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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

darling, you should know i’m a helicopter

a healthy dose of hurt/comfort with added baby snuggles, because i truly felt for amy in this episode. it's been a long time since i just wrote something quick but i hope you enjoy! 🥰

oh and if you want a picture this is the pajamas mac is wearing, okay cool

read on ao3

Amy doesn’t mean for it to be a breakdown.

She’s not surprised when Mac’s familiar piercing cries wake her up again a mere hour and a half after she’s fed him and put him to sleep for the night. As miraculous as Charles’ methods seemed, she still believes some babies are just fussy, and her son is one of them. It’s the only logical conclusion she’s come to after six, eight, ten, and twelve weeks all passed without any notable improvement in Mac’s ability to sleep longer stretches, and now he’s five months old and defying every single baby book and website that informs her he should be well settled into a sleeping schedule by now. He’s just fussy, or a high need baby, or whatever other term with needlessly negative connotations there is to make Amy feel like she's doing a bad job. It’s who he is and it’s what she’s used to, so she just scoots to the edge of the bed and picks him up from his travel cot in her still hurting arms before he can wake up the rest of the house.

On another night, she might have tried to walk around with him first, play some white noise or bounce on the yoga ball with him, but she’s tired and dejected and scared to wake up anyone else, so she goes for the easy option. The buttons of her pink striped pajama shirt are easily accessible for this exact purpose, and resting Mac’s head in the crook of her right arm, she gently guides him to her chest and exhales in relief as the crying comes to a stop. At least this, she can do, and the idiots who write advice pages about how you shouldn’t get your baby used to falling asleep at the breast have probably never even met a real baby.

She leans back against the pillows when she’s sure Mac’s found a good latch and she can hear his content grunts and swallows. His hand has found a steady grip on her newly washed hair, probably getting drool in it again, but she can’t be bothered to try and unclench his little iron fist when he’s finally happy. Watching his perfect chubby cheeks as they hollow and fill, stroking the soft baby curls that are getting lighter and more like Jake’s every day, Amy’s overcome with another wave of that crazy all-consuming love that keeps surprising her, and then she’s the one who can’t stop her tears from falling.

The only thing she ever wants is to keep him safe. In a world of pandemics and injustice, where the news gives her anxiety attacks more days than not and everything she thought she knew keeps changing, at least she can make sure Mac has his every need attended to. It’s been her life while staying home for the past five months, and she likes to think she’s handled it well all things considered, but after Charles’ nip tips and three-hour imprisonment of her child, Amy can’t help but feel like she’s done it all wrong.

Her son is at his happiest when she can’t bother him. Once again, her high-strungness and failure to just be chill have proved her unfit for motherhood. She’s too anxious, too stressed, too overprotective, and the baby in her arms looking up at her with the warmest, roundest brown eyes she’s ever known is seriously unlucky and he doesn’t even know it.

She doesn’t know where the negative thoughts are coming from, but sometimes breastfeeding has this effect on her – another sign, the self-hating voice in her head whispers – and it’s been an exhausting day, so she lets the tears come and hopes Jake is too deeply asleep to notice her mini-breakdown. Why is this so hard for her, and why can’t she just relax? How come Mac seems to be the only child she’s heard of whose sleeping habits at home have gotten worse and not better after his first few weeks at daycare, and how come even the most gentle of sleep training methods break her heart when Mac cries like he’s been abandoned?

She’s wiping her tears with her free hand before wiping Mac’s cheeks with the muslin blanket when Jake begins to stir next to her, and even that makes her feel guilty, because he’s had a long day, too. He rubs his hand against her upper arm as if sensing that something’s off, yawning as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting position.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his softest sleepy voice, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. “Are you okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she tries, but her voice breaks, so she shakes her head. Mac is starting to pull away, so she unlatches him and sighs when she realizes that the shirt she’d packed clean already has milk stains on it. She rests him upright with his head on her shoulder instead, patting him on the back and trying to stop the tears that won't stop coming.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it Charles again? Because I really think he felt bad, but I’m happy to tell him off again if you want me to.”

“It's not Charles.” Amy sighs. “Well, it kind of is, but it's more that... I can't believe the best Mac has ever slept was when I wasn't even there. I try everything and nothing works, and Charles straight-up locks him in a room, and that makes him fall asleep? It feels like more proof I wasn't meant to do this,” she says, and she can see him immediately opening his mouth to protest. “Like even Charles is a more natural mom than I am.”

Mac makes a hiccuping noise, spitting up a little bit of milk on the muslin blanket Amy put on her shoulder. Jake wipes it away before laying an arm around them, half-hugging them both.

“No offense, but that's the worst lie I’ve heard today, and that's including the stuff Terry said about me.” He strokes Mac’s back through the blue pajamas with little moons and clouds with faces as he begins to whimper again. “You're the best mom to him ever, Ames. You do everything for him. You literally kicked down a door to get to him today. Why do you think someone would be better?”

Amy sighs as she adjusts Mac in her arms, swaying him slightly and being surprised when it actually makes him go quiet. He has his eyes closed, fists up in front of his face, and just the thought that she could be doing something wrong by him makes her heart shatter.

“Because I try too hard,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jake to hear. “When he was locked in by Charles, I couldn't check on him, and it was the best nap he's ever had. All because I worry too much about him. Because I don't know what else to do. I want to keep him safe, but instead I’m somehow not doing enough and doing too much at once.”

She tickles that adorable baby chin with her index finger. Mac grips it, bringing it to his mouth with determination, and it makes both parents laugh. Why he likes this but rejects every single kind of pacifier Buy Buy Baby had to offer, she’ll never understand.

“He knows you love him,” Jake says, as if that was an obvious fact. He likes to claim he can read Mac’s mind about these things, a skill which Amy thinks would have been a lot more useful if it had also worked to figure out what it is their son needs during their worst nights of crying. It's what she needed to hear right now, though, and she leans her head on his shoulder as a silent thank you. “And just because he might be a little introverted sometimes doesn't mean he doesn't love you like crazy, too. I mean, that's what you tell me when I interrupt you when you're reading, right?”

She smiles. “I guess.”

“I know you worry,” he continues. “But just because Mac likes his peace and quiet sometimes doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job. Maybe we could even let him start sleeping in his nursery at night, you know, just see what happens?”

Just the mention of not having her son within arm’s length at night makes Amy freeze and a million nightmare scenarios flash through her head, and Jake laughs a little as he feels her shoulders tense. “Okay, I can tell that was too big of a step and you’re freaking out, so maybe not. But one day?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she decides, carefully trying to pull her finger out of her son’s mouth. “Thanks, babe. I just really want to go back to sleep.”

Mac’s eyes are fluttering, a telltale sign that he’s starting to fight his sleep, stretching his legs and letting out the most adorable of baby-sighs. Jake runs his thumb over his son’s forehead and nose in an attempt to make him relax, and shakes his head as Mac only forces his eyes open again.

“He’s lucky he’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s lucky we love him,” Amy mumbles, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah. I mean, who needs a full night’s sleep anyway, right?” Jake says, and Amy just stares at him with a blank expression.

“I know you’re joking, but I would almost leave him in Charles’ hands for a night again if it meant I got a four-hour stretch, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah.” Jake grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m kind of thinking about it too.”

Thinking that maybe Mac will repeat his magical streak of at least managing to fall asleep on his own, Amy tries to put him down in the cot again, but she’s barely moved before he lets out another unhappy cry. She lifts him upright against her chest again, biting her lip and trying not to feel defeated as she starts the hushing and rocking all over again.

“Hey, I can take him,” Jake says, reaching for him. “You need to sleep so you can stop crazy-spiraling, and I’ve barely held him all day. I’ll walk around with him outside for a while, that might do it.”

It’s not the typical declarations of love they used to share, but as he puts the muslin blanket on his shoulder before taking Mac and getting out of bed with him, Amy’s confident that she’s never loved her husband more. This, right here, watching him with sleep-tousled curls in just his t-shirt and pajama pants as he adjusts his son and bounces him slightly in his arms while the crying turns into a more gentle fussing, is far hotter than any sex dream about Sanjay Gupta could ever be.

#my writing #b99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy fanfiction #here it is i hope you enjoy!!!

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angsty-omi · 3 years

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the friend zone.

levi ackerman x reader

no proofread— i wrote this at 4am

tw: mentions of blood, cursing, and levi being a fucking dick.

out of all the comrades in the survey corps, levi only fancied a few amount. hange, erwin, and you. you couldn’t understand why, it wasn’t like you were any special. honestly if you didn’t dye your hair pink using a mixture of berries and flour, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

it all started when everyone was in an ordered formation, while levi eyed down every single newbie. not necessarily saying anything, just staring into their soul. until, you caught his eye, and immediately he skipped over everyone else to face you. the people before you in line sighed with relief. maybe he was here to compliment my hair or critique my stance. it was none of that. in fact, he blew your knees so you’d fall forward. under your ragged pants, you could feel the skin on your knee starting to bleed. you looked up at him with shock, and he grabbed the back of your hair putting you much closer to his face. you couldn’t help but admire his tired eyes, or his wrinkles from furrowing his eyebrows. aside from that, he’s actually quite handsome. his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“scrub this shit off or else i will feed you to them” levi scolded and shoved your head onto the ground.

them as in the titans? you feared. as you looked over the other commanders, they inadvertently looked away from the two of you. you politely complied, and hoped he and the others ignored the tears running down your face. once you got to your quarters, you went straight to the shower. the color was slowly but surely getting off, showing your brown hair underneath. it’s been a while since you’ve seen your normal hair color. back in your village, you were known as the one with the artsy look, which was basically a polite way of saying the weird one. the shower head was also burning your fresh wounds from that morning and then some. you couldn’t help but think about your experience with levi and how he a complete dick he was. you swore to never get close to him nor acknowledge his presence unless required.

so how did you get here? leaning back on his chair with your feet on the table, waiting for him to come back from training the new fleet. shortly after, your not-so-fun first encounter, levi warmed up to you through back and forth banter and snarky comebacks. you’ve learned his lingo, when he says “i hate you,” it means the opposite— to the extent of “you’re okay.” if he says, “brat,” then he actually likes you. it’s the people he doesn’t remember the names of that should be scared of him. you read him like a book and vice versa.

he knew you, a bit too well. over the past few months, he could tell that you’ve started to like him afar from just friends. while he loved you as a comrade, his heart did not have the capacity to have an actual lover. so, he’s been hinting for you to not confess. scared is a term he never uses, but this was one of the few that did. levi was never scared of titans, literal human-eating monsters, rather, he was scared of you confessing your feelings for him. as the meticulous man that he his, he anticipated that today was the day that you’d express your feelings. how? over the past week, you’ve been trying to pry any sort of response for your unrequited feelings. while you thought you were slick, levi knew. that’s why he stalled the new members by running strenuous amounts of laps, because once he came back, you’d do it.

levi couldn’t hide from you any longer. with his hand on the knob, it slowly turned. there you were, with a bright smile on your face greeting him. it warmed his heart, platonically. your heart, however, was beating a million times faster once you saw him. you understood rejection was a high possibility, but you were at your limit.

“levi?” you fretted.

he nodded in response.

“you should sit down,”

levi took in a deep breath, knowing that this was the talk.

“i think i’m in love with you,” your eyes glossed. talking about your feelings always made you cry.

silence was your answer. even though, you knew this was a high chance, damnit did it hurt. you’ve been wounded by titans, and yet, this hurt the most. seeing levi’s face conflicted, trying to find the words to say to kindly reject you.

“y/n, listen you’re great. i love how you make me smile, your dumb jokes, snarky comments, and shitty roasts. but, i’m not in love with you, nor do i think i will ever.” he expressed, not looking at you in the eye. thinking, you were about to breakdown and cry, he was surprised to you see a stoic face.

“good, because i have other news.” you sighed, with a stressed out hand rubbing your temple.

news, what other news? what has she been keeping from me? levi wondered.

“my parents have found me a husband. at first, i completely shut it down. but then, starting to think of it, it would be nice to just leave and live a normal life. i was truly, truly, considering it but my love for you had to be addressed.”

“and i guess, since we’ve cleared that road... i’m leaving levi,” tears started dripping down your cheeks. looking up at levi, he had the same monotonous face. you couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“say something please” you begged.

“get out.”

“what?”

“i said get out.”

“what? why? you don’t even want to talk about this?”

“what is there to talk about? you’re leaving for some comfy lifestyle and ignoring reality. y/n we are literally dying every day. no one has the opportunity of being able to just leave. and yet, here you are leaving. you’re such a fucking pussy, i can’t believe i ever let you get this close. i was right when i first met you, you’re just some privileged girl who wanted to see a change of scenery.”

the love of your life just ended your whole career. but what was more upsetting? was that he was right. you were afraid. seeing all your friends dying was detrimental to your mental health and you saw this as a way to escape.

“you’re right, i am scared. of everything. but levi think to yourself why have i stuck out this long? why have i allowed myself to continue to serve after seeing all my comrades being ate up like chicken wings? because of you. i’m so fucking in love with you that i could handle all that. but if i don’t even have you what do i have left?” you sobbed.

“you still have me! just not that way and why does it have to be?”

“because seeing you so touchy with petra hurts. it fucking hurts seeing the man you love fall in with others!”

“seriously levi, tell me to my face that you don’t like her.”

again with the silence. something so loud, but so quiet.

you angrily slammed the door closed. your five year friendship, gone just like that. you leaned your back against the wooden door, slowly sliding down not feeling your legs. your sobs were loud, apparent that levi could hear it from the other side. if he could, he would. as soon as you felt your legs, you left.

once you got to your quarters, you grabbed your suitcase trying to pack as many things blindly. only ten minutes in, and you heard a knock at your door.

“leave me alone, i understood your message completely and now am leaving.” you screamed, knowing exactly who it was. the door slammed open with heavy pressure.

“what do you want levi,” you cried.

you felt arms wrap around your back with a head nestled into your neck.

“i think i’m in love with you too.” he whispered so quiet, that if you weren’t listening you’d miss it.

“you’re just saying that,”

“no i mean it. selfish enough, the thought of you being happy with someone other than me physically hurts my heart.”

now you’re silent.

“from the day i first landed my eyes on your ugly pink hair, to now you always had my attention one way or another. but it’s like, if i’ve accepted these feelings it’ll hurt even more if you die. i buried it down. down so far that on the surface it felt platonic. but your dumbass dug it back up.”

you swiftly turned around and pressed your lips against his. his eyes shocked at first, but then slowly melting into your lips. both desperate to show the other how much they mean to one another.

as you slowly pulled away, he instinctively moved forward which made you laugh.

“does this mean we’re something?” you gleamed.

“y/n” he said heavily.

your face dropped once again.

“you’re fucking ridiculous. are you serious levi?! i’m not going to wait for you forever. god knows how long i’ll live, and i won’t be dragged around like a little puppy.” you scolded, furious at yourself for thinking he changed.

you continued to rummage through your clothes and decided that it was enough.

“goodbye levi, i hope when you figure all your shit out you’ll finally be happy. whether it’s with yourself or with petra, but it sure as hell ain’t me.” you tipped your head at him, tears still blinding your eyesight.

if you had looked behind you, you would’ve saw levi crying. it wasn’t dramatic— no, more like tears were slipping that he himself didn’t even notice. this was the life he chose, and he knew he couldn’t get close with anyone. his young self never thought he would’ve found someone to truly care about. and if it meant letting his soulmate go, then so be it.

#attack on titan #levi angst #levi x reader #levi aot #levi fluff #aot fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader

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welkinsky · 3 years

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Hi, can I request one where Levi and his fem s/o are invited to a party organized by the military police? Although she hates the military police, the reader decides to go to the party to spend time having fun with Levi and her friends to disconnect once from her duty, when the reader asks Levi to go to the party with her he refuses by saying that it is a stupid thing, the reader is sad and disappointed. The reader is invited shortly after by a friend of hers and she accepts. When Levi finds out he gets angry and jealous and tries to convince the reader not to go to the party but being Levi he is unable to express himself in the best way and ends up offending the reader. Levi decides to follow the reader and her friend to the party. Having noticed that Levi was following them, the friend of the reader suggests to the reader to go and clarify things with Levi and the reader decides to follow her friend's advice. Eventually Levi and the reader make up and are able to communicate better. Thank you so much and sorry for my bad English❤️

Levi X Reader | The Ball

Masterlist

Levi and you have been dating for a while now, one of the things that bonded you together in the first place was you two hating military police to your guts. But because of your posts, you two cannot really show it that often but initially you two spent a lot of time bitching about them. You still do that lol.

But since you two have been promoted, both of you have very little time to spend with one another, and the fact that you two feel so distant sometimes scared you. Lately, you have been noticing things a lot because of your overthinking self taking over you.

Even though you knew how busy he was, still your brain was convinced that he wasn't putting in many efforts into this relationship like you were. Which sometimes pissed you off but you being you, you never communicated it with him because you didn't want to "bother" him. To him, everything wasn't the best either but at least you two weren't on bad terms and understood each other's position.

When you ask him to go with you to the ball so that you two can finally have a relaxing night with each other, he refused. With a straight face and tried to convince you to not go there either. But this only pissed you off even more and you decided you were going anyways. With or without him.

You asked your friend to accompany you and she was hesitant first knowing that you were planning on going with Levi but why were you suddenly asking her? As you explained, Levi heard everything. He didn't say anything then since you were with her but he asked you once you both reached his home.

"Are you going to that stupid thing even after I told you not to?" with annoyance lingering on his face. You just said yes with a straight face and heading to the bedroom. Which pissed him off, even more, to come after you and he shouted, "You know this could be a trap right? And you're walking right into it!" To which you replied," Oh come on Levi! Why can't you just take a very simple thing as it is?! Why are you making a big deal out of it?! You are not going there anyway so why do you care?"

"Why do I-" he stopped mid-sentence observing you and said, "Fine, looks like you've made up your mind then, go by yourself! If you get in trouble don't expect me to come to your rescue like I always do!" He shouted the last sentence. It hurt more because it sounded as if he didn't consider you strong and capable of taking care of yourself anymore.

"Fine! And for your information, I have rescued YOU and hid your reckless deads a lot more than you have ever helped me! Don't EVER IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE THINK THAT I'M WITH YOU BECAUSE I NEED YOUR FUCKING PROTECTION!" You yelled the last part and left his house and headed to yours. You have never raised your voice on anyone. You even threaten people with a very silent tone. He stood there watching you leave because he knew what you said was right and how he said his part was most definitely not the nicest thing.

He knew something was going on inside your head that you are not explaining. He asked your friend about what time you guys will be leaving and hung up before she can ask any further questions. He was not letting you go like this. He loved you way too much to even think about letting you go so he decided to go to the ball too.

You got ready, obviously after a whole heavy crying session only because you shouted at him. You hated when anyone else foul-mouthed about him but this time it was you who screamed in his face. But still, the thought of him not putting in any efforts didn't leave your mind so you decided to go anyways.

As you were passing the hallways to the ball, you crossed Levi's room and just from a side-eye saw what he was doing and his face was buried in the papers. A piece of your heart literally broke knowing that he had gone back to his schedule without even bothering to talk to you.

As you moved forward to the ball you noticed him on first, second, and at many other turns following you. Your friend noticed him too and nudged you to go talk to him. As if you just needed a small push you turned and started walking towards him. He was about to say something but you hugged him. Tight.

He did the same to you too! You both knew that you two regretted what you two said. As you broke the hug he didn't let you go fully, still having one hand on the small of your back and not letting your torso leave. He noticed your red eyes and said, "I'm so sorry baby. I know something is bothering you for the past few weeks. Rather than talking about it, I lashed out on you." While placing his palms on your cheek to which you leaned your head on.

You just smiled at seeing his face again. For a second you thought it was over. "Also I cannot let that new brat put his hands on you, considering how beautiful my baby looks in this dress. Wait... is this-" before he could finish the sentence you nodded yes. He bought you a dress a while ago, that he saw in a shop while buying groceries, all because he thought that "it was made for you". His words, not mine!

You two went to the ball together had a lot of fun mocking the military officials among yourselves and once you were back home and in bed, he asked what exactly was bothering you. You wanted to give the, "Oh no it's fine" but you thought now is the perfect time to let it out. He heard you with full attention and wiped your tear as you cried a few times while explaining everything.

When you two finally lay down to sleep he whispered, "I know you're not weak." and hugged you tighter.

_______________________

Thanks For Reading!

If you liked it you can check out the masterlist too!

Asks are still open if you want to submit any ;)

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phantomnostalgist · 3 years

Photo

An Interview with Peter Karrie

From “POTO: The Phantom of the Opera Magazine”, Millennium Edition (2000), published by Carrie Hernandez. (This btw is the greatest Phantom fan publication ever made, and if you ever see it on eBay you should snap it up. I don’t even have my copy because it’s with Paul, who conducted this interview with Peter in 1994.)

Enormous thanks to @panto-of-the-opera for typing this interview up for me!

Peter Karrie, interviewed by Paul Day Clemens:

Since falling under the spell of “POTO” (the day the Original London Cast album (OLC) became available in the U.S.) I’ve seen many fine – and a few brilliant – Eriks but only two performers have ever made me feel I was in the actual presence of the Phantom himself. One was Michael Crawford – yes, he really was that special (and you can forget the OLC which is but the palest shadow of what he was like on stage!) – and the other is Peter Karrie.

Commanding, dangerous, elegant, chivalrous and heart rending with an unparalleled physicality and wealth of detail, Peter not only made the role his own, completely, but by some rare and strange alchemy, somehow managed to make me forget I was watching a performance at all.

Thrilled, hypnotized and deeply moved, it was not until visiting with Peter after the show that the full impact of his transformation hit me. How could this warm, funny, soft-spoken, down-to-earth guy possibly be the same man I was watching on stage not an hour before hand?

Therein lies the difference between craft – albeit of a rare excellence – and true inspiration. Dare I even say greatness?

Yeah, I dare. For Mr. Karrie’s Phantom is simply one of the greatest portrayals by an actor in the musical theatre that I’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing.

I had the great pleasure of interviewing Peter at length in December 1994 in Toronto as he was getting ready for the Far East tour of “POTO” and what follows here are never before published excerpts from the interview. – Paul Clemens

Paul Clemens: Do you find that the role of the Phantom makes enormous demands on your voice, in terms of the wear and tear of doing at night after night? If you had a sore throat, for instance, would you be able to get through the show?

Peter Karrie: Yeah. You learn I guess. All professional singers in theatre have to cope with colds and sore throats. Otherwise you’ll be forever off ‘cause it’s a breeding ground of germs. And you develop your voice for stamina over a period of time where you’re doing eight shows a week. You have to. You have to survive it.... So, basically, yeah.

You take the angel [scene] for instance where [the Phantom is] absolutely broken. I’ve had very, very bad laryngitis and I’ve sung that and it sounded great! Simply because you’re breaking down in your voice is all kinds of scuffed up and cracky, you can enact it. But the show takes horrendous wear and tear on the body. It really does. You end up playing mind games with the role.

PC: That’s interesting. How so?

PK: Well, it’s such a powerfully written piece for the actual Phantom. You have to portray a person who’s schizoid, psychotic... and it all sounds very grand and technical. But the actual emotion of it can cut only come from the inside. And so you continue fighting with it.

[Note from Christine posting this in 2021 - Erik isn’t actually schizoid or psychotic (not that either are “bad” things). I know this is pedantic of me to point out, but I pointed it out at the end of Ethan Freeman’s interview from the mid 90s so I’ll point it out here too.]

PC: I imagine you found a core within the character of identification, something you had an understanding of and could feel a great deal of sympathy toward.

PK: Yes. You have to put yourself through the gambit of it. You have to be the Phantom emotionally for that time, and then it comes out quite naturally. You don’t have to think about it.

PC: Do you find, after all the times you played the role – first in London and now in Toronto – that the emotions are still immediate for you?

PK: Oh, yeah. But as I say, there’s wear and tear. When the mind gets tired then you find you get into problems.

PC: How do you keep the role fresh?

PK: There are all types of hand holds all the way along, from the time you start ‘til the time you finish. I guess the majority of it is set in the rehearsal room where you rehearse at a certain level into a certain standard, and it becomes automatic. But each show will always be different because you have a different audience, different weather conditions, you have different musicians playing in the pit, you have different people you’re playing opposite. So you will always get a variation on the theme. And so that, coupled up with what you’ve put together in rehearsal so you get a fairly high standard of performance every night, merges together. And so you do get a different show every night. But, as I say, it’s a very wearing role. More so than Jean Valjean, where you’re virtually on stage for three and a half hours. But I find the Phantom far more draining.

PC: I can imagine. Whenever you’re on stage you’re at peak intensity and you run the emotional gamut. So that, combined with the vocal demands, must make for one walloping experience.

PK: Exactly.... That, coupled with the exposure. You’re so exposed on stage. Whenever the Phantom does appear, it’s either him on his own, or it’s him with Christine, and something powerful and moving is happening. He doesn’t appear with the chorus – barring the “Masquerade.”

PC: For that reason, a number of the actors who have played the role have complained about a sense of loneliness and isolation. I wondered if you felt that way about it?

PK: No, I haven’t felt that. But I’ve always mingled with the rest of the cast and crew. I can’t abide all this keeping the door shut. So we open the door and play rock and roll music.

PC: Do you ever feel hampered by all the makeup involved?

PK: You get used to it. Totally. In fact, there are times when you forgotten you’ve got the mask on in the wig lady has to ask you for it. And you think ‘What? I’ve already given it to you!’

PC: That’s right – you wouldn’t be able to feel it, would you? Because it’s actually touching the appliances rather than your face.

PK: You feel it slightly. You know, if you first put it on you’d know it’s there. But after a while... But the wire band ‘round the head lets you know it’s there! And the edge of it catches you sometimes. But no – it becomes part of you. And as for the lip which is built up top and bottom ‘round your mouth, you get used to that as well.

PC: Has it ever come loose during a performance?

PK: Oh, God yeah! We’ve had some great moments where it’s been hanging off. That’s a bit gross. And the bald cap’s come loose in the back, so you do the Second Lair with one hand ‘rounds the back of your head holding your bald cap in place? [laughs] Yeah, you’ve got some good moments.

PC: How did you find the voice which is so distinctive?

PK: Well, that, once again came from the feeling inside. It was like once you had all that stuff on, and I discovered the walk, and kind of latched onto his intention, the voice just followed.

PC: Your interpretation of the line “You try my patience“ is unforgettable. So chilling. I was wondering how that evolved.

PK: Well, I felt that was the climax of the man. That, literally, for me, is where he turns ‘round and he’s at the actual peak of his hate, his frustration. I knew I had to find something which made that moment special. It was set to be special by the music and the way it was directed. That was the key to the man.

PC: It’s as if your voice came from some deep well – as if it bubbled up from some deep, dark place.

PK: That’s right! That’s exactly how I felt it. And then when Christine kisses him it’s like he can’t believe it. “I’ve won!” That euphoric feeling... “She can suffer this face! I think I’ve got her! I think, yes, she does love me!” And then, as he reaches out to touch her... a moment.... He’s taken in the scene of Raoul hanging as he went back to her... and then, all of a sudden, it struck a chord.... “Hang on....” And then the realization hits him: “She’s just doing it for him. She’s literally giving me her self to save him. She loves him... She can never love me the same as she loves him.” And it’s all a kind of mental game there. And you’ve only got split seconds to get the audience in on it, so he has to be kind of demonstrative in his actions.

PC: After the kiss, there was a moment where you sort of winced, pulling away from her twice like a wounded animal, your right arm almost becoming spastic... there were so many levels, all going simultaneously.

PK: He’s coming to terms. All these thoughts are rushing through his head and he’s off balance. Everything has shaken him and he’s lost his façade of “everything-under-control.”

PC: And the body is breaking down.

PK: That’s right. He’s been stripped of everything just by having to face himself – and face the truth. That one clear moment where he realizes this is wrong – this is all wrong – this is not how it should be.

PC: And when the phantom cries “GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!” – you built each word into a series of escalating crescendos which was tremendously effective, I thought. Very powerful.

PK: It’s all the process of him actually coming to terms with himself. It’s as you say – one after another, one after the other – then finally she’s gone and he’s left.... This is after she’s given him the ring and she’s gone... And he looks... and he sees the empty throne. And he knows that’s all his life is.

PC: That’s very moving. Do you ever find that the final words – “It’s over now the Music of the Night” – are difficult to get out with all the emotion you’re experiencing?

PK: I did at the beginning, yeah. Sometimes I used to get caught up in it, which is a dreadfully dangerous thing, ‘cause then everything tightens up and you get the proverbial lump in your throat.

PC: It’s sort of walking a bit of a tight rope, isn’t it?

PK: Yeah! [laughs] That’s right. And then there’s a moment where I can get space to subdue all that and concentrate on doing the last bit. That’s where he’s got the veil in his hand and she’s in the boat comin’ across the back singing with Raoul and I say “Christine I love you” very, very quietly, and very broken, and then I can take some breaths which calm it all down and get myself kind of poised for the last bit. ‘Cause that’s gotta be kind of the statement: “You alone can make my song take flight.” That is the statement of release. It’s like a rhetorical statement – you will always be the music of my life. And therefore I can’t change it.” It’s that feeling he’s got in his body. He bends over backwards. And then the final moment is where he turns around and wipes it clean. And he does it in a far stronger attitude than anything else he does... “It’s over now the Music of the Night.”

PC: I’ve read that you feel he’s starting a new life at that point.

PK: Yes! Yes... When I’m walking to the chair, I let the veil just drop behind, and I think to myself “It’s over. Now what else is there? There must be something else... It’s over.” And you do it with such a final flourish – the cape and everything – you’re back in control of yourself. You’ve had the osmosis. You’ve come out of the one period of your life which actually threatened to ruin you, and you’re now standing on the threshold of another one.

PC: Oh yes. It’s wonderful to hear what’s going through your mind as you’re doing the scene. And the impact of that final scene is tremendous. Do you have a favourite scene in the show?

PK: That would be it. ‘Cause it’s only six minutes long, that Second Lair. And in that six minutes you literally travel from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. It’s a whole journey.

MORE BELOW... Keep reading, it’s a long interview, with plenty more thoughts and content about Phantom, including some really funny classic mishaps.

PC: The show obviously touches a universal cord in many of its audience members, sometimes to the extent that a bracket (sizable) number of people see the show again and again. Men and women openly moved to tears by the play are common sight in Phantom’s audiences. And yet, paradoxically, a substantial number of critics have charged the show with having no heart.

PK: I think they’re being very unkind. There are some Phantoms – just as there are leading men and women in any show – who do not commit themselves quite as much as they should do.

PC: I’ve seen that it does make a difference in the overall impact of the show.

PK: It makes a big difference, yeah. ‘Cause eight times a week to commit yourself to it to it as it should be done is hard work. But once you get used to it and once you get into it you can’t do it any other way. At least I can’t. They said to me many times, like when you’re feeling rough or whatever, “Can you mark it a little bit? You know just take it easy. You don’t have to give one hundred percent.” But you see, it’s not a question of giving that. That’s just the way I do it. If I start altering that, I am altering a lot more than just singing a lift show. You’re altering a thought process which I can’t control. I wish I could mark it. It would be a lot bloody easier! But you can’t. You have to do it as you do it when you do it, and that’s it.

PC: I believe you hold the record for the most injuries sustained by any actor playing the role.

PK: Touch wood it’s never been completely death-defying! [laughs]

PC: Is it true that you asked if you could actually ride the chandelier down to the stage at the end of Act One?

PK: Yes. But I’m afraid the insurance people did not exactly share my enthusiasm for the idea.

PC: The stories about technical mishaps are legion. Can you relate some of the more memorable moments along those lines that you can recall?

PK: Well... there’s been so many of them now. There’re many, many boat stories. And the same thing happen to Colm, has happened to Michael, has happened to ‘em all. The boat has a life of its own. The monkey also has a life of its own. That can be very temperamental... I’ve had some excitement in the Angel, where people have tripped over wires and tipped it up while you’re inside it, and you’re hangin’ on for grim death... I fallen off the proscenium, yeah...

PC: [laughs] you say that so cavalierly.

PK: [laughing] Cracked a couple of legs and so forth. And the Star-Trap, the same thing. I’ve fallen down that the wrong way... In London one day, the Star-Trap didn’t open at all. So you did the “Your chains are still mine – you will sing for me,” and threw the cape – I always threw the Cape up to make a trail as you go down the Star-Trap. So the trail came down and I hadn’t gone anywhere. In the cloak – they had a bigger cloak for the Masquerade then – and it just piles on top of me. And I couldn’t get it off because you’ve got the mask on. So it ended up with the two managers having to lead me off! [laughing] I mean, here you’ve got this dreadful creature saying [puts on a creepy voice] “Your chains are still mine – you will sing for me!” And then, all of a sudden, the managers are saying [whispers] “Come on! This way, this way!”

PC: [laughs] In one of the U.S. Touring Company performances, the Punjab lasso failed to work, and so Raoul just fell to the floor and lay there writhing as if he were in the grip of some supernatural force.

PK: [laughs] many times things go wrong with a bloody lasso! One time I was over here in Toronto, Byron Nease [Raoul] all of a sudden acted like an invisible hand had gripped him ‘round the throat – the noose was nowhere, it was on the floor many miles away from him – but he’s going [Karrie makes some strangling sounds] and it was as though he was being thrown—forced backwards! And he got to the grill and his hands came outstretched and he was like held there by and invisible force...

PC: Yes – the “magnetic grill!“

PK: Yeah! And I just looked at him and I started laughing. it was like a three act play to get him to the back of this grill...! But I think the funniest thing is words. The things people say. Quite innovative and inventive. I remember when I was in the wings doing the “seal my fate tonight...” and sometimes your mind wanders. It’s that mind-game I mentioned about concentration. You have to keep focused all the time – blah blah blah. And so I’m saying “seal my fate tonight... I hate to have to cut the prisoner short...” Prisoner short? Prisoner short? And I thought, no, that can’t be right. And I’m thinking that while I continue singing... And the words have gone ‘cause I’m singing “but the ducks warring in...” And I said “ducks warring in??? – By now I’ve turned away from the monitor ‘cause I’m singing on an off-stage mike – and I’m lookin’ at my dressers. And I’m waving to them as if to say “Tell me the words! What are the words??” And now I’m singing “Let my destiny ride, ‘cause my music’s afire!” And I sang it as though I’d been singing those words all my life! Loud... And of course I’m falling around. And the conductor – I can see on the monitor – he’s laughing and waving! The baton had gone to hell!!

PC: [laughing] That’s marvelous!

PK: But what was the funniest thing what the poor people on stage! ‘Cause you had the managers and everybody else all walking ‘round in this trance – like, floaty, floaty choreography. And all of a sudden, as soon as I got to “ducks warring in” – by all accounts – they as if on cue, turned up stage; all of their backs to the audience! And they all walked to the back of the stage! And they’re all laughing and laughing, ‘cause it got it worse and worse. The more I was singin’ the wrong words the more they were laughing! ...And when I came on for my bows that night, all the course we’re going “Quack, quack!” ...So the next night I got changed I did my sound-check, and all of a sudden there’s a call over the tannoy for a meeting in the greenroom. And I went there, and I thought, well, somebody must be coming down to see us. And all of a sudden, over the gentle hubbub in the greenroom, I could hear on the tannoy my voice doing this “cut the prisoner short, but the ducks warring in...” and everybody started laughing. And then all of a sudden, the company manager showed up and presented me with a cassette – they record every show, you see – and the company had the words printed up and framed, and they presented it to me with the cassette. And that’s how I know the words so well!

PC: I’d love to hear that sometime!

PK: I learned from a very early age that if you’re gonna sing the wrong words, sing them as loud and convincingly as possible. And everyone in the building will think you’re right and everybody else is wrong.

PC: Of course. Because that if they haven’t seen the show before, they’re not going to know.

PK: That’s right. It’s so true, because I had people in that night for that magic moment, and they didn’t know anything was wrong at all.

PC: [laughs] Be honest with me – are you tired of the music after all this time? For example if you’re in an elevator and you hear a song from Phantom do you just want to scream?

PK: No. I get out of the elevator. You do try to escape from it after doing eight shows a week... A number of times we’ll go into a restaurant ,] my wife Jane and myself, and we’ll sit there. And all of a sudden you’ll hear the music come on – Phantom. And you think, oh God! You don’t want to be reminded of it when you’re out enjoying yourself. But I’m not tired of the music when I’m performing it.

PC: You’re about to take Phantom to Singapore and Hong Kong. I understand that their audiences tend to be rather formal. I believe it is considered disrespectful to make too big a display of appreciation. That will be quite a change for you. How do you think you’re going to handle it?

PK: I did a satellite link up the other day with about forty reporters from the Far East, and the same questions came up then – “How are you going to cope with the way Singaporean and Hong Kong audiences show their appreciation?” And I told him as long as they enjoy the show, I don’t care... It’s quite funny actually, because when I started off working in Britain, I used to do clubs in the Northeast which is the hardest area prefer performer to work in. [laughs] The miners – it’s a big mining area – and they didn’t used to applaud. They threw ashtrays onto the stage.

PC: [laughing] Ashtrays?!

PK: That’s right. You do a Sunday lunchtime and they’d all be sitting reading the Sunday newspapers. You walk onto the stage and there’d just be a sea of newspapers. And at the end of the number, if they liked you they drop one hand onto the table, pick up the ashtray and throw it onto the stage as a mark of respect. Or are they’d just bang the table with one hand two or three times. But still, never, never, did they come out from behind the newspaper. Not unless the performer was of the female variety.

PC: [laughs] Your rock band – Peter and the Wolves – how long did that last?

PK: About four years, I think.

PC: Are there any records available?

PK: I doubt it. What records were made have probably long since been turned into ashtrays!

PC: To be thrown on stage by miners, no doubt! ...Well ,a final question: in Phantom, when you’re up in the Angel, do you ever feel a mad desire to plunge headfirst into the audience?

PK: No. Quite the opposite.

PC: Not a serious question, but I appreciate the answer nonetheless.

PK: The desire to jump off is never further from my mind.

PC: Sometimes I wonder the way you move around up there!

PK: [laughs] It does get a bit hairy up there sometimes! But it depends on which way it swings. If it swings left to right, you’re okay, but if it swings front to back then ya’ got trouble!

PC: This has been a delightful interview, Peter. Thank you.

PK: My pleasure.

- Paul Clemens

#peter karrie #poto #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #classic phantoms #phantom legends #musicals #musical theater fandom #musical theatre

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sneezemonster15 · 3 years

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I have a lot of mixed feelings about how Sakura is generally perceived by the Naruto fandom. I haven't been here for very long, but it's an understatement to say that man, they hate her. I guess apart from Sakura stans or SS stans (who I am not even going to give much space here because their reading comprehension of content is below par and almost unbelievably projectional), when almost every other subcategory of this fandom, even the dudebro kind, just like, abhors Sakura, like the stuff is pure vitriol.

But I am trying to be thoroughly objective here.

Throughout part 1, I can honestly say she appeared to be a character who was self absorbed, spoilt, skin deep and childish. But the thing is, she Was a child. At that point, I knew that I had long way to go towards the end of the show, so I knew being one of the supposed main characters, she would go through an arc, and possibly grow up. I couldn't begrudge her coming of age.

During the initial part of Shippuden, I could see that Sakura had grown up in some way. She definitely had matured to some extent. She had a better grasp of her emotions over losing Sasuke than Naruto at this point. She even comforts Naruto and defends him against Sai, and I kinda liked that moment despite myself ( I for one never liked Sakura but was willing to give her a chance at redemption at this point, well that and anyone defending Naruto gets a little bit on my good side). She was training hard. Even if it was unoriginal, she was kinda doing her own thing. I thought, hmm that isn't so bad. She makes a few bad choices, but she is also adjusting to new and improved Naruto in team seven, new responsibilities. Yes, she is not the best fighter but c'mon man, she was literally put in a team with two of the mightiest ninjas of all time, and it wasn't her decision. She was liable to feel insecure. Cut her some slack. Compared to team seven, all the other teams anyway look like benchwarmers.

It's mostly what happens after Sasuke is condemned as a terrorist that made me lose all hope for her. One bad decision after the other in this arc (and all the other arcs after this one). This convinced me Kishi had had enough of this half hearted development at this point, he just went like fuck it, it's time for fucking War, let's get fucking on it! This is where his SNS was going to shine after the long hiatus and overflowing anticipation of Naruto and Sasuke teaming up together (I mean just look at the ridiculous build up of their upcoming team up at the war, Kishi brought out all the big guns, the former hokages for Sasuke's entry, hahaha awesome. Then Sasuke and Naruto's own fights, especially the final one, just look at what the animation people did, the fucking detail, the atmos, the sound design, lord damn). Because let's be honest, it's battle manga.

After that, at such an advanced stage of the series, Kishimoto just like...spat on her 'legacy' over and over again in the war arc. Like it was almost painful. After Everything, when Sasuke slams his hand in her torso and puts her in his horrible genjutsu, just because she would have tried to stop him from getting hurt, I was like my God Kishi stop already! You have made your point! She may not be perceptive, but that was way too harsh. In terms of commensurate action- reaction, that was just way too much for a reasonable Sasuke to do, who btw had already had a pretty good time (all things considered) at the war fighting big bad villains alongside his 'best buddy' and had kinda temporarily come out of his Karin-killing phase. He certainly had the calm of mind to pleasurably mock Sakura and Kakashi now and again.

Well, Sakura had lost all credibility at this point of time and the ending of series was obviously forced. I see no point in even talking about it.

This is how I see it.

Now to come to my point. It's disturbing to see the amount of hate she gets from almost all factions. She is objectively written as a negative character, yes. Also yes, that I get how easy it is to get so invested in characters so as to find the lines a little blurred and one could perhaps project too much.

But some of it is just like, it crosses boundaries.

I get mad at Kishi for a lot of things, one of them being writing major female characters so badly, it made me detest those characters this much. Btw, this goes for both Sakura and Hinata. In fact, I find Hinata's character worse than Sakura's.

I understand why Sakura gets so much hate. But just the way some people choose to portray this hate makes me doubt if they like or sympathize with any character for the right reasons.

I could be wrong. But it takes a lot of energy to hate this much. I am just amazed at this extent of commitment.

From what I have observed, I think a lot of people in this fandom, including me, dislike Sakura because of the way she totally undermined her role amd significance in the story since so much was expected of her at the start, she was the only female member of team seven.

She was supposed to be a clever kunoichi (she literally just stands there during so many battles and cries), maybe a genjutsu expert (well..she ain't), someone who would eventually grow out of her fangirl phase (she never did), someone who would be more perceptive of other people (was literally responsible for Sasuke's attempt of killing her), someone who could be selfless for once (every attempt at proposing to Sasuke says not so much), someone who could fight alongside Sasuke and Naruto on her own terms (what can I say, she tries but it's pretty obvious how coloured her motivations are by the two bois; dudebros have a lot of fun with this).

Finally, someone who wasn't so oblivious. Like how is it possible that she didn't know Sasuke was an orphan! Like seriously! There's a whole ass scene where kids in class are openly talking about the massacre.

Kishi being so deliberate with it in this episode where Sakura mocks Naruto for being an orphan, he just didn't wanna give her a chance, he straight up wanted to establish the Real equation of team seven really early on. This is where he does it for the first time in the series, like blatantly. It is, what just the third episode maybe? Hahahha. He is so slick about it, that tease (but like also, most creators will establish the central theme of the series right away. So as to build tension and anticipation. In films, always pay attention to the first frame or the first sequence. It usually says much more than what's observed at first glance, anyway I digress). I find this episode really enlightening in terms of how Kishi wanted us to know that things were not what they seemed so we better start engaging with the content right away.

Sadly, Sakura could never be any of those things. Kishi never gave her a break. I kinda find it sad.

#haruno sakura #sakura #narutomanga #naruto shippuden #naruto #sasuke #analysis #naruto analysis

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sassybirdmanandhisangstywife · 3 years

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Ok fanfiction time! So this one is an alternate ending for the first movie in Diaval’s POV. It starts right after Maleficent kisses Aurora and breaks the curse. All events before the start of the fanfiction are the same as they are in the movie. Essentially, what happens if Stephan survives? With Maleval of course because why not. This is my first fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Chapter 1

The Battle

We were losing.

Mistress, Aurora, and I were running through the castle, trying to get out before we were discovered. Now that Aurora was free of the curse (heh, no true love) we needed to leave. But I was so glad Aurora was awake I didn’t bother to check the throne room before we entered, and now Stephan’s soldiers circled around us, and Mistress was trapped under an iron net. Fucking iron. I thought it wasn’t possible to hate that self serving royal bastard any more than I already did, but in that moment my fury doubled. Worst of all, I couldn’t do anything to stop it, as I was stuck as a useless raven just when I was needed most. I pecked and scratched at the soldiers with everything I had, but as I couldn’t get through their iron armor (iron, always iron!). I was nothing more than a nuisance. At least Aurora was considered to be Stephan’s daughter, so she would be safe. That thought was my only comfort, for I was facing certain death as soon as the soldiers finished with Mistress. But then, I saw a small gleam of hope in Mistress’ eyes, and just before she passed out (at least I hope that’s all it was) she said

“Into a dragon”

Gold magic shot towards me, and I was enveloped inside. The usual excruciating pain followed, but at this moment I didn’t care. Now I was a dragon, powerful enough to protect those I cared for. Immediately I threw the net off of Mistress, praying she was still alive, and then I attacked. Breathing fire left and right, I protected my Mistress from harm. Soon enough, Mistress thankfully awoke and flung herself into battle as well. But it was not meant to be. The soldiers quickly covered me in iron chains, causing great pain as even without fae blood, literal tons of iron was painful for anyone. Mistress however, was inside a circle of soldiers, each holding a massive iron shield (seriously where do they get all of it??). Suddenly, he walked in. Stephan. Filled with new rage, I released a huge fireball his way before I was muzzled by yet another iron chain. Stephan meanwhile, dodged my blast and stepped into the ring of soldiers almost entirely covered in iron himself. He jeered at Mistress, believing he had won. And honestly, I was worried he was right.

Stephan lunged at Mistress with his sword (can you guess what it was made out of?). Thankfully, Mistress dodged his attack, but seeing as she couldn’t counter magically with all of this iron, we all knew she wouldn’t last long. Desperately, I fought to free myself from the soldier’s chains, but they held fast. In that moment I was grateful dragons couldn’t cry, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to see. I couldn’t just sit there and let her die. She has to live! If only for Aurora’s sake. Just as Stephan raised his sword to strike the final blow, something shot into the room and went straight for Mistress. She was lifted into the air and surrounded by her magic, although I didn’t think she had a hand in this. After a moment, she was set down, and she had her wings. I couldn’t believe it. She had them back! And ravens was she stunning. I looked to where the wings had come from, and there was Aurora, standing in the doorway, looking as shocked as I felt. Did she bring Mistress’ wings? There was no time to determine an answer, as Mistress flew down with those gorgeous wings of hers, grabbed Stephan, and threw them both out of the throne room’s window.

I hoped she would be alright, but right now I had to protect myself and Aurora from the hoard of soldiers, who had turned their attentions to me now that Mistress was gone. Luckily my tail was still free, so I shot it out from my body and wrapped it around Aurora like a cobra. I pulled her back and literally took her under my wing. With cries of “it’s got the princess!” (Really, IT!?) the soldiers attacked with even more force. I fought valiantly, but there were too many and I was far too weak. Soon enough they took out one of my forelegs, which caused me to fall to my side, exposing both Aurora and my delicate underside. I launched my tail into the air to keep my fledgling out of reach, but my belly suffered the consequences. Iron weapons speared themselves into me in an attempt to end my life, but I had to keep fighting. I had to protect Aurora! Just as I was about to black out, Mistress swept into the room, gold magic crackling around her form. She spoke with all the confidence in the world.

“Lay down your weapons at once! Stephan is dead, with no one to blame for it, which means his kingdom should be passed on to his-“ she gagged a little. “daughter Aurora. Let her speak, and I will adhere to whatever her judgement may be”

The soldiers conversed amongst themselves, seemingly debating whether to agree to Mistress’ terms. Finally, their captain spoke up.

“How do we know we can trust you”

Maleficent gave the captain what looked to me like an expression of respect, but I must have been delirious because that couldn’t possibly have actually happened.

“Because I broke Aurora’s curse.”

“That’s impossible, a witch like you would never-“

“How dare you insult my godmother?!” Came a shout from above.

Everyone turned to see Aurora, still wrapped in my tail high above the ground, calling out to the captain with anger written all across her face.

“Your- what?” The captain said, not willing to believe his ears.

“My godmother.” Came the reply. “You will not insult her. Nor will you attack her or Diaval” she gestured to my near limp form “any longer. Lay down your weapons, and let’s settle this peacefully!”

Everyone in the room was shocked at Aurora’s speech, even Mistress. My little fledgling really has grown up. It’s enough to make an old bird cry. But I didn’t really have the energy for that now. In fact, I don’t think I have the energy to even stay conscious much longer. With a pitiful moan, I gratefully placed Aurora on the ground and let my tail go limp. Mistress would keep her safe, and besides, I’m starting to think my fledgling can handle herself. Mistress however, quickly turned her attention to me after hearing my quite pathetic groans.

“Diaval are you alright?” She asked worriedly. Normally I would voice a quip, such as “really Mistress do you honestly need to ask me that?”, but since I was a dragon I merely stared in what I hoped was a mischievous way at her. She got a better look at my wounds, and Mistress’ eyes widened before she could stop them.

“Beastie come here quickly!” She shouted, and Aurora came running.

“Godmother what i- oh DIAVAL!” She said, and began frantically gathering soldiers to remove the iron weapons they had just finished jamming inside of me (karma’s a bitch). They hurriedly did so, mostly because of the scathing glares Mistress gave each and every one of them. Mistress herself was having a difficult time letting humans help me, especially the ones who caused this problem in the first place, but seeing as she herself couldn’t touch the iron she didn’t have much choice. After the swords, the soldiers moved on to the many, many chains I had wrapped around me. I couldn’t stop myself from pathetically roaring in pain as the soldiers preformed many of the tasks. Aurora winced at every shout, so I bit back most of my screams for her (and my pride’s) sake. When it was finished, Mistress shooed (that being a rather tame term for it) the soldiers out of the throne room, an order to which they hastily complied. Mistress gently placed her hands on my snout and let her magic flow slowly across my body and heal the worst of my injuries. Normally she could fix me up until it looked like no battle had touched me, but her power was drained due to her own wounds and all of the iron still in this room! I sighed internally. This will definitely leave a few marks on my beautiful self

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you my friend.” Mistress said quietly, her words meant only for my ears.

“Will he be alright Godmother?” Aurora asked.

“Yes Aurora, but he will need to remain a dragon until my magic is strengthened and I can do more to heal him, otherwise his injuries could grow even worse”

I gave a snort at that. There was no way in the Moors Mistress couldn’t turn me back, she just didn’t want to hear the I told you so lecture I had planned about true love when I could talk again.

“Good to see your sense of humor’s still intact” Mistress said with a chuckle, and that was the last thing I heard before slipping into unconsciousness (alright I admit, maybe she really couldn’t turn me back yet).

#maleficent #diaval #aurora #stephan #maleval #fanfiction

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kareofbears · 3 years

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persona 5 strikers thoughts and feelings

This is going to be a long post. Like, the type of post you’d only really have time to read when you’re trying to sleep but you’re not ready to be unconscious yet so you’re just looking for something to do to spend your time with minimal effort.

So in 2018, a masterpiece was born into the world: Into the Spider-verse was released and it was amazing—it’s honestly the best spiderman movie we have without a doubt, and it’ll be very far into the future before Spider-verse is beaten as the best spiderman movie. Them’s the facts. Then in 2019, Spider-man: Far From Home was dropped. It’s a great movie! Great characters, great continuation of who these characters are and works fantastic as a continuation of a story. It’s really hard trying to take the torch of a previous movie (or in Marvel’s case, juggling twenty something movies) and come up with a new movie that both works on its own, as well as being the next step in this series of films. Thus, with that idea in mind, I think it’s kind of unfair to judge into the spiderverse and far from home, because these are two movies with two completely different objectives in mind.

Okay, so this is still a persona 5 strikers post, I promise, but the idea is the same: Persona 5 could basically do whatever it wanted—new story, new characters, new everything, and it’s just plain old awesome. However, Persona 5 strikers did not have that sort of freedom. It was bound to the original game, and it had its own rules and stuff it had to keep intact, characters they had to work with, and on top of that, it had to justify its existence as a sequel (lets pretend money doesnt exist lmfao).

SO, the big question is: did it do that? Did it justify its existence?

And my answer: holy fuck did it ever do that

I came into this game knowing the extreme bare minimum. I knew there was someone named Sophia, and i knew there was roadtrip, and i knew there were Personas. That’s my knowledge of it before i played it on the Switch. I should also clarify like, early on, that i was not expecting anything from this game. At all. I was the world’s biggest cynic of this game—if you scroll down my p5s tag far enough, youll just see me complaining about a game that hasn’t even come out yet. I was fully expecting to have this be a Waifu show, and any male character that isn’t Akira to just be shoved aside like some kind of nerd in a high school hallway, and i have never been more pleased to be wrong. In fact, i actually owe it an apology, because of how fucking rude i was for no reason!!! Because this game deserves everything to be honest.

Persona 5 strikers is, frankly, insane. Insane in the sense that it got to pull shit off that just would never have existed in the original game, because the original game is scared. It had to be as impressive as possible and garner as much attention as possible. Strikers does not have that problem—every single person who bought that game does not need to be convinced that persona 5 is a good game. They already played it. That means Atlus can just fuck around and have a good time, and man did they have a good time. There’s still scenes that still shock me if i think about it too hard, because i’m used to atlus having to follow this sort of rule set when it comes to persona 5 (or any of the main games im assuming, but i havent played them.) And on top of that, there’s still shit that’s Atlus Trademarked Branded in a good way. The style of story of story telling, and revealing the mystery that is so integral to what p5 is, is still there.

So, to make this even a little bit comprehensible, i will make a list!

First of all, What is this game?

In short, this game is an OVA of an anime. It’s bonus side content that has one thing in mind: to showcase these lovable characters more by putting them in fun situations. That’s it, and it is just phenomenal. That was the main point of, i’d say, like forty hours of the game. It’s just fun times with fun characters.

But to get deeper of what i think is happening, or what they were thinking during the development, is that this is a second opportunity. Persona 5 (as we all know) had a lot of problems, and we were not quiet about those problems. We yelled it all out, made posts, made complaints on every social media platform ever. And Atlus heard all of them, and Strikers is a way to mitigate those mistakes. Aside from being a fun OVA, Strikers also works to be a deeper exploration of these characters—more specifically, the characters that did not receive much in the original game. Creating this sequel is having the ability to redo what they felt (or to be more specific, we felt) in the original game while adding new ones. I will get to that in a second.

The format of the game

Absolutely brilliant to throw them on a road trip. P5V already forced us to experience Shibuya for 200+ hours, and im so glad that they didn’t do that again. Going from town to town, making us experience these new places alongside our favorite characters is so good, and it just makes sense. It’s fun, it’s lighthearted, and it’s actually shockingly good. But one thing i do want to talk about early on is the way the story unfolds and the villains that they use, and what they do with it because it’s very interesting.

So as we explore japan and stuff, we encounter jails, and with those jails comes an antagonist. This antagonist works to be a parallel to one of our characters. That character will find it in their hearts to feel bad for the antagonist, because the antagonist could have been them had the original game not happen. At first I thought all of the thieves were gonna get an antagonist, and i was really hyped for the ryuji one. And then came to hour forty of the game where i realized “yeah that’s not gonna happen. There’s just not enough time.” And i was right, and the game ended. But i am not salty at all, honestly, because the people who got a direct antagonist were: Ann, Yusuke, and Haru. (we wont count zen and sophie).

Is there a trend??? Yes. these are all characters in the original game that have received the worst treatment by atlus. The three of them are basically cast aside the minute they finished their original arc, and its horrible! BUT that’s why this is the path that atlus chose for them—to give them more depth, and screentime, and a way to show their inner self. That isn’t to say that the ones who aren’t those three (makoto, futaba, mona, akira, ryuji) didn’t get anything. Futaba still has her thing at the end with ichinose, and she was very prevalent and animated during the rest of the game. Mona and Akira have to be a focal points, that’s just the nature of the game. The other two though, I will talk about in depth in a second.

Makoto

Y’all i poke fun at shumako fans sometimes cause its kind of easy and fun, but i honestly love makoto. In my very first playthrough of p5 (my first ever jrpg game, first persona game, i had no idea what i was doing), i had only maxed out two characters: ryuji and makoto. And i know she had a lot of screentime and love in the original game which is great, but i truly felt like she was dissed in this game. Her only roles were

A driver

Someone to tell them “we don’t have a choice. Let’s keep going and see where this takes us.” (seriously, if you replay this game, you will see how much she does this)

Idk, i just wish she had more to do, especially compared to how much love they gave the other characters.

But let’s talk about some of the new characters!

Zenkichi

Damn you atlus. Damn you and your insistence at bringing in cop characters. I was fully on board with hating zenkichi, i was fucking ready for it. I was convinced that there was nothing they could do convince to like zenkichi. I was immune to their copaganda.

And then i ended up loving him, which makes me sad a little bit. I didn’t realize how desperate i was to have an adult who has a persona. Someone who wants the world to change just as much as they do, while still having that aspect of them that makes them adult. Like??? As someone who is technically an adult, its a breath of fresh air. An adult. Who fights. For justice. Using a persona. And god i love akane so much, and her obsession with the thieves (that scene is probably in my top ten fave scenes of the game). Also what i loved about zenkichi is that he fucking hates the cops!! He hates the system of the cops!! And thats why i actually really started to love him!! Because i thought it was atlus saying that the systematic problem of the police cannot be solved by one person, and zenkichi threw away his badge. I actually cried at that part!!

But then he became a cop again, and i was just :/ but as a character, i really love him to bits and would love to do a study on him, or at least use him as an outside pov. But! i absolutely love his persona, since im a les miserables fan hehe

Sophia

she’s probably my favorite new aspect of the game. I was ready to not like her—again, i just suck like that, lmfao—and when i saw her, i was scared that she was just another waifu. I mean, she was very cute after all. But then as the game went on, i thought she was a little too cute. And even further into the game, i finally slapped myself in the face and realized oh my god shes not a waifu. Shes a sister.

That blew my mind, im ngl to you. A female character that isn’t supposed to be romanced? By jove, what a miracle!

And she…is an amazing character. Im sorry, i just love her so much. I love her so much that she probably ranks as my fifth or sixth favorite character which is surprising even to me. Everything about her is delightful and invigorating. She’s funny??? Her comedic timing is amazing, and she has such chemistry with the rest of the team. She’s actually useful to the plot, and while her character design is a little too on the nose for me in terms of cuteness (i mean, good god she’s wearing oversized sweater to show how cute and tiny she is, and her hair has literal hearts in it), she is absolutely lovable.

But what i actually really wanna gush about for a second is sophia at the last stage of the game. You get the idea, i dont really like to get excited over things, so at this point i figured that there was nothing this game could do to shock me.

And then sophia had a persona awakening.

Like. holy fuck did i yell. I didnt realize what was happening until the music had already kicked in. and its just so fucking smart!!! Sophia??? The ai?? With no heart?? gOT A PERSONA???? AWAKENING??? BECAUSE SHE LEARNED WHAT THE HEART IS AND THE PASSION THAT YOU NEED IN ORDER TO GET A PERSONA??? I started crying honestly, because it was just so smart. And looking back on it now, its obvious!! Of course it would lead to this, it only made sense that the culmination of her character arc leads to her getting a persona, nothing else would have been as good. Also, her voice actor is just amazing?? When she was talking to ichinose at the end, i actually got incredibly emotional because of the line reads. Its just so spot on and it really captures the essence of sophia.

Muah. five stars Atlus. You got me.

Ryuji <3!!!!

Oh man. Oh boy. Okay. so where do i start.

Yall know i love him. Hes probably my favorite fictional male character of all time, and he is the one i was the absolute most cynical about in this game. I was expecting literally nothing. Nothing. Like. nothing. I thought he was just gonna keep being used as a joke, or a gag, and he’s gonna be super horny all the time for the other girls and it was gonna make me mad and there was gonna be some insane homophobic/queerphobic jokes in every other scene and i know i was being unfair, but i cant help it.

And then i played the first two hours of the game, and i cried the entire time. Because ryuji has never been better than he is in this game. Its crazy.

The ryuji in persona 5 strikers is who ryuji should have been/how he should have been treated this entire time. From the actual funny jokes (for example, the gold bar joke + his reaction to it in the beginning of the game), defending his female friends instead of being the one people need to defend from (natsume arc), and the fact that he was the one to be there with morgana and akira in the very beginning of the game. Its such a small thing that they didnt even need to do, but it was such an integral part of the original game for me, that i just was convinced that nothing like this was going to happen. But then it happened. Its just small stuff like that that could have been overlooked but it wasn’t because this game? Persona 5 strikers? Fucking loves ryuji.

The actual respect they gave this boy is insane and i wasn't ready for it. Like, they gave the shujin trio lunch, they gave the little charm of the katana when they were in natsume’s jail, and, in my opinion this is the second-best thing that they could have given ryuji is sophia. Ryuji and sophia are the pinnacle of a brother & sister bonding relationship in the game that isn’t akira & futaba. And its really prevalent too?? Small stuff from the beginning of the game (pulling her out of a jail, calling her shorty), but then you have the iconic “shut the fuck up” scene, and that scene was so well characterized and written and voice acted, that somehow him saying “fuck” was the least exciting part of that scene to me. Ryuji is an older brother to her, like its undoubtable, and its only further cemented at the end of the game where Ryuji helps out ichinose because he knows how much sophia cares about her. This game. Love ryuji. And i love. This game.

You know what else i love? Akiryu.

Guys. i was fully prepared to starve in terms of akiryu. But theres just. So much of it. I wont get too deep into it, because i think this aspect of the game for me still needs marinate a little bit. Like, what was that last shot when EMMA died and Ryuji walked to approach Akira so they could relish in their victory together?? And the smile from both of them??? What the fuck. That was amazing. Also Joker being saved by Ryuji when he was about to fall from the cliff to save sophia??? WHAT. The LEADER AND HIS RIGHT HAND MAN? WHAT. anyway. If theres anything i want to keep for myself in my own brain, its the akiryu aspect of this game, so i wont talk too much about that part of things (instead, itll probably manifest in fic lmfaooo).

Sure, there’s tidbits of stuff i dont like that they gave ryuji: sexualizing ann in that one cut scene and making him touch the jails even though it hurts, and i recognize those and frown at them, but for the most part, i am blown away with how they treated him.

Basically, Ryuji has never been better. From the opening of the game with him being the first text message and the one to sling his arm around akira, to the very last cut scene where it was ryuji wordlessly leaving because he’s so confident that they would never be separated for long, this game adores Ryuji and i am so so happy to say that.

The Royal aspect of things

Yeah, i had to talk about this, but itll be a short thing i just wanted to point out. Because the last part of this game...is persona 5 royal. Which is curious. Like taking reality and giving that power to someone else so you dont have to experience suffering anymore? And even like, the final section just looked a lot like the top half of maruki’s palace?? And whats even crazier is that we had a boss fight with sophia, just like how we had a boss fight with sumire? Royal and Strikers have like, the same thesis statement. It’s kind of uncanny.It’s interesting, it’s like atlus came up with these two ideas, and then just decided they liked both of them so much that they just did it twice. I don’t mind though—actually, in terms of how the last Palace/Jails go, i probably like them both about equally.

Though i did love the final battle in this one more than i did in royal. Splitting into teams?? Thats cool as fuck, and really innovative and i didnt see it coming. It also kicked my ass. A lot.

Now for the last stretch: the small stuff!

The music — bomb as fuck. In my heart, Daredevil is ranked the same as Rivers. Axe to grind is also amazing, but Daredevil owns me

Akechi — i really debated whether or not to talk about him, but i figured a bullet point should be enough. Im really shocked that he wasnt in this at all. Like not even a name drop. If this is an OVA, and the point of the game is to please the fans, and akechi is arguably the fan favorite character, i was really ready for something. But there was nothing, except for the pancake hallway if that even counts as a reference. Thats it. Thats all i wanted to say about him.

The humour — FUCKING HILARIOUS im convinced that in my fifty hour playtime, five of that is dedicated to me laughing and unable to continue the game

Akira — so much personality! His lines of dialogue are crazy sometimes (like. Whats up with him saying Ryuji has ‘nice abs’ when they were in bath? Im crazy and even i dont know what the fuck that could mean)

Battle system — oh my god i almost forgot to talk about this. I love it! I kind of miss the turn based aspect just because i found it very comforting for some reason, but this hack and slash style of gameplay is so invigorating because i do feel like it justifies shit like the baton pass and huge attacks. This battle system fully encompases how the Phantom Thieves are supposed to fight, you know what i mean?

Anyway, thats my thoughts on strikers. Loved it. Amazing. 9.3/10, wouldve been higher but Konoe’s Jail almost bored me to death. Also im a monster and i didnt do any requests that isn’t a fun one, teehee. As if i play persona 5 for the persona aspect of things.

#cant believe im done #but you know what?#i was actually at peace when i finished it #so i consider that a good healty thing #p5s #alex plays p5s #mine #p5 #my moon and stars #the leader and his right hand man

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godkilller · 3 years

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@shirenui144

A more sombre question, but had me wondering... Has Gin ever cried / what would it take to make him cry? I imagine it would be verse dependent, but could a man this guarded ever visibly show such emotional hurt?

out of character. Why must you hurt me.

But it’s an excellent question, and as you say too -- Gin has become such a guarded, numbed, and twisted man. He has, for lack of better wording, killed off that part of himself long ago. He is also one of the topmost guarded characters in Bleach, even Ichigo’s little trick of ‘reading his opponent’s heart’ during battle did not work on Gin. Gin was empty. Gin wasn’t even ‘looking at Ichigo’ with his heart when fighting. They did not reach each other. Gin is so utterly closed off from others and himself that there’s an eerie absence of self present in him, a swallowing abyss, intimidating and oppressive. Gin has also spent his entire existence isolated, he joined Aizen extremely young and thus his centuries-long otherness began. He cannot show emotions akin to Toshiro, who is often used in ways alongside Gin to show what happens if one shows emotions and weakness to Aizen Sousuke via childhood friends. Renji and Rukia, too, are used in ways that contrast Gin and Rangiku subtly in the background. Gin’s interactions with Rukia about Renji, and his interactions with Toshiro about Momo are to make Gin more of an other. He is removed, unlike them.

So Gin does not despair openly like they do. He doesn’t shout or cry for the audience to see. He’s a villainous cold-hearted bastard.

This is on top of the potent sense of cultural toxic masculinity and military way of avoiding / “dealing with” emotionally charged moments, not speaking of trauma, and the whole nine yards of suppression which channels into self-worth issues and a tendency for violence. Most characters in Bleach, and especially male characters, aren’t allowed to really stop and think about what they’re feeling, doing -- Ichigo being able to do a decent amount of that, yes, with his protagonist badge, but even then ? It’s pathetically insufficient, barely a taste of what Ichigo actually should be experiencing, and no other characters are allowed to mourn losses or suffer long-lasting consequences for their actions, for injuries, for mistakes, for harmful words or acts. It’s an action / fighting series, the audience is here for big flashy swordfights and cool abilities, not emotions. Certainly not darker topics of PTSD and the like.

You can slice it any which way, but Gin grew up as a child soldier. It can be contrasted by the fact that the majority of the Gotei 13 / Shinigami characters are shown, in flashbacks, as entering the Academy whilst in adulthood, becoming Shinigami once adults, with the exception of people like Toshiro, Momo, Hiyori, who all look / are perpetually young.

Gin is a little older than Toshiro, for context, by the way -- and he is younger than Byakuya. Because Tite doesn’t know how the ages of his own characters work, it can be argued that Gin and Hiyori are possibly within the same ballpark in terms of ages. But like. Look at her. What the fuck. ANYWAYS, the point is ? Gin’s young, and his trauma is fairly fresh. From the Winter War -- and then 110 years into the past to the Turn Back the Pendulum arc -- Gin spends the majority of his childhood either playing caretaker for Rangiku, who is actually a little older than him, and then killing; first, the three Shinigami that attacked Rangiku, then the Third Seat of the Fifth Division, and then many more likely during his career of observing failed projects at Aizen’s side, witnessing horrific Hollowification experimentations, and many more things. The crucial period of development for things like higher level empathy ( Gin showcases it by sharing his food with Rangiku, a stranger, and then we see the absolute absence of it from then on ) and Gin swiftly enters into the midst of Erikson’s industry vs. inferiority stage of development; what does he have to offer the world ? What can he become ? Will he be good enough ? This is the stage in which Gin makes the connection as well as makes peace with becoming a monster; this is what I’m offering, this is what I’m becoming, this will be good enough.

He flipped a switch. It’s questionable whether or not Gin has the ability to cry once he’s an established Third Seat. It’s gone, it’s been swallowed down a hole so deep and dark Gin doesn’t want to go searching for it. He doesn’t want to cry. Gin already has a negative connotation connected to crying given his quote “I’m gonna become a Shinigami, change things for ya, so that you don’t have to cry anymore, Rangiku.” Not crying = good. Not crying means better. Rangiku crying over what was done to her was what embedded into Gin that he needed to be stronger. No crying allowed. None. In his mind, obviously, Gin doesn’t actually make that connection that ‘because Rangiku did this, I’ll do this’ no, he’s not so meticulously aware yet, but there’s certainly an imprint left on him from those earlier years in the Rukongai, dreading her tears, hating them, hating those men, and so crying = murderous intent. Crying = anger.

If Gin cried as a child, he didn’t realize he was doing so. I can see him crying in his sleep from a dream, a nightmare, a jam-packed series of emotions hitting him whilst vulnerable, whilst unable to smile and swallow it all down. I can see him waking from it and wiping at his face, feeling utter detachment like an ache in his chest, an otherness, like that wasn’t even him crying, that wasn’t him. Gin wouldn’t think more of it, he wouldn’t dare linger on the thoughts. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.mp4 and all that jazz.

Gin is more likely to lash out in anger than let himself cry. I have a headcanon / drabble somewhere of Gin screaming into his inner world, clutching at his hair, feeling so terribly close to crying but he can’t, it literally will not happen. He’s too bottled up and frustrated from that that when he actually has an opportunity to cry and it doesn’t naturally happen because he’s become so suppressed, it just outright angers him. Because he has latched everything up, lock and key, by the time Gin’s an adult -- if he were to cry as an adult, it’d be during a flurry of explosive emotions. He cannot just casually let loose, no, that door’s jammed shut, it’s been coiled tight in him. A pit of despair by the time the Winter War rolls by. Gin admits to feeling anxiety, dread, during that conflict -- a sign of slowly coming undone, no longer able to keep himself from hesitance, doubt, insecurity, and anticipation hovering around him like a dark cloud. Gin cannot cry, though, not now. Not when he’s so close to making all the pain worth something...

So it’s no surprise that Gin really only starts getting the actual opening to properly cry in my canon divergent verses. But the catch !!!! Gin has failed so thoroughly and so brutally that he feels he doesn’t deserve to weep about it. That this is merely a fraction of the karma he deserves. He experiences suicidal ideation, daydreaming of how it’d simply be easier if he hadn’t survived at all. He feels too hollow to cry, then, at the start. He feels too heavy, too much, it’s too much to cry about. He ruined himself and Rangiku for nothing. He did all of this for nothing. And now Rangiku wants answers, still waiting, watching him, and he can’t cry in front of her. IT’S STILL INGRAINED IN HIM FROM CHILDHOOD: she’s the one who cries and he’s the one who comforts. The audacity of him to cry in front of her after everything he put her through, as though he were the victim and her the one needing to comfort him. Gin may be morally gray, but at times he truly sees the world in black and white. No moderation, no give and take.

It’d hit him later, when he’s learning to become more vulnerable. When he’s trying to open up to Rangiku about something he has to rip from himself, his heart holding onto this sorrow for so long Gin has to surgically remove the truth from himself. AS A CHILD, WITNESSING WHAT HAPPENED TO RANGIKU COUNTS AS A TRAUMATIC EVENT. Not talking about it for 110+ years does a number or two on you when you at last, FINALLY, tell her the fucking scoop. Gin repressed what happened to Rangiku because he recognized that Rangiku did not fully and properly remember, recollect, what happened to her. He knew. Gin saw.

Compartmentalizing her trauma on top of his own, as though a keeper of it, a sin-eater, Gin would feel absolute despairing relief at finally telling her. Despairing because he’ll be inflicting upon her something he’s been holding back, holding that door shut, for the entirety of their knowing of one another, and to finally let go of the door and let that beast of trauma go charging at her undeterred ? There’s immense guilt attached to this entire affair. Gin feels childlike guilt; why her, and not me ? I wish it could’ve been me, we could’ve traded places and I’d be fine, I’d live, we could live happy together. Akin to survivor’s guilt, Gin wishes those men had found him and taken a piece of his soul rather than Rangiku’s. The ‘why’ of it haunts him. Why her. Why didn’t I stop them. Why didn’t I show up sooner. I could’ve bitten at them, kicked and hit, we could have escaped together -- or at least you could have. Gin also feels guilt at a base adult level: why am I keeping this from her ? No, it’s too late to tell her, she’s happier now, there will never be a good time to tell her.

There are so many things, feelings, thoughts, that Gin has never shared with Rangiku due to it all being tied to the unspoken secret he’s let fester inside of him.

SO WHEN GIN FINALLY TELLS RANGIKU WHY HE JOINED AIZEN, WHY HE TRIED TO KILL AIZEN, WHY HE SAID THOSE WORDS TO HER DURING THAT BLIZZARD AND BECAME A SHINIGAMI ... GIN’S GOING TO BREAK DOWN.

The truth is tied to vulnerability in Gin’s mind. Telling it means ripping himself apart at the seams. Everything he crafted himself out to be was made around this secret. It’s going to be bloody, it’s going to hit him like a fucking train. Gin’s going to feel it coming, rumbling on the tracks, he’ll hear it even, that approaching storm, he’ll know by the prickle at his eyes and the closing of his throat, but still nothing’s ever prepared him for the absolute choked finality of the truth, and he’s going to do his best to hold it back -- it’s instinctive, it’s in his blood by now to mask it, stop it, divert and drawl his way out of it. But this time he can’t just stop halfway and distract her, talk about something else. No, Gin’s cornered himself and it’s high time Rangiku got the truth from him, he can’t run away any more. He’ll have to grit his teeth and talk through it, swallow it back just enough to speak, to tell her what he’s done to them both and for what, for why, it’s the worst possible conversation they could ever have, but one they need. And Gin’s going to find himself incapable of holding back a sob the more he discloses, the more that slips out and escapes him the more the emotions tied to that sunken anchor come up too. He will feel simultaneously lighter and heavier for it.

There are numerous ways Gin’s thought about wording it. He’s thought about the numbed approach, MISSION REPORT style: Aizen Sousuke harvested souls from the 64th Rukongai District, they took a piece from you. Perhaps not, no, not like that. Maybe... back when y’were a kid, there were three Shinigami assigned to the 64th District to collect souls to fuel Aizen Sousuke’s Hogyoku. They took somethin’ from you. I saw it. I saw them hoverin’ over you, I saw it in their hands. I saw’em offer it up to Aizen in the forest, collectin’ firewood. I saw him.

WHY DIDN’T I STOP HIM, WHY DIDN’T I ATTACK THOSE THREE MEN THEN AND THERE IN BROAD DAYLIGHT WITH YOUR COLLAPSED FORM A FEW FEET AWAY, MAYBE I COULD HAVE TAKEN THEM ON AFTER ALL. I COULD HAVE CRUSHED A SKULL IN WITH STONE, I COULD’VE STOLEN HIS SWORD BEFORE THE LIFE FULLY FADED FROM HIM AND MADE IT VANISH, I COULD’VE CARVED THROUGH THE SECOND, SLICE THE TENDON AT THE THIRD’S ANKLE AS HE ATTEMPTED TO FLEE, WARN OTHERS. SLIT HIS THROAT AS HE CRAWLED AWAY. YOU’D HEAR IT, OFF TO THE SIDE. YOU’D SEE ME COME UP TO YOU WITH BLOOD SPLATTERS. YOU’D SEE ME LEAN OVER YOU WITH NOT A PERSIMMON OFFERED, NO, YOUR OWN FUCKING SOUL THEY PLUCKED FROM YOU. SHAKY HAND. BLOODIED HAND. TAKE IT, TAKE IT BACK. I FIXED IT --

Just tell her. JUST TELL HER.

�� DO YOU REMEMBER THE DAY WE MET, RANGIKU ... ?

#[ headcanon ] fresh snowfall; fading footprints mark his path #[ verse: redemption ] i am healing by mistake; rome is also built on ruins #me: i wanna cover more but also i. oof.

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bloodyspade0000 · 3 years

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30-day knb challenge: Day 1- Favorite Male character

↳ Haizaki Shougo

I am not justifying Haizaki's behaviour. I think he needs a tall glass of respect woman juice and therapy. This is just meant to explain why he is my favourite character and help you better understand him as a character. Do not send hate or take my words out of context. You will be reported, deleted and cancelled. Thank you and enjoy. :)

My favourite character is Haizaki Shougo *dodges tomatoes* a lot of people in the fandom hate this guy for many reasons. It's kind of funny how many people hate him and the amount of hate he gets just for existing. Like bruh; he's sixteen, leave him alone. 😂

His whole existence is just sad. He was literally created to be hated.

Like straight up, Tadatoshi Fujimaki even admitted that he hated Haizaki. Haizaki's sole purpose of existing is to make the Generation of Miracles look better even though they’re just as problematic as he. No one is fucking perfect and is about time people woke the fuck up and realized it. Your faves are problematic move the fuck on.

Yes, the Miracles are redeemable but so is Haizaki. Yet, unlike the Miracles, he does not get redeemable. No, he disappears and is never seen again. Like bitch, what the fuck!? if you’re gonna introduce a character to only have them disappear for a long time and either have them show up again or just never mention them again. Wasting the potential they had to be a very good character or not having them redeem themselves while the other characters who were just as fucking problematic get a fucking redemption arc because they’re fucking main characters!? What’s the point of that character even existing in the first place? What kind of bullshit is that? Just to have them exist to make the main characters look good? How the fuck does that make sense? Like where is my Haizaki redemption arc? Do I have to write it on my own? I will write it. I am writing one.

Haizaki is the only character I could relate to. Being second best, struggling to find somewhere to fit in and overshadowed and replaced by someone everyone thinks is better than you. It's fucking depressing, okay? You spend your whole life thinking you’re not good enough, and it hurts. I don't feel like going too deep into it because I don't owe you a detailed explanation of my trauma, okay?. So I'll save that for my fics where I self-project half of it onto Haizaki. It’s a coping mechanism, okay? Therapy is fucking expensive.

The anime ruined his whole character, got rid of his whole arc and shorted it down, and made him worse than he really is.

A post explaining how the anime did him dirty and goes more in-depth about his character

I am not trying to justify his actions, i.e. him manhandling Alex and beating Himura up. He does terrible shit. We all do lousy shit sometimes, but that doesn't make us bad people. Making mistakes is a part of being human, and we're supposed to hold people accountable for their actions and help them realize what they’re doing is wrong, allowing them to grow and change. Not condemn them and ostracize them, which leads to isolation and a lot of psychological trauma and self-hatred, and as someone who has dealt with—is still dealing with all three. It is not fun. It makes living painful. Highly unrecommended.

Haizaki does not have a positive role model in his life nor anybody he can turn to, everyone has already given up on him. Even Nijimura and Kuroko didn’t even try to help him, being more focused on the Miracles. (Yes, I know kuroko tried to stop him from throwing his basketball shoes away, but that doesn’t fucking count because after that Kuroko just gave up on Haiazki too). Haizaki has probably grown grew up knowing only violence and not a single ounce of kindness, turning him into the bitter and angry little boy he is.

Haizaki had so much potential. But instead of making him a great villain that potential was WASTED on fucking Kise.

Also, the Kaijo vs Seirin match in the winter cup was completely useless because Kise already got redeemed and he literally got no character development from it.

And Seirin was gonna fucking win anyways because duh thier the main characters. 🙄

Now some headcanons I think about a lot:

1. He gets abused. Some psychological behavioural consequences of child abuse are unhealthy sexual practices and juvenile delinquency, and Haizaki exhibits all three which are some external behaviours of most (NOT ALL) male abuse victims. Haizaki's a womanizer, aggressive, hostile and violent. Yet, he backs down when someone stronger than him comes around and puts him in his place i.e. Aomine and Nijimura.

a factsheet explaining the long term consequences of child abuse and neglect

How to help a friend dealing with family abuse or neglect

How to Handle Abuse

2. He's a victim. And when you're a victim, you either become angry and cynical with everything and everyone around you, swearing never to be a victim again and struggle with gaining back control of your life. Not wanting anyone to see you being vulnerable because being vulnerable makes you weak. Being weak makes you shatter. You always shatter like glass, cutting yourself every time you pick up broken pieces, watching as blood trickles through your fingers.

Your body is constantly on high alert. The default is flight or fight—survival to the fittest.

Or you bite your lip and keep your head down, bottling everything inside and looking for escapes or seeking validation. You want to be wanted and loved because you struggle with loving and accepting yourself. There's always a voice in the back of your head telling you, you're not good enough or that it's your fault. That everything is your fault. Self-hatred and self-doubt are your tormentors.

Or it's a combination between both—a constant struggle.

And I believe Haizaki portrays both from the way he acts and presents himself. Especially since his motto is literally "Survival of the fittest,” and he had once told Kuroko, " there are bad guys and then the really scary people," or something along those lines, which I believe he is talking from experience. You learn from your experiences. They either make you or break you.

3. He's touch-starved.

What Does It Mean to Be Touch Starved?

4. He's bisexual and has a lot of internalized homophobia. I can just feel his internalized homophobia rolling off of him. Bruh, I just know cuz I am bisexual, and I have struggled with internalized homophobia and still sadly struggle with it cuz I grew up surrounded by homophobic people.

I still live with them. 😭

Also, we live in a society that thinks straight is the default.

What internalized homophobia is.

5. His sexual awakening was probably Aomine or Kise. Could be both 😂?

6. He cries himself to sleep every night.

7. He's observant and a great judge of character. It's a fact. This guy literally predicted the downfall of the Miracles. Straight up warned Kuroko too. Too bad Kuroko didn't listen to him.

8. He's hilarious. When he first appeared in the manga, he literally called Himura a loser, lol. XD

9. He's a closeted softie and a total tsundere.

10. doesn't know how to react to kindness and will think you're threatening him or will feel really awkward and uncomfortable but will cover it up with his scowl, or he'll have a breakdown.

11. needs a lot of reassurance and head pats

12. swears a lot. Has no filter.

13. His bother is in the yakuza or some high position of power, and he feels inferior to him. It also explains why Haizaki gets away with things because he would have been kicked out of school if his bother wasn't either-or. I'm talking about his bother being in the yakuza, lol. XD

14. He and Momoi dated for a while but broke up on a mutual understanding that thier relationship just didn't work out. They're best friends and hang out sometimes.

15. Haizaki's good with kids and just genuinely likes them. He would be a great father and try his best to raise his kids right.

16. He gets sick really easily

17. He's clingy

18. He has no friends, mainly because he doesn't want people to get close to him because he's afraid of getting hurt again. Also, everyone in knb hates him.

19. He watches cartoons cuz he was never allowed to watch them when he was a kid. His childhood is trash, okay?

20. He hides in the closet because that's where he feels safe the most—rhetorically and literally.

21. Sleep-deprived and only runs on caffeine and spite.

List of fics that portray Haizaki better than the anime:

Heavy is the head by extrastellar

Idle Hands by DarkWoods

Another Chance by regretting my username_ (777imou_offline367)

What Matters is that We're Together by StrawFairy

06:00:00 of Haizaki Shougo (4) by ReiClien

This Is Happening by SharkGirl

What is Love by voices_in_my_head

A completely uncalled catharsis by oddball

One-shots

intertwined, under a spell by kornevable

ԼƠƔƐ & ӇΛƬƐ by Arthuria_PenDragon

delirium by extrastellar

me with you by doublejoint

Turn My Camera On by wordsliketeeth

At Summer's End by doublejoint

Taste by Hibari1_san

I Can't Get Enough of You by HisDarkSecret

I don't care if it hurts by llowsywriter

Ashes by doublejoint

broken things by lowsywriter

Series:

Finally found each other by suzakukills

This Is Happening Universe by SharkGirl

DNA by flowerway

My WIPS:

Isn’t it lovely?

Broken Crown

Love me, Love me, Love me

Grey skies

Rabbit hole

A playlist of songs that I believe fit Haizaki

Kuroko’s basketball’s manga

In conclusion, You can hate Haizaki as much as you want. But just keep it to yourself. Haizaki is my baby and I will protect him with my life.

#kuroko no basket #knb #haizaki shougo #long post #rant #favorite character #knb 30 day challenge #favourite male character #headcanons #one shots #fanfiction #rec list #manga #tw swearing #tw mentions of abuse

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Spider’s Web

So for those of you who don’t have me on AO3, I have an Oikawa/OC/Iwa story up on there and I REALLY want to make it into a poly relationship, that’s just not the direction for that particular story. That being said, I’m most likely going to pull a lot of inspiration from there. However, if you have my AO3 account and are reading Proper Dose, please please please don’t spoil any of it for anyone else. Things that haven’t been posted on there (namely the OCs relationship to Oikawa) is going to be included here.

Enough rambling.

Edit: I am going to FIGHT the tumblr text post editor that WOULD NOT save every time I went back to format this.

Warnings: language and NSFW!

Nobody understood the dynamic, the gall, you had dating both Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tōru. That was okay, it wasn’t anybody else business but the three of your own.

It started out in your guys’ second year of high school. You had class with Iwa for the last two years and would eventually move onto the third together as well—many thought he was a shallow piece of shit, Oikawa included, when they learned that the Seijoh ace was dating the captain of the cheerleading team, let alone top of their class. Aoba Johsai knew you as nothing more than that.

Iwaizumi knows better.

He knows the long, hard hours you put into your sport; the literal blood, sweat, and tears. He knew the struggles you faced with home life and your parents thinking your “sport” was a complete waste of time, regardless of the fresh bruises and cuts you came home with every day, they made sure to tell you as such. And he knew you took everything out on yourself — the frustration of constantly trying to make your family happy while struggling to do so for yourself — never wanting to take refuge with another person, until he came along.

To him, it seemed almost natural to be with you—you were almost Oikawa’s female counterpart and that was a love he had long swallowed and repressed. The drive, the ambition, and the self-discipline, or lack thereof, was eerily similar, too similar for Iwaizumi’s comfort. At first, anyway.

You and Oikawa didn’t get along at first. His stand-offish attitude, especially to you being cheer captain, rubbed you the wrong way. He thought you were shallow, even more so than Iwaizumi after you two started dating, and the only thing you were going to do was break Iwaizumi’s heart and he wouldn’t stand for it. However, when his ACL got torn in second year, you were the first one at his side besides the ace.

“If you’re important to Iwa, you’re important to me too,” was all you responded with when he asked why you were waiting him for the ambulance. Iwaizumi had to, unfortunately, carry out the remainder of the tournament without the captain by his side.

And so, the spider’s web began to thread.

You and Iwaizumi were only dating for a year and some change before hitting a breaking point. For your safety, he had begged for you to quit your club after colliding with another girl on your team in your third year, that you had nearly dislocated your now insufferably swollen jaw. Despite the collision, the Aoba Johsai cheer team had made it to regionals after six long years of rivalry with Shiratorizawa, but the success didn’t matter to the volleyball ace. “You’re going to get hurt, [name]!”

“But I didn’t, and I’m not fucking quitting!” Despite the care and support Iwaizumi Hajime had always given you, the two of you were at odds as the two of you and Oikawa were walking back from your prefectural qualifier held at the Sendai City Gymnasium. Oddly enough, Oikawa of all people acted as the mediator that day.

“Iwa, what do you love about [name]?” He had asked his best friend.

“Her passion, mostly. But right now—“

“So if you force her to quit the one thing she’s passionate about, is she going to be the same person?” You could have cried that day. Shit, you did cry because never in a million years did you think Oikawa Tōru would be coming to your defense, especially not about this. But he understood, better than anyone, what it meant to be completely devoted to what you do and he would be damned if the boy he loved more than anyone would take away the one thing that you cared about the most.

It didn’t make sense to anyone but Oikawa. However, he knew that if you lost the one thing that motivated you in life, you would no longer be the person that Iwaizumi loved, and that hurt the captain deeply. While Iwaizumi didn’t necessarily appreciate that Oikawa came to your defense, he understood the logic behind his reasoning. “I’m only saying this because I love you, but let her do her thing.” The captain added to his ace. Iwaizumi had no idea that he had meant it literally at the time.

Since that day, you and Oikawa became quite close. He understood a part of you that, despite the passion that Iwa had for volleyball as well, the ace just didn’t understand the dedication the both of you had. You both loved what your sport and what you did. You also both loved Iwaizumi Hajime and never had an intent to let him go.

“You know, Iwa may complain that you’re too much like me, but I think that’s why he likes you.” Oikawa had said one day when they two of you were out on a friend date. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you, considering that there were times you needed to get out and away from your parents and Iwaizumi just couldn’t be there. That was okay; he was his own person too.

“I don’t disagree with you, Oiks.” You were aware of how the volleyball captain felt for your boyfriend—you would be stupid not to notice. But it didn’t hinder your friendship with the man in the slightest; if anything, it intrigued you further. “Sometimes, I feel like he’s only with me because I’m like you.”

And so another ring to the spider’s web is added, as the couple slowly captures their unsuspecting prey.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you two?” Iwaizumi Hajime is pissed. It’s in the middle of the inter high preliminaries—just after Seijoh beat Karasuno. You’d gone up to congratulate the boys on their win, giving a long hug and peck on the cheek to the volleyball captain who has now become one of your best friends. It wasn’t hard, once Oikawa got over the qualities that you shared, the very same ones he hated in himself.

There were things about you that made the two of you different. For starters, you embraced freedom, something that Oikawa could never do. That freedom and liberation to be yourself so fully, so unabashedly, kind of made you a badass in his eyes, one almost equal to the object of his affections. Granted, not many other people at Aoba Johsai cared for this attitude of yours—it made you untouchable, unapproachable, like you somehow thought that you assumed yourself to be better than them. Whereas Oikawa was your opposite in that regard with everyone thinking much higher of him and yet he never felt that he was enough. In layman’s terms, Oikawa strives to reach the pinnacle, where as you sat at the top only to feel alone and isolated until Iwaizumi Hajime came along.

“Whaddya mean, Iwa?” Oikawa responds light-heartedly and the man in question knows that he’s playing around. Grinding his teeth against each other, the ace grabs the both of you before dragging you guys into the hall. He’s red with anger and you’re unsure if the capillaries in his eyes are going to burst from the pressure.

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” He repeats.

“Baby, nothing is going on—“

“You expect me to believe that when I see the way you two hold each other—“

“It’s because he can’t hold you, Haji.” Oikawa snaps his brown eyes towards your shorter frame, wondering when and why you would even consider betraying him right now, of all times. “I’m comforting him, Hajime. Win or not, he doesn’t get to be held and kissed by the person he loves, just the next best thing—his girlfriend.” The captain wants to kill you; wants to run and hide because he can’t take the intensity of the situation. It’s not exciting or thrilling like when he’s normally presented with a challenge—this is nerve wracking.

“What?” Is all the ace has to say. His olive green eyes are now locked on his best friend and the king is in checkmate. “I’ve been in love with you for years and after finally moving on you decide to say something to my girlfriend?” Oikawa wants to run. Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing he hates more than seeing Iwaizumi mad at him — genuinely, truly mad at him. It was the whole reason that Iwaizumi was the only person that could get through to him in the first place.

He becomes defensive, saying the only smart ass remark he can muster. “She’s not complaining, is she?” Wrong move, Oikawa.

“More importantly,” you interrupt before the two of them glare so hard at each other that the sexual tension overrides their rationality, “you both finally admitted to being in love with each other at some point in time.”

And then they’re quiet. Another thread in the web drops.

They lose to Karasuno and it is the end of their high school volleyball career. At this point, you aren’t sure what’s worse—the tragic end or the fact that you were granted permission to ride the bus home with them and the two of them are currently hiding their faces in your shoulders in the back row of the bus. The three of you are the last to get off after arriving at Seijoh and you stay for the meeting knowing that Iwaizumi was going to walk you home after. He didn’t need to announce it, you knew by the grip he had on your hand during the entire meeting.

The team parts ways, leaving you in the comfort of your boyfriend and your best friend. “We doing this?” You look at both of them, noticing the way they refuse to look at each other. In a sense, it makes your heart hurt because you’ve grown to love both of these boys so much. Iwaizumi, the boy who saw you for what you were underneath your prickly exterior. He knew you underneath fake smiles and even faker conversations. He knew you for you.

Then there was Oikawa. The boy that unknowingly saved you by saving yours and Iwaizumi’s relationship. The boy that, after months of misunderstanding you, knew how to make you bloom and grow into the person you were and wanted to continue being. The boy that wanted to see you flourish not only for Iwaizumi’s sake, but because the two of you helped each other grow in ways that others could not. He knew what you wanted to be, and he knew he wasn’t going to stop being a part of your life until you got there.

Saying nothing else, you grab both of their hands before taking them to a place that had become a home to the three of you. Caffe Veloce was your destination of choice this evening, figuring that talking about such sensitive subjects on school grounds wasn’t necessarily the best place to converse. It was far from foreign for you, to be holding the hands of them both. In Iwaizumi’s absence, Oikawa often held your hand when you went places together—mostly so that he could have the physical touch he often craved. Eventually, it just became a habit.

Despite the chilly, October evening air, the three of you had opted to sit outside so that nobody could eavesdrop on the conversation. After all, walls tend to reflect sound whereas the open air allows the vibrations to fade into nothing. “So, who wants to start?” You ask, as if you asking about how their day had gone rather than to talk about the underlying tension that had been eating the three of you alive for the last two months.

“Start with what—“ Iwaizumi is uncomfortable. He feels his girlfriend and his best friend of many years both staring at him, feels the way his heart his pounding in his chest like it isn’t doing its job of providing blood to his body. The thrumming in his ears is deafening.

“I love you, dummy.” That was a first for you, to hear Oikawa call him a name that’s met with bitter distaste. It’s a first, but it is a sign of growth. For Oikawa Tōru, he has always placed his best friend on some sort of pedestal, always regarding the man to god-like status and listening to his direction like gospel. At the end of the day, Iwaizumi Hajime is but a simple man. A man that the captain has been in love with for as long as he can remember.

“You can’t do this to me,” the ace simpers weakly as his resolve crumbles with a fragility foreign to him, “you know that I’ve been dating [name] for the last year—“

“And I love her too, Iwa. I wouldn’t have been able to even say this to you without her.”

“Aw,” you coo to the captain, “I love you too, Oiks.”

“This is too fucking weird.” Iwaizumi spits out, folding his arms over his chest and turning away from you both. Oikawa pretends the words don’t hurt but it’s nearly impossible to ignore the shards of his glass heart dropping from his chest into his stomach.

“Haji, just hear me out,” you say cautiously, gingerly holding one of his hands in yours, “if anyone can make this work, it’s us.”

There was pattern in the web becomes more intricate, as another spider adds webs to the loom.

The three of you graduate—Aoba Johsai, class of 2012. It’s a beautiful ceremony, but your parents never came to watch you walk. Instead, you’re filled with love from Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s family, neither of them knows your guys’ little secret. They knew you existed, Haji’s family knew you two were together and Oikawa’s knew the two of you were close friends, but they never even had the thought the complex and complicated web of your relationship existed.

After rigorous debate, the three of you settled on attending university and getting an apartment together. It’s strange, at first, like the three of you are truly seeing each for the first time in your lives. In a sense, you are, as the three of you share many firsts together. Like the first time you all sleep in your collective king size bed—the boys had given you the short lived honor of taking the space between them. After all, you were the one that brought this all together.

The first fight was probably the worst memory, yet one of the best at the same time. While fighting was normal between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as their childhood anctics had yet to be put to rest, there was now an intricate level of intimacy that had broken free of the former and every insult hurled by the latter had been a nail in the setter’s coffin. “Haji, you need to chill out. You’re hurting Tōru’s feelings,”

“You always take his fucking side, [name], and I’m so fucking tired of it. You were my girlfriend first when he didn’t give a rat’s ass about you so why are you choosing him over me?”

“Asshat, I’m not picking a side, I’m picking our relationship over anything. And our relationship includes you, me, and dumbass so for the love of fuck, please stop actually hurting his feelings because then we lose a part of our relationship!”

“Why did you have to ruin it by calling me ‘dumbass’, babe?” Oikawa whines, the edge he was feeling from Iwaizumi’s anger tampering off with the way you handled him. One thing that Oikawa Tōru loves about you was the way you knew just what to say when it came to Iwa. It was another major distinction between the two of you. Simmering down, the former ace clenches his teeth as he claws at his scalp with his jagged fingernails.

“I’m sorry guys.” He says quietly, knowing that you’re right. At the end of the day, the most important thing was this strange, twisted relationship he’d landed in. But this relationship had you and it had Oikawa, and that was all Iwaizumi ever wanted.

The spider’s web is almost completely threaded.

The best memory overall was the very first time the three of you made love together, and it had nothing to do with the fact that there were three of you. It was the fact that three of you were so consumed and in love with each other that not a single movement felt wrong or rushed—everyone finally belonged to each other. There was no doubt of who loved whom more, an insecurity that had long gnawed at the back of your mind, which prompted the aforementioned evening.

“You guys have each other—you always have. I’m just kind of...here,” you had told them once after the two of them had returned from a movie date alone. At the time, you were curled up on the couch watching corny teen romance movies after coming home from a long day at work with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s that you’d demolished easily in the two hours you were left to your own devices.

“Honey,” Iwaizumi plopped beside you, taking the empty cup from your hand and setting it on the coffee table before pulling you into his lap with ease with his arms encircling your waist. “We have each other because we have you. Don’t ever think that you aren’t important to us too.” His words are meant to be encouraging, you know that they are, but you swear you hear little voices in your mind telling you that you were the one not cut out for this lifestyle. Knowing he’s not getting through, Oikawa rests on the arm of the couch, one leg swaying as it doesn’t quite touch the ground while his hands grasp one of yours.

“Babe, we only went without you because you were at work. We missed you the whole time,” you can sense the contradictory sentence coming, “but when you’re busy, Iwa and I take the time to explore being together too. You had a whole extra year and half of dating him—there’s things that I don’t know about him as a boyfriend that I have to learn for myself too.” Judging by the silence, Iwaizumi is worried that Oikawa had said the wrong thing even though he’s still holding you. But he couldn’t have said the wrong thing because it’s entirely true and all three of you know that.

“I love you guys.” You tuck your head underneath Hajime’s chin, simultaneously squeezing Oikawa’s hand in comfort and in search of forgiveness for your almost bull-headed attitude.

“We love you too, princess.” The former ace adds softly, his jaw moving along the crown of your head as speaks.

“Why don’t we show you how much we love you?”

The three of you being together is a clarity you’d never experienced before—truly a feeling unlike any other. The way that Hajime is tentative and rough at the same time, making sure they every millimeter of your skin is bruised and bitten with purple affection, whereas Tōru seeks to bring you reassurance with encouraging whispers while caressing your breasts. Your back is to the former captain’s chest, allowing him to nibble on your bare shoulders while he holds you down as Iwaizumi has his face between your thighs.

Had it not been so intimate, you probably would have pushed to skip all the foreplay.

But Iwa has his face between your thighs with your legs dangling off his shoulders as he’s nipping and biting at the flesh on either side of him. Each bite makes you help from sensitivity, while Oikawa does his best to pinch and tease your nipples while filling your head with loving words. “We’re gonna take real good care you,” he croons sweetly as a whimper escapes your throat.

Iwaizumi gives a tentative lick to your folds, cautiously peeling them back like a flower, as if he had never done this with you. In some capacity, you suppose that was true. Carefully, his tongue swirls around your swelling clit, taking his sweet time to coax your reaction. “Haji!” Instinctively, you press your thighs together, nearly crushing his head but the man between you likes the pain. Oikawa brings a hand gingerly underneath your jaw before his fingers dig into your skin, pulling your attention away from Iwaizumi and onto him.

“I want to feel you.” And his lips are on yours as if it were the first time you had ever kissed. While he’s still holding your chin, his tongue is laving against your slightly chapped lips, almost as if to soothe the dryness, before he slips in. You aren’t sure what’s more distracting—the strange, intimate way that Oikawa Tōru is exploring your mouth with his tongue or the fact that Iwaizumi Hajime was mirroring the exact same treatment on your cunt. Their movements are slow and steady and you’re wondering just how they know that the other is moving this cautiously.

But slow and steady and cautious has never been Iwaizumi’s style in bed, no matter how much he tried to make the moment last. For just a second, he pulls away from your lower region swabbing his middle finger around his mouth and inserting it into you without warning before his tongue comes back to join the party. Were it not for Oikawa’s mouth covering your own at the moment, you’re sure that a string of profanities would be leaving your mouth with the way Hajime’s finger is pressing and reaching for the weak spots that his tongue cannot reach.

Oikawa’s freehand travels down from pinching your nipple to threading themselves into Iwaizumi’s hair, encouraging him to bring you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the evening. The ace didn’t need to be told twice. Rather than swatting off Oikawa’s hand, Iwaizumi blindly grabs his wrist with his own free hand, pulling the setter closer so as if to signal to him that he needs to be pulled harder. Adding another finger inside of you, Iwa sets a punishing pace, entirely turned on by the burning feeling in his scalp and the muted moans of yours that his best friend was covering up.

There’s almost no rhythm to his work, or so you believe. But Iwaizumi is a meticulous man, and he would be damned if he didn’t love a woman properly. His fingers are nearly fucking you open, alternating between scissoring you and pushing on that spongy bundle of tissue that makes you want to scream, all the while your clit is being rolled between his teeth with an occasional suckle, nearly sucking the oxygen straight from your lungs. You pull away from Tōru, eyes half shut as broken cries leave your chest while you try and regain your breath. “We love you, [name],” the setter mumbles along your skin, pulling even harder at his best friend’s scalp to tell him to finish you. Iwaizumi pulls away from your warmth, his chin drenched with saliva and your juices and Oikawa swears up and down he’s never seen the man more attractive than he was in that moment.

The ace pulls his fingers from inside you before the flats of three of his fingers are wildly, furiously, rubbing at your sensitive clit because all he wants right now is to hear you scream. But you live in an apartment and have neighbors and as much as they both want to hear you beg and cry for them, Oikawa shoves three fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. “Don’t ever think for a second that we don’t love you,” Iwaizumi grits out between his grinding teeth, his hand moving at breakneck speeds knowing you’re so goddamn close.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ you’re chanting out around Oikawa’s fingers while his free hand migrated to languidly stroke the man bringing you to your end. That caught his attention real quick, as Iwaizumi crashed his lips onto Tōru’s. It was rough and loving at the same time, much like the ace himself. Your orgasm ripped through you like a tsunami causing you to bite down on the captain’s fingers. Whiny whimpers escape through your muffled slew of curses as Iwaizumi’s speed slows before he pulls his soaked hand away from you, Oikawa doing the same with your mouth before he pins Iwaizumi down onto the bed, overcome and overwhelmed with need. Luckily for him, you’re incapacitated at the moment, giving the boys a chance to show each other their love as well.

It’s captivating to watch, you muse internally, the way that Iwaizumi goes from manhandling you to delicately cradling every part of Oikawa that he can touch. The way their tongues are swirling together and the way they’re both stroking each other’s cocks to alleviate an ounce of pressure—it’s so intimate. It’s so goddamn beautiful. Despite Tōru claiming they were going to show you how much they loved you, this worked just as well because there’s a part of you adores the way they love each other just as much.

Like watching a fly become trapped in a spider’s, large, billowing web.

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rosethi · 4 years

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s2e09 Kyoru SO MANY FEELS and HOLY I just realized Kana+Hatori (Kanatori?) is a foil to Kyoru

I have waited so many years for this adaptation so here’s all the brilliant things that I’m crying about (a lot of them things that I’ve seen other people mention!)

Also in the midst of editing this I finally realized why Kana was written so similarly to Tohru, and how Kanatori’s past tragedy is a perfect foil to Kyoru. Everyone loves how tragically romantic their story is and rightfully blames Akito for ruining their happiness, but it is much harder to see the dark messages about their relationship that is subtlely conveyed through contrast with Kyoru.

First, the resemblances:

Kind-hearted outside girl and initially withdrawn cursed boy fall in love

Girl find out about curse and accepts boy

Boy with miserable life becomes softer and happier

Akito disapproves

Deconstruction of tropes

Early on in the story, Kanatori is established as a trope that kyoru then spends the entire story deconstructing.

“love is like spring”

Kanatori : love is often compared to a blooming spring season, which Fruits Basket uses explicitly as a metaphor for Hatori’s love. Hatori calls Hana his spring, and their relationship follows a clear direction from meeting in winter, blossoming in spring, and wilting in winter. Hatori’s heart is reflected in this arc as he goes from having an untouched heart, to loving passionately, to breaking his heart and leaving it in seemingly eternal winter. Kana and Hatori’s relationship is ephemeral like the seasons, their happiness only lasting two months and knowing each other for one year. Their love follows the more common relationship trope of having the life-changing experience of falling in love dramatically.

Kyoru: In contrast, Kyo and Tohru’s relationship is a slow burn with no discernible beginning (or end). The episode begins with kyoru during autumn, followed by a more recent scene at the beach during the summer. Kyo wonders when his feelings started because he can’t place a time. By the time that he realizes that he loves Tohru, it feels as if he has always loved her from the start. Their love is all-encompassing over all seasons of the year, because it’s their daily happiness from being with each other that gradually and unknowingly turns to love. It re-enforces the idea that the most important thing that Tohru did is to just stay and live life together with Kyo. This also leads to deconstruction of the next trope...

“love heals all”

Kanatori: Once again Hatori and Kana’s relationship serves as a foil to Kyoru. Kana shows how self-defeating and tragic love can be if the relationship is based on healing and fixing each other. Hatori lived an apathetic existence of being duty-bound to his curse. Kana "healed” Hatori with love, accepting his curse and filling him with hope of happiness that he once thought impossible. Hatori wept, feeling like he’s “forgiven and saved for the first time in his life”. It is Akito who reminds them that Kana’s love isn’t going to fix Hatori’s problems, ruining their relationship by pointing out its flawed beliefs. Akito knows that both are looking for salvation from the curse in their love, so he easily ruins their relationship by pointing out how Kana is unable to save Hatori, screaming at her “you’re not wanted / you can’t even break the curse!” Akito then goes further and scars Hatori, which is the piece that truly broke Kana and her love with Hatori irreparably. Kana believed her love is meant heal Hatori and protect him, but instead permanently hurt him. Due to the nature of their love, Kana was driven into an unforgivable position that she failed their duty to protect her loved one from harm. Hatori’s eye is not going to heal back with any amount of love, and so Hana spirals into despair until her memory is wiped. Her final words to Hatori is the core of their tragedy: “I’m sorry I failed to protect you.” Their story highlights the unrealistic ideals of healing love as a fragile relationship foundation. It is romantic and beautiful, but easily destroyed through the uncontrollable circumstances of life. If the purpose of a relationship is protecting and healing each other, it is so very easy to fail.

Kyoru: Kyo specifically says that Tohru didn’t heal him and cure all his problems - the most important thing she did was to stay by his side everyday, sharing life side by side. There’s no misplace romanticism on magically fixing your partner’s problems or taking away their pain. They experienced and shared small everyday joys. Kyoru is sweet and perfect because their love is born from their tiny daily gestures of love and happiness instead of grand dramatic events. Thanks to her parents’ relationship with each other and Tohru’s relationship with her mom, Tohru understands how central sharing lives together is to personal relationships, and it’s why she offered it to Kyo during the True Form arc. On the other hand, while Kyo doesn’t expect Tohru to heal or protect him, demands these unrealistic expectations from himself to consider himself “worthy” of being with her. Kyo is driven by the same romantic notions of protecting that Kana was for the majority of the story. His misguided self-expectation becomes the primary obstacle to their relationship.

perfect protagonist

Akito’s criticism of Tohru - that “she’s too perfect” - is partially a stand-in for the audience criticisms. Tohru is considered a boring, flawless, doormat. But that too is being slowly deconstructed... Tohru’s quirks with her mom’s photo and her dedication towards her mom’s memory are being revealed as grief coping mechanisms. In fact, many of her personality traits are revealed to be coping mechanisms for past personal tragedies.

Other points:

Tohru was so happy for Kyo and he didn’t correct her...he didn’t want to worry or trouble her...and he assuaged her worries for him at the end of the day in the same way.

the “hentai” looking ropes: represents the bonds that ties the zodiac spirits together. They look purpled and corrupted now, like how the zodiac bonds became a curse and burden over time.

the first thing Kyo thought when he was called to see Akito was that Tohru was going to be left alone.

When she’s finally left alone, Tohru goes to the beach and makes sandcastles... compare this to New Year’s Eve, when Tohru was left alone at the start of the night, she sat with her mom’s photo and cried.

Manga spoilers under cut:

Other bits about the episode:

“I don’t want to take anything away from her anymore”: Kyo feeling at fault for his mother’s suicide paralleling with his guilt of feeling responsible for Kyoko’s death. He’s been internally fighting the accusations that he’s the one reason for his mother’s death most of his life. Then Kyoko’s death happens and crushes him so immensely that, to go on living, he had to redirect his self-hatred into a singular goal of hating and defeating Yuki. He feels responsible for taking away Tohru’s most important person, her mother, which inadvertently leads to her involvement in the Sohma family. Shigure was really the one responsible for Tohru’s involvement, but Kyo only knows of his own involvement. From his POV, he’s unworthy of being with Tohru since he ruined her life and took away her mom. He has personally experienced the loss of his mom and wishes for many many reasons that she had not died, further intensifying the guilt he feels over Tohru’s mom. Knowing how much Tohru loves and respects her mom, if Kyoko said that she won’t forgive Kyo...no wonder he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be with Tohru.

Akito is calling Tohru a monster because she accepts and has a close relationship with Kyo. Anyone who accepts Kyo is both treated as a saint for tolerating a monster and a monster for accepting a monster - he has already experienced this with his mother and with Kazuma. His mom was the most affected, being constantly blamed and derided for bringing a monster into existence until she committed suicide. He was raised to believe that anyone would be worse off by having a relationship with him because he is a monster, not to mention be gossiped about maliciously by others. Tohru being with him would cause others to think of her badly, for others to call her a monster...and he loves her too much to bring her down with him.

Resolution to “love heals all” trope for Kyoru:

Tohru’s way of loving Kyo, living life candidly with him, was exactly what Kyo needed (and vice versa, of course). We’ve seen Kyo reject other unhealthy forms of love: He didn’t want Kagura’s love borne of pity, and he found his mom’s blind love suffocating for both of them.

Kyo’s final character development and resolution hinges on coming to terms with a more mature understanding of how to love someone. Kyo sees himself unworthy of Tohru’s love because he fails at protecting her: he wasn’t able to find little lost Tohru, he wasn’t able to save Kyoko from the car crash, and he wasn’t there to save Tohru from a landslide. These are circumstances beyond his control, just like how Akito injuring Hatori’s eye was beyond Kana’s control. We first hear about his disappointment at failing to protect Tohru after Akito’s confrontation with Tohru at the beach house. After Akito leaves, we see that Kyo was held back from joining the confrontation by Haru, and he calls himself incompetent for being unable to protect Tohru from Akito. LIke Kana, Kyo imprisons himself into the unforgivable position that he has a duty to protect his loved one, and yet circumstances both within and without his control still occurs and hurts Tohru. He feels guiltiest for not doing more to save Kyoko, thereby feeling like he personally caused Tohru to lose her mom. Unless Kyoko comes back from the dead, Kyo has trapped himself into never being worthy of Tohru.

Fortunately for Kyo, Yuki is having none of his shit. Yuki is the one who finally literally punches through Kyo’s romantic idealism and makes Kyo realize how immature his idea of love is. Kyo wants to be Tohru’s prince in shining armor but is utterly bested by Yuki when it comes to grand heroics. Yuki is the prince archetype who finds little lost Tohru, saves Tohru from living in a tent, retrieves her belongings from a landslide, and shows up at her relatives’ to whisk her home. In Kyo’s mind, this makes Yuki more suitable and worthy of Tohru, and Yuki is the one who gets fed up with Kyo’s self-deprecating and unrealistic mindset. “Who do you think you are, a superhero? Would you only be satisfied if you could save somebody from a car crash, or save someone from a landslide? You’ve been protecting her, haven’t you? You’ve been with her daily, making her happy, isn’t that protecting her? Do you think it were the same if I were with her?” Kyo had to learn that being with someone and making them happy every day is far more significant and precious than heroics. Seemingly insignificant actions are in fact *special* things that only he can do for Tohru. Takaya-sensei’s message on healthy love is so consistently woven throughout Fruits Basket.

#fruits basket #kyoru #kyo sohma #tohru honda #fruits basket spoilers #with every edit this post grows longer god help me #hatori sohma #kana sohma

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gin-and-luce · 4 years

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You killed our dog! Adriana of The Sopranos gave me strength to navigate life after a breakup during a global pandemic lockdown

I’m going through a breakup. It’s come at the worst time but also the best time. He ended things with me (more on that later) after three years in the most Beta-Male way...but this is what happens when your type can be boiled down to softboi. I can’t see my friends in the conventional way, so I made some new ones on screen to help me navigate the end during quarantine.

Over ten weeks ago I started watching The Sopranos. It doesn’t need justifying, everyone knows it’s the best television series of all time, but I’d never seen it, and I knew a global pandemic induced lockdown would provide optimum viewing circumstances. My favourite thing to do is completely throw myself into the female narrative and experience I’m watching on screen. I prefer a long deep drama over a film. I like being able to see my girls every night.

People have said to me before “you should start a blog”, but I could never escape the feeling that doing so is massively narcissistic because it *is*, unless you have something actually relevant to write about. Alternatively, the image of Gretchen Weiners leaning in and going “you let it out honey, put it in the book” floats across my conscience, and everything embarrassing that I’ve ever done, plays in a montage in my mind.

Who gives a fuck what I have to say about anything…….. especially about a cultural phenomena that is quite literally regarded as the best TV show of all time?

I’d been wanting to write this after I watched Long Term Parking. I lay in the dark for 45 minutes after the episode ended. I’d never felt like that watching a television show or film before. My throat had seized up but I didn’t cry, even though I felt like it. I knew it was coming from the moment Adriana met the agent. I wasn’t surprised, but I was heartbroken and absolutely fuming. I still am.

I’m not angry with Christopher, Tony, or Silvio, but just the general unbalance I’ve felt when I’m in a relationship. The loss of self, relationships being a series of compromises. From what I have found from my own experiences and my girlfriends’, women are just much more willing to compromise, but don’t consider it to be a compromise. Men can only take into consideration their own reality, an evolutionary selfishness that just doesn’t translate.

Just as lockdown began I texted my boyfriend to say I loved him and I missed him. He responded with “Can’t say I feel the same”. Nearly 3 years were over just like that. We had the obligatory phone call, where I was hysterical and he was smarmy and smug. Yet when it was over, I felt nothing. It’s allllll a big nothing.

My personal Gospel is Sex and The City (shout out to HBO!). This was my Berger moment. He essentially scribbled “I’m sorry, I can’t. Don’t hate me” on a post-it. The irony of the whole thing is that when we watched it together, he himself said he was most like Berger. Thinking about it makes me wince.

My life opened up in front of me, I was exposed to his weakness regarding the situation in full when his sister-in-law messaged me on Instagram a few days ago. He hadn’t told his family, nor had he told his flatmates (another shout out to my sleuths at the back, you know who you are!).

The Sopranos is a show about life. The Mafia structure provides a vehicle for us to question morality and mortality. You take what you get from it. When I watch it again at a different stage of my life, I will get something else out of it.

For me now, while I stew in my own emotion during quarantine, Adriana represents emotional labour and the expectation for women to behave in a certain way in relationships.

At first when my ex’s family members were messaging me, I was confused. It is frankly humiliating to smile as if everything is normal, so as to protect someone that in the end would not do the same for me. I know he wouldn’t do the same because there was just no courtesy in what happened weeks ago. I am trying to move on but things like this stunt your personal growth.

The struggle with emotional labour hones a guilt that someday I’ll regret giving my early 20s to something that didn’t work out. I felt like I was on borrowed time.

These are obviously my own insecurities spurred on by the fact that I’ve read enough “10 things I wish I knew in my 20s” blogs to know that these are my selfish years. Still, it is ultimately devastating to see the last 3 years of your life conclude via a text that displays a failure to realise that there is no real clean cut for a long-term relationship.

I respect him for the blunt statement because it means I get to reference the Berger SATC breakup and say “casually cruel in the name of being honest” (Taylor Swift, 2012) a LOT, which softens the pity in the social scenarios that I invent in my head in the shower.

When Tony calls Adriana to tell her Christopher has tried to kill himself, that was like my final phone call too. This is the end. Her youthfulness was why I related to her most in the show, but at the same time having nothing to lose made her easily expendable. Youth makes you put 100% into something knowing it is a gamble.

I’m not comparing my ‘borrowed time’ to Adriana because she ends up dead, but there was a disregard for her life that was so harrowing because she did nothing but try and do the right thing. I watched Adriana put Christopher first willingly for 5 series. He supported her music management dreams but ultimately ended up making it all about him. He gave her the Crazy Horse but this ultimately was just another mob hangout. He sat on her dog, he continued to use heroin, shag other people, and so on.

“You could start writing again,” she tells him in her last episode, to which he responds “I could do my memoirs, finally,”. Here is Adriana still!! STILL!! catering to Christopher’s ego to give herself some confidence. Very me.

All the way through she was just too good for him. Her ties to the Famiglia aren’t as tight as Carmela and Co. No children, still young, there’s chance for Adriana to get out if she wanted to. Of course this makes her prime FBl bait, but shows she sticks by Christopher through everything purely out of love. In the end she dies on her knees, subservient, with Heart’s Barracuda the last song she hears. I know Adriana had to go. That’s the way it is in the Famiglia because Christopher took an oath. But in a way she also had the carpet ripped from underneath her, just like me.

There are lots of men writing on the internet about how Adriana is greedy and hypocritical. I just don’t understand where this reading is coming from other than obvious misogyny. I’ve read others that say if she was really that strong she would have simply left the relationship years ago. I believe that she believed things would improve for both of them, and that most people are just slut shaming her for her past.

Still, Drea DeMatteo won a Best Supporting Actress Emmy for the episode. Fuckin’ A.

I rooted for the woman. Before I was made redundant while working from home, I would spend half my life at my desk willing it to be 5:30pm, so I could slither back to the settee and spend the other half of my life in New Jersey. I’d phone my mum to discuss the episodes. She loves the show too, it’s always been a favourite in my household. We’d talk about the women like they were our friends and how we relate to them. The Sopranos is like a big mirror urging you to question everything. The answer to life is simply what are ya gonna do?

Men love making things black and white so it is easier for them, when really women are in the background sorting out the shades of grey.

Don’t get me wrong, Adriana’s significance is massive, albeit more so because of her death. You watch Christopher and Tony’s relationship start to crumble afterwards. It's shattering to see the disregard for Christopher’s sobriety and how despite his loyalty, he still sees him as a liability and weak.

On the other hand, for Adriana’s sake, I am still enraged that he couldn’t see the bigger picture at the time. She is collateral damage in his path to finding his precious arc - “Wives, girlfriends, they can complicate life in a major way” Tony expresses to Jennifer as he runs from his own guilt.

Christopher is desperate for Tony’s approval but is more than happy to use his blood connection as a protective leeway whenever he steps out of line. Again the irony is that he comes to tell Tony about Adriana first, just as the old Famiglia values say he should, but there is no real personal reward for doing so despite the personal sacrifice.

I think Christopher regretted it in the end, and rightly so. When he is faced with his potential alternate life at the gas station, we assume that this was what made him go to Tony. It’s a family with loads of kids. Adriana probably can’t even have kids??? What kind of male logic?! #justiceforadriana

I can’t help but feel for him when JT screams “Chris, you’re in the MAFIA!”. It’s the same kind of reality check that Chief Cubitoso gives Adriana, it’s an ultimatum and it’s the realisation that they are trapped in this life. Just ask Gene.

Carmela knew. I read her dreams as a testament to a woman’s intuition. She knows her friend isn’t what everyone is describing, she knows Adriana wouldn’t just disappear. She is all too aware of the emotional labour Mob women carry. When she sees Adriana with Cosette on the banks of the Seine, it is as sad as it is when we dream about people who have died.

There is a scene in an early episode where Carmela says “Don’t we all?” in response to Meadow squealing “She’s MARRYING a BABY?” at a painting of The Marriage of Saint Catherine. I thought about this again when Christopher dies. Carmela passes her instinct off as hysteria, she isn’t to know. “So quick to blame, what is the attraction in that?” she cries during the aftermath of the car crash. There is a critique in her own femininity here that just makes you want to shout “NO CARM!!!!!!!”. As she believes she mothers Tony, there is the double-edged sword whereby he protects her through keeping her in the dark. “Heaven only ever sees my love making a fool of me” sings Emmylou Harris at the start of season 5. Carm’s power is taken away but she doesn’t even know.

Carmela dedicates her life to being a mother but it’s not enough to save Meadow from her surname. We get some sense that AJ ‘Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit’ Soprano might be on a new path when he feels like the burning of his car among the autumn leaves of death was cathartic. As a man, he just has more freedom anyway.

Miss Meadow gained her independence by getting her driving license, but in the end we see that she is still held back in the final scene by her inability to parallel park. She slots right in, eventually. As she does, she slots into the Soprano cycle after years of doing the most to get out and pave her own way. After every breakup with someone without links to the Famiglia, no scrubs, she returns and dates someone closer to home. Her career path is left tenuous to us, it would be all too easy for her to become a kept woman, which feels like it is the only real option should she settle down into the lifestyle with Patrick Parisi. It isn’t what she envisioned for herself, so part of me wants to hope that her story ends up a little bit more like Elle Woods. Legally Italian.

I probably wouldn’t even have remembered her saying anything about parallel parking if I wasn’t terrible at parallel parking myself. It’s the pepperings of these subtle callbacks that make the show so beautiful. As the guitar solo plays on during the frustration, you’re invited to reminisce over Meadow’s journey. I fully wept watching her struggle to get the damn car parked because I’m trying to get my car parked too. Don’t stop believing, Meadow.

I admire all the women in The Sopranos. The show is feminist, and that is a hill I am prepared to die on. It’s definitely up for debate as it is obviously littered with gratuitous nudity and women are commoditised. We have to allow this for cultural context for the show, but real life is basically exactly the same too?

I read a post on Reddit where a dude is asking whether he should watch the show with his girlfriend. He types ‘“It’s a masterpiece of film but she probably wouldn’t get into it as I am”, and you don’t have to look much further to find more comments about how women and their puny minds just won’t get it. It’s an odd perspective to take given that Tony’s psychiatrist is a woman, but of course women could never grasp something so complex. It’s bullshit if you ask me, the female narrative prevails throughout all scenarios.

The Pine Barrens seems to be everyone’s favourite episode. It’s not my favourite but there are two major elements that resonated with me. The first is Meadow looking down at the three letter words Jackie Aprile Jr had placed on the Scrabble board, and the second is when Gloria says to Tony:

“What you said was that you didn’t wanna piss me off..which implies that you’d have to deal with me, which is more about sparing YOU than my fucking feelings”. Don’t need to elaborate on that. Rest in power, Gloria. Legend.

Of course I could write pages and pages of hot feminist takes on all of the women - Jennifer, Janice, Livia, Angie, Svetlana, Charmaine. Lord knows I could probably write a book on Tracee.“ 20 years old, this girl”, I bashed Living on a Thin Line by The Kinks for about a week after that episode. It is the male gaze of the show made me love the women more. Carmela is my mother and I’ll probably name my first born Meadow.

Carmela is the powerhouse and backbone of The Soprano household even though Tony provides. She represents stability, emotional labour, and putting on a brave face regardless. In some ways, it is as if Carmela represents the human emotion side and the fragility of organised crime. She is secure, but not enough, and her lack of ability to stand on her own two feet plagues her conscience through time. She is totally complicit, but must be to ensure her future with Tony as he pays anything to roll the dice just one more time. At the end of Long Term Parking, she and Tony stand looking at where she will build her spec-house. The forest looks the same as where we lost Ade, it’s a grim reflection that Carmela wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for the quick disposal of those like Adriana.

Yeah okay, what the hell is a show with a feminist underpinning trying to say about wider society about a woman who exercises her beauty, loyalty and ambition?? Is it that she is not to be trusted?? Adriana’s a rat, but before this she is already deemed “damaged goods” anyway. She dresses provocatively, but that’s because she just looks MINT always. You would dress like THAT if you looked like THAT. When you Google her, ‘Adriana Sopranos Tennis’ comes up. I roll my eyes. Fucking men, eh? To take it down to a basic Sixth-Form-Poet reading, Adriana is Curley’s Wife and Daisy Buchanan all in one. She loves a red manicure too, and it might have worked out better for her if she had played the complicit beautiful little fool.

This isn’t ‘Why The Sopranos is good!’, but a love letter to Adriana and her strength, because there is basically little or no content written on the women of the show when I have Googled. I needed there to be more things written about her that isn’t just “bitch had it coming” when in fact she is a martyr.

When Adriana was on screen, there was my mate. I knew her, she wanted what I wanted, but she sacrificed so much of herself for others and it was heartbreaking to watch. She barely gets a look-in in early episodes, but when she does she is usually wearing something animal print, which automatically made her the number one character on my radar. I am choosing to believe the theory that she is the cat in the final episode too.

Still, I have been struggling and questioning why an episode that aired 16 years ago, with no plot that links to my own circumstances, has had such a monumental impact on me.

I saw a tweet that said “have we ever sat down and thought about why relationships only work if the guy is more invested than the girl or is that just something we accept” (@anugov1). Adriana invested more in Christopher, even in the end, than she ever did herself.

As I navigate this transitional period in my life, I am Adriana driving in the vision we see when we think she is going to start her new chapter. We can’t leave the flat, I have no job. The Sopranos has provided the most cathartic escapism for me. As I enter into whatever new world follows this nightmare, I wanted my mate Adriana to find her new world too, turning the classic rock up to 11.

#the sopranos #adriana la cerva #christopher moltisanti #carmela soprano #feminism #cosette #breakup #woe is me #hbo #david chase #drea de matteo

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hamliet · 4 years

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I can’t believe you’re reading 2ha too now! I started following u way back when you were posting tg and snk meta and it’s so weird in an amazing way how you started posting mdzs meta at the same time I started reading it! I’d like to ask you for your thoughts on 2ha so far? (Maybe on Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi’s relationship?) Thank you :)

Ahhhh hi Anon!!! Thank you for sticking with me through all my fandom phases! And hooray, my first 2ha ask!! My general thoughts on the story are that it is a highly enjoyable story with fantastic, compelling characters and genuine emotional beats, though it also was thematically contradictory. That said, I really enjoyed it, and I’m eagerly looking forward to the live action even if it’s going to be heavily censored! I love it and want to make more content for it.

But onto the meat of your ask: Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si, the ship that tears our hearts out. *art is from the audio drama* So 2ha's cultivation world is, like the worlds in MXTX’s novels, utterly hypocritical, corrupt, and filled with people desperate for a justice that does not exist; it's also much more cynical than MXTX's novels in its view of humanity. Nangong Si's and Ye Wangxi's arcs are wrapped up in this view of the world, in concepts such as corruption and justice and the like, so I'm going to open by talking a bit about this before delving into their arcs, and keep in mind I will have discuss spoilers from the manual translation.

I don't think there's a better summary of what 2ha thinks about justice than what Xue Zhengyong says in this scene when a horribly abused child is on trial for terrible things the child, now grown, went on to do:

Fate...

Some people were born rich.

It's not fair.

When fate had poured injustice on those at the bottom, a mere price adjustment order could take the lives of the loved ones around them.

Where is justice?

They were all living people. How could they not hate him? How could they feel relieved?

Even if this child had missed it, even if he was not his blood kin, even if his fate played with him … Thinking of this, his heart still ached.

...

Xue raised his face and watched the clouds drift by."Okay, now that his sin has been repaid, he should at least repay the debt he owes this world."

The wind was blowing .Xue Zheng Yong suddenly choked with sobs.

"But this world owes him … Did someone give it back to him... Has anyone returned it to him … "

What about the crimes done to this person to make them that way? Does punishing this person bring any justice? How do we live in a world that is--perhaps irretrievably--broken? Every character explores this idea, and Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si are no exception.

Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi are both obvious foils: they're children used by their parents, tools more than people. They also both--but especially Nangong Si--foil Shi Mei and Mo Ran in this, in terms of something horrible happening to their mother, something that scarred them for the rest of their lives. For example, Nangong Si's last words to his mother were:

"I don't understand, I don't want to understand, I …I …” Nangong Si raised his tearful eyes and cried out to his mother, who was outside the forbidden spell, "I hate you! I don't have a mother like you! "

Mo Ran’s mother died and he had to drag her rotting corpse for two weeks to get to a place where he could bury her; Shi Mei’s mother was brutally eaten alive for her power. From these incidents, all three boys learn that the world is cruel in a distinct flavor that will influence everything they do from then on: Mo Ran learns no one will help him even if he begs for it, leading to him being both extremely clingy and extremely mistrustful; Nangong Si learns fate can be cruel and that he, too, can be cruel; Shi Mei learns that he can’t protect everyone and that his heritage puts him and his loved ones, all his people really, in huge danger--and that people will do evil things for power. Guess what he ends up doing.

Ye Wangxi is also a Mo Ran foil: adopting a false persona and different role to please the people who took them in and were kind to them. Mo Ran pretends to be Xue Zhengyong and Madame Wang's nephew, when he really isn't; Ye Wangxi pretends to be a man to please the father who adopted her. That father is gray; I mean, technically he's morally repulsive, but he did genuinely care for Ye Wangxi. However, Ye Wangxi's willingness to sacrifice her life is not entirely a positive thing: clearly, Nangong Si will do whatever he has to in order to protect her, even marry Song Qiutong; his sacrifice there, likewise, leads to unhappiness for them both.

Ye Wangxi and Song Qiutong are definitively foiled, and I'm going to sound as if I'm saying Ye Wangxi=good and Song Qiutong=bad, when, while that may be how the novel frames it, is certainly not what the novel actually says (it's an objective contradiction) nor is it what I interpreted. But they are distinct foils, which is why they are the two characters romantically linked to Nangong Si, representing to him the two paths he could choose to go down. Ye Wangxi will sacrifice herself to protect others, as seen in the sacrifice of her love for Nangong Si and her sacrifice of her identity and willingness to sacrifice her life.

In contrast, Song Qiutong will throw others under the bus to save herself. For example, when she is accused of cheating on Nangong Si, she does not trust people to defend her and falsely accuses Ye Wangxi of rape--even though Ye Wangxi had previously risked her safety to save Song Qiutong from an auction. Now, I've an issue with how the novel frames Song Qiutong for this: I don't understand why Song Qiutong is condemned when (as far as we and Mo Ran himself know at the time) Mo Ran is himself a rapist and when she was entrapped into the situation (i.e. if many characters hadn't been put in certain situations, they wouldn't have done terrible things), especially given her past (constantly living under the threat of being killed or raped--let's be honest, if she was deemed at fault, do you really think they'd just let a Butterfly Bone Beauty go?) and given story otherwise stating that people shouldn't be faulted for wanting to live. Who has repaid her for the wrongs done for her?

I digress. Still, the tl;dr is that Song Qiutong's way of surviving involves hurting others. Song Qiutong also directly foils Nangong Si. Nangong Si starts out as... well, also as a very self-centered person who didn’t care that Song Qiutong was about to meet a fate worse than death in the light of the inconvenience Ye Wangxi saving her caused him. Additionally, he takes his frustrations out on those around him:

However, even after his father is revealed to be like, the literal worst, Nangong Si cannot condemn his father. He could easily abandon him: in fact, in this cruel world, it might be perceived as more righteous for him to do so, but he doesn't. He gives his father a chance, and when they need a sacrifice and the most logical one is his mentally de-aged father: Nangong Si faces a choice: does he want to be like Song Qiutong? Or does he want to be like Ye Wangxi? He chooses to be like Ye Wangxi. This is not, however, a solely beautiful choice, because remember 2ha's world sucks and its suckery infects everything. The world itself is wrong, and so righteousness--true righteousness--is utterly impossible. Nangong Si sacrifices his life to save them all, but that leaves Ye Wangxi alone and many characters (and readers) grieving. It also could be read as highlighting, for Mo Ran at least, where he has yet to go: a few chapters earlier he almost sacrificed his reputation to warn everyone, but panicked and did not in the end. Mo Ran, of course, is related to Nangong Si by blood and could have sacrificed himself (I'm not saying he should have; the circumstances suck), so I suppose you could view it as Mo Ran still slowly developing (and his callous treatment of Rong Jiu and then entrapment of Song Qiutong as him slowly learning, but if so I wish it had been called out as a "well, I handled that hypocritically" moment later on). Or maybe that's reaching on my part. *shrugs* Ye Wangxi is a moral character, perhaps the most righteous in the story. She is the only one who stands by Mo Ran when he's put on trial to be tortured, declaring confidently:

Ye Wangxi fed him some warm water.

Mo Ran said in a low voice, "Why …."

"You helped A-Si." Ye Wangxi did not raise her head. "You helped me too."

"... On Mount Flood Dragon, if I was the one to die, Nangong will …" Ye Wangxi's hand paused slightly. She was trembling, but she still said in the end, "Everyone wants to live. I won't blame you just because you want to live."

"..."

"Drink it." She said, .”..you've been helping me and A-Si by risking our lives. Now, even if no one is willing to help you, I will still help you." Her expression was still dull, but it was firm. “I'm here." As she said 'here', she was indeed standing by the side of Mo Ran.

It's fitting, then, that Ye Wangxi's ending contrasts her with Shi Mei. She rescues refugees before the final battle and then travels the world with Nangong Si's wolf, because she will never forget the one she loves, and to presumably act justly and do righteousness, sow kindness into a world, rescue people despite how rescuing Song Qiutong actually endangered both her and Nangong Si.

Shi Mei wanted to change the world, quite literally rewriting time, but only made it worse in the end. Ye Wangxi's way of change might be slower, might be less fantastical, but it's not going to hurt people in the meantime. (Side note: I wish the novel would have been more optimistic and come up with some kind of justice for the Butterfly Bone Beauty people, but it really doesn't as far as I understood (this may be wrong; the MTL of the last twenty or so chapters are confusing!))

#ask hamliet #2ha #2ha meta #erha #erha meta #ranwan #mo ran #mo weiyu #chu wanning #nangong si #ye wangxi #song qiutong #nangong si x ye wangxi #WHAT IS THEIR SHIP NAME #shi mei #if i got into how xue meng and mei hanxue also foil them #we'd be here all night #Anonymous

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Piggy’s Had Too Much Wine

This fic is highkey a vent because my younger brother is an asshole who never stops calling me fat

DISCLAIMER: By writing this fic I am not saying that Katy Richardson is fat. She is not. And even if she was, she would still be drop dead gorgeous. This is a fictional story about the character she plays, not her.

Word count: 3159

TW: Body shaming, body image issues, self harm

--------------------

“Damn, girl, you got enough in your face?”

Joan looked up from the forkful of food she had just put in her mouth and blinked at Anne smirking across the table at her. She chewed slowly, like a sheep deep in thought, then said after swallowing, “Huh?”

Anne nodded at her meal. “You got a lot to eat there.”

“I know,” Joan said, shifting in her seat. “I’m hungry.”

“That’s new,” Cathy observed. “Usually you don’t like eating during lunch breaks at work.”

“Well, we’re not at work,” Joan said. “This is a restaurant.”

“We know that,” Cleves said.

“And the food is good here.” Joan went on hastily. “I like it.”

“Maybe a little too much,” Kitty said from behind her glass, earning her a sharp, but wounded look from Joan, which she countered with a petty sip of her drink.

“I’m paying, anyway,” Joan continued. “Why does it matter what I get?” �� “It doesn’t, honey,” Aragon settled her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Joan nodded and then took another bite of her meal. She couldn’t help but feel a little awkward as she did so, as if she were eating like a pig out of a slop trough, but tried to ignore it. It was fine. Everybody had to eat. There was nothing embarrassing about it.

“So…” Anne started again. Aragon gave her a warning look, but she either ignored it or didn’t see it. “What made you want to come out with us? Usually you never go out.”

Joan shrugged. “I got lonely. And there isn’t anything good to eat at my apartment, so…” She shrugged again.

“Ah, so that explains why you’re stuffing your face like there’s no tomorrow,” Kitty nodded wisely.

Joan ruffled, face inflaming with red. “I said I was hungry!” She yelped, her voice pitching slightly.

“Don’t get mad,” Kitty held her hand sup. “I thought you were just trying to starve yourself or something.”

“You do never eat,” Jane put in her two cents.

“Well, I am now,” Joan grumbled.

“Do you have a date?” Cleves asked. “Maybe you’re looking for someplace good to take them?”

Anne snorted. “If Joan had a date, then I hope they have a belly kink because she’s going to be packing after this.” She took a sip of her drink, then breezily added, “More so than she usually is.”

A few giggles swept through the tables, while others snapped their heads around to gauge Joan’s reaction. And she did not look happy about what had been said.

Joan’s fork was raised up for her to take another bite, but frozen in midair. Bright red consumed her face like the blooming of a rose in spring. She unconsciously wrapped her free arm around her stomach while slowly setting her fork down with the other. She sat hunched against the table for a moment, then was grabbing her purse and dumping money out on the table.

“You can pay with this,” She mumbled.

“Come on, Joan,” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. It was just a joke.”

But Joan doesn’t listen to her. She stood up and shoved her chair in roughly. Tears of humiliation could be seen shining in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” Anne groaned. “Are you going to cry? Are you serious? You’re literally thinner than half of us here! What do you have to cry about? Or even be embarrassed about?”

Still, Joan doesn’t listen. She slung her purse of her shoulder and stormed out of the building, her arms wrapped firmly around her stomach the entire time.

------

When Joan got home, she shoved her fingers down her throat and cried. So much for a good meal. At least she got to pay for it.

------

That night, Joan stood in the shower with a box cutter poised over her exposed belly. She wondered what it would be like to find clarity in its blade. Cutting off pieces of herself would make her feel more whole. A heavy decision with a light outcome. It would just be like how they cut meat at slaughterhouses.

Make yourself an animal. Make yourself less human. It’ll make the process easier.

But the pain was bright and sharp and unbearable, even with the smallest of slices, and she threw the box cutter at the wall.

Joan sunk to the floor, sobbing, thin trails of blood running from her stomach. The water dissolved the red into unfolding petals of flowers across her pale skin before sliding into the drain.

What did she have to be embarrassed about?

She looked at herself in the mirror after getting out of the shower and asked herself this. What does she have that makes her so embarrassing? What does she have to hate?

She wasn’t overweight. She wasn’t obese. In most people’s terms, she was the normal example of thin. It was just her stomach, it wasn’t that bad, or that’s what they say.

“You’re not even that big,” That’s because you haven’t seen her with her shirt off.

“It’s just your stomach, it’s not even that bad,” But that’s what people see the most.

“You aren’t fat so stop saying you are,” And she wished she could, but tell that to the insecurities rebounding inside of her head.

When she wears jeans, she has to pull the waistband up over her stomach or else she would be doing an impression of an English muffin for the entire day.

When she wears certain shirts, she has to suck in her stomach or else everyone will see the not-actual baby bump she’s sporting.

When people jokingly (or sometimes seriously) ask if she’s pregnant, she has to force herself to laugh along because if she shows that she’s offended they’ll pull out the “you’re not fat, you don’t know what it’s like, you have no right to be so whiny.”

When someone says they wished she had her body type, she has to act like it’s some worshiping compliment when really it just makes her feel guilty.

And she gets it, she does, she knows how hard it must be for actual overweight people, but goddamnit, when she heard someone point her body out so rudely, it was enough to destroy any confidence she had in herself.

She wanted to cut it all off. All of it. Until there’s nothing left but a gaping hole left in her abdomen from where her ugliness used to be.

If only.

------

Joan hadn’t expected not eating to be so goddamn hard. She only ate a few things a day, but having nothing at all was absolute torture. The fact that she couldn’t go twenty-four hours without food did not help her confidence in her weight or body, but it was also too much for her to handle. She /had/ to eat. She could find a different way to lose weight.

------

Exercise was a bust. Turns out she has really bad stamina. She threw up when she attempted to jog an entire trail. She walked the same trail the second time and still felt excruciating stitches in her side during the entire hike. And then she waterlogged herself and felt even sicker. AND THEN her legs were sore for days. She hated it.

------

When starving herself and jogging failed, Joan turned to the local gym. She bought herself a membership and went in with the most confidence she could muster. The first day, her foot slipped and she got her leg caught in the turning pedals of the bike machine. In her attempt to escape, she sprawled right out of the seat, screaming. She hasn’t gone back since.

------

Two weeks have passed since the incident at the restaurant. Joan was still thinking about it, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. Anne’s words and the laughter that followed just kept rebounding through her skull.

Hunching over her work desk, Joan carefully felt her stomach. She hated how soft and pudgy it was, as if she were actually pregnant like how people liked to joke, but with a deflated baby. She poked the roll of fat and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her nails curled into the skin as her anger mounted.

Why did she have to look like this?

She had rewatched the recordings of the Sunday Sessions and noticed how much her stomach stuck out. Had she always looked that fat? Why didn’t anyone say something? Were they laughing at her while the Live went on? Were they looking? God, she even looks awful in her overalls. If she can’t wear her overalls anymore, then what’s the point of anything?

Joan whimpered. She scratched harder at her belly.

Cut it off. Cut it all off. Make herself good, whole, pretty. People will like her more. She’ll finally have friends. Yes. Yes. Good.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Stinging pain streaked all across her poor tummy. Her fingernails were claws and she was marring herself.

Give them a reason to like her. Just don’t let them see what lies underneath. Just smile and be pretty and stay thin. Cut it off.

Joan wondered what would happen if she scratched too deep. What if her skin split open? She’s heard of evisceration that has happened like that, granted it usually wasn’t caused by excessive clawing because of body hatred. Would pulling out some of her organs make her thinner? Surely she didn’t need her large intestines /that/ much. It had it in its name- “large.” It’s too big. It takes up too much space in her. It’s definitely making her look so swollen and gross.

Pull it out

“Joan?”

Joan’s hands froze. Her entire body froze. She swallowed thickly, shutting her eyes and cursing herself in her mind. Then, she’s wiping the tears from her face and turning to the queen in her doorway.

“Yeah?”

Jane peered at Joan curiously. Strangely, the usual annoyance in her gaze was missing. She even looked a little worried.

No, no-- Jane doesn’t care about her. Jane thought she was fat, just like everyone else.

“Are you alright?” Jane asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m okay.” Joan said. She forced a light laugh. “I was watching some animal videos. You know The Dodo? God, those always make me cry! Don’t tell the director, please? I don’t want him to think I’m slacking.”

Jane looked at her computer screen, which definitely did not have an animal video on it, then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“So, what did you need?”

“Oh, uh. Tim needs you. Something about lighting malfunction.” Jane said.

“A music director’s work is never done,” Joan chuckled dryly. She got up and walked out into the hallway, Jane stepping back with her. When she closed the door, faint bloody smears were left on the knob.

She and Jane both noticed it, along with the blood on her fingertips, but neither said anything.

------

You lose weight when you’re stressed. You also gain weight when you’re stressed. The fact that Joan was worried that her costume was tighter than usual does not help the latter.

------

The costume was definitely tighter. Or maybe it was always this tight? NO, there’s no way… Well, whatever it is, it’s making the waistband cut uncomfortably into her belly when she sits down. But maybe it rupturing her organs from the tightness may not be so bad. The loss of mass inside of herself could help her lose weight.

------

Joan tried to not eat again. It’s working a little. She’s restraining herself well enough. But it’s awful, so awful. The hunger pains are the worst.

------

“Joan?”

Joan turned to the doorway of her dressing room to see Aragon standing there.

“Yes?”

“Are you almost done?” Aragon asked.

Joan furrowed her eyebrows at her paperwork. “No.”

“Wonderful,” Aragon said. “Come on.”

Joan blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” Aragon said again. “We’re going to my house for dinner.”

“Wha-- But I said I had work?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. Let’s go.”

Joan hesitated, then gathered her belongings and walked out with Aragon. If it weren’t for her undying loyalty to the queens and that she was kinda afraid of Aragon, she might have refused. Too late now, though.

“What are we having?” Joan asked meekly on the drive to the queen’s house.

“Lasagna,” Aragon answered. “And, no, before you ask, I’m not going to add every single existing spice into it.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you believe that Anne really thought that?”

That got a tiny giggle out of Joan. Aragon flashed her a quick smile, then focused on the road ahead of her.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am a little,” Joan said, and that’s the moment her stomach decided to growl obviously loud. Her face flushed bright red and she wrapped her arms around her midsection as Aragon laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Aragon chuckled.

Joan remained flustered for the rest of the short car ride. And then she was just embarrassed when they pulled up to the queen’s house and realized she was going to have to eat in front of them again. She was already preparing herself for the humiliation.

Weirdly, though, the house was empty when they walked in.

“Everyone is out eating,” Aragon said, catching Joan’s confused expression. “So it’ll just be us.”

“Oh… I’m sorry you had to miss that.”

Aragon waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. It’s quite alright. Now come help me reheat this lasagna.”

Half an hour later, they were eating. Except Joan just stared at her plate, wringing her hands anxiously in her shirt. Her stomach was dying for the freshly made lasagna, but she really didn’t want to add the calories to her already thick body.

“Joan? Aren’t you going to eat?” Aragon asked.

“Oh, uhh-- I’m not that hungry, actually.” Joan said.

“But I thought you were earlier?”

“That was earlier.”

And then Joan’s stomach growled. Redness enveloped her face as she hunched her shoulders in and looked at the floor. Aragon gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Eat, honey. Please.”

So Joan does eat. She eats more than she actually wanted and after four plates she feels stuffed and sick- both physically and mentally.

“You really were hungry, huh?” Aragon mused, picking up Joan’s plate. Joan whimpered below her. Instantly, her maternal instincts flared to life. “Joan?” She knelt beside the chair and set a hand on Joan’s back. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Joan sobbed. She looked up at Aragon and tears were rapidly streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart… Come here.” Aragon pulled Joan into her arms and the girl slid off the chair to be enveloped in them. She noted that Joan didn’t hug back, rather kept her hands firmly gripping her stomach. Things were starting to fall into place. “Shh, shh… It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”

“No, no,” Joan shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not, Catalina, I--” She practically screamed. “I hate myself so much.”

“Joan…” Aragon helped Joan up so she could sit on the couch. The girl instantly curled into her upon sitting down. “Joan, honey, why? What’s wrong?”

“I-I--” Joan cut herself off with a tight whine.

“Is this about what Anne said?” Aragon asked.

Joan nodded with a feeble whimper.

Aragon looked absolutely enraged. “Goddamnit, that bitch--” She hissed. She pulled Joan against her firmly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. This has been eating you up, hasn’t it?”

Joan nodded again. “It’s--it’s all I’ve been thinking about. It’s been killing me, Catalina, it’s been killing me…” She sobbed into Aragon’s chest. “A-and I know it’s stupid because I’m not overweight, not really, so I don’t have the right to complain, b-but--”

“Oh no. Don’t you dare.” Aragon pushed Joan back and cupped her tear-stained face, making the girl look her in the eye. “Don’t you dare say that, Joan. You have every right to feel the way you do. You can be upset if you want to, regardless of your body type. You can be tall or short, black or white, skinny or fat- it isn’t just overweight people who have body image issues. So don’t be guilty over that, honey.” She brushed some hair out of Joan’s face. “But just know that the things you are thinking are not true.”

Joan pulled away and shook her head. “They are.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach again.

“They are not.” Aragon said. “Joan, you are not fat.”

“Yes I am!” Joan cried. “Have you SEEN my stomach? I’m fat, Catalina! I’m fat and gross and--” She dissolved into tears again.

“I have seen your stomach, Joan.” Aragon said gently. “Am I supposed to be disgusted by it?”

Joan nodded, not looking at Aragon.

“Why?”

“B-because,” Joan stammered. “It’s ugly…”

“Honey, you are not ugly.” Aragon said. “You are anything but ugly. You are very, very beautiful.”

Joan answered with only a tiny, “mmmm.”

Aragon pulled Joan back into her arms. Joan curled into them, her head finding its spot on her chest.

“I don’t care about what you look like, baby. You’ll always be beautiful in my eyes. Not ugly or fat.” Aragon said.

“P-please don’t say I’m not fat,” Joan begged quietly. “I-I can’t-- I can’t believe you. Not right now. It’s too-- I--”

“Shh,” Aragon pressed her head underneath her chin. “I understand, honey. But just know my opinion will never change about you. You will always be my perfect girl.”

Joan sniffled. “R-really?”

“Really.” Aragon confirmed.

Joan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. She finally hugged Aragon back, practically burying herself against the queen.

“I-I don’t know how long it’ll take,” Joan whispered. “For me to not see myself the way I do…”

“That’s alright,” Aragon said. “I’ll be here helping you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” Joan nuzzled into Aragon’s warmth. She winced when her stomach cramped. “I think I ate too much…”

“Oh, my poor baby,” Aragon cooed. She lowered one hand and rubbed comforting circles against Joan’s belly. “I used to do this with Elizabeth, you know. She was such a fussy girl.” She chuckled. “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

Joan giggled. “Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned her head against Aragon’s chest and relaxed into the feeling gliding across her full stomach. “I can see why she liked this, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Aragon smiled at her. “I’ll have to see if she still does, then. Ha, she would be so red!”

Another giggle. “She’d kill you.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

Joan smiled slightly. Her hatred for her own body was still clouding her mind, and she knew she was going to continue to have problems over it in the near future, but it suddenly felt like they would be easier to deal with. She had someone who loved her, who thought she was perfect and beautiful, regardless of what she or her stomach looked like.

Well. At least there was one good thing about having a soft, chubby tummy. More room to get belly rubs.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #joan on the keys #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #katherine howard #catherine parr #anna of cleves #piggy's had too much wine #tw: body shaming #tw: body image #tw: self harm

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curtashiism · 4 years

Text

Long rant/vent ahead

It’s hard, because I know I genuinely love biology. I love learning about anatomy and physiology, and I have an affinity for bio as a whole. But I don’t know that it’s really what I want to do, and I feel like I was never given the chance to fully explore what I actually wanted to do because of my mom’s manipulative behavior to me growing up.

When I was younger I wanted to do something with music, but my mom told me I wouldn’t be good enough. I didn’t have the talent my sister did at the cello, which was why they sunk so much money into her cello rental and lessons but wouldn’t get me any lessons.

My mom told me future was in academics and I never really questioned it. Her grandma had a premonition (my mom’s words, not mine) that I would go into the sciences. So my mom never let me consider anything else. She tried her best to shut any other ideas I had down. She never came to a single one of my track meets when I ran in 8th grade. I mean, I finished dead last in every race except the one time I finished second to last, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have had to be good to earn her involvement. But that’s how it was with her. She only cared when it was something I was good at- academics. She’d come to the awards ceremonies when I made honor roll, but never cared about my other interests.

So I settled on the medical field at some point- I thought a doctor or vet for a while but I’m not good enough at math, physics, or chem, so now I’m thinking public health.

Before I started college, I wanted to take a break from school, get a job, and figure things out. But my mom didn’t want that. She thought if I did that, I’d never go back to school, and we couldn’t have that now could we? So she did what she does- she manipulated the situation to get what she wanted to my detriment. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want loans. She said “we all go into debt, suck it up” and told me if I didn’t start the next term she would kick me out.

So I did. Then once I had the loans finalized, she told me she was never going to kick me out, she just wanted me to “get my life together.” Because clearly it’s not my right to make those decisions, it’s hers, and if I wasn’t ready to start college at 19 my life must have been falling apart.

So now here I am, entering my senior year of college at 26 years old, panicking because I need to start preparing for a Master’s program but I don’t FEEL ready at all and I’m not sure this is actually what I want to do. I like the arts. I want to learn more about them. I want to learn to play the violin, I want to see if I can act (I’m practicing voice acting and am loving it and my friends say I actually am not bad at it and I have a cute voice perfect for child characters), or maybe even try to write a play (I love theater and I love writing.) Hell, I think I’d be happier joining the Peace Corps or going to the Kalahari Desert to volunteer with the meerkat study project for a year. I’m not ready for grad school- but I feel like I HAVE TO do it.

But that’s the thing. I try so hard to get my mom to approve of my decisions for just ONCE in her life. But even when I do exactly what she wants it doesn’t happen. She wanted me to do the science stuff to begin with- but when I tell her there’s a couple of MPH programs down in NYC, I would just need to finally get my driver’s license and a car, she starts making me defend my decision. She asks all these questions that make it sound like I’m some kind of idiot for wanting to get a Master’s degree. And maybe I fucking am, but not for the reason she thinks.

I told her I was going to learn the violin and her reaction was to get mad that I asked if I could practice it in the apartment during my visit home. When it looked like I was going to get to study abroad in London, before COVID, she made it all about her and her letting go issues.

When I graduated with my Associate’s degree- I’m the only one in the immediate family to do so, by the way- my mom cried before my graduation. Because she was devastated it wasn’t my sister.

And I honestly don’t know why I still even try. I know she has four kids but only cares about one. She will NEVER care about me or actually be proud of me. Not if I get a Master’s degree, not if I become a doctor, not if I became a tapdancing polyglot brain surgeon who cures cancer on the moon. She isn’t capable of it. On top of that, she has no grasp on who I actually am as a person.

She has a twisted and distorted view of me where I am a manifestation of all the things she fears are true of herself. All the things she doesn’t want to be, she projects onto me. She calls me hateful and judgmental and mean because I tell her not to call me when she’s been drinking. One single, solitary boundary I request and that’s too much for her. She was jealous of me as an INFANT because my dad doted on me. You have no idea how many times she’s been in the middle of a bender and accused me and my dad of literal incest because we’re close. “You’re his second wife” “there’s some Mormon shit going on between you two!” She doesn’t know the first thing about me. She told all my relatives that I only was in the orchestra as a teen because I wanted to be like my sister, not because I actually liked to play.

I do not admire a single thing about my fucking sister. This is the same sister who conspired with my first boyfriend and got him to sexually abuse me. The same sister who got high on meth and fucking raped our little brother. The same sister who told me about this while she was blackout drunk, then licked my neck. The same sister whose behavior I told to my mom and got a response of “well to be fair I’ve fantasized about your neck too!” Oh but see, if my mom was to be believed, my fucking sister never did anything to hurt my little brother, no sir. He made it up for attention, and I “planted lies in his head because I wanted to prove an agenda about men being able to be raped by women.” Because she thinks I’m so evil I would use my little brother as a pawn for a social experiment just to hurt my sister.

I don’t admire anything about my sister. I barely even fucking feel sorry that she fell into sex trafficking and had the same thing done to her that she did to my little brother. I should be upset about it, but I just feel apathetic, especially since she got to see her abuser put behind bars while my little brother is still dragged out to visit her every time my folks (who he still lives with as an adult) decide to see her. She’s a shitty person. The world will be a better place when she fucking dies. She convinces everyone she meets that she’s a wonderful person because she tells them what a long journey she’s been on and how she’s working so hard to heal through her faith (conveniently leaving out the part where she victimized others as much as she was a victim herself). Bitch, you don’t get a cookie because you fucking went five years without sexually abusing your younger siblings. Jesus isn’t fucking proud of you. I’m certainly not.

But of course, since she’s the one my mom favors, she can do no wrong. My mom is no better than her in my eyes.

So that brings it back to, why the FUCK do I want her approval?

Why the fuck do I care?

She certainly doesn’t care about me. If all the above shit isn’t proof, the fact that she got drunk when I was 15 and said she wished she could kill me is. The fact that she gave me PTSD from all the shit she put me through is proof. The fact that she made me coming out as a lesbian all about her is proof. The fact that she would go on a hateful rant about trans people- even though she doesn’t know I am, she knows I care deeply about the issues which should be enough but some isn’t- is proof. The fact that she honestly can NOT remember what my birthday is and has to be reminded by my dad is proof. The fact that she once called me a bitch on my birthday, which she forgot was my birthday until my little brother reminded her, is proof. The fact that she tried to tear my dad and I apart because she was too insecure to handle my dad “choosing his kids over her” is proof. The fact that she put me in the position of having to let her scream and throw things at me to protect my younger brother, because the alternative was letting her hurt him instead, is proof. The fact that I self-harmed for nearly a decade because of her and only got clean when I moved 3,000 miles away (what a coincidence!) is proof.

She’s fucking sick and is never going to be anything approaching a good mother to me because she doesn’t see me as me, she just makes me the lightning rod for her anger whenever she gets pissed off. When she’s pissed off, I’m an emotional punching bag, and when she’s hurting I’m a substitute therapist who will do all the emotional heavy lifting for her because she fucking knows how to use my compassion and guilt complex against me.

She has reasons, in her head, for why I’m so awful and deserving of her anger, which it took me years to learn weren’t actually excuses because I was a CHILD and she had no right to hold shit against me. And I know the truth is that she’s never proud of me because she doesn’t actually want my success- especially not when my sister doesn’t have it. She treats me the best, the nicest, when I fail, because that’s what she wants for me, even if she pretends otherwise. She’s sick and she’s so determined to play victim for her whole fucking life that she will never NOT be sick this way.

And I’m even sicker than she is because I still try after all these years. The real definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. I just keep getting my hopes up that one day, I will say the magic words that will make her actually be supportive. Like if I get a magical piece of paper to show her she’ll think I’m actually worth something, but she never will and I’m an idiot for hoping. If she hasn’t got it by now, she never will. My dad loves me for me, my brothers loves me for me, my grandma loves me for me, my aunts and uncles and cousins love me for me, my friends love me for me- it’s just my mom who can’t figure out that I’m worth more than what I can do for her.

Fuck her. I’m either going to go to grad school or I’m not, but whatever I do will be awesome. I might act or play the violin or write plays or I might study ethnomusicology, or who knows, maybe I will go through with this public health stuff. Either way I’ll be surrounded with people who actually see me for me and are capable of feeling joy at my accomplishments. Maybe I’ll stupidly keep trying to include her, but I’ll have others around me when she inevitably disappoints me yet again. And she can’t say the same because she drives everyone who might care about her away.

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