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#a balance of fiction and reality. enough to keep me not sad but enough to keep me stressed?
noxtivagus · 1 year
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SHADOWBRINGERS.... listening to the song again n oh god i love the lyrics so so much we r ignoring the fact that i have to wake up in like less than 4 hours
#🌙.vent#i just have 1 assignment due tmrrw n i don't want to do it :') like yeah i'm definitely still going to but. it's a letter to ourselves....#i write a lot to myself that is very much evident but it's so hard to actually organize it. & fuck too bcs it's due 10 pm later today#i hate doing things for the sake of academics. says me w my grades lmfao but despite how well i manage i really do hate the school system#i wanted to ramble abt ffxiv oh no i get so distracted when i start writing. but. god my mind rn i don't understand#🥹 this stupid mental block ???? w the break nearly ending there's sm more i have to do but i need to sleep . but not having this started is#messing me up sm rn. i want to put a lot of effort into it but i'm at a loss for words. i wrote some ideas days back but i've changed a bit#this moment ideally right now where i'm in a better mood than i have been for the past few days but not as brain empty#a balance of fiction and reality. enough to keep me not sad but enough to keep me stressed?#i would like to get it started now. i know i want to. but i can't. i just can't seem to. it's not lack of motivation right now. it's.#....maybe a fear? a fear that gives me some sort of mental block. because i really really want to at least start writing something but#i can't start. & goddamn this is not what i meant to write about i wanted to write of shadowbringers & maybe a little of today#but i guess this just has been. bothering me for a while. buried somewhere in my mind#i've been this age for like. more than a week now huh. it's daunting it's scary but i've always loved & sought the thrill of challenges. bu#alright i wasn't able to read anything i wanted to. nor did i watch as much as i would've liked. & i didn't really bond with my friends#save for texts here n then. talking in ffxiv w that one too. & that very one call on bday yh. & tumblr too ofc c: but i didn't do the schoo#stuff i wanted to do this break. but my rank in pjsekai's lowering. nor playing arknights/nier again yet. & fixing my sleep. but....#i didn't wake up any later than 4 pm. i went out for a walk earlier with apollo. i wrote asks to a friend here on tumblr. new books.#new game. plans to make an fc in ffxiv. i ate what i could. i got up even when it hurt. i'm playing gbf again. i'm rlly happy abt that#perhaps it's not enough for me. i can't get rid of my heavy regrets so easily. but acknowledging what i have done that was good enough#trying my best to be kind to myself in this moment even though i feel like crying. acknowledging my pain. maybe. maybe that's#i'm listening to ashes of dreams rn fuck i'm actually going to cry i think bulbel is next in my queue i#it hurts yes n i feel like crying right now but there's. this ache in my chest that replaced the cold emptiness earlier#maybe that's not a good thing uhh but the warmth. that warmth. i'm alive i'm real n there's a tomorrow n that's enough hope#it has to be. it fucking has to be. just. little steps. guide my own self slowly n softly like i do for others. i deserve that too.#i'll give it to myself. surely i must owe myself at least that much. being human comes with its many burdens but i don't need to be#so harsh to myself right? ironic saying that right now while i know there's something so dear to me i'm denying right now#it's like i'm a wilting flower fighting against time to stay alive. but the petals slowly decay n it gets colder the longer the dark night#would an outside light help the blossom find its own light? or would it make it disappear. i wonder#did the flower grow to be meant to be undeserving of such kindness? or are there thorns on its petals that serve as an unbeknownst barrier?
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nsheetee · 3 years
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Awaken
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Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.
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“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”
“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”
Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.
“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.
“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.
“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.
“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”
“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”
“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”
“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.
“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.
After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.
You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.
He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.
He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.
Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.
“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”
“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.
“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”
“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.
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It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.
Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.
“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.
“You like it?”
“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.
“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.
In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.
You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.
“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.
The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.
His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.
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“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.
“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.
“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.
“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”
It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.
“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.
“Why so many?” Chenle asks.
“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”
“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You  collect your luggage and head upstairs.
Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.
His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.
“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.
“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.
“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.
“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.
“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.
“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.
“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.
“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”
“But you’re a guest—”
“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.
“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.
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Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.
From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.
As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.
As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.
“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.
Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.
“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.
“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.
“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.
“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”
“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.
“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.
Could you get anymore perfect for him?
You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”
Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.
“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.
He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out
what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?
Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.
You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.
Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.
His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.
Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.
He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?
‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.
Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.
His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.
But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.
Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.
He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.
Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.
Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.
Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.
He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.
You’re right there.
Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?
“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.
“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.
“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.
Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.
He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.
You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.
“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”
Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.
It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.
“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.
When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.
He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.
You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.
“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.
“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.
“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”
“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.
Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.
You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.
“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.
Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.
When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.
When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.
Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.
“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.
You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.
“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.
Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.
He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.
“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.
“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.
“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.
Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.
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Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.
“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.
“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.
“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.
“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.
“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.
“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”
“What? What does that mean—”
“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.
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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 years
Link
Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.
Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.
GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.
AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.
GT: Although some people think it is.
Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.
AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.
Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.
Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.
AL: Unlike certain people.
How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.
AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.
Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.
GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.
Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.
GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.
How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.
GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”
And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.
You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.
AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.
GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.
There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.
GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.
How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.
GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.
Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.
GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.
AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.
GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.
What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.
AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.
GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.
There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.
GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”
AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.
GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”
How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.
GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.
Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.
---
Omg the mug’s origins :D
‘GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael. ‘
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xonepeacelovex · 3 years
Text
my cinderella prince
Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader
Genre: Angst and Fluff | Friends to Lovers AU
Summary: You’ve been waiting for a text message but you got different message this time.
Warning: Alcohol consumption. Also not proofread. 
A/N: This is the result of binge reading all of Mark Tuan’s fan fictions. This is also my first GOT7 fanfiction. I know I did an incorrect quotes before for GOT7. :) Anyway, this is lowkey based on real life and I wrote this for closure because I had enough of the waiting game. I’m letting people go so new ones can come in in my life. Feel free to send me a message or ask. Thank you for reading!
10... 9... 8...
Everyone around you is shouting the countdown and already popping the bottle of champagne. Different colors and shapes of fireworks light up the night sky, making everyone more excited and at awe. 
7... 6... 5... 
Four seconds before the clock strikes 12, and the beginning of the new year. You look at your phone and scroll the notifications. You are met with notifications from Instagram from the pictures you are tagged in and a few last minute greetings from your family and friends. Deciding to answer the greetings later you press the power button of your phone. Getting the open bottle of red wine and pouring yourself a drink. Finally smiling, relieved that the year is ending. Quietly joining the countdown. 
3... 2... 1...
People clinking their glasses and you simply raises yours, smiling warmly to everyone. You sip from your glass and started greeting everyone a happy new year. Though New Year’s Eve is something you always celebrated, you sometimes still get overwhelm with how noisy it can be. 
After drinking everything on your glass, you put it down on the table and started your little quest of finding a quiet place in this party. You followed a couple heading upstairs, head shaking at how the holidays spread love and happiness in the air and somehow forgot someone like you. You found an open empty balcony, a perfect place to clearly see the fireworks.
You felt your phone vibrates on your pocket, instinctively getting it. You open your phone, a smile on your face, kinda expecting a message from a particular person, only for your smile to turn into frown when it is another notification from Instagram. 
Disappointment should be the last emotion you should feel tonight. Yet somehow, you cannot stop yourself from feeling it, mostly for the fact that he didn’t missed a single greeting for the last 10 years. Sighing deeply, trying to shake off the sadness bubbling in your chest. 
Looking up, the fireworks are still decorating the sky. In some way, being alone makes you feel less lonely. Downstairs everyone has someone to put their arms around and kiss when the clock strikes 12. Here, in a balcony, watching the night sky alone, actually makes you feel good. Promising yourself that this year you will celebrate your birthday and new year on a beach, somewhere where it is okay to be alone and not look at with pity because you don’t have someone beside you. 
Perhaps its the alcohol taking over your system, the one responsible for your thoughts. Who told you its a good thing to pre game before coming to a New Year’s Eve party, where you’ll surely drink just before your limit? Slowly breathing in the polluted air of the city, hoping it will help you sober up a little.
You left the balcony in search for a bottle of water, you cannot let yourself get too drunk. When you found a glass of clear liquid, you drank it immediately without much thinking it will be an alcohol in which it is. You take a sharp breath, feeling the burn in your throat. Feeling light headed you immediately went back to your own little space for a fresh air. 
And possibly it is really the alcohol taking over your system when you saw a familiar face in the balcony. Mark Tuan. 
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You stumbled forward, not believing that the man you waited a text message from for a whole night is in front of you. Steadying yourself, you take a careful steps this time, towards Mark. Where you think you looked like shit, he is casually leaning against the balcony rail, looking handsome and cool. You think, he didn’t remember you at all at how he just stare at you or maybe its because he knows you and cannot believe that you are drunk already. 
Ten years is a long time to change. And high school for you is the worst era of your life so it should not be a surprised that you will be different from what he knew back then and the same goes for him. 
After a long time, you finally reached the balcony, grabbing the rail for support. You can see clearly now his face and from the way he smiles at you, you know he knows you. You returned his smile with a grin, “Tuan,” greeting him like before. “Y/L/N,” he replied, smiling widely this time. 
You forced yourself to look at the fireworks and stop the urge to keep staring at Mark, breathing in the air to sober you up. With the faint noise of people chattering in the background, he said to you softly, “Happy New Year.”  Blissfully, or in reality half yelling, you greeted him back “Happy New Year!”, looking at him in the eyes.
It is silly to be disappointed at him for not greeting you on your birthday when you are barely friends even back in high school. Besides he just message you every December 31 and after that like a silent agreement between you two, no one will dare to start a conversation for a whole year unless its December 31 again. 
Once in a while, Mark crosses your mind and in some way you always felt a connection between you two. You maybe treat each other as a friend or less than that but you always knew the relationship is special because what kind of friends only texted each other once in a year. 
It is funny to back read your conversation, it is only every December 31. The thought that you never greeted him in his birthday made you feel guilty. In addition to that guilt, you felt disappointed at him because he didn’t greet you yesterday when you never greeted him. Losing the smile on your face, you simply look up again at the sky. 
It is not a baseless assumption but an educated intuition, you like to word it like that, that maybe Mark really did have feelings for you. You are not a kind of person to believe in rumors especially if it is not from him directly. But all of your friends before always teases you to Mark. Whenever that happened, he just say sorry to you and you’ll dismiss it like a joke because of how embarrassed he looks like. Not wanting to be awkward with each other because of the teasing. So even though everyone says Mark likes you, you go ahead and found yourself a boyfriend. The teasing stopped and Mark also stayed away from you. That’s why him greeting you after high school surprised you because he knows and he apparently still treats you as a friend.
Definitely, you still like to avoid awkwardness so when the silence filled the room, you decided you should already go home. Even though 10 years is a long time to gather enough stories to entertain each other. Letting go of the balcony rail, leaning against it instead. Mark also lets go of the rail, this time turning his body to you. 
You chuckle at how awkward you both are, no one is expecting to see each other. “I’ll get going,” you said to him, standing up straight now. You don't want to seem drunk to Mark so you tried your best to walk straightly not until he stop you by grabbing your arm. Pulling you towards him, making you dizzy, stumbling upon him. “Wait,” he said while balancing you in his arms, “I have something to say,” that made you even more dizzy. 
Putting your hands against his chest for support, you tried to stand up alone. When you did, you remove your hands from his body, “Go ahead,” you replied to him.
“Happy birthday,” the greeting you are waiting for. Heart beating wildly against you chest, you smile at him, genuinely happy that he didn’t forget, “Thank you.”  
After this night, you’ll never see him again. You are sure. No need for your heart to beat fast for him, because like before, there will be no words spoken and the hearts will still remain clueless. And you can’t play this game anymore, not when you feel emotions you didn’t felt before for him like disappointment and guilt. Because he’s just a friend who always remember your birthday, nothing more, nothing less. You will not ask for more from the universe, you started walking away. You are maybe, once again, taking Mark for granted. Actually you’ll never know because he never said anything, leaving you in the middle.
What Mark did when he saw you leaving again after giving him that breathtaking smile was to pull you back... again. You found yourself in his arms, clinging to him. You are taken aback with Mark’s actions. You looked at him, confused, “Do you anything else to say?”, tired of this push and pull between you and Mark.
“Yes, and I hope I am not too late,” he said nervously, still holding your arms. You chuckle at him, “Mark, you already greeted me a happy birthday,” tilting your head to look at his eyes which is avoiding yours. “You also greeted me already a happy new year,” you reminded him. 
“No, it’s not about that,” this time he took a deep breath. “It took me years to finally have the courage and maybe a glass of wine to tell you this,” he stopped,  holding your hands in his, “I like you since high school,” he confessed and that left you speechless. “I want to talk to you everyday but I don’t have an excuse except when its your birthday,” Mark continued. “It’s okay if you don-,” that’s when you decided to cut him off with a kiss that surprised him initially but he returned with the same eagerness. 
“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this,” smiling, you whispered against his lips. Mark also smiles, biting his lower lip when he heard you say those words. Now you know why Mark just messages you once in a year. 
Copyright © 2021 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.
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unsaidjulie · 3 years
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jatp as a fairytale
okay so this was entirely inspired by this post. i talked a bit in the tags of my reblog and @metaorigin asked me to expand on my thoughts, so, here it is: 
why julie and the phantoms should be looked at as a fairy tale rather than your regular kids/young adult concept
let’s first discuss the differences between the two concepts. fairy tales are most kids’ first introduction to stories – think cinderella, snow white and the seven dwarves, beauty and the beast, as the universal ones. these stories serve to teach kids the abstract concepts of bad and good. 
let’s do this on the example of tangled, or rapunzel. there’s a clear villain aka bad guy (stepmother), a clear good guy 1 (rapunzel), and a clear problem (stepmother doesn’t let her out of the tower). there’s also the clear good guy 2, aka the saviour (flynn/eugene). the fairy tale gets a little bit more complex in tangled rather than the disney version, but the premise is the same, and the ending is the same: against all odds, rapunzel is reunited with her family, has eugene by her side, and the villain—mother gothel—is clearly defeated.
it’s simple. it’s showing that good defeats evil; that there is always hope, even when things seem bleak. tangled even follows the traditional narrative style where there is a twist, or low point where we are scared for the heroes (rapunzel going back to mother gothel) but it still doesn’t last. we are scared, but we have hope. 
the payoff for this is happiness with the outcome. it’s the best possible outcome, but it isn’t unrealistic – the bad guys are defeated, put behind bars/fallen out of the tower, and the heroes are safe. we have the feeling that nothing bad could happen to them, because they are happy. it gives the little kids hope. it teaches them a lesson that there is evil, but there is good that can defeat it. 
that’s a fairy tale. kids and young adult storylines, especially in the last few decades, take this and twist it. darken it. make it more like real life. 
for this example, let’s take harry potter, because everybody knows harry potter. once again, there’s a clear good guy (harry), bad guy (voldemort), and a clear problem (voldemort wants to kill harry so harry has to defeat him). the premise is simple enough. however, this is where things get complicated – this is not all harry potter is. 
there are characters like snape, dumbledore, malfoy, to name a few – characters who aren’t clearly good or bad, because good or bad isn’t black and white the way fairy tale show us. in real life, these two are intertwined, and it can sometimes be difficult to say which is which. people die in the end, good people, because even when good wins, it doesn’t win 100%. it teaches the viewer than you can’t have everything – that everything good comes with a bad. the concept of the ying and the yang, almost. there has to be a balance. 
stories about real life tend to be bittersweet, because real life is bittersweet. we don’t defeat the dragon and get the girl, we don’t escape our tower without feeling the repercussions of our isolation for the rest of our lives. the good doesn’t come without the bad. 
and now that we know the basic difference between the two concepts, let’s apply this to julie and the phantoms. (under the cut because this is getting a little long)
jatp is a tv show originally targeted at young kids, which is one big important thing that sometimes gets overlooked in posts theorising/discussing the show. most of the viewers, especially on tumblr (aka the ones who analyse the show the most) aren’t kids. some of us don’t even usually watch kids’ shows, so we’re coming from backgrounds of ya, of where things aren’t black and white, where bad things happen to good people because that’s how it works in the real world. 
if that’s the approach to julie and the phantoms, there is no way the boys become real. there is no way that something like this—something so inherently good—happens. even if it does, then it comes with a hefty toll. there has to be payback. there has to be a balance. 
it’s still a wholesome, family show, so the expectation could be that the boys cross over, find happiness that way. it’s nice enough, but it’s sad for julie – it’s her losing even more people she loves. jatp is about julie’s grief, to an extent, and it’s a vital part to julie – her grieving her mother and learning how to live with the hole in her heart. it’s only natural to show that grief doesn’t need to be the end of things, that you can grieve in a healthy way where it doesn’t put a pause on the things you love, right?
no. i mean, yes, but no. 
it’s a story they’re doing with julie’s mother. julie getting over grief is julie getting over her mother’s death, and we’re already being shown how much she has improved on dealing with that. this is the lesson that everything bad comes to an end, that you can move on even if your heart has been broken. life goes on. you heal. things get better. 
isn’t that a fairy tale lesson? that the good outweighs the bad, defeats it, until everything is well again?
if we’re taking the concept of rapunzel, julie would actually be eugene – the hero saving the good guys (luke, alex, reggie) from the bad guy (caleb). this has already, to an extent, happened – with nothing other than the power of love. whether it was their love for music, their love for one another, it was love. it was devotion. 
good defeated the bad. 
there’s also willie, who may not have saved the boys by giving them the hug of love, but he risked his own life and freedom to rectify what he’d done (which was an accident, by the way, because all he’s ever wanted was to help and caleb failed him. caleb made him a traitor. but willie fixed it, even if it wasn’t necessarily his fault. i’ll say it was love, too, for alex, aside from just the pure goodness of his heart.)
we don’t know what happened with willie at the end of the first season, but we assume it can’t have been good. there’s the balance, but is it really? we know willie will be fine. we know that the boys will be fine. we know that we can rely on the story to take us to a good place, to make us feel good, to give us an escape into the world where being good actually pays off and we can trust the world. 
i don’t know about you, but i don’t find myself trusting other fictional worlds like this. i always expect that it will hurt me in one way or another, that i will lose someone i love, that someone i love will get hurt and things won’t be the same. i don’t expect this from jatp. i expect happiness, and nothing short of it. 
this trust is the trust kids have in fairy tales. before you’re exposed to the fact that real life doesn’t work like that, it’s comforting to think that good will defeat the bad and things will be okay. it’s comforting. 
jatp is comforting. it doesn’t throw reality at you. it gives you an escape, just like fairy tales did. it convinces you that good defeats the bad. 
fairy tales are meant to show you that if you’re good, you’re going to get a happy ending. that everything can be defeated, even death (snow white? goldilocks?) – they’re teaching kids that things are going to be okay – to have hope – to not give up when things get tough, because they’re going to beat it. 
this is why the boys crossing over isn’t a good message for kids. it shows that even if you do everything in your power, it won’t be enough to keep someone. the boys will never get their chance at normal lives, at fixing things they didn’t have time to. that they will always have died young, with no real future. even if they’re playing with julie, it’s still limited, it’s still not the real thing. 
they’re still dead. they still don’t have a future. the reality is still there, and if they cross over, they will never have that little thing that means everything. 
it’s not right. it feels like they deserve more. it feels like alex deserves having a future with willie, luke deserves having a future with julie, and reggie deserves to be able to communicate with ray, have the positive father figure he’s always wanted (because you can’t tell me this isn’t reggie’s story.) they deserve more than just leaving things without a chance to live. 
a story that talks about how bittersweet life is won’t give this. a fairy tale will. and it will teach that everything and everyone is important, that being loving and caring and kind is enough in the world. that there’s hope. that even if things get tough, that everybody gets what they deserve and nothing less. that life is fair. 
netflix is a kids show. the story of julie and the phantoms is being told to kids. it’s showing kids what life is like, and it’s teaching kids that life isn’t all that bad. it gives hope more than a show that deals with actual reality does – and this is exactly why jatp has become a comfort show so quickly for so many people. 
and especially, brown girls. black girls. gay guys. jatp has got the representation and it would let these kids show that it’s okay to be what they are. that they have a future. that they deserve love just as much as the next person. that they can get their happy ending. that everything is going to be okay. 
tlrd; jatp is better seen as a fairy tale because it gives hope not just to young kids but to everybody, and that’s more important than teaching the lesson that life isn’t black and white. 
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invisibleicewands · 3 years
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Staged's Anna Lundberg and Georgia Tennant: 'Scenes with all four of us usually involved alcohol'
Not many primetime TV hits are filmed by the show’s stars inside their own homes. However, 2020 wasn’t your average year. During the pandemic, productions were shut down and workarounds had to be found – otherwise the terrestrial schedules would have begun to look worryingly empty. Staged was the surprise comedy hit of the summer.
This playfully meta short-form sitcom, airing in snack-sized 15-minute episodes, found A-list actors Michael Sheen and David Tennant playing an exaggerated version of themselves, bickering and bantering as they tried to perfect a performance of Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author over Zoom.
Having bonded while co-starring in Good Omens, Amazon’s TV adaptation of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s novel, Sheen, 51, and Tennant, 49, became best buddies in real life. In Staged, though, they’re comedically reframed as frenemies – warm, matey and collaborative, but with a cut-throat competitiveness lurking just below the surface. As they grew ever more hirsute and slobbish in lockdown, their virtual relationship became increasingly fraught.
It was soapily addictive and hilariously thespy, while giving a voyeuristic glimpse of their interior decor and domestic lives – with all the action viewed through their webcams.
Yet it was the supporting cast who lifted Staged to greatness,Their director Simon Evans, forced to dance around the pair’s fragile egos and piggy-in-the-middle of their feuds. Steely producer Jo, played by Nina Sosanya, forever breaking off from calls to bellow at her poor, put-upon PA. And especially the leading men’s long-suffering partners, both actors in real life, Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.
Georgia Tennant comes from showbiz stock, as the child of Peter Davison and Sandra Dickinson. At 36 she is an experienced actor and producer, who made her TV debut in Peak Practice aged 15. She met David on Doctor Who 2008, when she played the Timelord’s cloned daughter Jenny. Meanwhile, the Swedish Lundberg, 26, is at the start of her career. She left drama school in New York two years ago and Staged is her first big on-screen role.
Married for nine years, the Tennants have five children and live in west London. The Lundberg-Sheens have been together two years, have a baby daughter, Lyra, and live outside Port Talbot in south Wales. On screen and in real life, the women have become firm friends and frequent scene-stealers.
Staged proved so successful that it’s now back for a second series. We set up a video call with Tennant and Lundberg to discuss lockdown life, wine consumption, home schooling (those two may be related) and the blurry line between fact and fiction…
Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.
Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.
GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.
AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.
GT: Although some people think it is.
Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.
AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.
Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.
Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.
AL: Unlike certain people.
How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.
AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.
Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.
GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.
Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.
GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.
How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.
GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”
And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.
You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.
AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.
GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.
There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.
GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.
How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.
GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.
Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.
GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.
AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.
GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.
What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.
AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.
GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.
There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.
GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”
AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.
GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”
How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.
GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.
Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.
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petri808 · 4 years
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Hiding in Plain Sight
Art by @lucykirklandart @lucykirkland check it out! 💜 story Beta’d by @cashieeetime written as a reflection piece of the artwork for the @ftguildevents Fairy Tail Reverse Big Bang  -2k words
“Yeah sure,” Lucy taps out the text message on her phone, her manicured nails clicking away on the glass surface. “see ya at school 2morrow.”
She was groomed and cultivated from birth to appear perfect in every way. As the only child of prominent parents, she never dared to appear less than refined and above all obedient. She might’ve had a more peaceful existence if her mother had lived, but the woman died of cancer by the time she’d turned four-years-old. Left with a father more interested with their status in the community than for his daughter’s wellbeing.
Needless to say, it was a miserable existence for the young woman.
By the time she had entered high school Lucy was sickeningly proficient in making sure no one saw her true emotions. She was well educated and maintained honor roll level grades. Her beauty and poise attracted both awe and jealousy from those around her, despite never doing anything to attract too much attention. In public, Lucy fixed a smile on her face and always appeared to be sweet, caring, and helpful.
This attracted a slew of friends to her side. The young teen gravitated to a select group but was considered to be well-liked amongst the many student cliques around school. Anyone looking in would assume Lucy had the perfect life. It was an image Lucy maintained out of fear that someone would discover the darker tendrils of pain lurking just below her porcelain veneer.
It was like wearing a mask anytime someone else was around.
No one knew how deeply her mother’s death tore into her psyche because her father never bothered to make sure the young child wasn’t affected by it. But the emotions ran the gamut from sadness and loss to betrayal, of why would life deal a young girl such a painful blow in taking their mother away from them. It created a hole in her soul that in order to cope with the loss, Lucy had erected a wall around her heart. If someone she loved like her mother could be ripped away, it was best she not give anyone the opportunity to do it again.
She lets the phone slide from her fingers onto the couch beside her, curling up her body around a pillow, and wrapping her arms around her legs. The text was from one of her closest friends asking for help with his English homework after school the next day. She couldn’t tell him ‘no’—rarely ever told anyone ‘no’ because that’s part of her cover façade.
Dutiful obedience.
Not that she thought he was taking advantage of her, and maybe a part of her wanted to help this person in particular because he seemed to genuinely care about his friends; Lucy included. But this only served to escalate the conflict brewing inside of her. On the one hand, there is her desire to stay distant, but on the other, a human need for closeness. It was a double-edged balancing act-- Acquiesce to be helpful but letting them get too close would trigger her anxieties.
‘I hate my brain…’ Lucy buried her face into the pillow. She hated feeling so alone in this world, of having friends all around her but never truly feeling like she was a part of any group. Her brain could barely comprehend why she felt this way and her subconscious reminded her it was of her own making. Not a purposeful choice, but the results of walling off her heart. It was a constant conflict waged in her mind, and this conflict was the only consistency she’s really known.
Worst of all, she felt like a fraud. All the painted smiles, all of the lies told to keep her secrets, carefully woven like a spider’s web. Beautiful to the naked eye, yet deadly within… at least for herself. She justified every step she took in fear of everything coming unraveled and her life made bare to the world. All her so-called friends would probably hate her when they found out the truth, that’s what she believed with every fiber of her being. And so, she kept up the charade for them, for everyone, until fact and fiction were a universal confliction.
Lucy closes her eyes hoping to cast these images away, but they only burn brighter behind the lids. She didn’t want them to hate her. She wanted to be their friend. The teenage heart beating in her chest wanted what any young person wanted… to be loved. And yes, there was one person in particular who she’d sell her soul to love and be loved by, which in turn only sent her anxieties skyrocketing. Because what-if he felt the same way? But what-if it was for this shell named Lucy Heartfilia? If she were to show her true colors would he accept her for who she was?
And who was the real Lucy Heartfilia? When she was a young child, she shared a love of astronomy with her mother which smolders somewhere inside of her. She knows it’s still there, waiting for attention, that comes out whenever she notices a clear night sky. In her primary school days, literature caught her attention, especially the fiction stories. Being placed into advanced English classes in middle school opened that door even wider and provided a small escape from reality. But it never lasted because her father couldn’t see the importance of such skills for her future, so it was pushed to the side. Business was all that man cared about, and as his only heir, all the pressure of success was placed on Lucy’s shoulders. It was wholly unfair.
By the time Lucy had made it to high school, anything she loved or fancied was tossed to the side and a new persona born. Whatever interested those around her became her interests. Her life was destined to be miserable anyways, so why care about anything? At least if she was only pretending to enjoy the same things as others, it kept those people happy and at bay from delving too deeply into what and who she really was. That was the safest route in her broken mind.
She buries her face deeper into the soft throw pillow and quietly allows a few simpering tears to break free and soak into the fabric. There was no one around to hear them and blow her cover, but that only added to the weight of loneliness aching in her heart. Her father was away on a business deal, and the hired help only came by on a routine. The nights were the worst of all. An empty house save her, with only the ghosts of lives past haunting it’s walls. Lucy might as well be an orphan.
What good was she really? To keep existing as what, her father’s doll? Lucy knew he expected her to marry someone to his specifications and while she was to be of both good breeding and intellect, her place was in the shadows, silent and unheard. And no matter how much she loathed this design, she never fought back against it. ‘I’m really useless…’ What was the point of living knowing that she’d end up in a gilded cage? Too weak to stand up for herself. Foolish enough to be taken advantage of. Death would be a relief.
And even that scared her into staying silent. Lucy didn’t want to die she just didn’t want to live like this anymore. Was that too much to ask for?  
Worthless creature.
Go ahead and cry some more, her subconscious taunts back. Cry for the girl you could be and of the woman you never will become. She was caught in an endless loop of sadness and shame, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
The cell phone pings with a message, so she sweeps her eyes over the screen without moving her head.
“Goodnight Lucy :)”
It was a final message from the boy who needed help tomorrow. How polite of him.
“Goodnight Natsu”
She replies back out of courtesy, fingers hovering for a few seconds in hesitation. There was a strong pull to reach out for help too… but Lucy just couldn’t do it. Ugh! She silences the phones ringer.
Useless idiot.
There were three options Lucy could think of. End her life and become another statistic. Just give in and accept her life will never be her own. Or give up this façade and tell the truth. To be possibly disowned by her father and thrown out on the streets with nothing. Or stay quiet and obedient but with a roof over her head. Her father knew a lot of people and what’s to say if she did open up to someone, that it wouldn’t get back to him somehow? The man had never laid a hand on her, but she feared him greatly.
But she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up this façade. It was destroying her, literally and figuratively. If her life were a story book, her character would be the one who dies because they stupid enough to listen without thinking for themselves. ‘I hate myself and what I’ve turned into. I’ll never be worth anything, just a Heartfilia to carry on the legacy. To be used and exploited until there is no need for me anymore. Argh! I hate myself and yet I don’t even know who the hell that is! Why do I have to feel this way…’
If there were a way to turn off her emotions, Lucy would snap it up in a heartbeat. Just make her completely numb to everything. Truly become a doll who speaks with pre-programmed phrases. A robot who felt no love or sadness and only knew how to be a servant like in a sci-fi movie. She thought that by walling off her heart it would shield her from the pain, but it only caused a deeper one to take root. And frankly, even if she tried now to fix it, how do you erase 14 years of misery?
It would take years of therapy, hundreds of hours and dollars to do just that. Not to mention having to re-live all the painful experiences that drove her to become the way she did. So much for any chance of a solid relationship. She couldn’t subject anyone else to this, that would only make her feel worse.
An utter burden.
To ask someone to bear some of her weight upon their shoulders would be unfair, and if she truly believed this, how could she ever bring herself to open up to anyone, especially if she cared about them. Yet, she wanted to do it. At least a small part of her screaming from the depths of her mind, pleading selfishly to just tell someone! Screw it all! Who cares if they dump you as a friend afterward. Stop worrying about the what if’s because she can’t predict the future.
If only it were so easy.
A few minutes pass by as she sits there in silence, when the light from her phone illuminates the room for just a moment.
“Are you okay?”
Her breathing hitches, stopping short in her throat. Why would Natsu ask that question?! The screen goes black again bathing her in darkness, but the words had dealt their blow. Histories of conversations and interactions are replayed in her mind as Lucy searches for any justification for that message. Had she done something, said something to lead him to believe she wasn’t okay? Oh, no! She’d forgotten to add a happy face emoji or a blush emoji to her response. Is that what made him pick up on a problem.
“I’m fine, really *blush emoji*”
Okay, that should do it, right? Her response was simple yet positive, nothing to indicate the opposite turmoil festering in her mind. Ugh, she shouldn’t have let herself slip into a depressed state tonight. Perhaps her subliminal consciousness tripped up her perfect record of hiding things in plain sight because deep down she wanted to be caught.
“*frown face* I don’t believe that Lucy, somethings wrong I can feel it.”
More tears rise to the surface from the realization that her perfect house of cards were about to come crashing down over a text message of all things. Lucy could continue to lie. Should she continue to lie? Really, I’m fine just tired. Don’t worry about me. I was distracted with homework. All valid responses she could use to justify the slip up.
“Lucy? You know you can talk to me, right?”
Her chest constricts further as she chokes down a sob. How?! How does she know that to be true?! What if he laughs or ridicules her? What if? What if? What if?! ‘Stop it!’ Lucy screams in her head. Heaven help her, she couldn’t take it anymore! Natsu was her friend and in her heart of hearts, he would never knowingly hurt her.
Instead of answering the text, Lucy clicks the call button instead.
“Lucy?”
“Natsu… You’re right. I-I’m not okay…”
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Five Exceptional Fantasy Books Based in Non-European Myth
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Photo by Josh Hild
Don’t misunderstand me: I love reading well-written fantasy with roots in the familiar Celtic and English folklore of my childhood, but with the vast majority of High Fantasy being set in worlds closely akin to Medieval Europe, and a large amount of of Mythic Fiction drawing on legends of similar origin, sometimes the ground begins to feel too well trodden.  There is, after all, an entire world of lore out there to draw from.  That’s why I’m always thrilled to find excellent works of what I call “the Realistic Sub-Genres of Fantasy” based in or inspired by myths from other cultures.  Such books not only support inclusiveness, but also expand readers’ experiences with lore and provide a wide range of new, exciting realities to explore. So, if you are looking for something different in the realm of Fantasy, the following novels will provide a breath of fresh air.
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The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wrecker
In this beautifully written novel, Wrecker draws on both Middle-Eastern and Jewish mythology to tell the stories of two unwilling immigrants in Edwardian New York and the unlikely friendship that springs up between them.  Chava, an unusually lifelike golem created for peculiar purposes, has only days worth of memories and is practically childlike in her innocence.  Ahmad the Jinni has lived for centuries, but is trying to reclaim his forgotten past. The former is as steady and calm as the earth she’s made from while the latter is as volatile and free-spirited as the fire within him.  Both must learn to live in an unfamiliar new culture and find their places in a city too modern for myths even as they hide their true natures.  It’s a wonderful metaphor for the experiences of immigrants everywhere, who often find themselves feeling like outsiders—isolated and even overwhelmed— as they struggle to adapt to life in an alien society.  
Full of memorable characters, vivid descriptions, and interesting twists, The Golem and the Jinni takes readers on a journey that is driven as much by internal conflict as external action.  The setting of 1900’s Manhattan is well-researched and spectacular in its detail.  Wrecker blends two old-world mythologies into the relatively modern Edwardian world with a deft hand.  The result is not only fascinating, but also serves to illustrate the common early-twentieth-century experience of an immigrant past colliding with an American future.
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The Tail of the Blue Bird by Nii Ayikwei Parkes
One part Detective Mystery and one part Magical Realism, this novel invites readers to experience modern-day Ghana in a way that is both authentic and profound.  When Kayo, a forensic pathologist just beginning his career, is pushed into investigating a suspected murder in the rural village of Sonokrom, the last thing he expects is to have a life-changing experience.  Soon, however, he gets the acute sense that the villagers may know more than they’re letting on. When all of the latest scientific and investigative techniques fail him, even as odd occurrences keep dogging his steps, Kayo is finally forced to accept that there is something stranger than he thought about this case.  Solving the crime will require more than intelligence and deduction; it will require setting his disbelief aside and taking the traditional tales and folklore of an old hunter seriously.  Because whatever is happening in Sonokrom, it isn’t entirely natural.  
This novel is brilliant not only because of its deep understanding of Ghanaian society and realistic setting, but also because of Parkes writing style.  The narrative is gorgeously lyrical and everything within it is described with a keen, insightful eye.  The dialogue is full of local color, and while some may find the pidgin English and native colloquialisms difficult to follow, I found that the context was usually enough to explain any unfamiliar terms. Sometimes the narrative feels a little dreamlike, but that is exactly the way great Magical Realism should be.  The Tail of the Blue Bird insistently tugs readers to a place where reality intertwines with myth and magic, all while providing an authentic taste of Ghanaian culture.
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The Deer and the Cauldron by Jin Yong
During the reign of Manchu Emperor Kang Xi, China is in a state of barely-controlled sociopolitical unrest.  Many of the older generation remember the previous dynasty, and there still remain vestiges of a resistance movement hidden among the populace.  As his forces continue to hunt down the malefactors, called the Triad Societies, the boy-emperor turns to his unlikely friend and ally: a young rascal known only as Trinket.  This protagonist is a study in contrasts: lazy yet ambitious, cunning yet humorous, roguish yet likable, foul-mouthed yet persuasive. Born in a brothel, Trinket has made his way by his wits alone.  At age twelve, he accidentally sneaked into the Forbidden City—a bizarre occurrence in itself—afterward befriending Kang Xi.  Now, rising quickly through the ranks, he is on a mission to (ostensibly) find and weed out the Triad Societies, and he uses the opportunity to infiltrate various organizations, playing their leaders against one another for his own gain. With a dangerous conspiracy brewing in the Forbidden City itself, however, he is forced to choose sides and decide what is most important to him: friendship, fortune, or freedom.   Supernatural occurrences, daring escapades, and moments of deep introspection abound as Trinket struggles to navigate the perilous maze his life has become.
This novel is like a gemstone: bright, alluring, and many faceted.  At times it may seem somewhat simple on the surface, but looking closer reveals new depths and multiple layers.  Full of intrigue, action, horror, and even laughs, The Deer and the Cauldron mirrors not only the complexities of its setting, but those of the China the author himself knew during the Communist revolution. By blending together history, fantasy, realism, humor, and subtle political commentary, Yong not only beautifully captures these social intricacies but also creates a narrative that is as thoroughly engaging as it is unapologetically unique.
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Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel
Magical realism related to food has almost become a movement in itself, with novels like Aimee Bender’s The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Joanne Harris’ Chocolat, and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells all finding their places in readers’ hearts.  Originally published in 1992, Like Water for Chocolate helped create this fascinating trend, and it has become something of a modern classic in the fantasy genre.  
The narrative centers around Tita de la Garza, a mid-twentieth century Mexican woman possessing deep sensitivity, a strong will, and a special talent for cooking.  Born prematurely, Tita arrived in her family’s kitchen, tears already in her eyes.  It is in that room where she spends most of her childhood, being nurtured and taught by the elderly cook, Nacha.  The relationship that flourishes between Tita and her caregiver is a special gift, as it provides the girl not only with the compassion and support her own mother denies, but also with a passion and skill for creating incredible, mouth-watering dishes.  At Nacha’s side, Tita learns the secrets of life and cookery, but she also learns one terrible fact: thanks to a family tradition, she is destined never to have love, marriage, or a child of her own.  Her fate, rather, is to care for her tyrannical widowed mother, Mama Elena, until the day the older woman dies.  With a vibrant, independent spirit, sixteen-year-old Tita flouts this rule, falling deeply in love with a man named Pedro who asks for, and is denied, her hand in marriage.  Undaunted, the young man agrees to wed one of Tita’s older sisters, Rosaura, instead, as he believes this to be the only way he can be close to the woman he loves.  Thus begins a life-long struggle between freedom and tradition, love and duty, which is peppered throughout with supernatural events and delicious cuisine.  So great is her skill in cooking that the meals Tita prepares take on magical qualities all their own, reflecting and amplifying her emotions upon everyone who enjoys them.  Controlled and confined for much of her existence, food becomes her outlet for all the things she cannot say or do.  The narrative itself echoes this, by turns as spicy, sweet, and bitter as the flavors Tita combines.  At its heart, this is as much a tale about how important the simple things, like a good meal, can be as it is a story about a woman determined to be her own person and choose her own fate.
Cuisine is fundamental to this novel, with recipes woven throughout the narrative, but that is only a part of its charm.  In the English translation, the language is beautiful in its simplicity.  The characters often reveal hidden depths, especially as Tita grows up and is able to better understand the people around her.  Heartfelt in its joys and sorrows, Like Water for Chocolate glows with cultural flavor and a sense of wonder.  It’s a feast for the spirit, and like an exquisite meal, it never fails to surprise those who enjoy it.
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The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty
When I first read this novel, I found the early chapters enjoyable and engaging, but felt the story was no more than a typical, if especially well-written, work of mythic fiction.  The deeper I got into the narrative, however, the more wrong I was proven.  The City of Brass is anything but ordinary. While basing her work in Middle-Eastern lore and history, Chakraborty nonetheless manages to create a setting and story that are both wonderfully unique. Lush, detailed, and bursting with magic and intrigue, this book spans the lines between several sub-genres of fantasy without ever losing its balance.  
Beginning in eighteenth-century Egypt, the narrative follows a quick-witted antiheroine. Nahri doesn’t live by the rules of her society.  She doesn’t believe in magic or fate or even religion.  Orphaned for most of her life, survival has required her to become a con artist and a thief.  As a result, she is practical and pragmatic, a realist who has never even considered donning rose-colored glasses, and the last person who would ever expect anything supernatural to occur. Which, of course, means that it does, but the way in which it is handled is intricate and interesting enough not to feel trite. When Nahri’s latest con—a ceremony she is pretending to perform and doesn’t believe in even slightly—goes awry, and the cynical young woman finds herself face to face with a Daeva.  Magical beings, it transpires, are real after all, and this one is furious.  To both of their dismay, he’s also bound to Nahri, who soon realizes that he has an agenda of his own.  In return for rescuing her (and refraining from killing her himself) Dara, the Daeva warrior Nahri accidentally summoned, wants her to pull of the biggest con of her life: pretending to be the half-human heir to the throne of his people.  Worse still, she soon realizes that Dara, whose mentality sometimes seems a little less-than-stable, actually believes she may be exactly who he claims.  He has something planned, and his intentions may not be in her best interest.  Dragged unwillingly into a strange world of court intrigue, danger, social upheaval, and magic, Nahri quickly discovers that some things remain familiar.  People are ruled by prejudices, the strong prey on the weak, and she can’t fully trust anyone.  The stakes, however, are higher than ever, and Nahri will need all of her wits, cunning, and audacity if she wants to survive.
This novel was thoroughly enjoyable, and in fact prompted me to buy the following books in the trilogy as they became available. Chakraborty’s style is lyrical, her world building is superb, her plot is intricate, and her characters are well-developed.  She not only frames unfamiliar words and ideas is easily-comprehensible contexts, but weaves those explanations smoothly into the narrative. The culture, mythology, and history surrounding her tale are all carefully researched, but the tale itself is nonetheless unique. What begins feeling like a fairly ordinary mythic fiction novel will pleasantly exceed readers’ expectations.
So, while we, as fantasy readers, love the works of authors like J. R. R. Tolkien, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and Charles de Lint, there is also a plethora of other enchanting books to enjoy.  Exploring magical realism and mythic fiction based in cultures and folklore from all around the globe ensures that our to-read lists will always hold something unexpected and exciting to surprise us.  So, if you’re starting to feel like you’re in a bit of a reading rut, or if you’re simply looking to expand your horizons, open up new realms of imagination by opening up one of the novels above.  Who knows see where it will lead you?  You may just discover a new favorite to add to your bookshelf.  Happy reading!
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sleepysera · 3 years
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Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk and the Superiority of Human Nature
Oftentimes, people enjoy reading fiction to escape the harsh corners of reality. They like happy endings, and stories that entertain the more positive, lighter notions of life. If anything forces these people to confront the uncomfortable aspects of existence, many seem to prefer being guided through it with strength, resilience, and an overall restoration to balance in the end. In Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, a short story collection about personified animals, David Sedaris brings the reader’s awareness to the vividly darker shades of reality and, after forcing them to look, leaves them there to laugh or cry at what they see. Through the use of book presentation, personification, and allegory, Sedaris lures his readers until they are all at once trapped with the inescapable confrontation of the darker side of humanity. It is here, through the reader’s own concluding reaction of discomfort and disgust that the author brings the concept of human nature to its knees with humility, proving the notion that humans are not all that superior to the very nature of the animals that they would seek to always hold mastery over.
Beginning from the outset with a mirage of judgement, the way that the author and the illustrator, Ian Falconer, present the book gives the impression that each story will be a light read about animals, much like a children’s story to be read before bed. Each story is only a few pages long with a larger font, and comes complete with an entire page or two of illustration. This model mimics a children’s book, and the reader is almost invited to approach the stories with a childlike innocence, thus giving an initial illusion of a happy ending. On the first page of “The Motherless Bear,” there is a cute picture of a sad and crying bear. Although the drawing appears similar to that of a children’s book, the story immediately takes a darker turn as the bear’s mother suddenly dies leaving her to grieve. The reader follows her further and soon understands that the bear stays in her unresolved grief looking only for the attention that comes with sympathy. As her life begins to unravel due to her endless complaints in search of such attention, she finally finds someone undeniably much worse off than her: a male bear who was taken prisoner by a human village, where they treat him horrendously. They had knocked out his teeth and beat him, among various other mistreatments.
As the bear is about to complain again, she is ambushed by the humans and taken hostage herself. The male bear is disposed of, and the story ends as she becomes the new prisoner living under the horrible conditions. On the last page is an illustration of the same bear, still sad, but now she is covered in sores, missing teeth, and is missing fur all over. Through the power of presentation and illustration, Sedaris and Falconer present a misleading premise that slowly unravels as the stories and illustrations evolve, getting darker, more grotesque, and more violent with every page. This progression reflects and coincides with the growing suspense that this was a book meant to captivate the mind and force it to face that which it has always been too uncomfortable to face about itself. After being lured in, the reader is given no choice but to confront the truth that life is never wholly innocent, and that there are horrible realities to be reconciled with the nature of life itself.
“‘But the muzzle--,’ the bear said.
‘That’s just to make me look dangerous.’
“Oh,’ the bear said. ‘I get it.’
‘No,’ he told her, ‘I don’t think you do. See, I have got maggots living in my knees. I’m alive, but flies are raising families in my flesh’” (Sedaris 37).
Following the initial impression left by the illustrations, the reader then notices the obvious use of personification, as each story revolves around animal characters who act and speak as though they were human. The reader, as a human, is emotionally removed enough from the animal characters to see clearly and place judgement on the absurdities and faults that develop within each story. With a focus upon animals, there is an understood concept that they are not one of “us,” and the reader is guided to feel more objectively upon each glimpse into the animals’ lives. In one of the stories, “The Mouse and the Snake,” a mouse adopts a baby snake as her pet. Immediately apparent is the ironic concept of prey adopting predator, and as the story progresses, the metaphor of humans adopting dangerous animals as pets grows all the stronger. 
“In time she stopped using the word, ‘pet,’ as it seemed demeaning. The term ‘to own’ was banished as well, as it made it sound as though she were keeping him against his will, like a firefly trapped in a jar. ‘He’s a reptile companion,’ she took to saying, and thus, in time, he became her only companion” (Sedaris 43).
Even though humans do the same with their own pets, the personification of a mouse doing the same action encourages emotional removal to the point of judgement. The reader begins to place judgement upon the mouse. The mouse grows more infatuated with her “companion,” and begins to exhibit absurd behaviors such as trying to speak in hisses so that the snake could perhaps understand her. Yet, progress further, and the lighter reflections of human behavior towards pets continues into the extreme, and the mouse has slit her own tongue while covering up blatant murder to feed her “companion.” The reader journeys through this crescendo of absurdity until at the climax the reader discovers the snake has eaten the mouse. As a human being, the reader is led to view this ending as not only inevitable, but highly foolish--and yet, it leaves the reader with a subtle discomfort anyway, as though finding themselves at a crossroads in perception. The boundary between what is acceptable and unacceptable to humanity is blurred as this personification to the point of absurdity forces the reader to see that which humans would judge negatively in others, and that which humans would be hesitant to judge themselves for. The ability to objectively judge the personified animals was a mere illusion, for we as humans are forced to reckon with the recognition that we are no better ourselves.
To emphasize the absurdity of human judgement, Sedaris utilizes the structure of allegory to lead the reader into further acknowledging the faults of human nature. With blurred human and animal behavior through allegory showing such grotesque suggestions on humanity, the reader is left to react on their own, with humor or disgust. By establishing the reader’s attention with the illusion of innocence and judgement, the author then hones in precisely on the specific aspects of society he wants to address. In “The Judicious Brown Chicken,” for example, he allegorizes the concept of human reasoning and with a laser focus exponentially increases the absurd aspects of reasoning to the point of satire. The brown chicken witnesses several deaths around her, and in her desperate quest to survive, she reasons out how it was each victim’s fault that they died.
“The hawk could just as easily have abducted her, but it did not. The question was, why? A less spiritual being might have taken a practical approach: the guinea hen was smaller and easier to carry. But that wasn’t the answer, and the chicken knew it. The hen had been killed because she empathized too much and was strange to boot” (Sedaris 115).
Unable to cope with overwhelming anxiety about death, the fear of the unknown mixes bizarrely with the need for logical reasoning in a blind grab for the mirage of control over uncontrollable circumstances. Humans, as well as this chicken, often resort to explaining the unexplainable with spiritual rationalizations, even though these happenings are scientifically more likely dictated by chance. Through picking and choosing what to believe--even at the expense of logic and rationality--the chicken’s story mimics countless stories over human history, hinting at a deeper underlying aspect of human nature that is uncomfortable for us to face head on. With the amplified strangeness of the chicken’s reasoning, the human reader has no choice but to realize that human beings have been known to enact similar lines of thinking, and still do all the time. Throughout history we see civilizations evolve in similar ways, often intertwining politics with religion, such as with the witch hunts beginning in the 15th century. By placing blame on a victim for dying, the chicken feels comforted by the illusion of control over the chaotic nature of life and death. So too, would humans seek any explanation that could help them reject the chaos of existence; yet, as we can see with the chicken, the depths we go to in blaming others might very well have no actual foundations in reality. These stories confront people with uncomfortable ideas which they would often rather deny, and the reaction they have over them are telling in what shadows of human nature they would rather escape than admit are really there.
The end result with Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is a collection of short stories dripping with irony, all of which are offensive first and foremost in their unflinching reflections upon the truth behind human nature. Though the reader may wish to deny looking at such darker aspects of life, the very presence of discomfort and revulsion in response to the themes illuminate a certain truth--a certain recognition. It is in this spark of recognition that Sedaris catches the reader off-guard, and it is in this recognition that the reader may react with disgust or humor. To cry is to deny the truth, but to laugh is to acknowledge and even accept such reflections that humans are petty, weak, and violent. With a piercing gaze, Sedaris unflinchingly expresses the hypocrisy, irony, and idiocy of human nature. With his ruthless satire, he forces his reader to acknowledge or deny these darker aspects, humbling human nature’s pride and wounding its ego with this final message: we are not as superior as we would like to think.
Works Cited
Sedaris, David. Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk. Little, Brown and Company, 2010.
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toast-the-unknowing · 4 years
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Hi there, toast. Cutting to the chase: you're one of my favorite writers — not just one of my favorite fanfic writers. your short stories for the raven cycle are some of the funniest, tightest, emotionally devastating, well-crafted works of fiction i've encountered in awhile — better than a lot """"real-world, published"""" stuff. I kind of want to know more about how you got to this point. I think you've mentioned a background in screenwriting? But I don't think that's your day job? 1/?
2/? Really, I'm asking because you seem to have found a way to write regularly — to develop your chops and publish your art in a way that seems emotionally satisfying for you. to an outsider like myself, you seem to have struck a balance between living a life that pays the bills, and artmaking in a way that feeds your soul. you might not feel that way, i don't know. i'm someone who studied writing in college and am now wondering if and how i can still water that seed....
3/? when the reality is i also need to make money to live. i guess i'm curious about your life model right now, and if you're happy with the way you're currently fulfilling yourself creatively. do you want to be a """""published writer""""" someday? is your job one that is also creatively fulfilling, or is it more to pay the bills so that you can do your own creative projects in your free time?
4/4 I know my question isn't very clear, and I'm not sure it's even one question. the point is, i admire you, and you seem to be in a habit of writing creatively, even though i think you have an unrelated day job, and that balance seems mysterious and desirable to me.
Thank you for your kind words, Anon! I have attempted to write something helpful, but it got very long, so I am putting it behind a cut:
Keeping your art alive when you have to work an unrelated job is not easy. Struggling with it does not mean that you're failing, or that it can't be done, or that you won't get better at it down the road. It's also not the sort of thing where you hit equilibrium and it's all smooth sailing from there. I have gotten better at fitting my writing into my life, and I've figured out strategies and coping mechanisms and how to be better at just making myself do it even if I feel "blocked," but there are still stretches of time where it's harder to manage. Those periods don't last forever, and if it sometimes gets worse, it also sometimes gets better.
I suspect you know all of this, Anon, because you sound like a reasonable person and because you balanced writing and schoolwork, which can itself be tricky. I say it anyway because this is exactly the kind of subject where mean little thoughts like to sneak into your head and make you doubt yourself, and I think we could all use a reminder.
There are many writers who will say that you have to write every single day. Often they will say that you have to write at the same time every single day, or that you need to wake up early to write before work. These writers depress and demotivate me, because I don't actually have a writing "habit" in that there's no schedule or daily goal or set of standards involved. Some days I write a lot and some days I don't write at all. Shaming myself about that fact has never been helpful.
What has been helpful: an increased understanding of my writing process. Realizing I don't have to outline? Helpful! Realizing that generating ideas and fleshing out scenes and shaping the arc of a story and making it pretty are all different skills and some days one comes easier than the others? Helpful! Realizing that I tend to have an "a-hah" moment that tells me what the story is about, after which it's easier to write the story? Helpful! Realizing that if I can't think of an adjective or a line of dialogue or a joke, I can just put an asterisk and come back to it later, instead of halting the entire writing process until I come up with it? Helpful!
I don't know if any of these particular things would be helpful to you, because your writing process probably works differently than mine. Somebody out there absolutely does need to outline before they can write, or so I assume from the fact that it is mandated in virtually every book on writing I have ever read. You studied writing in school, so it's possible that you already have a great understanding of your process; it's also possible you have internalized a lot of other people's ideas of what you're writing should look like. Most of what I know about how I write was learned in the last few years, not in school.
It is also possible that you have a good understanding of what your process looks like when that gets to be the thing that takes up the majority of your time. In which case, you probably need to consider your life and your schedule as it is now. I know, for example, that I don't get much writing done of weekend days where I stay in bed late, even though I still end up with more free time than I'd have on a weekday, so if I want to write on a weekend I need to get up. Are there any times of day, or the days of the week, or the places where it is easier to write? What factors make it harder to write? Can you minimize those factors? When you can't, because you livelihood depends on them, can you acknowledge them as a fact of life and forgive yourself for being affected by them?
It's unpleasant but undeniable that working impacts writing. We aren't able to spend the time we'd like to on writing. We don't have the energy and focus that we had in school, when our writing was our main responsibility. Now our primary responsibility is making enough money to survive, and if that makes us sad to think about, well, it's only going to make us sadder if on top of that we try to hold ourselves to the amount of writing we'd do if that weren't true.
It isn’t strictly a numbers game where more time = more writing, which I think can be reassuring for those of us who don’t get as much time as we’d like for writing. I was unemployed or working part-time for the entirety of 2016 and I did not do more writing in 2016 than I am now. I had more time, but I was much more of a mess, as a person, and I wasn't as dedicated to writing. In a counter-intuitive way, I think it can help to have creative outlets besides writing. It does take time away from something that you already don’t get as much time as you want to do, but it means that you have a place to be creative even when the words aren't coming, a place with less pressure and lower stakes. I've done improv pretty casually for the last couple of years, and aside from the fact that I think improv in particular can be extremely helpful for writers, it means that when I've been unhappy with my writing, I could show up to improv and do a silly voice or shuffle around in a crabwalk and know that I had created something.
These are some things that have helped me write while also working: Improv. Mindfulness about writing. Mindfulness about life in general. Prioritizing my writing (guys, I watch so much less television than I used to). Therapy and medication, to be honest. Remembering why I am excited about the projects that I’m working on. Giving myself freedom to start new stories while also encouraging myself to finish old ones. Having an audience to share things with, because it is hard to write without knowing that anyone will ever read what you are pouring so much of yourself into.
It has taken me a few days to answer this, Anon, because I wanted to give a considered response, and also just because adult life! so busy! I keep coming back to the questions of whether I am emotionally satisfied with the writing I am doing, and whether I have a good balance between my writing and my work. Because I really think that I am creatively satisfied right now, and if I am mostly aware of that most of the time, I don't know that I'd really phrased it like that to myself before. If I had then I had forgotten it. And it's a powerful and wonderful thing to be able to say that to myself.
I have a degree in screenwriting, but I have never made a career of it and am not pursuing one now. The dream used to be writing for television. Before that the dream was to be a traditionally published author. Now...I don't know what the dream is. I would like to do original work again some day. I have a novel in my head that is very important to me, whose characters helped me get through some hard times, and I want to give that novel the life that it deserves. I would like to do something with my screenwriting degree at some point, although it will likely never make me money. Sometimes it feels like failure that I don't have a new dream, and that I gave up on the old ones. But for the most part, for now, I'm very happy writing fanfiction. I've written a lot of stories, particularly in the last few years, that I am very proud of.
But I don't actually have a good balance between art and work, inasmuch as my art makes me happy and my work...doesn't. I have a low-level office job in a field that I'm not passionate about or well-suited for. I don't get out of my job a lot of the things that I do get out of writing -- challenge, investment, a chance to be creative, self-direction, fulfillment, purpose. I have never worked a job where I got any of those things, and it is starting to wear me down.
To be fair: "my job pays me a decent wage and gives me great health insurance but it isn't satisfying" is a privileged thing to complain about, and I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that some people handle these situations just fine, that some people don’t mind a job that demands a minimum of energy and time since that leaves them more to put into their art. You may be one of these people! I am discovering that I am not. Getting no sense of accomplishment from my job contributes negatively to my overall mental and emotional health, which is sucky all on its own, but has the additional effect of impacting my writing.
It's a tricky problem, though. I don't, at present, want to make a living off of writing (and such a career would be precarious), but my current resume and skill set doesn't qualify me for much of anything besides the work I'm already doing (thanks, screenwriting degree). Any attempt to find a job that's more fulfilling would likely involve a big investment of time, money, and/or effort in some kind of school and training, and then...I'd be in a job that demanded more from me, and even if it made me happier than my current job does, how much would that leave me to put into my writing?
I don't know if any of this has been helpful to you. It is perhaps not a clear answer to a question that felt clear when I read it but that my mind muddled up along the way. You may find that once you hit a balance between writing and working, you don't mind the day job grind in the same way I do. You may decide that you do want to pursue writing as a career. You may still be figuring out the employment situation at all and my woes may be worse than irrelevant.
But the timing of this ask is funny; I am soon going to apply to an educational program that would prepare me for a new career in a totally different field, and the thought of how this will impact my writing has very much been on my mind. In the past when I've thought about doing anything like this, that question has kept me from going forward: won't that be less of your time, less of your energy, less of you for your writing? I think this is a real concern with a basis in truth: if I get into this program I am going to have a lot less time and energy for anything outside of it, and I will need to again adjust my expectations of what my writing can look like in my circumstances. But I think that this question is also fear and perfectionism talking, using my writing as a weapon against me, and I'm tired of it.
Balance is a funny thing. I'm actually terrible at basically anything that requires balance: biking, rollerskating, gymnastics, ice skating, you name it. I don't see how anyone pulls it off. You can lean too far one way only to fall over the other way when you try to even out. You can take a turn and suddenly the road is uphill or downhill or bumpy, and whatever you were doing before to stay upright isn't cutting it. You can be going along just fine and then, for absolutely no reason, you're wobbling all over the place. But you can also do a hell of a lot of wobbling without ever falling down.
I think it's just about...paying attention to what's happening around you. Paying attention to what you're feeling and what you want. Not getting fooled by something you're supposed to want if you don't actually want it. Figuring out the things that you need, and the things that would make your life better, and the things that you'd like, and prioritize those accordingly.
I sure hope that's how it works, at least, because that's all I've got. I might royally fuck up my life in the next couple of months, but if I do, I'll adjust and keep going. It can't be any worse than fucking ice skating.
Best of luck, Anon.
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greennct · 5 years
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you in chenle’s camera lens
part 2 for the ‘chenle in your camera lens’ fansite!au, as requested by a lovely anon!! you can find part 1 here!! i actually really enjoyed writing this, even though I didn't originally plan for this to have a part two I'm actually super happy with it yay! hope you enjoy 💞💖💘
(warning!! sm is portrayed as a super nice/chill company in this au which we all know is not the case lmao so just to let everyone know before y’all get triggered this is a work of fiction!! hee hee)
3.4k words, angst-y i guess ??? but mostly just fluff!!
song rec: stop thinking (about me) by alfie templeman
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it had been about a week since chenle had given you his number and surprise surprise, you still hadn’t worked up the courage to text him
to be honest, you were way too pressured to try and find something extremely witty to text him for your opening line, so it was taking you ages to actually work up the guts to send him a message
it was only after seeing a not-so-cryptic tweet from the nct dream twitter account (ah~ waiting for a text is hard, czennies! 💚), that you felt comfortable enough to actually send anything, knowing that chenle was waiting for you to break the silence
deciding against trying to be overly funny or flirtatious, just in case you managed to embarrass yourself as usual, you instead decided to send a picture of chenle doing one of his famous meme faces. it was one you had never posted online before, and were sure he would recognise to be taken by you. you followed it with a short hi!
for all your week of deliberating over how to start the conversation, you received a reply pretty much instantaneously
it was a whole stream of compliments on your photography skills,,,, and on you in general,,,,,
highlights included: “this belongs on the cover of time magazine,” and, “you put every other photographer throughout history to shame,” and even, “i’m making one of the ugliest faces known to humanity, but somehow you’ve made me look almost as cute as you do”
the banter between the two of you struck up easily, as you replied with a series of keyboard smashes, and soon enough, the two of you were pretty much texting constantly
each day, you woke up and went to sleep with a good morning and goodnight text from chenle. he was constantly asking how your day was, and sending memes at all hours of the night. it got to the point where you had to chide the boy to go to sleep, knowing he had to wake up at a ridiculous time the next day
chenle showed such a genuine and wholehearted interest in your life, always pressing you for the tiniest details about your day, simply because he wanted to know how you were
for example, the summer flew by, and you eventually started college, texting chenle all the while. to your utter delight, he turned out to be a godsend at helping to make sure that you could properly balance your education with your duties as a fansite
there were simple yet infinitely thoughtful things he did to try and help you organise everything, such as sending a quick message telling you it wasn’t worth skipping your afternoon lecture to attend a certain schedule, because they were already running a few hours, made your life so much easier, and made you appreciate him even more
and of course throughout this time, your crush on him grew and grew: how could it not?
however, you felt incredibly awkward with your emotions. you knew that chenle must reciprocate your feelings, at least to a certain extent, but you were extremely hesitant to confess
primarily, because of how awkward it would be to do so over text, but mostly because you were incredibly conscious of both yours and his reputation. after all, you had barely escaped been skinned alive the last time chenle had expressed a mild fondness towards your photos by certain fans
the sad but straightforward truth of the matter was, that a relationship with chenle was completely hopeless. nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from letting yourself indulge in daydreams where the two of you went on an endless stream cute coffee dates, uninterrupted by any of the drama that was your reality
and so, as autumn turned to winter, you found yourself stuck in a limbo, dutifully attending nct dream events as a fansite, vying for chenle’s attention like everyone else in the crowd, but then returning home to exchange flirty text messages with him all evening
and that’s how things stayed, for a while, until suddenly you received an incredibly unusual text from him
“this is a little last minute, but the photographer for our next comeback’s jacket photoshoot just cancelled on us, but we’ve got this whole warehouse rented out for tomorrow, so i recommended you to fill in!! can you make it? x”
you kind of blinked for a few seconds, just staring at the text, disbelieving of what chenle had just asked you do to 
you then came to your senses, and quickly sent back a gushing paragraph, full of typos, to confirm that yes, you would love to take photos for nct dream’s new album
chenle immediately sent back a few details of the concept, some photos of the set and even a demo of the title track, in order to give you an idea of what was expected from you 
you realised, with a small shiver down your spine, how much the boy must truly trust you, in order for him to expose so much about the comeback, knowing full well you could post it anywhere, but somehow confident that you weren’t going to
something about that small, get significant fact,,,, made your heart melt a little more for chenle
the next day you turn up at the address chenle gave you, pretty much scared shitless as you’re driven on a golf cart past countless grey warehouses until you reach the one labelled to be owned by sm
as soon as you walk in, you’re met with the title track blaring from every. corner, and a mixture of either sleepy of hyper boys wriggling around in makeup chairs
too shy to actually go up to the members before the formal shoot, you take a quick tour around the locations that you were about to be shooting in
you were incredibly nervous to get the photos right, as you were terrified of criticism from not only the company, but also all the nctzens you knew would scrutinise every photo for any indication of you somehow damaging the dreamies’ image
you heard your name being called behind you. spinning around, you were met with a beam so bright you felt it was ridiculous that chenle was so happy so early in the morning. you tried to keep up with the bright and amiable conversation he was attempting to initiate with you, however your nerves made sure you kept spacing out and glancing around nervously
however, you were suddenly shocked back into the present when chenle placed his hands on either side of your face, cupping your cheeks gently, and leaning his head down slightly to bring himself to eye level with you, lowering his voice
“you’re going to do great, you know. i didn’t recommend you just because you were cute, you’re insanely talented as well!” after the heart-stopping compliment, chenle immediately bounced off to go and touch up his makeup, whilst you were left, standing stock still with a goofy smile on your face, feeling as though every single one of your fears had suddenly been dissolved 
before you knew it the shoot had started, and you slowly became more and more comfortable with directing the dreamies, as you realised that you were completely in your element. shouting a mixture of cues, jokes, and sly digs at the boys, you made sure to have nct dream in stitches of laughter in order to create the bright concept that their unit was known for
solo shots with the boys had you glad that the camera lens hid how flushed you were at the close proximity and casual conversation with each of the members. you were still surprised that they recognised you, some even greeting you by name before striking up an easygoing banter as you snapped away
of course, chenle seemed even more ethereal than any of the other boys to you, however you had to keep asking him to be serious, as he stuck firmly to his habit of making silly faces at the camera lens, meaning that his shoot was much longer than any of the other members’
before you knew it, you had collected all of the shots that sm wanted. they were going to edit and master them privately, but thanked you for your hard work with a large amount of praise from the staff members, and a cheque that had your eyes watering slightly as you left
“we’ll keep an eye on you, from now on.” a production manager had informed you on your way out, “you’re on our call list.”
and, to your surprise,,,,,,, you actually were
you ended becoming nct dream’s official unofficial press photographer whenever sm’s other employees were unable to make it
instead of chasing behind company cars for 1 good photo out of 100 blurry ones, you found yourself being allowed to roam freely backstage, capturing the nct members however you wished, so long as you flashed your sm employee ID
though you always made sure you were careful to stay as quiet and respectful as possible, however it wasn’t long before people started to notice your name being credited on official photos, and you were quickly seen to be legendary within the fansite community
when sm didn’t need you, and you followed nct unofficially, your friends would always tease you by oohing and aahing when you turned up, creating a space for you right at the front, as they claimed you were ‘nct dream’s favourite fansite’
it was embarrassing, but honestly,,, not nearly as bad as you thought the backlash was going to be. people commended you for your success, rather than being jealous of it, and therefore you allowed yourself to not only get used to,,,,, but also start to enjoy spending time as a press photographer
that was,,,,,,,,,,,,,, until one fateful inkigayo pre-recording
you see, spending so much more time with nct dream obviously meant that you spent so much more time with chenle
and boy, if you thought you liked him before, you were sure you were pretty much in love with him by now
effortlessly sweet, buying you an endless stream of drinks and snacks and always somehow full of energy, and up for a chat, the two of you grew closer and closer
you found yourself slipping into your daydreams much more often, as it was much easier to do whilst staring into chenle’s eyes
what’s more, chenle never stopped being flirty. admittedly, at times he was awkward and embarrassed by his bold words, however never enough to stop from showering you in compliments, and offering you his jacket at any and every opportunity
that day, you had been called in to shoot some candids of the pre-recording, and dutifully showed up at 3 in the morning, yawning as you waved your press badge at the security guard before being waved through
the hour or so you spent taking shots went by quickly, as it usually did, and you returned to the empty green room to start to pack up your camera equipment
suddenly, you heard heavy footsteps bolting into the room behind you. you turned to greet whoever had entered, when you found yourself barely inches from chenle’s face
he was ecsatic, blurting out something about how happy he was that the recording had gone so well, shimmering slightly from sweat, sunlight pouring out of his eyes
and you tried to focus on what he was saying,, but you couldn’t help yourself,,,, you leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his lips
the kiss itself only lasted a few seconds, more of a chaste peck than anything else, and you drew away quickly, shocked at your own actions
chenle started to follow your lips with his own instinctively, eye half-closed as he leaned in for a second kiss, before you let out a shocked gasp, and he opened his eyes wide in response 
you had realised what you had done
not only was this probably the most unprofessional thing you had ever done, you were pretty sure that it was illegal, since you were certain he must have signed a contract that made him swear off dating
he started into your panicked eyes, confused as he saw tears well up in them
“i'm so sorry” you whispered, hardly daring to speak. you didn’t even let him finish the “why-” that started to escape from his mouth before grabbing your camera bag and basically sprinting out of the building
once confident that you were out of reach of chenle, you sunk against a back wall, head in your hands and heart racing as you realised what you had done
not only had you kissed chenle without asking if he wanted to, a detail you didn’t even think about at the time, but gnawed at your conscience now, you had completely violated the company’s unspoken trust that you would keep everything completely platonic between yourself and the members
your stomach sinking,,,, you realised this was probably the end of you working for sm
however chenle surprised you again by not speaking a word of your kiss to anyone at the company
though you never directly asked him, ignoring all of his increasingly frantic texts, you were called by sm multiple times in the upcoming months to fill in for various photographers
however, you could not bring yourself to face chenle after the incident, and turned each and every offer down
it took a few weeks for sm to realise that you suddenly weren’t photographing nct dream anymore, as you longer turned up as a fansite either, however they never asked you for an explanation as to why
eventually, the calls from sm,,,,, and the texts from chenle,,,, just stopped
after just over a month of this radio silence, you received a call from sm, asking you to photograph red velvet instead of nct during their final practice before their comeback
though you didn’t know the group very well, you admired red velvet, and had always liked listening to their songs. therefore, you convinced yourself that since it was very unlikely that you would actually have to bump into chenle since the appointment was scheduled so late, it would be okay to take the job
besides, you were a broke college student who needed that coin to live lmao
and so, the next week you snuck into the main company building at around 11:30, following signs to open the door the practice room you had been told you were needed in,,,, but upon entering you froze in shock. this was not what you had been prepared for at all
the room did not have any members of red velvet in it, instead, it was completely empty,,,,, apart from the one person you had been trying so hard to avoid these past few months
chenle stood in the centre of the room, immediately walking over to you when he saw your figure in the doorframe
the lights were slightly dimmed, and a lone scented candle was lit next to the stereo in what looked like an attempt to set a romantic mood, along with some kind of slow, 60s love song
in other words, you were in trouble
“chenle, i-” you started to protest, to apologise, to do something to at least to try and salvage the situation, and not let your heart get broken, however you were silenced by the boy stepping forwards slightly, and taking your hand
speechless, you simply let chenle gently tug you into his chest, snaking his left arm around your waist as he swayed you gently to the rhythm
,,,,,you were incredibly confused, to say the least 
after weeks of you determinedly and successfully avoiding chenle, here you were, lured into a room with the very person you were sure sm would want to keep you away from, and, without any kind of explantation,,,,, he had started to slow dance with you
eventually, chenle murmured “why did you run away?” and you stayed silent, wondering what you were going to say. you were in such a state of shock at such a dramatic turn of events that you weren't exactly sure what you were supposed to say
“you know we can't do this, chenle,,,” you trailed off, unsure of how to handle the situation
“why not? i really like you, and i'm pretty sure you like me to, what with the whole kiss n’ all, so what’s stopping you?”
“your company, chenle!” you protested, voice still small and scared, looking up at him with watery eyes “they won’t allow it!”
chenle stopped swaying and looked into your eyes with a face filled with disbelief “you’re an idiot.”
“excuse me?!” you frowned, bewildered by his sudden change in attitude
“the company don't give a monkey’s ass, so long as i'm working!”
“b-but,, your contract,,?” you questioned
“there’s never been anything about dating in there, that’s just a stupid rumour. i'm pretty sure half the staff members have been taking bets on how long it would take us to get together, since it’s so damn obvious how much i like you!”
you literally almost slapped yourself. from all of your hours and hours spent arguing with yourself about how wrong it was to like chenle, the sudden realisation that not only were your feelings completely accepted, but also reciprocated, was almost too much for you to handle
you found yourself giggling hysterically, leaning into chenle’s chest for support as you buried your face in his t-shirt 
“i'm so stupid!” you practically wheezed, finally looking back at chenle, the laughter dying in your throat as you caught him looking at you with such tenderness, and a fondness behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite describe
“can i kiss you?” he murmured, tilting your chin upwards with his fingertips
you closed the gap between the two of you instantly, feeling chenle smile through the kiss at your eagerness 
as you sighed slightly into his lips, something told you,,,, you were going to enjoy your photography gigs at sm a lot more from now on
and now,,, here you were, about a month after that eventful evening, clicking, with shaking hands, on the latest upload to the nct dream youtube channel
it was a short video, only about three minutes long, and depicted a compilation of clips set to music
you couldn’t help but gasp as your name popped up in the first few seconds, crediting you as the person who had filmed the entire video, and barely let your breath go as the video continued
the shots showed chenle going on a series of adventures all around seoul: walking along the han river, trying on increasingly goofy outfits in a thrift shop, mucking around in convenience stores,
then, chenle eating a plethora of different meals, feeding a bite of his food multiple times to the camera jokingly
chenle holding out a bunch of flowers to the lens, with a blush that matched the bright pink roses
chenle turning his phone around, face full of laughter, to show the camera a barely blurred out photo of renjun
and finally,,,, chenle taking the camera and turning it around, so that every single person watching the video could see, that the whole time that the video had been filmed,,,,,, he had been on dates with you
a tiny handwritten note popped up at the end “please support us!! i love them a lot, & i know my czennies will as well! get ready for lots more couple content soon hehehe :) love, chenle 💚💚”
you sighed contentedly, finally loosening your tight grip on chenle’s hand as you scrolled through the comment section
there was nothing but well-wishers, shipping accounts already started, fans boasting about their predictions of the fact you two were in relationship months before the video was released
“i knew they’d love you” chenle beamed, resting his head on your shoulder as he yawned sleepily - the two of you had curled up on your dorm room couch to wait for the video to be released
you didn’t say anything, softly running your fingers through his hair instead. you didn’t need to, you knew he understood how happy you were, purely from your contented silence
after all, you had a camera, an adorable boyfriend, and a small army of people incredibly invested in your relationship - what more could you need?
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venus-says · 5 years
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Symphogear XV Episode 09
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Listen to the sound of this bird's wings flapping.
The time has come for Symphogear. AND BOOOOOI, this is probably the heaviest episode this show has ever had.
I mean, coming from last week I was expecting we would see something heavy, but I could never imagine they would go THIS heavy.
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And the worst of all is that they fake you out completely by having the episode start with Hibiki in her father's house. Like, I got to this episode with all the tension from last week, then the cold opening is very morbid, like a eulogy, so I thought "shit is about to go down". Then we come back from the opening in a whole different mood that, at first, I thought it was very odd, but soon I started thinking "okay we gonna have a flashback later, this episode will be more chill to regroup before the big events for the final 3 episodes". Then the flashback begins right after, and at that point, I stopped trying to keep myself together because I knew this was going to be a wild ride.
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Before getting to the heavy topics, first I wanna point out that I'm very glad this episode answered almost all of my question I had last time, what Miku's wearing is a Faust Robe made out of the Shénshòujìng (probably made by Vanessa/Noble Red), there's indeed a mind control device on Miku's body, and from what it seems Miku isn't completely gone yet. It was like if someone had read my post last week and said let's lay everything down so that this dumb fuck can finally understand things, and that being or not being the case I appreciate that they've done that.
The second thing I wanna point out is about Hibiki's father, I used to hate him because he was a really shitty human being, but it seems that he learned his lesson and he is trying to get better and be better and that's another thing I appreciate quite a lot, it's good to show everyone is growing and evolving not just the characters we follow. Also, her scenes with Hibiki here were quite funny, and thank go we had them to balance out all the fucked up shit that happens.
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Now *breath* I guess it's time to talk about the main event of the episode. *deep breath*
Some episodes back, I believe it was on Episode 5, I mentioned that I was VERY scared of what the "seal" could do to Tsubasa. And my worries were wrong all this time because what broke Tsubasa wasn't the seal itself, it was something even worse.
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Gosh, I don't even know where to start.
SO, Maria vs Tsubasa. I always like when these two confront each other because every time they argue they bring something new to the table, it's a way of development that benefits both of them. And I love that Maria is the one who frees Tsubasa from the seal's influence, we all know Tsubasa is the one to give Maria reality checks, and Maria is definitely the best person to bring sense back to Tsubasa's head. They're always saving each other and they continue to do this over and over and I think this is why their bond has grown so much and it's one of the reasons why I love them the way I do.
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Gen vs Fudou was a very exciting fight, funny enough I thought I was watching a shounen. XD I was at the edge of my seat, beating up my desk saying "FINISH HIM OFF GEN, YOU CAN DO IT" all the time, and when Fudou decided to go all Charizard and seismic tossed Genjuuro out of that roof I went "FUCK, we're screwed", sadly I was right.
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You know, I thought they couldn't break Tsubasa more than what they already did, they already put her through SO. MUCH. I didn't think they would go at her even harder, I didn't want to believe they would put her through more suffering. But they went there and did it.
The moment Tsubasa's father jumped to get that bullet to protect Tsubasa... I broke. I broke together with Tsubasa. I broke like I never done before for a fictional character. That was so hard to watch. And I gotta say again, props to Nana, she did an amazing in conveying all those emotions. I was feeling Tsubasa's pain like if it was my own and god how much that hurt. It may sound like I'm exaggerating, but that's exactly how I felt.
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I was devasted when Tsubasa's fight against Fudou started, this was a moment I always wanted to see, but I wasn't excited at all. What I was feeling was just anger, I've written “kill this bastard” three times in my notes while I was watching the fight. And thank god for Genjuuro to jump out in front of that sword because he's right. I never thought I would say this but, Tsubasa can't kill Fudou. If she does she won't be any better than him. And yes, this is a discourse we see in many other works of fiction and we're all tired of seeing it, but this was SO necessary here, I can't even complain about it.
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Before I sign off, of course, there's a question this episode has left open. Are Elza and Milaarc dead? Because it looks like Miku disintegrated them with that beam. I don't think Vanessa is dead because we see that scene from her point of view and it seems like just her legs were cut off, so she might be 'fine" while the other two seem to be gone for good. I'm curious about it.
Next week it seems that the moon ruins will be activated, and if shit already went down today, shit will be going to the center of the earth in the next episodes. Now let me get back to some idols so that I can let this sad dark energy leave my body. See you guys in a few hours.
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fe3h blogging 2 because the post got too long
Edelgard Claude foiling. Both see that the world is wrong and that motivates them to make it better. Claude listens to people, Edelgard listens to herself. Claude reflects and introspects, Edelgard doesn’t.
I was going to write more but I realized I was just bashing Edelgard so I stopped. Anyways, the Gatekeeper has a backstory??? a younger twin brother and they’re from the empire?? Also wow Edelgard is REALLY into you (the light in the darkness pft)
I also want to comment how the Church of Seiros unlike some other fantasy religions really is like real life historical (and current) religious organizations. There’s a mix of people from the non believers but there to help, to those that believe this is the best way to help people, to those looking for power, to the people who are there because its a way to make a living. I want to make clear though that Sothis/The Goddess is dead and she can only act a little bit through Byleth. Before the game The Goddess has NO influence on Fodlan. Anyone praying is doing nothing in terms of reaching The Goddess.
Hilda: Tell me what I’m thinking about right now.
Ferdinand: Hmm... You want a snack.
Hilda: I DO want a snacc ;) ;) ;)
supports: Ashe Dedue, Sylvain Felix, Ingrid Dimitri, Hubert Ferdinand, Petra Claude, Marianne Ignatz
3h totally fooled me with the hair colors. I’m too use to JRPGs have rainbow haircolors so I think nothing of it but in this game the white/green hair are plot significant.
Somehow related to dragon shenanigans(white/green): Sothis, Lysithea, Flayn, Edelgard, Byleth, Rhea, Seteth
Plausibly a normal color with weird undertones: Ignatz, Shamir, Petra, Felix, Lindhardt,
That inexplicably JRPG colored hair: Bernadetta, Hilda, Caspar, Marianne, Ashe, Lorenz
Ch14 of Crimson Flowers has made me unfathomably sad. Claude hold himself so tightly, closed off with high walls. He always has a face on, doesn’t break composure. But in ch 14 in the face of losing his dream you can see the cracks in walls. And Claude may be closed off but he is in no way cold hearted or uncaring, he cares so much and you see that as the Empire gains ground. That battle is one of the few glimpses of Claude. Whether he is killed or spared, both are sad. The cut scene after Claude is spared is seemingly lighthearted and a tonal contrast to the serious battle right before it. Without knowing Claude better it seems like a breather before more plot happens, but knowing Claude that scene really breaks my heart. In contrast with the moments of honesty during the battle, Claude’s social mask has snapped right back into place, hiding all of his pain. Claude’s dream meant all to him, being able to walk side by side with his friends in a new world, and that dream just took a devastating blow. Claude is by no means dishonest during that scene, but knowing how devastated he is on the inside yet forcing himself to hold it all together... He’s sad and now I’m sad.
The Insurrection of the Seven is fascinating to me. Just because people keep saying different things about it. Was the Emperor seeking to consolidate power for the throne and the nobles stopped him or where the nobles always seeking to turn the Emperor into a puppet ruler? To my limited knowledge I think for a while Emperors had been losing power. Enough so that the experiments on Edelgard and her siblings could not be stopped. He then tried to expand his power and was crushed.
Crimson Flower is quite interesting. Edelgard and Hubert are walking a fine line balancing the church and the Agarthans. The Empire appears unified but its a shell for the Agarthans and Edelgard is betting on the appearance of that shell.
Wow Dimitri is surprisingly sane and not feral in CF. Does the purple clouds in Dimitri’s death CG remind anyone else of the S support CGs?
Lysithea and Edelgard can bond over shared childhood experiences and being short
Can you imagine Claude, Hilda, and Sylvain as a squad. They would radiate such chaotic energies just standing next to each other that Nemesis would leap out of his cyberpunk containment pod and start dancing to leek spin
How is Dimitri clean shaven post timeskip?? Most people in the grips find it hard to be functional and do basic tasks and your telling me he meticulously shaves everyday? I'm calling it. Dimitri is trans and can't grow a whisker
So the brits (and w europe really) went mad for tea and got it through colonization of india. Where does fodlan get its tea?? Its mostly too cold unless you want to convince me theres an extensive breeding program for hardy cultivars somewhere. Dagda?? We know coffee is imported. hot take: the empire started a war to get more tea
I dont talk about dorothea enough. I almost chose BE just for her. She hates nobles and its great. The voice acting is top notch too. Dorothea-Ferdinand c support is memorable to me because of the voice acting. The line delivery was so good. Especially the  " I hate you " from Dorothea. She's so savage. She was the only one I considered S supporting after intsys robbed me of claude. Didn't go through with it though. It always feels wierd romancing fictional characters.I remember how P3 forced me on the harem route and wow that was uncomfortable. Dorothea is kind. I like kind people. She's so full of love (Manuela is the other character overflowing with love), and her compassion extends to everyone. She understands the grief of war. Contrast that to local manlet Caspar. Once he's decided someone is an "enemy" he stops caring. Oh Caspar... All of Dorothea's supports are so good too... Dorothea's backstory can get a little disturbing. She's 18 at the beginning of the game. She began singing with the company at 10 and gained fame at 13. What troubles me his how she talks about how after every show she was innundated with marriage proposals and such. The way she talks about it, it went on for a while, and while sure the letters and stuff could have been from other teenagers, that she was getting all this as a teenager is creepy. In addition, then she talks about the nobles fawning over her and it made my skin crawl. But the worst was  that a noble possibly her father was coming on to her . Like Dorothea, I'm with you. Let's burn down the world.  Despite the justifiable anger though, dorothea is so full of love. Until the last her heart never turns cold.
Thinking about claude and edelgard. On one hand their personalities, ideals, and ambitions complement each other. On the other hand Edelgard doesn't understand how people work and Claude is a manipulator, guarded, he never lets any one in(edited)Claude can totally read her, but Edelgard reacts poorly to criticism and dissent.... Claude has no faith. Not in his dreams and not in himself. With out a push, he's not proactive. Edelgard charges straight ahead while Claude takes the circuitous path. "Defensive" thats the word for edelgard, she so easily thinks people are out for her. Whereas claude deflects. Both are fuelled by a sense of justice.  Edelgard thinks in terms of eliminating enemies, claude thinks in terms of recruiting allies.  The point is the the tragedy that they would make great friends! But thats not happening in this universe! Because edelgard's bull headed and claude wont open up!
Watching s supports and anyone notice theres 3 variations on the ring.  There 2 silver and green ones. At first I thought small green stone was from people with common origins and big stone from noble. But I just saw saw one with a gold ring.It could be that the character is just that extra. And yeah it is gold is from Ferdinand and Lorenz.
Ferdinand  was so obnoxious at first. But hes such a good boy. He does his best. He's trying very hard. Also, existential angst is my jam.
I just remembered theres only 5 saints in the Church of Seiros and does that mean the tome of comely saints has erotica of... like... cihol??? And cethaleann????? Uuuuuuhhhhhh...I dont like my brain sometimes.
so that whole fuss that byleth's mom was rhea's daughter was because tons of "gamers" chose BE first and misinterpreted Edelgard's speculation. When in reality Jeralt was the one who Rhea gifted her crest (seiros) to, extending his lifespan. Rhea then cut out baby Byleth's heart and then replaced it with Sothis's crest stone hoping that Sothis would posses byleth. All we know of the mom is that she was a nun and died young. Flames crest stone joined to Byleth's heart (CF ending cutscene). Rhea placed Sothis' heart in baby Byleth to revive Sothis (VW ch 22 opener). She has done human experimentation on people to revive Sothis before (implication). Seiros/Rhea did so so that Sothis would posses the body (Rhea dialog consistently referring to Byleth as "Mother" or hoping that Sothis will poke through).
The only time Claude’s anger breaks through his composure is with Rhea. This is significant as Claude almost never loses his composure, and this highlights how Rhea in the only person Claude hates. Claude doesn’t hate Edelgard or Dimitri or any of the other people that may kill him, just Rhea.
question about the Black Eagles/Crimson Flower ending:  why does Byleth collapse and then Sothis' crest stone break? I mean I will give it a break since its symbolic and thematically significant and all and it was a excellent touch that Sothis' heart and Byleth's heart have literally weaved together. Is reviving Byleth Sothis' last act?? Why did Byleth have to die to begin with though? ... well maybe Byleth didn't die since they didn't have a heartbeat to begin with. So far the writing in 3H has been pretty good though there have been weak spots. I think that CF final scene was put in more because it "felt right" than because it was logical. it fits with edelgard's goals and what the route's been about. its just if you really think about it. It doesn't make sense based on what is already known. I mean crest stones could have other powers but I haven't seen that anywhere else in the game. As for the story as a whole, the main acting forces in the game are Edelgard+Empire, those who slither in the dark, and Rhea+Church. Claude also has his own ambitions, but those 3 are more deeply entwined. Each faction has its own goals and past and a good chunk of the game is figuring out what those are. Its also ironic that GD despite how Claude is not enmeshed in ... that other mess, sheds so much light on the other factions. 
The main theme is probably about Rhea since it plays a lot during Rhea scenes and the church is a central focus of the story.
the "M-metal gear?!?!?!" moment will always be hilarious for me. On par with dollar store Hitler
Why is it Jeralt's voice on the map even after he dies?
God Shattering Star:  How Many Times Do We Have to Teach You This Lesson, Old Man?  
Dawn is a recurring motif in Fire Emblem: Three Houses. “the dawn of a new age” is or such is
Claude, a child loved and lonely
i think blue lions was written first. 1 the two monthly missions that have to do with students’ families are both in BL (Ashe and Sylvain). 2 two fairly important side characters at the monastery are related to BL students (Annette and Mercedes). Chapter 3 actually provides a intro for all the lords in their respective routes. Edelgard’s scene is serious but not especially sad, instead you can feel te fire burning within Edlegard and the scene shows how she’s willing to sacrifice the lives of those under her if she believes she is doing the right thing. Claude’s is actually quite light hearted in tone after the first few lines and it highlights the mystery surrounding him and makes him seem very sketchy. Chapter 3 in Blue Lions though is really sad. Ashe my baby boy. Here there is a sense of tragedy in the post battle scene
oh there is another Claude loses his temper. Its when a bunch of thieves (badly) impersonate Almyrans and Claude is so offended they didn’t put enough effort into the act and that they’re weak.
Major Player Goals
Rhea: revive Mother
Edelgard: take down the Church and crest system
Agartha: vengeance on the Nabateans
Claude: usher in a new age of tolerance and prosperity for humanity
Dimirti: keep afloat???
CHURCH SKETCH AF. Rhea always raised the hair on the back on my neck.  I mean even in ch3 the first real mission. We're being used as a personal assassination squad because Lonato threatens Rhea's power.  and then she's like. This is a public execution to give an example of what happens when you defy the church.  and I was like !!!!!!! let's mentally/emotionally scar a bunch of teenagers into fearing the wrath of the church.  Rhea: prosecutor, defense, jury, judge
I remember ranting about revolution and society in fire emblem games before having played this one, and wow intsys made a game for me
Ignatz and Raphael. I must protect both of them. sweet sweet boys. Raphael has the biggest heart and Ignatz just wants to help. Team Protect Raphael's Heart. Raphs is pretty emotionally mature too. he gives warm fuzzy vibes. Ignatz takes on so many burdens and clams up about his own pain. He doesn't place any importance on himself. Let my boy be an artist! Raphael certainly has pain, but he doesn't want a life where that pain rules over all else. Raphael is a force of GOOD I would have love to meet Lorenz's dad. I don't have high expectations of him, but I'm curious.  we've heard so many different things about him. And he's one of the major actors of the story. But we also know so little about him.
o both Mercedes and Emile have the Lamine crest. If that came from their shared mother, why did House Martritz fall since she was heir? Possible answer sexism or finances. The other option is that both Bartels and Martritz have the Lamine bloodline. Also, Jeritza is younger than I thought he was Modern Advances in Missile System Engineering Wade and Kruger 7e 2XXX
Schöner, Alexa, and ZaiCheng Jun.  "Applications of Dymanic Systems Theory in Autonomous Bipedal Assault Units". Journal of Robotics 18.4 (2XXX): 157-170.
I think I'm hilarious. heh. Imagine though, While digging around Shambhala Claude finds these and everyone is just confused because it looks like their language???? and yet the words! they dont make sense!
I didn’t really care when hubert died in VW, but edelgard's death hit me you know. Because both claude and edelgards ambitions are to tear down the old system. and seeing edelgard in that armor. Its like the timeskip all over again. Part 2 begins and you relize how much all the characters have grown. And while you werent looking edelgard has been going through her own journey. When you fight her shes wearing armor with elements from both the flame emperor and her part 2 outfit  yeah edelgard is yikes. i agree with her goals but her disregard for yhe lives under her concerns me. And between her tendency to brute force solutions, those who slither in the dark, and the empires situation, I think she was doomed to fail from the start
When Claude ... half jokes??? that Hilda can grasp his throat, is that connected to how Fodlan's Locket (in Fodlan's Throat) is under house Goneril control?
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featuristicfilm · 5 years
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Once Upon A Time In... Hollywood review
(Contains spoilers !!!)
Once Upon A Time In Hollywood proves Tarantino is the ultimate artist.
When a film can be successfully marketed merely as a sequential product of a certain director, that’s when you know it has to be something. The ninth edition to the Tarantino’s repertoire reinforces his status as a one-of-a-kind, visionary filmmaker whose work exudes style, taste and true passion. This period piece combines history, dreams and, in a familiar Tarantino fashion, bursts of violence, to present a tale that intrigues and surprises, and ultimately lands with a bang!
Films that Tarantino brings to life seem to carry a certain energy, each unique and alive with heart. Now, me saying this while not having seen every single picture in his body of works might seem silly and diminishing of the power of this statement, yet no one can deny that Tarantino is all about the vision. A writer/director credit affirms that with this film, as Once Upon A Time In Hollywood arrives from a long time in the making, and from careful crafting that appears to have been approached with the utmost thought and dedication. It’s fitting, knowing that Hollywood for him hits close to home, as, well, it is exactly that. The vibrant locations and the scenery of 1969’s Los Angeles are visually as appealing and enticing as it gets, and I especially loved the use of rich and saturated colours, almost as if mirroring the culture of the ‘Golden Age of Hollywood’, to which this film heavily reverts to. Indeed, the western-style action, the old-school culture of the film landscape of the time is entrenched in the way characters act and behave, as well as the environments they appear in. And while many keep saying that this is how Tarantino creates his stories and builds his films’ worlds - by taking from already existing material, trialed elements and using them to serve his story, well, not everyone can even do that successfully. Besides, clichés are often over-exaggerated yet accurate representations. And if anything, referencing something in your own creative pursuits is a way to recognise and give credit. At least he definitely puts his own stamp on. It’s evident in this new instalment too. The film does rely on the ideas already laid out by the Old Hollywood format but Tarantino ultimately shines a new light on how narrative and characters can come together.
With that in mind, this story is a refreshing account of fiction-meets-reality. The general premise envisions two friends working in the entertainment business during the 60’s, a struggling actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt double Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), as they figure out how to stay relevant and keep themselves afloat. These are fleshed out characters, and their buddy relationship radiates an energy that instantly draws you in to root for them, which is all due to the stellar performances by both DiCaprio and Pitt. Tarantino has hit the nail on the head with this casting, that’s for sure. However, these characters serve more as storytelling devices, than fully realised people. Here, they are being used as models to set the scene, move the story forward. As a result, a good chunk of the movie, about two thirds of the almost three hour long film, is of expositional purpose mainly to build tension for the grand finale. And while it’s understandable why Tarantino felt the need to lay out the ground work so meticulously, some scenes just fell flat or felt unnecessary. (I caught myself fixating on anything other than the screen, like how uncomfortable the chair was, quite a few times.) Throughout and in between those slow sequences, flashes of another character - Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie), a real life person in actuality - reignite that eagerness to see how it all plays out. And by it, I mean, of course, the infamous murders of Tate and 4 other individuals inflicted on them by the Manson family in 1969. It all crashes down in the absurdly violent way by which Rick and Cliff become heroes of an alternate reality by mercilessly slaying the known accomplices. Tarantino really doesn’t hold off in showing them no remorse, and by this time the audience is fascinated and amused by this turn of events. Rightfully so, many have praised the way fantasy and imagination is used here to attempt to mediate the harsh reality it takes from and also to subvert expectations in such a daring way. A flamethrower, or a tin-can to the face to counteract the aggressors did have quite an uproar from the crowd. However, there might be some truth to others saying that the boastful need for violence for the sake of humour or satisfaction is an inconsiderate approach of such a sensitive topic. But Tarantino deliberately accentuating the violence, knowing that the audience, the ones dreadfully awaiting for what’s to come, might be shocked and relieved at the reversal, is an ability to really understand what works on a screen and what doesn’t. And all those small, almost forgotten glimpses of Tate being excited about her growing family and rising career, unaware of her terrible fate, still full of life and joy inside of her (which was the baby she was carrying) felt both sad and mournful of what should have been, and honouring and respectful enough by not being sensationalised.
In full, the film tries to balance a longing memory of the glorified haze of Hollywood attraction, depicting history and faces in a secure and safe perspective, and a shockingly horrifying reality replaced by a fairytale resolution. The scenes revolving around Rick and Cliff are about everything and anything comedy-drama style, and actually feel profound yet, unfortunately, sometimes short-lived. Margot Robbie, for what we see of her, plays Tate with a genuine, heartfelt and warm regard. Intertwining an imagined storyline with a familiar truth gave the film a unique duality which Tarantino’s vibrancy and sharp taste made into a riveting portrayal. Whatever backlash this movie received is a testament to how a bold and unwavering creative vision should be used. Once Upon A Time In Hollywood proves Tarantino is the ultimate artist because without vision, inspiration and complete belief in this project, it probably wouldn’t have even happened. Oh and also, Al Pacino is in this movie. What do you know!
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Ghost of you, 19/?
Volume: 1.
Number of parts: 19/?.
Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).
Synopsis: "He went straight to the restricted area where he had locked Colin and dismissed the guard standing there. He needed to talk with the scientist alone. It wouldn’t be nice."
A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.
“A man with outward courage dares to die; a man with inner courage dares to live.” - Lao Tzu.
CHAPTER 19:
Tegan was now standing before the sad and cold truth. He had delayed his meeting with Myrtle Appleton once again. A death in the building was a priority. They had to take down the possibility of a virus, of a possible infection. The lab was still in lockdown. If a virus had escaped, they were all screwed up. However, it was better not to think about the worst yet. Adam had been demoted. He was working in practise lab and had access to nothing really dangerous that was kept in this building. If something had been taken out of the sealed vaults, Tegan would have been told immediately and no such bad news had come to him. It was a relief not to have to deal with another potential risk of infection. He wasn’t ready to face another crisis that was as big as the noctiagus. He didn’t want his name to be associated to the death of hundred persons. They could add Adam on the list of the victims of the noctiagus but Tegan didn’t like the idea of a lie. Adam was just a kid. He certainly had parents waiting for him somewhere in the world. What would they say? How would they take the news? Tegan wasn’t a father himself so he couldn’t imagine the pain and devastation they would feel. He couldn’t tell them either that their son had committed suicide – because that was a suicide, right? They would ask questions and no one had the answers to them. No one but Adam. Adam that was now laying lifeless on the grey and cold ground of the lab. Rory had closed his eyes but Tegan had the feeling that he was looking straight at him and blaming him for his death. Because it was his fault. He hadn’t listened to his excuses and motives; he had put the blame on him for Maxence’s nearly death and demoted him. There was no way it could have been a murder. Tegan was clever enough to see that in the sad scene before his eyes. Adam had ended his life and done no mess. He created a bubble of air in the vein of his arm and when it reached his heart… Tegan swallowed. It was clean and quick, but also quite painful. “I found this next to him.” Rory was doing his usual round when he had found Adam. To him, it was clear that it was a suicide too, and the object he was holding out to Tegan was proving it: it was Adam’s professional tablet. They were all using one for their researches usually but the noctiagus had become their priority number one and all their researches had been put aside until better days came around. The neurologist took the device and unlocked it – Adam had taken down the security for them to have all access to it. The first thing that appeared on the screen was a video. A new entry to Adam’s personal log. Afraid of what he would hear, he pressed the play button. Adam Mitchell video log. Twelfth day of October 2017. Doctor Spitz. I know you won’t watch this video until you’re finally cured from the noctiagus but it’s okay. I really hope that you will make it through this virus and accomplish the great things you’re meant to. But that entry isn’t to congratulate you on your future successes. I’ve done terrible things, Doctor Spitz. I’ve betrayed your trust in me and that’s something I can never forgive myself for. One of those things was to nearly have killed you because of the Doctor Appleton. I admit it, I’ve been a victim of his methods, just like many of us here, in this lab. We were all assistants of the greatest minds in the UK and we weren’t satisfied with the little tasks they were giving us instead of the big stuff we were dreaming of. Colin offered us chances and we fell in his trap. Once we entered his cobweb, we were screwed. I happened to be the weakest member of this lot of young assistants. I wanted more and I was ready to play against the rules to get it. Naive and ambitious as I was, it was easy to manipulate me and to make me do almost anything. I’m guilty all down the line and this made me Colin’s puppet. I regret everything I did. It didn’t take long for the Doctor Smith to make me confess my crimes. I fully understood his reaction and punishment. He’s been fair to everyone in this building and would be a great leader if the offer was ever done to him. However, all what I’ve done can’t be undone and so the guilt is eaten me up to the point it has become unbearable. The Doctor Burnley can’t help me. Not anymore. I’ve gone too far by almost killing you. I would have gone to the police if it still existed but the only way to get redemption for my crimes is to die myself. I’m sorry for all the mess my death will cause. I hope you’ll all find the cure and save the world. Thank you for everything. The video ended this way but there was another one, a shorter one in which Adam was giving a list of names. It was all the names of people that had followed Colin in his plans and helped him create a mess in the whole place. Tegan would have to deal with that. But later, when Adam’s body would be taken care of, when the cure would be found. But he was gonna keep a close eye on these people, even if Colin was locked away. “Use a crate and take his body to the morgue. Put him in the cold room. I want him to be treated with respect until we can find his family. Not a word about this to anyone.” Rory gave a nod. Tegan could trust him. He would do his job with all the confidentiality and respect needed. The neurologist left the office, his guts completely knotted and his headache definitely worse than earlier. He was dreaming of a good night of sleep but that wouldn’t be before a while. He rushed to the sterile room that was keeping Myrtle Appleton prisoner. His mental image of the scientist was shattered by the actual being. He had never met her before, nor had he read her works. He knew the name but not the face but he had expected her to kinda look like Colin, almost like evil twins. But Myrtle didn’t look anything like him. Less serious, more eccentric, and she had that spark of cold intelligence in her eyes. But she looked more “human”, more manipulable than her brother. “That’s not how I imagined the great Maxence Spitz,” were her first words. It felt quite weird to be standing in front of this particular specimen, in front of the creator of the noctiagus. There was something comical to see the virus eating out half of her being when the other persisted to remain fully human. The perfect representation of the balance of things in a corrupted person. “You’re very different from your brother,” he responded calmly. “Colin, Colin, Colin,” she hummed, “Always the name. It’s always him, the genius, the man of success. Until he met you, his biggest rival. Now it sounds more like ‘the song of Maxence Spitz”, the man who ruled the world of sciences’.” “But the world will sing your name after that.” “Not in the right terms I’m afraid,” she sighed. “This was never what I wanted.” “What did you want?” “Cure the Xeroderma Pigmentosum. In the end, I just made something worse and that’s the only part of the story the world will retain.” “Not if you help us.” Myrtle had expected this answer from the great Maxence Spitz – not knowing that the man she wasn’t speaking to wasn’t Maxence at all – and it was the precise reason why she was here but she wasn’t gonna jump on this opportunity so fast. She didn’t need any of them. She just had to wait for death to come and take her. However, they needed her. Desperately. Even if they had had access to all her researches, they had codified all the information. If they didn’t find the code she had used, they wouldn’t go anywhere. “What’s to win for me?” “I don’t know. That’s up to you.” “You’re asking what I want?” She was incredulous. How was working this man? Was he dumb or something? She could have taken full advantage of him but this answer had surprised her so much that she couldn’t express a clear idea of what she wanted. Or was it the noctiagus working on her? She felt so slow suddenly. Such a shame that such a brilliant mind has to end this way, thought Tegan to himself. He was wondering if she was really thinking about a possible answer or just making him think she was. As a neurologist, he knew well the damages the noctiagus could have on a brain. The process was being slow in her case but it would reach its goal eventually. She would end up like the millions of persons outside this place. Unless she was lucky. It had been proven that the virus was touching more men than women, that women could resist it better. Once again, they were being the strongest. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists and you’re not one, am I wrong?” “No, you’re not.” “And you’ve come here to give us a hand to earn your redemption in the eyes of the world.” “If you think so.” “Why would you come here knowing that you’re gonna be arrested?” “You weren’t supposed to know I’m the one behind this whole mess.” She was playing around but Tegan wasn’t an idiot. Despite the lack of sleep, he was very attentive to the sign of fatigue doubled by the relentless attacks of the virus on her system. She had lost her balance a couple times. Just an imperceptible move of her feet had brought it to his attention. And now, she was having a solid grip on the table beside her. “The thing is, we do.” “Obviously.” She was too tired to keep standing and she nonchalantly hauled her bottom on the table to rest her legs. She leaned on her hands. She was losing ground and she understood better why Colin hated Maxence Spitz this much. This man was so clever it was annoying. He was taking all her ripostes to pieces with that odious calm. She had wanted an argument with him, something brilliant and powerful. She had to settle for this instead. She let out a deep sigh. “I want two promises.” “Sounds like something I can do.” “First, I don’t want Colin to know I’m here. Wherever he is, whatever he is doing, keep him away from here.” He would disapprove of her decision and come here to ‘save’ her if he was to learn that she was locked in there. He would also make acerbic comments on her stupidity. She didn’t need that now. Her decision was taken and irrevocable. She was collaborating with his enemies. “Will do.” “Second...” She didn’t finish her sentence. This was the hardest part of that deal. He could refuse to do this because it would be going against the moral codes, against their professional oath. However, this decision was also definitive. It was her time. “Don’t cure me. Just let me end my life here or wherever you want to. I just don’t wanna survive this.” The silence he returned in response to her second promise was eloquent. First, he was shocked. He wasn’t used to be confronted to this question. They were facing a life or death situation every day but facing a person asking you to let herself die, to do nothing to help… it was different. It was a failure to assist a person in danger. But it wasn’t the only reason. He could interpret this demand as a way to avoid the consequences of her acts. She created this mess and she wouldn’t take the full responsibility for it. It wasn’t the reason behind it but it was useless to try and tell him. He wouldn’t understand. “I can’t do that.” “I was worried you’d say that.” “What other option there was?” “Accepting the deal.” “You’re asking for mercy.” “I’m demanding the death sentence. Let me die by my own hand.” “Judge, juror and executioner. You’re picking the easy way.” “I never said I wouldn’t face the consequences of my act. The virus doesn’t kill and I have all my mental abilities. You can denounce me if you want and force me to face the consequences. You can even punish me yourself if that’s what you’re wishing for.” “What kind of man do you think I am?” A man that wouldn’t send another human being to death without a good reason. He was a man of words, a man with a consciousness and a good morale. A man who had been raised well. The decision was hard to take but he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either accepting and getting help or leaving Maxence to die. “Fine. You won’t be cured, if cure we find. What about that virus?” “Works like a cancer, spreads like AIDS.” “Sexual transmission is on the list but it’s not the only way.” “Fluids. Blood, saliva, sperm. That’s it. That’s the transmission. A simple cut on your hand and you’re screwed.” “Well, gives us a good lead.” If there was anything to add to this talk, Tegan would never know. They weren’t many to know where Myrtle Appleton was detained and this very few persons were aware that he didn’t want to be bothered. Except if there was an emergency. The presence of the Doctor Jack Harkness in his corridor was the sign of imminent troubles. What in the world was gonna fall on their heads again?
x
Rory couldn’t remember seeing this anywhere but in these dramatic movies that were always ending well for the heroes of the story: the command post had called all units to tell all the security guards that were the closest to the energetic resources’ areas that they had to run there. Troubles had been detected around here and since this place was supplying the whole CRCD with electricity, internet access and non-infected drinkable water, if something was to develop a fault, it would be the end for all of them. This whole building was protected at all times to avoid any unwanted visitor from sabotaging the generators. For the last couples of days, the security had noticed movements outside the outer wall of the Centre. They had thought it was nightwalkers but a round in daylight had shown that they were survivors looking for a new shelter, for answers, for the end of all of this. No one but the security knew about their presence and everyone had been watching their every move to make sure they weren’t dangerous. However, the fact to be ignored while they were perfectly aware that they were scrutinised was infuriating them. That was the most worrying. There was a team of a dozen persons doing rounds all day and all night and they were armed with guns and makeshift weapons. It was like watching an adaptation of The Walking Dead. Frightening. The tension was now palpable and since Allegro wasn’t there to give clear orders, Rory had temporarily been named head of the security teams. He wasn’t as good as their usual boss but he was doing his best. Nevertheless, his best wasn’t enough at the moment since they were facing one of these situations they had all prayed to never see in real life. For the last five years, they had managed to keep their generators safe and working. To save the energy, the unnecessary stuff had been deactivated. Only the labs and the personal quarters were still supplied with energy. The internet network was reserved to the labs. They had a phone network that was still working too, but almost no one to contact outside. It was just useful to communicate with people from the labs making it easier to communicate the information and reacting to emergencies. Of course, after five years, the services couldn’t be as good as they used to be at first and they had had power-cuts that never lasted long. They had become more frequent during the last few months and it was getting worrying. If it wasn’t fixed quickly, they would have to abandon the place and destroy it completely. What was inside this building must never come out of it. Today, the supply had been considerably reduced in all the building. Several dysfunctions had been detected and reports had been sent to the technicians who were taking care of the maintenance. They weren’t as many as they used to be because they were infected or preferred staying with their families when things had gone south. The few persons that were left had informed them that the malfunctions were too important to be fixed as quickly as usual. Now, the final diagnosis had fallen: the malfunctions didn’t come from the machines, it had been created by a human hand. No one from the maintenance team was responsible. A group of survivors had noticed that the area sometimes wasn’t as secured as it looked and they managed to come in and vandalise their energy resources. They hoped to get attention that way. With that major failure, the security of the place was compromised. The security teams were quickly overwhelmed by the angry survivors sneaking in and getting their revenge. The situation quickly became out of control but Rory wasn’t gonna let those troublemakers ruin all their efforts. “Call the command post! Let the Doctor Smith know that we’re launching emergency program 5!” Emergency program 5 was another one of those programs that had been set to protect the whole Centre and its workers. It was a complete lockdown of the place with the obligation for the personal to go to safety. Those people wouldn’t get in. And if they managed to, they wouldn’t be able to lay their filthy hands on their works or colleagues. Rory just hoped that there wouldn’t be too many victims of this insurrection.
x
Tegan ran to Rose’s office. The alarm was already resounding in the whole building but he knew he would find her there because she would never leave Maxence to a fate worse than the one he was facing currently. She would never accept going to safety while he was left to meet people that would kill him without a second thought. Many people were thinking that the sick persons couldn’t be cured and that it was useless to try anymore. As the nightwalkers were becoming violent – Maxence himself had been the victim of this violence – they were slaughtering them to keep themselves safe, to clean the city and to take a fresh start in a better world. However, the nightwalkers were humans and murdering them wasn’t the solution. They had to be patient, just a little bit longer and they would be cured. Tegan used the master key and got into Rose’s office. The young woman turned around surprised to hear someone coming in her second office so easily and the sight of a breathless, slipshod with a deep worried frown on his face boss had her on alert. She could hear the alarm and the automatic message saying that emergency protocol 5 was activated but she was ignoring it to continue her researches. “What’s going on?” She checked the screen of her tablet. Maxence’s vital signs were worrying but he was still alive so he wasn’t the problem. Allegro had been released from his cage a few minutes ago and was now taking a decontaminating shower. She had noticed that the electricity of the building was having some failures and the latest one wasn’t fixed yet. The second generator had taken over but it was less powerful than the main one. Tegan took a deep breath and quickly delivered his orders to Rose. “You go in the cage and pull him into a hazmat suit. You two go to the hyperbaric chamber and wait for me. I’ll lock it myself.” Her heartbeats increased at the urgency in his voice and when he opened the door to rush out to give new orders, she could hear, above the shrill sound of the alarm, voices. The security was yelling and hitting and firing and there were others screams. People screaming. Screams of rage, screams of pain. Her face went pale. With the main generator down, the outer wall was vulnerable. They were invaded. It was a wonder why it never happened before, why people never tried to get in here to get answers sooner while the town was falling into chaos. “I just gotta let you know…” Tegan walked closer to her and looked behind him to be sure they were alone. He put a hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice. Once again, he was making sure no one would hear the information he would give her. It was no good sign. “The results of the last scans…” he hesitated. “They’re not great. The attack… It… His brain has been more affected than I’ve told Liv and Clara. I’m not sure he’ll fully recover, Rose, and his pain sensors, … they’re hyper sensitive. He’s in pain. All the time.” The time for Rose to process the information, Tegan was already gone. She grabbed all the papers related to their current researches and threw them into a satchel she passed on her shoulder. She ran out of her office and went to the lockers. She pulled her own hazmat suit and picked one for Maxence. She dropped her satchel in front of the cage, came through the airlock and ran to Maxence. His inexpressive black eyes turned to her. Good. He knew she was there. “Honey, we’re having an emergency.” She cupped his cheek, ignoring the painful stab in her heart when he shuddered. “I have to take you out of here. For safety purposes.” She freed him from all the machines he was connected to and dressed him into the hazmat suit. His grunts and whines of pain were breaking her heart but she didn’t have the time to be delicate. She couldn’t hear the screams in the cage as it was perfectly soundproofed but she had the feeling that they were coming close. She dragged her husband through the airlock, got her satchel back and made her way to the hyperbaric chamber room. Maxence was weakly protesting but she was doing this for his sake. “Come on, Max. I’ve been told. I can’t know what you’re going through but please, help me on this one.” He was so vulnerable, so weak, so in pain and she was forcing him to move, to walk faster than he could. They reached the room and she sat him down on the ground just the time to unlock the chamber. She never used it before and she hadn’t studied its manual. She had it in hand now as she was trying to open it and put her husband to safety. The technology was reacting negatively to her attempts though. She grew angry and anxious as her hands were typing on the keyboard, as the screams were getting closer. The security was overwhelmed and there was no one able to stop the invaders. She had to be quick. Maxence was now lying on the ground, his painful body looking for the most comfortable way to rest. Breathing was the hardest thing at the moment. It felt like he had a huge mountain sitting on his chest, crushing him, smashing all his bones at once. The suit wasn’t helping. The plastic fabric was giving him the inner feeling that he was locked in a room closing its walls on him. Add to this that all the noises were amplified in this plastic prison and that he was being half blind and dying. It was terrifying. Just like those footsteps he heard close to him. He groaned when a foot collided with his ribs. Rose yelled something he couldn’t understand in the midst of the ringing bells of pain. The response of the attacker was as cold and clear as ice though. “He shouldn’t be allowed to live.” Maxence swallowed. If this guy was here to kill him, he better do it fast before his heart or lungs or brain stopped working. Which should be imminent. But the man was much more interested in Rose. He hadn’t seen such a beautiful woman in a while, let alone touch one so he was gonna have some fun before doing his duty. Rose fought him. She wasn’t gonna let him lay a finger on her with his dirty criminal hands. He was telling her insanities and she just wanted to puke on his face and kick his balls. She knew how to defend herself but this situation reminded her too much of her past. The panic was reaching her and all she could think of was that she was gonna be a victim. Again. And right before the eyes of her dying husband…
To be continued...
Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2019 | Tous droits réservés.
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In the next chapter:
The pain was another factor. It was the main factor. Since his brain had restarted from his cerebral attack earlier, all of his pain sensors seemed to be on fire. It was as if he had been in a car accident and all his bones were broken. He was still in the car. No, he was under this wrecked car that was crushing him under its heavy metallic and plastic carcass. When Rose has caught him earlier, when she had moved him from his bed and deprived him from air, she would have cried out if it could have been a relief instead of adding more pain to his poor shattered self. He had made no effort to move more, just let her drag his body to this room where he was now dying alone. Black dots filled his field of vision recovering the mask of opaque steam on his helmet window. It was the lack of oxygen that was killing him. That, and the fact he was fighting a virus ruining his DNA.
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ringomom · 6 years
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I’ve never done this before holy shit anyway here’s??? Reiji and Tokiya being depression friends who love each other very much. Reingo.
Think of it as uh, extended headcanon rambling,,, iim not a fiction writer lmao
Tokiya kind of hates to see Reiji and Ringo interacting. It’s just… too much at once, like staring into two suns at the same time. Like two cars about to collide but they’re going to somehow keep colliding infinitely until reality unspools and it turns into a sort of Dali-esque nightmare.
A little dramatic maybe.
“Oh Rei-chan!!~” echoes down the hall.
Tokiya shifts his back to press hard against his headboard. As if moving physically away from the sound will get it to stop.
Actually, maybe it’s more like seeing your parents kissing when you were a kid. Intrusively intimate. Tokiya is embarrassed by the thought, comparing the couple to parental figures… But he shoves that to the back of his mind to unpack at a later date because despite the warning signs of Reiji’s distant screams he’s still surprised when his senior blasts through the door with all the grace of a duck landing.
Reiji looks ragged, and he’s panting as he shoves the door closed and leans against it.
“You know you can’t hide in here.” Tokiya says from between the covers of the book he’s reading, not bothering to spare him a second glance.
“Tokkiiiiiiii” Reiji whines, slinking towards him “You’re so mean. You’re really gonna turn your old man out like this?” Dragging his feet along the carpet in a way that makes Tokiya cringe, Reiji sloppily drops to his knees at the foot of the bed, and fixes the younger with his best, most annoying pout.
Tokiya’s still reeling about ‘your old man’. Really where is this coming from.
“Tokkiiii…”
“You’re not-“ Tokiya pauses despite himself. “Get up you look ridiculous.”
Before he can open his mouth again to protest, he’s thrown off balance by a shift in the mattress, barely having the chance to steady himself. His book thunks as it hits the floor. He glares at the boy now laying on his belly at the end of the bed. He’s trying to look angry but Reiji chooses that moment to pinch one of his toes through his sock, and makes a little “beep” sound and Tokiya can’t help the warm chuckle low in his throat.
For a moment they stay like that, Reiji humming some tune as he absently fiddles with Tokiya’s toes. Tokiya studies him, he’s still a little flushed from his dramatic entrance, his hair not quite the perfect picture it usually is. Reiji’s quiet, relatively, which is weird in itself though not unheard of. It’s not like he can be at 100% all the time and they lived together long enough. Tokiya makes a point of watching out for quiet moods, it’s something he recognises in himself, the cold distant feeling of cutting yourself off. They’ve all had bad days, sad days. Even human sunshine Otoya has his moments. Reiji has a lot of them.
Looking at Reiji’s distant expression as he sings to himself, makes Tokiya wonder if he doesn’t seek him out on purpose. They’ve spent hours like this before, in intimate silence, neither having the energy to explain themselves, but the company being enough.
Tokiya hums, they’re similar in some ways.
“What did you do?” Tokiya asks softly, gently moving to sit cross-legged.
Reiji puts on looking hurt. “Why do you assume I did something huh? Tokki, you’re mean.”
A classic Reiji deflection.
“Because you’re hiding. Sit up.”
“Why tokki? So you can gaze into my eyes easier?” Reiji taunts but he lazily does as he’s told.
Tokiya rolls his eyes. “Right, so I can see your bullshit better.” He takes the soft punch the other lands on his arm.
“Language!!”
“Reiji…”
A soft sigh passes Reiji’s lips as he refuses to meet Tokiya’s eyes. He raises his hands in defeat, his head still hung low. “Alright, alright. It’s nothing. He just?…” 
Reiji makes a loud frustrated noise and flops back on the bed, kicking his legs out, passing either side of Tokiya’s head. Had he been that few inches taller his reckless kicking would have put another hole in their wall but Tokiya manages to rise above the dig. “Ringo’s perfect. He’s perfect in every way, confident, smart, kind. Baroque beautiful. Everything. And I’m…”
Reiji gestures vaguely at his whole body.
“Ah, you told Tsukimiya he’s too good for you and now he’s angry.” Tokiya summarises. Maybe they’re similar in more ways than he cares to admit. Though he’s oddly touched that his senior would come to him with his insecurity, it’s not like Tokiya’s any better with this.
“I-“ Reiji struggles with his thoughts silently for a moment and Tokiya’s fingers dance their way up Reiji’s calf, lazily drawing circles against his knee. Reiji sighs; “Yeah.”
“Hm.” Tokiya hums. “It’s not fair of you.”
Reiji goes almost completely still. “I know”
“No- Reiji look at me.” His back hits the headboard again, like he can move physically away from his own stupid, stupid words hanging in the air, knives waiting to fall.
Reiji doesn’t move.
Huffing a little, Tokiya reaches forward and pulls his senior up into a sitting position. Hands clap Reiji’s cheeks and the slight impact forces him to look at Tokiya in shock. Tokiya doesn’t let go.
“Reiji, you don’t get to decide how Tsukimiya feels. He loves you. That’s not up to you, no matter how foolish you think it is. You don’t get to choose. Understand?” He can hear how serious he sounds and maybe that’s not how he should be talking about ~feelings~ but he IS serious. He gets that Reiji is self-conscious, but. Reiji is amazing in his own right.
The smile that’s creeps on to Reiji’s face is enough to make anyone fall in love with him. It’s a rare one. Genuine. Unfiltered through personas or self-loathing. Tokiya really loves Reiji.
A jolt runs through Tokiya’s spine and his hands slap to his sides when he hears a faint sob outside the door. Quickly pushing Reiji off the bed with an undignified squawk, he’s pressing hard against the headboard now.
Reiji, to his credit, doesn’t react at all poorly to being practically launched across the room. He simply props his chin up on the bed and chuckles.
“Shut up Kotobuki.”
Reiji grins his goofy horrible grin at him. “Come in Ringo.” He hollers past Tokiya’s legs. He really is perceptive.
Ringo flies into the room the way only Ringo can, like he’s the fawning protagonist of some shojo manga, Tokiya feels like he can see rose petals whenever he looks at Ringo. Right now he even has those big fat tears gathering in his eyes.
Before Tokiya can think otherwise the question is slipping out of his mouth, “how long were you out there?”
Ringo’s tears seem to dry up immediately, still he dabs at them with a lacy handkerchief. “Well it was hard to focus after you said I was more handsome than any painting in the world, and twice as brilliant…”
Reiji remarks that he doesn’t remember saying that but Ringo continues.
“But the main thing is that you two are so damn cute!!!” He smiles warmly. “And Reiji don’t think you’re off the hook, I want a 1,000 word essay on how wonderful you are on my desk tomorrow morning, young man.”
Reiji beams. “Yes sir.” He salutes.
Yeah, the two of them are entirely too much for Tokiya.
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