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isolatedbubble · 3 years

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Romance in MXTX, Priest, and SHL

MXTX: Flower, Wine and Dreamworld

The romance in MXTX's works is like flower that grows in ice and snow; colorful, bright and hopelessly romantic, blossoms in misery and hardships.

It features a distinct "us against the world" mindset, depicting love as the only constant in the world. It's an eternal "dreamworld" detached from worldly matters, the perfect escapism as well as a source of strengths in the face of cruel reality.

Both MDZS and TGCF are a critique of mob mentality.

The contrast between CQL and MDZS is very interesting. While the former ends with LWJ taking charge, and therefore changing the world for the better, the novel ends with wangxian isolating themselves from grand politics and focusing more on helping individuals as recluse. It has an essentially pessimistic attitude towards the morality & intelligence of the collective.

TGCF takes a slightly more optimistic approach, featuring the crowd being courageous under the right circumstances. However, both works share a similar undertone: putting one’s absolute faith in the collective is dangerous, whereas unconditional trust and devotion can be only found in one-to-one connection

MXTX herself compares MDZS and TGCF to 花间一壶酒 (A cup of wine among flowers), MDZS being the wine and TGCF being flower. She also compares MDZS to 风雪夜归人, the person returning home from snow and wind, and TGCF to 红泥小火炉, a small red furnace.

Priest: Breezing Wind and Burning Iron

The romance in priest's works is more complicated. It's the most gentle in its normal state, when it is rational and collected, in which case it's like the breezing wind, soothing, sweet and light-hearted. It gives the individuals more incentive to achieve their individual and/or societal vision, as well as more reason to value their own lives & well-being.

In Faraway Wanderers, the most distinct feature of WenZhou relationship is how in naturally sync they are, and how comfortable & smooth their dynamic is. They both have past burden, but it doesn’t matter, because they bring simple joy, understanding and happiness in each other’s lives.

In Sha Po Lang and The Guardian, the ML’s lingering love for the MC motivates them to become better version of themselves, to care about others, and to form a holistic vision about bettering society.

In The Defective, Lin Jingheng(MC) explicitly said that Lu Bixing(ML) is the only meaning in his life. He had little incentive to care about his own life after his revenge plan fell apart. LBX helped him reconnect with his inner idealism, and gave him a reason value his life.

When the passion and fiery energy manifests itself, however, the romance is like burning iron, blood and fire. It isn’t actually toxic or unhealthy, but it's not pure and innocent either; in this case, it strives for something deeper and more intense, never content with the past or the present. The sheer intensity of relationship is like a double-edged sword, walking the fine line between unconditional devotion and dangerous obsession.

SHL: Spring Water and Healing Open Wounds

The romance in SHL is like "spring water"; it's warm, gentle, nurturing. It breaks through the boundary between individuals to bring the couple closer to each other, taking them back to a utopia of their childhood dream, away from social pressure and responsibility. The theme central to their relationship is “salvation”: how love is able to bring people back to integrity.

Both drama wkx and drama zzs have lots of regret about their past sins and wrongdoings. Four Seasons Manor is essentially a metaphor for purity, acceptance and the safety of childhood home. How to make drama wkx open up and accept this safe harbor as his home is one of the most significant plot-lines of the show.

SHL couple is way more emotionally vulnerable and expressive. A significant part of SHL arc is healing the wounds in an open and honest way. They cuddle and confide in each other way more often, talk about their shameful past and even cry about their regrets in front of one another, which is very rare among MXTX/Priest works.

The heat of the relationship sometimes gets too hot and even burns; in other words, there are constant miscommunications, conflicts and misunderstandings in the relationship. However, they can never let each other go, because it's the only source of warmth left for them in their hopeless lives filled with regrets and guilt.

Similarities and Differences

*Note that this is not a SHL/TYK comparison. TYK is kind of an “unorthodox” priest novel; you will know what I mean if you have read 3+ of her works.

Relationship Dynamic & Narrative:

In MXTX’s works, the concept of “romance” itself is divined; and the characters are illustration of the ideal of “undying love”. People are made for one another, to complete one another. Her works use colorful symbolism (silver butterflies, the emperor’s smile, the 3 thousand lanterns, etc.) to depict this romanticized ideal of love.

For MXTX, the romanticization of “destined love” is one of the most recurring themes of her novels. Therefore, the readers look at their relationship through rose-color glasses. Obsession is usually framed in a jolly & romantic light, and doesn’t feature much tension or stress, and has less negative or unhealthy undertone.

In most of priest’s works and SHL, soulmates are not born but made, so they have to figure out how their relationship works step by step. Therefore the narrative is less of a “rosy picture”.

Priest has a habit of using derogatory terms to describe relationships that are mostly healthy, but somewhat “bloody” and edgy, full of excessive passion and obsession. The most common phrase is “爱生忧怖”, a Buddhist term meaning “love results in worry and fear”.

SHL obviously has to be more subtle in expressing love. That said, drama WenZhou are way more emotionally vulnerable and expressive than their novel counterparts, as well as most Priest & MXTX characters. They have a dramatic falling out once in a while, even towards the end. They barely fit the Chinese definition of Zhiji (to know me/to understand one another), but are “lovers” who are buried deep in their passion instead.

Past, Future and Evolvement:

In SHL, characters are encouraged to treasure past impressions that are thrown in figurative “wrappings”, whose luster is derived from age-old experiences (Psychological Types, Carl Jung). In other words, they are encouraged to root their love in a shared past, a Utopia of innocence.

The contrast between The Defective and Word of Honor is very interesting to observe. Both involve long separation, and the suffering and personality changes hat comes from it. SHL narrative frames their innocent childhood as something to cling to and return to. Drama WKX is encouraged to accept his identity as Four Seasons Manor disciple because it was part of his childhood past. This is a significant part of drama WenZhou relationship.

In The Defective, the narrative doesn't encourage the couple to dwell on the past that much. On the contrary, the all-knowing AI explicitly discouraged the MC from “comparing past to present”. They are advised to accept changes, however painful it might be, and build a better, more equal dynamic out of it, evolving from one-sided pandering to fighting side-by-side.

In Priest’s novels, the characters rarely return to something in the past, but look into the future. Change is usually framed as inherently beneficial, albeit usually painful and rocky, the implication being that you need to constantly strive for something better.

Sha Po Lang is a good example of this, with Gu Yun’s changing attitude towards Chang Geng after he as he matures, gradually showing his intelligence in politics. CG starts referring to GY as Zixi instead of YiFu is also a sign of this change---to see him as equal rather than a parental figure & protector.

The Defective is even more obvious in this regard, with both parties uncomfortable with the change initially, but gradually adjusting to the changes during their 16-year separation. The ML also stops calling MC by his surname “Lin”, as a sign of viewing him as equal.

In MXTX’s works, change in personality or relationship dynamic is neither framed as painful or good. It just happens. It’s a natural flow that take place when it does. Their relationships are rarely challenged by change. They are objectively at a better place compared to their past, but it’s merely the result of a series of events rather than a deliberate choice or struggle.

WangXian’s relationship naturally changes over time after WWX’s rebirth, but neither of them really struggles with the change.

Xie Lian doesn’t even recognize Hua Cheng as the someone from his past, so they start out as friends getting to know each other.

Salvation and Changing one another:

Priest herself stated in an interview that she doesn’t believe in the concept of salvation, since people have the inner capacity to be their own savior. Therefore, priest characters usually don’t actively try to change their partner’s morals or personality. Some might be willingly influenced by their partner, but there’s rarely an element of moral condemnation. Even when there is a conflict between different values, the options are 1) to reconcile them by choosing the middle ground 2) to maintain their independence and tackle it with nuance 3) to break up.

On surface level, Mo Du/Silent Reading is about Luo Wenzhou being Fei Du’s salvation. However, as LWZ pointed out himself, Fei Du would’ve been a good person at heart with or without his influence.

In The Defective, when Lu Bixing mistakenly thought Lin Jingheng stayed in the Eighth Galaxy against his own wishes because of their relationship, and that their priorities are irreconcilable, he even thought about breaking up. Of course he was not serious about it, but this showcased that he would never try to change LJH’s convictions.

In SHL, however, the concept of salvation is central to the theme. Some find it strange that SHL make drama zzs the more “moral” one of the two, despite his action being more objectively questionable. In fact, the only reason he get framed as more “moral” is that he admitted his fault sooner, and therefore could guide drama wkx’s path back to salvation: to recognize the goodness in people, make peace with external world, to clear his name in Jianghu, and to follow due process with his revenge plan to avoid collateral damages.

“I tried to change you, but you end up changing me”, said drama ZZS. This relationship dynamic is never present in any of priest’s works I’ve read. Priest characters don’t *try* to change one another.

Does MXTX believe in salvation? Hard to tell. One could argue that Hua Cheng would have be way more amoral and even immoral if it hadn’t been for XL. This is complicated and is a topic for another time.

However, it is certain that MXTX MCs don’t condemn each other morally. “The orthodox one defending their unorthodox partner in front of the world” is a common wuxia trope, but the way MXTX novels approach it is very different from SHL.

HuaLian never had a serious falling out about being on different sides. Even when they disagree, they respect each other and love each other exactly the way they are. Hua Cheng didn’t approve of Xie Lian saving Mu Qing, but he didn’t interfere with Xie Lian’s decision. Xie Lian feels responsible for helping Shi Qingxuan in Blackwater arc, but he is perfectly fine with HC helping He Xuan keep secrets. In several cases where they have different values, they are able to make it work with ease.

LWJ never *morally* condemned WWX for his action, and never once objected to WWX practicing demonic cultivation after his rebirth. In fact, LWJ never objected to WWX’s morals; in their previous life he was worried about his safety, and struggled with what to do about certain situations due to his family background, but difference in morality is not an issue for them.

The “righteous” one does not feel the need to guide their unorthodox partner or to be their salvation with regards to integrity.

*The similarity & differences part is a bit messy and some points are not fleshed-out. Sorry about that.

**I don’t claim to have the right interpretation. The lens by which we see different styles of romance is ultimately subjective.

#mdzs #tgcf #mxtx #tian ya ke #mdzs meta #word of honor #shl #sha po lang #mo du #can ci pin

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alixofagnia · 4 years

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OpheThorn III: Back to Rambling

The Memory of Babel…Wow.

If nothing else, this book GOES. We’re dropped onto Babel just as lost, bewildered, and determined as Ophelia to get to the bottom of this ark. Boy, was it worth the wait! Babel is exquisitely written and, incredible as it sounds, even more treacherous than the Pole. The backbone Ophelia shows in this book is awesome! I love that she’s taken the measure of her worth—all the things she’s been through and survived in the previous novels—and come out resilient As Fuck. This book is definitely a penultimate novel. Dazzling as it is, much of it feels like groundwork being laid for the finale.

OpheThorn is less nuanced and ambiguous in Babel. While I feel there’s less to analyze, I do really love this pairing and I like writing about their dynamic. So, I’m just going to put my thoughts down and see what comes up!

[There will be spoilers]

[All fanart images credited to @patricialyfoung]

Intro

One of the things that drew me into The Mirror Visitor series is the relationship between Ophelia and Thorn. Theirs is not a traditional love story at all; in fact, it avoids clichés and instead plays about with two romantic tropes: enemies to lovers and marriage of convenience. The series spins these tropes anew by offering subtle signs of attraction (discussed here) and giving both characters antisocial tendencies, as well as—in Thorn’s case—possible ASD traits (discussed here).

When we left these two in Clairdelune, Thorn had just put his feelings on the table. Before she could give her response, however, they were separated under upsetting, even traumatic circumstances. Years later, we meet Ophelia again…

Ophelia

…and, oh dear, she is in a sorry state indeed. We find her disastrously operating a waffle stand during a kooky Animist festival for, of all things, clocks. Just what the girl pining for Thorn needs, right? All is not well with Ophelia. As Aunt Rosaline points out,

“No, you’re not fine. You don’t go out anymore, you eat any old thing, you sleep at any old time. You haven’t even been back to the museum.” [19]

Although her mother, sister, and to an extent Aunt Rosaline all believe Ophelia is wasting away, shutting herself in her room, she’s actually been quite busy. She’s been studying and developing working hypotheses about God and the Other: where they are, there she’ll find Thorn. She’s convinced of it. Working from obscure clues dropped in Clairdelune, Ophelia settles on Babel as the ark most likely to yield some answers, and when the chance to travel there appears, she wastes no time at all.

She. Is. Going.

Thorn

In Babel, Thorn has made a name for himself as Sir Henry, rising to become a Lord of LUX, the gatekeepers of Babel who serve a similar function to that of the Doyennes on Anima. He is commanding, magnetic, and aloof as ever. It is unsurprising to find that he has been playing close to the fire again. But the stress and tension of his investigative life on Babel is certainly heightened in a way that it wasn’t at the Pole.

We also learn that his nickname in Babel is the Automaton due to his unceasing energy. Thorn, thus, has dealt with the separation by predictably burying himself in work.

The Reunion

To Ophelia’s disappointment, the reunion with Thorn does not go quite as she had envisioned, and that’s because she hadn’t really envisioned past the goal of finding him [203]. Ophelia is very much a character who takes things one at a time as she’s confronted by them. When Thorn seems less than pleased to see her, she must consider all these Troublesome Feelings and why his underwhelming reaction upsets her.

The thing is Ophelia is waiting for Thorn to take the lead. But he already did, and she didn’t follow—at least, not in a way that he could understand. As previously discussed, Thorn does not function well with non-verbal cues. He needs to be explicitly told how someone else feels, or how he is making someone else feel, in order to know when to adjust his behavior. That can be quite flustering, especially for someone like Ophelia who struggles to vocalize her feelings exactly as they are.

“Is that it?” Ophelia murmured. “You have nothing more to say to me?”

“I have, actually,” Thorn muttered, not stopping all his connecting. […] “And you?” he finally asked, in turn. “You have nothing more to say to me?” [263]

She doesn’t. Thorn coldly dismisses her and continues to keep her at arm’s length, especially when he gives her a second chance to confess her feelings and she still refuses to take it.

Ophelia has social anxiety. She’s not exactly shy, she just gets tongue-tied and befuddled sometimes. It’s part of her make-up, but it doesn’t just happen around Thorn—there are plenty of instances where she has trouble expressing herself to those she cares about, such as Ambrose and Blaise in this novel, or Fox in Clairdelune. She even struggles to express basic gratitude toward Aunt Rosaline in Promise. Unlike them, Thorn challenges her to uncomfortable levels. Her feelings for him are complex and utterly foreign; she has no idea what to do about them.

Unfortunately, Thorn is fresh out of fucks to give over her see-saw act. He’s well-past this stage of confusion and cowardice she’s experiencing because he’s been in love with Ophelia since Promise (“I’m starting to get used to you”) and dealt with the ramifications of that in Clairdelune (“I don’t give a damn whether people find me suspect, as long as I am not so in your eyes.”).

Thorn does nothing half-heartedly. In no uncertain terms, he left her with the bluntest of blunt confessions (“By the way, I love you.”), which was a milestone in his emotional growth. It is clear that he does not love frivolously or casually in the way of his foil, Archibald, so for him, nothing has changed in three years. Likely, he thinks this should be obvious to Ophelia, and it probably should be at this point. He’s done all he can, after all, what more can she want? From his perspective, it’s Ophelia’s turn to make a move, not his.

Ophelia, though, functions differently. She has always needed verbal reinforcement and reassurance. That need has been heightened by their long separation. Essentially, they’re out of touch with one another and, in Ophelia’s case, she’s completely out of touch with herself, which is why when prompted by Thorn she doesn’t provide an answer, even though there could be only one reason for her going to Babel. Things finally come to a head when Thorn loses all patience and replaces her as his assistant. Ophelia is pissed.

“You weren’t available. Waiting for you would have slowed me down in my research.”

“Slowed you down? For your information, I was also doing research of my own. It might interest you to learn…”

“Of your own, that’s precisely the problem,” he interrupted her. “I advised you never to leave your division, and you were supposed to warn me if you discovered anything new. Nothing has changed, you still always make your decisions alone.”

“I wanted to help you,” Ophelia hissed, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want any of your finer feelings. I need efficiency. If you don’t mind, I now have a flight to take.”

Ophelia’s blood ignited in her every vein. “You’re an egoist.” She had wanted to anger Thorn, and she knew, by the way he had frozen on the spot, that she had succeeded. All the shadows of the night suddenly seemed to have been drawn to the center of his face. He threw Ophelia a look so hard, she reeled from its impact.

“I am demanding, a killjoy, obsessive, antisocial, and crippled,” he intoned, in a forbidding voice. “You can put all the defects in the world on me, but I will not permit you to call me an egoist. If you prefer to do things your way, go ahead, but don’t waste my time anymore. Our collaboration is over.” [305]

OMG, this is harsh. But it’s the kick in the ass Ophelia needs. Since taking up a secret identity as Eulalia and aspiring to become a Forerunner (essentially a scholar and a scribe), she’s already been confronted by the fact that she’s not as good a researcher as she’s prided herself on. Now, she’s being confronted by the suggestion that she’s not a very good partner, either. It leaves her feeling “drier than dust.” [321]

I think it’s interesting how Thorn’s dialogue here has a double meaning. He’s talking about their partnership as an investigative team, of course. But it just as easily applies to their personal relationship. He can’t keep waiting around for Ophelia to make up her mind. He’s got a God to hunt down, an Other to face. Having to wonder about where he stands with Ophelia is getting to be too much. By once again haranguing off on her own, Ophelia has made it plain to him that she prefers to do things without him. In his eyes, she’s pushing him away.

Eventually, she is able to see this perspective and she is ashamed to realize how badly she’s held Thorn to a double standard. He gave of himself through words and gestures as far as he was able, while she gave him nothing in return. Finally, FINALLY, Ophelia fully expresses her love for Thorn and, as he once did, asks him to forgive her shortcomings. It’s a very sweet scene, I must say.

Now, to go back for a moment, what’s really gutting about Ophelia calling Thorn an egoist is this:

“God said he would keep his eyes on you,” he muttered, in a choked voice. “Right in front of me. I make a lamentable husband, but I permit no one, particularly him, to persecute my wife. It’s impossible for me to tear you away from God, but I can tear him away from you. If a book exists that contains God’s secret, and allows his invulnerability to be punctured, I will find it.” [392]

For context, Ophelia had admonished Thorn for his dogged pursuit of this quest, expressing outrage that he should be doing this for a world that’s done nothing for him. At one time, yes, Thorn may have been acting in the interest of the world. Then, he met Ophelia (who is too curious for her own good) and he met God. God threatened her, and Thorn is not a man who could allow such a thing to go unpunished, no matter the consequence. Ever since they met—through every consideration, every move in this impossible investigation and despite each rejection from her—he’s been acting out of love for Ophelia.

As Thorn said, he is not an egoist.

The Blind Spot

After their “egoist” argument, Ophelia feels instant regret and tries to stop Thorn from walking away. She doesn’t succeed, however, because she is struck by his claws. At first, she believes he may have done this on purpose, the thought of which really scares her because it indicates that Thorn is absolutely done with her.

Later, after she finally makes her confession, we all learn that, in fact, Thorn has lost a bit of control over his family power. He has no idea that he used his claws on Ophelia. I’m a little bit unsure what caused this vulnerability—I don’t really follow the given reason, so I’m wondering if Thorn doesn’t quite know himself why this has come to be.

My theory is more euphemistic. Ophelia had reached out to touch his turned back and the gesture badly startled him. He overreacts then overcorrects, and they both take a memorable tumble. Thorn explains:

“Never again accost me from behind my back or from any of my blind spots. Don’t do any movement that I can’t see coming in advance, or then warn me out loud.” [389]

He further explains that he can retain control as long as his claws don’t perceive her as a threat and asks her not to be absent-minded with him. I think it’s entirely plausible that his control over his Dragon power has weakened due to his deep emotion regarding Ophelia. I also feel that this speaks closely to their recent conflict as well as Thorn’s coding as autistic. It’s like Thorn is saying, “No more hide and seek. No more games. Tell me straight, or not at all.”

Ophelia knows how deep his passions run. She once held his dice and thought she might die under the weight and intensity of his emotions. Perhaps it is her Animism that has wrought this change in him. Perhaps it is simply her existence. Either way, she can no longer afford to be careless when it comes to Thorn’s feelings. In the final chapter, Ophelia and Thorn have a true heart to heart, reaffirming their partnership. But Thorn has something to add.

“No half-measures,” he interrupted her. “I’m not and do not wish to be your friend.” [445]

What he leaves unspoken is that he wants to be her husband, in every version of the role: Partner. Protector. Lover. Now that Ophelia has given him an answer, Thorn is comfortable leading them forward and it is the role of lover that he specifically has in mind. Considering this is probably the first time he’s ever propositioned a woman for sex, he is understandably quite awkward. Ophelia quickly realizes that she’s added to his inner turmoil by repressing her own sexuality around him and inadvertently making him feel less than attractive. She also understands that she, too, wants to be his wife in every version of that role: Partner. Protector. Lover. What follows is a really beautiful expression of honest acceptance and true value.

Desire

My dudes, our girl is constantly at risk of exploding (or maybe imploding?) with desire in this book. It’s consuming her, emptying her, and driving every atom of her being. Look at this!

Ophelia had received no news from Thorn after his escape. Not a single telegram, not a single letter. She could keep telling herself that he couldn’t run the risk of making contact, that he was a man wanted by the law, perhaps by God himself, but it was eating her up inside. [22]

Whenever she crossed a man who was a bit taller than average, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back as she passed, with a frantic pounding in her chest. [83]

Ophelia would have recognized his voice out of a thousand. The resonance of a double bass, solemn and sullen, that echoed through her inner emptiness, shook her to the core, welled up to her throat, choked her. [240]

She waited until her heartbeat, taxed by the run, had returned to normal. But it didn’t happen. Her entire flesh seemed to be pulsating to a single chaotic rhythm. This evening, she would see Thorn again. [249]

She wanted to be with Thorn right there, right now. She’d wanted that every second of every minute of every hour, for almost three years. [249]

Although she knew the temperature of this place was strictly maintained at minus eight degrees, Ophelia felt as if it were fifteen degrees warmer. Never in her life had she cared about appearances, and yet she ran a nervous hand through her hair to tidy it up. [253]

She suddenly realized that there wasn’t much she would have refused him, had he but asked. [278]

Instead, he disinfected his hands for a second time, as if they really were repulsive. They weren’t in Ophelia’s eyes. From a distance, she took in the network of veins under the skin, the long, curved fingers, the bone that rose up on each wrist, and suddenly, she felt something like pain in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t the slightest idea what was happening to her, but looking at those hands made her want to scream. [283]

She felt it again, even more violently, this urgent call from deep inside her. [446]

Ophelia is so horny and I’m so here for it!

Closing Thoughts

Do I think Ophelia’s internal conflict over Thorn is drawn out? Yes.

Do I think it’s contrived? No.

I think it falls in line with Ophelia’s characterization and I think Thorn’s frosty reaction to her presence in Babel falls in line with his characterization. These characters aren’t perfect: Ophelia is quirky and endearing, but that doesn’t make her immune to cowardice; Thorn is highly skilled and competent but is deficient socially and sometimes emotionally. I can’t emphasize enough how well Christelle Dabos knows her characters and allows them to be who they are rather than force them to make weird changes to fill plot holes.

We can’t forget, either, the fact that they have been completely cut off from one another for years. Yes, we might think in that time Ophelia could have done more to sort out her feelings. But as we’ve seen, she just doesn’t focus on more than what she can handle at a time. She always thinks in terms of breaking a problem down into steps. The first step was following up on those clues from Claridelune. The second step was finding Thorn. The last step was dealing with herself.

Their relationship here, which has progressed in a way that felt natural and believable, is the most straightforward it has ever been. That made writing about them this time around kind of hard, actually, because it’s all plainly there in the text. For me, I think the notable takeaway is being able to mark just how far these two characters have come in their individual and mutual journeys. Now and together, they can tackle the gargantuan, perilous task ahead. It might all end on a bittersweet note. But for this couple…that seems about right, and I can’t wait to read the conclusion.

Thank you so much for reading these long posts and leaving such kind feedback! I’m glad that you, too, enjoy Ophelia, Thorn, and this magical series.

#ophethorn #the mirror visitor #La Passe-Miroir #the memory of babel #la memoire de babel #christelle dabos #long book report #slow burn romance

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writersplight · 3 years

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A COMPARISON

AN: I feel I should include a content warning of some kind. There's nothing explicitly done wrong or said, but there is this hint at past bad sex experiences, and well as vague sex talk. ——— When Erwin talks, even if it’s directed at her, his words are chosen precisely. He could be talking to anyone really, and his words float through her like she’s air. It was never full conversations, just words floating from his mouth to her ears, with flat responses. There are hidden messages behind his words, and it takes learning how to decipher him to figure it out. Yet, they are forced and hollow. When Onyankopon talks, it's engaging. He’s fully listening to whatever she has to say, even if it’s nonsense, with questions and the perfect amount of eye contact. In return, she listens to all his facts about airplanes and zeppelins he has to offer. How can she not? His smile is so warm and inviting, she can’t help but sit down with a kettle of tea and hear him explain the mechanics of it all.

When Erwin would touch her, it would be quick, with specific purpose, and fleeting. Even when there were no meetings, no eyes on them except for the moon—completely devoid of life and love. It had to be initiated by him, whenever it was convenient for him. She’d be putty in his hands, though, soaking up every second. It was rare he had any semblance of “vulnerability” with her. Every touch was over way too soon, leaving her with an emptiness to deal with. She always pushed it down, making excuse after excuse for him. With Onyankopon, he listens. His touches are experimental, and he never does anything without asking. The first time they slept together, he reassured her that she wasn’t there for a quick, meaningless fuck. He just thought they should share a bed—he made some comment about how Ena mentioned cuddling earlier in the evening, but she refuses to acknowledge that as her full offer. That isn’t to mention the first time they had sex. She didn’t know the bedroom could be so. . . Satisfying. She was brought up on the idea that her life should be dedicated to pleasing a man in one way or another. The idea of actually living outside of that is a concept she only dreamt of when she ran away from home at the naive age of seventeen. Now, at almost thirty-nine years old, she’s faced with what she wants. And Ena’s never been so confused. At this point, her life is so much different than it was when she joined the Survey Corps at twenty-one. She had options beyond “kill the enemy and live another day”. Beyond “constantly prove how worthy you are”. Everything she wanted, and yet everything was so confusing. She kept expecting Onyankopon to snap and become impatient with her, or to up and leave altogether. But he didn’t. And he hasn’t. There’s no ultimatum with him. It’s always a fair and just compromise. At this point, laying awake at night, listening to him breathing, she realized how unfair it was to compare Erwin to Onyankopon. No one could compare to the openness he willingly shares with Ena. He’ll talk with her for hours about feelings and coping mechanisms, and if he does manage to step over a boundary, he sets time aside to fully hear her side, and to apologize. Rolling onto her side, Ena remembers the first time she initiated that she wanted to have sex with Onyankopon. She was really nervous “taking the lead”, but he was into it. He’s a hell of a listener, that’s for sure. It was a new territory for her, and he was always asking questions and for consent. There was a moment when she became hyper-aware of her surroundings, causing her to become still. That familiar stillness, the lifeless corpse of herself that was waiting for life to be pumped into it. She hated it. Suddenly, the pleasure was stimulating in all the wrong ways, and there was too much air in her lungs and not enough. “Is this—” “God, please stop!” His movements stopped immediately, concerned. She’s never shouted like that. She was never shaking like that. Or still. He pulls out, and gives her space. When Ena sits up, the room seems to turn with her in the middle. She didn’t know when Onyankopon left, or how the water got in her hands, or why she was crying so hard. She didn’t do anything wrong, but she held the guilt of every quiet woman in her bloodline. Onyankopon didn’t do anything wrong, but he did feel bad for not noticing sooner. Like most things in her life, her symptoms were quiet. They crept up on her, and she didn’t blame him. He put an arm under her, with permission, to help her sit up. He put a blanket around her. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she whispers, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief that was handed to her. “Did I hurt you in any way?” “What? Of course not! You’re so good to me, and you know what you're doing, I just—” Ena pauses, and her eyes drop to her hands because telling Onyankopon about her previous relationship was always so hard. She always felt bad for wanting better, due to the circumstances she was faced with before on the island. She made sure to clarify Erwin never

intentionally hurt her, and meant his best. Even still, he would focus on his own pleasure, and believe that if he was feeling good, so was Ena. Not true, but she restated that he didn't know, and she couldn't help because she didn't know how to please herself. Onyankopon nodded along, sipping his own glass of water. He didn't villainize her past "boyfriend"—in quotes because they were together, but they weren't able to slap an official label on it. Even still, he had to wonder why she put up with him for so long. “I don’t know why,” she admits quietly, and he realized he asked that out loud. He began to apologize, but she assured him there was no need. After all, she was beginning to wonder about herself. “I used to say ‘because I love him’, right? But now that I have freedom right now. . . I’m sure it was a form of love, but it’s nothing like what we have. I just feel bad for constantly bringing him up, Onyankopon. He’s just the only frame of reference I have.” “And maybe an unintentional source of trauma?” he wondered, and Ena shrugged. She knew that was right, but it was a lot to admit. She didn’t want to admit that about her dead boyfriend. “It seems to me that he’s the reason you’re hesitant all the time. I don’t mind it, you're open to talking through your problems, but I’m concerned as to why he’s still got a death grip on your decisions. . . No pun intended, I promise!” He sees how her face twists up with this visible guilt. He puts a hand on her thigh. “I could be in the wrong, it’s okay to tell me that—” “I know, but I don’t think you’re wrong. But I don’t want to complain about the life I had in Paradis. It feels. . . Wrong,” she finally looks back at him. Even in a moment like this, he was so goddamn pretty. “You can still love someone even though they’ve traumatized you. It’s nuanced, Ena. For a situation as complicated as yours, there will always be nuance.” He explains. “Yeah?” she turns to face her lover with a nervous smile. “So you’re not upset with me that I yelled at you to stop?” “Of course not! I could never be mad at that. I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.” She didn’t hold him in contempt, and told him that. She was just overstimulated in all the wrong ways. It happens sometimes. When he suggested relaxing for the rest of the night, she agreed. It started with a shower, where Onyankopon cleaned her hair so nicely. She used her lavender soap that he buys for her to wash his body, loving the idea that he’ll smell like her when he’s out and about in the morning getting groceries. Then he brewed some fancy tea blend bought from Levi’s shop, and they read some book Armin Arlert published, with in depth illustrations and diagrams by Jean Kirschtein. They go on explorations of other countries, studying various plant life and bugs. Weird, considering the ocean is bigger and far more interesting, but it was a good read nonetheless. And Ena totally didn’t slip and nearly cracked her head open when she stepped out of the shower. Nope. Onyankopon catching her and holding her close was merely him showing affection, and not caused by her slipping. It totally was, she’s just embarrassed. Months later, now, she rolls over to face him. He’s so sweet and patient with her. Not to say she isn’t patient with him, it’s just the first time that it isn’t stressful. Ena almost feels like she doesn’t deserve him. He understands her in a way that she’s never known—not to mention he can cook, clean, and understands that sometimes people just want alone time. Oh, and he loves taste-testing her experimental meals. As well as taking her flying on whatever complicatedly named airship he loves. And the way they pick each other’s brains. . . It’s sort of unfair to compare Erwin Smith to her current boyfriend. She can’t help it, she was raised in a society where comparing one another was supposed to be inspiration. Ena never felt inspired by having her hair, her eyes, her nose, her body, or her strength compared to someone else. It felt like an insult above all else. She knew, however, that Erwin liked

that challenge of trying to “best” someone, and that probably hasn’t changed since he died. Ena was okay with that.

#fanfic writeblr #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #enawin #erwin smith #onyankopon #oc: p. ena bristol #enakopon #writeblr #my works.mp3

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vegetacide · 4 years

Photo

Veggie art’ing Part II complete… This is a continuation of THIS

Also for something a bit new as I had several notes asking what was going on with the previous pic I wrote a little something to accompany this. It took a rather unexpected direction on me as I had ordinally intended for this to be a reconciliation picture.. Just were my mind veered for some reason.. I blame these two idiots…

I have spent far too long plunking away at this so bare with me if its absolutely crap.

Anyway.. if you wish to read it.. look check out below

Working title: …haven’t come up with one yet.. meh. Sue me

Blanket warning: Hints to adult subject matter that some might find offensive or triggery..mentions of past trama…. etc etc

Rating: Teen.. I guess

Word count: 2726 words

Characters: Virgil/Kayo

Fandom: TaG’verse A/U

Location: My made up beach house located somewhere on Tracy Island..

Veggie notes: Any errors are completely my own and I am sure I will catch them at some point on one of my obsessive read throughs of self doubt. :D

Enjoy…

o0o

Damn, how in the world had it come to this?

Virgil watched as she padded on quiet, bare feet across the beach house deck. Retreating again and effectively shutting him out. Her slender shoulders so small under the too big flannel of his shirt, were hunched as she protectively wrapped her arms around herself. Closing off like she always did when things got too close and too real for her to deal with.

His chest hurt, a dull ache behind his breast bone and he rubbed at it subconsciously. Like his heart was too big and in its floundering it was trying to break through the meager sack of flesh that housed it.

Cursing, he rubbed at it again and resisted the urge to drive his fist in the plastered wall of the beach house. The effort wouldn’t serve any meaningful purpose anyways other than splitting his knuckles. There was no detracting from his present circumstances and potential broken bones wouldn’t change that.

He should have taken more care with his words instead of letting his thoughts run free as he did and he kicked himself for his short sightedness, not that it fixed anything. He’d been too caught up in his own little world, completely forgetting the reality they were living and now here they were.

On opposing ends of a vast chasm. Him holding on with all his might to keep his family whole while Kayo fought against it. The horrible twisted image of family that a mad man had imprinted on her at too young an age warping her view on things to the detriment of them both. An idea she had been fighting her whole life to make different and one she couldn’t escape, it seemed no matter how hard they tried to.

The old doubts and worries were always just beneath the surface just waiting to spring forth to bugger things up. The present being a prime example.

The morning had started out completely different and felt almost like a dream to where they were now. Warm and lazy with a vague like quality one found just upon waking.

Kayo had been snuggled in his arms. Her legs tangled with his among the rumpled sheets. A sweet ocean breeze blowing through the gossamer curtains and dancing pleasantly over their satiated bodies. Wicking the dew of sweat from their skin as their pulses slowed and their minds drifted back from the bliss of carnal sensation.

His fingers had been lazily tracing up and down her back, over the sinewy grace of her shoulders and down the curve of her spine. Paying homage and mapping every glorious inch to his artist brain.

He’d been lost in a day dream of what could be. The gentle rise of her hip, the varied valleys of her ribs directing the course of his thoughts. A picture was forming of a future, one that stretched out before them like a blank canvas, waiting for them to take up the brush and fill it with colour and life.

A story in images had started to sketch itself in his mind’s eye. The two of them, together. Healing, growing and evolving with a world of opportunity before them and nothing to hold them back.

Not being able to contain himself as he lazed with her, Virgil had voiced his thoughts. Letting loose all that he’d hoped for. A tumble of words spewing forth that had Kayo suddenly growing still and stiff to his touch.

“Virgil, stop…” Had been all she’d uttered before she’d turned from his embrace and slipped from the soft comfort of their bed. Her hair a tumble of love tousled ebony, hiding her face.

“It would be a nice picture to paint.” He’d replied, mind still on other things and not on the present. “Go anywhere, wherever we want. Take in the sights for a change instead of just jetting by them. Go to that little cabin by that lake I told you about… it would be a perfect spot to..”

“Enough! …” The abruptness of her raised voice had him snapping his jaw shut.

With jerking motions, she’d grabbed up his shirt. The match to his favourite pair of lounge pants. The one she loved to cozy into and entice him with. A glimpse of flesh here as it rode up her thighs, a flash there as supple mounds peaked out between the row of loosed buttons. Now though it covered her in a different manner entirely. Like a shield, she clasped it tightly

He’d pushed up to his elbows, brows dropped low with concern as he’d finally taken note that something wasn’t quite right.. “Kay?"

She’d cast her gaze back at him then. The briefest of looks had been enough for him to catch the shadow of disquiet in them. Their usual vibrancy muddied by brewing clouds of anger that had him sliding from the sheets and reaching for her.

“Don’t.” Was all she said, shaking her head as he’d risen and moved towards her. Her hands held aloft to hold him back as she’d strode from the room.

“What… Tin, what’s going on?”

Grabbing up his pants Virgil had stumbled after her, hopping as he yanked them on amid a litany of colourful words.

“Shit… Wait..”

Steps later he was confronted by a fury he hadn’t expected considering where and what they had been doing mere moments before.

She had been pacing like a caged animal, across the expanse of the living room and back again. Rage flowing from her with each hurried step.

“What…?” Was all he managed to say before she turned on him. Fire in her gaze, colour high on her cheeks.

“You know what?” She seethed, poking a finger in his direction as she did another circuit of the room.

He’s own anger bubbled to the surface, “Actually, I don’t. So would you enlighten me to whatever erroneous infraction it is that you think that I’ve done?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know exactly what the problem is.”

Virgil’s brows shot up as her words had struck a chord in his grey matter. “Problem? You really think…”

“What in the hell were we thinking?!” She growled out, shoving a chair out to the way and knocking it over with a crash. “Selfish..Stupid.”

“With the lives we lead….You can’t ask this of me!”

Her words had been like a physical blow and Virgil had taken an involuntary step back. She’d wanted her words to hurt and she’d succeeded. She never did pull her punches and her aim was as impeccable as ever.

He’d seen the realization of what she’d said flicker through her gaze but she’d quickly buried it. Instead of saying more, she shook her head, turned her back on him once more and walked out the open sliding doors putting more than just distance between them.

And he’d let her go, his shoulders slumping at the writing between the lines of what had been said. In his mind there was only one option open to them but maybe for her that wasn’t the case. The implications of those options was something he couldn’t dare to fathom…but it was a road he wouldn’t let her travel down alone.

He had a responsibility to uphold, as her husband and as the man he prided himself on being. A rescuer in dark times, when there was no one else capable of the job and sometimes those that needed rescuing were closer to home.

Squaring his shoulders he went after her. She was begging for a fight. An obvious distraction from the core reasoning behind her lashing out at him but he wouldn’t take her up on the invitation. He wouldn’t let her push him away to deal with whatever this was on her own.

Passing through the doors, his eyes scanned over the deck and his breath had caught.

She looked so small, fragile and it had brought him up short. Slumping, he braced himself between a support post and the beach house wall. An uncanny exhaustion suffusing him as he saw the uphill battle of the task ahead. A task he was determined to see through to the end, no matter the outcome.

He hated seeing her like this and despite her best efforts to push him away, Virgil knew her too well. Had spent most of his life knowing her. He could read her nuances, gestures and mood even when she tried to close off from him like she was trying to do now under a mask of anger.

“Tin,” He said carefully, dropping his hand and pushing away from the post. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders. Approaching her with all guns blazing would only crank her defenses up higher and wouldn’t get them anywhere.

He watched her stance with a practiced eye as he stepped closer. She was like an abused animal. Even with all of her training, when she was emotionally compromised as she was right now the scared little girl she had been came to the fore. The one they met when she’d first came to live with them, hiding behind her father’s leg.

He hadn’t known her history then, the actions of her uncle and the effect that it would have on the rest of her life. How it would shape her into the strong, determined woman she was today. Never letting anyone get close enough to see the frightened child she closeted away inside. Virgil though had managed to find his way inside, found the cracks in her apparent impenetrable armour and had broken through to the core of the woman inside. The one she tried desperately to hide from the world in a shell of fierce resolve and purpose.

Under it all was a woman, who had seen too much. Abused, battered, basically orphaned by her absentee father and desperately afraid. To top it all off, she hated the weakness and fought tooth and nail to hide it from everyone. With the exception of him, she didn’t have a choice there. He’d wormed his way in and he wouldn’t stand by and let her retreat from herself or from him.

Gently he placed his hands on her tight shoulders, cupping their slender, wavering strength and he whispered her name again. “Tanusha…”

Her head bowed further, a meager attempt to hide in the fall of her hair but he could feel the quiver in her body now, hear the soft stuttered intake of her breath. She was crying and trying oh so hard not to be.

Pain and love swelled through his chest, and an undeniable protectiveness.

Virgil pulled her back into his embrace, encircling his arms around her waist and with little resistance she melted.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered over the curve of her ear, brushing his lips across the elven-like arch of it. “I’m so sorry.”

He put all his love he could into the words, hoping that by apologizing for something he wasn’t wholly the cause of would help alleviate her suffering in some way.

“I wasn’t thinking and it was insensitive of me.” He tightened his hold on her, reassurance imbued into the gesture and slowly began to rock giving her the time to pull herself back together again.

The slight tremor slowly dissipated, her breathing settling into a somewhat normal rhythm and he knew that she was ready to hear. More so when she dragged in a ragged breath and exhaled a long drawn out sigh. He could almost hear her counting to ten in her head. A method she used to reign back in some of her control and a calm he knew well creeped back in. One that camouflaged a great deal of hurt.

He did the same, his warm breath stirring her hair and ghosting across the smooth column of her neck which peeked out from the drooping collar of his shirt.

“You know we’ve got this, right?” He questioned though he wasn’t expecting an answer. “Yes, he’s out…” She stilled once more in his hold but Virgil couldn’t stop now, Kayo needed to hear this even if it was just a band-aid to the problem. He couldn’t sit by and let her lose herself in fear so he pushed on. There was too much at stake.

“Yes, he’s upped his game in a big way. Dad knew he was capable, your Dad knew….” A flinch at the mention of the absentee man but again he pressed on. There was no backing down now. What he had to say, needed to be said.

“We were unprepared but we know better now and I promise you, Tanusha Kyrano Tracy; just like I did on the day you said ‘Yes’.. That I will never, ever let that man hurt you again.”

He slipped a hand down, between the soft folds of flannel, across her silky, soft skin that concealed honed muscle and deadly skills. Brushed the edge of fine lace and stilled, cupped and shielded that which was only known to the two of them.

With strength of purpose his chest swelled, a determination unlike any he had ever known bulked up the threat behind his next words. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect both of you, I swear it or the Hood will regret the day he heard the name Tracy.”

She turned, taking his hand in her own and lightly brushing her lips across his knuckles. “You’re too good for me Virgil Grissom Tracy and I don’t deserve you.”

The brief storm of anger has fled from her eyes, leaving behind only doubt and fear. “But I don’t think it’s as easy as that. You’re too good a man to stoop to such levels and I don’t think I could live with myself if you made that sort of sacrifice on my behalf.

Besides, what sort of life could we offer with him out there. He’s already been the cause of so much pain. You and your brother’s have suffered for years because of it..I don’t think I would have the strength if he was to get you or….”

Virgil’s frowned. “Tin, I married you. All of you and everything you brought with you. I knew full well what I was marrying into but that man, that bastard… he can’t come between us and what we want unless you let him.”

Her gaze dropped and with gentle fingers he lifted her chin and waited for her to meet his pleading eyes. “Don’t let him win… not in this. Please God, not in this.”

“We may not have a choice…” Came the whisper of her response, her forehead resting against his own as a lingering tear slipped from her lashes.

“Tin, please….”

“Virgil, I love you. God, how I love you but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. Not right now. If the Hood found out….

Just then the island klaxon blared and Virgil’s comms started to ping with urgency.

Kayo took a step back from him and he stared after her. Brain going a mile a minute with words he wanted to say, emotions he wanted to express.

“Go…” She said with resignation, her arms once more crossing over her frame. “You’re needed..”

“I’m needed more here.”

His comms buzzed again followed by the voice of his star loving sibling. “Virgil, you’re needed in Ops. A.S.A.P. Please confirm.””

Conflicted, Virgil stood unmoving, his fist clenched at his side. Trapped between the woman he loved and the life they’d chosen.

“Go, I’ll be here when you get back..”

His brother’s voice sounded again from his comms, pulling him in two directions at once. The hint of stress he picks up in it though had him unfreezing and heading for the underground access to the hanger.

Passing through the automated door and hitting his comms to reply to John, he looked back at Kayo. His heart sinking and doubt filling him as he watched her turn away from him.

Uncertainty prickling across his skin as he questioned the validity of her words but there was nothing he could do right now. Lives were at stack…more so than just those that needed rescuing and his hands were tied…

“FAB John, on my way…”

FIN….????

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eolewyn1010 · 3 years

Text

3 seasons of Charité - upsides and downsides

Includes spoilers for all three seasons!

What I like about Charité, season 1:

- Ida is a relatable and stubborn woman, and while I think the protagonists of the newer two seasons are written better and more interestingly, she makes for a good central character

- Behring is great to watch, complex, enthusiastic, arrogant, passionate, desperately forlorn, sweetly encouraging, irascible, honest, and I’m always torn between loving and hating him with all my heart

- he also stands in for how badly society was suited to handle people with psychological issues back in the day

- actually, none of the characters are simple or one-sided; expectations are often subverted – Behring is not heartless, but he can’t just be “saved” either, neither Koch nor Virchow are as benign as they seem at first, Tischendorf is not the sweet young Prince Charming who’ll give Ida the dream life she deserves, Hedwig is not a brainless little floozie with no deeper thoughts or feelings, neither Therese nor Martha are all the strict boss ladies they want to be, Edith is not just a snotty bitch etc.

- medical history of that time, a blunt look on methods and circumstances

- the rivalry between the doctors; it’s fun to watch them passive-aggressively piss on each other

- the staging of the Tuberculin scandal was really effective, with all the hyping, the downfall and the consequences

- we get sweethearts! Stine is a sweetheart, Else is a sweetheart, Therese is a sweetheart, Dr. Kitasato is a sweetheart, and most of all Dr. Ehrlich. I like kind people, ok? Especially in a setting where so many people are asses

- the music is atmospheric and quite nice

- despite two options of marriage, the female protagonist remains single and gets to focus on her career, even in a time and setting that’s not supportive

- I’m having a blast with Minckwitz – he’s such a bitch, I love it

What I hate:

- the lesbian dies for no good reason

- did our main character really have to be a tragic, left-all-alone orphan in debts? Would you like some cheese with that whine?

- the big, hammy speeches get on my nerves after a while

- my sweet lesbian Therese dies, awfully, of frickin’ tuberculosis

- say what you will, Ida and Behring could have made it work; I think they would have been good for each other. Kinda disappointed

- Else Spinola deserved better

- poor Therese dies, thinking that God punishes her for being in love with Ida

- those weird slo-mo shots between scenes don’t serve any purpose

- what’s with the random fortuneteller scene? What was that good for?

- THERESE DIES! We go with f***king Bury Your Gays??? F*** YOU!

_________________________________

What I like about Charité, season 2:

- Anni and Dr. Sauerbruch – different than with Ida, we get two focal characters who aren’t presented as doubtlessly morally good. On the contrary, Anni starts out as quite the happy-go-lucky little Nazi follower – and then we get all the character development; hell yeah!

- Anni chooses to keep and raise her disabled baby herself, come hell or high water; damn, she fights for that kid. And Martin is positive disabled representation, too – thanks for giving me a handicapped veteran who’s not a bitter, drunk wreck just whining about what a cripple he is! He’s got a grip on his life, and the leg only ever comes up on three occasions; it doesn’t define him

- Otto, Martin, Doc Jung, Margot, Maria Fritsch and Kolbe are more clearly positive characters, but they aren’t one-sided, either – like, Otto plays that bright sunshine, but there’s so much seething in him. My sweet baby boy

- same for the negative characters, because they aren’t flat either; Artur, de Crinis and Christel are super interesting, all different levels between quiet, only semi-aware compliance and full-on, not-so-blind fanaticism. Gawd, those shitheads, but they’re fascinating to watch

- all them relationships – Margot-Ferdinand, Otto-Martin, Otto-Anni, Artur-Anni, Margot-Doc Jung, Ferdinand-Doc Jung, Anni-de Crinis, Bessau-Artur, Martin-Christel, Otto-Christel, Anni-Martin… there are so many interplays, so many dynamics that influence each other! SO many layers!

- the acting is better, I think; the characters altogether feel less wooden, much more human than the first time around – perhaps because it’s not 19th century manners anymore now, I dunno; I’m getting really emotional over shit, and I love it

- incorporation of the political and social situation into the hospital setting – much more than in the first season, the state ideology influences the way the doctors can do their work, and many of them do their best to still hold onto their duty when everything around them falls apart, which is beautiful

- power struggles between the characters in charge and ideological / political nuances are more subtle; nothing is black and white

- but there’s nothing subtle about the presentation of Nazi crimes and how many people actually just went along willingly – that cold bluntness is just what that subject needs

- interactions with patients are better this time; they’re more now than passive, pitiable creatures who quietly die their way, they’re characters with their own minds and drives (Lohmann, Magda Goebbels, Hans von Dohnanyi, even Emil)

- the music is even better than the first time around, I love it – so gentle most of the time, but it can also really help to build the tension

- we get a very sweet, functioning queer romance between characters who consist of more than “well, they’re gay and it troubles them”, and they both live – THANK YOU for learning your lesson; there was no good reason to have the gay character die, so Otto and Martin get a happy end. Was that so difficult?

What I hate:

- Yrsa von Leistner is so effing random. Who the hell wrote this? If you can’t incorporate a character properly, why bother including them in the first place?

- the passivity and anonymity of the disabled children – why didn’t Artur or Anni ever get to perceive one of them as a person? That girl Traudel for example, Anni could have talked to her

- there’s a slight tendency to “I’ll just tell the character next to me” exposition – Artur when he and Anni wake up together that one morning (why wouldn’t Anni know yet what he’s working on? That long-winded explaining sentence just came off as awkward), Peter Sauerbruch to Margot about the Dohnanyis and Bonhoeffers

_________________________________

What I like about Charité, season 3:

- I’m all pro ProPro! Honestly, that man is a treat, both how the character is written and how the actor carries the situations and interactions he’s in. He’s arrogant and narcissistic, but he’s also principled, insightful and caring, unpolitical in a smart way and honest in a quiet way, and he gets how people are, and his mentorship of Ella, how he supports and encourages her and also bluntly gives her the dressing-down she needs, is a thing of beauty. And that she has to earn his attention first

- I have a personal soft spot for the scene where ProPro is doing his sports and going jogging while talking with Ella, and then just has her run along. That man’s hilarious, I love him

- Ella’s spirited, and while I don’t love the protagonists of this season as much as those of the second, she’s still great in her own right – the dedication to her research, the strength with which she handles the shit that’s thrown at her

- everyone’s so snarky!

- the wider focus on medical history and research; we see a lot past surgery now

- everyone’s taking shit in stride – staff is running off to the West? Ok; rest gets double shifts. We don’t have a senior doctor on the ward this morning anymore? We do shit ourselves. An illness we’re not prepared to treat anymore because, actually, there should be vaccination enough? We’ll make do. I love that spirit

- positive disabled representation! Rapoport’s daughter actually interacts with people, is presented as a person, has dreams and strengths and can handle her issues – yes, please!

- we get an intersex character, not for long and the story isn’t treated with the care and attention it should have, but props for the effort, I guess

- the setting allows for Ella to focus fully on her work and passion, not really giving much on romance and marriage without that seeming out of place – Ida’s conversations most often revolved around a man, Anni was considered a Nazi role model for being married and a mother, but Ella, while the relationship with Kurt is an option, never prioritizes this and never needs it

- personally, I’m smelling threesome subtext between Ella, Kurt and Alex Nowack – that may just be me, but I like it

- how everyone handles situations, how the changes happening in the country are incorporated into the world the characters live in, how they are able to cope with stuff and make decisions, in the end even without shifting blame

- even more so than in season 2, I really like how human the patients and their relatives are, that interacting with them in the right way is made an important part of the doctors’ work, even when some of the patients are asses

What I hate:

- people are mumbling – it’s not dialects, it’s not accents; they’re mumbling. They never were in the first two seasons

- the cancer stories were really no favorite of mine; what’s with the teary melodrama and the sudden gory shock value? Come on, Charité, you can do better. Presenting the human side of everything has always been the strength of this series, so why going so overboard now?

- I dunno, the crime cases ProPro investigates don’t seem to be incorporated that well? I suppose they’re there to establish his main field of pathology, but they spend a lot of time on that “Biter” case, and I’m not sure why

- would have been nice if Inge Rapoport had gotten to interact a bit with important characters other than her husband, Arianna and Kraatz – she’s a lovable, strong female character; why keep her so one-sided?

- what’s with the black’n’white painting? You showed us how conflicted and nuanced people under the Nazi regime could be; why now the clear line between “those people are good” and “that one sold his soul to the Party”?

- you show us an intersex person, introduce her as a character, make us sympathize, show us her hindrances and possibilities – and then she’s just gone? What about her treatment? Positive development? Making Kraatz’ interactions with her a counterpoint to his interactions with Doc Rapoport? What WAS that?

#Charité #personal opinions #comparable review #Charité at War #Charité season 3

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mandadoration · 4 years

Text

you’re a fine girl - i

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though.

word count: 3, 758

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

a/n: Don’t ask me how the layout of Statesman HQ works. I really don’t know, and I’ve watched the movie to try and glean some more info, but I’ve decided, like many things, to bullshit it. This will have a predetermined length of three chapters!

chapters: i

Read this on AO3

You think it’s hilarious just how stereotypically American the Statesman agency was. Besides the front of it, a Bourbon whiskey distillery that just happens to have racehorses (you never understood that part) on a large expanse of land and have a large influence on the liquor industry all over the US, the agents that were a part of it were just so in-your-face full-blooded American. Hell, even your equipment reflected that, with electric lassos and souped-up sawed-off double barrel shotguns, to cowboy boots with razor sharp spurs and Stetsons designed for stealth and espionage. Statesman was 100% committed to proudly showing off their roots. But you couldn’t really shit on them too much since you were one of their agents as well. That would be severely discrediting you and the work you do.

Even if some of the agents teasingly call you a city-slicker.

Although you were a Statesman through and through like your mother before you, you had been raised on the less… southern half of the country because of where she was mainly stationed. Good ol’ New York was a whole different territory than Kentucky. She had still made sure you kept up with your training and be ready at a moment’s notice to take over for her. Statesman were proud of their line of agents, names often passed down from parent to child. Built in loyalty, you supposed, and a good way to keep an eye on those who knew secrets. As the world expanded and keeping the peace grew harder by the minute, they’ve strayed far from that tradition, and the organization grew to include people that had no prior connection to it. Your mom had been insistent she at least stay true to that part of Statesman, and often showed you how to watch over New York from the high rise building to groom you for the position in the future until you graduated from your unofficial codename of Ice Tea. But you had moved south to live on a small ranch a few miles from the distillery after she had died on a recon mission instead of staying up north in the concrete jungle. You inherited her position and her moniker as Agent Brandy, supervisor of the intelligence part of the agency and relocating to home base at the same time, but Agent Whiskey had taken up position up in New York in your stead.

Speaking of Whiskey, there he was, sauntering up to you with a smile playing on his lips as you flicked through reports on your tablet. You spare him a quick glance and a polite smile before you turn your attention back to the reports and mission debriefs, hoping that was enough to leave you alone, but instead he leans against your desk and crosses his arms, and you try your damndest not to look at how his arms make the seams on his jacket strain.

There’s no animosity between you and Whiskey at all, and you’ve said as much when Champagne informed him he would be taking over the New York territory instead of you. You didn’t feel guilty or mad or anything really that you decided to move closer to Statesman because it was your choice, and Whiskey had taken it in stride. You two were just doing your jobs, and that was all. You would even go to say that you were close friends with him, giving him pointers about the secrets of New York while he told you all the gossip about the other agents. The work he did would make your mother proud.

But why was he so insistent on hanging around at the Statesman headquarters in Kentucky so much?

“Your mission debrief isn’t scheduled until Tuesday, Agent Whiskey,” you say, eyes roving over your calendar before swiftly swiping it off your screen to pay closer attention to Tequila’s report. That man was awful with writing. Did he even have the spell check on? You click your tongue and run the editing software, intent on letting that run in the background while you browsed through various agent requests (there was Gin asking if you could fashion a 200 proof liquor), but Whiskey puts a hand on your tablet and pushes it out of your view.

“I know, sugar,” he says in that damn Southern accent that manages to make your ears burn. “Just thought I’d come down here to see my favorite intelligence supervisor.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile that threatens to split your face. You turn your tablet off and put it down.

“Do you know many intelligence supervisors?” you ask, but your efforts to get him to leave are already an afterthought at the back of your mind. Every time you hold a conversation with him, the amalgamation of your New York and Southern accent sounds crass compared to the honeyed drawl of Whiskey. Two completely different regions. You suppose he might feel the same whenever he’s in New York. Perhaps you two had more in common than you had initially thought.

You’re off track. It’s maddening how easily he is able to pull a smile or a laugh from you and completely derail you. Even on the worst of your days, he’s able to ease you with just a reassuring smile or touch. Whiskey shrugs and shifts where he sits.

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But that don’t mean I can’t come see you, does it?” You rest your chin on your hand as you fiddle with your tablet pen. He’s trimmed his mustache, you note.

“I suppose it doesn’t, Agent Whiskey,” you say. Anytime he flies over to the Statesman HQ, you usually see him the same day he lands, if not, you’re the first thing he goes to see. It’s sweet.

“What does it take for me to convince you to call me Jack, sweetheart?” Whiskey asks, nearly whines, really. He’s been insisting you call him by his real name in private recently, insisting that you were far past those formalities.

“When you stop calling me those pet names of yours,” you retort back. He looks mock-offended.

“That’s never gonna happen,” Whiskey says. You raise an eyebrow.

“Then there you have your answer,” you say simply, and go to pick up your tablet again when it chimes, but Whiskey stops you and pushes it back down flat against the desk.

“You work too much,” he says, as if that was a decent enough reason to interrupt your work. “Pay some attention to me instead.”

“And I’m starting to think you don’t work enough,” you sigh, and slide the tablet out from under his hand and you turn it back on and check over the editing software. “God knows you spend enough time pestering me.” You don’t tell him that you don’t mind. In the hectic pace in your lives, Whiskey is a nice constant that you find yourself falling back on.

The software has managed to fix most of the typos and obvious grammar issues, but it’s mangled the nuances of Tequila’s informal writing. You sigh again and swipe the report onto your computer screen to manually edit it before you can send it to Champagne. Whiskey hops off of your desk, and he walks around it to lean over your shoulder to skim the report as well.

He’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. Smoky, mellow, and warm.

“Why don’t you just send that off to Ginger to edit? Or Soda?” he asks, voice rumbling in your ear. “‘m sure you have other things to do other than grade Tequila’s piss poor work.” You clear your throat and try your best not to become too distracted.

“They don’t have high enough clearance to read this report,” you answer. “Nor do I think they have the patience to. Besides, Ginger is tech and Soda is medical. They’d either shoot themselves or shoot me.” Whiskey laughs and leans in a little closer.

“But I have the clearance to read this as you edit?” he asks, voice low. “You flatter me, Brandy.” You blink, then gasp, whirling around in your chair and narrowly missing clipping his chin with the back of your chair as you push him away from you and back around your desk, smacking him as you do.

“You are a menace!” you exclaim. Whiskey just laughs, humoring you and letting you push him when it would be frightfully easy to just stand there. He blocks your hits and eventually grabs a hold of your wrists to stop you.

“You love it,” he says, and your face flushes as you try to scowl at him.

“Get out of my office so I can finish this report,” you order, pointing at the door. Whiskey pouts, but makes his way to the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs. He tips his hat at you. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, sweet thing,” he says in a sing-song voice, and the door clicks shut behind him before you can do some serious bodily harm to his person.

---

You don’t really know what constitutes being “a good girl”, and you don’t really have the chance to find out because you meet with Whiskey again a few hours after he had barged into your office when Champagne calls you up to discuss some technicalities that he had remained vague on.

It’s a short underground tube ride to the Statesman office building a few miles outside the distillery, and an even shorter elevator up to the top floor. Whiskey is already there when you walk in, so you go ahead and take a seat across from him, pulling up your notes in case anything important pops up. You give him a small wave, and he tips his hat at you with a smile. You turn to the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Well, Champ,” Whiskey says, “why’d you call us here?” Champagne fiddles with the lid of a decanter of whiskey before he smacks his lips together and leans back in his chair.

“Statesman is considering adding another location in California, and I need your expertise,” he announces. He motions to you. “Sent the plans to your tablet, Brandy, but here’s the gist.” The t.v. screen at the other end of the table switches from Statesman stocks to a blueprint of a high rise located in San Francisco, alongside some smaller buildings scattered over the city. “I’m planning on sending Chardonnay over to oversee construction, but this is only the third location to be located in such a large city.” You skim over the notes. Although they wouldn’t be building a distillery, there would be a sub-HQ over there, as well as some Statesman-sponsored bars to keep up surveillance. “The first one being New York, and the other in Nevada.”

“Is there something we should keep an eye on?” you ask, scrolling through various material requests. While the other could handle the usual materials, you would have to put in a special order for the military grade stuff. “What’s the occasion?” Champagne shrugs when you glance over your tablet.

“It’s been something I’ve been thinking about,” he says. “Stocks are doing good, and there's no looming threat- seems like a good time as any.” You nod.

“Then why us?” Whiskey asks. “I think Brandy is more than capable of handling this herself.” Champagne furrows his brows.

“You are in charge of our New York office, aren’t you?”

“Brandy grew up preparing to take over for it,” Whiskey says.

“Well--”

“He’s right, sir,” you pipe in. “Whiskey’s about to go in for a mission anyways. There’s no point loading his already full plate. I can handle it.” Champagne presses his mouth in a hard line, but eventually taps the table.

“Alright then. Brandy, I’ll let Chardonnay know you’ll be taking part in it so he can refer to you with questions. Agents, you’re dismissed.”

Whiskey moves for the door, but pauses when you don’t follow him. You wave him off. “I’ll catch up with you; just need to talk to Champagne about something.” He nods, and leaves. You back around to face Champagne with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to, old man?” He tilts his head and pours some whiskey into his glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Bringing Whiskey into this,” you clarify. “You know I can handle this project by myself; why try to rope him in?”

“Thought it be a good experience,” Champagne says, taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth before he turns to spit it out into the spitoon. You wrinkle your nose.

“For Whiskey?”

“For the both of you,” he corrects. “Whiskey gets to learn more about the technical aspects, you get to, well, spend time with him.” You raise an eyebrow.

“And I want to spend time with him because…?”

“Don’t you know?” Champagne asks. You shake your head.

“What? We’re good friends, but we’ve got different jobs,” you say. “So I don’t see a reason why I should be spending time with him outside of what’s necessary.” Champagne just hums with a pensive look on his face.

“Alright then, girl.” He waves a hand at you. “Off to work.” And Champagne doesn’t elaborate any further.

---

You are far too busy trying to sort out the semantics of some sort of stirrings of a coup on a Chilean website to go and debrief Whiskey when Tuesday rolls around, so you send Ginger in your stead. She accepts without complaint, but you can see how she frowns when you tell her so. You’ve never gotten the details as to why the two never seem to get along, but Ginger is the most capable person you can think of to take care of things when you’re not able to.

It takes you a solid 45 minutes to try and go through the Chilean Spanish compared to the Castilian variant you know, but you determine that the rumors of a coup bears no real weight and all it is are empty threats despite the traction it’s gained so far. You suppose you could’ve run the translation, but there were too many nuances and codes that couldn’t be translated over. Just to be sure, you set up a surveillance bot to continue to track the progress and alert you if anything significant happens. By the time you do, Ginger walks in, looking a little frazzled. You frown. “You good, Liz?” Ginger just puts down the debrief folder on your desk as she plops down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow, but slide the folder over and survey the notes she’s taken during the debrief. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just Whiskey complaining that he has to fly to Spain to deal with some black market firearms dealers that have gotten too confident. Apparently last time he was there, some sailors tried to swindle him. There’s some quotes of his with choice words in the margins saying so, accompanied by a doodle of him with an angry expression. “Whiskey give you a hard time?” you guess. She nods and takes off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I honestly don’t understand how you can stand him sometimes,” she says. You shrug.

“He treats me fine, if not a little persistent,” you note mildly. Ginger snorts and puts her glasses back on. “Hasn’t given me a reason to dislike him. Yet.”

“That’s ‘cause he likes you,” she says. Your stomach flutters at her comment. Then after a moment of pondering, Ginger says, “Think he was in a bad mood because you weren’t the one debriefing him.” You frown.

“Would it have mattered if I did?” you ask. “You’re perfectly capable.”

“It’s not capability,” Ginger sighs, leaning forward and resting her forearms on your desk. The motion jostles the cup of pens on your desk and you reach to adjust it back to its place. You click a few things on your computer to pull up the flight details for Whiskey. Scheduled for 5:50pm, an overnight flight that lands in a remote location in Madrid where then he would be promptly escorted to Andalucia.

You wonder if he’ll come visit you before he leaves.

You shake the thought out of your head before you go back to look at Ginger, who’s looking at you curiously. “If not capability, then what?” you ask, fighting to keep down the blush that’s threatening to overtake your face.

“You really don’t know?” she asks, almost critically. You furrow your brows. There’s that question again.

“Is there something I should know?”

Before Ginger can answer, a knock resounds at your door. You give Ginger an apologetic look before you call out, “Come in!” You don’t know why you’re surprised, but it’s Whiskey, again, with a bright smile on his face before his eyes darken at the sight of Ginger. She bristles.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, reaching over and giving your hand a small pat before she gets up to brush past Whiskey, and she closes the door behind you. Whiskey seems to relax at that, and takes the seat she was in.

“If you’re here to complain about going to Spain, Agent Whiskey, I can’t do anything about it,” you immediately say before he can get a word in. He takes off his hat and puts it on your desk, running a hand through his hair.

“I wasn’t here to complain,” Whiskey says, chuckling. “You wound me, Brandy.” He puts a hand over his heart and stares at you with a woefully sad face, looking at you with big, warm brown eyes, akin to a kicked puppy. “Missed my favorite intelligence supervisor at the debriefing.” You throw a pen at him, but he just catches it and puts it in with the rest without breaking eye contact.

“Doubt you’re here just to see me,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your flight?”

“I’ve got time,” Whiskey says. “If I remember correctly, it’s not until 6:00. Gives me a little under 2 hours until I gotta leave.”

“5:50,” you correct him automatically. “So less than that. You’ll wanna leave in an hour or so to account for traffic.” The grin that spreads across his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

“You keepin’ track of when I’m ‘bout to leave?” he purrs, leaning forward. You scoff, but think in the back of your mind that there’s some truth to that.

“I’m the one that booked your flight with Triple Sec,” you say dryly. “Be weird if I didn’t know what time exactly, Agent Whiskey.” Whiskey hums, but leans back in his chair and spreads his legs in an almost obscene matter that leaves you thrumming in your skin.

“Jack,” he says.

“Hm?”

“My name is Jack.” You laugh.

“I know what your name is, Agent,” you say. “It’s kinda my job to know everybody. Feel like we’ve already talked about this about a million times by now.”

“Still, it’d be nice to hear you say it,” he says, almost absentmindedly as he picks at his nails, brows furrowed in a vulnerable expression. Your face falls at his soft tone. To be honest, your refusal to say his name was more because you perceived it as a game. Whiskey would press you to actually call him by his name, and you would coyly refuse, and he would leave with a promise that he would get you to say it one way or another. But something is clearly bugging him.

You reach a hand forward, towards him, touching the other edge of your desk. Close enough for him to reach for it. His gaze snaps to your hand, and something tells you that Whiskey wants to. There is some kind of longing in his eyes that the firm, hard line of his mouth is trying its hardest not to betray. “You okay?” Whiskey’s fingers twitch. Something holds him back.

He clears his voice, forcing a smile on his face, and the moment is broken. “Right as rain, sugar,” he says. “Pre-mission jitters, I suppose.” You suppose that’s not totally unwarranted. Whiskey would be going on into the field on his own due to the delicacy of the mission, the only backup available being Triple Sec piloting the plane. And, well, Whiskey didn’t exactly blend in with the typical Madrid population with his loud voice and louder personality. Statesman didn’t have a base out in Europe either. You give him a reassuring smile, and you try not to think too hard at how the tension seems to melt out of him at that.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you soothe. You retract your hand, and honestly at this point it seems as though Agent Whiskey has taken up permanent residence in your mind because you swear you spot some sort of deep emotion as his eyes trail after it. “Just like you always do, Whiskey.” The muscles in Whiskey’s jaw work as he clenches his teeth together before he claps his hands and stands up, that same charming smile on his face but not quite reaching his eyes.

“Well I suppose that is some improvement!” he says. You tilt your head.

“What do you mean?” Whiskey pulls the flask off his belt and takes a swig.

“Got you to say my codename without all the preamble, now, didn’t I?” he says, winking at you. You stammer and flush red with embarrassment. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Now before you start wailing on me like last time,” he says, “I’ll see myself out. Like you said, I still need to pack. I’ll see if I can bring back a souvenir for you while I’m across the pond.” You cross your arms.

“That won’t be necessary.” Whiskey shrugs and heads for the door.

“Can’t stop me, can you?” You smile at him.

“Guess not,” you say, almost to yourself, then your gaze falls to his hat still sitting on your desk. “Wait, Whiskey, your--” He holds up a hand.

“Hold on to it while I’m gone, ‘kay?” he asks. You nod. “Good girl. Give me something to look forward to when I come back.” You make a motion to grab a pen, bursting out laughing when he moves to catch it when you feign a throw. He smiles, too, more genuinely this time. “See you in a couple days, darling.”

And you can’t help but start to miss him when the door clicks shut behind him.

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey reader #agent whiskey x you #whiskey x reader #whiskey x you #whiskey reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels reader #jack daniels you #kingsman reader #kingsman #agent whiskey #whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #my writing

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toxicpineapple · 4 years

Note

How do you think shuichi would break out of his fear of the truth thing in a nondespair au? It's something I always struggle to find a reason for. In the context of the killing game, he's kinda forced out of it bc promise he made to kaede and since if he doesn't find ths truth they all die, but there just aren't those stakes outside of the game; mysteries are where detectives thrive after all. I imagine it would be a much slower endeavor and probably still need a pivot point with something big

that’s a really good question, anon. everything that happens in the games is like, rushed, almost, because of their circumstances. i mean, think about how quickly makoto adjusted to seeing dead bodies in trigger happy havoc. their circumstances are intense and the stakes are so high!!

there are a number of things that i think would serve to work in shuichi’s favour, so let me try to list them in a comprehensive way.

-shuichi isn’t a very secretive person. he told kaede the truth about his case fairly early on (granted, they were in a life-or-death situation, and kaede did Ask) and i think he’s the kind of person who, when he likes someone, would be alright with opening up. the same thing happens with kaito in kaito’s fte. shuichi isn’t the kind of person who takes his deeply traumatic experiences and bottles them all up. he lets them out and then awkwardly laughs off any kind of input he’s given-- at least, that’s what i believe. when it comes to his aunt and uncle, i think the circumstances were a little bit different; he couldn’t confide in them because he didn’t want to impose any further on them than he already was. they took him in! he didn’t want to make them deal with his problems on top of that! but with people like kaede and kaito, eh. he probably didn’t think it was all that big of a deal. it’s not like he’s “traumatised”, it’s just a sucky thing that happened. whether or not that mindset is necessarily isn’t pertinent to what i’m trying to say; getting it out in the air is a phenomenal first step.

-i think it would take encouragement. fortunately, shuchi gravitates to the more encouraging people, and in turn they gravitate towards him. he’s polite and sweet, and so kaede is really fond of him, and he’s so RECEPTIVE to kaito’s advice in feedback, that probably makes kaito feel like he’s The Shit. i think regardless of circumstance shuichi would end up friends with those two. after that, i think they’d kind of make it their job to encourage him, and that would definitely help. kaede would take the reigns i think, calling kaito off if it’s too much and giving shuichi space when he needs it, and since kaito seems to listen to kaede a lot in canon, i think it would be pretty effective.

-having kyoko in his life too as a role model would be excellent. whether as an upperclassman or as someone who works at the revamped version of hope’s peak makoto starts, i’m not picky. kyoko is so direct and matter-of-fact about everyting-- plus, she has a strong belief that detectives exist to pursue the truth. she wouldn’t let shuichi get away with thinking he’s inferior for a second!!! she’d talk to him in a flippant, factual manner, and it would get through to him a lot better than anyone would expect.

-time and experience i believe as well. shuichi would have to keep solving cases if he starts attending hope’s peak academy. as he solves more cases he’ll start to build more confidence in himself regardless, and with kaede and kaito there reassuring him about things, wounds are bound to heal. plus, maybe he’ll stay away from murder cases for a while. focus on the missing person’s cases, which seem to be his specialty. help his classmates and peers (he helps sonia solve a case in tdp, even goes to the novoselic, and he could help rantaro find his sisters, etc) and cherish the feedback and praise and memories he gets from the experience.

-i think being around his other classmates should help him too. talking about morality and nuance with kiyo, getting his insecurities laughed at (and then smoothed over) by miu-- i believe she has a really abrasive way of comforting people, like “you’re such a fuckin’ beta! the guy was a murderer, what the shit was he expectin’?”-- reasoning it out with kokichi, et cetera. shuichi is fortunate to have a remarkably insightful group of people around to advise him and help him move past it. through spending time with them and building up his confidence in himself, he’ll be able to come to terms with what happened and figure out how to stop fearing the truth.

-therapy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-most important, i think by growing to love who he is, shuichi can move past what happened and realise that he didn’t do anything wrong. it’ll take time and support from friends, but it’ll also take a good amount of work on his part. looking into past cases like that one, learning to rely on his uncle and aunt (and while he’s at it learning to call her his aunt instead of his uncle’s wife, why are you so formal shuichi) doing what he loves and continuing to solve cases. i think he needs a little bit of a nudge, a “well, you can’t just stop being a detective now that you’ve gotten accepted into hope’s peak”, because with that he’ll probably learn through working on other cases that actually, exposing the truth isn’t the problem. all truths are bound to get unearthed eventually.

sorry for the long response, anon. what i’m trying to say is that there’s a lot that would help him grow out of it, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a huge, turning-the-world-on-its head kind of situation for changes to be made. people can move past their guilt and insecurities by taking time to heal. continuing to move forward, reading their favourite books, learning to love themselves, and building support systems. shuichi has one HELL of a group of friends around him, but he’s also one HELL of a strong person who can move past things with the right amount of time and effort.

but i think if shuichi had to solve another murder case just like his first one and this time with more warning about the culprit’s motive and all that and was forced to choose between and exposing them and protecting them, that’d probably help him out a bit too >:)

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puzzle-dragon · 4 years

Note

You said you wouldn’t mind a few more prompts? I’d love to see number 4 from the smooch list. Love your work!

4. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Thank you so much! Please enjoy some post-Labyrinth-date cuties being cuties—under a read more for length (or read on ao3)

After Jasper and Eva return from their first excursion into the Labyrinth, they return to his library to do some research for the rest of the night. It is a comfortable sort of camaraderie—even with the nervous, affectionate tension that exists between them now, there is still the easy companionship and understanding that they have built over the course of their friendship.

They gather books as they talk—not only of the Labyrinth and the ley lines, but of the past month, of the fire and Jasper’s new jacket and a few of the things Eva saw on her trip to New York—the words coming easier now than they did at the start of their evening.

With books in hand, they settle in to research their new discoveries. Eva curls up in his armchair, a throw blanket draped over her lap as she reads from an old Latin text that he’s never been able to translate all of. She fits into his space so easily, as though his haven has always been waiting for her, and it makes Jasper smile.

She glances up from her book and catches him looking at her from his place on the couch. Jasper is about to avert his eyes, embarrassed, when Eva giggles and smiles back at him. She doesn’t make him talk about it, doesn’t ask him why he was watching her, simply returns to reading and allows the comfortable silence to drag on.

When Jasper gets up to move to his desk—needing more space to spread out his work, to reference multiple books at once—Jasper feels her eyes on him. Now it is his turn to catch her staring. When their gazes meet across the room, Eva gives him a look that says she’d blush if she could. Her skin remains the same deathly pale, but her eyes soften and she smiles at him again. It leaves him with the sort of butterflies in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in years and he can’t help but smile back.

He can’t think of anything intelligent to say and she says nothing in return. And so they return to reading.

Eventually though, Jasper finds something: a series of drawings consistent across three different books, each detailing the convoluted pattern of the ley lines. He can’t understand all of the surrounding text, but the diagrams are clear enough. It’s not much, but it’s definitely something and that promise of further understanding sparks that part of his being that craves new and secret knowledge.

“Eva,” he calls out from his desk chair, breaking the silence, “Would you, uh—I think I found something. Could you… come take a look?”

“Of course,” she answers, her voice gentle and far more at ease than his own.

Jasper glances up to see the way she rises with ease, the blanket discarded on the arm of the chair and her own book left open on the floor beside her seat. She all but floats through his library, pausing at his side and glancing from his upturned face to the books laid out in front of him.

“What did you find?” she asks.

Jasper swallows hard, trying to refocus on the research despite her standing so close to him. He looks down at the books spread out on the desk and points to the illustration in the oldest of the three books.

“So, um, see this drawing here?” Eva nods. “Well, the same one appears in two other occult texts I’ve found. All different languages, written decades apart, but the same illustration in each one depicting the pattern of the ley lines. It’s consistent with what we saw down in the Labyrinth, if a bit stylized, and while I haven’t translated everything yet, I feel like there’s got to be something to this. Right?”

His voice grows more confident with each word, falling back into an easy rhythm of explanation that is far less intimidating than making small talk with a pretty girl. Eva is still looking down at the desk, studying the books laid out before her. Jasper registers that she’s taken off her warded lace gloves at some point during the night, leaving her hands bare as she carefully traces the intricate red lines of each drawing.

Jasper watches her face as the ideas fit together in her brain. There is a spark of curiosity in her bright blue eyes, a need for discovery and understanding that matches his own. They are kindred spirits in this and the thought makes him smile.

“This is fascinating,” she breathes, her mind working just as fast as his, “If these are each from different countries of origin and were published in different eras, then that points to the idea of a global network of ley lines, with these types of… focal points scattered across the entire world. Meaning the set we discovered tonight could, in theory, extend far beyond the boundaries of Los Angeles to connect with or even affect locations hundreds of thousands of miles away. Though these pages are far more than we can translate tonight…”

With her last word, she turns her head to look at him and Jasper doesn’t realize just how close they are to each other until her lips brush against his as a result. It’s the barest hint of contact, not even really a kiss, but it still brings his mind back to that moment down in the tunnels—her body tucked in close to his to maintain the spell, the smell of flowers on her skin and in her hair, her gentle hands on his face and her soft lips pressed against his—and he wants that again.

They both freeze.

Part of him wants to apologize—for what exactly, he’s not sure, but an apology still weighs heavy on his tongue—but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t avert her eyes, doesn’t take a step back. She still stands at his side, mouth only a bare few inches from his own.

He desperately wants to kiss her again, but he doesn’t want to push her, doesn’t want to assume or overstep, doesn’t want to ask too much of her when she’s already given him so much trust and affection. But she seems to be waiting for him to make the next move. If she didn’t want this—if she didn’t want him—she would’ve pulled away by now, wouldn’t she? But she hasn’t. She’s still just as close as she was before. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

Jasper still hasn’t moved, frozen in his chair, when Eva’s delicate hand finds his own on top of the desk. Her cold fingers brush against the back of his hand and that touch, that silent reassurance and gentle invitation that he has already learned to read, spurs him on. He leans forward at the same moment she does, their lips meeting once again. Her free hand cups his cheek and tilts his chin up to give her a better angle, just as their fingers interlace on top of the old books.

It is just as sweet, just as tender, just as wonderful as their first kiss and Jasper hopes there will be more to follow in the coming nights.

When they finally break apart, he lets out a soft, pleased growl and Eva giggles. She’s already learning the nuances of his sounds, the same way he’s learning to read her touches. A language without words that they share between them, slowly coming to understand the other’s way of communicating. She presses her forehead to his and shares his space for a long quiet moment.

“Will you come sit with me on the couch?” she asks sweetly, “Please?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, nodding quickly.

She takes a step back, pulling him to his feet by their intertwined hands.

“You can bring the books,” Eva says, pausing before she adds, “Or we could just kiss for a while… if you’d like.”

As if he’d ever say no to an offer like that. He smiles, letting out another low, happy growl at her suggestion.

“We have been studying for a while,” Jasper finds himself saying as she guides him toward the couch. Under any other circumstances, he might be surprised by his own boldness, but Eva always seems to bring out the best in him.

“We deserve a break,” she agrees, smiling up at him before settling onto the couch and pulling him down to sit beside her. Eva laughs again as she reaches out to cradle his jaw. Jasper gives her a fanged smile in return and rests a hand on her hip as she leans in to kiss him again. He relaxes into her touch and kisses her in return.

They’ll get back to researching the ley lines later. They have time.

#la by night #jeva #jasper heartwood #eva la by night #jasper and eva #labn #jasper/eva #jasper x eva #vamily #post party mini kissing fic fluff fest #honey just put your sweet lips on my lips #sure would love for this new tumblr update to stop getting rid of my formatting

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signoraviolettavalery · 5 years

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Roswell Creators Week: AU

When it comes to AUs, Roswell has an embarrassment of riches considering how small the fandom is. While the first season of the show itself was a pretty run of the mill mystery story, fan fic writers got wildly creative, and it’s been a pleasure to discover so many different worlds! I’ve been counting down until AU day so I could recommend a long, long list of amazing fics:

To Trust Love - @laughsalot3412

(AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)

Or, alternatively, Alex gets read into Project Sheppard and immediately decides to commit treason and rescue the aliens, because he actually has a functioning moral compass. And, of course, he and Michael connect. I love this fic because the other has such a deep, nuanced understanding of how abused kids adults behave - how they react to kindness, and to intimacy, and misinterpret others’ intentions, and carry around a whole host of guilt and issues. It’s just so painfully realistic, while at the same time being beautiful and tender and soft.

i'm waiting for it, that green light (i want it) - @lacecat

The drawer springs open, and he gazes upon a twisted piece of material. Michael picks it up, and the material morphs in his hands, taking on a sheen like nothing else on this planet.

Symbols and letters flash across the surface, but he doesn’t bother reading it now - that will come later, when they’re far away from the soon-to-be-empty bank vault.

There’s a low click, and Michael goes still on reflex. “Baby,” he says then, “Is that you?”

“Don’t call me baby,” Alex Manes orders, stepping into the vault. “Hands where I can see them, Guerin.”

An Ocean’s 11/heist/enemies-to-lovers AU that I”m absolutely adoring. None of the Pod Squad are adopted, and instead, they run away when they’re 16 and start stealing spaceship pieces (and, of course, money and gems to cover up what they’re actually taking). And Alex is the one tasked with finding and catching the aliens. Little does he know, though, that he’s been sleeping with one of them for months...

An absolutely beautiful AU where you can explore how things might have been (what would’ve happened if none of the pod sqaud got adopted?) while Michael and Alex still, no matter the circumstances, form a cosmic connection. And it’s got all the sci-fi-y, Air Force/secret facilities/alien dissection elements you wish the show would have.

Kiss and Control - @winged-fool

Winged-fool is this fandom’s absolute master of darkfic. She’s also written God Called Out Sick Today, which I recommend as well, but this one’s probably my favorite:

AU where instead of Antarians crashing on Earth, humans escape a dying Earth and are taken in by a war-mongering Antar.

This has everything: space royalty, Antarian general Michael, badass Alex, kinky sex, possessiveness, unorthodox declarations of affection, and, of course, handprints. Alex rises through the ranks and becomes one of the most respected and lethal soldiers in the Antarian military, led by Michael - and, naturally, remarkable as he is, he catches Michael’s eye. Cue two lethal, powerful, badass, murderous men being absolutely smitten with each other. Winged’ fics are always my happy place, because they might be darkfics, but in their own way, they’re sweet, fluffy, and just outright happy.

What Once was Lost, is Now Found - ChelseasDeadSmile

“I drank wine when the Titanic was sinking, and beer when an amateur filmmaker tricked me into bed. Both times, I had sex before running the fuck away” he tells her with brutal honesty in his voice which seems to cause her to question if he was actually telling her the truth about all he’s been through.

“And now?” she asks trying to pull more out of him and, pleasantly for her, he feels like being honest tonight.

“The curly-haired man at the pool table behind me is looking more and more like a good idea.”

A Hello Again-inspired Malex AU. Alex is immortal. One day, in the 21st century, in a Roswell, a certain curly-haired cowboy catches his eye.

I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice - vlamito

It starts some time after he finds the glass shard hidden in the wall – which, of course, he only realizes in hindsight.

It’s not until the night after Caufield, sitting in Michael’s trailer waiting for him to come back so he can make sure he’s alright after what happened in that godforsaken place, that he’s actually able to put all the clues together.

This fic has everything: soulmates, reincarnation, and the multiverse. Touching the spaceship piece makes Michael and Alex see dozens and dozens of alternate realities, in each of which they’ve met and loved each other, one way or another. Which in turn helps them realize something about themselves and their relationship in this particular universe...

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate - @planetsam

A Martian AU that yours truly can brag about having inspired, and let me tell you, it does not disappoint. Michael Guerin makes a perfect Mark Watney, snark and swearing included.

Darken up my Heaven, Brighten up my Hell - @audreyblanche

So remember when Tyler Blackburn starred as a demon on Charmed and we all lost it? Yeah, so this brilliant fic is based on that. Michael summons a demon because he needs a date to his ex’s wedding. His ex being Noah, and Audrey brilliantly predicted him being a dick weeks before 1x11. He gets slightly more than he bargained for. Anything with that premise could be dark and angsty, but instead, this is light and happy and humorous and absolutely lovely.

bitch, I’m a monster - @seeaddywrite

Vampire AU! When Alex loses his leg in Iraq, he almost dies - but is saved when he’s turned into a vampire.

Just like everything seeaddywrite writes, this is beautiful, poignant, heartbreaking, angsty, and, above all, nuanced. As a vampire, Alex believes himself to be a monster; he knows that he has to keep his distance from Michael to keep him safe (what’s new?) A plan that is rather derailed when Michael and Alex wake up alone in the desert, stranded and helpless, courtesy of Jesse mains. And, okay, I love vampire fics; I love the trust and intimacy involved in one partner feeding on the other, and I love the way seeaddy writes Alex, with all of his complicated issues.

Don’t stay the night - @gra-sonas

Alex has a rule for one night stands: they never stay the night.

Listen, I have a lot of opinions about traumatized characters who never let anyone sleep over/see them while they’re vulnerable/see them naked/any variation on this. And this is just...*chef’s kiss*, and also resonates for me personally for a variety of reasons. It’s just so soft and sweet; Alex is the kind of guy who never lets his guard down, except that with Michael, he does. And Michael, of course, streamrolls right past all of Alex’s defense. Oh, and then there’s the Taylor Swift references, which are a way straight to my heart.

What Might Have Been - Some-Mad-Lunge

Alex leaves Roswell the day after his and Michael’s almost kiss. He comes back for his high school reunion and realizes some things never change, like the way a certain curly haired boy makes him feel.

Holy shit, you guys. Holy shit. I didn’t think giving Malex Max and Liz’s story (basically - they have an almost kiss and don’t see each other for ten years) would work so well, but it does. Alex becomes famous writing music about his lost love, the one that got away. Little does he know that Michael listens to his music and knows it’s about him.

I just love everything about this. The Taylor Swift namedropping! Alex getting to be famous and successful doing what he wanted to do! Alex literally writing songs about their ��Cosmic Love”! Making out under the bleachers! Alex discovering Michael’s cowboy swagger and sexiness after ten years! Just...everything.

#rnmcreate19 #malex

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, LINA! You’ve been accepted for the role of TROILUS with an FC change to Henry Golding. Admin Rosey: I am absolutely HOWLING. So, when I was writing Troilus, I was having an amazing time -- he’s so nuanced and seemingly superficial, but there are so many detailed facets that contribute to his happy-go-lucky attitude. He’s so utterly disarming and charming that, from the interview alone, I couldn’t help but swoon over him. Your development for him promises so much, from the sought-after revelation of Celeste’s infidelity to turning him into a hollow and hungry creature. I’m absolutely over the moon to be putting my precious boy into your hands, Lina. By all means, ruin us all. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Lina. Age | 26 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | 5 – Med school honestly wipes the floor with me most days, so I can’t promise daily activity but as I’ve said before, I promise consistency and communication. I’ll request a hiatus if needed, and I won’t disappear or drop-out without warning. Timezone | Finally back in EST (UTC-5:00) Current/Past RP Accounts | —

In Character

Character | Tomas Sabello -> Could I request an FC switch to ether Henry Golding or Godfrey Gao? I love Bob Morley to pieces but I’ve used him as an FC for long enough that I really struggle to dissociate him from the role I played. I think Henry fits Tomas’ gentle disposition best, but Godfrey has more versatility in terms of acting roles/expression which seems more in line with the mood in Verona and what he may eventually become… I dunno! I’ll leave it to you guys to choose the preferred alternate FC in the event that I do get accepted. I’d be happy working with either one.

What drew you to this character? | I really liked how opposite he is to Viv, honestly. He’s so enamored with emotion, and despite the fact that he’s an actor by trade, he’s an open book when it comes to anything that inspires feeling within him. I think Tomas loves the idea of love to such an extreme that there’s no thought to guarding himself from it. No amount of pride could keep him from offering his heart up, not even the threat of rejection. He takes and he takes, but he also gives to the people around him, indiscriminately; even to the most insignificant of passersby who’ve touched his life or inspired his creativity in some brief, ephemeral way. While Viv absorbs and safeguards whatever light she finds, Tomas reflects it freely back into the universe, and I really like that dichotomy.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

*∆* - Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s oblivion: I’ll keep this point short and sweet; I want Tomas to find out about Celeste’s infidelity and for his heart to get absolutely shattered in the process. It could be sooner, later or whenever, but I think we’re all holding our breaths for that to happen in the story, and I’d love the opportunity to portray that.

*∆* - To fight one’s nature is a losing battle: This is a plot contingent on the arc of his relationship with Celeste and details pertaining to their marriage (how long it takes for him to find out she’s cheating on him, what they do with that information, if they divorce, etc.). But essentially, I’d like to show Tomas’ struggle with his own fidelity because in his bio, he strikes me as the sort of character that doesn’t settle on one lover easily. And he loves Celeste with every inch of his being and right now that’s what’s keeping him faithful, but I think that even if her infidelity isn’t revealed, eventually Tomas will start to feel the strain. He’ll notice the little signs along the way that hint that she doesn’t quite love him the way he loves her. I think those would put cracks in the marriage even if Isabella wasn’t in the picture. I’d like to explore those, and how little micro-tensions crop up in chronic relationships when one partner feels like they’re pulling all the weight. I want to dig into that and cast the lens on a quietly troubled relationship, and I want to see how far it pushes Tomas in response. Does he grow colder? Does he seek intimacy elsewhere? Does he fall into the same temptation and cheat on Celeste, whether physically or emotionally? Let’s find out!

*∆* - Any way the wind blows: I’ve always imagined Tomas to be the unsettled sort, in all senses of the word. His loves have always been transient and fleeting, his decisions (both in leaving Rome and marrying Celeste) seem rash and impulsive… I think capriciousness is a trait of his that extends to all facets of his life. So one headcanon I have for him is that now that he’s on sabbatical from acting, he’d want to try his hand at something new. Activities or careers that he gets excited by every few weeks and actively chases until something changes and then he drops the ball and moves on, certain he’ll find his luck elsewhere. I think it’d be interesting to see him get into all sorts of mix-ups while catering to this instinct, and maybe unintentionally making himself a nuisance to other characters in their line of work in the rp. Just this over-excited dude picking up positions and then dropping them as if life’s his own picnic… It’s definitely going to rub some people the wrong way and I’m here to see it happen!

*∆* - The hardest of hearts: … I’m intrigued by Tomas’ deep resentment of Roman Montague. His bio implies that it’s his acting experience which primes him to look at Romeo as if he’s also an actor, playing a part he doesn’t deserve. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think canonically, even, Tomas’ character seems to have a lot in common with Romeo from Shakespeare’s original, or at least, the earliest version of Romeo that we see. Lovelorn and lackadaisical, an innate predisposition for goodness, and yet undoubtedly leaving lovers a little carelessly in his pursuit of love, etc. So the way I see it, beyond his judgment of Roman as being unfit to rule, I think Tomas doesn’t like him bc he sees in Roman all of the same flaws he recognizes subconsciously in himself. It’s always easier to see our flaws through a mirror. I’m interested in seeing how far Tomas would go to spite Roman in order to avoid having to confront himself. The fact that Celeste is still tied to the Montagues would also be a continuous dilemma for Tomas, who dislikes both mobs. Depending on what plots come up, I might even entertain the thought of getting Tomas tied up in Capulet business, with the singular goal of bringing down Roman Montague.

*∆* - … Destroys itself in the end: In his bio, it’s alluded that Tomas took from both his parents when it came to his nature. He loved as frequently and as persistently as his mother, but destroyed those in his wake as surely as his father; leaving his path littered with broken hearts. I want to see that side of Tomas again. Except this time, instead of it being an accident of youth and of too much ignorance, I want it to be intentional. I feel like heart-break would leave him hollow and hungry, and I want to experience that side of him. I think his capacity for hurt is almost equally potent to his capacity for love, and that’s what makes him such a compelling character in my eyes.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Through a well-developed plot, yes.

In Depth

These interview chairs are always so stiff that Tomas has to wonder whether it’s intentional. Maybe it’s to keep him from falling asleep, but he’d never do that. He likes giving interviews for the most part. Of course, it was easier in his early twenties; when he had very little in the ways of a filter but was blessed with the circumstances in life that permitted him to get away with it. Oh, and an adoring audience. That always helped of course. These days, as a married man in a new city, he has to be more careful with his tongue.

That doesn’t make him any more careful with his smiles, however. And right now he’s aiming one of his most brilliant at the interviewer who’s already started asking him questions. They’re three minutes in, but she hasn’t returned any of his good cheer so far, and that’s uncommon. He’s remembered all his pleasantries, he’s been considerate enough in opening doors and waiting to be seated - but still, nary a smile. He doesn’t mind too much, but it makes his job so much more enjoyable when they do. And as a result, Isabella Gagliano is both a damper and a challenge. But before Tomas can engage her into lowering her defenses, she’s presented him with the next in a series of fan-chosen questions.

“What is your favorite place in Verona?”

”The Two Gentlemen. Certainly the best bottle of pinot grigio that I’ve ever had.” Tomas tells her, lips pressing together as sweetly as the juice from those sticky wine grapes. “You wouldn’t be remiss either if you tried the risotto al tastasal. That’s a real recommendation, you know?” He stage-whispers with a grin, “Off-the record.” But if Isabella takes note, he can’t tell.

The truth is, it’s a lie. A white lie, he consoles himself, because sometimes, the truth is too heavy a price to pay. The truth is that his favourite place in all of Verona is the recently abandoned Multisala Rivoli. It’s a cliche, he knows, an actor finding his second-home inside of a rundown movie-theatre. But it isn’t for the movies that he goes, nor out of any misplaced vainglory. Rather, it’s the promise of nondescript privacy that draws him like a bee to to honey. There, he can meet his new friends beyond the prying eyes of the media. There, he has a clandestine spot to escape the humdrum of the city for a few hours, alone with his thoughts. But it’s not a truth he’s ready to share, and moreover, the Montagues will like this answer better. It’s a nod to their territory; a little more promotion for their best-boasted restaurant. He refuses to join them, he refuses to share in their cause, but maybe sliding in such harmless tips will convince them to lay off of Celeste’s case and stop pressuring her to pressure him to join. Truth and politics don’t mix. Every time a video begins recording, Tomas is well aware of that. But above all, an actor must always remember his part.

“What does your typical day look like?”

“What, like a twenty-four hour play-by-play?” He asks playfully. “No one’s that interesting,signorina, I promise. I remember I was asked a similar question in an interview two or three years ago. I think it was for Sorrisi e Canzoni? Or maybe GQ…. Either way, it was a much more exciting answer back then. Plays, parties, private jets… ” Tomas reminisces fondly, but not fond enough to want to trade it in for his present. “I hate to disappoint, but it’s not the same anymore. I’m a married man on sabbatical now, remember??” He says, directing the question towards the camera before letting his gaze find Isabella once more. His life is quieter now, but happier too. “Not that it’s boring by any stretch. I’d recommend marriage, actually. I know it’s done wonders for me! But if I start talking about her and all the ways she’s changed my routine everyone will be rolling their eyes and complaining about cavities before this interview’s over.” Tomas chuckles, thinking of the myriad of ways his daily life has become synonymous with Celeste. What time she wakes, what time she leaves, when she comes home or when he gets to persuade her out of the house on little dates… He has a life outside of Celeste to be sure, but it’s only around her that he’s really reminded of what he’s working towards. Like Eros and Psyche, he thinks. He loves, but she sets fire to his love and gives it true sustenance. A future, a family, a very happy ending - That’s all he wants these days.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

He laughs at that, taken aback by the girl’s directness. “Is that really what it says on your sheet??” He cocks a brow, leaning forward as if to sneak a peek. “Damn… That’s harsh.” Sometimes, his fans seem like tiny mosquitoes; hungry for every teeny-tiny drop of his blood as they submit questions as invasive as these. “I have to think about that one…” Tomas admits with a bemused shake of his head. “I try not to think of my experiences as mistakes. Even the ones that might feel like it initially. Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it? Don’t you believe that?” He looks to his interviewer as though hoping to coax another answer out of her, but she doesn’t indulge him. He’s always preferred dialogue to monologue, despite his choice of career. It takes an exchange of ideas to see the world through new lenses, and he can’t do that while talking continuously about himself. But another pensive, stolen glance at Isabella tells him that she probably won’t care what his answer is, so long as he gives one. He could make it up right here on the spot - something like ‘I’ve started a third gang in Verona to spite the Mobs‘ or ‘I kicked a dog once’, and she probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He wonders why. He wonders why she’s so determinedly expressionless.

“Do you play Poker?” Tomas asks without warning. He hadn’t meant for that to come out of his mouth but somehow it does and it takes another laugh and a wave of his hand to dismiss it. “Sorry. But you could! It’s impressive actually - in a good way. To answer your question, I think I’ll have to keep this one to myself.” It’s apologetic but firm, because his biggest mistake is failing his parents. Of all the roles he’s played thus far, that of ‘son’ has always left him most wanting. He couldn’t fix their marriage. He couldn’t inspire their divorce… To this day, his adulterous mother and destructive, ill-tempered father remain tethered to each other. Two rusting anchors, weighing themselves down to the bottom of the sea-bed… Most days, Tomas tries hard not to think about it. But there are some moments, moments when he’s feeling low, that he wonders if he’s responsible for their unhappiness; wonders if he couldn’t have done more to help them find happiness, along the way. Today is one of the predetermined no-thinkdays though. The days he’s giving interviews always are. “Sorry about that… Got anything else on your nifty list?” He prompts her, hoping to move on to a happier topic.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

This question too, gives him pause. More than he’d like. There’s the shadow of fleeting suspicion as he steals a glance at Isabella, wondering if they’re posing these questions on purpose to throw him off. But what cause would a reporter have to do that? You’re being silly,he chides himself, mulling over the question. Again, he knows the real answer.

Commitment.

It isn’t easy to choose a single person in this life, Tomas thinks. To narrow his expansive romantic inclinations and promise them to one individual and one individual only. But it’s a choice he reminds himself of every morning when he wakes up, when he cracks an eye open only for his gaze to fall on the familiar comfort of Celeste’s blazing red hair, like a halo around her cherubic face. It’s a choice he must remember when he’s comparing paintings with Juliana and hears the clear-bell tone of her laughter echo in the museum. A choice he must remember when his fingers find the soft, unwritten skin beneath Santino’s wrist as they look for stars in a midnight sky. A choice he recalls even as he listens to Paola recount the tales he’s missed in her life; eyes dancing with ferocious passion and he thinks what if, what if…

… But it’s a struggle he dares not reveal. It would insult his beloved wife, it would make a mockery of the vows they took in front of that altar, all those months ago. Worse still, it would surely garner derision from the audience, especially from his most die-hard fans; some of who still count on the failure of his marriage in order to regain the bachelor fantasy they’d attached to their idol. But idols were effigies of gold and silver. He was not an idol, he was a man of flesh and blood and feeling. Do you understand?… You will never understand me like she has, he wants to rebuke them. But there’s an old fondness that he can’t help when it comes to those who loved him first. And so his countenance softens as he answers the reporter’s question. “The most difficult task for me, has been leaving behind all my loved ones in Rome. My friends, my family, my fans…” He presses his fingertips to his lips for a moment before waving them towards the camera, sending the kiss to those who’ll hope for it most, when the interview airs tomorrow night. “I send my love, and I’m humbled by your continued support.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

“It’s-… It’s insanity.“

Now the Montagues won’t like that. But he feels the answer so strongly, and with so much conviction that he thinks the glassy brightness in his eyes would betray him anyway. Some lies are too big to swallow, even for an actor. “Brutal and unnecessary - do they even remember what they’re fighting for?” He asks Isabella, though he thinks she’s probably no closer to answering that than the other Veronesi. “You know, the stories say that it’s been so many decades now that no one knows any more… Isn’t that silly? To fight over something that you can’t even remember?” But deep down, Tomas knows it’s not that simple. Because mobs don’t need an impetus; not when there’s so much profit to be made in criminality. All the rest is just stories, to play on the sympathies of a winsome public. He should know… He played on that same, guileless sympathy, night after night after night on a front-lit stage. But art is one thing, war is another. And Celeste is tied up in this war, much as he hates to think about it.

“Maybe I’ll go back to Rome one of these days,” Tomas announces abruptly, shifting upright in his chair. There’s an ardent gleam in his eyes because he likes thinking in maybes. They’re so much more satisfying than the limitations of what is or isn’t strictly possible. “I’d like to take my wife with me. She’s never been… Can you believe it?? Never been to Rome… We could start there, then maybe a tour of Europe. Maybe a second honeymoon. I’m sure she’d like that.” He doesn’t know if that’s true, he doesn’t know if he can ever return to Rome, but it has a romantic ring to it nonetheless. And when has Troilus ever been able to deny the sweet-nothing whispers of romance, even as a city tears itself apart around him?….

Never, he thinks… Not even then.

——————————————-

(Thank you for Reading!!)

#accepted #accepted: troilus

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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tanyaryanmusic · 5 years

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To All the Buttholes I’ve Loved Before.

I’m so glad I had the opportunity to date so many buttholes.

Buttholes are such an important part of the self-development process. They highlight all the areas in that we lack. If you have trouble drawing boundaries - no problem! A butthole will come a take advantage of you until you figure it out.

You struggle with being a constant people-pleaser? You will eventually come across the forever un-pleaseable butthole.

Doesn’t matter what the goal of your personal journey into self discovery; overcoming your issues with confrontation, temper, drama, perfectionism, your value and/or self worth. There’s a butthole for that.

Of course I didn’t always see it this way. I went through a stretch of disliking, and in some cases, loathing these people for a period of time. I would relive and replay all the ways they had wronged me, hurt me or taken advantage of me. Then that got kind of boring so I decided to reflect on their impact. I was able to take away valuable and insightful lessons that helped me to understand myself and the world a little bit better. And even if in most cases I learned maybe a little too late, I still learned.

I’m not sure who coined the term serial monogamist, but I think that would describe my dating habits as well as any. I have dated enough to fully emerge myself in the experiences of various nuances of men on the butthole spectrum:

There was the one that was so sweet and sensitive but turned out that his ‘sensitivity’ was actually a stealthy form of manipulation, and for bonus points, he was also a low-key misogynist racist. NBD. Then there was the passive aggressive who wanted time, love and attention but could not request this directly so he used the silent treatment to get his way and to avoid conversations he didn’t want to have. Then the ‘I-can’t-live-without-you, you’re-my-whole-world’ one that slowly got me to do everything for him because he needed me and I was ‘always so much better at it’ than he was. That was actually super clever. Well done.

And then there was that one guy that when we broke up he called my home phone number 28 times in the middle of the night. And my cell phone 16 times. (No exaggeration here people. I’ve never seen anything like it.) And he left voicemails and texts that rom-coms base their desperate post-breakup characters off of - calling the first time just sad… the second one was more desperate. Then it was fiercely angry with horrendous name-calling. Then apologetic. Then sad again. And so on. I am absolutely one to indulge in the occasional hyperbole, but this was legit what happened. I suspect there are some deeper issues there.

Anyway. If you get the chance to reflect on these experiences in an objective manner, you get to pull out all the skillsets that they left you with. In many of my own experiences it came down to me learning to honour my value, draw boundaries, and have more self-respect.

If you get really keen on being objective, reflective and learning; you can also take away how you, yourself were a butthole. I am fully aware of the level 10 butthole I have been in certain circumstances (none of which will be listed today, because I know you think I’m perfect and I would hate to disillusion you). I also see the miscommunications that happened, and how things sort of got muttled, and therefore people got hurt unnecessarily. But hey, we’re all a little tougher now with a better sense of humour. Right? Or perhaps, the less desirable outcome, in which we’re all a little more jaded with a bitter sense of humour. Either way.

Each of the experiences with these buttholes (and my being the occasional butthole) really helped me to identify the man I chose to marry. They created this metaphorical checklist that I was able to go through.

Oh, you do that thing where you twist everything up and have no responsibility for anything? … nah. No thanks.

Ah yes, I am familiar with this technique. This is the avoid-it-until-she-gives-up technique. Nope. Next!

Hm, I am noticing how defensive and mean I get around you. I don’t like this version of me. Peace mofo, I’m out.

As awful as it sounds, there was a period of time when I was dating the man that became my husband that I was practically waiting for him to do something ignorant. But he just never really did… Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he’s perfect. It’s more that he’s accountable. He has his moments, and he’s the first to tell me he’s sorry, or that it’s not my fault or that he just needs a bit of time to figure something out. If he’s been a bit insensitive or I have felt hurt, I tell him. He listens to me and he always apologizes. (And he doesn’t say dumb stuff like: “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Or “Calm down it was only two fries!”)

My husband respects the shit out of me. It kills me that his mother has passed away because I always want to thank her for whatever she did to make him the man he is today (I do regularly thank his dad), and I want to take notes so I can one day raise a human to be so considerate and kind.

He cherishes me. He makes me feel important to him. I feel valued, trusted and loved.

I once told him about my insanely unreasonable fear of getting locked out of the house. That day (THAT DAY) he went to Home Depot and changed the deadbolt out for a mechanical deadbolt so I didn’t have to worry about losing my key. I didn’t ask him to do that, he just did. ‘Cause he’s awesome.

He always cleans the kitchen if I cook. And often will help me clean the kitchen if he’s cooked. He does the laundry, he plans dates, and buys my favourite snacks when I’m PMS-y. He also buys me flowers every time he comes home from a long stint at work.

But most importantly, I can be all the weirdest versions of myself. He supports me with my experimenting, pushing boundaries and trying new things. I am allowed to feel all my feelings, and I feel truly safe knowing that he’s not threatened by my experiencing emotions. My favourite part of our relationship is that neither of us holds the other one to blame when we are sad, upset or hurt. Even if it was their doing… we don’t say “You hurt me” … it’s “I’m hurt.”

I know that we’ve only been together for a short time but this isn’t the first time I’ve been in a relationship for 2 years, and this one is different. At this point in previous relationships I am usually acutely aware of things that are making me feel stifled and uncomfortable, and simultaneously naively optimistic that all that garbage will get sorted out - and then it doesn’t, and maybe it lasts a few months more until it inevitably comes to a strained end. I’m just really grateful to be this far in and there’s no garbage. There’s effort, communication, and the occasional disagreement. But it’s pretty mellow. And I love that.

There’s a Buddhist quote that discusses finding your person, I’m going to paraphrase it because I can’t remember it and Google was NO help. It says something along the lines of: when you meet your life-partner it won’t be all sweaty palms, heart pounding and fireworks, instead, it will be this noticeable sense of calm. AKA it won’t be this dramatic hot/cold soap opera. I think we base our expectations of love on movies, TV and storybooks - which is a distorted adaptation of reality. It’s not to say you won’t get butterflies or nervous - sometimes I still do with Brin! But mostly he makes me feel ease. And it was like that from day one. Easy.

There are many people with a long dating history of failed relationships that will tell you there aren’t many good ones left. They’re the first to tell me that I really lucked out with how awesome Brinley is. Don’t worry all, I am well aware that my husband is straight-up the tits. But I want to get across something I feel is very important. I truly feel that I was able to identify my husband as someone to spend my life with because I reflected and learned from my past relationships. I was willing to look myself in the face and acknowledge where I needed to adjust and shift for my own personal growth; and I was able to very distinctly know what I wanted in the human being that would become my life-partner. I became so clear on this that I had decided I would rather be alone and happy by myself, than to settle for a relationship that only filled me up part way.

Before I met Brinley I made a list. A list of qualities and traits that were all inspired by the previous relationships that I had experienced. It was a pretty detailed list. When I completed my list, I read through it, and my first thought was: “Wow. If this person exists. He’s a pretty remarkable person.” It made me reflect. If I find this incredible person, then I ought to be the most incredible version of myself that I can be. I ought to be willing to return these same qualities. It’s not terribly fair to ask someone for this level of investment if you’re not willing to come to the table with similar value. So I started doing my best to develop in my own areas, asking myself harder questions: Are you ready for your person? Truly. The person that you know you want. The one that is going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Are you taking care of yourself? Are you comfortable being all of yourself? Are you responsible with your money? Are you brave enough to own your feelings and your mistakes? Are you able to stand up for yourself? All of this inquiry gave me the motivation to invest in myself. To hold myself accountable to rise and expand on who I am. To acknowledge my value and observe my deficits with kindness and patience.

So thank you, Buttholes. You were the reasons I was able to make that list. The reasons I knew exactly what I appreciated in a long-term relationship and the reasons I knew exactly what I didn’t need. You helped motivate me to step back and evaluate myself and acknowledge my various strengths and the I’m-working-on-them parts. You helped me to understand and appreciate what a truly incredible person Brinley is. Without the contrasting experiences of your Butthole-ism I may never have been able to fully appreciate the gift that my husband is.

Thanks Buttholes. I only hope I was able to do the same for you.

#Buttholes dating yycblog yyc thingsIwrite boydrama learningfromshit lifelessons humour musings reflection relationships

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pikapeppa · 6 years

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Post-Trespasser Abelas/Lavellan: Don’t Wake Me Up (preview)

My first time joining @dadrunkwriting, yay! Thanks for the welcome, new friends! xo

This is not a prompt from tonight, but a post-Trespasser oneshot was requested by multiple sad readers who finished The One Who Will Live On, my Abelas/Lavellan multi-chapter fic. One lovely reader in particular gave me the exact prompt I needed to actually write it. So here: sad Solas and pining Abelas discussing the events of Trespasser, as a precursor to some heavy Abelas/Lavellan angst and smut (which will be written tomorrow in all likelihood).

***************

Abelas watched with a critical eye as the da’panelaan sparred and drilled.

He could easily tell which recruits were new; roughly a third of the elves in the room were tense with nerves, skittish as they flinched from their sparring partners’ blows. The city elves were particularly obvious, distinctive from the fright in their eyes at the use of magical attacks. The more practiced recruits were firm and sure, dodging and striking with a strength born from certainty.

Abelas wandered slowly amongst them, pointing out vulnerabilities and commending the more swift and clever tactics that he saw in use.

“Stop! Please, please stop…” A shrill cry rang out from the back of the room, and Abelas strode toward the sound. The trainees in the area had stopped sparring, and a small group of them were clustered around a young elf who was crumpled on the ground.

They parted silently as Abelas approached. He gazed sternly down at the shivering da’panelan on the floor. “On your feet,” he said, and the young elf slowly stood, his head hung low with shame.

Abelas frowned at him. “What happened?”

The young soldier took a deep, shuddering breath. “The magic,” he whimpered. “It’s… I can’t defend against it. It’s too fast, I can’t-”

“You can, and you will,” Abelas interrupted. “You know the principles. You will practice them, and you will learn.”

He stared expectantly at the younger soldier until he nodded his head, then turned to the mage who had been attacking him. “Work with him in private. Every night, until he no longer shies away.” The mage nodded confirmation, and Abelas raised his voice. “Dismissed, all of you. We will resume in the morning.”

The recruits stood straight and nodded a sharp salute, then racked their weapons on the walls before filing out of the training room. Abelas made his way back to the table at the front and watched their departure carefully, taking note of the tidiest recruits, the ones who seemed the most zealous, and the ones who looked the most defeated. He would pass the information on to Fen’Harel when he returned from dealing with the qunari.

Abelas was testing the balance of their practice staves when a calm and gentle voice took him by surprise. “I believe the stock of fire staves are particularly worn. We should attempt to replace some of them soon.”

Abelas turned to see Fen’Harel slowly entering the room. “Ha’hren,” Abelas greeted. “I thought you would not yet return for another week.”

Fen’Harel gave him a wan smile. “The qunari problem was more time-sensitive than I had thought,” he explained. The rebel commander looked particularly weary, which surprised Abelas; Fen’Harel had deemed the qunari to be more of a distraction than an outright threat.

“The problem is dealt with?” Abelas asked, and Fen’Harel nodded. “But there was a complication,” he said, and Abelas realized with a lurch that the Dread Wolf’s expression wasn’t just fatigued. It was distinctly sorrowful.

Fen’Harel sighed. “The issue was more nuanced that I originally told you,” he said. “The qunari found us through the Inquisition.”

Abelas’s stomach gave a sudden lurch as Fen’Harel continued. “Our spies encountered theirs. It was fortuitous in the end. I was able to reclaim this.” He held out his left hand.

The Dread Wolf’s palm glowed with a soft verdant light - a light that was distinctly and sickeningly familiar. Abelas’s heart leapt into his throat, and his gaze flew up to his commander’s face.

Athera. Vhenan. “Is she… did you…?” he rasped.

“No!” Fen’Harel said. He took a quick step forward. “No. She is alive. I would not…” He trailed off and bowed his head slightly, and Abelas forced himself to inhale past a selfish surge of resentment. Fen’Harel may have spared Athera for now, but they both knew it was a temporary reprieve.

Fen’Harel lifted his face again, and his expression was sad but calm. “The mark almost killed her, but she is alive,” he said. “Her arm, however…” He sighed. “I could not save the arm. The magic was too thoroughly entwined in her flesh. It will have fallen away by now.”

Abelas stared at him, bile rising sourly in his throat. He thought of Athera’s hands, slender and strong, her fingers wrapped confidently around her daggers. He remembered the way she wielded them like extensions of her arms, one shining blade whipping in the wake of the other, and her long dark braid spinning behind her like a dragon’s tail. And now one of those dagger-wielding arms was gone…

Dimly he realized something strange about Fen’Harel’s words, and he swallowed the bitter taste at the back of his tongue before speaking. “What do you mean, ‘by now’? How long ago did all of this occur?”

“A week ago,” Fen’Harel replied, his eyebrows tilting in apology. “I had pressing business with Briala that required immediate attention. Ensuring security for the eluvians that the qunari had attempted to control.” He took a tentative step closer to Abelas’s desk. “It could not wait. I am sorry I did not tell you sooner.”

Abelas automatically shook his head. “No, of course. The eluvians are essential.” He returned his gaze to the notes he’d been taking about their soldiers-in-training, but the script was as good as gibberish under his unseeing eyes.

Fen’Harel had seen Athera a week ago. She’d almost died a week ago, and then she’d lost an arm.

A week ago, Abelas had been teaching the basics of meditation and magical defense to a batch of new da’palenaan. It seemed so inconsequential now; going through drills, teaching basic magical theory while Athera almost lost her life and then lost a limb instead.

His ribs felt entirely too full to breathe, but he forced himself to inhale slowly. He gazed down at his notes with burning eyes. “Thank you for telling me, ha’hren. I… will have these notes prepared for you in the morning.” His chest might be throbbing with distress, but he had tasks to finish up. Now was not the time to mourn his ex-lover’s ersatz arm.

He lifted his pen and stared dumbly at the parchment on his desk for another moment. It took a long, numb moment for him to realize that Fen’Harel was still there.

The rebel commander was silent, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes heavy with sympathy, and Abelas felt a pique of annoyance at his presence. It was much harder to hide his distress with the Dread Wolf watching. “Is there another task you require that’s more pressing at this time?” he asked.

Fen’Harel watched him in silence for another long moment, and Abelas forced himself not to fold his arms defensively.

Finally Fen’Harel spoke. “You should go to her.”

Abelas stared at him in surprise, his annoyance instantly fading away into a burn of longing. To see Athera again…

It was all he wanted. The idea of seeing her again - the warm and steely grey of her eyes, the freckled ivory of her skin, the silken chestnut strands of her floating hair... It was the strongest impulse in his body and the most desperate wish he’d had in years.

With a huge effort of will, Abelas shook his head. “I cannot. I… There are duties here. Training in the morning. Notes,” he said lamely, with a vague wave at the parchment on his desk.

Fen’Harel shot him a slightly sardonic look, but Abelas doggedly pressed on. “It is not only this. She told me she did not want me to visit her in the Fade. She said that meetings in the Fade were not real.” He swallowed painfully. “I will not impose where I am not wanted.”

The chiding tilt of Solas’s eyebrows deepened. “Lethallin, I hardly think she would refuse a Fade visit from you right now.”

Abelas was silent. The steely sternness of his disciplined mind was telling him to be strong, to remain here where his duty called, but every inch of his body was screaming at him that Solas was right. It was extremely unlikely that Athera would reject a meeting in the Fade. She had basically said as much the last time they had seen each other two years ago.

He took a deep breath, then lifted his desperate gaze to his commander’s face again. “Are you certain?” he said. “For me to see her… You condone this?”

Solas’s sympathetic gaze softened even further, and he reached out to squeeze Abelas’s shoulder. “It is not a crime to give comfort to someone you love,” he said softly. Then he lifted his chin slightly, and a hint of the Dread Wolf’s command returned to his voice when he spoke again. “You will be discreet about our plans. I know she will ask you,” and a fond tilt lifted the corner of his lips, “but I trust you will keep your counsel about our activities.”

“Of course,” Abelas said immediately. In truth, he was not remotely interested in speaking. All he wanted was to see her. He wanted to hear her voice brimming with heat and humour, feel the smoothness of her body under his palms and taste the sweet-and-salt of her on the tip of his tongue…

Then Fen’Harel squeezed his shoulder more firmly. “This is an exceptional circumstance,” he said, his quiet voice distinctly steely now. “It cannot be a recurrent happenstance, and it is not a boon I would grant to anyone else. You understand this?”

Abelas staunchly met his commander’s silvery eyes. “Yes, Fen’Harel,” he said.

Solas’s hardened eyes melted slightly, and he squeezed Abelas’s shoulder once more before turning toward the door. “We will speak again in the morning,” he said.

Abelas nodded. “Ha’hren.” He replaced his pen on the desk and ran a shaking hand along the length of his braid. He had another few agonizing hours to wait until Athera’s customary late-night dreams would commence, but there was no point pretending he would get any work done in the meantime.

Then Solas interrupted his feverish thoughts once more. “Lethallin,” he said.

Abelas looked up to find Solas looking sadder than ever. “If an opportune moment should arise, please tell her…”

He studied Abelas in sorrowful silence for a moment longer before speaking. “Tell her I am sorry,” he whispered.

********************* Read the rest of my Abelas/Lavellan series, Vir’Abelasan, on AO3. For those who sent prompts tonight: I will write them, I promise! And I love you all! xo

#abelas #abelas/lavellan #abelas x lavellan #da drunk writing circle #pikapeppa writes

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aotopmha · 5 years

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I saw the Broly movie in a specific way (as it is I have no other ways to see it anyway - low or high quality) and have been stewing on it a little. I'm probably going to write a much more elaborate post once the highest quality version is out. I'll also try my best to not give many spoilers here and keep it vague, but I will address the big spoiler everyone knows - Gogeta.

So, here's the stuff I really liked:

-Goku's character. He cares about getting a good fight going into it all and as always, is naive in not entirely good ways, but you also see him be very empathic and sweet and care about protecting the Earth. The usual, technically, but above all, I appreciate the balance here. I was never bothered by DBS exgaggerating Goku's traits at points to the point where I hated his character (some of those points are actually very interesting to me), but it did bug me a few times. Here, the balance is pretty much perfect to me. Aside from that, he does have a pretty interesting character moment at the end of the movie (not the obvious one, but rather something the moment implies) - it's something that will only be obvious if you think about Goku's initial story in OG DB, perhaps even something that could entirely be nothing or unintentional, but a bit of character writing I think that potentially creates a parallel between Goku and Broly that I regardless found interesting. I even thought they would make it one of the central points of the story, but it's there in a much more subdued way, to the point where it could potentially be unintentional, but I chose to think it's not.

-They fixed Broly and actually made me feel for him. He has a pretty clearly defined personality, and above all, motivations that make sense and are very human. He's still pretty basic, in that he is reserved and barely speaks, but that's part of what is also unique about him to me. Much of his personality comes from his expressions and manner of behaviour, rather than a very complex perspective on the world or elaborate dialog. The complexity he has also comes more from the circumstances and the interaction/relationships with other characters around him, rather than a straight-up clearly defined character arc. However, out of any new characters introduced in Super, I think he is the best example of a character that could have an arc that could go in several different directions. Out of most of Super's new cast I feel like he has the most room to do something with. Rather than being just a story that is finished by the end of the movie, this movie feels more like a beginning for Broly.

-Paragus. Paragus is an interesting villain because he's 100% a villain, but you can still get where he comes from - and he actually even has an arc that leads to his villainy.

-Chirai is really fun and very likeably justice-driven and proactive. She's the "heart" within the movie along with Goku and I love her for being so empathic. Lemo is the crusty old man sort of counterpart to her, empathic, but more passive about it.

- Freeza is entertaining humor-wise, but also still very hateable as a villain. I like his further development into a more effective villain. He's kinder to his subordinates, ready to retreat when things look bad, rather than just doing everything to get a victory right away - undoubtedly evil and self-serving still, but much more calm and collected about reaching his goal. It wouldn't surprise me if being so lax with him would later lead to very bad things.

-The more diverse portrayal of the Saiyans. They're not just a cold-blooded warrior race, but we also see regular workers like Gine or Beets and the social stratification of the whole society plays a big role in why the story takes place at all. Basically, we get a much more nuanced look at the Saiyans.

-Piccolo's brief role. I really liked his moment with Goku and his moment with both, Goku and Vegeta later on was a blast.

-Animation and music were mostly spot on. Great, great stuff. I thought there was some odd music placement in one scene, but beyond that, I think even some of the sillier-seeming music choices fit. There were a couple of CG moments, but they didn't distract me all that much and outside that I thought the movie looked pretty excellent throughout. This is in fact probably the best Dragon Ball has ever looked and the other big reason I can't wait for the high quality version of the movie.

I had parts of the movie I wasn't as big on as others, but I didn't straight-up dislike anything in it.

-The fights took too long. Particularly the Gogeta fight felt too long. It was a pretty-looking battle, but that was just it. The fights with Vegeta and Broly and Goku and Broly, plus their double-team at least had character stuff going. The Gogeta fight is pretty much 100% fanservice stuff outside of the finale, which did a very cool perspective thing with both participants of the fight. But, again, at the very least, it was REALLY pretty-looking fanservice stuff.

-Related to that, while it fits the more focused nature of the story, it's really odd that nobody else but Piccolo seems to notice the battle. In fact, I think Broly could've been restrained by Gohan and the other fighters just as well as Freeza.

-Gogeta is pretty much the weakest link to me in terms of plotting, though. Again, imo, nothing that ruins the whole thing because I think the outcome would be same no matter which way - getting the Potara (Goku could have just gotten them from Shin by quickly teleporting there, the movie does not address this, it just says they don't have the Potara or Senzu) would've just prevented maybe some of Freeza's beating. I think a Fusion or something of that level was actually needed considering Broly's green-haired form clearly kept up with Gogeta and he went into it after being pushed by Gogeta, so I can believe Goku and Vegeta individually would've been beaten if they pushed him.

That is, if you don't consider Ultra Instinct. Ultra Instinct probably could've also done the job, but they dance around that by having Goku do the smart thing and retreat before it could happen that he is pushed too far and have him opt for the Fusion instead. If that didn't work out, Ultra Instinct probably would've done the job, too. You could replace any of them because with any option Broly would probably be pushed into his green-haired form and defeated. Gogeta has just never been used before, so it's a more unique option.

-The Minus stuff went past pretty quickly and I actually think the rewrite is very much better than the initial Minus story, but it's still kind of bland. Bardock's story fits in what the Saiyans' life is like much better, but Gine is still boring and I still basically felt nothing for this part. In this case though, the purpose for it was just setup, which is another reason why I'm more alright with it.

I think the series has had much worse writing moments than these and it makes me happy this is the most I have to complain about. It's all mostly quality of life stuff to me and doesn't break the story or it's ideas.

Above all, I appreciate that this movie took something soulless like Broly's character and gave it soul - portions of it are clearly there to just please the fans, but the whole thing is tied together by pretty strong and heartfelt character writing and themes.

I want to definitely recommend it. If you can, support it. I want DB to continue have such heartfelt stories and look so good. This is a very good direction for the series, even if I'm bummed about the older side cast not getting to do much.

I have much more elaborate thoughts on basically all the characters and, again, 100% can't wait for the HD version. I also can't wait to dig in the themes. It has a very simple, but human core.

Right now, is it my fave DB movie? Not sure. I think it's up there.

Right now, out of those I've seen, I think only BoG tops it, though. We'll see how I'll feel on rewatches.

#aotopmha talks

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 2X03 - Lady of the Lake

Did you think it was safe to go back in the water?

Well, you’re half right!

While there’s not a lake, you CAN go below the fathom of the cut to see my thoughts on this episode, and that’s cool too!

Press Release Emma and Mary Margaret, with the aid of Mulan, Aurora and brave knight Lancelot, attempt to find a portal that will bring them back to Storybrooke. But a dark force threatens their safe return. And Henry tries to talk Jefferson into reuniting with his daughter. Meanwhile, back in the fairytale land that was, on the eve of meeting Prince Charming’s mother, King George poisons Snow White, and the only antidote lies within the waters of the Lady of the Lake. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past So this is another case of the segment being all well and good, but not leaving me with a lot to say. I think the story worked pretty effectively, the characters were pretty consistent, and it was an enjoyable and emotional story to take in. I actually got choked up as Ruth was dying.

I did have an interesting character point to make about King George: ”I had a son I loved die before his time.” Now, when you take “A Murder Most Foul’s” flashback into consideration, should one consider George’s love for James as being love to the best of his understanding, albeit more problematic (Along the lines of Cora for Regina or a certain Infinity War spoiler) or as a fake love that’s just for show? His next line about wanting to “replace” James and the fact that he cried at James’ funeral makes me think of the former. Enchanted Forest I’ll never get over how disturbing Cora is when she pretends to be friendly. Normally, with characters like Umbridge, the creepiness of a false friend character comes from how sickly sweet they are, but that’s absolutely not the case with Cora. She plays her roles so naturally that if she were any other character, I feel like I’d believe her at first sight. There’s a warmth in her voice and a gentleness to her being, and that holds over to when she’s “Coralot” too.

Emma and Snow have a really great conflict in this episode. Emma’s unfamiliarity with the fairytale aspects of her culture when combined with her stubbornness allows her to gel really well against Snows understanding of the world and people here and it pits them together in a very interesting scenario where they’re definitely not fully getting along, but there’s unquestionable love there.

Additionally, the metaphorical as well as physical place where this episode brings Emma to is just beautiful. I actually forgot just how good the buildup of Emma and Snow’s relationship was, but the way that the episode builds so subtly and slowly to that revelation leaves me speechless as I am overcome by how profound it is.

“I’m not use to someone putting me first.” It’s so beautifully sad hearing Emma’s voice break as she says this. I know how a lot of people wanted more backstory for Emma, and don’t get me wrong, I’d never oppose an Emma-centric, but I feel like lines like this capture everything we need to know about Emma’s backstory better than any centric could. In this line is a dropping of one’s guard and vulnerability.

One thing that I think is misconstrued in this fandom is strength. Strength in this show is not simply the ability to yield a sword, make snappy one liners, or destroy an apple tree. Strength in this series is emotional vulnerability. Characters in this show are at their strongest when they make they discuss the darkness in their lives and why it made them who they are or what they discovered on their journey. Try to think of your favorite main character and your favorite moments with them. I’m pretty sure that among the more serious moments you chose, those where they expose the most raw parts of themselves to those they love rank highly. That’s why I love the final scene between Emma and Snow in the bedroom. It’s a revelation, and an empowering revelation, one that will come back during their later confrontation with Cora on the way home.

And speaking of Cora again...

Cora’s display of power in the episode’s climax is really amazing here. In the past, the only beings we saw her go up against with her magic had no magical or weapon-based abilities (Or in Regina’s case, she wasn’t aware of those abilities) and in this episode, we saw her magic take down not only Emma, a tough fighter, but Snow, someone we just saw shoot an ogre in the eye, as well like it were nothing. It made her (temporary) defeat so much more meaningful as it (a) involved Emma learning from her fairytale surroundings and (b) only came about as a means of unpredictability thanks to Mulan, allowing for Cora to retain that menace. Storybrooke I love how David is the only Charming who hasn’t spent an extended amount of time with Henry, thus passively characterizing him as the only one who wouldn’t see Henry running away from school coming from a mile away. That leads to some great bonding between the characters and further paints just how deep in the shit David is.

This segment does a great job with Henry. We see not only how good of a schemer he is, but also how vulnerable and unfamiliar Henry is with these magical elements. It’s rare that Henry gets such a central role, but when he does, until he hits his adult iteration, it’s important that these two things are present. Henry retains his competence as both someone who can weasel out of pretty much anything and someone who knows how to emotionally bring people together. But, the story is also clear to show his failings when his search goes too far with the snakes. It paints him as a kid, someone who can be overwhelmed with circumstances, but can also handle quite a lot, painting a more nuanced picture to his character. Additionally, while it’s only in one speech towards the end of the episode, we see the first inklings of Henry’s several seasons-long arc of wanting to be a hero in the same vein as Snow and Charming. Henry gets to talk about how he wants to sword fight and ride horses All Encompassing The theme of this episode is parents putting their children first and it’s pretty overtly shown. Note that every character framed positively (Snow, Emma, Regina, Charming, Ruth, and Jefferson) intrinsically knows this to be true and only needs to prove their understanding of this to someone else or reinforce it for the audience’s sake (Snow and Emma risk their lives fighting monsters to protect and get back to their kids, Regina respects Henry’s wish not to see her by getting David to pick her up, Charming doing more to involve Henry in their quest to save everyone, Ruth through not taking the potion, and Jefferson through heeding Henry’s advice and finding Grace for her own sake). Meanwhile, those negatively framed (Cora and George) take steps that belittle what their children want (Trying to get back to Regina after Regina banished her and George making Snow infertile). It’s a very well delivered theme that’s effectively felt throughout the episode. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -Emma, run! She’s bad news! -I really miss the more unorthodox Operation names. Cobra, Scorpion, Firebird, and Mongoose were just so clever and while those with weaker names are cool too, if only because they were normally named by characters who aspire to be more like Henry, I do like the really out there ones! -Watching the tall-as-hell Lancelot hugging the teeny-weeny Snow is just the most adorable thing ever! -”We can trust him.” *Rumple clips about knowing the future proceeds to play forever* -I actually completely forgot this subplot of Aurora being out for Emma and Snow’s blood! And now Aurora’s got a knife! -Lancelot’s actor, Sinqua Walls, does remarkably subtle yet poignant acting as a disguised Cora. -”Family is everything. Losing all hope of having one -- there is no greater misery.” *Can’t help but roll my eyes as I don’t want kids* -I’m loving watching this great Emma and Snow scene while Aurora is trailing them in the background. I missed that the first time! -Regina looks so cute in her moving outfit! Everyone rocks short sleeves in my not-so-humble opinion and Regina/Lana is living proof of that! -I would pay real money to see who had the balls to ask a magically-powered Regina to leave! -What a douchey throw! It’s bad enough you poison Snow, but throw her out? What a douche! -Awwww! Ruth is just so fucking cute!!! -I love how Charming’s performing his biggest display of sword prowess yet in the exact place where Anna taught it to him! -”Back away from my daughter!” Anyone else getting a Molly Weasley vibe here, or is it just me? -Ruth is just so loving to Snow and it’s so beautiful!!! -Going back to those short sleeves, Emma’s quite the contender too!!! -You have to wonder, did Henry know his late grandpa’s name from his book or Regina or did he just discover that little tidbit now in the vault? While Henry does give a weird look at the placard with the name, given how Regina visits his grave, it’s possible that he learned it from her or even through the book. -Also, not to beat a dead horse, but I love how Henry has an easier time unlocking the secrets of the vault than Graham. -Not to jump on a bandwagon that I don’t much care for, but Regina, you really should return those hearts. -”Maybe we should’ve gone with Operation Viper.” This is an underrated one liner. -Nice segue between the vault and the bones. XD -Ruth, no! Snow’s infertility is a temporary problem that can possibly be fixed with help from the fairies. Your problem? Not so much! I’m so glad that Snow learned from this come Season 6 when it came to another curse that befell her. “Parents put their children first,” indeed. -I know it’s night time, but i hate how dark this scene in the castle is. This is such a poignant scene, Emma discovering what should have been her room, but it’s so hard to make out! -I’m legitimately choking up at Ruth’s death. -Lancey, trust me. You want to stay FAR AWAY from that cup! -Okay, so all of my Ruth tears went away the SECOND Snow pulled out that sword on “Coralot!” Snow, I love you so much!!! You’re such a badass! -”I killed him [Lancelot] a long time ago.” Don’t be so sure about that, Cora! -Why does no one try to put the fire out? Like, water, a blanket? At least try! -Again with the badass segues from a roaring fire to a candle. Also, that candle reminds me of a “yahrzeit” candle, a candle that those who follow Judaism light in honor of deceased relatives. -”Is there something I should know about?” I love you, David! You’re doofy as all hell and I love you for it! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Emma accepting her parents - This was such an important episode to further this arc. The scene in what should have been Emma’s room is particularly poignant because for the first time, Emma gets to see a physical manifestation of all of Snow’s hopes and dreams for Emma and the fact that it’s all in ruin matches perfectly with the feeling of the two of them as to where their relationship is as of now (Note how after their final scene, Snow’s final look at the bedroom shows it repaired and in its original glorious state once more). Additionally, Snow in general gets to prove her support to Emma in this episode through her sheer protectiveness. And Emma’s speech in her old room is just a magnificent moment of realization that follows through on the conflict from “Broken.” Finally, she’s given context and it’s this that brings about the change in her. Emma and Snow stuck in the EF - We get to see a bit more of an exploration as to how Emma and Snow can hope to get home. I think this plot is so far going at a good pace, balancing out character work (see above) with exposition and world building. Storybrooke working to get them back - While not doing much in terms of forwarding the plot, David comes to the realization of needing to work together with Henry to bring Emma and Snow back. Regina’s Redemption - Regina’s redemption doesn’t get a lot of focus in this episode, but there are two big actions having to do with it. The first, obviously, is Regina preparing to leave the mayor’s office. It’s a great show as to the progress she’s trying to make and a great progression of her efforts. The second is shown not through her, but through Cora’s sheer determination to get to Storybrooke, something that threatens (And succeeds temporarily) to undo Regina’s redemption. Favorite Dynamic Henry and Jefferson - Now, to be honest, Emma and Snow had the best dynamic, but since they’re the main players in their plot, I wanted to highlight another dynamic so that I wouldn’t run the risk of repeating myself. Additionally, I did find that this was a great dynamic and given the hard time I’ve given Jefferson’s present form, I wanted to highlight just how impressed I was with him here. For the first time since the past segments of his centric, I didn’t feel like Jefferson was behaving like a moron while communicating. He, while still clearly agitated and off, was clear and actually spoke like someone who wanted to persuade Henry to leave him alone. This is what I wanted from a Jefferson scene because it’s consistent with his past self and pits him against a belief-heavy character at his lowest point who can relate to this conflict, but still disagree and provide real advice. And Henry’s a good character to do this with. He has a childlike innocence and bluntness that would make Jefferson more likely to talk with him. There’s even a great contrast to Jefferson’s common line through Henry: “Not knowing is the worst” and because so much of Henry’s current anger at Regina (And later on this season, Emma) comes from not knowing, it’s especially strong. Writer Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg, last season’s best writers, are up for their first shot at bat this season and they knocked it out of the fucking park! Three fantastic stories were told and the portrayal of the episode’s theme was very well shown, and only one occasion made it anything but subtle. I’d say that this is their best episode since “Fruits of the Poisonous Tree” just on the centralized theme and Emma’s speech. Rating Golden Apple This episode was delightful. As I said before, each ot the stories were really fun to watch and that was made even better through their combined theme. Each character got their time to shine, in ways both outward (Ex. Snow, Ruth, and Emma) and subtle (Regina). Additionally, Emma’s character development as she and Snow explored the land and all of its dangers was simply divine. Finally, we got to see Cora at her best (Or rather, at her worst) and further reinforced her menace as the main villain of the half season. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Snowing - Snow and Charming are just so dopily in love in this episode and Ruth is such a great show of that. Throughout the episode, she’s so giddy and happy for them and she just makes every Snowing moment a million times cuter! ()()()()()()()()() This season better find a new body of water soon because it is on FIRE! Thankfully, I think I know just where it can find one. We just have to follow the crocodile. ;)

Thanks for reading and as always to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this together and helping me keep the lights on. See you all next time!

Season 2 Tally (30/220)

Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (10/60) Jane Espenson (20/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (10/50)

Operation Rewatch Archives Tags: ouat, once upon a time, watching fairytales, ouat episode code, ouat rewatch, jenna watches ouat, ships mentioned

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x03 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #basically every character in this episode is discussed #ships mentioned #snowing

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