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bailey-reaper · 3 years

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Hhhhh could you write a sequel to the hades fic???? it was SOO good!!!!!!

For Dear Life (Hades & Persephone AU)

Notes: (continued from here) Hello anon, I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed the Hades/Persephone fic! As I've said before, I love mythologies!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abducted / hostage situation; power imbalance; intense emotions; Tia seriously screws around with Greek mythology. Like really REALLY screws around...; I'm sorry historians (again!) and mythologists

It was impossible to say whether or not the underworld met their expectations, because such things were normally so abstract and not a subject they really thought of; so, to be suddenly confronted by the literal domain of the dead, was utterly mind-boggling.

All they really remembered, as the chariot dove deep into the bowels of the earth was the feeling of the God of the Underworld holding them close and partly shielding them with his long cloak of darkness. It had surprised them to hear a heart beating in the deity's chest – surely that was something of an oxymoron?

With a firm shake of their head, they quietly wondered why they were dwelling upon that precise detail; it seemed like such a trivial thing...

They had been escorted to a garden within the deity's palace: the plants were unusual colours and shapes, no doubt thanks to the lack of sunlight they enjoyed, but it was a soothing space nonetheless and one that helped their racing thoughts to calm. As they looked around and overhead, it struck them how easy it was to forget this was a subterranean domain given how high the vaulted cavernous ceilings were.

"It is a pleasant garden, is it not?" a familiar, but terrifying, voice remarked as the tall and imposing Lord of the Dead entered the space.

Instantly the feeling of calm abandoned them and they stood with a small yelp of shock, "........" even if they'd wanted to speak, it was as if their voice was stuck in their throat.

"...." the God's expression was momentarily odd, they might have taken it as him being wounded or even disappointed, before he cleared his throat and sat on a bench fashioned from black marble, ".... I have no intentions to harm you. It may be difficult to believe that, but it is the truth... won't you come here?" he held out a hand, "I have shown you a great deal of discourtesy thus far in failing to properly introduce myself... My rashness can only be attributed to the passion you make me feel. It is... very out of my usual character."

And it was, for the Lord of the Underworld was known among his brethren as a level-headed judge who maintained utmost composure at all times. In fact, they often described him as being 'cold as a corpse' and brutal when it came to matters of logic or strategy. Impulsiveness was an unknown concept in his mind, until now...

"...I... am fine here," they replied, settling back down in grass that appeared to be more peacock blue than green.

"... Very well," once more he wore that wounded expression, but the God seemed willing to respect their reluctance, "I am the God of the Underworld, I believe your kind call me 'Hades'."

"... Hades," yes -- that was what humans called the stern God beneath the earth, but it sounded to them as if that might not be his real name, "Is... that not your name, then?"

A smile graced and lifted his features for a moment, brightening them in an unexpected way, "You are as astute as I thought... that is correct: my 'true' name is not Hades, though, mortals may call me whatever they wish."

"Then... what is your real name?" this topic of conversation made them curious: where had the names of the Gods actually come from? Were they brought to the minds of men in a dream? Or did the Gods themselves provide false identities, if so then why?

"Mmm," he looked momentarily pensive, "That is a secret, for now... a God's true name holds great power. To entrust it to another is akin to making a vow."

Their eyes widened, "Oh... I... I see."

"You will forgive me if I do not offer up something so personal at this delicate juncture, I am aware that your presence here is entirely of my doing and that you are... unhappy about it. I will not keep it a secret any longer than I must."

"...." it made sense that a God would not trust a relative stranger with something that seemed to hold a great deal of power. They wanted to ask more about it: what did it mean to know a God's true name? What kind of 'vow' did it create? But, it seemed more prudent to leave the topic for now, "... Please won't you let me go home?" they asked, eyes pleading, "I am... flattered to have caught the eye of a God, but I am a mere mortal. I cannot see what lasting intrigue I would have to a divine being such as yourself."

The Lord of the Underworld tilted his head, "Do you think me a shallow man who saw your beautiful face and thought only of that?" he shook his head, "I appreciate that we Gods have a less than glowing image among mortals, and that we have a reputation for treating humans in a superficial manner, but, that is not why I have brought you here. I do not see you as some pretty trophy to keep until I tire of you. Though you are beautiful, yes, it is not simply your appearance that has captivated me so."

"What...?" for some reason his impassioned words made their heart thud in their chest; did he really meant to say that he, a God, had fallen in love with them?

"You possess a quality of character and strength of spirit that has quite simply dazzled me... I have watched you from afar, seen how you have helped your fellows and maintained your grace and resolve even in the face of adversity. I was blinded by more than just your looks."

They blinked a few times, going over his words again and again in muted silence. How could they respond to such a heartfelt answer? It was clear that the God of the Underworld was sincere, if nothing else-- but, this was too much to take in.

"... I'm sure it must come as a surprise to hear a God's confession, but I cannot yearn from afar any longer... that is why I have brought you here. So that I might marry you and take you for my spouse."

"This... it's... this is far more than a surprise... it's shocking. I'm a simple human, surely there are other Gods and Goddesses that are better suited to wed one such as you?"

The God chuckled, "Gods and Humans aren't so different you know... We're possessed of the same diversity of thought and feelings, the same irrational sensibilities and yearnings... it is not as if for every God there is a comparable divine partner. In fact, I find a number of my divine brethren to be a noisy, irksome lot and ill-suited to my temperament. I gladly opted to rule the Underworld for it lessens the time I have to spend with them."

".... huh?" suddenly, they couldn't help but giggle, "... Are you... saying that you view the Gods as annoying relatives?"

"...." he pursed his lips, "Well... they are."

"Oh... I had no idea... So, you came here willingly?" he nodded, "That's not what our books say: apparently you drew lots with your brothers and received the underworld having drawn the shortest straw."

"...?" he looked genuinely bemused by that account, "... I've... never heard something so ridiculous in all my life... drew lots? By the Gods, no. The last thing I would want is to rule the Gods and endure the constant politics of Mount Olympus. Truth be told, I have no idea how my brother manages it..."

Once more they were laughing, for the God of the Underworld --Hades himself-- looked utterly aghast, "Oh! But what about the sea then? Wouldn't you have preferred your brother Poseidon's domain?"

"First, Poseidon is not my brother, he was a 'brother-in-arms' who assisted me and my brother... second, the sea is not much better than Olympus given its relative proximity. I find that my brethren are far slower to make the trek down into the bowels of the earth than any other place."

"I... had no idea the Lord of the Underworld was so anti-social," they mused, smiling to themself having almost entirely lost their nervousness, "But... I suppose it makes some sense, given that your domain is that of the dead. Have you... always been like this?"

"Like what?" he cocked his head.

"... Disagreeable to spending time with other Gods."

"I suppose so," he folded his arms, as if trying to recall some divine equivalent of childhood, "There are so many irksome and tedious Gods in the world, I discovered that during the wars with the Titans."

"Oh... so those wars actually happened then? Our human books are right about that much at least?" he nodded, "So... are the myths about your brother, Zeus, true?"

"What myths about Zeus?"

"That he's the most terrible womaniser who forces himself upon anything that catches his eye?"

"What?!" he stood up, clearly flustered, "Who dares to tarnish my brother's name so?! He's not some philandering hedonist! He's a man of the utmost integrity and happily married! Not to mention his wife would punish him severely were he to hold such callous disregard for the mortals..." suddenly, he stopped his ranting and looked apologetic as he sat down, "... Forgive me, that outburst was uncalled for..."

"I'm... surprised," they said, "Because our myths suggest that you and Zeus do not get along... but you seem incredibly fond of him... oh... and what did you mean that Poseidon is not your brother? Aren't all the Gods related?"

"Of course I'm fond of him," the God said, "He's my brother... and as for your other questions.... what kind of inbred bedlam do you think the Gods live in? We are not begat as generations of mortals, we all issued forth from the black waters of Chaos..."

"But how are you and Zeus related if all Gods are not born?"

"I... was a weak little God when I emerged from the primordial darkness, in fact it was questionable whether or not I would survive. Zeus took pity on me, and shared with me his ichor.... that sustained me and breathed life into me. We are brothers who share the same blood, literally."

"Oh... wow... I had no idea..."

"Why would you? It is not as if we Gods are at pains to correct the fantasies that mortals dream up to explain the world around them," he folded his arms, "I'm... glad you seem a little less nervous in my presence."

"Ah..." they blinked, "Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot calmer."

"That's good... I hope, with time, that perhaps you will... take a liking to me."

"...." funnily enough, seeing more of the God's character had endeared him to them, "I... can't make any promises," they said, while looking down and smiling.

He seemed to pick up on that coyness, "Hmmm... that's better than an outright no. Now, I should like to show you my domain. Do you feel up to a chariot ride? I won't burst up from the earth this time and grab you..."

"In that case, yes."

#barok van zieks #Barok x Ors #alt universe #request

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consul-valerius · 3 years

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He is Your Son, After All

Chapter One // Chapter Two

Chapter Three: Entrée Damien is finally confronted with his first real obstacle: Nadia challenges each magician to conduct a personal tarot reading for her and her court. All are curious how Damien will achieve such a feat when he, by all accounts, never learned to read the cards.

Being the son of the magician who defeated a major Arcana and the former Consul of Vesuvia would have never been easy: Damien always knew this would be the case. With a family history shrouded in myth, controversy, and secrecy, he feels the need to prove himself not just to Vesuvia, but to his parents and Countess most of all. With nothing else to offer but his magic, Damien must prove to Nadia and her new court that he is worthy of being their palace magician. But why is there such urgency to do so now? And why are his parents less than eager for him to achieve these goals? Who is keeping what from who?

Content warnings and notes: general warning for descriptions of anxiety/distress + distress at one’s own body is also mentioned!

Chapter preview undercut; full chapter/fic is up on AO3 😗

“Well… that was certainly awe-inspiring,” Nadia said, a strained smile on her face. They were back in the palace salon, an excited hush filling the room as each magician regarded her intently. “It is clear I was not mistaken in who I chose to partake in these games. But that was simply your first task, my talented guests.”

Clearing her throat, she regarded each magician intensely. Donna seemed to be more agitated now. Damien raised his eyebrow, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. Surely they should be more pleased with him and his performance so far?

“Besides excitement and entertainment, a palace magician should also be able to provide more practical help. The palace has entrusted magicians of a variety of backgrounds to assist in times of need as they can provide unique help. It is for that reason that I felt it is vital that each magician give me and my court a private, three-card tarot reading to demonstrate your abilities to provide us with clarity.”

Constantine’s eyes landed on Damien as his hair quickly shifted to a green hue; his bottom lip was trembling and his gloved hands twitched in his lap. Shaking his head, Damien’s hair quickly returned to its previous blonde, but no one had missed the change.

“Consulting the Arcana has always been crucial for her excellency. Her court magician should be able to consult and interpret them with ease,” Donna joined, trying their best to mask their worry. They avoided looking at Damien entirely. “False or exaggerated readings are easy for the Countess and me to see through. Please consider this during your trial.”

“Are you evaluating us, Magician Donatello?” Constantine interjected, annoyance in his voice. Proserpina glared at him.

“I am her excellency’s advisor, yes,” Donna spoke, quirking their brow at the man. Valerius was glaring at him from over his wine glass, his grip tightening. “Is there an issue?”

“I just find it difficult to believe that the mother of one of the contestants will not favor their son,” Constantine sneered, resting his arm on his knee as he leaned forward. “No matter how wonderful that magician is.”

Before Donna could retort, Ezekiel joined in, though his tone was softer.

“I… have to agree with my colleague. It does seem unfair, not just to us, but even to Damien himself. We should not taint any of our chances with uncertainty.”

Donna was silenced. Nadia sighed, motioning for them to follow her as the two stepped aside. They whispered in fervent tones; they kept throwing glances back and forth between the magicians and Nadia’s circle. Damien bit the insides of his cheeks, trying to keep his breathing steady. He flinched as he felt Proserpina place a gentle hand over his. It wasn't quite the same as his mother's, but it was something to ground him at least. He focused on the weight of their palm, swallowing down his rising nausea. Finally, the Countess and Donna nodded seriously to one another before rejoining the group.

“Ezekiel and Constantine raise a fair point; having Donatello as an advisor in such a matter was a large oversight on my own end,” Nadia explained, her chin upturned. “To remedy this, I ask my friend, the magician Asra, to take their place. They are equally capable as Donatello is, and I trust their input just as much.”

#the arcana #the arcana (game)#the arcana fanfic #the arcana original character #nadia satrinava #asra alnazar #OG magician finally plays a more proper role in this chapter lol #fan apprentice donna #problem child damien #valerius is chilling the back so he doesn't get tagged RIP #shorter but a lot of DRAMA and TENSSIONNN #bottom writes #fanfiction

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docholligay · 4 years

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Doc Loves Watership Down

FUCK DO I LOVE WATERSHIP DOWN. I love Watership Down. I love it so very much, it is without a doubt one of my favorite books of all time. It is the book I shove into people’s hands if they haven’t read it. (speaking of @rosepetalrevolution, did you ever finish it? You have the copy that has my notes ahahah.) It’s the only book or TV series or anything I’ve considered getting a tattoo of. I have El-ahrairah and the black rabbit in a circle on my jacket. I love it so much that if I had to name my kid a “fandom name,” Hazel would be one of a very short list (I would not, children are not billboards for your fandoms).

One of the discussions I often get into is “Watership Down isn’t a children’s novel” well it did in fact win the Guardian award for children’s literature and the Carnegie medal. I would unkindly argue that dark and intense books have long been part of children’s lives: Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, Bridge to Terabithia, etc. But in the last, oh, 20 years or so, and you see this in children’s movies too, there has been a movement to take the teeth out of everything. This is not because children are incapable of grappling with painful and difficult things, but because adults cannot handle helping their children navigate fear and sadness. It vexes them. Fear and sadness in fiction helps us learn how to deal with grief and cowardice and all manner of things. MAH SOAPBOX.

I wonder if my take on children’s lit, and ability to handle such things, doesn’t have something to do with my being Jewish. White goyische kids really don’t have to stare down the barrel of life, and so their parents value them keeping their ‘innocence’ and not being upset, but , this is not really an option for Jewish kids, who learn very quickly that the world will literally murder us in a grand swatch. We read fucking Number the Stars in second grade, there was no hiding it. So forgive me if I don’t feel bad that Brandlyn cries over a dead rabbit. She’ll be fine. It’s a learning experience.

I was 6 years old when my mother first read me Watership Down. It’s so strange, I’ve read Watership Down at least 25 times over the course of my life, and it’s been a different experience as I’ve gotten older and older. I can only speak about this in broad strokes as its the non-spoilery part of the gushing, but I think it stands up to rereads, and I think there’s plenty for an older reader to pick up in it.

In the fashion of a great deal of British Literature, it’s not written in a simplistic way. In fact, I think for your average 6-8 year old, it would almost certainly have to be read TO them. I have a weird perspective on stuff, as I was a VERY advanced reader, and so I don’t always know what kids can physically read. But I think your average 10-12 year old could read it. But the beauty of it really rests within that language, within the way Adams describes things and lays out the Lapin culture for you.

For really, this is one of the great strengths of the book: Rabbit life and culture is very different from human life and culture, and Adams does not shy away from that. The culture is incredibly well thought out, the myths are satisfying, and the motivations that drive them are utterly alien to our own. Adams writes about the rabbits and their culture in a way that is never sentimental, and always unblinking. Some people, I think, don’t connect with this. They’re much more used to what I might call a “disney-style” look at animals, where they are essentially humans with fur. Adams does not indulge in this, even slightly.

If you appreciate the massive world building of Lord of the Rings, you will appreciate Watership Down.

There’s also a real balance between the strengths of the rabbits, as well. Physical toughness is not devalued, it has its place. Cleverness has its place. Storytelling has its place. Literal prescience sometimes is not the most useful card in the hand. They all take their place and their part over the course of the novel. Everyone has a use in this, and only with all of them can they make it to where they need to go.

Ultimately, it’s a story of survival, and of dedication, and of the will to keep going. It’s a story about being clever and full of tricks, and outwitting your enemy. It’s about man, in parts, but ultimately its about what it means to be a rabbit, about the making of a hero. It’s about overcoming horrors and struggle in order to make something for yourself, and I think its a terribly strong novel. Right at the top of my list.

Spoilery under the cut

There’s a quote from a magazine or newspaper that says something to the effect of “If there is no room for Watership Down among children’s literature, then children’s literature is dead” and that’s basically my spicy take on the issue. Watership Down affected me more than any single book I read as a child, I think. So much of what I carried through into adulthood, so much of how I see myself and my place in the world, comes from this book.

And how do you not love a book that takes the destruction of the warren, the killing of so many rabbits, and instead of doing the weak thing and having it be all about how some farmer or whatever the fuck ever hated the rabbits, it comes down to “We were in their way. They killed us to suit themselves.” It’s a greater accusation of human nature than most things would dare to me. It’s brilliant in the way it conceives of humanity up against rabbitkind, not even so much as enemies, but creatures living in contest with each other.

When I was, oh god, probably in high school, I reread the book, and I saw it as an inherently Jewish book, about having to outwit all those who would try to kill you, about having to create your own home. Years later, I read a really good article from Rachel Kadish, who writes, just, great Jewish books, and she said she had the same experience, but she was smarter than me, and pointed out that so many people see their own journey in Watership Down, and that’s part of the genius of it. SO many people can read the story of their own heritage and culture onto that, or their own personal lives, and I think this is why it endures so fiercely. It connects to us all.

Much has been made of the fact that the female rabbits are only picked up for breeding purposes, and that’s a fine and fair criticism. But I am not of the mind to throw the baby out with the bathwater, and I think that rabbit culture is different enough from our own that for me as a kid, it didn’t bother me. If anything, it’s a fantastic point to introduce one’s children to the concept of ‘fix-it fic’ and ask them to imagine female rabbits, and what they might do, and how they might contribute beyond digging the dens and having children. But I am a fan of acknowledging when something doesn’t work for one within a story and fixing it yourself, or talking about it, versus simply 86ing it, if there are things one determines to be worth saving. I can’t live anyone’s life for them though.

One of the most important things to me about the book is that it ends with Hazel’s death after a relatively long and happy life. That is happily ever after, in the only real way it ever comes, and I don’t think many children’s books entrust children to be capable of learning that. And it’s not traumatic, Hazel literally ends up in the Owsla for El-ahrairah. It IS the happy ending, and it’s a good lesson for life in general, that to die fulfilled is a wonderful aspiration indeed.

#Holligay loves reading #Holligay is 34: The celebration #Doc Reads

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marshmallowgoop · 5 years

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Satsuki meta anon here again, apologies, but I was reading some meta that you wrote surrounding Soichiro/Isshin and his relatively necessity to abandon both his daughters, and wanted to contribute my own thoughts on the matter, specifically around the matter of difference of the nature of how alone both of them are. You nailed it completely with Ryuko. Isshin left Ryuko alone, wounded by his severance of their closeness in her early years and making it nearly impossible to bond with others. But-

-my reading of Satsuki’s situation is one of equal isolation, if of a different kind. Soichiro introduced her to a world where she can’t even trust her own mother, usually one of the, if not the most, strongest bonds a child could have at that age. Coupled with the fact that she was likely taught early on that being a child of a family with the wealth and power meant that people would try and use her for a piece of that, and you have a recipe for a grieving child incapable of trust without major investments of time and effort and frankly, some testing.

Soroi is in the employ of the family, paid by the family to serve Satsuki. In the beginning, while she accepted his attempts to comfort her via tea and an introduction of one of her closest friends, its very likely that she didn’t trust him right away even if she desperately wanted to bc of how closely money could play a part in that kind of trust. Yes Soichiro asked Soroi to look after her, but is that something he could have easily conveyed to her at that junction and have her believe it? I think the trust they attained by the time Satsuki went to middle school was very hard earned on Soroi’s part.

When it comes to Nonon, the light novel confirms that she didn’t find Satsuki interesting until she was very deeply troubled, a change that Satsuki very likely noticed the difference in her interest beyond that of two children of powerful families associating together. They may have been friends since preschool, but arguably Satsuki did not trust her until Nonon followed her away from a school that suited Nonon’s tastes and into a rougher one. Iori likely suffered from being placed in a similar boat as Soroi, not to be trusted for the sake of his uncle’s employment until proof otherwise (obviously earned as well, considering just how central Iori was to her plans and inner circle).

While Ryuko was utterly alone because of a broken ability to bond from separation anxiety turned to abandonment issues, Satsuki found herself alone among others who might very well sell her out for power or money, regardless of their true intentions. Both are very isolating situations. And I’d argue that trusting people with plans and secrets and perhaps your life are markedly different than fully entrusting your heart to them, which has been played up by the anime as a large difference between Ryuko and Satsuki. Where Ryuko opens her heart to Mako and Senketsu, Satsuki’s heart remains closed still until far later.

In fact, because of this, Ragyo saying ‘give your heart over to me’ (Netflix subs, I think I’ve seen it translated as ‘entrust your heart to me’ as well) has always stood out to me as understanding Satsuki doesn’t trust like that, which is what separates her from Nui and Rei.

Apologies for the length of this, and that I keep doing this your inbox, but this interpretation has been sitting inside of me since 2014.

Oh my goodness, Anon!

I hope this doesn’t come off wrong, but I think you really ought to be posting these analyses under your own name. You deserve credit for your excellent work! As much as I’m thrilled that someone would want to discuss these topics at such length with me—seriously, you do not have to apologize at all for engaging with my content so much because that is literally my goal—I feel that you should also be getting recognition for what you do. I know how much time and effort goes into writing stuff like this.

Of course, I do understand that there are valid reasons to wish to be anonymous. I just want to say that these are good, detailed posts that could stand very well on their own, without any input from me.

Regarding my input here, these asks remind me of a line from “KILL la KILL Digest -Naked Memories by Aikuro Mikisugi-,” a quick recap “episode” that was included as a DVD/Blu-ray extra. Narrated by Aikuro, the short briefly explains the entire plot of Kill la Kill and then sets up the OVA with its final lines: “As for Satsuki Kiryuin, who led such an intense life ever since she could remember, totally alone… What kind of clothes will she choose to wear from now on? That’s the one thing that intrigues me.”

As you might expect, I always disagreed with the sentiment of Satsuki being “totally alone.” In the tags of one post, I even wrote, in response, “Nah man you’re thinking of Ryuko” and, “Satsuki had Soroi and Shiro and her Elite Four.” As I argued in the essay that you’re probably referring to, Isshin/Soichiro left Ryuko alone—and drj2008 even opened me up to the idea that he perhaps very purposely created and utilized Ryuko’s loneliness so that she would be so desperate for love that she’d bond more easily with Senketsu—but Isshin/Soichiro did at least assure that Satsuki would always have someone by her side when he told Soroi to look after her.

And I think that’s the key point of difference here. I’d never before considered that Soroi would need to gain Satsuki’s trust because I assumed he had it from the very start. My interpretation was that Soroi had to be a dear, close friend of Soichiro for Soichiro to ever ask him to look after Satsuki, and Satsuki—who adored her father, arguably to a troubling degree—wouldn’t question her father’s judgment. From the moment Soroi and Satsuki met, I believed that she would know, just by understanding Soroi’s relation to her father, that Soroi was someone to be trusted.

But I see now that my reading makes a lot of assumptions. Who knows when exactly Soroi told Satsuki that Soichiro had asked him to look after her? Satsuki might have been informed that Soroi was her father’s choice in some way (which is… actually quite curious, honestly), and Soroi might have told her that he knew everything early on, but you’re right—we don’t really know. I think your reading is very fair.

Concerning Nonon, I agree completely. I found Nonon’s part in the light novel to be absolutely tragic. Talking about the story, I once said, “It just shows how Satsuki did not trust Nonon at all.” Nonon was head-over-heels infatuated with Satsuki, but Satsuki didn’t even bother to tell Nonon when she was moving schools. That’s the exact opposite of trust.

I swear I don’t normally talk about my fanfiction in my essays as much as I have been in these responses, but I explored Satsuki and Nonon’s dynamic in a short Satsunon Roman Empire AU. In my piece, Nonon learns that Satsuki is going away by hearing some chatter, and to prove to Satsuki that she’s worth trusting, she runs to Satsuki before Satsuki leaves, declaring that she’s coming with no matter what. At the end of the fic—and this is the relevant part here—Satsuki meets with Nonon again after the world has been saved, and Satsuki finally opens her heart up, noting that she wants Nonon by her side, as a friend and equal, and she’s done with being treated as a goddess to be worshipped.

And I think that’s a big thing you’re touching on here, Anon. Satsuki may have had all these people around her, but many of them considered her to be something more than human. And that is lonely. It’s difficult to reveal your insecurities and doubts and fears to someone who sees you as a god. After all, they’re probably not going to listen; they think you’re “above” all that. Satsuki was very much isolated, just like Ryuko.

However, I still disagree with Aikuro’s assertion that Satsuki was “totally alone,” mainly due to Soroi. Regardless of how long Satsuki took to open up to Soroi, I think she most certainly had trusted him with her heart at least by the events of the series. The moment where the two converse about Soroi’s tea in episode 17 is probably the most telling example within the show itself; Satsuki smiles genuinely for Soroi and even reveals her hidden emotions, readily admitting that she may have been more compassionate in the past.

I can’t definitively say how much Satsuki let Shiro or the Elite Four in, but Soroi? There is complete and total trust here. And while I dislike comparing Soroi to Senketsu because I feel this too easily lends itself to the interpretation that Senketsu is a father figure to Ryuko (which is my absolute least favorite reading of Kill la Kill and one that I consider to be a complete and total misreading of the text #PleaseStopSenketsuIsRyuko’sDadTheories2k19), I do have to admit that Soroi is, for the majority of the anime, the one person whom Satsuki seems to truly be herself with, just as Senketsu is for Ryuko.

Concerning the episode 17 scene mentioned above, I think it’s also pretty telling that Satsuki’s moment with Soroi occurs just after an intimate conversation between Ryuko and Senketsu that the script even emphasizes as a heart-to-heart that Ryuko deliberately wanted to have with Senketsu and Senketsu alone. Sure, I’ve argued in the past that the real connection between the scenes comes from Ryuko’s later chat with Aikuro and the fact that both Aikuro and Satsuki are discussing Soichiro/Isshin, but it’s also true that both Ryuko and Satsuki have very vulnerable, humanizing moments here. Soroi knows Satsuki’s heart, and she reveals it to him, just as Ryuko (quite literally!) shares her heart with Senketsu.

Of course, I think it’s clear that Ryuko’s relationship with Senketsu is one among peers while Soroi takes on a fatherly role for Satsuki in the place of Soichiro, but Soroi is still someone whom Satsuki trusts with her whole heart and soul. As pointed out, it may very well be true that Satsuki didn’t have that kind of trust in Soroi immediately, but I figure it can’t have taken too terribly long for the relationship between them to become close. After all, as noted in the aforementioned episode 17 scene, even young Satsuki smiled for Soroi when she had stopped smiling at school. Satsuki wasn’t being genuine, yes, but she was still breaking her hard guise for Soroi, and 18-year-old Satsuki is even surprised that she wasn’t honest back then, implying that she feels they’ve been as close as they are since practically the beginning.

I know this got terribly long, but I don’t at all disagree that Satsuki had also been subjected to an isolating situation. It is lonesome to feel, as outlined in an early advertisement introducing Satsuki’s character, that “humans are clothes-wearing pigs” whom she must “dominate,” “rule over,” and “destroy,” all while “relying on no one.” It is awful to believe that you have to do everything all alone, without sharing your true self with anyone.

And it’s sad, too! Satsuki’s struggles to truly trust others lead her to inadvertently hurt the people she cares about, and there’s something especially tragic about how Satsuki used and manipulated her own sister—whom Satsuki was fighting for all along!—rather than tell the girl the truth and trust her. As I’ve written in the past, “While Satsuki is not truly against Ryuko, her plan prevents them from being close. The thought of Satsuki fills Ryuko with hatred… when they could have been allies and friends. Satsuki’s tired, sad frown as Ryuko returns to normal [after going berserk in episode 12], juxtaposed with the Mankanshoku family’s shock and Nui’s bemusement, does well in hinting that maybe Satsuki wishes she had Mako’s power herself… and she’s sorry that she doesn’t.”

But more than all this, even Ryuko points out how alone Satsuki is after fighting Satsuki to a draw in episode 15. Ryuko only gets as far as she does by putting her complete and utter faith in Senketsu—and notably here, she follows through with his strategy even without knowing exactly what he intends to do—and she recognizes that Satsuki… doesn’t bond like that.

In pushing a point like this, I think the show definitely wants viewers to notice that Satsuki is stuck in a hard, isolating situation where she feels she can’t entrust her heart to anyone.

But I think the show also wants viewers to notice that Satsuki is more than capable of loving and trusting in the same way that Ryuko does. Ryuko doesn’t have a clue about someone like Soroi when she accuses Satsuki of being by herself, and as I’ve emphasized all throughout this monster of a post, I wholeheartedly believe that at least Soroi had fully earned Satsuki’s trust, even if it took a moment. Satsuki just about always had someone she felt safe with, whereas Ryuko… lost all that when her father abandoned her and didn’t find it again until she met the Mankanshokus and Senketsu. There’s a reason that one of Ryuko’s defining features is her loneliness, pointed out in her character introduction with the line, “Ever since I could remember, I was alone,” in her (and Senketsu’s) theme song “Before my body is dry” with lines like, “But I’m all alone,” and, “Don’t wanna be all alone,” in her fantasy world in episodes 20-21, and even by the cast, such as when the Mankanshokus note that Ryuko has to be super lonely to talk to her clothes or when even Ragyo tells Satsuki to go join her “lonely little sister” in death.

Ryuko gets a lot of heat for not being as strong as Satsuki upon learning her true origins, but I argue that you can’t really blame her. Even if Satsuki closed off her heart to most people, she undoubtedly grew up with a support system that Ryuko did not have until practically adulthood. Satsuki manages to keep her head up and carry on not only because of her immeasurable resolve and ambition, but also because she has a lifetime of love and support. Satsuki is not as alone as Ryuko claims (and I’d really like the Satsuki-centric Kill la Kill the Game: IF to elaborate on Ryuko understanding as much), and I feel that Soroi is genuinely an unsung hero of Kill la Kill. Could Satsuki have been nearly as strong without his influence?

I guess this is maybe a bit off topic, though.

In any case, I definitely agree that Satsuki struggled to open her heart to others, and I definitely agree that this is a hard, sad, awful place to be in. Part of what makes Satsuki’s team-up with Senketsu near the end of the series so sweet to me is that it is here that Satsuki really begins to open up. She doesn’t look down on Senketsu, she acknowledges his feelings, and in a cut moment from the script, she even outright tells him to wear her, thereby fully and completely trusting him to work with her and save Ryuko. Senketsu noting that his and Satsuki’s “hearts are as one” in episode 21 is one of the most heartwarming things in the entire anime when you consider everything that Satsuki has gone through. She’s been afraid to trust and afraid to show her true self to anyone, and yet… to save her sister, she opens up her heart to someone she had once considered evil and incapable of love.

And after this? Satsuki, despite saying in her introduction that she will be “bowing down to no one,” bows down to Ryuko.

And she smiles openly.

She laughs.

Satsuki was absolutely stuck in this lonesome, isolating position. But just like Ryuko, she gets out of it—and just like Ryuko, it’s so incredibly, incredibly sweet that she does.

#kill la kill #satsuki kiryuin #mitsuzo soroi #ryuko matoi #isshin matoi #soichiro kiryuin #senketsu #Anonymous #replies #ramblings #klk meta #gifs i made #whoops sorry this got way more out of hand than i expected ^^;#also dang i never realized how many 's'-names are in this show

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thefinalcinderella · 7 years

Text

DIVE!! Book 3 Chapter 4-NEXT STAGE COMING

This translation isn’t dead

Fun fact: the title was misspelled with “comming” in the book.

Full list of translations here

Previously on DIVE!!: Youichi gets flowers.

As it turned out, Youichi skipped practice for only one week, not because his headache was completely cured, not because Tomoki gave him moth orchids, not even because the fortunes of Leos had sharply increased.

“You probably have your own plans for yourself. But, stop here.”

The morning on the day when it had been a week since he first started skipping, Keisuke finally got impatient.

Youichi thought that somewhere in his head, he had been waiting for this day. Will he explode, or will he guilt-trip me by crying? But Keisuke spoke as the head coach of the MDC to the last, starting off with a request.

“From my standpoint, I cannot overlook you skipping practice any longer. You don’t even know how out of shape you will be if you neglect muscle training for even one day, and how much time you will need to recover it. Besides, it is now the time when you must adjust for your next competition.”

“Next competition?”

“The JASF has invited four divers to the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition that will take place in November. There was an official announcement yesterday.”

Keisuke and Youichi watched each other’s expressions over the breakfast table.

Keisuke still hadn’t dealt all of his cards yet. Having that hunch, Youichi waited for him to continue without changing his expression.

“So…”

Just as he thought, Keisuke turned over his next card.

“So, based on the results of the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition, the JASF plans to publicize yours and Teramoto Kenichirou’s Olympic representative decisions after the competition.”

“Based on the results of the competition? How the…I still haven’t done it yet, so there’s no way they can know my results, right?”

“Oh, they don’t know. But they can predict them. President Maebara judged that you can do it. This time, the four Chinese divers that Coach Sun is bringing along are still young rookies, so Teramoto’s certain to win the championship. Now that Kaneda and Kurauchi are out, it would be hard to threaten your second place unless there was a very large upset. Even if you did make a mistake, you can remain at third or fourth place. After that there is only the hope that your career and future prospects will carry you through.”

Keisuke’s tone could be taken as irresponsible, and he pinched the wrinkles between his brows with his fingertips.

“What…”

Ever since he had been informed of the representative decision, something cold had been building up within Youichi. It was like ice, like glass, freezing up a part of him again.

One could not simply think that adults were filthy and children were pure. Up to now he had participated in various diving events, and Youichi had been made aware many times of how adults operated politically, how they worried about their appearances in society and conducted themselves cunningly, and how they used random stopgaps as soon as they thought of them. That might be what it meant to live as a real human being, and even Youichi flew off the stage that they had prepared. But…

“What if I lose? If I lose to a Japanese diver other than Teramoto-san, then what would happen to my right to represent at the Olympics?”

Keisuke’s fingers, still pinching his brow, stiffened to Youichi’s sharp gaze.

“Your selection has been decided. The problem for the JASF is when and how to announce it smoothly. Because there were no formal qualifying trials this time, honestly, the timing of the announcement was difficult. Then Coach Sun suggested a good time would be after the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition.”

“So, what if I lost the competition?”

“Therefore, your selection has already been decided.”

The intensity of their locked gazes grew.

“Even if a Japanese diver other than Teramoto beat you at the competition, it is obvious from your overall results up until now that you are better. It is not difficult to infer that you were nominated based on your career, as long as you won within six places.”

“What if I couldn’t win? What if I keep messing up there? Are they still going to push through my selection? What are the other divers at the competition for?”

His voice cracked from being overly agitated. The water in his glass shook, and when he looked he found that it was his own arms that were shaking the table. I want you to race to the top in that usual cool way of yours, he remembered Reiji saying. I came back to dive with you again, he remembered Shibuki saying. He remembered the moth orchids that Tomoki gave him—

“So, shouldn’t they have used that Sino-Japanese Goodwil Competition as the Olympic qualifying trials instead?” Youichi practically gasped out, and Keisuke tilted his head back, then slowly shook his head.

“You might also make a big impression, but you don’t know what will happen at a diving competition. The favorite to win might fall all the way to the bottom, and a no-name newcomer might sweep first place. President Maebara, who is cautious for the sake of winning medals, does not want to take the risk of deciding on the representatives in just one meet…probably. Truthfully, I also don’t know what the organization is doing.”

He sighed, looking tired, but then continued talking as though he was rousing himself up.

“There is just one thing that I know for sure. You…Fujitani Youichi, will never mess up at an important competition.”

Keisuke steadied Youichi’s wobbling focus.

“How do you know that?”

“Your faultless, steady performances. It is your greatest weapon, after all.”

He wasn’t being praised. Those words were by no means compliments. Youichi knew that Keisuke preferred Okitsu Shibuki-style dives, where the soul shone in their wildness, fully exposed, rather than stable dives. But, he still only got the sense that his father was entrusting something to his “faultless, steady performances.”

“If you fully display that weapon, you will win the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition and go to Sydney without a doubt. The survival of the MDC is riding on your participation in the Olympics. The futures of the little divers toddling around the poolside are at stake.”

Before his father who was only protecting one thing from only one angle, Youichi said, “Understood,” while enduring the waves of headache pain that had been gradually pressing onto him.

Understood. I had understood that for a long time. That’s why even when I’m talking about whatever, I’ll still return to practice in the end. Even if I’m not fully satisfied with the selection of the representatives, there’s nothing more to dig up, right…?

Thus, the curtain closed on the modest rebellion, and after school on that day, Youichi went to the Sakuragi High School diving club and Tatsumi’s swimming pool. Youichi, who hadn’t shown up once since the practice spot was moved to Tatsumi’s indoor pool after Sakuragi’s outdoor pool closed, had arrived at Tatsumi for the first time since July’s Asia Joint Training Camp qualifying trials almost a month ago.

He had a sullen-looking face as he walked towards the poolside, but right then, he felt like he had betrayed his body, which had refused to practice so much, too easily.

He breathed in the smell of the water for the first time in a long while.

The special, steamy chemical odor peculiar to indoor pools.

Just as Shibuki, raised at the sea, flourished in the scent of salt water, for Youichi, raised at the pool, the scent of his hometown was the artificial chemical odor. His whole body lost its stability after his long absence, and his skin buzzed with the desire to feel the familiar sensation of water. Youichi, his heart lifted like a traveler who discovered an oasis in the desert under a blazing hot sun, swam a few laps in the main pool to cooldown so he wouldn’t risk the danger of standing on the diving platform in that excited state. Then he began his regular practice.

In addition to belonging to the MDC, Youichi was also part of the Sakuragi High School diving club. Usually, he practiced at the pool with the diving club, and did dryland training with the MDC. There were those who suspected that having his father as a coach was hard to deal with, but Youichi simply doubted Keisuke’s coaching. Keisuke, who always said that the most important thing was spirit, turned all failures and setbacks into issues of feelings. Coach Abe of the diving club was still young, and she just said whatever was in the manual, but Youichi chose her bias- and compulsion-free coaching.

On this day also, he performed warm-up exercises according to Coach Abe’s instructions, and when they finished thorough flexibility exercises in pairs, Youichi performed “starting entries” by the poolside several times, before finally climbing the steps of the diving tower.

For the first time in a long time, he looked up at the concrete dragon that was his natural enemy, as well as old friend. From overhead illuminated by the ceiling lights, Tomoki, Reiji and the others had already begun to dive, but it was still too early to join that line.

First, from the three-meter springboard.

Next was the five-meter platform.

Then it was the seven-meter.

And then finally, the ten-meter.

Youichi diligently followed that sequence. That was how much he carefully, steadily ascertained his own condition. Keisuke often said things like, “Be like a bird” and “Dance with the soul,” but if a good performance could be done with such things, nobody would go to practice everyday.

Diving was a precise collaboration between the mind and body. The chest muscles. The springs of the feet. The sharpness of the rotations. The rhythm that controlled the movements from takeoff to entry. They changed everyday as if they were living creatures, disorienting Youichi. When those hard-to-deal-with creatures were bent to his force of will, when he was able to accomplish a performance where everything was perfectly harmonized, he was able to get intoxicated from the ecstasy of the victory that controlled him. It was somewhat similar to the piano tuner tuning the sound of the piano and bringing about a beautiful harmony.

However, this day was a series of dissonances. His mind and body were out of sync, and nothing moved according to his directions. His body grew dull over that one-week break, and he couldn’t prevent the mistakes that he could usually prevent with his strength. The timings of his entries were off, as though his very diving intuition had gone completely out of whack.

Don’t get flustered. You’ll destroy yourself if you do that here. Youichi told himself those things while trying twenty, thirty basic dives, but his intuition never returned, and in the end failed terribly as he violently hit the water.

A shock like lightning ran through his body, numbing him at first, then transforming into pain.

It had been a long time since he had felt this pain—.

While coughing out the water that flowed to the back of his throat, Youichi dragged his confused body onto the poolside, pushing his red-stained body up from the water.

“I never thought that even Fujitani-kun could get struck by the water.”

As he laid completely exhausted on the poolside, Coach Abe came over, looking like she just saw a monkey fall from a tree. (1)

“When I was struck by the water for the first time, I thought about quitting diving, but even now I still think that, the moment I was struck by the water.”

Coach Abe smiled as Youichi grumbled.

“Everyone is like that, only at that moment. But, do you want to think about the reasons for your failure in a constructive way?”

“The rhythm of my takeoff was bad. Because my jump was messed up, I felt like that had an impact on my rotations and entry.”

“That’s the correct answer. But, the normal Fujitani-kun would have been able to fix the jump in midair, even if it was messed up…the cost of one week was too much after all. Well, let’s get you back to form slowly.”

As Coach Abe left, Youichi’s eyes suddenly went to the opposite side of the pool, meeting the eyes of Keisuke, who had his whistle hanging from his neck. Despite Youichi returning to practice like he wanted, he had a bitter look on his face, perhaps because he saw his earlier failure. He might have been thinking that that happened because he hadn’t been thinking like a bird enough, or that his soul wasn’t struggling, or something like that…

Youichi exhaled loudly, his eyes diverting from Keisuke to roam over the pool.

And for the first time, he noticed that Shibuki and Asaki Kayoko weren’t anywhere to be found.

“Oh, Shibuki went with Coach Asaki to do electrotherapy for his back today, and then he’s going to ballet lessons.” Ooshima, Shibuki’s roommate, said that immediately when Youichi asked for Shibuki’s whereabouts during break time.

“What, ballet lessons?”

Youichi was hooked, and was on the verge of letting him going on, but a strange feeling was left behind in his ear, and he was a little late to being surprised.

“Ballet…like ‘un, deux, trois’ ballet?”

“Ah, that’s right. Not the ‘serve, receive, attack’ volleyball. (2) Well, of course he’s still only in the beginner’s class.”

“But why…is he going to be a ballerina?”

“No, you dummy. He’s just incorporating it as a part of training.”

“Oh.”

Now that he said it, that was probably the case.

Although it was not heard of much in Japan, all Russian divers learned ballet from childhood, and even the Chinese have actively taken bar lessons and the such. In the United States, there were also diving clubs that include classical ballet into practice every day. Ballet lessons were effective for improving balance, toe extension, instantaneous muscle usage, and other skills when in midair, as well as useful for cultivating the delicate expressiveness of the fingers.

“But, even so…”

That Okitsu Shibuki was doing classical ballet!

Won’t that be like an elephant doing tap dance, a tiger playing the ocarina, or an orangutan learning to use natural dyes?

“Of course, it was Coach Asaki who suggested it, and thought that Shibuki would hate it. But surprisingly, he easily agreed to it.”

As Ooshima said that, he placed his hand on Youichi’s shoulder. “Your body’s a bit cold,” he said, and prompted him to go to the Jacuzzi baths.

“Oh, now he looks like he’s been put through the wringer and he still looks dejected at every lesson, but Coach Asaki is enthusiastic. Because he can’t do new dives with that back of his, he has to make a painful plan to strengthen his expressiveness and polish the skills that he already has.”

When Ooshima opened the door to the bubble baths, the elementary schoolers who were crammed in the tubs during their break all pointed at Youichi and shouted, “It’s Fujitani Youichi!” “It’s the Olympic athlete!” It looked the number of applicants who wished to join had really increased, as his eyes rested on several unfamiliar faces.

“He’s not a panda! Hey, get back to practice now!”

The elementary schoolers scattered in a flash at Ooshima’s scolding, and the two of them submerged themselves into the hot bath, shoulder to shoulder.

“So really, Coach Asaki and Shibuki are doing very well. But honestly, I’d love to see what’ll happen when the art of ballet is added to Shibuki’s dynamism. I’m looking forward to the Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition in November.”

“The Sino-Japanese Goodwill Competition? Is he going to participate in it?”

“Ah, yes.”

“But, that competition is…”

That competition was for Teramoto Kenichirou and Youichi. No matter how much effort he put forth there, the right to represent at the Olympics will never come around to Shibuki.

“I know what you want to say.”

Hot water flew from Ooshima’s fingers onto Youichi’s bewildered face.

“Even Shibuki knows that. Tomo and Reiji are also aware of that, and are willing to go to that competition.”

“Aren’t they…frustrated?”

“It’s because they are frustrated that they are going. At the competition, they want to show off their strengths in front of those self-important blockheads from the JASF. The energy from that anger isn’t stupid, and recently Tomo and Reiji have been practicing like crazy. Tomo in particular has been shockingly fired up. I think he dived as many as two-hundred times last Sunday.”

“Two hundred times?”

Youichi couldn’t believe his ears.

Certainly, it seemed that before there was a time where increasing the number of times jumping from the diving platform during practice was regarded as good, but nowadays great importance was placed on reasonable numbers, and it was stressed that how one dived is what should be concentrated on. It varied between individuals, but the number of dives that a person could do one day was probably at most a hundred. Even in the hardest adjustment period, one hundred and fifty dives were done at most, so two hundred could be said to qualify as a superhuman amount of practice. He climbed up those tall steps two hundred times, and dived from them two hundred times.

“That’s the strength of Tomo’s competitive spirit.” Ooshima murmured, then turned to face Youichi.

“Tomo is still fourteen years old. If your representative decision provoked him to work so hard like this now, who knows what kind of monster he’ll turn into five years from now. You shouldn’t be shutting yourself up at home, either.”

He grinned, and stood up with a splash.

“If Shibuki knew you came back, he’d definitely be happy. Don’t make your rivals so lonely, okay?”

When Ooshima went back to coaching the elementary schoolers, Youichi, as if to confirm what he had heard just a moment ago, went towards the area where the full view of the diving platform could be seen.

The poolside separated the main pool used for swimming and the diving pool. From that position, where potted plants lined up at even intervals, the towering concrete dragon could be seen directly from the front. When Youichi looked up, Tomoki had just appeared at the tip of the ten-meter.

Ever since Asaki Kayoko took the job as coach seven months ago, that boy, who had no achievements or ambition, had accomplished an astonishing change, and a stability and dignity could be seen in his standing posture as well. His somewhat unreliable body had tightened, and he seemed to have gained some more muscle in these several weeks.

Tomoki’s well-built body floated into the air, and he approached the surface of the water quickly as he traced his usual light circles.

The forward 3½ somersault in tuck position.

Tomoki had already made a skill that he had just mastered this summer completely his own. The speed at which he vigorously absorbed everything was amazing.

As Youichi held his breath and looked on, his body, which should have done 3½ somersaults, made too many extra movements, and Tomoki missed the timing of his entry as he fell at a bad angle.

Failed.

Nevertheless, it was an odd way to fail. He didn’t think that Tomoki had cat-like reflexes when it came to moving in midair.

Before Youichi’s puzzled eyes, Tomoki got out of the water and, without resting for even a moment, went towards the diving tower, ascending the steps untiringly again. There was no wastefulness in that series of movements, and a determination to dive as many times as he could within his limited practice time, where even one minute was long and even one dive was a lot, could be felt. Youichi also got like that when he was extremely focused. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything. Only himself and the dragon and the water. Because Tomoki was in this condition today, he didn’t seem to have noticed that Youichi showed up to practice a long time ago.

However, when Tomoki appeared on the tip of the ten-meter again after waiting for the other divers to go, despite concentrating just as much, he made the same mistake again with the forward 3½ somersault in tuck position. The reason was still the excessive movements just before entry.

What’s going on?

Though Youichi puzzled over it, Tomoki single-mindedly headed for the diving tower without thinking about the reason for his failures, as though he was possessed.

It was when he saw Tomoki enter the water the same way for the third time that he realized what he was doing.

“No way, is he doing 4½…”

The forward 4½ somersault in tuck position—.

Those extra movements after the 3½ somersaults. Those were meant to be an attempt to do an unprecedented final somersault, weren’t they?

As soon as he realized that, even though Youichi already had the right to represent at the Olympics in his hands, somehow, he felt like Tomoki left him behind.

Translation Notes

1. “Monkey that fell from a tree” is also a Japanese idiom that means “person who has lost something they used to rely on,” so there’s a double meaning here

2. Ballet in Japanese is “バレエ” and volleyball here is written as “バリボール,” which is a bit unusual as it’s usually written as “バレーボール”

Next time on DIVE!!: Pretty sure this is the origin of those Youichi/Kayoko fanfics on Pixiv

#DIVE!!#dive novel translation

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a-bucket-full-of-feels · 7 years

Text

Musings after my first year in university

It’s kinda late and I should be sleeping but I have nothing to do so might as well write some stuff haha

So just like that, one year of university has passed, and I have two more years to go before I step into the working world at the tender age of 23 (assuming I finish my degree just like everyone else, which is most likely going to be the case haha). It was quite an experience, and I shall just talk about a few here.

Perhaps the most stark difference between university and any sort of education I have gone through so far is the level of independence it demands from you. Even all the way up to Junior College, practically anything important that you (and your parents) need to know is delivered to you nicely on a plate. Circulars, compulsory briefing sessions, stipulated curricula - as long as you attend school regularly, there’s no way you will be out of the loop. But in university, there’s none of that. The most you get is your daily barrage of emails about happenings and events around the campus and related to your school/faculty, and it’s up to your discretion to look through and figure out what’s important for you. You’re expected to find out and look up any important academic (or non-academic) information yourself, and there are basically no authority figures there to nag and remind you about it. Being a rather independent individual, that wasn’t much of an issue, but I still had to spend some time getting used to know where to get the important information I needed with regards to school matters, on top of many other issues (for example I did not know that exchange program applications were yearly instead of per semester until I talked to someone). And on that note, perhaps what I couldn’t adjust to the most was how the most trusted source of information was not from official sources, but through word-of-mouth. You could get certain information from the portals and email circulars, but it’s your seniors and peers who really tell you the things you need to know - which textbooks to buy, modules to take, little tips and tricks related to your courses and modules - the ‘life hacks’ that make your academic life a lot less troublesome. And to me, an introvert who really dislikes socialising, it’s tough when your social circles are small (ironically I know more people from other schools than people from the business school), and I’m still getting used to that.

The academic rigour is another issue. For one thing, you only have a little more than 3 months to master all the content in your modules before sitting for the final exam. Some modules are relatively easy so it’s no big deal. But you know, I am an accountancy student, and accountancy is a professional degree, so of course the accounting modules are Not Easy. The amount of content to digest and master is demanding, needless to say, and the fact that everything is bellcurved makes it worse. The polytechnic students who have prior accountancy knowledge and academically gifted people basically make it difficult to stay ahead of the bellcurve. It doesn’t help that my uni’s business school cohort is massive (greater than all the others combined), and our faculty’s students are notorious for being muggers. It’s basically easy to do alright, but extremely difficult to be outstanding. And of course, the substantial focus on projects and presentations is another big leap from Junior College, which heavily focuses on examinations alone. Being able to speak in front of a crowd naturally is something I’m still getting used to, and the group projects, man, I tell you. Being a first year student, campus housing is basically guaranteed so most people stay in school, which gives rise to discussions that could last till late at night. And also owing to the fact that most university students basically have messed up sleep schedules, even if you’re not having a physical meeting till late, you can still be discussing and doing projects online till the wee hours of the morning. Yes, it can be frustrating at times, especially for someone who prefers to work independently and efficiently (the complete antithesis of some of my group work experiences), but there’s somehow this strange sense of satisfaction and achievement after making through intense half-day sessions of doing nothing but the report/project together.

Academics aside, I think one thing different about university which I’m glad to embrace is how it gives me opportunities to challenge myself. With shorter, flexible school hours and the opportunity to stay on campus, I could afford to take part in activities in school that I enjoy. I kind of joined the university’s harmonica band on whim, almost intending to quit at first, but I stuck through and it strengthened my interest in the instrument, and I even learned how to play the bass (which I never really expected since I was always more passionate about the chromatic. But you know, detailed harmonica musings in another post). And to my surprise, I am actually becoming the vice-chairperson of the band for the next academic year. We are still in the process of handing over and everything is kind of preliminary, but the prospects are nonetheless exciting and I never once imagined that anyone (myself included) could entrust me with such a huge responsibility. On top of the band, I also joined another club which allowed me to dabble into and have a little taste of social entrepreneurship. Things were rocky at the start, but I’m currently in a project which is actually headed in a pretty promising direction, and me and the team would be delivering a pitch next Monday for this competition we’re in. I’m glad to have the opportunity to polish my presentation skills which are still pretty rough, and experience the rigour of working on a tangible business idea. Being in these clubs also gave me the opportunity to talk to people from different schools, which I feel is pretty refreshing because it’s a respite from the business school culture. One thing very different about university clubs is that joining one is a matter of your own interest, but students also are forced to join if they want to rack up enough points to stay in the halls the next year. This has its merits and downfalls - you get people who are really passionate about the club, and I’ve seen some of them in both clubs, but there are also the people who join initially and eventually drop out or continue half-heartedly, and it’s honestly a downer when you yourself are putting in your best effort for the club. Nonetheless, being in clubs is probably the best part of my university life so far and I am excited what the next academic year has to offer to me.

Finally, I’ll probably just talk a bit about some regrets and my hopes for the future. For one thing, I still feel like I’m still in my shell, not the bold, confident individual that I was hoping university was going to shape me to be. I’m aware that this is one of my greatest psychological barrier and “flaw” (for the lack of the better word, idk), and it’s extremely difficult to change your innate nature. But with two years of business school to go and the conscious choices I have made to put myself out there through my club appointments/activities, I hope that I would eventually do so. It’s a gradual process, but practice does make perfect. Another regret and what I’d hope for is in the area of having real friends around school. I’ve joined the school knowing close to no one, and the way your academic life basically resets every semester makes it difficult for me to get to know anyone personally, especially when I take a long time to warm up to people and the fact that almost everyone has their own social circles pre-formed when they go to university. Not knowing anyone on a very personal level, especially from the same school, can be tough (refer to first point), so I really hope I somehow manage to meet some like-minded individuals that I can connect on a personal level next semester. This may actually be tough, I’m painfully awkward and bad at connecting with people...

Well, that’s just a little bit of my thoughts about my first year in university. I’m hoping year two will be even better, and as for the rest of the long summer break...that I’ll actually get a job ugh

#long post #mah uni life

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thelifeoftuan · 5 years

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Wellness

This has been a huge topic in the medical professional lately... or at least I’ve become more attuned to it these days. I think it might have been because of the unfortunate consequence of me becoming chief resident of my program, because ever since then, I’ve felt like my ears have perked up to all of the goings-on about resident wellness. I read an article recently about the state of resident wellness and how much it has become quite the hot button issue in residencies these days. I’m not exactly sure if it has always been an issue or if the conversation has suddenly just gotten really intense... or if it’s really just my own individual program... but I thought that I’d delve a little deeper and maybe offer up some additional thoughts and opinions. Unsolicited of course. But what opinion really comes solicited these days anyway. If you’re interested in reading the article I mentioned (mind you, it was relayed to me by a colleague who I currently hold in contempt and written by someone who is not a resident, which isn’t to say that the article and its contents are invalid at all because it is very well written and really is 100% the truth from someone with a different perspective and who is not a resident), here it is: http://in-housestaff.org/resident-wellness-is-a-lie-part-1-1319. I jumped into residency--no, medical school... actually, no, LIFE--knowing that it was not going to be an easy ride for me. I knew it from the very beginning, even when I was that little sixth grader who decided he wanted to become a pediatrician. I was literally told by my primary care physician as a teenager that I was setting myself up for a tough life and that I should really consider something else. I knew that the path that I had chosen for myself was not going to be a pretty one and it was not going to be one that I would waltz through with ease. I am simple. And to that effect, a simpleton. I struggled through college. And through med school. And for that matter, through residency. Life was not easy for me. Or kind. But it definitely was not cruel. I guess there was a difference. I did at points felt like I was dealt a less than stellar hand... but I worked with what I got. Because I have interacted with people who, when they are not dealt the cards they want, fling it into the air, hoot and holler, and make a stupid ass scene about it until they get what they want. Me? That’s not how I’m wired. Chalk it up to perseverance or resilience or just plain stupidity... but I tried my damnedest and put above 100% of my effort into my endeavors no matter how badly I felt my luck had become. A lot of the times, things did not work out in my favor. And when things did, I always felt like there was still so much more that I needed to accomplish that I simply moved forward. I know what it’s like as a student and as a resident to work those 30-hour shifts, to be degraded and talked down to, to be made to feel like you are inadequate and not worthy of the profession, to be ridiculed and chastised... and even as a resident, as a physician in the field I had worked so hard to become a part of, I am still considered an amateur, not completely worthy, and incompetent at times. I know what it’s like to be completely exhausted, to have to put your entire life further beyond the back burner because you’ve already set so many other things stacked on top of one another on that back burner because of your job. I know what it’s like to have relationships burn up in flames and blow up in your face, to lose friendships, to become distant from your family, to have a fallout with your loved ones because you simply just did not have the time, energy, or patience to explain yourself to them about why you felt the way you did because you were just too tired. I get all of that. I know what burnout feels like because I am charred to the bone because of it. And because of all of that, I am not well. Yes, resident wellness is a sham. It is in fact a lie. Some mystical beast conjured up by the powers that be to make these foot soldier believe, even perhaps for just a second, that it is something remotely achievable. It is some term coined up by disillusioned higher-ups who haven’t the slightest comprehension of what wellness entails these days. It’s really just a check box for them, a measure of compliance to standards set forth by yet more people who are out-of-touch with the realities of medicine and residency in the modern age. I completely agree with this article in the sense that those who set the standards have no idea how to achieve these standards. And those they entrust to see that these standards are kept up with, i.e. program directors, are also unfortunately out-of-touch. The only ones who can really understand and truly motivate the task are, sadly, the ones who have buried themselves too deep in residency to find that motivation. Which brings me to this point I wanted to make about resident wellness. While the article is right, you will not hear one honest resident speak the term “wellness” without even the slightest of sarcasm. The term itself has become somewhat of an oxymoron. And as moronic as the phrase “resident wellness” sounds to my ears... I do have this point to make. ...is it completely these higher-ups’ fault that this sphere of residency has fallen so deep into the shitter that it seemingly cannot be salvaged? I don’t think so. Some of my colleagues would like to place the blame completely on the system “that chews them up and spits them out.” ...but honestly, are we not part of that system, too? Aren’t we as residents part of the problem that is perpetuating this resident unwellness? If you knew the Old Tuan, pre-residency Tuan, troubled and depressed Tuan, you would have feared for his life knowing that he was going to be a doctor. And in that, feared for the patients he was going to take care, because he was not a well person. But I knew that I had to make a change. I knew that these selfish and deprecating emotions were a detriment to my life and the lives of my patients in the present and future. And I will be honest, jumping into residency gave me life. It gave me renewed purpose and drive. It has built up my confidence over the years and has definitely strengthened my resolve and resilience. I owe a lot of my successes to becoming a resident and being a resident. And part of that being a resident is this expectation that, yes, you will have to work. A lot. And very hard. And unfortunately, over the years, I have this strong inkling that people in my generation and the generations that followed and will follow have lost sight of that. Being a doctor is hard work. Hell, being an effing human being sometimes is bitter work. I get it. I GET IT! I totally do. And I am not downplaying the strife that comes with residency one bit. Sometimes, this work is very destructive and demeaning and steals the humanity from you and your loved ones and it truly is like the hand of Midas that seemingly destroys everything it touches. I’ve been there! There were times early on in my residency training where I felt like I had lost everything and had nothing else to live for except residency, which ironically was--again, seemingly--sucking the life out of me. But then I told myself “no more.” I picked myself back up, dusted off the soot, scraped off the burnt parts, and kept trucking forward. And I grinded through the tough hours and grueling work and difficult parents and patients and getting mistreated and I took every opportunity, no matter how harrowing, to be a learning opportunity and a chance for me to prove myself and become a better person, a better physician... because this is my job. This is my duty. And this is what I signed up for. No one else asked for this of me except myself. And so there was a point where I made the affirmation to step up to the challenge and to not complain. To recognize my strengths and qualities and use them to help others as best I could, to test my limits and my stamina and put as much effort as I can possibly muster to do right by my patients and my colleagues... and perhaps even more importantly, to recognize my weaknesses and my limits and to constantly strive to improve on them and, when I am stuck or at a loss, to ask for help when I could not carry on on my own. Residency has not been easy for me. It has been wrought with setbacks and failures and obstacles. There have been a lot of days where I wake up with this dread and this fear, this fear of failure, this fear that exhaustion has finally caught up to me, this nagging despair that lurks in the background ready to pounce and completely burn me out. But still, I push forward. I push forward through all of that and try my hardest to be the absolute best I can be at my job. I do what is asked of me, and a lot of times beyond that. I put in the hours (sometimes more than the next person). I follow the rules. I comply with the regulations. And I don’t complain. Because I know that this is part of the job. When I am no longer a resident, there is no one who is going to check my wellness except for myself. And honestly, for that matter, I realized early on in my residency training that, honestly, there is no one now who is going to check my wellness except for myself. I want so badly to ask my colleagues (the ones who fume and shout about how unwell they are) if they can actually tell the difference within themselves. Are they truly unwell? Are they just tired? Or are they just complaining? I don’t want to say any of this to, again, downplay anyone’s struggles during residency, because believe me, those struggles are there. And yes, resident wellness is definitely an area in residency that has accrued a high profile mainly for its lack of progress over the years. We have students and residents and practicing physicians still suffering from the deadly consequences of physician unwellness to simply just gloss over the topic and toss it aside. But truly, honestly, to those who take one long look at themselves and their work... can you deem yourself truly unwell? Or are you just complaining because you’re not getting what you want? Because I will be honest, I think part of the problem, or at least within my program, is this air of entitlement, this thought that “I deserve better because I am better than everyone else.” The complaints that their work hours are too strenuous, that they have to spend 24-hours at a time away from their family is too much to be asked of them as a physician, that they deserve and demand more days off, that they do not have to comply to the rules of the residency program “because #wellness.” ...it all is quite frankly asinine. I have colleagues who consciously refuse to follow the rules, take more than the allotted vacation days without anyone’s approval (I would know because I am one the chief residents) and expect no consequences from their actions. I have colleagues who simply find it palatable to shirk their resident duties and responsibilities because they feel that that work is beneath them. I have colleagues who complain daily about their work hours when in all reality, they have spent more time at home and on vacation than I have because I was gracious enough to absorb that time into my own schedule so that they may have those days off. I have colleagues who complain about having to work during one holiday, not even an extended period of days during the holiday, but just a 24-hour shift every third day or so, where as I worked an entire 9-day stretch during one holiday break and also worked the next holiday the following month. Would you like to guess which one is the most vocal about how “unwell” they are? I find it the most appalling thing that my colleagues, who are adults, still have this mindset of “me me me,” even when they are in a profession where, news flash, it is not at all about you. The things that these residents say, the vitriol that is spouted from their silver-spoon-fed mouths, all in the sake of “resident wellness” is honestly infuriating to me sometimes. And it honestly undermines the whole conversation about resident wellness, if I am to be quite honest with you. It invalidates the necessity to improve on this standard because all I hear from are these entitled people who think that they shouldn’t have to work as hard as the next person because they think they are better than everyone else. I’m sorry, but does the fact that you’re married or have children put you in a better position to have a better schedule than me? I don’t think so. Why are you implying that you deserve more “wellness” because of these things as opposed to me and some of my other colleagues who do their job and have never complained about their schedule? I don’t get it! Where is the disconnect?! I honestly find it a little insulting to the entire profession and find it a disservice to the field to know that there are physicians like this who still exist. Where exactly does the problem begin and how can it be fixed? No one really knows now, honestly, because the picture is so muddied. And I think that’s why regulating organizations like ACGME lack such control and grasp of the concept of resident wellness is because the picture is so muddied... by entitled residents. Entitlement is one of my pet peeves, and it severely chaps my ass to know that there will be matriculating physicians who will continue to perpetuate this horrible attitude that is not befitting of a physician. And yes, on the flip side, it also severely chaps my ass that there are physicians and programs out there who will also continue to perpetuate this horrible culture of ignoring and mismanaging physician wellness to the point where the product is just as horrible, if not worse. This topic is definitely multifaceted and very complicated. And I liken this topic, honestly, to global warming. There are people “in charge” who don’t think it is a real problem. There are people “in charge” who are mismanaging the hell out of it. There are people regulating it who understanding nothing about it. And then there are those who are the constituents who overexaggerate the problem for their own selfish and personal gains, those who don’t understand fully its consequences, those who understand its consequences but don’t know what to do, those who are apathetic, and those who care too much to the point where they serve as a detriment to the cause. It’s multifaceted and definitely complicated. It’s an issue that will require years and years of--you guessed it--hard work to fix. I don’t know of a solution. I don’t know of a resolve. And I am not sure how this will play out in the future. I guess, truthfully, my whole point of writing this post apart from acknowledging the problem and offering my understanding and what little advice I could give, since I honestly feel like I fall into that group who understand its consequences but does not know what to do, was to say that if you’re an entitled whiny-ass bitch who just doesn’t want to work because you don’t feel like it, check yourself and shut the hell up, do your job and pull your weight. Because here’s news for you, your actions are causing your peers and colleagues more unwellness.

#wellness #resident wellness #entitlement

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idiotsfantasies-blog · 6 years

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An open letter to my mother

Hey mom,

Shout out to you for teaching me how to be a better person. Your example taught me exactly what not to be, both as a mother and as a person. As a mother, you were manipulative, overreactive, and harsh. You got angry at me often for my misunderstanding things or the way my brain processes and deals with things differently. When you were angry, you unleashed harsh punishments that you later realized were unnecessary and extreme, but your pride kept you from freeing me from these. You taught me to think carefully before speaking and keep in mind how my words will affect others’ lives. You taught me to never let my pride keep me from making a person’s life more bearable.

I learned that there are often conditions with the word love, but there shouldn't be. I learned that just because someone constantly says they love you doesn't mean that everything they do is what's best for you. You taught me never to tell someone I love them unless I'm positive I do because once that word loses its meaning, that meaning never returns. I learned that actions speak way louder than words, even if those words are repeated over and over again to you.

I learned that when you express opinions such as “I don’t hate gays but I’m tired of them pushing their agenda on us,” and “Bi people are almost always extremely sexually active (sluts). I would never marry one,” it makes your bisexual teen daughter afraid to tell you things, and I learned that when your daughter entrusts you with something and you yell at her and punish her for it, you can’t get mad at her, when, the next time, she chooses not to tell you something going on in her life. I learned that if you want someone’s trust, you have to earn it. You can’t just force them into trusting you by yelling at them for not doing so.

I learned that a constant combination of forced special diets and unending comments about how much skin a dress shows or the tightness of a shirt eventually results in body issues in that person’s life, and that if a girl is taught to cover her body up at all costs from the very beginning, she will naturally become ashamed of it. She will do whatever possible to make it more acceptable, and no inch of extra skin is worth the physical scars and therapy that results from bulimia and self-harm. You taught me to respect everyone’s bodies, no matter the shape or size. I learned, later on, to say “fuck it” and eat however many cookies I wanted without feeling bad about it the next day. It took a while, but I learned to be confident in a bikini or crop top and to realize that literally, no one is judging me for wearing it.

You taught me how to manipulate my computer’s history to hide the fact that I was looking up how to run away safely. You taught me how to hide money behind canvases on my wall periodically so that I would have extra cash you didn’t know about. You taught me how to pretend I was sleeping so that I could close my door while changing or drawing so I could have a bit of me time. You taught me how to throw out my trash directly into the bin outside right before the trash truck came so you couldn’t go through it and yell at me for eating a chocolate bar or for the depressing poem I wrote. You taught me how to give unimportant tidbits of my day to avoid further questioning, and how to change information to leave out anything that could be used against me. I learned to never trust anyone with any vital information and to erase any evidence of my existence. I learned that privacy is a rare thing to have and that a room or purse is at any moment vulnerable to being searched through.

I learned how to hold in tears throughout the day to avoid questions and how to fake a smile that could fool even the smartest expert in smiles. You taught me that if you cry only at night, only cut on your legs, and make your eyes squint a little while smiling without your teeth touching, people believed that you were happy and left you alone. I learned that little white lies could do a lot when you were trying to throw off suspicion.

You showed me how not to deal with your daughter's depression when you grounded me for until my grades got better and took everything but my bed and clothes away from me and out of my room. You taught me how to pick a lock so that I could get to my mascara so I could feel more confident that day. You showed me that stopping your daughter's extracurricular activities and locking her in her room doesn't magically improve her grades. I learned that a D in 7th grade because of depression is never worth worsening the depression and isolating your daughter.

I learned that it is possible to be constantly paranoid that you are turning into a monster because you believe you were always doing the right thing, even when you weren't. You taught me that it isn't enough to be guided by simply the intuition that I was doing the right thing and that if you are fake enough, you can't judge by the people that are around you or see you every day. I learned that being a mother doesn't always make you right, even if that's what you want to believe. Mothers make a ton of mistakes, and it's okay to do so occasionally, as long as you genuinely apologize for them and fix them.

You taught me to listen to people's arguments, stories, and points of view when you never listened to me. I learned that when you continually ignore someone, they eventually stop telling you things. I learned that a little bit of kindness and empathy can go a long way. I learned that being loud and intense around people scares them and that your voice should be kept level if you want to be liked by both your children and strangers. I learned that physical touch isn't always soothing or desirable. I learned that when you don't give your daughter a phone, it makes it even harder for them to socialize and feel accepted in society.

Lastly, I learned that it is possible to get through difficult situations. It is possible to live with the people you hate most for 18 years without turning into a serial killer, but it takes a strong will, a stronger mind, and a constantly vigilant heart. I learned that my actions now will affect people later in life, and I should always make sure the effect is positive because I never want them to go through a similar experience.

You taught me so many valuable life lessons that I promise I will never forget. You changed the way I viewed the world, relationships, and privacy forever, but I wouldn't give up the opportunity to skip out on these lessons if it meant that I wouldn't have to go through those 18 years of hell.

#growing up #open letter to mom #fuck you #stay strong #emotional abuse awareness #18 years of hell #survivor #really really long post

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