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airi-p4 · 2 years

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Hi! It’s been a while since I wrote something, huh? I guess I’ve been (and I still am) having a writers block, but I’ve been feeling more inspired this week (vacation sure helps yay!), so I wrote this silly idea I had.

It’s totally CRACK / random with Adrien / Chat Noir salt just because. I hope it ended up making sense? ^^;

Warning: Adrien/Chat Noir salt, Crack fic, canon-divergence (Plagg and Tikki don’t know the other heroes secret identities + Master Fu is the Guardian) Summary: Plagg decides he’s had enough of Adrien, so he finds his way to choose a new user for his Miraculous. Just not in standard ways…

AO3

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This wasn't how Luka had expected the night to go.

He had been first, tied up, and then, thrown and locked in a locker from a supply room down Paris' sewers. By Ladybug. She had thought he was an akuma. And Luka… well, he hadn't expected his first meeting with the famous superhero to go like that. He couldn't say he wasn't really surprised either, though.

Now, Ladybug was talking- arguing- with his newly acquitted kwami, clear and loud, outside the closet he was trapped in.

"What's the meaning of this, Plagg! Where's Chat Noir!?"

"I left him" the God answered, unbothered.

"What-!? Are you crazy!? Why!?" Ladybug demanded.

Luka knew exactly what was coming, since he just had this conversation one hour ago…

"He was hurting my reputation"

"What…?"

"The self-sacrifice, the flirting, the jokes… I'm the god of destruction not the gag of destruction! I should be feared, not pitied or made fun of!"

"But-"

"C’mon! You defeat almost all of the akumas by yourself, Bug girl! Some people even call my power useless. You hear? They call me useless!" He groaned. "How am I not supposed to take action!? My pride has been deeply hurt!"

Ladybug was silent, and Luka imagined she had been as speechless as he had been when he first heard the God’s reasons too. Plagg was being even more dramatic than he had been with him, but he couldn't deny it- the kwami was right. Chat Noir had made questionable choices during akuma fights, and kids liked him for his goofy side. Pure entertainment. A joke.

"But- what about him? Who is he…?" Ladybug asked, pointing at the closet, Luka imagined. "And what about the previous Chat?"

"He's my new wielder. He'll be your partner from now on" Plagg answered. "The other Chat will have to accept it and learn from his mistakes. You should be happy you won't have to reject him anymore!"

That last part was new for Luka. Reject? All Paris thought they were dating. All media sources claimed so, even the very same Chat Noir! Suddenly he was feeling better about him being powerless now.

"What?" She asked, and Luka could almost see her wide eyes in his imagination. "Why him?"

Oh- that was a funny one…

"Why me?" Luka asked, looking at the kwami, just one hour ago.

"Because you have the ring" Plagg answered, flat and short.

"Wait wait wait! It can't be so- simple!"

Luka paused to remember how he got in that situation.

It had all been Juleka's fault.

And his own too, probably.

Juleka had been crying over her crushed dream and never being able to become what she wanted to, and Luka, as the good supportive big brother he was, comforted her, assuring her that she could be whatever she wanted to be.

It turned out she wanted to become a witch. Cast spells, summon familiars, make potions… Luka partly regretted his words. Mostly because it led Juleka to secretly attempt black sorcery and cast a spell for him to find love and be happy, as gratitude for his support. For said spell, she used his favorite ring and... it somehow ended up deep down the waters of the Seine.

Luka had been heroically holding his grudge to jump to the gross river to rescue his precious possession, but he changed his mind and gave up on it when he saw Juleka happily kiss her longtime crush Rose. 'At least the spell worked for Juleka' he shrugged, resignated.

As time went by, he missed fidgeting with his ring, and that's when he decided to buy a cheap one online to cover for the old one. Was it Ebay? Wallapop? He couldn’t remember, but said ring turned out to be the black cat Miraculous…

"I just bought a second-hand ring online! Anyone could have bought it! Even Hawk Moth himself!" Luka protested.

Plagg crossed his tiny legs before calmly answering. "Anyone would have been better than the previous Chat Noir, to be honest. And if it had been Hawk Moth, I would have been able to cataclysm them on the spot, so that wouldn't have been bad, really" Plagg's eyes burned in excitement for a moment, but then he sighed and looked back at Luka again with a tiny smile. "But it was you. So it's your responsibility now. You're going to be Paris' new superhero, my partner and fight alongside Ladybug. You should be honored!"

"Honored!? You can't be serious!" Luka was losing his mind. "You can't just shove me with unwanted responsibilities and expect me to accept! I'm busy and I'm not a hero! I've never wanted to become one! Not even as a child!"

"Everyone has a hero they admire. You can get ideas or inspiration from them" Plagg affirmed. Luka couldn't deny he had a hero… just not the type the kwami had in his mind.

"Look- yes, there's someone I admire. But he's not the typical hero. He's eccentric, chaotic, charismatic and talented, but he's a rock star that plays the guitar and lives with a crocodile. What do you expect me to do based on that!?" His arms opened wide as he walked around his cabin. "I'm not even fit!"

"Just roll with it, boy! It will be thrilling. And fun. Plus you'll be admired and famous. And don't worry about your physical condition, my powers will cover that" Plagg affirmed. "I'll be respected and feared again, with a mysterious touch. Paris will be safer and we won't have to cry for any other Parisian loss"

"Loss...?" Plagg's last sentence gave Luka shivers. "You mean saving Paris and Parisians from… death? Me…?"

"You and Ladybug, yes. She's the one with the Miraculous cure. If she's out, the damages caused by akumas can't be restored. Even fatalities."

He sat down in a meditation pose. That was a lot to sink in.

Paris… and Ladybug. That was a very heavy weight to carry on anyone's shoulders. Considering how the previous Chat Noir was, he couldn't help but feel sorry and sympathize with Ladybug. A young girl carrying such responsibility… the weight of the world on her shoulders… all alone.

Luka's sense of justice was too strong to say no.

"Ok. I'll do it. For Paris."

"Good! Now let me teach you the basics and how to transform. Think well, because the suit you imagine is the one you'll wear every time you transform from now on." Luka nodded and Plagg continued. "C'mon, Ladybug is waiting for us in the sewers."

"The sewers…?"

……

"This is unbelievable! Why didn't you just tell me or Master Fu!? We would have looked for a replacement ourselves instead of leaving everything to chance? To luck?" Ladybug groaned. "I'm sure Master Fu would have known someone!"

"Well, that would have been difficult. I don't know you under the mask. Neither where you or Master Fu live. And I can't talk to you if Ad-" a couple of bubbles left his mouth. "If the previous Chat Noir was always transformed around you. I had no choice" Plagg explained. "Besides, Master Fu already chose the previous Chat Noir, so…"

She couldn't disagree.

"And how can we be sure we can trust him?"

"Do you really prefer to have the previous Chat Noir around instead?" Plagg asked, and Ladybug gulped. "See? You don't! Of course not! Me neither! He’s cool!"

"But still-" Ladybug continued. "There's no reason to involve anyone else. I could have managed all alone!"

"You’re wrong" Luka finally spoke, from inside the locker. "If you fall, it's game over. There's no way you can carry all of this weight alone. Let me help you."

"Eh?" Ladybug sounded surprised. "I can't-"

A sudden tremble interrupted them.

"An akuma!" Ladybug gasped, and Plagg flew toward Luka. "Plagg!"

"You want to know if he's worthy to be your superhero partner, right? This is the perfect time to find out!" Plagg crossed the door and unlocked the lock, leaving a puzzled Ladybug behind. "Say the words, kid!"

"Plagg, claws out!"

There was a flash of green, and soon, the new Black Cat Miraculous user stepped out of the locker. He looked at Ladybug's unconvinced eyes and spoke again.

"Look. I'm just as shocked about all this as you are and I can't ask you to trust me yet. But there's an akuma right there and now is not the time for this. Paris needs help and we're the only ones who can stop the villain. So let's go and you can give the Miraculous to someone else if you prefer once the fight is over. I never asked for this, but I can't keep still knowing I can stop people from getting hurt!"

Ladybug seemed moved by his words. When was the last time anyone near her paid real attention to akuma attacks? It seemed like ages since someone aside from her had actually cared for Paris and it's citizens. It was… refreshing. And reassuring. And correct: they had no time to waste.

"O- ok! We'll talk later. Let's go!" Ladybug ran, gesturing for the new cat to follow her. He obeyed.

…….

The akuma had been, unsurprisingly, the previous Chat Noir, with his same appearance and powers. He was angry that he lost the Miraculous and, more than that, how he wouldn't be able to see Ladybug daily anymore. Luka couldn't help but feel even more relieved Plagg left him, seeing the destruction he was causing as he moved around the city.

It surprised Ladybug how the new Chat Noir didn't jump to the battle carelessly. He seemed tactical- a planner. A strategist, like she was. His fists clenched in anger, but he stayed collected, focused. And she appreciated it. The previous Chat Noir would have already been turned into ashes.

Ladybug called for her lucky charm and soon, she came out with an unbelievable plan and bravely and admirably took him out with the new cat's help. Luka was dazzled by the girl. No wonder Chat Noir and half of Paris fell for her… wow… Extraordinary.

Something sounded very wrong in Ladybug's heart when the previous Chat Noir was revealed to be Adrien Agreste. Disappointment. Betrayal. Distrust. There were more emotions that escaped Luka's knowledge, but when they were back alone again, in the sewers, and she started crying, he was more than glad to lend her his shoulder and support.

Paris' unbreakable superhero cried.

Weak, fragile.

Human.

Traits people seemed to pretend didn't exist or to avoid acknowledging her with the excuse of the girl being a superhero. A facade she had to keep to make Paris' ungrateful citizens feel safe.

She kept crying for a long while, and that was Luka's turning point. He decided he was never going to let her cry like that again. He would share her burden and keep her safe. Not only for Paris, but also for the young girl behind the mask. Because, after all, she was a person under the mask. Not a superhero. Just like him.

"Feel better?" Luka asked, when her shoulders stopped shaking. Ladybug nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Yes. Thank you…" Ladybug finally said. "Thank you for not judging me… partner" There was a sweet blush under her mask Luka couldn’t perceive, but he welcomed her honest smile.

"You’re welcome" Luka smiled, relieved. "Count on me anytime you need a shoulder to lean on, partner"

………………

Marinette couldn't believe herself. It wasn't like her to trust strangers, or to expose her weakness to them that easily. Sure, she had gone through a lot that day. Adrien being Chat Noir… It made her feel like she had been crushing on a lie.

What was real? Who could she trust?

She had no answers, but there was something about that new cat superhero that gave her hope… He was accessible. Supportive. Caring. Warm. Understanding. Reliable… she had been missing those more than she even realized.

‘Oh-’ she had never asked him for his superhero name, she realized. She would have to next time. That was really something to look forward to. Plus, she felt lighter.

She giggled as she covered herself with her blanket, Tikki smiling beside her.

………..

"Hey Plagg," Luka asked. "Is there anything else I should know about the Miraculous?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like- Is it true the Black Cat and the Ladybug Miraculous are meant to be, like Adrien said?" Luka strummed his guitar.

"Nah." Plagg said, swallowing a piece of camembert. "That's irrelevant. What really matters is the compatibility of the people under the mask. The Miraculous have nothing to do with that" Plagg's answer relieved Luka. “Adrien made that up in his head. Do not worry about it, kid”

Luka hadn’t planned to fall in love. Especially not with his superhero partner. But after weeks of becoming closer… best friends… he couldn't deny his feelings of love for the girl. Wouldn't Plagg get angry if he knew? Wouldn't Ladybug be bothered as well if he confessed? It was good enough to spend time with her. Maybe someday, if Hawkmoth finally gets defeated…

……….

And that time arrived: after a few months, HawkMoth was defeated. No more evil. No more akumas.

And maybe Juleka's witchcraft spell worked out in the end.

Because Luka found out his feelings for the superhero girl were mutual right after the final fight. He was in love and happy. Just like his sister had wished for.

And not only that: he was also grateful his favorite ring still laid down the Seine. He wished for it to always stay underwater. Maybe it was silly, because he was more than sure he would have found his way to Marinette anyway, and fall in love with her even if no masks were involved, but he wanted this peaceful happiness to last forever.

And it did.

Fin

#my fic #airip4 #random ml fanfic #adrien salt #lukanette fic #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #crack fic - don't take it too seriously #Freya enabled me in case you want to know who to blame / thank for this

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immanenteffigy · 3 years

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I know Cyberverse is just an objectively bad series but I really had some hope for it because it took a lot of very common Transformers tropes and twisted them around into something new. I thought that part was fun! Even though it wasn’t well executed most of the time, it was entertaining with how ridiculous and out of left field it was. However, as most of you know, I’m a very big Starscream fan. He’s my favorite character in almost every Transformers media I’ve ever consumed, so I pay a lot of attention to his character. And lemme say. The way Cyberverse handled Starscream’s character was probably one of the worst ways I’ve seen a series handle him.

Warning for some spoilers for season 2 and 3.

So I never expected much from the writing of Cyberverse because it was just. Really chaotic and all over the place and often times shit just happened because. It just did. No explanation. However, there were some moments where the writing was good. Like. REALLY good. I thought most of Starscream’s arc during the first two seasons was super interesting! He got mistreated, he finally had enough, he fought back, he ended up fake dying by Megatron’s hand, he came back, he took the Allspark to be more powerful, and then, and then miraculously! He was STILL ALIVE after that! And Bumblebee even WENT OUT OF HIS WAY to bring him back alive! I really really really thought that was the writers setting up a chance for a, dare I say, STARSCREAM REDEMPTION ARC??? I was so fucking hopeful! There was even a moment where Starscream was getting a little soft, a little vulnerable while he was in jail, and he even helped the autobots figure out how to work with the Allspark! I was like YO! This has so much potential!

And then he broke out of the ship. And then he was taken away on the side of a Titan. And then he was. Turned into...a giant tentacle head creature that was honestly really fucking ugly and that entire arc in the third season was just so fuckin out of place and had NO business being there like! UGH. It’s so very frustrating. BUT! I still had a teeny little sparkle of hope. I knew the SECOND Megatron left to go to another universe the writers were going to make him return last minute to help! I don’t know WHY he as a character, after saying he was off to conquer another universe, would RETURN just to COMPROMISE. BUT GO OFF I GUESS. And then. It happened.

A fleeting moment during the final battle with Starscream where Megatron said “Starscream, I have mistreated you all this time.” and i was like YES! YES THIS IS IT! He’s going to take responsibility for what he pushed Starscream to do and maybe, just MAYBE they’re going to work out their differences and Starscream will get a redemption arc. There are still like ten more episodes! It can happen! But then this mfer says, “But now I have to destroy you.” And then like, ya know, bam. Starscream’s dead.

So, to recap, Megatron, who on screen beat the ever loving shit out of Starscream, genuinely attempted to kill him, showed very little remorse about doing so, attempted to leave this universe for dead in order to conquer another universe, came back, ACKNOWLEDGED that Starscream’s actions were partly his own fault due to the way he treated him- HE gets to roam free and move on with life. But Starscream, who was, I admit, in the wrong, but was pushed to his mental and emotional limits and driven to this power hungry state and never once had his character properly examined in order to work through his issues- he gets to die. And at the hand of his own abuser, no less. And that’s it. That’s it. That’s LITERALLY it.

I genuinely really enjoyed the wacky, nonsensical badly written parts of Cyberverse for a while, but honestly? This just really rubbed me the wrong way. Especially when there were several instances where it felt like the writers were promising something more. It’s so disappointing. Please, for anyone out there that sees this that EVER plans on writing for a piece of TF media, just like. Give us a good fucking Starscream redemption arc. For once don’t let his character end in torture tragedy. Let him fuckin learn and be better.

#cybverse #rant #ramble #long post #transformers #starscream

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off-in-the-moors · 3 years

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It is not the responsibility of art to be morally instructive. It is 100% YOUR responsibility to research something if you know you are a sensitive person, take responsibility for your self. Art does not need to be some clinical sanitized morality play, get over your weird Puritanical obsession that all art must conform to your specific world view. Either engage in challenging works or stick to children’s cartoons where you can feel ‘safe’.

Dear Anon,

I’m truly confused by this. I have no idea what are you referencing and what “inspired“ you to send me this “ask“. But I will do my best to give you something.

(It only took me this long to answer, bc I don’t log in very often.)

Let’s start with your assumption of me.

I’m not a sensitive person, in any meaning. I actually love reading and engaging in media that’s morally questionable or straight up morbid and disturbing. Some of my favorite thing are: paintings by Goya and Beksiński, folklore/mythology (in it’s most unchanged form), “Perfume“ both film and book, Hannibal tv series, true crime, to name a few. Your assumption that I’m just “a girl obsessed and only enjoying modern cartoons“ is insulting.

I actually do agree with you that art, in any form, isn’t responsible to be morally instructive, but every work of art is made to send some form of message, be an obvious one or hidden between pages. In my opinion, authors and writers should be aware of what message they want to send with their works and what messages they are sending with what and how they’re presenting.

On your “It is 100% YOUR responsibility to research something if you know you are a sensitive person, take responsibility for your self“ this is also true. But on the other hand, given media should provide you with some kind of warning and not a third party entity. For example, if I pick-up a YA book from a bookstore, bc of its synopsis or someone (be a person I know or a creator) recommended it to me, I don't expect "spicy" scenes or blatant a*use of a character by its love interest or just "torture p*rn" scenes in it but here they are. With no warning. Is it my fault? Partly yes. Is it the media's fault for not giving me any warnings? Also yes.

Even with researching "warnings" isn't that simple. When it comes to books, the only way is reading reviews or recommendations. With reviews, they're either positive and say nothing book related or are negative and full of spoilers. Recommendations nowadays most of the time don't even give you what the story is about, just "it has x, y and z in it", let alone "warnings". From my own experience, they either don't tell you about "unappropriated" stuff (be r*pe, d*ug a*use, a*use, etc.) or they down play them and in worst cases, excuse it or say "it gets better/it's addressed in the next book/later in the series".

But if you feel the need to micromanage everything you engage in, go for it. But most people don't and a warning would be nice.

(This of course doesn't apply to thing and character's actions deemed "problematic". If said stuff is well handled and addressed, it's perfectly ok to portray it. But again, if it addressed and/or showed as wrong, and not ignored, excused, or played as a joke.)

I don't know from where you took the "your weird Puritanical obsession", bc 1) I never petitioned for that in my posts, and 2) I'm actually against censuring and sanitation of media.

Now, on to what "inspired" you to write this.

Again, I have no f-clue. So here are my best guesses:

If it's about Pathologic: I only have problem with people forcing their politics, modern sentiments and opinions/interpretations on to something they don't fully understand, because they're from a different cultural climate. An American can't fully (or in some cases, refuses to) understand something made by Europeans (in this case Russians) for Europeans in mind. I don't want to mix myself into the fandom discourse/drama, because I don't care what people think or how they interpret stuff, even if it's taken from something minor or from nowhere with no support (or even is debunked) in canon. I don't care if people like or hate this one character. Just don't police people for liking things, you don't like. Nor do public shaming or send people on those you don't agree with. You don't like a pixel man on platform shoes? Fine. Just don't bully and attack people who do.

If it's about my post about B*rdugo's adult book: I will admit, the wording and presentation wasn't the best. I was writing it from a place of strong emotions, but I'm still standing by my opinion that some things should not be presented with graphic details in a book without any type of warning. Here we could have a discussion about trigger warnings in books, hers response to the idea of putting them on her book and what is consider "too far", but this isn't about that. I actually have a lot of problems with B*rdugo and her fan-base, besides that. Her use of Russia, it's history, religion iconography and culture only for aesthetic and not doing proper research (she called her series "Greg's trilogy") or showing any respect for it (with characters, how are not main and secondary characters, a Slavic stereotype); her portray of dyslexia and how the fandom likes to use it as a joke in relation to this character; or people shielding her from any form of criticism with "She's is xyz, so she can write this". But I don't care about her and her works.

I stopped reading YA books, because I can't stand them any longer and their "handling" of topics, with people holding up every-single-one as "the best book ever written", not because of the quality or story but because the author is xyz, and spitting at every book written before 2000s. I'll get flag for it but YA novels are the Pulp fiction of our times (of course not all, but most of the popular ones are). I stopped trusting people recommending them to me, because 90% of the time, I'm just disappointed by them.

If it's about K and TRC: I already said so much about this. Margaret isn't aware of her audience, she writes for herself (which she admitted on a podcast) and refuses to change it to please anyone. She created and killed K for two reasons: to further Ronan's character arc (to be used for teaching him to dream better and a (not working) foil of him (or Adam... or Gansey)) and as her weird catharsis of killing everything she hates (who she apparently was; "fratty boys and chortling men") personified as one boy (and yes, boy, because this fandom likes to forget he’s only seventeen, the same age as the Gangsey. If you excuses their actions, like Ronan and Adam’s racist jokes or Gansey’s toxic behaviors towards Adam with “they’re just teenagers”, why K is excluded from being a stupid teen?). With Jordan, it's now obvious that she has a bias of suffering/dealing with your trauma (and addiction) "in the right way", of which in her eyes, K wasn't. She could not create K or she could not make him a harmful stereotype of a Slav, but she did. In a book targeted at 13-18 year olds, we have a drug-addicted boy committing a public s*icide and being demonized and forgotten by everyone.

But I'm done with this fandom, I never had a place in it. TRC fandom is 80% P*nch with a 1% being about K, but even this little corner is "too much" for the stans. I left for a reason, the only thing I regret is not apologizing for my out-burst. If someone who knows what I’m referencing is reading this, I’m truly sorry.

So, yea. I hope, I addressed your issue, Anon.

#ask anon #ask #pathologic #anti leigh bardugo #anti trc #anti maggie stiefvater

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confinedmadness · 4 years

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Crash Landing On You

I finally got around to watching this drama!! I’ve been on a Chinese drama phase recently, partly because I wanted to surround myself with the language because I’ve been learning Mandarin. So yeah, I haven’t watched a Korean drama in a while.

But after so many friends telling me to watch this, it was my dad (who has never watched a korean drama before) asking to talk to me about this series that convinced me to finally start it.

SPOILERS BELOW

Hyun Bin and Son Ye-Jin’s chemistry is amazing <3 <3

Ri Jeong Hyeok is honestly such a kind character. Sometimes he’s kind to a fault, but it’s not like he’s an angel. I just love witnessing that sort of kindness, even in a fictional character.

I love that Yoon Se-Ri is a hardworking, independent woman. She’s over-the-top rich, but she’s not spoiled. She’s smart and willing to put in the work, open to trying and learning new things, and eager (even if slightly scared) to experience the unknown.

I honestly don’t know how the writers and Son Ye Jin managed to portray a balance in Se-Ri that allowed her to state clearly and show without question her high status and wealth without being an annoying showoff.

While i’m sad that Gu Seong Joon died, I’m glad the writers didn’t feel the need to find ways (perhaps even ridiculous ones) for him to stay alive

I do feel so bad we didn’t get a happy Seo Dan x Alberto Gu ending tho </3

Pyo Chi Su and Yoon Se-Ri’s banters give me life. They are so funny, and lovable, and so much fun to watch.

I love the fact that after that one time Se-Ri told Eun Dong that 17-year-olds shouldn’t drink alcohol, he opted for drinking juice in a later scene when they were offered alcohol.

I actually really like how Gwang Beom is that constant reliable presence in the group. He’s portrayed as the handsome one. (and he is!) But I often think of him as the responsible one. Jeong Hyeok also seems to put a lot of trust in him. I was so thankful Se-ri also expressed concern about his injuries after the gunshots because too often dramas put too much focus on the leads and I just hate it when the side character is forgotten especially when they were also affected by events.

Ju Muk was such an enjoyable character. I love that he served as the unofficial translator for both Se-ri and the rest of the guys, not only in terms of language but also cultural differences. I love how when Se-ri awarded him, she immediately knew he’d go for the chance to have a date with Choi Ji-woo instead of getting Jeong Hyeok’s TV.

My absolute favorite is the fact that Se-ri not only has scenes with just Jeong Hyeok, but there are also many scene with her and just the other 4 soldiers in the team (no Jeong Hyeok). I love that her relationship with them is related to but not connected by her relationship with Jeong Hyeok. Most of my favorite scenes actually are of them.

Like that picnic they had, going impromptu fishing because Se-ri refused to eat the pig, and Pyo Chi Su reading a rather sweet poem to her.

Or when they had clams and soju in Jeong Hyeok’s house and played word games.

Or when they reunited in South Korea and they just had that beautiful group hug.

Or when Se-ri gave them lots of gifts and allowed them to use her credit card for anything, but all the boys did was buying normal things (to their credit, they thought they were already buying a lot).

Or when they wanted to surprise and celebrate Se-ri’s birthday and they sang her the North Korean birthday song <3

Or when they shouted goodbyes to Se-ri across the border :(( Eun Dong’s finger hearts <3 <3

Jeong Man Bok as character is another favorite. Love the moral problems that his character’s experiences present. Also love the fact that once he calms down from his guilt, we are shown a really adorable innocence in him.

That scene when Se-ri was in Jeong Hyeok’s family house and talking with his father was hilarious!! I just can’t, Se-ri XD I loved the surprised looks in Jeong Hyeok’s parents when they see how much the two care for each other. I also love that Se-ri asked Jeong Hyeok to apologize to his father.

The village people were such a funny bunch. I love the sense of community among them despite the ups and downs. Seeing communities like this always makes me feel nostalgic. It’s not something so easy to find/belong to when one is in a big city. Moving away from the countryside wasn’t as hard for me as others, but seeing this does make you miss a lot of things.

“A rich man has heirs, but no sons.” is a quote that left a surprising impact in me.

Urgh, I’m sure I had so so so so much more to say.

#posts #review #kdrama #korean #drama #crash landing on you #hyun bin #son ye jin #kim jung hyun #seo ji hye #ri jeong hyeok #yoon se ri

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dramionediscussion · 4 years

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I don’t think Hermione is perfect, but I can see where people are coming from with that. Closely related to that, admittedly she is JKR’s self-insert, which is relevant, but I don’t think in a way I see it often levied against her. That word and especially its manifestation Mary Sue gets thrown around a lot these days, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with self-inserts. If one has humility, introspectiveness, and honesty to truly examine and portray themselves truthfully, with all their follies and flaws displayed openly at the world. Realistic self-inserts after all are full-fledged and multidimensional characters, and it has been done well often by many authors throughout ages (like Agatha Christie or Kurt Vonnegut to name a few). Presenting highly idealized and (unrealistically) flattering portray of oneself, and then living out one’s fantasies vicariously through that fictitious avatar is entirely different matter. Regardless of exact nature of those fantasies (be them power fantasies, or erotic, or romantic, or just world, etc. Whatever ends up in those “then everyone clapped”-moments). It would be a stretch and unfair to describe JKR and Hermione like that. My theory for Hermione is that she started out more closely as a somewhat authentic if not exaggerated portrayal of her younger self at earlier books. Slowly as the series progresses JKR became ever more attached and fond of Hermione as a character independent of herself and her own life history. Earlier books Hermione’s flaws are lot more pronounced, and they also feel a lot more raw and personal. They get ironed out, refined and almost sublimated, to a point that while they are never entirely absent, they are so muted at the end that might not even be there. In the earlier books she frequently comes off as awkward, overconfident, precocious, tactless, stubborn, self-righteous, and she often totally lacks subtlety and doesn’t seem be at all aware of her actions are perceived by others. She also lacks humility, when her own moral intuition and sense of justice is concerned. To a degree, she gave her something of an idealized past and certain experiences she probably wished she would’ve had (like the princess moment at the Yule Ball. I don’t know if she fantasied of being belle of the ball exactly like that, but in general an experience of being desired and beautiful). Despite those certain indulgences, there’s brutal honesty there as well (her classroom behavior, S.P.E.W., etc.) Yet, as books went on, It never reads like a narcissistic projection of the self, but more like an attachment between parent and child, protégé and mentor, biographer and biographee, teacher and favorite pupil, or author and her favorite character. It’s not unrealistic ofc, that when people grow older, they mature and their personality flaws are at least tempered, or they entirely grow out of them. However, usually something else comes along molded by new experiences and circumstances, thus even if people don’t have problems they had as young, something or other comes along to fill that void. Hermione is not entirely without fault even in later books, but often even when she’s wrong her thoughts are well-founded and usually even partially right (like with Draco as a Death Eater. She was technically wrong, but it’s not like Draco was a Death Eater in a way Bellatrix or even his father was, which totally was the way Harry thought he was). When she acts childishly or selfishly she usually is justified at least somewhat. Ultimately her errors are quite inconsequential compared to Harry and Ron. I believe, it was partly because JKR had become so much more fond of her, that she simply didn’t have heart to give her defects, hardships and failures as much as she had in the beginning. It was a gradual shift without a clear turning-point, but it never goes to the total extreme that she’s absolutely flawless and perfect, nonetheless the process is there. Closest to a turning point is perhaps the Yule Ball, though despite everything, I always found it to be kind of sweet and fluffy in itself rather than self-indulgent. What was more came afterwards, when she kind of dismissed it, because you see it’s not like she’s vain about her looks. I mean, she totally could be pretty, if she just wished so, and paid enough attention to her appearance. But no no, she’s not superficial like all those other simpering girls. Yet, she totally could be because she’s naturally pretty beneath it all. I would totally win, only if I bothered to even play is kind of an ultimate flex. Another major element for this is the genre of Harry Potter series is. It is a coming-of-age story, and a school drama as well, but above all else, the overarching narrative is a fantasy adventure. The main-plot is the struggle against and an ultimate defeat of evil antagonist. The main plot becomes ever more relevant as the series goes on, to the final conclusion of the Deathly Hallows, which is devoted almost entirely to it. This affects characterizations, not only that the trio are heroic protagonist, who overcome obstacles and perform extraordinary feats and heroic deeds against all odds. It’s given that even if they do mistakes, and don’t always win, they’ll triumph and succeed in a way, that wouldn’t be appropriate if it was just a drama, or a realistic depiction of teenagers. This is especially true for both Harry and Hermione at the later books (little less for Ron, but he’s there). They are going to be way more competent, capable, virtuous and lucky than teenagers or children that age would be realistically, or most other literary genres. Second effect is sort of economics of a story. At the later books, so much has to be allocated to the main plot, with all its many intricacies. Events have to be told, and one has to build up everything up from the Macguffins to Voldemort himself, and then resolve all it. Less and less time and attention can be devoted into Hermione’s backstory (or anybody’s), or interpersonal drama or individualized character development. In my opinion earlier books stroke a much better balance than the later ones between these different elements. Or perhaps I just never found the main-plot or the Second Wizarding War (my God, it could even abbreviated as WW2) to be all that interesting or compelling. Also, as HP become more about this epic fantasy adventure, and less about growing up, being in a school and the interpersonal drama, fitting in, finding and forming friendships, and so on. As this happened, I am quite sure that Hermione become more divorced from JKR’s own experiences and her self-insert as Hermione. Even if it is a magical school, it is still a school, with all the anxiousness about friends, future, crushes and dating, school work, teachers, etc. It’s easier to project yourself in that common setting such as a school is, rather than riding dragons and breaking into banks and hunting down and destroying evil magical artifacts. I can understand, why writing Hermione become more difficult, as environment and rhythm of books changed considerably from more familiar to more fantastic, and I can see how especially Hermione didn’t make the transition as well, because she was more heavily grounded into former. I can see why in its entirety Hermione comes of as a little contradictory, because there’s truth to both claims that she’s at the same time too perfect and that she’s multifaceted and complex. There’s interesting core to her character, and there’s a lot of material and potential to work with. Unfortunately, due many aforementioned reasons JKR didn’t manage to realize that potential and set-up she had constructed. I don’t think it was an utter failure, even at the latter books, but missed opportunities and unrealized potential were many. I didn’t meant to write JKR or canon apologia here, but I don’t detest either of them. There’s clearly something there, both to Hermione and canon, but it’s kind of uneven and conflicting at the times. A mixed bag, but usually that’s most interesting starting point for a fanfiction, unlike a perfection or fiasco. Trying to turn shit into gold is not worth of the effort, but neither is trying to fiddle around a divine masterpiece. I’ve always felt that fanfiction actually benefits, if author has left a lot of ground uncovered and has some internal contradictions, which gives way for different possibilities and avenues for fanfiction writers to broaden horizons and deepen characterizations, and fulfill those missed potentialities. If HP was this crown jewel of perfection by all means, solely without any missed potentialities or loose ends, then I probably wouldn’t even be interested in reading fanfiction about it. As it would’ve been done so wonderfully in canon, that fanfiction could never match up in comparison, and there wouldn’t be room for other attempts (couldn’t imagine reading Dostoevsky fanfiction as an example). I’ve always held, that one main reason why Draco as an example is so prominent and popular in fanfiction, is because he fit so comfortably in that perfect sweetspot of canon coverage. He’s not Theodore Nott, which has almost no hooks or knowable features, but neither is he Harry, who’s so well and extensively covered, that I’d find it suffocating to write in his perspective. P.S. If there’s one thing JKR didn’t spoil her was romance lol. No hot steaming affairs or a passionate romances for her. Not even giving her that cultured and sophisticated (if a bit dangerous) chad vying for her attention, who is inexplicably attracted to her, and ends up worshiping her. Actually, it’s not like she even got a sugary and mushy teenage dating treatment either. Awkward courting, necking at the make-out point, him carrying her books and suddenly developing uncharacteristic interest at the schoolwork and library. What was there, jealously and couple grand gestures at the end. Poor girl. I’ve always wondered whether JKR meant to write Romione as she did with Hinny. A little schmaltzy, “then the best friends, the heroine and heroine fell in love, and got married and lived happily ever after”-affair (kind of fitting for a fantasy adventure novels primary aimed for children and YAs. Hinny was ok I suppose as compatibility goes, but Romione in the other hand… well the basic idea if not characters chosen were acceptable). Or was it suppose to be a gritty realism, more in line with her self-insert, in which the smart girl gets roped in by almost the first guy she’s ever into, who’s actually really unfit for her.

#dramione #this is a very good take on things!#submission

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supernatural-rewatch-3 · 4 years

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Moriah

Oh how innocent I once was. Back when I first heart Chuck/God was coming back in this episode and I was think ‘Oh thank God, everything’s going to be fine’...as if I forgot what freaking show I was watching for the last 14 years!

So Jack leaves and Cas and Sam turn to Dean for what is next. However Cas is really upset with Dean’s answer because Dean says that he wanted Jack dead and to him Jack is just a monster now. Cas leaves to find Jack on his own and Sam agrees to help Dean. Meanwhile Jack is so done with lies that he makes it so no where on the Earth can anyone lie.

Sam and Dean are looking for Jack and we get the first hint about the no lying when Sam says Dean is a nerd and apparently is an avid watcher of Jeopardy...didn’t see that one coming. Then Dean approaches a secretary to straight up say “I’m Dean Winchester and I’m looking for the Devils Son’, adding that his FBI badge is fake after trying again. Then we over hear a really bad conversation an Dean asks Sam for his favorite singer and wow would Balthazar be disappointed. Then again he would have had to have expectations of Sam and Dean to be disappointed by them. As the office descends into chaos, which is pretty hilarious with the guy who just jumps up saying ‘right here’ to ‘who ate my pudding’ and the stapler queen on the floor; we barricade into an office where we learn Donald Trump had publicly announced his tax fraud, ties to Korea and Russia, and a demon deal he made with Crowley...wonder when the bill comes due for that one. Then a news anchor announces his love and Dean and Sam conclude this ‘no lying thing’ is world wide.

Meanwhile Cas goes to go to Hell but the demons deny him entrance. He was hoping to look at Lucifer’s cage, but poor Cas is not welcome in Heaven, Hell, or even Purgatory. He is approached, to his shock, by Chuck. Chuck takes him to Sam and Dean, explaining along the way that lying keeps the piece and he’s a writer so that is something that they do. He then takes Sam, Dean, and Cas to the bunker where he reverses what Jack did and explains that Jack can end the world. Chuck gives them a gun (I’m with Lilith, I’m not calling it the dumb name Chuck did) and tells them that it will do the same damage to the shooter as the target and one of them will have to kill Jack.

Cas gets upset saying he doens’t know why they are talking about killing Jack when Chuck can fix him. Chuck says he can’t restore souls and Cas suggests then htey can bind Jack or put him in the cage. Honestly Cas? After all the hell you just gave Sam and Dean now your talking about binding him? If Jack is God Level at this point, would Lucifer’s cage even hold him? Especially after it was cracked enough by Amara to let Lucifer’s powers through? The only thing probably strong enough to bind Jack is what they did to Amara, but would they want that? To leave Jack in nothing for all of eternity. Hell Amara said death was the more merciful option.

After Cas leaves to find Jack, Dean goes to his room to drink because he decided that he will follow Chuck’s plan and kill Jack, dying along with him. Of course Sam is against this and honestly I don’t think I could handle anymore death bed goodbyes in a single season. Sam says he understands that Dean is mad. Mary was his mother too and he’s still angry and part of him does want Jack dead for what he did, but Jack is family and Sam still wants to try to save him and he’s not going to lose Jack and Dean in the same day.

Sam goes to talk to Chuck and notice that Chuck is actually giving Sam a lot of information without really saying much. Sam however realizes that Chuck has been watching them when he isn’t there and Chuck says they are his favorite show. Sam realizes he’s scared of Jack and Chuck admits he knows where Jack is. Sam asks what he’s waiting for and Chuck says ‘oh, nothing. Dean already left’ and we know that whole conversation was only mean to keep Sam busy so Dean could go after Jack.

Jack goes to Cas to tell him what’s been going on. Jack knows something isn’t right with him, and he was trying to be good. He tried to make the world a better place, but made it worse. His grandparents don’t like him an he has no other family any more and he keeps messing up. Cas wants them to go somewhere alone to figure it out but Dean arrives. Jack tells them that he can’t run anymore and while Cas wants to stand between them, they don’t want that. Jack tosses Cas aside so him and Dean can deal with this.

Jack kneels down to let Dean kill him, telling Dean that he understands and Dean was right, he’s a monster. Sam and Cas both manage to come back but they can’t do anything. This is all Dean’s choice now. Dean is angry, he’s still furious with Jack for killing Mary and talking like it’s Mary’s fault. Jack is still a threat, someone who has the power to throw the entire world into chaos with a word as they’ve already seen. And Dean can’t bring himself to kill Jack. Because at the end of the day Jack is still family, he’s still his son.

Chuck is furious and Sam, Dean, and Cas all see Chuck in a new light. They realize the most important thing to him is his story and all the pain and suffering they have all been through is because Chuck wrote it that way for his perfect story. Chuck tells Dean to kill Jack and he will bring back Mary.

It’s kin of interesting because looking at their family history, I think Chuck actually thought Dean would do it. After all their maternal grandfather choose to sacrifice his grandsons, even feeding Dean to ghouls, for the possibility of bringing back Mary. They’re paternal grandfather Henry had been willing to abandon Sam and Dean to Abaddon in order to go back in time to try and find a different path for John, who was already dead (until Dean kidnapped him and then he changed his mind). And as a whole Winchesters tend to go above and beyond to bring the dead back; Mary’s demon deal for John; John’s demon deal for Dean; Dean’s demon deal for Sam; Dean and Sam breaking every law of nature to keep bringing each other and Cas back to life. However I think Chuck forgot that to Sam and Dean, their chosen family are just as important. Mary, John, Sam, Henry, Samuel, Millie, and Deanna are Dean’s only blood family. But Dean has a whole hell of a lot more. Charlie, Kevin, Cas, Jack, Ellen, Jo, Jody, Bobby, Alex, Claire, Donna, Patience, only just to name a few (Rowena and Crowley can be added too).

Dean didn’t even hesitate to say no to Chuck’s deal. Because not only could he not sacrifice the scared boy in front of him for Mary, but imagine what kind of hell that would be for Mary. To be ripped away from John again? To be awakened in a cemetery with a distraught Sam and Cas to learn she is alive because Dean killed both himself and Jack?

And Chuck is pissed because Dean was his last chance to get his story. Cas has rejected him from the moment he said the plan was to kill Jack. Sam he lost in the bunker, and Dean he lost in the graveyard. But he was focused on Dean from the start, and that was partly because this whole season started with Dean and Jack being the focus and it ended with them having the stand off and them making the choices. Jack gave Dean the choice of what to do and Dean chose for them both to live.

And Chuck had a little temper tantrum and kills Jack then Sam shot him. Sam literally shot Chuck with a gun that would kill both of them?! What the hell Sam!? We could have lost you and the whole world! And Chuck opens all the gates of Hell and we see Constance, the first hell bound spirit we met in the pilot, Mary Worthington from the fifth episode, and Gacy the last hell bound spirit we met in the episode Lebanon just few episodes ago. Jack wakes in the Empty with the Shadow and Billie and Sam, Dean, and Cas are left in a graveyard with the rising dead, ironically enough Jack’s favorite monster.

#spn 14x20 #moriah #supernatural #chuck shurley #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline

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celticheartedfangirl · 4 years

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My OUAT Rewatch -- S4E19 -- Sympathy for the De Vil

Link to Rewatch Review and Ranking archive

LOL, I loved that scene!

All kidding aside . . . . as Rumple might say . . . . I have a complicated relationship with this episode . . . . .

Okay, first off, Goodman is a writer on this one, and by now you all know how I feel about A&E’s resident Rumple hating, Killy loving buttmonkey. And how I made it clear that it’s quite obvious that whenever a Rumple drag, a Rumbelle drag, or an uplifting of Killybunny is needed, Goodman is their favorite tool to pull out of the drawer.

Well, some Rumple/Rumbelle dragging was needed in this one, so yup, here’s Goodman, wiping his hack stank all over the damn episode.

Well, mainly just THIS scene:

I mean, the first half of it is beautiful. The second half is a hot mess of bullshit. Also WTF Regina!

By the way -- any noobs following my reviews while watching, I won’t usually spoil you, but because this left such a bad taste in my mouth, in this instance I’m gonna spoil you.

The whole “Regina stealing Belle’s heart” thing will NEVER be resolved adequately and Regina will not have to answer for it in any way, shape or form. EVER. You’ve been warned. Cause we expected resolution and didn’t get shit. But hey it’s Belle -- why tell HER story, right?

I’ll be honest -- I hate headcanoning to make sense of stuff with obvious missing scenes, because frankly there shouldn’t BE missing scenes for something this critical to the storyline. That’s shitty writing. Headcanoning shouldn’t be necessary to make sense of the fucking PLOT.

But since we’re dealing with professional hacks here, in this particular case, I’ll make an exception. So here’s my headcanon for the Regina/Belle crap:

Regina goes to Belle asking for help. Then she freezes Belle, takes her heart, unfreezes her, and asks Belle to call Rumple to the well and ask him WTF the deal is.

Belle goes to the well. The first half of that scene is REAL -- it’s REAL Belle, not being controlled by Regina. AFTER the kiss, Regina takes over, makes Belle spew a bunch of hateful bullshit, and then wipes her memory.

That is literally the ONLY way any of that makes sense. And yeah it’s a backslide for Regina but as I said . . . . you think they care? No. All they care about is tearing down Rumple. And these clowns just used Belle as a plot device to make that happen. Lord, they suck. And what’s even more aggravating is that at this point, when it first aired, Rumbellers were so desperate for ANYTHING that we just went all in with excitement when the well scene started, only to be once again Charlie Brown to Lucy’s football.

Can’t help but wonder if Belle’s “You’re pathetic” speech was also partly the writers speaking to the Rumbelle fandom. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

So there’s that. There’s also the whole “somehow Emma killing Cruella to protect her CHILD is Rumple’s fault” crap.

Yeppers, that’s ALL RUMPLE’S FAULT. Everything is Rumple’s fault. They should rename the damn show “Once Upon a Let’s See How Rumple is to Blame THIS Week!”

So there’s all of that. But that being said, I really did like the Cruella backstory. So Cruella’s a bad seed, huh? Killed 3 dads, her mom, AND two doggos. And made a freaking COAT out of said doggos. Damn show, that’s DARK!

How is this a family show again? I mean, I don’t dislike dark shows, but Disney, you shouldn’t be marketing this shit to families. Cruella in the movies is played as comic relief. In this show, she’s just a straight up psychopath. I’ll never understand how shit like this got past the censors to qualify as “family viewing.”

Points tally:

40 points to start

10 points for a Rumbelle kiss

5 points for some amazing Swan Queen

5 points for Belle in character based on head canon mentioned above

5 points for Rumple in character when he was in character

5 points deducted for Hook -- you know, those Swan Queen scenes would have been much better without his ass tagging along, doing nothing. Literally he did NOTHING. Go away, lamp!

5 points deducted for the OOC Rumple to balance out the in character -- this show is ridiculous

10 points deducted for Goodman

I’m gonna give the full 25 bonus points for the Rumbelle kiss alone because it’s been forever and I am that pathetic

Just call me Charlie Brown.

But deducting 25 points for the nonsense and shit writing, of which there was a lot.

Total points: 45

Follow #celtichearted OUAT ranking tag for more to come!

#celtichearted ouat ranking #sympathy for the de vil #anti hook #anti ouat writers #regina critical #ouat criticism

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years

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First Contact series - Part 3

Title: First Contact - Part 3 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Some mild cursing A/N: The third installment in the First Contact series gives Jess a surprise third encounter with Taron while at work that somehow leads to more. If you love cute, fluffy Taron, you’ll love this installment. The series will eventually involve more mature themes as it develops, so be warned! I hope you enjoy! x

Beep Beep. Beep Beep.

I groggily reached over to my nightstand and accidentally slapped my phone onto the floor, where the alarm continued to drum into my brain. With a groan, I rolled over and grabbed it from the floor, snoozing the alarm. Just five more minutes ought to do it, right?, I thought blearily, pulling the covers up around my face to block the sunlight already filtering across my floor.

Just as I was about to fall back asleep, Mary burst into my room, making me groan loudly. “Go away,” I mumbled.

“Nope,” she said. “You need to get your arse up. Today’s a big day!” she said, her cheery mood just deepening my grumpiness. Some people were morning people; I was definitely not one of them. I turned over in an effort to ignore her, but she grabbed the edge of the covers and whipped them off the bed, the sudden cold air making me want to curl into a ball and stay there.

“God Mary, why do you have to be such a prat?” I asked, finally sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“It’s not my bloody fault you went and got pissed last night,” she chided.

“Yeah, and you were there right along with me,” I laughed at that, finally swinging my feet to the floor just as my snoozed alarm went off again. “Alright!” I yelled at it, turning it off and then noticing Taron had texted me again. I grinned and blushed lightly over what he’d written, and Mary playfully rolled her eyes.

“Please don’t tell me,” she teased, although she and Jules had been adamant I deliver a constant play-by-play - and given me endless shit over the fact that neither of us had yet to really make a move. It’d been two weeks since the karaoke bar night and we’d been what you could call cautiously flirtatious in our text conversations. But I still hadn’t even gotten up the courage to ask if he was actually seeing anybody else; it wasn’t exactly unheard of to be flirted with by a cute boy who was completely unavailable.

“I’ll respond later,” I smirked, stretching out my back slightly and yawning a bit.

“Well get some clothes on you. I’ve got the coffee going already so let’s get you out the door and onto your first big gig!” Mary grinned, bouncing on her heels a bit in her excitement for me.

I gave her a thumb’s up and she took that as her cue to leave. I brushed my teeth and freshened up my natural curls before rifling through my closet, trying to find a shirt that wasn’t rumpled. I settled on a black pencil skirt paired with a blue-and-white striped button-down, tucked in of course. Professional but not too stuffy, I decided. Still, I didn’t quite feel like my look was finished until I spied the hat I’d managed to “borrow” from Taron; I had every intention of getting it back to him. I picked it up and placed it over my curls, feeling like it gave me a hip and modern vibe, and nodded at myself in the mirror. I finished my makeup and slipped into a pair of basic, sensible pumps.

Mary actually applauded my appearance when I clicked into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup. Jules was apparently still crashed out from the night before. “Fed Tim yet?” I asked, blowing on the steaming liquid before taking a sip and savoring it.

“You think Tim would let me forget that?” she laughed. “Not a chance, the big fatty,” she added affectionately. “Are you nervous?” she asked.

“Plenty. I think I might chuck,” I replied.

Mary crossed her arms and laughed at that. “As long as it’s not on some poor actor’s shoes, I’m sure you won’t get fired,” she teased.

“Not helping!” I groaned.

“Come on. You’ll do great!” Mary grinned.

“About to find out,” I said, taking a few more sips of coffee and trying not to spill it on myself. Stains on my shirt probably wouldn’t be the best accessory for today. “So I really look okay?” I asked her again.

“Yes, for the last time, but you won’t if you’re late,” she smiled, shooing me toward the door. I grabbed my purse and had my hand on the door when Mary cleared her throat. “Forgetting something?” she asked, holding out my laptop bag.

“Shit. I’m a disaster!” I laughed, slinging the strap over my shoulder. “Thank you!” I said before pulling the door open and stepping outside. It was already a muggy summer day and I hoped my hair wouldn’t frizz out too terribly.

“Tell me all about how it goes later!” Mary called as I waved and booked it to catch the bus I needed in time.

Once seated, I put in my earphones and attempted to chill out to some favorite music, but I couldn’t silence my nerves. I drummed my fingers on my leg, reminding myself there was a reason I’d gotten this promotion in the first place. I was good at what I did, I knew that; I’d worked hard to earn my communications degree and had spent years editing for publications. But I hadn’t loved those jobs and had been looking for something different when I’d found an opening for a script editor. I’d been intrigued, applied and got the job, and now spent my time in a cubicle going over scripts, fixing grammatical mistakes and adding directional cues when they were missing. It was maybe a bit unglamorous but I loved it.

Still, I’d sprung for the promotion the moment it had come up. While I was still considered an associate editor, I’d now be able to sit in on the table reads with the actors and writers themselves. If an actor stumbled over a line, or it just didn’t seem to work for their characterization, we could fix it right then and there. I was giddy and nervous as hell as I drew closer and closer to my first table read experience. I hadn’t been told what project the script was for, nor which actors would be involved. I assumed I’d be filled in once I arrived, becoming antsy as the bus was running behind schedule.

I didn’t have much time as I rushed up to our floor in the high-rise, clutching my laptop bag to my side and trying not to look flustered by the time I pulled the conference room door open and walked in. A handful of my colleagues were sitting about the large table; I didn’t see any of the actors yet. I pulled my laptop out of its bag and set it up in the seat indicated to me. A printed copy of the script laid at each seat and I picked my copy up, rifling through it quickly before my immediate boss beckoned me over.

“Would you be a dear and go grab us some coffees?” he said, and I looked at him incredulously.

“Pardon?” I asked, thinking I hadn’t heard him correctly. I’d worked far too hard to just be someone’s coffee runner. “Are you serious?”

“We’re already running behind,” he said, as if that was a valid explanation. I would have refused but I didn’t want to be kicked out of the room. Feeling like I had no leverage, I wrote down everyone’s “orders” on a post-it note and went to the breakroom to make them up, grumbling along the way. I set out cups and went about tossing pods into the single-serve brewer.

“Excuse me miss, but I seemed to have misplaced my hat,” a voice I’d recognize anywhere said from behind me. I whirled around, nearly knocking two coffees off the counter.

“Taron!” I said with absolute surprise. “What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing that was a stupid question the moment I said it.

“I’ve got a table read in a couple minutes and I could ask you the same. Never fancied I’d have such lovely company joining me today,” he smirked lightly at me, running his thumb over the brim of the hat. Even though he wasn’t touching my skin, he might as well have been for the flush of heat that ran through me. “It looks good on you,” he added.

“Yes well, I work here,” I stammered, trying to be coherent. “Clearly.”

“Mmm… As a barista?” he asked, raising that characteristic eyebrow of his.

“Ah, shit,” I sighed. “Just a perk of the job, you know,” I said, trying to hide my displeasure over the task as Taron studied me for a brief moment. He grabbed the post-it note and helped me finish off the coffees with cream and sugar, as requested, and carry them back to the conference room. I would have protested his help but I knew it would be hopeless; he’d only cutely wave off my concern and do what he wanted anyway. Once the coffees were delivered, I finally took my seat, Taron running his fingers subtly across my shoulders as he passed by to take his seat across the way. I had to fight the urge to gasp out loud at that, stifling it with a cough instead. Taron just gave me an innocent smile; I wanted to kick him in the shins but was too far away.

I was thankful for the diversion when other people filing in, recognizing several of the other actors because I didn’t live under a rock, and once introductions were made we got on with it. I found it easy enough to focus on my job, preferring to mark up the hard-copy version of the script rather than work on my laptop, but any additional notes that didn’t pertain directly to the script I typed up in a word document. I took my job seriously and no amount of boyish charm was going to distract me from that, I thought as I idly tapped the end of my pen against my cheek. My phone, which I’d left on my lap in case I had to take an important call, vibrated and I glanced down at the lit-up screen. <You know a smart girl is always a turn-on> Taron had texted, and I fumbled my pen, dropping it on the floor.

Shit, I muttered under my breath, leaning over to pick it up. No one else had even noticed, and Taron waggled his eyebrows at me across the table. I made it a point to look away, partly to maintain my composure. I had no idea how I was going to make it through this read if he kept that business up, but I wisely chose to stow my phone away in my bag at that point. The day wore on, with a few minor breaks I chose to spend either hiding in the bathroom or staying resolutely in my seat. Taron didn’t approach me, though I couldn’t always miss the way he gazed at me when we were going over a scene he wasn’t in.

We eventually called it a day and everyone seemed pleased with the progress we’d made. I packed my laptop and tucked away my marked-up copy of the script under my arm, excited to head back to my cubicle and start implementing these changes. Everyone seemed engaged in their various conversations so I thought I could sneak out unnoticed, but just as I reached the door someone stepped in front of it.

“Trying to avoid me?” Taron asked in a low voice, so no one could overhear.

“Just doing my job, which doesn’t include flirting with you,” I whispered back, though I wasn’t mad.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Go on,” I said, tapping my foot.

“And that wasn’t entirely professional of me. But I don’t regret it,” he said, winking at me and I sighed impatiently. “Let me make it up to you with dinner tonight,” he said, giving me the sweetest, most expectant smile.

I bloody well couldn’t say no to that. “Yeah, okay,” I said, as if it wasn’t a big deal to me, but oh, I was thrilled.

“It’s a date, love. Be ready by 7. And text me your address,” he grinned, finally stepping out of my way.

“It’s a date then,” I agreed, feeling a bit weak in the knees. I reached for the door and missed it, nearly stumbling over. I hoped no one had seen that as I made a mad dash out the door.

I returned to my desk, admittedly a bit distracted as I tried to get something done my last couple of hours. I had nearly worked myself into a tizzy by the time I was able to pack up and leave over the whole idea of it. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

I’d already texted Mary and Jules, who had ransacked my closet as well as their own and laid out the most appropriate dress choices on my bed. They ushered me inside when I got back to the flat, squealing over this sudden turn of events as they made me change in and out of one dress and into another. “Maybe we’re just overthinking this?” I said, staring at myself in the mirror as I was sporting a bright pink taffeta number I’d never be caught dead in otherwise. “This just isn’t me,” I said.

“Yeah, pink’s definitely not your color,” Jules agreed, missing the point of what I was trying to say.

“That’s not what I mean” I said, pulling the dress over my head and tossing it unceremoniously on the floor. “This. All of this. I don’t want to put on a show,” I said, sweeping my hand around at the colorful chaos in my room. “I’m not some prize animal to be paraded around. I just want to be...me.”

While both girls watched me with concern, maybe thinking I was about to blow this whole thing, I wriggled into my favorite pair of black skinny jeans, threw on a frilly blue lace top and pulled on a lightweight tan cardigan. I instantly felt more comfortable, and if I was comfortable I could actually enjoy this date. Taron hadn’t said to dress up anyway, and everything else we’d tried just felt ridiculous and overblown. “Well?” I asked, holding out my hands.

“Oh alright, that’s cute enough,” Jules grinned at me. I decided to keep the hat on for good measure, since Taron had seemed to enjoy me in it so much. We spent the last hour cleaning up my room, partly because the mess would drive me crazy but also as a way to keep me from getting overly nervous. The less I stewed about this, the better.

Still, when a knock sounded on the door I felt my insides instantly squeeze. “Oh fuck,” I breathed, as Jules and Mary both went streaking to the door, swinging it wide open and full of giggles.

“Ladies,” Taron greeted them, his face brightening as he saw me over their shoulders. “Jess, you look absolutely stunning,” he said. Jules turned and mouthed “oh my god” at me, and I tried to ignore her so I wouldn’t totally lose my cool.

“You do too,” I said, then laughed at how awkward that sounded. Clearly, I had no “cool” to begin with. “Handsome, I mean,” I corrected myself, to which he just chuckled. I took a moment to appreciate that he’d dressed as casually as I had, in a pair of dark jeans and a sweater that just looked downright cozy.

“Shall we?” he said, offering his arm, which I gladly took. “Have a pleasant evening,” he said to my roommates, escorting me down the walk to his waiting car and even opening and closing the door for me like the thoughtful man he was. The conversation was light and mostly we tried to one-up each other with stupid jokes, making each other laugh, which wasn’t difficult to do.

We came up on the Borough Market and were lucky enough to find parking close by. Taron seemed cutely excited about the place he’d chosen to bring me to, as we walked up to a restaurant named Padella. “Let me guess, Italian?” I grinned as he nodded affirmation. I could get behind this, as Italian was some of my favorite cuisine.

We snagged a table and I was thankful no one seemed to give us a second glance. I knew that kind of anonymity could be hard to come by for actors. “So, the really fun thing to do here is order a bunch of different plates to share,” Taron said, and I was more than happy to agree with whatever he suggested. And truthfully, I was more than happy just to be there with him at all.

We started with the sourdough and olive oil, taking turns dipping the bread. For something so simple, it was really superb. “The rest of your work day was pleasant?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I really enjoy my work,” I replied enthusiastically, omitting the fact that I hadn’t been the most productive employee that afternoon. Taron asked a few more questions about what I did, genuinely interested and putting his chin in his hand as I talked rather passionately about the editing process. “Ahh, so yeah, that’s what I do. Sorry, did I become a total bore?” I asked.

“No, no, no, of course not,” he reassured me. “I think people who aren’t just doing a job for the paycheck are hard to come by. It’s really nice to see you so passionate about it, your eyes just completely lit up your whole face,” he said sweetly.

I gazed at him, taking everything in about this moment and about him, half-afraid it was all just a dream. How I had come to be sitting in a restaurant with Taron, on a proper date, was beyond me. Our food arrived and I realized Taron had ordered way too much for just the two of us, but he seemed unbothered by that fact as we dug in, each plate of pasta better than the last. “Try this one!” he grinned excitedly, offering a bite on his fork to me and without thinking I leaned forward and accepted it. The act felt at once intimate and made my heart race a bit.

“That’s fucking good,” I enthused, and we both deemed the crab tagliarini to be the best of the bunch. “I am positively stuffed,” I said after we’d demolished most of the pastas. “You might be rolling me home,” I joked.

“No room for dessert?” he asked, sounding slightly disappointed but I wasn’t sure why.

“We could get some as takeout, I suppose,” I said, finishing off the last bit of my wine. “But I really couldn’t eat another bite right now.” My skinny pants were already feeling a bit uncomfortably tight around my waist.

“Fair enough,” Taron replied, giving me a small grin. “The chocolate tart is to die for, believe me. I’ll order you one for later,” he said, and then proceeded to also pay the tab without blinking an eye. I probably didn’t want to know how much we’d just cost ourselves, but I could honestly say I’d had one of the best dates I’d ever been on.

We packed ourselves back into his car as the sun had started sinking to the horizon, turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and red and deepening into purple. It was lovely, and I stared out the window a bit in awe, much the same way Taron was looking at me now, had I been paying any attention.

The street lights had just started to flicker on as he pulled up to my flat. “I had a really fun time with you, T, thank you,” I smiled happily as he fidgeted slightly with his hand, rubbing his palm over his thigh. I hadn’t meant my attention to go there, and had to tear my eyes away, hoping he hadn’t noticed me gawking.

“It was a lovely time, indeed,” he agreed.

“I’ll see-,” I started at the same time he said “Shall I-” and we both cracked up laughing over it, relieving some of the awkward tension that had been building.

“Hey, I have an idea,” I grinned. “Come on,” I said, getting out of the car and expecting him to follow me. He did so, looking amused at me when I plopped myself down on the front porch step and patted the space next to me. He took a seat and I pulled out the tart, handing him one of the plastic forks they’d given us.

“Very good idea,” he grinned as we took turns scooping out bites, savoring the rich taste of the dessert in the semi-darkness. “Truth is, I didn’t really want our night to be over yet,” he admitted, and I felt a pressure in my chest I didn’t even know how to identify. I’d been on dates before, even with boys I’d rather fancied, but none had made me feel quite this way. I knew I’d have to try and separate the strands of being a fan from being whatever it is that we were, but that was going to take some time.

“Hey, you have a little … something there,” he said, breaking into my thoughts and reaching over, gently pressing his thumb against the side of my mouth and wiping away the crumb. Our eyes met and we were locked in that moment, my breath catching in my throat.

And then the door swung open, and Taron dropped his hand back down to his lap. I groaned inwardly as Mary stepped outside, absolutely surprised to see us there.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” she said as her hand flew up to her mouth. “I was just taking the litter out,” she said apologetically, holding a bag meant for the rubbish bin.

“It’s fine, we were just saying goodnight,” I replied, smiling despite the crushing disappointment as the moment completely passed us by. We stood up, brushing our pants off, and Taron pulled me into a hug, sweetly wrapping his arms around me. I couldn’t resist burying my face against his shoulder. It was, after all, his fault for wearing such a soft sweater.

“Hey, I hope you have a good night, I’ll text when I’m home safely,” he said within the confines of our hug, his breath tickling my ear.

“You do that, T,” I smiled as Mary awkwardly shuffled back into the house. I stood on the porch waving as Taron returned to his car and pulled away into the night, feeling far too many emotions for my heart or brain to comprehend.

I went back inside but was in no mood to field my friends’ questions. I shut myself in my room and fell face-first onto my bed. If this had been a simple fan encounter, would it have meant as much to me as it did now? Could we really build something real and true? This third chance had left me thoroughly and utterly confused.

Keep Reading - Part 4

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton imagine

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bakugous-abs · 5 years

Note

Could you please do a scenario for shouto where his s/o catches him crying in her dorm, her shirt in his hand while he just sobs in her bed? Like he really misses her and the boy just needs some comfort please! Thank you!

Hello everyone ! After a huge writer’s block I’m back to give content, and I’m really sorry for the wait. This was my favorite request so far ! I tried to change and do the writing completely from Shouto’s point of view, it was just what felt right for the request, so I’m sorry if it’s not what you expected ! Enjoy anyways !

~ Admin Hana

WARNINGS : There’s the word “fucking” like, twice, so swearing I guess ? Angst. Love, so much love.

Word count : a solid 1.5 K

(WE DO NOT OWN THIS GIF, CREDIT TO OG POST BY: YULICECHAN)

TODOROKI SHOUTO

He missed her. Yeah, he definitely missed, a lot. It was dead obvious to everyone around him, both friends and family, and Shouto himself had accepted it. He wasn’t the same without her, and if his classmates teased him at first, they soon stopped. Because, as time passed, they found out he wasn’t just in a pouty bad mood, what he was feeling was true grief. And the longer her exchange program lasted, the worst he felt.

His classmates were partly right, at first. After two weeks of her not being there, he was in a bad mood. But now, two months had passed, and she still wasn’t back. Two months of Shouto never seeing her, never holding her, never kissing her. Shouto didn’t feel sad, he just didn’t feel at all anymore. Now that she was gone, his whole world was dull. No matter how good he was at hiding his emotions, people soon started to notice his change in demeanor, mostly because a chill was swept across every room he stepped in. He felt empty.

It was easy to see the effect she had on him, even he didn’t doubt that. He had always thought she was so… bright. She was almost blinding to look at. He had found himself turning away from her smile more than once ; he didn’t want his eyes to burn after all. She was like the sun : he always felt warmer when she was close. And then came this instinct, this voice screaming in his head, shouting at him ‘Protect her !’. The very same voice that told him to treat her like fine porcelain, because he knew he could hurt you. She had created what appeared to be the biggest dilemma of Shouto’s life, and it revolved around the same thing, again.

He knew, he knew he needed his left to protect her. There was simply no other way ; no matter how good he was with his ice, his fire was second to none. But he was so, so scared to hurt her. So he kept his distance, as much as he could, partly because he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her, and partly because he knew she’d bite his head off if he didn’t let her take care of herself. She could, he was aware. But it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it.

They became friends, and he continued to follow her around, like a planet orbiting around its star, sometimes floating away, but never really too far. And suddenly, after weeks of flying so close to the Sun, he knew. He was in love with her. It had hit him one morning, as he was waking up from a very vivid dream.

He was hopelessly in love with her.

She made him feel so special, and she had no idea. He had started to notice things, that he didn’t really know how to interpret. She, too, seemed brighter when he was close. There was this small smile, shy, but warm, that only he ever received, and that never failed to make his chest tighten and his body grow hot. She was always so close, as if seeking his body heat, and it took all he had of self restraint to not burst in flames right there and then. And then she looked up at his face, with her eyes twinkling and her cheeks tinged pink and she was just so, so close-

Wait a minute.

It had once again hit him after waking up from a dream, a dream that made his cheeks heat up and that he probably wouldn’t ever forget. And he had he faintest hope that morning, that maybe…

Maybe she loves me, too.

And he had confessed. That very day, right after class he had held her back and waited for their classmates to leave ( the dorms seemed unsafe ). It had taken him the entire day to finally gather the courage to do it, but he did, and he was beyond himself when she reciprocated his feelings. He doubted he had ever hugged someone this hard.

“I love you so much.” That was the first thing he had told her as her boyfriend, an endless whisper in her ear, and at that moment she had tightened her grip on his chest. The effect she had on him, increased by the proximity, made his body go wild. Suddenly he was dizzy. His mind was foggy. He couldn’t see beyond the top of her head, he couldn’t hear anything but the soft sounds she made while breathing and – god, oh god, he could feel his body getting hotter, and her chest was pressed flush against his, and it just kept getting hotter and she was just so close, too close-

He barely had time to push her away before half of his upper body burst into flames, successfully ruining his shirt, pants and, yes, tie. He stumbled backwards and tripped on his bag, falling flat on the floor while still trying to compose himself. Finally, the flames disappeared and there she was, staring down at him, amusement making her eyes twinkle. Great. They had been dating for 30 second and he had already managed to make a fool of himself. However, he noticed that as soon as her eyes landed on the exposed part of his chest, she flushed, making him smirk inwardly. He wasn’t the only on to get easily flustered, it appeared.

He propped himself up on his elbows. The longer he stared at her flushed face, the more he thought, this view, he could get used to it.

He still wasn’t used to it.

And now he was sobbing. He was sitting on the ground, in her room and he just couldn’t stop crying. The tears kept flowing out of his eyes, no matter how hard he pulled at his hair, his breathing was ragged, he could barely inhale and he just kept shaking and he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there crying but the room was dark. He just couldn’t stop, and he felt so fucking stupid, because this, this was the last straw.

Her scent was gone.

She had purposely left him her favorite perfume so he could still have something that held her scent, but that didn’t work. The perfume simply didn’t smell like her. Though Shouto had tried so hard to preserve the scent, eventually it had faded…

Shout could hug and bury his face in her pillow all he wanted, the scent was gone, it was gone and in a fit of rage he through the pillow as far away from him as he could, before hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, wondering what in the world he was supposed to do now.

Her scent was gone and now the only thing he had been clinging on had slipped between his fingers. And he felt so fucking empty. He missed her so much. He wanted her back already. He wanted-

“Shouto ?”

Immediately, he perked up. The tears had stopped pouring from his eyes. He now made a pathetic mix of whimpers and pants with each breath he took. The last tear trailed down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped his face, suddenly painfully aware of his appearance. His shirt was a mess, hs hair was a mess, his face was a mess – he was a mess.

The door opened a bit more, the trail of light on the ground growing larger.

“Shouto, what-“

He heard a yelp, the sound of a suitcase falling, some angry muttering, and something soft landed near him. She had tripped on the pillow that hed had thrown earlier.

She turned on the light and closed the door. Shouto winced at the sudden brightness : he had been in the dark far too long, and his eyes stung after so much crying.

“Honey, what are you doing here, it’s almost… midnight…”

She had noticed his state of distress. He vaguely heard her asking how long he’d been there but he didn’t answer. He could only stare at her, he E/C eyes shining, her H/C hair slightly disheveled, and the familiar heat she rose in him came crashing down on him. He crawled over at her and hugged her waist, burying is face in her clothes.

“You’re back… you’re back, you’re back, you’re back…”

She was back. Y/N was back. She slid on her knees and grabbed both of his cheeks, pressing her forehead against his.

“Yeah… I promised, right ?”

He couldn’t help it. He had closed the space between them instantly, attacking her lips desperately. It wasn’t frantic, but no very calm either ; she had missed him just as much as he had missed her. He tightened his hold on her waist as her arms slipped around his neck, his eyes squeezed shut. Nothing mattered right now, because he was kissing her again. He could only focus on her breath against his lips when she pulled away for air, or on her chest that was pressed flush against him. He was still pulling and biting at her bottom lip when she pulled away, breathless.

“I love you so much.”

He could feel the soft brush of her lips against his as he whispered, and it felt heavenly. He buried his face in her neck, took a deep inhale, and sighed in delight.

Her scent was back.

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azriel-is-my-cinnamon-roll · 5 years

Text

The First Fight

Elriel one-shot.

Elain and Azriel needed to move to a bigger place. Being married for only five years, they already used up all the available spaces; both in the house and outside. Elains garden got more prominent than she'd thought possible. And it did not help that Azriels training ring was way too close to Elains plants.

Azriel would accidentally damage some plants with his blade or a sword, but Elain didn't say anything to him about it, until one day.

It was an extraordinary beautiful afternoon, she heard Cassian and Azriel bickering outside, and realized that the Illyrian general was back from the war camps. With a massive smile on her face, she put down the frosting she was making and ran to the garden.

Her smile faltered at what she saw, and the food in her stomach turned. Both males were in the middle of a training session, and Elain ran in only in time to see Azriels blade slice through her favorite bush of peonies.

The bush fell and not only did Azriel didn't notice of what he did- no, he stepped on it. TWICE.

They were still training, but Cassian seemed to notice her at last. He lovered his blade "Elain, Hi!" he took a step towards her. She felt tears starting to gather. "Hi, Cassian I hope everything is well." with that she went inside and slammed the door behind her a bit too hard.

"Is she okay?" she heard Cassian ask Azriel.

No. She was not okay. Flowers had a special meaning in her heart, and her husband knew that. But what he destroyed wasn't just a peony bush. No, it was where she got the flowers for her wedding. It was planted the same day Azriel confessed his love for her; as a gratitude for that, she planted peonies. For her, it meant that there was still something good left for her in the world. It symbolized their connection with each other and yet he destroyed it without blinking.

She could not help but let tears gather. She was a sentimental fool. She had Azriel, and they were happy, yet she could not help but get sensitive about it, and she knew that it was a small thing but-but it meant a lot to her.

She heard Azriel stepping inside, "Sunshine, are you okay?" he was breathless after the training. "I'm fine." before he could say anything else she went upstairs, trying not to face him.

While she cooked dinner, he tried to hug her from behind, but she wiggled from his embrace. And at the dinner table when he tried to kiss her cheek, she withdrew. Azriel sat down his fork and a knife and looked at her.

She didn't want to talk. Partly because she didn't feel stable too, and because she knew her reasons for being angry with him weren't exactly fair. "What have I done?" he asked in a voice colder than she'd ever heard him use.

"Nothing." His knuckles on the fork became white. There was such devastation in his eyes. They never fought. And it took her years to convince him that she loved him and had no intention of leaving, she knew that sometimes he still felt like she wasn't real- he told her that much, yet- Yet she was mad at him, and she could feel all those walls that he opened for her- shutting down.

She felt wetness on her cheeks, and a sob escaped her. Gods she made him feel this sad over flowers, her Azriel was so worried, and it was all her fault- another cry followed. She couldn't even talk.

She wanted to laugh at herself, only this morning was she so angry that she felt like setting both Cassian and Azriel on fire. Now she felt like she could cry and cry for no particular reason. By the cauldron, what was wrong with her?

Azriel was looking conflicted; it looked like he wanted to take her into his arms, but stopped himself, surely remembering how she rejected him twice today.

And if that was not bad enough hiccups started, "You destroyed our wedding peonies while training, today." another hiccup. Azriel opened his mouth, "And then you stepped on it." more tears, she felt like a mess- probably looked like it too.

"Elain, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I know how much it means to you." Elain sobs continued "I'll grow a new one, I know it won't be the same, but I will fix this. I promise. Elain can you forgive me?"

Her eyes started to hurt, "Of course I can, I'm not crying about the flowers" he finally let himself take her hands in his. "Then why are you crying?" Elain traced his scars with her finger, "I was angry at first, and then you looked at me as if I was going to leave you because of this stupid mistake. I made you feel this sad, and it's my fault. And-" another sob.

Azriel stood up and took Elain into his arms. He sat them both on the chair, still holding her close to his chest; his a heart beating thunderously. He kissed and stroked her hair. "It's okay my love, I'm not sad anymore, please don't cry."

She moved her nose to the crook of his neck, taking in his intoxicating smell. After a moment of silence, she felt a need to laugh, from herself and the situation she put them both in. For both of their sakes, she did not laugh out loud. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, and I'm really sorry about the flowers." She shook her head, "It's fine. I think we might need a bigger house, with a bigger garden and training area." Azriel smiled and kissed her forehead, he lowered his lips to her cheek, he traced her jaw and then, he froze.

She knew that he wasn't breathing, and only his roaring heartbeat told her that he was alive. "Azriel?" she dragged her hand to his hair. His face was still on her jaw, she withdrew slightly to look at his face.

Stone. He looked like a stone, eyes fixed on her neck, not blinking. "Azriel, what is it?"

Slowly he met her eyes "I think we might need a bigger house for an entirely different reason."

His eyes started to gleam and the realization kicked into Elain. "Am I pregnant?" It was Azriels turn to let out a sob as he nodded at the same time answering her question.

"We're going to be parents," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She held him so tight that her bones hurt, but she didn't care. He placed his nose on the crook of her neck taking in a deep breath, and shuddered. "Are you sure?" Elain asked.

He looked back at her. "Yes, I'm sure. There is your smell, and then there is my scent and something else completely." She let out a joyous laugh and kissed him.

"We're going to have a baby. Someone that is made from you and me, how amazing is that?" she whispered against his mouth, and Azriel looked her in the eyes; there was such happiness and wonder in his expression, that she wasn't sure she was breathing. She knew what he must be thinking. This was something he never let himself dream of. She knew that Azriel needed time to let happiness in, time to believe that it was real and true; and there he was, looking at her like she was his miracle.

"Gods, I love you," he said and claimed her mouth again. He put all that happiness, all that joy that shone from his face in it. They were both half sobbing, crying and laughing at the same time, and yet this was the best kiss they've ever shared. Elain realized why her moods were so unstable for the last week, and why she was so on edge all the time. Now, she felt at peace. Kissing him, she let herself wonder to what incredible changes this baby will bring to their lives.

♡ I've read so many angsty fics lately that I felt the need to write something happy. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list.♡

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @illyrian-bookworm // @nowheregirldk// @maastrash // @writer-reader-traveller // @ifangirlninja // @my-ships-will-never-be-sank // @alitzeldiaz // @liquifyme // @sydney-marlis // @whydoineedtowriteanamehere // @wolffrising // @ysitsohardtofindaname // @avenrebekah // @aurliel // @mae1919 // @hellas-himself // @feysand-rowaelin-worshiper /// @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @nightcourtstarlight // @julesherondalex // @abillionlittlepieces // @to-the-stars-who-wish // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @secret-lil-rendez-vous // @abimomeopectore // @dreamerforever-5 // @sleeping-and-books

#elriel

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

LANA DEL REY - THE GREATEST

[7.71]

The discourse is lit...

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Lana Del Rey's embrace of decades-old American culture has always been a window into the present, so it's no surprise that her invocations of rock music and Dennis Wilson's deaths on "The Greatest" are signposts for our own inevitable demise. But even before she concludes the song with ruminations on California wildfires, Hawaii's false missile alert, and the possible necessity of colonizing Mars, you can sense the knowing dread in the midsong guitar solo and her affected vocalizing. She declares that she's "wasted" with poise and romantic longing, stretching the word out into a rallying cry; she intimates that debauchery is not just an expected response to contemporary anxieties, but an empowering action in times of seeming powerlessness. She channels that same depressing spirit in her semi-ironic delivery of the song's most memorable couplet -- "The culture is lit and I had a ball/I guess that I'm burned out after all" -- toying with its dual meaning to succinctly portray how escapism in end times isn't indecent behavior, but a necessary means toward survival and acceptance of one's fate. The sparse guitar strums and piano melodies that close out the song anticipate the somber eventuality that awaits us, but can that be much worse than right now? Worse than a time when "dancing with you" and "doing nothing" can be nostalgic pastimes due to never ending stress? Whatever the case, we'll collectively watch as it happens; it's the "live stream" that Lana hints at in the final line, and it'll be of cinematic proportions: "the greatest loss of them all." [9]

Joshua Copperman: "The culture is lit, and if this is it‚ I had a ball." This line is everything I hate about the aesthetics of this decade, but it IS the aesthetic of this decade, at least the latter half. Apart from rare, usually unintentional exceptions, something about 2010s voice-of-a-generation songs always felt pat, apparently because they had hope. We need songs for an age when everything is so overwhelming and impossible that there's nothing left to do but give up, give in, and bide your time until the flames -- the literal ones or the David Foster Wallace ones -- consume you too. (Who by fire, who by water vapor.) The cool, detached gloominess of "The Greatest" sends the opposite message to the one producer Jack Antonoff sent years ago; I don't want to get better, because there's no time left and no point. Lana was "doing nothing most of all," and that's why she's become the figurehead for this decade's music. Not Gaga. Not Beyonce. Not Lorde. Lana. Lana won the race to the bottom because she was there first; maybe a writer once took her sadness out of context, yet if someone said "I wish I was dead already" today, the response would not rise beyond a shrug of 'mood.' I don't even like this song that much as a song. It's slow and dreary, and that "culture is lit" line sounds hackneyed and pandering in its own way. But it's because of that artificiality that the line feels authentic, which was Lana's whole thing in the first place. Maybe I'm just bitter that she became so important when I wasn't looking. To paraphrase another, equally 2019 line, I hate to see it. Especially when I was so blind the whole time. [7]

Josh Buck: "I miss New York, and I Miss you. Me and my friends, we miss rock and roll." As Lana del Rey laments her Big Apple days, it feels like a lifetime since she was a Brooklyn Baby, singing Lou Reed with her boyfriend's band. She ventured out west to create an entire California fantasia and over a handful of albums, she built a cinematic version of the Golden State that was vibrant and full of endless sun and limitless romantic possibilities; even if it was all tinged with just a dab of noir-ish danger. It was a world as fully realized and teeming with mythology as a great novel. And "The Greatest" is where she watches it all burn down. "I'm facing the greatest loss of them all." California dreams are beautiful, until you have to wake up, so she sparks a cigarette and raises a glass to the ride. But if "The Greatest" is a moment of personal reflection, it's also a celebration. It's a toast to a new Greatest Generation. A generation that created and protested, that fucked and traveled and loved in spite of a planet threatening to burn them alive, and world leaders determined to end things even quicker. It's an anthem for thriving in the face of the apocalypse. It's my favorite single of 2019, and just thinking about it triggers a million competing emotions. If all somehow make it through this moment, we'll have one hell of a story, and a hell of a song to go with it. The culture is lit, but we had a ball. [10]

Michael Hong: A couple of cycles ago, that line probably would have drawn mass scorn from critics, but for now, it may very well be the lyric of the year. Part of that may be attributed to the way the culture has shifted their view on Lana Del Rey, but another part of it is that Lana sounds the most honest she's ever sounded. "The Greatest" is an ominous but sincere reflection of the current state of the world, and Lana no longer seems content with empty depictions of American touchstones. Lines like "I miss New York and I miss the music" still rely on those same symbols, but they now feel like lived experiences rather than empty nostalgic musings. Hell, Lana Del Rey even manages not only to make "me and my friends, we miss rock 'n' roll" work but sound like one of the most profound statements you've ever heard. Lana Del Rey's hushed vocals paired with the gauzy instrumental are quietly disarming, playing out like the cinematic zoom-out at the edge of the apocalypse. And if this is it, those final laments on the outro might be the greatest way to go out. [9]

Alfred Soto: She's not the greatest, nor does she think she's the greatest, so long as she thinks the "culture is lit" and she's "having a ball," whatever that means, but I suspect it means more than the guitar solo. Narcissism as plaint. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: The core Lana Del Rey problem is that she confuses narcotic with dramatic and droning with sweeping. "The Greatest" mitigates those faults a little, but only a little, and only by borrowing some faults from classic rock. The track also smothers what could have been a fine torch song in overproduction -- the culture can't be lit if you snuff it out with a million moles of echo. It shouldn't happen that I felt more genuine things about ghosts and missing things from a perfume newsletter than this. [4]

Ian Mathers: So here's the thing; I originally wrote about and scored this song before the more exhausting parts of the whole Lana Del Rey Conversation that engulfed Music Twitter last week had happened, and I was basically saying, yeah, the conversation is interesting and has some good points but I mostly receive the song outside of it and I just like that song (and generally do, with her singles). But then... it got worse. And between the artist herself showing her ass and all of the assorted takes, the thought of listening to any of LDR's music just got more and more enervating. Some would say it's unfair or incorrect to adjust my opinion of this song, or at least to admit that those events have, in fact, adjusted my opinion of the song. But I'm a guy who wrote a Master's thesis at least partly on the idea that the context around a work of art justifiably changes not only our aesthetic relationship to it but the ontological status of the work of art itself (which is not a physical thing, not even as data). The classical example is finding out, say, a painting is a forgery, but honestly this whole thing is a great example too. Doesn't make me outright dislike "The Greatest", but does legitimately move it from being a real bright spot to a song I enjoy that I need a bit of a break from. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: Hats off to Lana and Jack for really creating an atmosphere of nostalgia that you fall into the second you hit play. Lana's vocal is tender and understated, further reinforcing the sense of longing the track aims to create; but, hearing her sing the word "lit" and the Kanye West reference stand in stark contrast to that moody guitar lick and I... I just can't reconcile the two. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Lana Del Rey is deeply aware of the fickleness of the music industry. On Born to Die, that manifested in her almost-trolling approach -- aggravating, almost-rap cadences, weird production choices, even weirder lyrical ones -- that wormed its way into the pop consciousness. For her middle three albums, she refashioned herself as a thinking person's pop star, working with more respectable (and more male) figures like Dan Aurebach and A$AP Rocky as a way of positioning herself as adjacent to prestige. The music was better but also more boring. Now, with Norman Fucking Rockwell!, she has cashed all the checks that a decade of practice and following the rules of pop earn you. "The Greatest" is a thesis statement for the album's ambition. It's not just the title -- although that is a helpful indicator. It's everything: the classic rock guitars and big drum fills, the nostalgia for doing nothing of the lyrics, the way she sings them. On "The Greatest," Lana sounds done. Not exhausted, but complete, as if she could walk away from this all and not miss a second's worth of sleep. It's a big damn classic rock song that's aware of how bombastic it sounds, and yet its self-awareness does not undercut its narrative and sonic heft. It's the kind of song you can't make without making a lot of worse songs that dance around the same topics. But here, where it really counts? Lana nails it. It's a buzzer-beater of a song, rattling around the rim four times before falling in -- all the sweeter in glory for the bumps on the road before it. It's likely not the last Lana Del Rey single we'll review, but if it is, it's a fitting send-off: in response to all the fickleness of the industry, Lana rewrites her story on her own terms, and makes it sing. [9]

Jackie Powell: Norman Fucking Rockwell started as such a fascinating paradox, but didn't really continue building and evolving on what made its first third so successful. "The Greatest" is lyrically relatable and sonically beautiful. Jack Antonoff, being the wizard that he is, finds a way to wean Lana Del Rey of her noir and whining tendencies. He overdubs her potential for a beautiful vocal pairing it with brighter arrangements. It's pellucid and mellow but not a snoozefest. But its placement on this album really sold the track short. NFR loaded its most compelling tracks at the top of the project. Del Rey placed "The Greatest" after "Fuck it I love you" in a double feature of a music video, which where it should have been placed on the album. In the visual, Del Rey floats around and almost above her surroundings contemplating what's next. The haunting but gorgeously comforting guitar solo brings the listener along with Lana herself back down to earth. Lyrically and through its soft piano, the outro is what gives this song its weight and a sense of profundity. Her cultural references which include Kanye West's physical and emotional transformation and David Bowie's "Life on Mars" allow us to reflect on what we've become. Lana Del Rey does that here and on almost every record. I just wish "The Greatest" was given the proper stage to achieve the status of its moniker. [6]

Joshua Lu: The majority of "The Greatest" feels unbound by time, as Lana Del Rey reuses Extremely American words that apply to the '80s as much as today: Long Beach, New York, the Beach Boys, rock 'n' roll. Only the outro plants the song firmly in the current year -- with mentions of Mars, Kanye, global warming, and that time Hawaii thought it was about to get bombed -- and with this passage of time, these signifiers bring no joy to Lana anymore. Her sprawling sense of nihilism seeps through in her languid voice and the turgid, psychedelic guitar as she laments how her generation's time is ticking away. Tempting as it is, I'm wary to read into this song as some kind of political statement, in part because the epochs that Lana fetishizes were also rather shitty, and also because I think Lana herself wouldn't prefer this reading, as it would play into that "p" word she, erm, has expressed adversity to. Maybe that's the song's trap, that despite how alluring it is to try to ascribe some deeper meaning, it's better to just do what the song does: sit back, observe, and mourn. [8]

Alex Clifton: Lana Del Rey has a beautiful and occasionally overwhelming voice. It's haunting but for me it can be like ingesting too much cake in one sitting -- extremely rich to the point where it feels exhausting to listen to more than one song at a time. Having said that, "The Greatest" is a song that works well with Del Rey's vocals. When the first pre-chorus hits -- "those nights were on fire, we couldn't get higher" -- her breathiness feels less like an affect but sadder and more wistful, the awareness that she'll never be able to get that life back again. It's a grandiose song, strings and languid piano and a chorus of a dozen Lanas sighing "if this is it, I'm signing off," but for once the grandiosity of the production fits the message. My issue with Del Rey's persona back in the Born to Die days was that I couldn't quite make out who she was under all the artifice, flower crowns and American flags. I know that's the appeal of artists like Del Rey, whose entire careers are built off of specific personas (despite what they claim to the contrary), but I don't deal well with facades that are built that tall. Arguments about personas and performativity in music can quickly dissolve into arguments about authenticity and how much that matters to the music, and I want to stress that I don't care about authenticity in the slightest -- I just like the moments where artists aren't invincible but human. In "The Greatest" those walls crumble down and Del Rey revels in her sadness in a way that hits close to the heart. She's vulnerable and mourning over a real love rather than a fantasy, and for once I feel like persona or no, I understand the appeal of Lana Del Rey. [8]

Vikram Joseph: At 2am this morning I found myself in the smoky bedroom of a guy I hadn't met until two hours earlier, half a bottle of red wine deep and still high off the fumes of the MUNA show I'd just been to, discussing the aesthetics of Lana Del Rey's music videos (as a kind of emotional foreplay, I guess?). It struck me that this, right there, was actually a pretty good representation of Lana's aesthetic -- unlikely moments that shimmer at the fringes of reality, a doomed romanticism that bleeds into a laconic, blissful sort of nihilism. There's so much heightened emotion (close to melodrama) in her music, and yet there's a simplicity too in what she craves -- men, bars, California, sun -- that Vice described as a "revolutionary pleasure." It feels like an extremely LDR move to draw a direct parallel between lost love and the end of the actual fucking world, but it's testament to her songwriting, those aesthetics that she's worked so hard on, and the spellbinding, crystalline production on "The Greatest" that she pulls it off so completely. From the opening bars -- dignified piano chords, soft-focus acoustic guitars and cinematic strings -- it feels like an elegy; I can't help but see the crumbling, sunlit edifice of a gorgeous building when I hear this song, especially during that billowing, washed-out guitar solo, or the slow nuclear decay of the outro. "The Greatest" feels like a culmination, and a kind of closure. It's a veteran of an iconic club scene reading the memoirs of her golden years out loud, or the last time two people who once loved each other ever speak, or a beach scene at the end of civilisation. Sonically and aesthetically, it sounds cast adrift in time, and that's why it's so effective. It's the end of the world as we know it -- I don't think Lana feels fine, exactly, but maybe there's a certain comfort in finally knowing for sure that it was all for nothing. [10]

Will Adams: Lana Del Rey made a career writing elegies to American culture, which is what makes "The Greatest" as moving as it is heartbreaking. The patriotism of "American" has turned bitter. The sprawling luxury of "Shades of Cool" has fizzled. The worries expressed in "Coachella -- Woodstock In My Mind" have been realized in twisted, terrifying ways. So it makes sense that, after a few minutes of misty-eyed farewells presented with a smile ("I had a ball"), it all collapses to rubble. The gleaming classic rock evaporates into three descending chords. This, it turns out, is the greatest loss of all. Not rock 'n' roll, not a past lover, not Long Beach, not Kanye West, but everything. In that final minute, the song sinks to the ocean floor, the flaming city fading from view, the monuments and culture blurring into nothing. Del Rey is gone, too, as there's nothing left to say. There is nothing except the brutal end. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Lana Del Rey #pop #music #music review #writing

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daresplaining · 5 years

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“Purple” Part 3: Several Matt Murdocks Walk into a Bar...

As much as I dislike the ramifications of the Purple Children’s decision to “solve” Matt’s secret identity dilemma by making everyone forget it, the “Purple” arc that establishes this plot point is quite good. The progression of Matt’s feelings about having a public identity from where Waid left him to the present makes logical sense, and his struggles to figure out how to deal with his escalating problems in this new status quo make for an emotional read. The mind wipe was not his idea, and he has mixed feelings about it, which I appreciate.

However, for the sake of this run overview, I wanted to highlight #19 in particular, which is a stand-out issue that works just as well as a one-shot as it does an integrated part of the run, and which showcases a vital and-- I think-- perfectly in-character element of Matt’s personality.

For this story we are back in Matt’s head, though the landscape of the place looks significantly different than it did in issue #8, thanks to the intrusion of the Purple Man. While Matt’s blindness has always given him a degree of protection against Purple Man’s specific brand of mind-control, in this story arc he has found a way to amp up the potency and reach of his powers by using his children. This issue follows what happens to Matt while under the Purple Man’s sway, and switches back-and-forth between the real world and Matt’s mind-controlled subconscious, which here takes the form of a rather unusual bar.

This issue is pencilled and inked by guest artist Marc Laming, who is one of my favorite artists to work on Soule’s run. His work is beautifully detailed and expressive, and he and colorists Matt Milla and Miroslav Mrva do a great job of depicting the many Daredevils (and a few of their significant others) from throughout the comic’s history who populate the bar. For anyone not up on their DD continuity, here’s a breakdown:

With one of his greatest nemeses now finally under his full control, the Purple Man is eager to have some revenge. But instead of inflicting his own flavor of pain on Matt, he decides to take a more insidious approach: he asks Matt to name the worst thing he (Matt) could possibly imagine himself doing. Something repulsive, that would break him were he to actually carry it out. This becomes a topic of debate for the Matts in the bar, each of whom has their own answer.

“Man Without Fear” Matt: “You lose control. You put your hands on the people who can’t defend themselves. You let the darkness out. You hear the bones splintering. You smell the blood, the coppery, swampy blood. You know the exact moment their hearts stop.”

Public Identity Matt: “Easy there, friend. We’re all just trying to have a good time here. How about you get back over there and I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Man Without Fear” Matt: “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Public Identity Matt: “Oh, you know.”

(Please note Public Identity Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten’s facial expressions in the first panel. They crack me up.)

It’s not only fun, on a geeky level, to see all these different versions of the Daredevil identity fight interact with each other, but it’s also a great way of exploring the huge range of character development Matt has experienced-- which is something I’ve always loved about him. Matt’s mindset and approach to superheroing, and the tone of the stories, encompasses such a huge range that all of the Matts in the bar have slightly different personalities based on where he was, mentally, at the time. And it’s logical that all of these different perspectives and conflicting ideologies are still present in the back of his mind. Matt has always been a complex character, and this issue gifts us a visual representation of that.

Black Suit Matt’s presence here is worth pointing out, because he is the result of some messy continuity that has never been resolved. He’s from the Man Without Fear mini-series, which is Frank Miller and John Romita Jr.’s alternate universe re-imagining of Matt’s origin story. It’s much more brutal and violent than Stan Lee’s version, and features a shuffling of the timeline that resulted in Jack dying while Matt was still in high school. Despite the fact that it was not written as a retcon, writers on the main DD series were quick to integrate elements of MWF into 616 Matt’s backstory. But it wasn’t a complete reboot; Matt’s yellow costume is still considered his first by most writers (it’s even in this issue!), Jack still died while Matt was in college (...or law school), and so Black Suit Man Without Fear Matt exists in a strange limbo, not quite canon but still somehow part of the 616 universe.

But for the sake of this issue, it’s best to just not think about it too hard. Here, he represents the most violent side of Matt’s psyche, which inspires his first response to the Purple Man’s question: which is seemingly to kill Kirsten.

Kirsten: “Matt! What are you... What are you doing? Why are you with the Purple Man?”

Purple Man: “Be patient, Kirsten the Girlfriend! You don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Matt: “You know... no. This feels a little small. I mean, I’ve lost girlfriends before. This would be terrible, sure, but... been there, done that. I can do better. Or worse, actually.”

...PHEW. Fortunately, Matt talks himself out of it.

If the issue were longer, we might have heard all of the Daredevils’ ideas, but sadly we only get a few more.

Yellow Suit Matt: “You’re making this too complicated. Keep it simple. Get back to your roots.”

Armored Matt: “Wrong, idiot! You’re not thinking big enough, Murdock. The worst thing needs to be... extreme.”

Again, part of the entertainment value of this issue is seeing the different Daredevils react to each other, and Soule makes a point of pairing the chipper DDs with the, shall we say, less psychologically healthy ones. And it’s worth noting that the two solid answers to the Purple Man’s question that Matt comes up with are both put forth by his darker identities; as mentioned, Man Without Fear Matt is emotionally raw by design, and while the armored suit period in the 90s wasn’t actually, relatively speaking, that depressing, it was a reinvention of Daredevil that Matt intended to be violent and frightening. And it makes sense that these darker DDs would have an easier time dredging up worst case scenarios. Frankly, it’s surprising that Volume 2 Matt-- arguably the darkest DD of all-- didn’t jump into the conversation (but maybe he was too distracted by hanging out with Milla (see above), and who can blame him?).

It’s also clever that the whole discussion is mediated by the one Matt who isn’t a superhero: Matt the Lawyer (who isn’t blind, which is a little weird). While the Daredevils represent all of the bombastic chaos of Matt’s impulses and emotions, Lawyer Matt sorts through their answers from a slightly removed vantage point and tries to apply logic to them. He is the clever, analytical part of Matt’s mind, and I love that he essentially serves as the main character for this issue.

Armored Matt (actually, his civilian identity was Jack Batlin, if we want to be really precise about this) makes the requisite “extreme!” 90s comics joke-- which made me laugh out loud the first time I read this issue-- and that leads Lawyer Matt to figure out his final answer. He requests that the Purple Man create worldwide chaos using his newly enhanced powers. And from what Matt and the reader can tell, he does. And then Matt explains what he has in mind.

Purple Man: “...Now what?”

Lawyer Matt: “Nothing.”

Purple Man: “Wait... what? Nothing?”

Lawyer Matt: “Yes. This is the worst thing. The entire world goes to hell, I know about it, I have the power to help, and I do... nothing.”

Purple Man: “WHAT?”

Arguments can be made about whether this is the actual worst thing Matt can imagine himself doing. That’s kind of the point of the issue, and I’m sure the answer changes daily for Matt. But it fits, and brings him-- as Yellow Suit DD advises-- “back to [his] roots”. The Daredevil identity serves many purposes for Matt, but one of its main functions is as a tool of empowerment. Its initial purpose was to give him a way to avenge his father’s death without breaking his promise to not become a fighter. After growing up unable to defend himself from bullies, unable to use his training (once he acquired it) out in the open, and ultimately unable to protect the person who meant most to him, he put on a mask and gave himself an alias, and thereby empowered himself to break free of that cycle of helplessness. Losing that power is certainly one of his greatest fears, and so the idea of choosing to render himself useless would be horrifying to him.

This is also a theme of Soule’s run in particular. This arc deals with the deterioration of the wonderful life he built for himself, Kirsten, and Foggy in San Francisco-- a destruction that is partly his fault, and which he is powerless to stop. It leads to the Purple Children’s decision to make the world forget Daredevil’s secret identity-- a decision in what Matt had no say. In the arc before this, Matt nearly commits suicide because he was unable to stop Muse from blinding Sam. And of course, the final arc of the run-- “The Death of Daredevil”-- is all about powerlessness; Matt achieves a huge victory over the Kingpin, then realizes it was just a dream. But the lesson inherent in Soule’s run is that whether or not he wins, Matt will never choose to not fight.

This moment of clarity and self-awareness, and the realization that his worst nightmare is actually coming true and he needs to stop it, allows Matt to break free of the mind control. He kicks the Purple Man’s butt and saves the Purple Children, who repay him by “solving” his secret identity issues (Hey, at least they meant well. I love the Purple Children...) But regardless of the unfortunate outcome, this is a great battle of wills between Matt and one of his most dangerous enemies, and is definitely one of my favorite single issues of the run.

#Daredevil vol. 5 #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Purple Man #Zebediah Killgrave #Commentary #Adventures in Continuity

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solarbin · 6 years

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Okay, I know it’s kinda late in the game to make reaction posts about WL but here I am with a considerable amount of feelings and thoughts at this point that I just wanna jot them down cause I’m hella infuriated and this should help me sort things out for myself. So, let's go, episode 9 under the cut.

First things first, most of the scenes between these two have been what I’ve affectionately dubbed “watching a plank and a board,” although I think I’d find a plank and board more interesting than them that’s beside the point I guess. Very rarely do I see them just... you know.. talk to spend time with one another and truly understand/get to know the other. Or, when they are shown talking, it’s always about exposition to further the plot or an argument breaks out so I fail to even see how they have any genuine chemistry at all, but I digress. (and lookie there, right by the end of this scene they’re arguing. Again. Not even playful bantering with each other, these two just bloody argue and make each other upset or cause the other to act childish. I just... If you’re gonna write a romance, try to make one that makes me at least give a crap, please.)

So, besides Hongbin’s character, the only other one I found enjoyable was this lovely woman. She’s so precious, I love her. She’s sassy and takes no shit which is just enjoyable to watch. I especially loved her logical conclusion that not everything has to be solved by magic, haha. Including that by rubbing it in a millennial’s face that all she has to do to find granny #2 is just to track down by her GPS location! LOL

//beleaguered sighs//

Waiter Jaewook ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

//Scoffs// I don’t know what I find funnier, the fact that the director gets jealous of a hired help that just happens to be the “love rival” (you “won” the girl’s heart, why are you being a bitch?) or the fact that the director helps out with the restaurant when HE’S THE REASON THEY HAVE TO WORK SO HARD FOR THE MONEY TO PAY RENT. Take a moment to let that sink in. He’s the BUILDING OWNER, they can’t take a day off anymore cause they have to pay that asshole rent when they originally owned the building but he acquired it in a roundabout way. I’m just.... does he not remember WHY they’re forced to work and never take a day off? Good job on continuity errors, writers.

Wow, what a--

Nevermind--he’s got it. (He’s right, you know.)

I mean, not to go off on a tangent here, but obviously the (precious) granny hired Jaewook to help while she’s gone since we’ve already established that both grannies like him (I mean, who best to help out than a favorite customer and their favorite webtoon writer LOL). So, pushing the love triangle away for a minute, Chohong has no right to cast Jaewook’s help (and quite frankly, his livelihood since he needs the money) aside. Bad form, Chohong. This officially did it for me when it came to her character. I’ve legitimately stopped caring about her at this point. Like, just because of the circumstances, she rather treats the person who’s helping her and her family coldly and cruelly than to instead politely excuse him from work with his pay with grace and kindness. There is no reason to be a dick about it even if it puts you in an awkward situation over the fact you know that person has feelings for you while you’re techinically with someone else.

SNORTS (He’s right, you know.)

//beleaguered sighssssssss//

I hate over-possessiveness.

I don’t feel like putting a screenshot of the next scene, but might I say, I’m living for the secretary's savagery towards his boss, the renowned jerk. Because... ///whispers// he’s right, you know.

The guilt on her face is also relieving. Yes, you have the man you know that saved you from dying--not the CPR aspect since that couldn’t save anyone! LOL but his “kiss” did technically bring her back--and that loves you unconditionally but you actively push him out like a nuisance despite his viewpoint of acceptance towards someone who’s different from the norm! (Wow, that almost sounds like the chicken girl from moorim, funny that.) I remember reading a comment saying Jaewook always says the right things but in the end, he’ll lose for... reasons which is sadly the truth. Also, here’s the thing, I don’t like blaming female characters for things that shouldn’t be their fault, since I understand it’s hard to let down someone who feels something for you but you don’t return those feelings, but in these drama’s the female lead never properly addresses things so it’s on them for being a shithead towards someone that does care about them and I can’t stand that.

Carrying on to the next scene where she gets upset at the director for casting out the thought of witch’s existing, like seriously.... what was she honestly expecting?! She clearly wanted to hear him say the exact same thing Jaewook did about acceptance but got a bucket of cold reality washed over her lol. Good. You deserve it.

//BELEAGUERED SIGHSSSSS//

I don’t have it in me to blame Hongbin on this one (or... Jaewook technically since this is a writing issue due to culture and systemic male entitlement) but I’m tired of toxic masculinity in kdramas.

I’m going to address the elephant in the room.................. Lee Hongbin looks more comfortable cuddling a male than the precious Jin Kijoo. There, I said it. My EunwooxJaewon/Jin Kijoo stan heart is partly shattered. But I’ll survive knowing how effortlessly gay bin can be with his friendo Gongchan.

(I already commented on this but just quick recap) Was this really necessary? Did we have to really do this? Did my heart have to truly suffer? The answer is no to all the above.

So the last part of this episode is dedicated to the second granny which was a better love story than this love triangle mess. Not to mention, way more exciting than the dry, bare-boned romance between the director and Chohong, which I find so laughable at this point. The director/producer of this series claimed they had phenomenal chemistry and I’m about to whip out a magnifying glass because... bitch where??????

Anyway, We’re fortunately at the home stretch! Thank god. After episode 10 is subbed, that just leaves us with two more episodes left! Next week shall be the end and hopefully, Binnie will get a different role that is less in this nature of trope-y-ness cause I’m just tired.

Thank you to anyone that reads this :’) I hope my venting and commentary was entertaining at least. ;;;; I’ll probably make reaction posts to the last remaining episodes.

#witch's love #hongbin #rants.doc

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paraclete0407 · 3 years

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I used to post here under SN’s that referred to K-pop ‘uncle’ fans before I realized it’s not really a funny joke; I had actually joined Tumblr in part at least because I had been ‘training’ or studying to become a high school teacher and wanted to see what today’s teens were up to.

I later got really in to K-pop particularly Girls Generation and even contemplated rekindling my Media Studies interests with a view to describing the ways in which GG were trying to change culture or open people’s eyes to beauty, perhaps ‘moral beauty,’ or ‘naive and sentimental love.’

I associated GG with a Victorian cult of ‘moral beauty’ from people such as Oscar Wilde, Walter Pater, and above all John Ruskin (’Sesame and Lilies’; ‘Unto this Last’), who believed that somehow ‘tiny, pretty’ things could help redeem the human race. Girls Generation were ‘sex-positive, love-positive.’

Later on the so-called 3rd generation girl-groups got really out of hand in my opinion. My favorite group, Oh My Girl, were interdicted at an airport for supposed or real underage sex-trafficking which isn’t really funny and might not be fake news either.

I later gravitated toward Gfriend, in part because SinB / Hwang Eunbi and Sowon / Kim Sojung were Roman Catholic, and in part because I thought they more than GG or OMG were ‘measured, circumspect,’ and ‘as honest as one possibly can be without saying too much’ when it comes to the possibilities of romantic or affectionate ‘amor’ love and what young couples can expect to face when they set out to tread ‘the fragrant path, the virgin road, the bridal way.’

My favorite GG song - the only one I really listen to or think about much anymore - is ‘Complete.’ ‘In a beautiful season, sunshine flashing on the eyelashes...’ I loved how Lee Sooman or whoever produced ‘Complete’ didn’t over-blend the girls’ voices but made it like a children’s song in which the individuality of the singer wasn’t subsumed in some corporate whole or monolithic aggregate ‘message’ (rather, desire to convey or force upon the listener a single aesthetic effect).

My favorite Gfriend song was ‘Sunshine,’ although mostly I listened to a reminiscent fan-music version called ‘Sunshine Nature Version,’ which was a ‘strident’ (the word people mis-use when they mean ‘striding, propulsive’) piano-cover with a video that featured Gfriend’s trip to Slovenia.

IDK if it matters at this late point in the history of K-pop’s 3-gen and the Delta variant of Covid-19 which could burn through much of the Western World or at least Anglo America, but my actual favorite Gfriend member was Yerin, Ms. Jung Yerin, partly b/c she looks like my former student from Korea and was born in the same year; 1996.

I had very high hopes / ambitions for this student, who from the beginning I considered ‘suasive, gentlewomanly, possessing savoir-faire.’ She said that she wanted to be a type of service-worker but I thought she could make it as a diplomat or something in politics. She put me in mind of Colossians 4:6, ‘Let your speech be always savory, seasoned with salt, so that you may have an answer for everyone you meet.’ She had the gift of speaking directly to you as if she knew who you were, understanding her audience you could say. Though she came from a poor and - quite literally - disenfranchised area of the RoK, with left behind people, where they said the best kids around couldn’t compete with the worst from Seoul, I still thought that she was under-selling herself. IDK why in retrospect I assumed that a young woman’s not wanting a high-powered career automatically constituted under-selling oneself, particularly when I myself gave up on law school &c. a long time ago and didn’t feel that bad about it; or at least, nary worse about that than about the human race in general and how business is done in this day and age. (I realize that is moral relativism.)

I had sex-problems before going to Korea and I had them after. Tumblr made them worse in some ways and K-pop. Moreover, ‘sweet love and sex’ are not going to save everyone. There are all kinds of terrifying evil things in the world today. I read that during the initial stage of the coronavirus pandemic in Wuhan a lot of Chinese were ‘looking at porn’ / viewing pornography. Maybe many kids in America were as well and perhaps it has accelerated the brain-damage and brutalization of character / taste that are wrought by everything that pornography tells the brain and soul about sex, about women, and particularly about young women.

I honestly think pornography will be banned in the near future. I used to joke, ‘Some people are libertarians, socialists, some believe in helping the poor and weak and others believe in laissze-faire sink-or-swim it’s-all-your-fault neoliberal capitalism’ - and reply, ‘I’m a paternalistic theocrat.’ I don’t think I was really joking either.

Anyway, Tumblr appears to be a good venue for young people to communicate with one another but it also leads to indulgent fantasies of revenge (’let’s hang / guillotine all business-majors), with attendant destructive ideologies. There is also a huge amount of sexual content that might seem funny or ironic to Millennials like me and what we sometimes used to call ‘Zoomers’ / Gen Z). However, this pornography involves real human beings and in more extreme cases abets actual child-rape and child-sex-trafficking while brutalizing people’s sexual tastes worldwide.

Today I think there are bigger things to worry about than what author Yiyun Li calls ‘bedroom business’ such as war, the current pestilence which continues to mutate and kill in unexpected ways and places, along with flawed vaccines that can also kill, probable famine in some areas and a huge backsliding into poverty for IIRC something like 100 million children worldwide; which can further expose them to lost educational opportunity, hunger, disease, and again, rape and sex-trafficking. Americans moreover, I think (or rather US and Canadian citizens), consider much of the rest of this world and many of these souls or ‘particular individuals’ to be more or less empty vessels; statistics; or else totally unreal. My own mom keeps telling me that basically I was never in Korea, that Korean isn’t a language but only a set of symbols, and that Koreans don’t exist or if they do I never saw one. I recently started to feel as if I want to leave America for good but I have spent a lot of my money on books and I am not sure where I would go.

At any rate, if anyone picks this up, at least take cognizance of the fact what people post on Tumblr and AsianFanfics isn’t good advice but more like ‘object-lessons’ or portraits of the ‘beautiful and damned.’ I don’t think stuff like this makes people happy.

I assured somebody a while back I would quit listening to K-pop and did so except for Taeyeon. The last groups I followed were IZ*ONE and Dreamcatcher, and I went to the DC concert in 2019 in Chicago. Everyone says that DC’s leader is more beautiful IRL than in pictures but at 25 she already looked deepy furrowed with concern and it was clear that her inner beauty had outstripped the face that she could make to meet the faces she was meeting. She didn’t have a personality or manner or form that could be easily put in to a single frontal category or sense; I think F. Scott Fitzgerald might call her a ‘personage not personality’ - though, I am against summing up women, as if we could box up a person like that.

People today appear still to be reeling from ‘Trumpism’ in terms of this obsession with image or frontal ‘imago’ and the obsession with making ‘be be the end of seem’ or demanding that everyone look the part tout court. Donald Trump for instance distrusted his highly talented National Security Adviser (Lt. Gen.) H.R. McMaster due to the latter’s intellectual appearance, and in spite of the fact that while Trump was on the phone in Manhattan McMaster was commanding an M1A1 main battle-tank in Operation Desert Storm and winning a Silver Star. McMaster also nowadays has been working with an organization I highly respect, North Korea News, where they try to learn and spread the truth about people I consider some of the most Cross-bearing in the world and also important to humanity’s future in spiritual terms as well w/r/t authentic and useful understanding of human / world / US history since about 1866.

I am also concerned RN that many people are trying to ‘teach themselves’ more about the gross and scope of all human history and particularly in terms of Anglo-American policy in the Indo-Pacific since the Battle of Singapore or so, the consequences of Japanese imperialism and whether or to what extent the Empire of Japan was the ‘fault’ of Commodore Perry, as if America’s excessive affection for or faith in the value of commerce caused Japanese to commit mass-rape and conduct biological warfare in China, when they ought to be loving their neighbors today and making critical investments in their children, as well as securing the innocent against blowback from mistakes from the past that no one can totally fix but for which there are numerous self-appointed revengers and punishers in the world right now.

I often in the past few years thought of a Christian AsianFanfics author - my favorite fanfiction artist - SummerChild, of ‘Saving Suzy’ about an alienated writer and a former sex slave at the apparent end of the world; and wondered whether I ought also to plant some kind of ‘good’ fanfic in a poisoned soil like AFF or else totally take leave of and separate myself from that platform. I think in retrospect that separation from evil is important, though making people aware of their evil and that evil is evil is also important; and that separating oneself from the evil is ultimately the loving thing to do for evil people and evildoers as well, AFAIK. I guess for the Christian that means leaving your bad family though in ultimate terms this separation also means dividing God’s holiness and His holy or sanctified chosen ones away from the damned and reprobate in Hell.

IDK if anyone will pick this up but starting in 2016 I started to see visions of (Pope, St.) John Paul II; and recently, finally began to read his encyclical ‘Human Life’ (Humana Vitae), which apparently predicted a lot that is happening in the world today, such as abortion, euthanasia, or the commercialization of the human body such as through organ-harvesting and rape-for-sale in Xinjiang. Today many people are waging private and/or public wars in America at least and appear to feel anything goes; they’ll apologize for anything and everything and refuse to draw a line and they will compliment themselves for being understanding. They also appear to think that erasing a line is humanistic, life-affirming etc. without grasping that they erase human lives when they erase certain lines.

I honestly don’t even know how long I will live though I am ‘only’ 36. I am concerned that Covid-19 and the broader Judgment of which it was coefficient or an instrument is going to get worse for North America than it has been so far though many people want to celebrate and celebrate. They’re preparing to resume life but I am frankly really concerned about the nearness of death, spiritual and physical. I wish I could warn someone, tell someone. I am trying to hold on to life and a ‘culture of life’ though I came to this late; and I also rebelled and raged against some of my best ‘teachers’ due to their attitudes towards East Asia, which I felt were either dismissive of the value of lives or else touristic. If I live through ‘Delta summer’ I am wishing to move to Vietnam, Korea, anywhere, Latin America, Somalia, where there is a very high birthrate and therefore a lot of potential human value, not to say grounds for miracles. But I’m sincerely concerned the American Midwest, erstwhile impregnable or unreachable by most weapons of war, and relatively untouched by plagues within living memory, is less prepared for what is or could be coming than they want to believe; and that neither their individual or family institutions nor their social / governmental institutions are prepared nor honestly want to be, which strikes me as insane because it’s pointless to let bad things happen either macro such as to cities or micro such as to tomorrow’s children, when measures could be taken to protect the undefended and provide for the sick and poor now and to train kids in the right way so they stand at least a chance. People are really waiting for what Confucius called ‘signs and wonders.’ I wish I could warn them not to let everything happen because everything has meaning - a famous quasi-Christian author wrote a book called ‘Everything is Spiritual’ although by this reasoning Hell is also extremely spiritual or at least meaningful - but not everything is good or expedient to say least. So many people are also obsessed or fascinated with the CCP or the seemingly infinite spiral of Chinese history and others are still debating Hitler and Stalin as if understanding such matters were intrinsically valuable; to which one could reply, ‘Whose value and for whom?’ It reminds me of a debate I had decades ago with somebody who I think sense then lost their moral compass to an extent but who then rightly reproached me for seeking theological or jurisprudential arguments for forgiving the most clearly demonic individuals and actions, and neglecting those who clearly deserve a little more bread, a little more attention and graciousness, better teachers, better places to sleep, desks to study at, quiet homes, reasonable adults - good police also - and stand to benefit far more from what one poet called ‘the sweet and obvious side of the light’ than from these extreme theological / eschatological exercises. In any event lately I was trying to support and promote various authors, political leaders, old friends and others I had some confidence in but I found that nearly one and all were more interested in either a) dissecting me or b) fighting ‘duels’ with either me or one another over questions like ‘How much napalm was dropped on North Korea’ as if knowing the exact quantity would give them the ‘critical mass’ of factors for their ‘decision point’ on whether they should care. IDK, how much phosphorous and napalm burning you would make you care? They clearly never read ‘Fire Road.’ These people are all invested in their own careers and constituencies and ‘sunk costs’ as well as conscious or unconscious assumptions about either their national identity and ‘national character’ or what used to be called sth like ‘the peculiar genius of the _ people.’ They wanna fly the same flags as ever. I was listening to ‘Grace to You’ with the incomprehensibly erudite Pastor-Teacher John MacArthur who was teaching today that Rome was / is the final empire, before and after what is called the ‘Church Period.’ Whether it’s the European Union or some other consortium or confederacy it never really went away. The Roman Empire has presided nevertheless over hugely nauseating and at least somewhat avoidable or fungible atrocities and it makes me sad to see so many just reading the papers or going out. I wish I had more money, resources, connections, a platform. I guess everyone wants more. Night is falling over Milwaukee, it seems to me, and many people think this is a story - they think it’ll be fun / interesting / a learning experience. What more is there is to learn? Beginnings, endings. I find that someone wants me to deal in ‘apologetics’ and others want me to tell them exactly what will happen in the future, though I think that a) I’m not that important and b) I really don’t know if what I see is either true or ‘evitable.’ I only recently gained something like a loving heart toward even the people I most believed in and admired in the past, who loved me, and taught me about love, and to love. I read St. Augustine for years and thought of him when I was in KR and over the years also came to theorize reading and interpretation / hermeneutics in a pretty sophisticated way of which I am dangerously proud. I avoided personal responsibility over the years and right now am concerned for both my own life and the lives and souls many in the city I live in, people from the past and even people I have never met. I sincerely think that there could be a major terrorist attack in Milwaukee or a flare-up of the Delta and/or other Covid variants whereas people want to ram everything through the way it is including their children in the name of some vain defiance of reality. Parading around. Driving 80-90 on I-95. I did that back in 2016, driving with headlights on all day. Instead of this parade or death-life-race or whatever corporatist fantasy it is they should stop trying to do everything at once and think of their souls, think of their kids, think of not telling lies or equivocations about abortion or homosexuality or whether a good marriage is a good marriage or whether it’s better to tell the truth or tell lies. Delta Covid, private arsenals of automatic weapons, Russian suitcase-nukes smuggled by North Korea’s Bureau 39 on the behalf of ISIS or Syria or God knows who. But the person I believe in maybe more than anyone else in the world, my ‘sister’ of nationality I shouldn’t say but fellow believer, told me in no uncertain terms to be concerned about (thermo)nuclear terrorism.

4 million people died so far from coronavirus and people have been talking since 9.11.2001 about how ‘the real world’ was finally coming to America but 9.11, Katrina, et cetera are not really comparable in scale to what ‘the real world’ has been to Russia, Korea, Europe, et al.

I lit a candle in my room.

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eurello · 4 years

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Media Diet, Week of April 19th

I am forever working on improving the quality of the deluge of culture I am taking in at all times. Lately, I’ve been especially rigorous about this, as I keep realizing exactly how much valuable time I am wasting slurping up really dumb stuff. In an attempt at accountability (and to make myself ashamed to spend too much time on anything purely dumb), I am going to try logging and posting about the culture I consume. I will analyze what attracts me to the trashier things, and attempt to train myself, little by little, day by day, into better habits.

Sunday, April 19th:

As I was getting ready and making breakfast, I listened to podcasts as usual — the end of Oh No, Ross & Carrie, and the beginning of Baby Geniuses. I enjoy both of these podcasts a lot, and I think they are good things to listen to, although this particular episode of ONRC went on for too long. I have gone through phases of listening to a lot of political podcasts, but I have recently admitted to myself that I’m not that interested in politics, and that is perfectly fine. I think it’s important for a citizen to remain up to date and aware of what is going on, but I have this sort of weird feeling that smart people are obsessed with politics? And I don’t know why I feel that way. There’s nothing especially noble or intelligent about political governance; quite the opposite most of the time. Politicians are often venal, and even if when they aren’t, the more time you spend paying attention to the largely broken processes they attempt to navigate and massage every day, the worse it probably is for your own sense of hope, and certainly for your own creativity. So I’ve let myself off the hook on this one, and now I mostly listen to humor podcasts and weird fictional things.

As I drank my breakfast (smoothie/coffee) and procrastinated at doing something more worthwhile, I spent probably two hours on Twitter, Instagram, and various websites. This is becoming a big problem for me. On Twitter, I follow mostly comedy writers, liberals, feminists, black Twitter, and weird Twitter (and intersections of all of the above), and some local political organizations. I tweeted a lot this morning, as well. On Instagram, I follow a lot of the same people I do on Twitter, plus a TON of visual artists. I am not a visual artist, but because Instagram is a visual medium, it’s nice to follow artists, and I sometimes find it inspiring — if not to create art myself, at least maybe to make my house look nicer (although I never do). I also follow some old school fashion and lifestyle bloggers who I’ve been following for like ten years, and although I do not find that kind of blogging interesting at all anymore, I am interested in these particular people, and invested in their lives at this point. I also embarrassingly have been paying a good bit of attention lately to a certain terrible influencer, who I won’t name because I don’t want to draw the wrong kind of attention here, but you probably know who she is. She is entirely boring, but people are interested in her for a variety of reasons, and they all have complicated explanations for why. I think it’s that she’s sort of the purest example of the sort of woman (blond, thin, pretty, performatively aspirational yet empty enough to be completely non-threatening to anyone) that middle-class Americans have always been culturally encouraged to admire and, if they are women, to emulate, and yet, it’s so apparent that there is no there there. I imagine most people who follow her are thinking, “I can’t believe I thought I needed to be this in high school!” For me personally, there’s something else to it, and after thinking about it so that I could write it down here, I think it is that I spend a lot of time mildly regretting that I had not been more intentional about pursuing my creative dreams in my 20s (I was sort of dabbling in comedy and performance and writing; I had some talent but little intelligence), but at the same time, when I look back over my work and writings from that time, I am horrified by how stupid I was without realizing it (and not just stupid for my age, because I was surrounded by far more intelligent and creative people who have gone on to do amazing things, and there are many preternaturally wise and hilarious babies who are creating right now). Had I had a bigger platform at the time, I fear I would have looked a lot like a less successful this girl. So, it’s a sort of cautionary tale that really just serves to make me feel better about having avoided exposure I’d now regret (albeit through laziness rather than foresight). And also, being able to realize this now is a reminder that I am at least smarter now than I used to be, so I have been growing in some way, even if it feels like I’ve just been atrophying intellectually and creatively ever since I got a real job. I think now that I’ve written this down, I’m ready to let go of paying attention to her. Also, though, I just feel bad for her, and I want to see what happens to her and if she ends up ok or not. Which possibly sounds nobler than it is — am I really just rubbernecking at an accident? I don’t think I wish her harm. Anyway, in non-shame scrolling, two of my favorite comics on Twitter and Instagram right now are Eva Victor and Alyssa Lamparis. They are both brilliantly hilarious.

The first few chapters of “Joshua”, while working on one of my blog posts about the Old Testament.

A chapter of The High Growth Handbook, for work, which I’m finding more interesting than most business books.

Moral Clarity by Susan Neiman, which I’m not really enjoying. This isn’t necessarily why I’m not enjoying it, but I gave some thought while reading this about why I find the left’s current backlash against “identity politics” to be disingenuous. I mean, other than the fact that it is only white people (and mostly white men) who argue that identity politics are a pointless distraction from real social change. And it’s that nobody — no matter how naive — thinks that we are going to transform all human systems overnight. Abrupt revolutions rarely happen in established societies, and even when they do, they never stick; no matter how you come about it, lasting social change always takes forever. So, eschewing identity politics as a mere distraction implies that those who unfairly have less power and influence under the current system should just be content with their marginalization until we have a new system altogether. And that those who are over-represented in the current system shouldn’t be criticized or made to lose anything in the interests of equity and social justice until we have a new system altogether. That this is the same old self-serving bullshit from a different direction seems so obvious to me, I don’t understand why so many smart people are buying into it. There is no getting around our historical legacy of racial oppression! There’s just no scenario in which white people are not going to have to deal with that first, before we can successfully build systems that are more just and more fair! You have to address both things at the same time, and no, just focusing on economic class is not going to cut it — especially not when so many people pretend that they don’t understand that poverty results from lack of access and limited options, and has little to do with whether you have much money at any given time (in reality, they understand this very well). And I can’t take any leader seriously (no matter how far left) who does not get that, and/or who won’t force their followers to acknowledge it.

“Where outrage itself is exhausted, even despair is impossible. The resulting inertia is not the result of an ideology, postmodern or otherwise. But anyone who wants to oppose it must oppose an ideology that makes inertia the most rational response.”

Finished Baby Geniuses and started listening to Get Rich Nick as I prepared for my run, and as I showered after my run. Nick V is a good pal of mine from Chicago — we came up through iO at the same time and were on a Harold team together for like a year. He’s hilarious and I enjoy his podcast, but I suspect I partly find it so funny because it’s just very…Nick.

I listen to the same Spotify playlist on every run. I made it for running and it’s all exactly what you’d expect someone like me would listen to while running.

I watched an episode of season 2 of “Big Little Lies” while I ate dinner. I thought the first season (while it had its faults) was perfectly cast and pretty impressively honest in how it dealt with domestic violence and rape. I wasn’t interested enough to seek out season 2, but I recently noticed HBO is streaming some shows for free right now on Amazon Prime (which I have finally, finally canceled because #morals but still have through August), so I started watching it, and I still love the cast. I will watch Laura Dern in absolutely anything, and it’s really fun to watch Reese Witherspoon play what I imagine is basically herself.

Listened to more Get Rich Nick while I cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed.

Finished the night off with The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty — she’s one of my faves and I’ve read two of these four collections multiple times, but right now am on The Wide Net which is new to me. Read the titular “The Wide Net” and really enjoyed it and then “A Still Moment,” which was boring but made me want to get my computer out and google Audubon. Then fell asleep reading this weird old novel I’m slowly working through called The Man Who Loved Children.

“‘She’s a lot smarter than her cousins in Beulah,’ said Virgil. ‘And especially Edna Earle, that never did get to be what you’d call a heavy thinker. Edna Earle could sit and ponder all day on how the little tail of the ‘C’ got through the ‘L’ in a Coca-Cola sign.’”

Monday, April 20th:

Instagram on the toilet, Get Rich Nick while I performed my ablutions and made coffee, and Instagram stories and Feedly for a bit while I drank it. I spend less time on this today, the awareness of accountability is already working! About Instagram stories — I usually ignore them altogether but every so often I go through phases of watching them. I find them mostly very boring, but because I mostly follow creatives on Instagram, there’s something inspiring about starting my day by watching a bunch of creative people all around the world making things. At least starting a day off this way (which today fortunately is); starting a work day this way makes me feel an intense despair. I also follow a few farmers, and it’s fun to see their daily lives. And also just a bunch of people who live in gorgeous places around the world. And ok, yeah, a couple of hate follows, which for me are people who I just find so unbelievably grating and irritating in every way that I can’t stop watching them — I just can’t believe they exist and yet aren’t entirely consumed with self-loathing. And I think for me it’s like, I find them so utterly obnoxious in every way, but they still all have lots of people in their lives who truly love them, and that’s affirming to me personally, because I often feel like I couldn’t ask anyone to tolerate me for very long unless/until I’ve attained perfection in every sphere, so it’s a nice reminder to me that that’s not really how people operate. In Feedly, I follow 3 Quarks Daily and The Morning News, some political digests, a number of old school bloggers I’ve been following forever (mostly funny ones), a handful of newsletters (mostly by people who used to be bloggers), and some sustainability bloggers to guilt me into making better choices. I probably spend about 90 minutes on all of this? Which is too much time!

More “Joshua.”

I poke around online and find and follow a handful more artists from around the world on Instagram and/or Twitter. These aren’t really very interesting ones, and so I’ll probably unfollow them soon, but they’re a bunch of diverse young people, and lately I feel out of touch with what young people are doing. One funny thing about young people is they have so much energy and so many interests, so all of them are doing like ten really shitty things — they’re making crappy art, they’re writing nonsense, they’re performing dopey shows, AND they’re in a shitty band. And then they get older and they realize that it takes an incredible amount of time and effort and research and angst to do even one thing semi-well, and at that point, they either disappear or focus. Anyway, I mostly stick to Twitter for these — I only follow artists on Instagram whose work I find genuinely appealing; Twitter is more for people I’m interested in hearing more about how they perceive the world, but am not necessarily interested in what they’re making. Also, for Twitter, I use TweetDeck and make lists, so it’s a lot easier to follow and unfollow groups of people than it is on Instagram. Like I’ll make a list of “possibly interesting” and watch it for awhile, and then I might move two people on it to a more permanent list and then just delete the whole list.

Listen to The Read while I make a smoothie.

Two short stories from an old issue of Salt Hill, both terrible.

A chapter of High Growth Handbook, and two of Moral Clarity.

Listened to The Read and Scam Goddess while gearing up for run, walking back from run showering, cooking dinner, and cleaning up the kitchen. Usual playlist on run.

Spent some lost time on Twitter and Instagram while crouching on the floor and shivering in my sweaty running clothes, and then again after dinner while sitting on the couch. I’m starting to realize that I look at social media when what my brain really wants to be doing is just….sitting and staring and not taking in anything.

Three Welty stories, “Asphodel” (enjoyable), “The Winds” (in which Welty is starting to find the voice she will master in The Golden Apples), and “The Purple Hat” (eh). Interrupted, I am embarrassed to admit, by looking at Twitter and my email and also reading some articles about Welty.

The Man Who Loved Children

Tuesday, April 21st:

There are two things I want to stop doing, and I did both today. First, after my alarm went off, I spent 90 minutes hitting the snooze button and also pursuing Twitter and Instagram in bed. My entire goal is to reserve as much time for myself in the evenings as possible, for doing what I want to be doing. And I waste a lot of that limited time in procrastinating what I don’t want to be doing. And this is the first place it happens — lounging in bed staring at my phone instead of getting up and going to work.

Finished Scam Goddess and started The High Low while I got ready, made coffee and my smoothie.

After work, I did the second thing I want to stop doing — I spent 90 minutes sitting on the couch looking at Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and rubbernecking at a long train wreck thread on NextDoor (people are wilding out at this point), procrastinating getting my running kit on and going out for my exercise. All together, this is THREE HOURS of wasted time that could go toward my evenings, where I get to do the stuff I want to do! I’m robbing myself of this valuable time.

I walked for most of my run because I was sore from some exercises I did, and I finished The High Low. When I got home, I listened to Office Ladies, which is not a very good podcast, but it’s just mindlessly comforting to listen to and I like thinking about The Office, which is mindlessly comforting to watch, as I took a shower, made dinner, and cleaned up the kitchen.

The Man Who Loved Children

Wednesday, April 22nd:

Well, I still hit the snooze for an hour but I DIDN’T browse Twitter before I got out of bed. Listened to Lady to Lady while I got ready and made a smoothie and coffee.

Couple of breaks during my workday, during which times I looked at Twitter, Reddit, and Instagram.

I worked later than usual and it was rainy out, so I didn’t go out for exercise, but I still spent TWO HOURS on the couch mindlessly scrolling (Twitter, Instagram, NextDoor train wreck). So, all told, I still wasted three hours on garbage today.

Listened to Lady to Lady and Your Favorite Band Sucks while I made dinner, ate it, cleaned up after it, and got ready for bed. Your Favorite Band Sucks takes down a lot of bands I genuinely like, and I truly do enjoy hearing people rip apart things that I enjoy for some reason (cultural masochism). This episode, though, is on Billy Joel, which I feel is low-hanging fruit, although it reminds me of when this guy I had a massive crush on in high school got super into Billy Joel (I know) and so I spent a few months listening to him and trying to convince myself I also thought he was brilliant. Listening to this podcast makes me realize how much time I spent trying to convince myself that I liked bands that guys I had a thing for worshipped. I don’t really listen to music very much (note absence of it from this entire week) since podcasts became a thing -- I just always vastly prefer narrative if I have a choice. Either music is too distracting from the thing I’m trying to do, or I have enough bandwidth to listen to a podcast while I’m doing the thing, which I prefer. There’s just very rarely any place in my day where music makes sense. You will never find me getting stoned or drunk and just sitting and listening to music -- I can’t fathom how people do that. Whenever I’ve tried it, I’ve just gotten so angry that I took away the mental capacity to read and am wasting all that excellent reading time just sitting there. I guess I don’t really like turning my brain off. Some people spend all their time trying to turn their brain off, but that actually causes stress in my case; fun for me is more taking a ton of adderall to really get it jumping. I don’t mean to imply by that that I’m smart or I use my brain for anything worthwhile, I really, really don’t. I just like the feeling of being alert and I like thinking my dumb thoughts and following along with narratives of whatever kind.

The Man Who Loved Children

Thursday, April 23rd:

Success! I hit snooze for 20 minutes only and then I got to work!

Listened to a new podcast by a comic I like while I got ready, and I won’t say which one, because it wasn’t very good, and I don’t want to slam the first episode (I’m sure it will get better).

Very brief Instagram/Twitter/Feedly breaks a couple times throughout the day.

Success again! After work, I only looked at Twitter for 20 minutes before heading out for my run. Usual playlist on run. On my walk back, I recorded an Instagram story.

Listened to old episodes of Sawbones and By the Book (both of which I’m trying to decide if I like or not) and You’re Wrong About while getting ready for run, showering, cooking dinner, cleaning up the kitchen, getting ready for bed. This episode of You’re Wrong About was about Marie Antoinette and was really fun, although I have a hard time with this podcast, because the voice of the woman who hosts it kind of traumatizes me. I do not like criticizing women’s voices and she can’t help her voice or how it affects me, but she has this sort of sarcastic, flat, patronizing tone that makes her sound like a cool girl of the intellectual cast of cool girls who thinks you are the stupidest little try-hard femme ever to be brought before her, and it gives me some unpleasant flashbacks to certain incidents in college. But I like the podcast overall (and her probably!) and so I just try to get over it.

Read “Livvie” by Eudora Welty, and then finished The Man Who Loved Children.

Friday, April 24th:

Hit snooze for a full hour, but then got up. Listened to another first episode of a new podcast by another comic I like that also was not very good while I got ready, etc. and also a bit later in the car as I made a grocery store run.

Couple very short Twitter/Feedly breaks throughout the day.

Usual music playlist on run. I’ve got a podcast playlist of weird fictional stuff that I’m mostly listening to old episodes of from the beginning and many are new to me and I’m trying to decide if I liked them. Today, during the usual periods of podcast listening, I went through episodes of Welcome to Night Vale and The Lost Cat Podcast, both of which I am enjoying, although I have trouble paying attention to Welcome to Night Vale and always realize after I finish an episode that I didn’t really hear any of it.

Watched 1.25 episodes of Big Little Lies while I ate takeout and spotted my friend Mike playing the marriage counselor in one of them! Having a background in performance makes for very weird TV and movie experiences now, because I’ll pretty often see someone I know well in something. Often, it’s a really happy surprise like this one, but sometimes it’s a really unpleasant one, like when you’re sitting around with your family and you see a guy who dumped you pretty brutally playing the dopey, amiable dad in a commercial and get plunged into despair and self-hatred in the midst of a bunch of oblivious people in your aunt’s living room and start to feel like you are living in a surreal world no one else is actually a part of and also like your personality is fragmenting in what is possibly a psychotic way.

Started The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane. I’m really happy to be done with The Man Who Loved Children and on to a new book, and this one looks to be an easy, possibly dumb page-turner, which is well-timed.

Saturday, April 25th:

Snoozed for 40 minutes. Listened to Tanis while coffee etc. Bit of Instagram and Feedly.

While I cleaned the house and deep cleaned my office, I listened to The Bright Sessions, Within the Wires, The Box Podcast, Tracks, and Rabbits.

While I got ready for run, walked back from run, made dinner, cleaned up kitchen, put the laundry away, and got ready for bed, listened to Father Dagon, The Amelia Project, Glasgow Ghost Stories, Middle: Below, The Last Movie, The Van, Video Palace, Blackwood, Dreamboy, Caledonian Gothic, and The London Necropolis Railway. I went through a ton of podcasts today (but also these fiction ones are quite short).

Started to read “At the Landing” by Welty, but I fell asleep super early. I usually save fiction for a couple hours in bed before I go to sleep, because fiction is my favorite thing in the world, but I am so tired by the time I lie down that I often can’t really enjoy it, and fight to stay awake while I try to read and then just fall asleep. So I might need to rethink this timing.

Overall, I think this has been a successful first week of doing this! On Saturday, I had a day off, and I spent basically zero time procrastinating with garbage media! I can really see how my consumption of dumb stuff went down through the week.

#media diet

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