#and instead i have to work around so many time constraints and time frames because the bride doesn't know how to plan things in advance

[emptymanuscript]

Creators: 3 Things I Did to Stop Wasting Evenings After Work

I want to relabel this:

AN EASY TECHNIQUE FOR LEARNING HOW TO MAKE BETTER ART USING WHAT YOU ALREADY DO AND HAVE

Possibly because I’m terrible at titles and conciseness. 

This is truly EXCELLENT.

I don’t know how well it will work for the exact promised purpose of reclaiming your wasted time but as a general technique for learning how the art you like is put together, this is a supremely good learning exercise. I’ve done this as individual exercises. Every better than average writer I’ve ever met and had the opportunity to talk around this subject has mentioned doing similar things.

But this way of putting it, is superior.

You WILL learn a metric ton doing this.

It is based on very well tested principles and successful applications. There are extremely good reasons for why this works. And, yeah, if you use your off time to do this, you will advance fast.

And while I have more to say about it, the above is really all you NEED. If you even need that. Watch the video. It’s massively useful. The rest is simply commentary about it. That people probably don’t need. I just can’t help myself when the opportunity to write an essay pops up. I’m blaming the speed.

This is actually part of the reason I tend to point fiction novel WRITERS towards fiction MOVIES instead of their actual art form of other novels. Even though reading plenty of novels is an inescapable task if you want to write them.

AND it’s part of the reasons that writing short form fiction tends to educate writers faster than long form does, even though there is no way to avoid practicing long form fiction because there are inescapable differences between the forms.

Which is, in turn, why I am so zeal of the converted around National Novel Writing Month. You absolutely should do it. You should do it more than once. It will help you with things that it is extremely hard to get good help on.

They, and his technique, are all drawing on the same inherent advantage, that the time it takes to do these things are possible for most people within an easily managed time constraint. And for those who can’t keep up with this pace and require stretching it out to multiples of the given time period, it is still short enough that it can accomplish the same goal.

You CAN do these things in the time allotted to them, where as the alternative is NOT POSSIBLE in these sort of short time frames. Even if the full alternatives are possible for you, one or even a few times, because you are up to hyper productivity, they are not possible repeatedly over the long run because they WILL burn you out, making you less productive in the long run.

You can watch multiple movies and play multiple action arcs in a game in the same span of time that you can read a book. The speed and length lets you get more resources to use in the same time period. They ALSO tend to represent a more generalized model. Books have many fewer hands in the creative pot than movies and video games do. They require significantly more investment and therefore significantly more confidence to get significantly more backers to advance to the same stage. This is both a strength and a weakness. 

As a weakness, the production method hampers experimentation, innovation, and originality because it MUST satisfy more people in order to make a profit. AND it has to prove itself every step along the way, so it achieves more controls which exacerbates those weaknesses. 

HOWEVER, as a strength, for you to even see it, means it has worked well enough to convince many highly experienced professionals that it at least ticks the necessary required boxes for a go/no go decision which costs them money and a stake in the success. AND those boxes satisfy the requirements to a sufficient degree that those same highly experienced professionals are willing to risk even more money on the calculated risk that it will make them the profit they need to play again when there is the real possibility of a total loss. You are, essentially, drawing on all of their experience and knowledge when you analyze a movie.

IF you limit this exercise to movies you have a strong emotional reaction to, good or bad - though I recommend starting with your extreme favorite movies and shows, the ones you would pick to take with you to live in isolation with very limited items you can take and use, and only expanding from there, once you’ve done this multiple times with them - you will be getting master class in what not only works powerfully for your aesthetics but which you can also rely on working reliably in the aesthetic senses of an economically meaningful audience you can then draw on. Note that you will eventually want to lean deeper in to your own personal aesthetics for your own products but this provides an excellent base to build on because you are working off a proven product.

Because of how Novel creation and distribution works, it is simply not as reliable an indicator of audience reaction. For no better or more meaningful reason than that less people read books than watch stuff. It’s the difference between 5 stars with 3 ratings and 4 stars with 3,000 ratings. The 4 stars, even though it isn’t as good, is probably a more reliable indicator of the quality of the product.

AND thinking of your art as a product that you have to sell to make more art inhabits this same space of being both a strength and a weakness. In pretty much exactly the same way. It will, especially early on, prevent the full extent of your artistry, while, especially early on, it will guide you toward the kind of expression that will resonate with others. This is WHY, I recommend starting exactly with the movies and shows you love most. And working with them multiple times before you move on. Because the products you love the most are the ones most likely to match what you would want to produce anyway as a reflection of your tastes, even if you have zero intention of ever actually SELLING any art. It will be starting close to where the alternative path would start and lead you close to where you would initially go on the other path while still reaping the advantages of this way of doing things. It makes this way as close as you’re going to get to the best of both worlds.

The trap will come in analyzing phenomenal successes that you don’t love and analyzing what doesn’t work in the stuff you don’t like or even hate. Those are also quite useful as an exercise. But that is all working against the natural grain of the wood so to speak. Analyzing your favorites is working with your taste, while everything else is working against your aesthetic instincts in order to better understand by comparing and contrasting the intricacies of what can and cannot work for you, how, and WHY. WHY being the most important since it will give you insight into how you might do well for yourself what they did poorly in your estimation. But that’s tricky and delicate work that requires a good baseline first.

Short form fiction is exactly the same. It simply takes less time to do it because it is so much shorter. Even though it can often be harder comparing the two forms word to word. Even if your short story is 10x as hard to execute, it’s gonna top out around 10k words (that is a VERY long short story). While a novel is going to really start at a minimum of 50k words. So 5 very long, very complex short stories CAN be done with the same effort and time as an extremely short novel. It’s better for learning, at the beginning, simply because you’ll get more exercises in the same allotment of whatever you happen to be counting. 

Again, there are differences in the forms, there are things about novel writing that you CAN’T learn from short stories. Just the same as there are differences between novels and movies and there are things about novel writing you simply CAN’T learn from movies. However, the extreme majority of all the basic elements are the same. So it is a more efficient use of your time, energy, and effort to learn all you can about the shared features. 

Think of it as the difference between levels of schooling. At each level, you will do absolutely obviously related tasks. It’s simply that the particular tasks within the obviously identical subjects will become more difficult and more specialized each level you go up. Everybody reads the same stuff in 1st grade classrooms. The extreme majority of what anybody reads in a graduate school will not be what the other people in your class are reading because you are so specialized in what you’re doing with the subject. You need to know things that the other people don’t and they’re the same way even though you all started in the same place way back when.

And finally, yeah, nanowrimo is it all again... again. Here though it is the full package within a reasonable constraint. Most people can work at that ridiculous level of effort for that bounded amount of time. It’s hard but possible. And because it is reasonable and constrained, it lets you actually practice those very specialized skills that are confined to the novel form in a way you probably can’t with an unconstrained time limit, trying for a finished level product. It’s a lot of work without being an impossible amount. And it prepares you for the even larger workload of going for the professional level work. It’s sort of like the grad school of novel writing. Still learning but the act of learning is the proof that you are up to the real thing outside of school.

At all these levels, you do what is possible for where you are and grow from there. I still do Nanos occasionally. I don’t get hung up on doing them in a group. They’re a way of honing my skills and experimenting with ideas to see if they have merit to pursue farther. I still do all the other levels, too. They never stop being useful. They’re just useful for different things in different ways. Plus, the more you do them, the easier they all get. I’m still amazed that I managed to get to The End my first few Nanos. I don’t think I finally didn’t finish one by the deadline on my fifth one. But that teaches you things, too. Looking back, that’s pretty good. Having done so many prior ones, I was able to use that same level of effort and energy to do my 18th, 19th, and 20th Nanos over three consecutive months. Where you start, no matter how basic, will not be where you stay or end. It’s ALL good prep for more and better later down the line.

[eccentric-nucleus]

so back in the day i read HPMOR, right? like many people. and as it went on (& yudkowsky kept talking about his writing process on tumblr) it became more and more clear that this was fiction approached from an angle i had never really considered before. i had been vaguely aware of places like the spacebattles forum or the dark lord potter forum, where apparently people wrote stories that were mostly just a long-form way to debate "would the USS Enterprise win against a star trek star destroyer", or whatever. yudkowsky kept saying wild things like "the point of this scene is to vicariously enjoy somebody solving a problem" or "all characters should always do smart things so the reader doesn't get frustrated with them" or "i wanted to add a short arc where this character doesn't instantly solve all his problems but i was worried it would alienate the reader". (see also.) just like, expressing this conceptualization that the point of fiction was to... write a character stomping through a little fake world going from victory to victory so that the reader could enjoy the vicarious glow of having a hard problem presented to them and then immediately resolved. how smart you are for following the line of thought of the main character, who did this smart thing!!

so that was very weird, but it was mostly a singular kind of weirdness. another weird, out-of-touch artifact from the rationalists, like roko's basilisk but harry potter fanfiction instead.

anyway a while back i stumbled across "Mother of Learning", and i think my initial response to it was 'this is less a story with a plot and more a series of obstacles that are presented to the main character to be sequentially overcome'. there was a furry webcomic years ago that was a calvin & hobbes knockoff -- small child, stuffed animal companion who became alive when they were alone, whimsy, etc -- only where calvin & hobbes left the premise unstated, this comic, roughly 30 strips in, had a whole plot explaining: okay so these are a special kind of magical creature that bonds with children. in this metaphor susie's mr. bun is also a magical creature. eventually they start going on adventures together. my overall thought was like, oh i guess i was assuming this was a narrative framing device structured around the themes of the work, but actually this was all meant to be fully diagetic and fully explained as part of the work's "worldbuilding".

anyway mother of learning is like that but for groundhog day. the time loop isn't an unexplained device used to inspect a character through a lens, it's a dragon ball-style training chamber. there are "plot developments" as more information is revealed, but all of that takes a back seat to extensively and exhaustively describing every ability and technique that the main character learns and how they use them to be more powerful. mother of learning is 800,000 words long. the time loop is because they're actually duplicates of the 'real people', in a pocket universe constructed inside of an eldrich monstrosity that was designed to be used every x years by some kind of fated hero to keep it sealed. the main character has to escape partly to make sure some evil cultists don't unseal some stuff, but mostly so he doesn't lose all his experience gains.

anyway so reading that brought me to royal road. (i've always found the name very funny since my main familiarity with the term is the phrase "there is no royal road to geometry - euclid", aka there is no shortcut to learning something; you always have to put in the hard struggle of comprehension. it's actually named after... something from a light novel or something? it used to be a fan forum for a specific work before branching out into a publishing platform.) anyway it's a place to post stuff, like fanfiction.net or fictionpress or whatever. there is a strong genre constraint: they mostly want to hear about their protagonists getting endlessly more and more powerful, and sometimes collecting a harem of sexy women. it's for that kind of fiction. reading a few stories there was very illuminating, in that finally i could place HPMOR in a genre: that of the 'progression fantasy', a profoundly self-indulgent and formulaic genre that's mostly just an action story with a lot of the bits stripped away so they can describe how much more powerful the protagonist is getting. a subgenre of this is the 'litrpg', which are stories with a diagetic video-game-mechanics layer. people are checking their stats and getting experience from killing monsters and leveling up and all that. a lot of them read like text LPs of videogames that don't exist. where the author is, of course, executing a min-maxed run.

(there's a lot of overlap here between progression fantasies and like, xianxia stories? cultivation stories are generally all progression fantasies, and so there's a lot of overlap thematically.)

anyway so that was kind of a grim awareness of a dark corner of the literary world. this stuff is popular. royal road is pretty aggressively farmed by publishers wanting to license stuff so they can make ebooks or w/e; there are author patreons there that make like, thousands of dollars a month for writing chapter 1394 of "my character with a cool spear levels up more". i've read a bunch of progression fantasies but i wouldn't say i really enjoyed any of them, partly because a lot of them are really bad at like... constructing a narrative with any kind of stakes. it's all gonna be jettisoned away in favor of talking more about level ups. it is actually almost exactly the experience of grinding for levels in an RPG: it's not really fun, but it can be engaging in the moment, and also you get to see a number go up, so that's like a reward.

(i started writing one of my own as a writing exercise b/c i wanted to try some short-paced serial work that wasn't porn, and it shot up to uh #40 top-rated on the entire site. it was in the top 10 for a few days. i have some complicated feelings about that.)

recently, i've been reading a lot of, uh, gay incest teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction. a lot of it is incredibly overwrought. 200k words of characters pining guiltily over each other! soap opera antics with miscommunications and secrets! genre cliches piled up in a big heap and remixed! and like, fanfic as a genre can be real formulaic too, right? a lot of people who read&write fanfic don't read much else, and there's absolutely a 'house style' for most fanfic. but when i read fanfic i get the sense that the authors are, you know, aware of some literary conventions, of the various aspects that make up a story, and they're struggling to convey concepts and themes. apparently i'm responsible for inspiring somebody to write what i think is the only sincere donkey/shrek porn fanfic in existence, and personally i think that porn fanfic has a million times the literary and artistic merit as chapter 1400 of randitly fucking ghosthound, because porn, overwrought incest soap opera dramas, is at least saying something about the nature of human desire, whereas most progression fantasy stuff is an utterly self-absorbed thesis on "writing somebody cool and powerful is escapism so i can feel cool & powerful", stretched out to a million words.

like i guess 'i want to feel powerful' is an expression of human desire but it's a particularly flat one. i think a lot about that bit in dead zones of the imagination:

Violence’s capacity to allow arbitrary decisions, and thus to avoid the kind of debate, clarification, and renegotiation typical of more egalitarian social relations, is obviously what allows its victims to see procedures created on the basis of violence as stupid or unreasonable. One might say, those relying on the fear of force are not obliged to engage in a lot of interpretative labor, and thus, generally speaking, do not.

[...]

To be more precise: violence may well be the only form of human action by which it is possible to have relatively predictable effects on the actions of a person about whom you understand nothing. Pretty much any other way one might try to influence another’s actions, one at least has to have some idea who they think they are, who they think you are, what they might want out of the situation, and what their aversions and proclivities are. Hit them over the head hard enough and all of this becomes irrelevant.

a fantasy of having power is, i think, fundamentally a fantasy of never having to know anything you don't want to, of never having to deal with the consequences of your actions. i feel it's a particularly grim thing to enshrine into a millon-word epic.

anyway, hi, i'm back on tumblr, i guess. who can say if this will last. i'm still not happy about the porn ban! for reasons hopefully partially explained by the whole bit about porn above. also the increasing sidelining of custom layouts in favor of a uniform interface. sadly even with that it seems like tumblr is basically the only well-travelled social media site that's not a total algorithmic nightmare, although the first thing i did when i remade this account was to go into the settings and turn off like a dozen algorithmic switches that were all defaulted to 'yes'.

i ended up moving cross-country during the peak of covid b/c my former housemate started having screaming panic attacks literally any time somebody stepped outside the house (literally literally, not emphatically literally). i would not recommend it. now i live somewhere where 'fire' is a season, which is introducing new complications to my life. we'll see how things go from here.

oh yeah, also my icon has more points now. i leveled up V:

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Reparative Reading

I would love, and indeed have been meaning for a long time, to talk about a piece of academic writing from one of my favourite theorists that I think has an ongoing relevance. This is Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading,” first published in the mid-to-late 1990’s and compiled in her 2003 monograph, Touching Feeling. There’s a some free PDFs of it floating around (such as here) for those who want to read it in full – and I would recommend doing so, despite its density in places, because Sedgwick has a marvelous critical voice.

Sedgwick’s topic of contention in this essay is the overwhelming tendency in queer criticism to employ what she thinks of as a paranoid methodology – that is, criticism based around the revelation of oppressive attitudes, and that sees that revelation not only as always and inherently a radical project, but the only possible anti-oppressive project. This methodology is closely related to what Paul Ricoeur termed the “hermeneutics of suspicion” and identified as central to the works of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, which were all progenitors of queer criticism. Sedgwick objects to the fact that the hermeneutics of suspicion had, at her time of writing, become “synonymous with criticism itself,” rather than merely one possible critical approach. She questions the universal utility of the dramatic unveiling of the presence of oppressive forces, pointing to the function of visibility itself in perpetuating systemic violence, and identifying the work of anti-oppression as one based in a competition for a certain type of visibility. She also rejects the knowledge of the presence of oppression alone as conferring a particular critical imperative, instead posing the question, “what does knowledge do?”

As an example, Sedgwick critiques Judith Butler’s commentary on drag in Gender Trouble, one of the works that she uses as an example of a reading based in a paranoid approach. She identifies Butler’s argument that drag foregrounds the constructed aspect of gender as a paranoid approach, due to its focus on revelation of structures of power and oppression, and she finds Butler’s argument lacking in its neglect in acknowledging the role that joy and community formation play in the phenomenon of drag. Near the end of the essay, she also does an example of a reparative reading of the ending of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, claiming that the narrator’s remove from the traditional familial structure and its temporality is precisely what confers his particular moment joy and insight upon discovering that his friends have aged. Broadly, Sedgwick rejects the implication that readings based in joy, hope, or optimism are naïve, uncritical, or functionally a denial of the reality of oppression.

Now, it’s important to note that the message of this essay is not that paranoid readings are bad, and reparative readings are good. Sedgwick is drawing on a body of affect theories (most prominently Melanie Klein’s) that posit the reparative impulse as dependent on and resulting from the paranoid impulse – reparation by definition is something that can only occur after some kind of shattering, and Kleinian trauma theories generally posit that process as something that produces a new object or perspective than pre-trauma. (Something I love about Sedgwick is that she often sets up these binaries that seem at odds with each other, but end up being mutually dependent.) Furthermore, the critical tradition in queer studies that Sedgwick is critiquing in this essay is one that was itself, in many ways, a manifestation of communal trauma, particularly with the impact of the AIDS crisis. Sedgwick herself acknowledged this last point in a later essay, “Melanie Klein and the Difference Affect Makes,” claiming that she didn’t feel she did a good enough job of identifying the AIDS crisis as a driving force behind this trend. So Sedgwick is not discounting the utility of paranoid readings, but rather rejecting the notion that they ought to encompass all of criticism. (In fact, a running theme in Touching Feeling is her representation of various perspectives and methods as sitting beside one another, rather than hierarchically.) And reparative reading, as Sedgwick portrays it, is not the denial of trauma or violence, but a possibility for moving forward in its wake.

Why am I taking the time to outline all of this? Because, while the original essay was written almost 25 years ago, with the academic community in mind, it reflects a similar pattern that I see now in online fandom.

Queer fandom (as that’s what I feel the most qualified to talk about) has a considerable paranoia problem. Queer fandom is brimming with traumatized people who carry varying degrees of personal baggage and are afflicted by the general neuroses that come from existing in a heterosexist, cissexist society. And many people in fandom have been repeatedly burned by the treatment of queer people in media – Bury Your Gays, queerbaiting, queercoded villains, etc. And in such a media landscape, and within such a communal sphere, much of fandom has developed the kind of “anticipatory and reactive” method of media criticism that Sedgwick identifies in this essay.

Fandom gets very excited for new media, certainly, and is prone to adulation of media that seems to fit its ideological beliefs. But it is also very quick to hone in on any potential representative flaw, and use that as a vehicle for condemnation. (This cycling between idealization and extreme, bitter jadedness has been widely commented on). Not only is there a widespread moralistic approach in fan criticism that is very invested in deeming whether or not a piece of media is harmful or not, “problematic” or not, within a simplistic binary framing, but that conclusion is so frequently the end of the conversation. “This is problematic,” “this is bad representation,” “this falls into this tired and harmful trope,” etc, is treated as the endpoint of criticism, rather than a starting point. This is the spectacle of exposure that Sedgwick critiques as central to the paranoid approach – simply identifying the presence of oppressive attitudes in a text is not only treated as an analytic in and of itself, but as the only valid analytic. So often I have seen people jump to take the most pessimistic possible approach to a piece of media, and then proceed to treat any disagreement with that reading as in and of itself a denial of structural homophobia, as naïve, and as not being a critical enough reader/viewer. “Being critical” itself has been taken on as a shorthand for this particular process, which many others have commented on as well.

Now, again, I want to stress that taking issue with this totalizing impulse is not discounting the legitimate uses of identification and exposure, or even of reactivity and condemnation. There are particular contexts in which these responses have their uses – in Sedgwick’s words, “paranoia knows some things well and others poorly.” But that approach has a finite scope. And rejecting the universal application of this particular analytic does not itself constitute a denial of the existence of oppression, or its manifestation in media and narratives. Nor is it about letting particular works “off the hook” for whatever aspects they may have that are worthy of critique. Rather, it’s a call to acknowledge that other critical approaches exist, and that the employment of a more optimistic approach is not necessarily a result of ignorance or apathy about the existence of oppression. It is one that invites us not to lay aside paranoia as an approach, but recognize that it has limited applicability, and question when and how our motives might be better served by another approach.  

I think that “is this homophobic, yes or no?” or “is this good representation, yes or no?” are reductive critical approaches in and of themselves. But I think there’s also room for acknowledgment that not everything needs to be read through a revelatory lens regarding societal oppression at all. Rather than “what societal attitudes does this reflect back?” being the approach, I think there could be a good bit more “What does this do for us? What avenues of possibility does this have?” I think there’s already been leanings in this direction with, for example, the reclaiming of queercoded villains, with dialogues that treat those characters not as reflections of societal anxiety and prejudice, but rather as representative of joy and freedom and possibility in their rejection of norms and constraints. I’d like to see that approach applied more broadly and more often.

Let’s try to read more reparatively.  

[anolyso]

Utena thoughts...about 2 weeks later

I've been putting it off for way too long and so most of my thoughts stopped being fresh. On top of watching way too many analysis vids post-watch, but still I do at least want to put my 2cents of Revolutionary Girl Utena out there for the world.

Utena is perhaps one of the most famous "magical girl"/shoujo action shows out there for not only it's transgressive themes of relationship abuse and low-key pretty much being the poster girl for like actual feminist perspective on/in anime...but also just doing it all in both a heavily allegorical and understated, yet super over-the-top stylish fashion

But that's it's reputation preceding itself, is Utena worth while all these years? The answer is Yes, but it also really shows it's age and budget in pacing and repetition, tho as an appreciator for "behind the scenes" compromises in art, it's more showcasing Ikuhara's talent in working around both taboo and long-form budget constraints with just well-thought out and iconic imagery that - while episodic and formulaic - is just very good at filling the 39 eps with feasts for the eyes.

Utena broadly is about tomboy Utena with memories long ago after her parents died being "saved" by a princely figure like a princess...except she's so enthralled by the nostalgia that instead she becomes a full on Prince herself and receives a dueling ring to fight in the Ohtori Acadamy secret duels for "engagement" to Rose Bride Himemiya Anthy.

Utena is divided between 4 arcs, only the first and last being Manga adapted from hearsay:

1: Student Council Saga

2: Black Rose Saga

3: Akio Ohtori Saga

4: Apocalypse

From back to forth I'd say that Akio + Apoc is more just escalation into the finale while Black Rose being anime original comes off as a glorified side-character study which while complementing the secondary cast, feels like one of those Anime movies that has to say "but if you don't watch this part, it's pretty much optional for the main plot" despite it also actually introducing the most important antagonist within it's margins.

More importantly, it's the Student Council (arc and the actual people) that lay the foundation but also a large part of the show's focus which ironically puts Utena in the background until like almost the finale and some in-between developments, so it's less "Utena (and Anthy Himemiya)'s story" until the very end, but more like a showcase of how fucked up the system at large is (pin in that).

By the Council themselves is:

Kyouichi Saionji: The biggest jobber, like actually introduced as the most despicable loser ep 1 and proceeds to be a complete arrogant joke for the rest of the show. Honestly in another shojo "love" story, they'd find some way to redeem him but semi-compellingly they turn him into like an Aqua-lad type pathetic brat with an inferiority complex to the actual Student head

Miki Kaoru: the naive "nice, non-threatening soft boy" that also just never actually listens to the girls around him. Probably adds more complexity to the whole patriarchal idea on analytic reflection since yeah, the whole "nice guy finishes last" plays up better when the kid comes off as that "ally" energy of wanting to save Himemiya from being the Rose Bride but also low-key won't actually not just do the duels and win her cuz he's that sorta wishy-washy hypocrite. Arguably the least hateable guy in the cast (minus mascot Chu-Chu)

Juri Arisugawa: TRAGIC LESBIAN TRIANGLE LOVE. Probably the biggest point to of both "not-explicitly homosexual" but also really freaking obvious since her entire story is her girlfriend stealing her "boy crush" when actually she was crushing on her and being pretty much frustrated throughout her story as pining most of it. It's quaint by today's standards but also like damn girl, get over her she was like the worst back stabbing bitch (literally if Black Rose counts)

Nanami Kiryuu: SPEAKING OF QUEEN BITCH, it's been a long time since I've watched a High School girl bully and honestly it's kinda refreshing. If Miki is "soft-boy uwu" Nanami is a brat that gets her come-uppance often, featured prominently as an anime only with the MOST filler/comedic episodes but also not low-key, being the most out-spoken actual brother complex ironically spins perhaps the biggest twist and ironic relationships of "I love my brother but not-like-that but also like-that" by the end. Mostly comedic relief but I find her inclusion to actually add a lot more to juxtapose...

Touga Kiryuu: Big Student Council Prez himself, the first arc antagonist and also a strong foil to Saionji and later a stepping stone for Akio. Touga is THE image of a Princely Playboy Heart-Throb that in any other Shoujo romance would have the main girl win him over from all those "other girls" despite him being apathetic if not outright manipulative of them. Good thing Utena is better than that and really puts a spotlight on just not-actually-ok his power hunger for "the power to bring the world revolution" that leads him to heavily objectify Anthy, arguably even more than Misogynist Trophy Girlfriend beater Saionji, since he doesn't even see her as more than a means to an end despite professing and looking the Prince part but lacking all the actual virtues.

The Student council matters more since they're characters and subsequent tragic flaws are the ACTUAL meat of the show and on second rumination actual shows more how fucked up the system/gender dynamic/power hierarchy is since - while it blatantly fucks over Juri who can't just outright say who she likes - also show almost it's own sub-text of Masculine failings: Saionji desperately clinging to being TOXIC MASCULINE™ and completely falling short underneath Touga; Miki's "nice boy" act belying him trying to replace his low-key nostalgia for his sister (also a bitch, but apparently was more like Nanami in the manga); and best yet Touga being the quintessential "Prince in all but actual behavior" by emulating a cutthroat and Machiavellian world view but coming up empty because well, he's just an illusion of a prince...but that leads in way more to the big finale piece where I'll reintroduce the actual story's main trio

Utena Tenjou: Tomboy Prince with brain empty except for lesbian thoughts. Honestly probably what every western "STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN" archetype wishes they were since while having very tomboyish personality in athletics, blunt speaking and also VERY oblivious to the actual plot for REAL DRAMATIC IRONY, but also never actually demeaning her being feminine partially due to her love of an childhood prince and how she maintains her relationship with both her friend Wakaba and later Anthy. Honestly mostly a plot device after S1 until she gets ACTUAL development by the very end and instead kinda bumbles her way into undoing the entire REVOLUTION OF THE WORLD. I kinda wish she felt either more cognizant or at least felt like she was developing/properly rebuking the rest of the cast's power obsessions but I guess that's for the movie.

Anthy Himemiya: Actual Trophy Wife with a dark secret (darker than ski- wait no that's terrible scratch that). Set-up very much as an immediate princess in distress while also being the most femme Yamato Nadeshiko, Anthy being the Rose Bride as a literal prize who acts and behaves as whom she's "engaged" with desires while otherwise being quiet, wry, mysterious and noticably submissive, by the end it actually plays up into THE BIG REVEALS of just how abused she's been into a hopeless acceptance...like y'know actual abuse victims.

Akio Ohtori: Grade A Antagonist, probably the most insidious I've seen a villain in a while, Akio is notable for, back in 1997, being perhaps the big go-to of actual deconstructing the facade of a whole shoujo genre's "hots for a teacher/sexy man putting the moves" and highlighting how actually exploitative and abusive a person like that really is. Being Himemiya's brother (somewhat justified in the manga by both being a weird Sailor Moon-esque reincarnation of gods/godesses of Dios), despite how much of his motives are runing the background and how the entire back story is  uh...brought up in like barely in the last arc with little lead up (some scenes feel like they'd be a full melodrama season and they just have like 1 scene in the final arc episodes) he manages to one-up Touga (in the plot as well) by instead of "just" objectifying girls, not-just-flat out saying Utena looks best as a princess, but y'know the fact that he is implicitly yet constantly exploiting and victim-blaming Anthy for her own suffering for "the power of Dios/Revolution of the world" turns it on its head

I've spent all this time on characters but in truth a lot of the meat of the show relies again on the Council Members fleshing out the issues of system leading to outright divorcing "being a Prince" (heroic altruistic virtues) and "being a man" (considering like all but maybe the comedic relief have some deliberately misogynistic behavior) and beyond just the plot (or rather character) synopsis, the talent goes far more in how it's framed, the symbolic/allegorical shots, the repetition adding a good episode formula flow to character showcases, probably the most "tasteful" allusion to uh...*ahem* sexual abuse that so many other edgier/prentious shows fumble. Both in how intimidating yet understated it's foreshadowing is until they hard-reveal it despite never explicitly naming it even tho it sends Nanami into hysterics

Really it's both a massive blessing and reason for it's cult beloved status for it's aesthetics but also it's burden, for being a full 39 episodic season by season character development study of everyone BUT the main trio except for snippets and the very end that makes it greatly appreciable as a legitimate work of art.

What I wanted more to say however (long overdue) is that a large part of following is, visibly at least, western feminist critiques and yes while it almost seems like Utena fits the "deconstructing patriarchy" story like a glove...it's weird how almost none of them actually can give a good historical account of actual Japanese female/gender/sexuality norms nor Anime contemporaries actually were. Like Tenchi Muyo and Berserk came out the same year (Cardcaptor Sakura the next) and despite how you can "feel" the influence in lots of modern shows like SHAFT's signature visual imagery cuts or many WESETERN shows having straight scene references to Utena....almost no one has a similar feel to Utena until like Princess Tutu comes out.

Really tho probably should've watched Utena and then Tutu because while it's undeniable that Utena is a major pillar of shoujo re-codification - what with everyone before Utena was saying they thought it'd be like a Rose of Versaille or Lady Knight rip-off...whose laughing now? - it's almost like there's a missing link between it and it's major western fanbase (probably with what few anime did get overseas, this one probably rose to the top), or how very noticeable there IS an influence on it's genre in Japan

Almost none of the big analyst fans actually know A) it's not "a deconstruction of Magical Girls" since despite Ikuhara working on Sailor Moon just before this, almost none of the tropes line up and instead more with Shoujo genre as a whole. or  one of the major inspirations was Takarazuka theater.

And this is not to dismiss how inspirational it is to it's western fandom, but while I am notably cynical towards placing things on pedestals, there's probably something about cultivating the whole pop-culture feminist reading commune with people making weird time-loop theories while kinda most of it is just filling in a mad-lib mostly thanks to Ikuhara just keeping things on the vague and letting the audience take away their own perspective.

Again, most of the show is completely sub-textual or visually/symbolically depicted and never stated nor properly defines it's weird key words (End of the World, Revolutionize the World, Power of Dios, Rose Bride, all things said constantly but never really said what they "mean". But that's also perhaps its charm, in it's allegory and very Death of the Author approach, it has definitely allowed it's fan theorizing and appreciation to flourish so there's something there for that.

Ultimately I'd say Utena the TV series is great more so for what it isn't...or rather I should say it's great for not just subverting Shoujo tropes and archetypes for the Japanese audience but also that despite dealing with some very serious and heavy subjects in obtuse and perhaps understated ways for the time, people have allowed it to be put on it's pedestal because they can easily fit it in themselves.

Honestly though, not that a more "straight forward" approach wouldn't detract from Utena but I will say that the movie, Adolescence of Utena, is very much the best encapsulation of what Utena strives to be (for another big blog post) and while the TV series has plenty of time and flexes it's directorial muscles with budget constraints and season pacing UNrestrained, the movie will trim a lot of the fat

[amlovelies]

Late but can I have 🍅 for Curtis 🍊 for Romi and 🏀 for Aiden and your sidesteps?

I am answering this very late because my brain has decided to go on vacation. sorry 😔

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

he used to be embarrassed more easily. ortega and themmy were both very good at it. he would get flushed and flustered due to ortega's flirting and then themmy's teasing about said flirting. lot harder to pull off now (but if anyone could it's ortega). the most embarrassed he's probably ever been would be when he found that magazine after being recaptured by the farm. it really setting in that he'd been there mooning over ortega, in love with him, and then he just moved on like it was nothing. left him to rot. He won't let his feelings get the better of him like that anymore and vows to always have the upper hand.

🍊 Does your OC have any triggers? Why do these things trigger them? What are they like when triggered and how do they calm down after?

Romi is pretty touch adverse, so someone suddenly touching or grabbing her is a big big trigger for her. when danny picks her up to ask her to help him train she actually panics so hard she faints. medical stuff, surgery, cutting into skin are also major triggers. any sort of situation where she is restrained and powerless. these can all be traced back to her experiences at the farm. she has two methods of working through it. the first one is to get somewhere safe, to lock herself away, get some sweets and try and let it pass. the other is a bit more violent. to put on her armor. to go find someone to fight. to prove she isn't powerless anymore. to move all that frantic energy through her body. to have the tangible proof of an enemies blood on her knuckles, the certainty that she wont let them touch her again.

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Aiden is musical! He can play the platius verions of the guitar (don't know if it would actually be different but yeah) He didn't do it as often as he'd like, there were so many other duties which took precedence but it was a nice form of stress relief. He hasn't played since his exile.

Cyn can sew. it started as a necessity. a need to hem and tailor her clothing to accommodate her petite frame. but it became something she enjoyed a lot. the ability to customize her wardrobe gave her a lot more freedom given the constraints of the tattoos. she had a denim jacket that she'd sewn a lot of patches on and even a little bit of embroidery (it's just a coincidence that heart on her wrist is the same shade of blue as ortega's suit). preheartbreak she was messing around with a lot of different patterns and colors but the stuff she wears now is a lot more subdued. no more floral dresses.

vesper is a bit of a card shark. had a lot to do with cheating and using their telepathy which is why ortega was the only one who could beat them consistently.

Curtis has a good singing voice, and maybe in another life would have had a lot of fun as a band front man.

Romi used to sometimes help tia elena bake, and that is a hobby she would greatly enjoy if she felt confident enough to try it on her own. it feels too connected to that past version of herself now, like it would make her too soft and vulnerable. her main hobbies now are going over security at her base and apartment, gathering intel and checking for any rumors that the farm has found her.

James would enjoy scultping/ceramics if he let himself try it. but it feels stupid to even try and indulge that. instead his main hobby is staring at his stolen artwork and drinking. back in the sidestep days he used to do a lot more people watching, would visit the local musems and galleries as often as he could.

another ask game

[imaginariaextraordinaire]

Episode 8 is one hella packed episode and it is an absolute joy to unpack it, beginning with this:

Clever, clever idea to have Ji-Woo repeat the line that Mi-Joo just said to indicate Ji-Woo is taking charge of things as far as Assemblyman Ki is concerned. It's also a good reminder of how tone and intent can change the meaning of a sentence even if the words are exactly the same (which is why we need good translators).

Seeing Mi-Joo stride across the screen with Seon-Gyeom behind her, it struck me that we've seen a variation of this many times before, beginning with the credit titles. While Seon-Gyeom is the sprinter, the one we see constantly trying to up the pace and charge ahead is Mi-Joo. She's always intent on moving ahead faster — perhaps to outrun the past that she finally makes peace with during the marathon? — while Seon-Gyeom moves at a slower pace, disentangling himself from the constraints of his troubled past and troubling father. The only one time we see him race ahead (in episode 2), we also see him come back and slow down.

What I particularly love about Park Shi-Hyun's writing is that in addition to all the layers and complexity she's written into the scenes and characters, she's also written a very, very funny show.

Both Shin Se-Kyung and Kang Tae-Oh do such a fantastic job with both the physical humour (without being over-the-top) and the timing that's needed to play up the wit in the dialogues. Not that Siwan and Soo-Young do a bad job — the scene in which Dan-Ah proposes to Seon-Gyeom is hilarious. My favourite is still May, who is very funny throughout this episode (the shot in which we learn she sleeps with her eyes open! GOLD).

The transitions in this episode are so well written. The insights from one scene ricochet off the next. For example, Dan-Ah in the scene at the bar — where she tells the bartender she can't risk keeping the book in her own study because she can't risk people guessing she has anxieties — gives us a look at the problems of the privileged. This is followed by a scene in which Yeong-Hwa and Mi-Joo discuss student debts, which is a relatable middle-class problem. This in turn is followed by Tae-Woong saying that he takes selfies because he's addicted to the validation he gets from the likes each of those photos gets him — a Gen Z problem. And so it is that we get a spectrum of problems that people face and hide behind performative façades.

The likes that Tae-Woong talks about pop up with manic frenzy at the end of the heartbreaking scene with Dan-Ah in the parking lot, presenting the viewer with a terrible contrast — driving away from him is the love and acceptance that he yearns for from a sister who (he hopes) knows him. All he has to hold on to is the superficial attention of the love professed by a fandom that doesn't really know him at all. Soo-Young's performance is fantastic in this scene, especially when she asks in a voice tinged with desperation why Tae-Woong keeps coming back to her despite her treating him so badly. For the first time, you realise how much it takes out of her to lash out at this desperately-sad boy. "It takes effort to hate someone," Tae-Woong tells her. My heart!

Another fantastic set of transitions comes later on in the episode, when Mi-Joo and May are unwinding at the end of a long day at the film shoot.

This is such a great example of writing inter-generational female friendships. When May remembers not being paid for working overtime, it's an acknowledgement that things are better for working women (especially in film) than it was before, but as Mi-Joo's experiences show, there's still a lot to be done because women are still driven by a certain insecurity and anxiety to push themselves way too hard (as we see a sick Mi-Joo do later in the episode).

Of course a man tries to break this gathering up — because he wants to go to bed. Superb excuse, particularly because these women are talking how much they have to work — and it is deeply satisfying to watch all three of them shut him down and establish their right to unwind.

This scene of female friendship is followed by one that shows the friendship between the three runners. Then we get to see a fight scene full of male actors. The machismo of that performance is a sharp contrast to the awkward tenderness of Woo-Sik and Yeong-Il's conversation.

While on the subject of toxic masculinity, this is the episode in which we find out Dan-Ah's father forged Myeong-Min's birth certificate to make him legally older than Dan-Ah even though he's actually 10 months younger than her. All to ensure he has a male heir. It's a nice detail that Myeong-Min's mother is the one laying out the memorial service for Dan-Ah's mother because it hints at a sense of solidarity.

Also dismantling traditional notions of masculinity is Seon-Gyeom, whom we see at his most domestic as he cooks and packs meals for May and Mi-Joo, and does chores around the house once they're gone. It's very much an inversion of the standard male-female gender roles with the woman going out to work and the man as the homemaker. To underscore this point, we see Seon-Gyeom consider the leopard-print shirt (that May and Mi-Joo hang to give strangers the impression they've got an alpha in the house) for a second before putting it away.

Speaking of alphas, Mi-Joo's really got a thing for wild cats. In addition to that shirt, her blanket is also a leopard-print and when we see her calling Seon-Gyeom, she's standing in front of a painting of a tiger. All these seem to be digs at her posturing that she's strong and invulnerable and I burst out laughing when Seon-Gyeom folds the leopard-print blanket while muttering, "I'd have guessed this is hers even if she hadn't told me."

As disinterested as Seon-Gyeom may be in films, they play a big role in sustaining him emotionally. In this episode, it's the film set that helps Mi-Joo and him come together after their stupid disagreement. Equally importantly, the film set is where he gets the time and space to reconnect with his mother.

Run On has so much fun being meta with the film bits. The film shoot within a drama is indeed an old fake.

There are two film sets we see in this episode — one with Ji-Woo and the other with Mi-Joo. While Ji-Woo's set feels relaxed, the one Mi-Joo's working in is chaotic and taxing. The two women are also at different ends of the professional spectrum. Ji-Woo is a star while Mi-Joo is not just working behind the scenes, but she's come to fill in for the person who was the juniormost member of the crew.

When pointing out the main players of their film crew to Mi-Joo and May, Hui-Jin describes the cinematographer as "a bit racist, but still a gentleman". (Mi-Joo's response is superb: "Weird.") It's an interesting choice to make the cinematographer racist because that's the crew member who decides how subjects and scenes will be framed. "Racist but a gentleman" feels like a precise summary of the orientalist perspective which (aside from being overwhelmingly masculine) shows the East through stereotypes that are often superficially beautiful, but also reductive and damaging. Not surprisingly, this cinematographer is the reason Mi-Joo flounders while translating on set.

The film set is also the first time that Seon-Gyeom sees Mi-Joo's vulnerable side when she falls ill. It's such a clever choice to have Mi-Joo stop performing in a setting that's all about performances. Not only does Mi-Joo give up the alpha act when she's sick, she admits to Seon-Gyeom that when she's feeling helpless, her instinct is to resort to a performative lie — calling out for mom because that's what she saw other kids do as a child in a sick ward (imagine how isolated and neglected she must have felt to do this. Also, she's felt this way so many times that this performance has become second nature to her).

The anecdote suggests Mi-Joo's mulish championing of her self has its roots in past incidents when she tried to fit and either failed or was rejected. And yet, for all her strength and confidence, she's chasing phantoms and has been doing so since she was a little girl. All because she was alone and didn't have anyone she could reach out to for help. Which is why what Seon-Gyeom tells her at the end of the episode is so relevant. He helps her to reorient.

To which Mi-Joo, bless her leopard-print-loving heart, responds with

But my favourite part of this episode is the conversation that Ji-Woo has with Seon-Gyeom when he visits her set. First of all, Ji-Woo is playing a "vegan murderer", which is brilliant as ideas go and it's adorable how delighted she is about her violent roles.

I love how Run On doesn't punish Ji-Woo for sacrificing her family life for her work. Instead, it holds out the possibility that it is ok if you have that imbalance. In this scene, we see Ji-Woo's family reforming at the film set with Eun-Bi sending the coffee truck and Seon-Gyeom showing up just because Ji-Woo asked him to be there.

The mother-son conversation gives us a glimpse of Seon-Gyeom's bleak childhood and we learn that everything Seon-Gyeom did for his father was actually him doing what his mother had asked him to do. It comes as a surprise to Seon-Gyeom that his mother has noticed what he's suffered and that she understands how he'd hoped silently suffering would keep the family together. It's almost as though he's feeling seen for the first time.

Much like Dan-Ah, Ji-Woo may seem self-centred because of her ambitiousness, but she does notice what's happening beyond the obvious, especially when it comes to people she cares about. Both women are up against the worst of patriarchy. Also, I love that when she's talking about motherhood, Ji-Woo is blood-spattered — after all, being a working woman and a mother in a patriarchal is nothing short of fighting a war.

In previous episodes, it seemed as though Ji-Woo was the 'bad' (or at least not ideal) mother while Director Dong was the ideal, modern mother. Yet in comparison to how Director Dong later reacts to her son coming out, you can't help but feel Ji-Woo, with her unconditional support for her kids, might just be the better parent. What is great about Run On though is that that the script doesn't pit the two older women against each other as competing examples of motherhood or femininity. The point is that everyone's struggling, making mistakes and trying to learn from them. Ji-Woo is doing that and so will Director Dong eventually.

Love that the scene ends with Seon-Gyeom effectively declaring himself his mother's son. Take that, patriarchy.

[bettsfic]

This is kinda random but I just felt compelled to ask since I saw this idea floating about. Someone said that not all transformative works are fanfiction (a distinction I can get behind) but then explicitly went on to say characters railing each other is like the distinctive factor which I mean.... Come on. But marinating on the idea I couldn't really pinpoint a distinct qualifier to separate it (medium aside).

So I guess my question is, are all narrative transformative works fanfiction and if not, what is the line between them? And what would you call the "others".

apologies for sitting on this so long. it took me a long time to think about. it’s something i’ve been dwelling on since i first started writing fic, and i think i only now can answer it.

this really comes down to being an issue of genre, and the purpose and function of genre as a craft concept rather than a marketing tool. very often a work’s paratext primes us for what we’re about to engage with. paratext is all the information around a given work. for example, the cover of a book gives you an impression of what’s inside the book. finding a book in the general fiction section of a book store gives you a different impression of a text than what you would find in the cookbook aisle. all of these paratextual details set your expectations for what you’re about to read.

so what happens when you have no paratext? how would you know what genre to place something into? you’d have to use the text itself. but sometimes, the text is not so clear.

for example, one of the first pieces i teach every semester is Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl.” and the first discussion question i ask is, “what genre is this?” (it’s a short piece, and i recommend taking a look at it if you haven’t read it before.)

a lot of writers don’t like the idea of genre because they find it confining, and obviously i agree. art isn’t meant to be boxed in, and if a piece can securely fit anywhere, it probably isn’t very good or interesting.

however, if we consider genre as a lens instead of a box, we get a far more useful tool for inspecting work.

would you read “Girl” differently if i had told you before you read it that it was a poem? perhaps you would have entered into it with all your existing understanding of poetry. perhaps you would have paid more attention to the way it’s been laid out on the page, and the punctuation, and the order of the words. maybe you would have noticed it doesn’t look like the common understanding of a poem, so maybe you would have wondered, is it really a poem?

and if i told you it was a fictional story? maybe you would have entered into it with your understanding of a story. you would have paid attention to the characters and conflict. but, like a poem, it doesn’t exactly fit our common understanding of a story, either. there’s no inciting incident or rising action or climax. we’re not in a concrete time or space. and maybe you would have wondered, is it really a story?

“Girl” is actually a lyric essay. how would you have read it if you knew that? if you had never read a lyric essay, or didn’t know what a lyric essay was, this piece would then define that genre for you, and you would read future lyric essays thinking back to “Girl” and framing your impression from there.

this, of course, begs the question: what happens to our reading experience when we enter into works with an existing impression of what they are, and therefore what they should be?

we all engage with art bringing with us all our existing perspectives and preferences, and those shape our perspective of quality. some people believe that all melodrama is bad. by “melodrama” i mean, conflicts and emotional reactions that are over the top. however there are many genres that employ melodrama as a function of that genre. if you watched a soap opera without melodrama, for example, you’d think it was a pretty shitty soap opera. 

this brings me to the idea of genre not as a categorizing device, but a means of affordance and constraint. melodrama is an affordance of a soap opera. soap operas are allowed to be melodramatic. length, by contrast, is a constraint of a soap opera. a soap opera is not allowed to be over X minutes long.

when we bring affordance/constraints to fanfiction, i think we can all agree that explicit sexual content is an affordance. it’s not the definition of fanfic, but it is something that is both common and in some cases expected. when we talk about fanfiction as a genre of idealizing and indulgence, we’re talking about the affordances of fanfic. yes, many fics concern themselves with emotional catharsis, but not all of them. many fics contain shipping, but not all of them. many fics employ tropes, but not all of them. many fics are written by hobbyist writers working in fan communities, but not all of them. and yet all of these things are so common that when we enter into a fic, they’re expected. they’re allowed. but they are not necessary in order for a piece of writing to exist in the genre of fic.

conversely, fanfic has very few constraints. in fact this is the question that took me so long to answer this ask. and i realized, the single constraint i could think of is that fanfiction always knows and acknowledges (in the paratext) that it is fanfiction.

if you file off the serial numbers? not fanfiction. if you write a creative response to an existing canon but then publish it without acknowledgement of that canon? also not fanfiction. if you get inspiration from another work and acknowledge or cite that work somewhere in the text, but are not actively transforming the canon text or naming it as fanfiction? not fanfiction. 

these types of works may have the community spirit of fanfiction, and the work they do may overlap with fanfiction, and they may begin as fanfiction, but they are not and cannot be fanfiction.

when you write fanfiction, you always know it is fanfiction, because fanfiction is something that happens with intention. you might start writing a story that you intend to be fantasy but after 40k you go “oh damn this is actually horror.” but you can never get 40k into a story and go “oh fuck this is accidentally fanfic.” (although you may think, “this shares many affordances of fanfiction” which, go you.) 

so finally, after actual years of thinking about this, i have a definition of the genre of fanfiction:

to write fanfiction is to openly and intentionally respond to an existing text, and to acknowledge the original source material in the paratext of the work. 

[the-darklings]

coa one year later & self-reflection

(*drags out a creaky metal chair and plops down on it heavily*)

Hi. It’s me, ya boi skinny--

Wait, wrong one. Do over.

Hi, it’s me, Kat, and I’m not dead. Clearly. Today being one year anniversary of COA has kinda put me in a reflective mood, so I guess I decided to sit down and just...talk about some things, thoughts and feelings I’ve been bottling inside for a hot sec. Especially given how radio silent I have gone on here and people deserve a bit of perspective. 

And before anyone starts worrying, it’s all good, and I’m still around and currently in good health for the most part. 

So, let’s take it back to the start. Regardless of how dramatic it may sound, we need to go back a year for that. 

By technicality alone, COA actually turned one year old on October 12th. That’s when the first part was posted. However, the reason I’m treating today as the aforementioned birthday is simple: I had no intention of this story ever being more than a short two-parter. I told this to the discord gang already but COA was only going to have two parts. V was going to die in Tokyo and the rest of the story follows glimpses of John throughout the movies and it’s her ghost that haunts him. Skipping ahead, it was going to have a bittersweet ending of John eventually dying, having completed his task, only to be greeted by V, Daisy and Helen in the afterlife. A peace of sorts. Then, I realised that, well, no. I have more to say on this world and intrigue about this placeholder character V kept growing. 

November 1st happened and I made a very last minute call to continue COA but with the added pressure of doing it during NaNoWriMo 2019. And boy did I. Most of the story was figured out during that very intense month. I posted Part 2 on this day a year ago because I was so eager to share it. Perhaps, in retrospect, a bit too eager. 

For those of you who may not know this, I work as a writer full time for my actual every day job. I’m the main writer for an original webcomic called In the Bleak Midwinter on Webtoon.com and have been for almost two years now. Getting what is essentially your dream job is amazing. I’m very lucky on that front but it also taught me stark realities of having your job and only hobby overlap. It’s a dangerous creative mix. Especially because I was not used to being constraint in what I create or the feeling like I have to please anyone else. Writing as a job is a whole other avenue of creative exhaustion. I love my job a lot and am very, very lucky to have it but it doesn’t change the fact that those initial stages made me fall back on COA a lot for creative freedom that I craved so desperately. To an unhealthy degree looking back on it now. 

But going back to November last year. NaNo time. I did it. Finished on the 24/25th I believe. A juicy final count of 52k+. All while maintaining a weekly update schedule for a fic that usually hit around 10k per update, if not more, even during those early days. Add writing an original story on top of that. Writing every day for hours on end (we are talking 10-12hr days) without any time for other hobbies or time for myself in general. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Losing weight and sleep in the process. I think the thing that convinced me that I should continue doing so is the fact that the outpour of support for COA ended up surpassing anything I ever expected or even dared to hope for. I’m not a huge numbers person but the outpour of love and just sheer investment in the story and characters blew me away. John Wick fandom is on the smaller side and has been going through downtime when I posted COA so my expectations were...well, small tbh. I like keeping expectations low to avoid any disappointments in general. But I’ve also always had an issue of being a massive 0 or 100 kind of person. If I love something, it consumes me. In this case, it brought me as much joy and freedom as much as it was steadily pushing me towards the ultimate crash. 

That being said, I can’t thank you all enough for every comment, like, reblog and message and fanart. You’re the reason I got this far. With your support. It brightened some really dark days for me.

But. 

To be frank, it’s never been about you guys. I never wrote or pushed because I felt like I had to appease anyone. That creative mindset is pure poison and I long since learned to let go of it. I kept pushing and kept working myself to the bone because I liked it. I liked how reading peoples’ responses made me feel. I liked the addictive nature of reading all the comments and theories after an update. I loved the idea of brightening peoples’ days and giving them something to cheer them up after what might have been a shitty day. Even if that was at expense of my own time/well being. But for a long time, it wasn’t. I love writing a lot but facts remain facts. 

It was beyond unhealthy and burnout wasn’t a question of if but when and that when was approaching at neck-breaking speed. 

So we come to the end of November. Part 4 has just come out. People were invested and I was invested alongside them. I was just finishing up Part 5 which (back then) was the biggest single chapter I’ve ever written and god I still recall my sheer dread because that was the beginning of Santino being established as a LI. Looking back on that now, it’s downright hilarious how worried I was about the reception of him and V together after John.

So honestly, I hit burnout at around Part 8. Because that’s the first time I recall struggling with writing a chapter. Part 8 came out on December 28th. I had a brief break for holidays. But my mistake was not taking longer back then. Because I continued writing with a barely healed burnout. Followed by almost a year of struggling and continuously creating through that state. It wasn’t like I eased off the pressure, either. Oh, no. The chapters grew in size, the world and the characters with it. AUs amassed quickly and while I adore every single one - again, I didn’t know how to pace myself well enough.

I’m spiteful though. The more the chapters struggled the more I pushed against the burnout. By the time Chicago arrived, however, I knew I was in trouble. I ended up writing 43k+ in a span of 2 months, I believe. And while to some it may not seem like a lot given the time frame, it’s a lot when you’re burnout to a crisp & writing an original story for work + deadlines. Which I was burned out and then some. Chicago was something I was looking forward to writing for months. I have built it up since Part 4. It was a long time coming. So while I’m still proud of it, I would be lying if I said that some scenes were not sacrificed for the sake of keeping to my invisible schedule that no one but me actually cared about. You guys have always been patient. I never felt pushed into anything. It’s always only ever been me doing the harm. 

Chicago was the downwards spiral for me mentally. I felt like I was failing to live up to my own expectations. That people were drifting away from it. I was plagued by the thought that the story I poured so much into was falling apart and growing weaker. Which this has always been an issue with me: I am my own harshest critic. Always have been. In fact, I’m a downright mean little fucker when it comes to just tearing at myself. I know writing is for fun - and it is - but I still like the idea of being proud of my work which only made everything worse despite the love each update received. 

This takes us to the beginning of June. Specifically, June the 2nd. Or, as I like to call it: Kat Makes Another Impulsive Decision but This One Actually Works Out For the Better. On this day, I created the COA Discord server. And damn, I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting when I did ngl. I did it for fun and as an escape more so than anything. But somehow it ended up being the best decision I made in a long while. I know some of you are reading this. So love you lots, dorks. It’s such a privilege to be able to call so many of you my friends even outside of COA now. That little community has given me some of the best memories from this year and helped me to crawl out of my own metaphorical pit I was stuck in. Mentally, I’m doing much better than I did beginning of this summer. Which could be summed up as a constant self-hatred cycle and a feeling of inadequacy. 

That, however, does not mean my burnout magically disappeared. If anything Chapter 17 just put a nail in the coffin so to speak. 2020 has been a shitty year just across the board for obvious reasons I don’t need to go into here but that can only partially be attributed to my mental state. Chapter 17 was...exhaustive. To say the least. But I was determined to stick with my vision and not split it up. I was also starting to be a bit more forgiving towards myself in terms of how long I may take to write it thanks to guys on discord though the feeling of failure and worry never quite faded fully. I’m proud of Part 17. Truly. But that was also when I hit rock bottom creatively on COA. It drained me completely. 

I tried writing Part 18 for weeks after, day in and day out, not getting past the first scene and hating every word I wrote. So I took a deep breath and stopped. Figured I let it marinate and wait instead of trying to piece one of the most crucial chapters in this story like some Frankenstein monster two sentences at the time.

So my solution was simple: give myself some distance from it and write other things. Get my spark back. Of course that’s always a good idea. Having multiple creative escapes is the best thing you can do for yourself creatively. There was just one tiny little problem. 

I was still burned out. Still am. The problem went deeper than just being burned out over COA. I was burned out over writing itself. 

Which is an issue for a person who only has writing as a creative outlet.

I don’t have any other way to express myself. So I was stuck in a runt, trying to write because it’s the only thing that makes me genuinely happy even when I really shouldn’t have. And let me tell you. It’s a shitty fucking feeling. My burnout worsened. I had a thousand ideas but every time I tried to get them down it felt forced, fragmented, and weak. Repetitive and dry. Now, this is also in part because English isn’t my native language, so my vocab is limited as a result, but I hit that sweet rock bottom in that regard, too. 

So, I worked on V (but in her OC form Clara), Lucien and The Elites. All those characters have grown so much since you last read about them. I have multiple original projects planned down the line that will feature all of them existing in their own world, with their own stories and no longer constrained by JW canon.  

Which, finally, takes us to the end of October and beginning of November 2020. 

I was convinced that the best course of action was to do NaNo again but with an original story this time (involving V). Suffice to say, it took a grand total of maybe 5-6 days and hating every second of writing it while also feeling like this project I’m so passionate and excited to write (still am) is just...going down the toilet to be blunt, to realise I may have made the wrong call. 

Still, the stubborn ass that I am, I pushed through. Convinced I can get into it if I just keep going. The realizations that I am sharing with you right now won’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for a rather curious turn of events about a week and a half ago.

I recently bought a gaming laptop, all in preparation for Cyberpunk 2077 dropping ofc. But, in the meantime, I kept recommending a game to a friend on the COA server. That game? Far Cry 5. (It’s a blast to play btw, just a side note.) And playing it brought back all the feelings of nostalgia from the days when I used to write for that fandom. So I revisited some old work. Checked the stuff I never published and that has been sitting ducks in my docs for months and hoo boy. Let me tell you it was a vibe check of the worst kind. 

The stark difference in the prose and the ease with which it flowed was...startling. It made me remember why I love writing so much and how proud I used to be of what I wrote back in the day. Which is not to say I’m not proud now, but it was just such a sharp dip in quality it was impossible to ignore.  

So I didn’t.  

I paused NaNo, moving it to another month. I paused writing for everything but work, which with our season coming to an end I will also get a rest from soon, too. I kinda paused in general. For the first time in a while, I finally forced myself to switch off. Rest. 

The reason why I haven’t been on here is simple: guilt and not having energy to be on here. I like making my blog a safe space for everyone. Similar to escape it has become for me. I couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt obliged to perform and being here became exhausting. I haven’t been checking my inbox. Haven’t done much of anything except occasionally dropping by and reblogging a random post so people know I’m alive.

And that’s that, folks. That’s where I am currently. Resting. Completely exhausted mentally but resting. Getting my energy back. 

So where does that leave us, huh? If you read this far, dunno what to tell you. Thanks, I suppose. It’s still odd to think people actually care about my existence sometimes.

I know what you’re likely thinking, too. So does this mean COA is never gonna be finished? What is gonna happen to it? Are you abandoning it?

The answer: no. 17 out of 25 chapters and 250k+ in, I’m too far in not to give it a proper conclusion. Not because I owe it to anyone other than myself. I want this story to be a stepping stone for my future as a writer. I want to prove to myself that I can get this done and finish it. As of right now (as you can no doubt tell with how long it’s been since last update) it’s on a soft hiatus while I rest. This rest? Not sure how long it may last. Right now, my plan is till mid December at which point I will reevaluate. Ideally, I finish the year with an update. But my New Year’s resolution is to finish COA. That timeline has become a little more murky now but, again, ideally it’s within the first quarter of 2021. Will that happen? I don’t know. And I don’t want to make false promises, either. 

All I’m saying is that it will be done. I’m just no longer sure how long, exactly, it may take me to reach that Epilogue. I don’t expect many people to stick around for however long it may take me, but if you do, thank you. Truly. I really and deeply mean that. 

So what’s on the cards for this blog in the meantime? Well, CP77 is coming out in under a month (if it doesn’t get moved again lmao rip) and I expect that to be my soft return to posting my writing on here again. We will see where the muse takes me, if at all. Regardless though, I’m excited. 

One doctorate thesis later, here we are at the end of this really long rambling session. I hope that this has given you some perspective on things going on behind the scenes. I spared you some of the gorier details but I think this post has been long overdue. I suppose I, myself, was just too unwilling to face these things despite knowing about them deep down for a while now. I’m too self-critical not to notice but acting on correcting this behavior has been a whole other matter clearly. 

Thank you for reading this post, my writing in general, and supporting me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still around. More is on the way in the future. I’ll be seeing you all real soon. And all my love to all of you. 

Love,

- Kat.   

[etoileholland]

wrapped in red | chapter 1; oh holy night, I’m alone tonight

Tom Holland x reader series

summary; two Christmases ago, while you were working your usual seasonal job at a holiday gift wrapping shop, Tom came rushing in at the last second to have some last minute presents wrapped. As time went on, he quickly became enchanted by you, and was soon wrapped up in your life, and you his. However, things would take a turn for the worst when someone from your past emerges, causing your relationship to unravel. Could it be salvaged, or was this romance destined to live in Christmas past?

this story will contain; fluff, with some angst sprinkled in

warnings for this chapter; none

word count; 3.2k

a/n; here it is! I’m beyond excited for this series to debut, I’ve poured a lot out into this series as a whole so I really hope you enjoy ❤ if you’d like to be tagged in upcoming chapters please let me know!

Christmas: a day that’s usually associated with love, cheer, and magic. A day that’s loved by many people all around the world, a day that brings people together, a day wrapped with hope.

Christmas used to be one of your least favourite holidays, until very recently, that is. For you, Christmas was filled with awkward and tense family dinners, with loneliness, underlying anger, and hopelessness.

Until one unsuspecting Christmas, two years ago.

//Two year ago//

You were working your seasonal job at a gift wrapping shop on Oxford Street. It was a fairly easy job, with little to no stress. That is, except for the occasional client who would complain about the prices. Other than that, it was a pretty nice job. The hours were flexible, and your boss allowed you to do coursework when there were no customers in the shop, which was nice since you were in your second year of university.

Today was Christmas, and just like last Christmas, you were working alone tonight. It was fairly slow today, with only the occasional last minute shopper popping in since everyone was at home celebrating with their loved ones. And since you were the only person who didn’t have a family, you had to work. It’s pretty depressing when you sit and think about it, but it’s true, you didn’t have a family like your boss and coworkers do.

You only had about ten minutes left until closing time, so to pass the time, and to take your mind off the fact that you were completely and utterly alone, you were sitting at your workstation, reading your favourite book. You were so engrossed in your make believe world when you heard the bell above the door ring, signaling that a customer had entered the store.

Sitting up in your seat, you closed your book and pushed it to the side. You looked up to see a boy rush in, a boy that seemed around your age. His cheeks were slightly frostbitten, and there were small snowflakes sprinkled on his hair. He was carrying a tall brown paper bag in one hand, his phone in the other. He knocked the snow off his shoes on the doormat, and when he was finished, swiftly walked over to you. When your eyes met, he gave you a small yet rushed smile. 

“Hi,” he let out an exhale, shaking the rest of the snow off his coat, “Is it too late for me to have a few things wrapped?” He set the bag on the counter carefully. “I just got off a flight back here from Spain and I bought these presents before the flight since it was laid over, but I was in such a rush I forgot to buy wrapping paper and no one else is open to wrap gifts and I’m under a tight time constraint.” He spoke so quickly that he was out of breath, his face turning redder by the second. “Can you please help me?” He looked at you with pleading eyes, and a small quiver in his voice. You could tell that it seemed he was on the verge of tears, “Please?”

Sliding the bag closer to you, so that you could peer inside, you mentally counted how many items needed to be wrapped. There seemed to be around ten things inside the bag, which would take some time, but it could be done. You looked up at the boy, who was looking back at you with pleading eyes.

“Of course I can help you, that’s what I’m here for.” You smiled at the boy, and a smile beamed across his face.

“Really?” He asked, “it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you?”

You shook your head. “No, I promise not at all.” Taking the gifts out of the bag, you carefully laid them all out on the counter. There was something that was wrapped in a leather casing, two matching knitted jumpers, a book of piano sheet music, a cookbook, a small jumper that was either for a small child or a dog, a pair of AirPods, and lastly a vintage camera. He seemed to have good taste in gifts, for each item seemed handpicked, even though he said he was in a rush when he bought them.

“Not to pressure you,” he spoke up quietly, “but about how long do you think it’ll take you to wrap those?”

You pondered his question for a second, taking into account the multiple items he brought in. “So, this may take a little bit of time, maybe about 30 minutes?” You estimated, and judging from his facial expression, he seemed happy with the time frame.

“That’s fantastic, now as long as the London traffic isn’t too bad then I should make it home in plenty of time.”

You quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall, the time being five minutes after five. “By the time I’m done, I think you’ll have just missed the rush hour, so you should be good.”

“Thank you.” He flashed a quick smile at you. “And what time do you close?”

We already did, you thought to yourself. Since you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was keeping you late, you instead said, “at 6, so don’t worry.” You gave him a reassuring, and hopefully, a convincing smile. When he smiled back, you knew that he believed you. Getting out of your chair and pointing to the wall that was lined with various gift wrap, you asked him which colours he would like.

“Red and gold, please.” He pointed to the crimson red colour, and the gold foiled paper. “Those two right there are my favourites.” Tearing off large sheets of paper, and grabbing a few varying sizes to accommodate each gift, you walked back over to your table, laying out the pieces of gift wrap.

“Do you have a preference for which gifts to be wrapped in a certain colour?” You asked, to which he nodded his head no.

Picking a piece at random to wrap first, you grabbed the gift that looked the most intriguing to you. It was a thin leather case, with two things etched into the leather, the word “Omega” and the numbers “007”. The case was heavier than it looked, and by the looks of it, seemed quite expensive. “It’s a watch.” He spoke up, “it’s for my mate Harrison. He loves James Bond, and watches, so when I heard that Omega released a limited edition James Bond collection, I knew I had to buy him one.” He held out his hand, palm faced up. Realising that he wanted you to hand it back to him, you placed it gently in his hands. You watched him open the leather bound case carefully, and you gasped when you saw the watch. It must’ve cost him a fortune, you thought. 

“I picked the watch that was designed after the one that James Bond wore in ‘No Time to Die’, since Harrison pointed out how cool the watch looked when he watched the film.” He closed the case, and handed it back to you so that you could wrap it. “I hope he’ll love it.” The boy added.

“He’ll definitely love it, I don’t see why he wouldn't.” You grabbed a piece of the gold gift wrap, and placed the gift on top of it. “The gold will go best with this, and it’ll also go with the theme, you know, like maybe an homage to the film ‘Goldfinger’.” As you wrapped the gift, you saw that Tom was watching your movements. He almost seemed entranced watching you wrap the gift up, his eyes wide. Even though your reference wasn’t totally correct, he half smiled anyway.

“I just realised, I completely forgot to get your name.” He looked up at your face, his brown eyes meeting yours. “I’m Tom.”

“Y/N.” You answered, giving him a small smile before resuming wrapping the gift. After a minute, the present was perfectly wrapped.

“Would you like a bow on it?” You asked, and Tom nodded his head yes.

“Yes please,” you reached underneath your workstation and pulled out a box of assorted ribbons.

“What colour?”

“Red for the gold packages, and gold ribbon for the red packages please.”

“Okay.” You held up a spool of velvet red ribbon, and he nodded his head in approval. You cut off a piece and wrapped it around the present, and finished it off with a bow.

“It’s beautiful, thank you Y/N.”

You looked up at Tom, who was beaming at you. “You’re welcome.”

The next gift you grabbed were the two matching jumpers that were folded loosely. Taking a second to fold them neater, you set them back on the table.

“Could you please wrap them in red paper?” He asked, and you hummed in agreement.

“Those are for my mum and dad, it’s been a tradition for me to buy them matching jumpers each year. It’s a funny story really.” He spoke, letting out a small laugh. “One year, I didn’t know what to get them, and the store I bought them at had a buy one get one free sale, and since that was the only design they had I bought two of them.” He smiled as he spoke, reminiscing about the memory.

As you wrapped the gifts, he told you who each present was for, as if you were familiar with the people he was describing. In a way, you were getting to know who each person was, the people who were near to his heart, without having met them. Hearing these stories made you feel close to Tom, even though you had just met.

“I bought the AirPods for my mate Tuwaine because he always steals mine.”

“Sounds like something my friend would do.” You joked, making him laugh at the comment.

“The cookbook is for my little brother Sam, since he loves to cook.” Tom stated, “He makes a mean shepherd’s pie, you should try it one day.”

You listened to him speak and tell stories of the person’s whose gift you were wrapping. Listening to him talk about his family made you feel less alone about the fact that your family was away this Christmas, only god knows where. You didn’t care though, you haven’t seen them since you were ten anyway.

“Can I try?” He asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was pointing to the red paper that was laying on the table. Pushing the gift wrap towards him, you watched as he wrapped, well more like attempted to wrap a present.

“It’s bloody awful, innut?” He asked, laughing while doing so. To put it nicely, it looked like a five year old did it, but it wasn’t the worst you’ve seen.

“I think it looks cute.” You said, “it’s the thought that counts.”

“You’re too nice.” He placed the present next to the other ones that you had perfectly wrapped. “Thank goodness I’m not the one working here, otherwise people would hate me and would demand a refund.”

“You’re just being too hard on yourself, it looks alright. Although it takes a lot of practice to get this good.” You playfully boasted, ending the sentence with a wink.

“Have you been doing this a long time?” He tilted his head up to look at you, and when his brown eyes met yours, you almost forgot what he has just asked you.

“Um, this is my second year doing this, but last year this location was in a mall, instead of here.”

“Ah, I see.” He answered softly. You were nearly done with wrapping his presents, and although you had just met this boy, you didn’t want this to end. Sure, he was keeping you late, but it’s not like you had somewhere else to be. You were intentionally wrapping the presents just a little bit slower than you usually do, not too much as to keep him later than he wanted to, but just enough to talk to him a little bit longer than you would’ve normally.

“That’s a vintage Polaroid camera.” Tom spoke up, pointing to the only present that was unwrapped. “My little brother Harry, who’s Sam’s twin by the way, loves photography. He’s been going on for ages saying that he wants this exact camera.”

You listened to Tom as you wrapped the box carefully, mentally cherishing the last few minutes you’ll get to spend with Tom.

From the sights of it, Tom was a lot calmer now that he’s spent the hour talking to you. When he first came in, he was beyond flustered, and his gaze was fixed to the clock on the wall. Now, he hasn’t looked at the clock since he first came in, almost as if he doesn’t have anywhere pressing to be.

When you finally finished, it was 5:54pm. As you gently placed the gifts into the brown paper bag that Tom had originally brought the gifts in, you quickly glanced up to see Tom looking back at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Y/N, thank you so much for helping me out. Really, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” He placed his hand on the nape of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “And you finished in the nick of time, right before closing.”

Before you could stop yourself, your brows furrowed in confusion. You had forgot that you told him that you closed at 6 instead of 5, but you didn’t have to say anything, since your look of confusion gave you away.

“Don’t tell me, you were closed when I rushed in here.” He said remorsefully, as his hand played with one of the buttons on his coat. “Why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you late?”

You paused for a second to think of the best way to word what you wanted to say. “Well, I promise it wasn’t a problem. I don’t really have anywhere else to be anyway, and I could see just how badly you needed something good to happen today.” You shuffled over to where your jacket was hanging up, along with your bag. “I really wanted to help you out.”

Tom began to pull out his wallet when he asked, “how much will all this cost? I’m not very good at math, but looking at the prices-”

“It’s free.” You interjected.

“No, it’s not.” You watched as he pulled out a few £20 notes. “Would like 4 of these-”

You waved your hand in front of you. “Consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

“But-”

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You walked past him to close the shop up, closing the blinds and putting all the supplies away. When you finished, you carefully picked up the bag of Tom’s presents and handed it to him.

“You’re an angel, like my Christmas angel.” He stated. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, his pupils slightly dilated. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smiled softly at him. “It was no problem, now you should get going so you can be with your family.” You took a step over to the door, opening it for Tom and you to leave. The snow had let up a little bit, as it was now a small flurry. Tom stepped past you, standing as you locked the door behind you both.

“So,” Tom spoke up, “how are you going to get home?” There was some concern in his voice, and although he didn’t explicitly say it, you knew that he already cared about you.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk home. I live about five minutes away from here.”

He turned his head to look over at you, his eyes searching your face to see if you were joking. When he realised that you were telling the truth, he shook his head. “I can’t let you walk home alone Y/N. It's cold, and dark out, and it’s dangerous for you to walk home alone.”

“I promise I’m fine, I’ve walked home alone from here many a time, it’s really just a short walk.”

“I can’t, not in good conscience at least. I want to walk you home.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom just shook his head. “I want to walk you home, I mean it.”

“I’ll be okay, you need to get home to be with your family tonight. I don’t have anyone to come home to.” When you said it out loud, you realised how depressing it sounded. At least I’ll be able to drink away my sorrows tonight, you thought.

Tom turned his head to look over at you, and then straight ahead. “I don’t feel good about you being alone on Christmas.” He was silent for a second, when suddenly a thought popped into his head. His heart began to race, and even though it was freezing out, his cheeks felt warm. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family tonight?”

You stopped walking, and placed your hand on top of his arm. When you saw his face turn red, you took your hand and placed it in your coat pocket. “Oh, no, no, no. I am not crashing your Christmas dinner.”

He let out a small laugh. “You wouldn’t be crashing it, darling. I invited you, there’s clearly a difference.”

You had to admit that him calling you darling made your heart race, you could get used to him saying that. “But your family won’t be expecting me, and what if your family gets mad because there’s not enough food for another person and-”

“It’ll be fine.” He took his free hand out of his coat pocket and grabbed your hand. “I already called an Uber and from the looks of it, I believe it’s already here.” He pointed to the car that was parked by the curb, the Uber logo visible in the window.

You stopped in your tracks again. “But I don’t know your family, what if you guys are like, I don’t know, murderers?”

Tom snorted out a laugh. “Trust me love, if I was a murderer, I would’ve killed you a long time ago. After all, it was just the two of us alone in the shop for a whole hour.” He was still holding your hand, shifting it so he could lace his fingers with yours. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the car, and when you were close enough, Tom opened the door for you. You buckled in the seatbelt, and a second later Tom was in the car doing the same.

“Merry Christmas Tom.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“Merry Christmas to you too Y/N.” He answered as he reached for your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Maybe this Christmas won’t be as terrible as the others, you thought. Maybe things will be alright, you thought as you looked out the car window.

additional a/n; chapter two will be posted next week on 11/27! 

series taglist + regular taglist: @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @calltothewild​ @finelinesupremacy​ @quaksonhehe​ @geminiparkers​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​  @imperfxctly-me @wunder-13 @weirdowithnobeardo

[huntergatherercreator]

The Takedown | Part Thirteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Some sexual content in this chapter (m/masturbation)

Note: It’s back! I have a new love for mob!tom after taking a break, I’ve missed writing this so much! 

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve

Part 13 - 1,207 words

He watched me silently, jaw ticking as he thought.

“Fine, but I’m in charge. You don’t act until I say so.”

My eyebrows rose as I tried to judge whether he was serious.

“We both know that isn’t an option. We can’t be routine about this, we need to be able to adapt at a moments notice. There’s too many variables now that you’ve all but declared war on him.”

“It’s not war, its retaliation.”

“They’re the same thing,” I sighed. My breath ruffled at the curls dipping over his forehead and I felt the urge to push them away as the silky feeling of his hair registered under my fingers. I gently loosened my hold from the nape of his neck and tugged at the tie bindings until my hands were free. He stiffened when I retracted my arms, hands coming to press against his chest. I could feel his heart beating steadily under my palms through his shirt and it took all my will power not to let my fingers splay wider to get a feel of the skin peeking out.

“If we’re going to do this I need to get dressed.”

He blinked as if only then realising i was towel clad underneath him. He swiftly stood, backing away to the door but didn’t turn. Getting up carefully my eyes went to the underwear on the bed. There was no way I could ever wear it again. I crossed to the dresser instead.

“How do you plan on finding him?” Tom’s voice was a little more even than I was used to and I shot him a look.

He’d propped himself against the door frame, eyes drifting over the bare walls and lack of clutter in the room.

“We’re not doing this right now,” I decided. Despite the show he was putting on I knew he’d sunk into the frame for support more than anything. His dark eyes snapped to mine, body straightening. I yanked out a fresh set of clothes.

“I want to know how you plan to find him. Now.”

“Look at yourself, you’re a mess. I’m not telling you anything until you’ve slept.” I folded my arms over my chest doing my best to meet his darkening stare.

“Don’t pretend like you care,” he scoffed.

“I don’t. I’m not going to babysit you in the middle of surveillance because you’re running on fumes.” I moved to stand before him. “You either sleep, or you stay behind.”

There was a tense second before he turned on his heel and marched into the living room, collecting his gun on the way. I followed him cautiously, making sure he re-holstered.

“I’ll send someone to pick you up later.”

I shook my head. “Just tell me where to meet you, it’ll be safer that way.”

Annoyance flared before he took a breath. “One of my men will meet you near the Tribeca at midnight,” he conceded, then left without a backwards glance.

I made sure to triple lock the door, not that it had done any good to begin with but it made me feel better knowing I’d have a small window of warning next time. I had no doubt that there would be a next time.

Tom’s POV

He left the lights off as he entered the apartment. Gravitating towards the bar he lifted a half finished bottle of single malt. Filling his glass from the night before he realised he was making this a habit. As the whisky warmed his insides trailed by a welcome numbness he didn’t care.

Sitting heavily on the sofa he took another long sip enjoying the way it nursed his aches. The ones she’d given him. A grumble started in his chest as his mind wandered to her. She was a better fighter than he’d been prepared for. She’d let him believe he had the upper hand the whole time. His throat ached as he relived the punch she’d landed. She’d struck with a speed he hadn’t expected. Even when he’d wrestled her to the ground, holding her powerless between his thighs she’d managed to turn it back on him.

Humiliation, a feeling he was getting too acquainted with since meeting her, simmered for a second before the alcohol dulled it. She’d determinedly fought him off in nothing but a towel. As much as he didn’t want to he admired her self preservation.

He felt himself stir as he relived how she’d looked under him. There had been fear in her eyes when he straddled her. But it hadn’t been the kind he’d expected. She’d feared her reaction to him, her body arching against his even when she had him subdued. A small part of him was disappointed he hadn’t broke in ten minutes later. To have a chance to see her in that underwear.

He rubbed a hand over the front of his slacks, trying to picture how she’d have looked on the bed with his fist around her throat. Would she have fought back then? The hitch to her breathing and the soft flush that crept over her cheeks said no. Another sip of whisky as he unbuttoned his trousers, freeing himself from the constraints of his boxers. Caressing himself slowly he let his head fall back against the cool leather of the sofa as he pictured her. Those eyes always so set and determined full blown with lust instead. He already knew she’d like it rough. The way she’d tugged at his hair, so confident and assertive had almost made him lose it. A groan caught in his throat as he pictured her mouth open and eager, lips wet and ready for him. He’d show her who was in charge. Grip tightening he revelled in the daydream. The thought of her moans and whimpers as she worked his length, taking him so deep, so warm and wet…

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he snarled a curse. Grabbing for it he stilled when he didn’t recognise the number. He let it connect without saying anything.

“I heard an interesting rumour today. A little birdie told me you’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation with the locals.” The feminine voice sent a chill through him. He chose his words carefully.

“They put a mark on me. I intend to take out their leader.”

“Intend to? You don’t start a war with the minions and expect the heads to fall,” she berated. His fingers clenched around the phone.

“Getting to him hasn’t been easy. He’s got the upper hand knowing the city as well as he does but my team are close to-”

“I didn’t call for excuses,” she snapped. “You have a week to tie up this crusade you’re on and I want it done quietly.” Her words were charged with a threat she didn’t need to voice.

“I understand, Ma’am.” The line went dead. A weight settled on his chest as dread filled him. He fought the urge to pitch his phone across the room, a frustrated growl sliding between his teeth. Fingers itching to punch something he ran them through his hair. With a humourless laugh he realised his life now lay in the hands of the two women who could break him.

Taglist:

@spideylovin​ @lukesbabylon​ @panicattheeverywherekid​ @keep-bears-wild @unbelievableholland​ @tomholland-mcu @whattheheckparker @stargazerholland @gorillaglue23 @marvelpeters

Part 14!

[traumerei-project]

hi, i finished all the chapters and it was cool, but im so confused abt the timeline >.< could you explain it a bit? and is chapter 4 happens after all the others but its in the past?

Hi Anon! Thank you for playing all four chapters! Chapter 4 does in-fact happen before the previous three. I didn’t want to release everything in chronological order, but--

I’ll slightly summarize each individual chapter. Major spoilers beneath the cut.

Chapter 1: This technically takes place in 1888 [I never specified the location, but my headcanon is that the characters are in Germany]. Noël ends up falling into a ‘time loop’ with Annabelle, which was meant to slightly hint towards the idea of ‘time’ being rather unstable.

He mentions gramophones, the Wizard of Oz, driving licenses, etc.--All of which would have been impossible for him to know of, considering he was ‘locked away’ for fifty years.

Essentially, the entirety of Chapter 1--none of it can be taken at face value. Certain characters he encounters may not quite be as benign or malicious as they first appear--for example, Annabelle and Delia. Noël’s an extremely unreliable narrator. He’s confused and lost and completely out of his element. Also, as he has lived for centuries, a lot of his memories are heavily disjointed.

It is revealed [but not stated outright] in Chapter 3 that Wyvn, the grim reaper, had placed him on trial. 

This chapter is the most ‘recent’ memory he had. 

Chapter 2: It occurs during the height of the witch trials in Europe. 1524 A.D. The story was supposed to progress backwards, so this one [definitely] takes place before Chapter 1.

Noël worked as a freelance ‘exorcist’ prior to stumbling across Procession’s Way. He meets Ilia and the Sauer twins, among other people.

Admittedly, I should have made this more clear, but a small hint as to how things weren’t quite as what they seemed were with the faceless NPC sprites. They were the exact same ones from the previous chapter, which was meant to signify how Noël posessed absolutely no memories of them.

Another reason as to why I had this part be the second chapter was due to Henrietta and Adelaide Sauer. Compare their appearances to Wyvn...rather similar, right?

Chapter 3: This chapter goes right back to where Chapter 1 left off. It is technically in Noël‘s “”””present””””” time. 

It is revealed that he was on trial the entire time. The best way to phrase the previous two chapters were that he was reliving his memories on speedrun.

The reason as to why Noël kept jumping from one timeline to another was to highlight on the pasts of some of the other characters. I had wanted to feature Annabelle, Azelle, Rue, Lila, etc., etc., but due to a lack of time since I was a student at the time [and limitations as I was the only one working on this game], I instead tried to improvise a little.

I only discuss a tiny fraction of every character’s backstory, but I just really wanted to include them [if only slightly].

In the end, Wyvn swings their scythe on Noël. And so--

Chapter 4: I had been waiting years to finally get to this chapter. Not to make excuses, but it ended up becoming more like one giant cutscene. I had to cut out a lot of content as I kept getting sick during development. 

Anyway, this one takes place in 1943. Noël was actually born on December 30, 1930, but due to some very tragic events, he found himself back in time. He was actually wandering around for about ten years prior to the start of Chapter 2.

I’d say more, but I would be getting into more spoiler territory outside of the game.

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

All the way back in 2015, I wanted to make a game that consisted of at least 10 chapters. I learned very quickly such a thing would not be possible for a single-person developer to make within a relatively short time frame.

Instead, I tried condensing some key elements to 4 chapters, but even then--I only ever touched upon about 5% of the complete plot.

As a result, I tried reworking everything and changed how the games would progress. Chapter 4′s ending was already set in stone, but the way as to which the previous chapters would head towards that goal were tweaked. Characters were cut. Backstories and dialogue and many scenes were taken out since the games are very art heavy. 

I figured the easiest way for me to get around drawing so many assets that would only be seen once was to reuse them--for example, the NPC sprites which were repeated within a few chapters. It worked [for me, at least], since they fit into the whole Noël ‘reliving’ his memories throughout all four chapters.

I may not make games anymore, but I still continue work on Träumerei as a series of novels on Amazon. Unlike the games, the storyline within the books are completely linear and will feature a lot of the other characters [such as Azelle, Rue, etc.]. They will also contain stories that I couldn’t include withn the games due to time constraints. For example, two of the chapters in volume 1 center around giant birds who wear masks made from human faces, while others reflect a bit more on rarely seen characters such as Delia.

After this, I plan to work on a [completely unrelated] Webtoon by 2024, but that’s kind of getting off-topic.

Sorry for the essay, but now that the games are all 100% done, I wanted to talk about my game-making process a little bit! Thank you again for taking the time to read all of this, because gosh, I wrote a lot more than I intended. ^^;

[mrsbhandari]

10 pm

a/n: hello!! this idea just popped into my head so I hope you enjoy it! i know i always love me some soft ethan ❤️

words: 2k

warnings: soft smut, nsfw

summary: It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence.

tagging(also i completely lost my tag list when i went mia so i apologize if i forgot to tag you): @anotherbeingsworld @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine

#

It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence. Dalia was supposed to be through with her own shift in half an hour, which meant she would be home in forty-five minutes. He ran through the timeline in his head and decided to wait twenty minutes for dinner, giving him twenty minutes to throw his bag down and take a quick shower to wash off the stress of the day. There was so much incompetent sandwhiched into his shift that he really felt the only way to get rid of it was to wash it all down the drain. 

He was about 75% of the way through dinner when he heard her key in the door, Dalia’s face appearing for a flash just before shutting the door. Whenever she came home to him cooking, she would always say, “Mm! Smells good.”

“Mm! Smells good.” He smiled. “Hello, Chef Ramsey,” she teased, placing her own bag next to his. He smiled even bigger and looked towards her, grin bright as she started to take off her shoes. 

“Hello,” was his simple greeting, more communicated in the single word than most can put in a ten minute speech. She soaked in the underlying layers and walked towards him, finally barefoot. 

“How was work?”

“How is it that so much ineptitude can still exist in someone who went to school for eight years?”

She winced and placed a hand on his cheek. “That bad, huh?” He only hummed his response and leaned into her touch. “Well, I’m going to shower, so I’ll be right out, yeah?” He nodded and watched her go before turning back to the pasta. 

When she returned, he’d made two bowls with a fork sticking out of each. She grabbed the bowl that said DR. RAMSEY across the front while he grabbed the one that said DR. BLAESE, each a Christmas gift from their coworkers that they had since switched after spending so much time at Ethan’s place. He watched her fondly as she hopped up on the counter to eat hers, playfully straightening her back since it made her just an inch taller than him. 

“Haha!” she said, slurping down a forkful of noodles. 

“You’re a real giant,” he deadpanned, gracefully eating his own food in stark contrast to her messy approach. 

“Meanie.” He only offered a sly smile in response, eyeing her bare legs as she kicked them out childishly. He was always amazed at her optimism and how she hadn’t completely broken down at this point in her career after seeing so many horrible things. She always stood tall (but never taller than him) and rolled with the punches, turning them into opportunities at every turn. He must have been staring, because she cocked her head. “Ethan?”

“Hm?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by her concerned gaze, running over his eyes, his nose, his lips, his stubble before returning back to his eyes. 

“Are you alright?”

“No,” he admitted, still feeling weighed down by the day. “But I feel better with you here.” He was trying to be more honest about his feelings lately, unwilling to live through any more misunderstandings or pining that came with him shutting Dalia out; he decided that he would write down every thought that crossed his mind for the rest of his life if he got to see the way her face lit up at his confession, a slight red forming on her cheeks at his unexpected straightforwardness concerning his emotions. She looked away and then back at him almost bashfully, as if she were confronting a boy she had a crush on instead of a man she was dating. 

“Thank you.” Finished, they both placed their bowls in the sink and Ethan wrapped his arm around Dalia’s waist to help her down. She didn’t really need it, but the warmth of his skin on hers was something she couldn’t find within herself to reject. Dalia takes her place in front of the sink to wash, comfortable with Ethan’s elbow brushing hers as he dried each dish she handed off to him. 

It was a routine that never had a set time with their erratic shift schedules, but the overall domesticity of it all still made Dalia’s heart beat faster in her chest. She was sure that she and Ethan were meant to be together, and she had no doubt that she would scream yes to the heavens if he asked her to marry him right then and there, but even without those thoughts swirling in her mind, she knew she was happy. Even if they didn’t get married or have kids or go through the normal path of life, she knew she was happy with coming home to a very sexy and very secretly sweet man cooking her dinner, and she knew she was happy with washing the dishes and flicking water on him to tease him. 

“Hey!” he whined, his deep voice and tone mismatched. She let out a loud laugh and threw her head back, leaving herself vulnerable for his own spritz of water that he showered her with. It evolved into a mini water fight, both lovers giggling like school children on either side of their makeshift war, using washcloths and sponges to increase their damage. Finally, Dalia found a white rag and raised it high, waving it with two fingers. 

“I surrender!” 

Delighted, Ethan yelled victoriously, “The Ramsey Army prevails!” before sweeping her up in his arms, pressing his wet body to her own as he lifted her small frame. Used to the strength he loved to exhibit for her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to keep her steady despite knowing he would never let her fall. “What’s my reward?” 

She knew what he wanted, but she still leaned back and tapped her chin. “Hmm…” Her long hum faltered when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “Seems you’re already taking it.”

“So you’re my reward?”

“Is it suitable?” She took his face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks once before letting him speak. 

“Is it suitable? I believe this is the best reward I’ve ever received in my life.”

“Well, you’ve lived a long time; I wouldn’t go around saying hyperbolic things like that,” she teased, her joke prompting his fingers to dig into her sides. She squirmed and giggled, laughs reverberating in his ears and stored in his mind for later. 

“Keep in mind that this old man is currently carrying you. Effortlessly, I might add.” 

“You’re the one who brought up the ‘o’ word,” Dalia reminded, raising her palms and eyebrows. He quieted her with a soft kiss to her lips, easily moving against her as if he’d been doing it since the beginning of time. Honestly, that’s how he felt with Dalia; with her, time seemed to stretch and fly by at the same time, brought on by her quick wit and his praying for each moment with her to last forever. The kiss melted the tension in his shoulders and cleared his mind, and it quickly turned more and more passionate with each movement of her body against his. 

“I want you, Dalia.”

“I’m yours to take, Ethan.” Each word wasn’t hurried or whispered; they knew they had all the time in the world that night. He hugged her closer without the urgency of a time constraint or the panic of being caught by a coworker. Tonight, it was just Ethan and Dalia together in an apartment, living for each other and stretching each moment ‘til it was a lifetime. He walked them both to the couch and sat heavily on it, relaxing immediately with her in his arms and pressed to him. He briefly pulled away from her and placed two thumbs on her cheeks, rubbing the hill of the bone there. 

“I love you, Dalia.”

She offered a dopey smile that was all teeth, her mind hazy and drunk off his kisses. “I love you, too, Ethan.” 

#

At 11:30 pm, he thrust up into her for the first time of the night but surely not the last. She was tight around him and he moaned at the feeling of how easily she swallowed his cock, her nails digging into his bare shoulders and her breasts perky in front of his face. He took advantage of his position and wrapped his mouth around the pretty bud, holding her bare back when she gasped. 

He had always loved her back; the way her muscles would flex under her warm skin was so hypnotizing. He also was reminded of the many mornings he would wake up to her naked back facing him as she slept next to him, a firm reminder that even though she was turned away, it wasn’t because she was leaving. 

Despite his fascination with the back of her body, he had to say that his favorite side was her front. Her features distort with the pleasure he was giving her; the firm flesh of her breasts in his hands and mouth; the way his cock slid in and out of her like they were made for each other. All of it was a testament to how she was real in his arms and around him and in front of him and everywhere, which is exactly where he wanted her to be. 

He bit a trail of hickeys up the swell of her breast to her throat, biting the places he knew would make her yelp and wail. The moment he placed a thumb wet with his spit onto her clit, she was pushed over the edge with a moan of his name, sounding every bit divine as it reached his ears. 

He looked up at her when she did cum, her eyes rolling back and her mouth wide to let the sounds fall unobstructed. She’d been good about that recently; she never used to be loud until he seemed to make it his personal mission to draw out the most sinful noises with just his fingers or mouth. He enjoyed being the one to collapse her to that state of complete and utter uncaringness of her din, instead being only focused on drawing out her pleasure because it, in turn, prolonged his. 

“Dalia!” he groaned, fingers tightening on her hips as he drove his own up into her. She sat on his cock and ground down when he released into her, keeping him sheathed as he painted her walls white. She was shuddering and trembling with the feeling of being so full of him, resting her head on his shoulder to somehow be even closer than she already was. Her breath was hot on his neck and he clasped his hands behind her, just holding her as they both calmed down from their highs. 

A hand came up to rub at his stubble, nails gently running over the coarse hair that covered the lower half of his face and gave him the rugged look she loved so much. She had teased him endlessly when he cut it after coming back from the Amazon since it had only taken a simple comment from her to get him to shave it down. Despite him swearing up and down that he wasn’t ‘whipped’ for her, they both knew it couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“Want to go to bed?”

“You’re so warm, though.” She shifted on him and he hummed, leaning his head on hers. 

“I can stay inside.”

“We’ll be gross in the morning.” He grabbed her face in his hand and gently turned it to face him. 

“All the more reason to shower together.”

She smiled, the picture slightly deformed because of her cheeks being held. “Dr. Ramsey, you are a genius.”

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, light smut w/ more to come - college!au

wordcount ~ 1.7k

warnings ~ light smut, drinking/partying, mentions of dick?, basically just making out, feat. long hair jk :)))))

a/n ~ this is my first time posting a fic!!! costume idea inspired by @ddaenggtan‘s iconic weeb-ass jk in chasing butterflies lol, and I got the idea to write this in general from wondering what a scenario like @joonbird​‘s literally flawless fic passionfruit would be like from the opposite perspective bc I kept reading it (and rereading it...and rereading it...) and loving the connection but I’m much more like joon in that au than the reader oooop. anyway thank you to all the writers on here whose work i have loved and my friends who have encouraged me and made me bold enough to embrace such a fun new creative outlet xxx u know who u are :’)

next: chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 1 ~ dress up

You never intended to end up at this Halloween party. You didn't even know who to expect to see here, other than your roommate's friend from high school, the host, who had invited y'all as a package deal even though she knew you didn't really do parties. At least not ones like hers, where every bedroom ended up occupied by the end of the night and nearly no one went home alone. Thrilled to break out of your lame group of friends for a taste of flirtation and fun, you tried to relax into the scene but the unspoken expectation of casual sex intimidated you the tiniest bit.

Speaking of casual sex, there was Jungkook.

Used to admiring him from afar in your "14 Films To See Before You Graduate" class, you paused to take in the sight of him in what you supposed was a more natural habitat. Everyone knew Jungkook got girls, thanks to the rumor his first freshman-year hookup had started about his seriously impressive dick. He had a beautiful body too, carefully crafted muscles obvious even beneath his usual baggy black clothes, so as the more intimate rumors spread and various co-signers confirmed every detail from length to curve to (you had always hated this word, but...) girth, getting a piece of all that became a badge of honor among the girls in your grade. You had never really understood how the awkward boy who hid manga under his desk in class could supposedly be such a sex symbol, but you almost felt bad for him. That kind of reputation following you around everywhere couldn't be all fun and games. If anything, though, it had intrigued you even more about the rest of him, all his little weeb quirks and the way he debated your points in the discussion boards like he actually cared. He wasn't exactly studious in general, but he clearly loved film and you enjoyed speaking up in class just to see how he would jump off of your observations. You hadn't really talked to him other than that, but he didn't seem to be talking to anyone else tonight either. From the corner, you let yourself appreciate the way his nervous hands tugged at the skinny black tie of his costume, freeing more of his throat from a thin yellow button-down shirt.

At least you no longer felt overdressed in your Nancy Drew outfit. The retro headband, brown loafers, and bookish plaid knee-length skirt set a much more sophisticated tone than most other ensembles you'd seen, but Jungkook's weeb ass had basically worn a full suit to channel Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. With his grown-out hair tousled and a navy pinstripe jacket cinched tight with two strips of electrical tape over his tiny waist, you couldn't deny that he rocked it. He leaned against a long plastic table left in the hallway, bobbing his head to the music in the next room and adjusting the too-slim suit pants around his thick thighs. His translucent cup stayed hidden behind a hip until he raised it quickly to his face for another sip of...red wine? Probably Franzia, knowing tonight's crowd, but anything was better than beer. You made a beeline for the one boy with taste at this party, your sole mission now to get wine drunk, sneak some Usher throwbacks on this playlist, and drop it low enough to leave some dude hard on the dance floor. #wastehistime2019, yknow.

"Hey!" You got his attention, grabbing the hand with the cup before he could lower it out of view again. His eyes grew comically wide and his mouth formed an "o" in shock before you demanded "Where is the wine?" and he pressed his lips back into a line, stuttering.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just brought a bottle because the beer here sucks but I think it's all gone by now, I tried to hide it but yeah anyway you can have the rest of this one if you want though." Wincing at his own ramble, he ruffled the retro pouf of his hair with one hand and proffered the plastic cup in another. Both actions highlighted how pretty his hands were and you were just slightly tipsy enough to thread your fingers over his in the also-pretty black waves falling over his yep-still-just-as-pretty cheekbones.

"Aw, it's okay, I don't want to take your wine. No more liquid courage for me," you grinned, dotting the lightest kiss on his nose. It was an innocent gesture, but as your face naturally lowered so your noses touched, leaving your lips centimeters away from each other, something snapped—in him.

His wine discarded on the table, a hand curled around to clutch your ass and you practically felt his tongue before you felt his lips. Slamming your body abruptly into his, he nudged a thigh between your legs to grind it up on your center and as your arm got caught between your bodies, the tension you sensed filling his frame gave you pause. You pushed him away gently but firmly with the hand already flattened against his rock-solid abs. Looking down at the slight space restored between y'all, you removed his hands from his hair and your ass and laced them in yours to guide him back against the wall.

"I...what was that?" you almost giggled. You definitely weren't trying to laugh at him, but you couldn't hide your surprise at this first potential proof of his fuckboy reputation.

"I'm—" his whole face crumpled, both from the simple sting of your seeming rejection and the possibility that he had broken a boundary or forced himself on you against your wishes, which made him so sick he could barely face you. Squirming under your light hold but not quite resisting, he rambled again: "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to force myself on you or anything, don't worry I would never try anything if you didn't want to, I just figured we might as well get to the point if you did because, uh...when girls touch me like that or even talk to me at these things it's pretty much always just because they...want to."

"Jungkook," you breathed, pulsing your hands over his in reassurance. He squeezed his eyes shut, still distraught, and when they opened, you had craned your neck to meet his averted gaze.

"I never said I didn't want to."

His eyes widened again. "Uh...uh...then..." he trailed off, never having needed to directly proposition a girl like this before. He really had been inexperienced before the rapid escalation of college, and was at a loss for how to get to the good stuff from here via anything more eloquent than a rushed "Wanna fuck?" You shook your head silently, nose grazing his again, and let go of one hand to cup his face with care, like he was something precious you were scared of breaking.

"What? You want to get right to fucking me?" you murmured into his ear. He shivered at hearing you curse for the first time, freed from the constraints of class discussions and closer than he ever guessed you'd get to him. "Is that really what you want? Or is it what you think I do? Because if it's alright, I think I want something better. For you."

You pressed a new kiss to his nose, only slightly stronger than the one that had started all this. He held his breath and his untouched, open mouth trembled as you scattered soft introductions of your lips across his forehead, to his temples, over the scar that sliced his cheekbone. Finally inhaling a skittery heave of your shared air as you passed closer to his lips, he forced it back out in frustration when you ducked away to nudge under his jaw instead. Returning your hand to his hair, you grinned, enjoying the spike in his pulse under your thumb and skipping the tip of your tongue lightly over his neck right up to the earlobe. You lifted the choppy ends of his waves away from the dangly silver hoop they hid, tensing the strands just slightly between your fingers in an inability to hide your glee. Something told you this was going to drive him crazy.

Taking a slight detour to suck his pierced lobe between your lips, you responded to Jungkook’s low moan of surprise by wedging your tongue through the first oversized hole and letting your teeth clatter over multiple rings of metal. He was trying so hard to stay pliant under you, but the tease of slight pain in a new and unusual spot made him want your mouth more, anywhere he could get it. No one had ever spent this much time tracing so few inches of skin.

And so many girls had buried his face in their necks, craving evidence of an encounter with the Jeon Jungkook, that a strange kind of empathy caught him off guard when you showed him how good it could feel to receive. You connected your lips to the hollow right under his ear, feeling the tendons stretch as his head lolled away from you. Working him through a cascade of light gasps, you stepped away satisfied once you had sucked a dark bloom to the surface. He watched you leave with his mouth agape and chest heaving, unable to believe you could just walk away with a wave and a "See you in class!"

But you did, and he would.

"Shit!" he swore, a shaky hand darting straight to the spot. Now he had to keep his hair long for at least another two or three days. If he showed up to discussion on Monday and had to watch you admiring your work on his skin, he would probably just die on the spot. And that would not be very Spike Spiegel of him.

next chapter

[profoundsheepbarbarian]

A Beginner's Guide To Acoustic Treatment

An account of an acoustic newbie's journey from bare walls to a well‑balanced, sonically pleasant space.

The physics of the propagation of sound is immensely complicated, and when the assortment of materials that make up the walls, floors and ceiling (plus any windows, doors and furniture) are added to the equation, it's very difficult to predict what will happen to sound waves once they've left their source. What's more, every room is different, and it's not just the dimensions that will dictate how the room will sound... Imagine two rooms of the same shape and size. One has two‑metre-thick concrete walls, and the other a single‑layer plasterboard stud-wall. Even with those brief, albeit extreme descriptions, you probably know already that the two rooms will sound very different. Add in the multitude of room shapes, sizes, wall‑construction methods and surfaces found in home studios, and it becomes impossible to provide a one-size-fits-all guide to acoustic panel treatment.

The subject of acoustics is regularly discussed in SOS, but plenty of readers still ask for the subject to be covered from a much more basic starting point. What follows is a look at installing acoustic treatment from a complete beginner's perspective: some basic, essential information, along with a bit of advice from acoustics professionals that should give you the confidence to get started. I'll follow this up by taking you step by step through my own recent experience of treating a room.

Why Bother With Acoustic Treatment?

Untreated rooms have an uneven frequency response, which means that any mixing decisions you make are being based on a sound that is 'coloured', because you can't accurately hear what's being played. In short, you can't possibly tell how your mix will sound when played back anywhere else. It isn't just an issue for mixing, though, because any recordings you make of acoustic instruments will bear all the hallmarks of the space in which you record them. That may be a good thing if the space in question is Ocean Way or SARM West, but probably preposterously bad if it's your living room or bedroom. So, if you want your mixes to transfer well, and your recordings to be free of room 'honk', you need to pay attention to the acoustic properties of your environment — no matter how good the gear you're using.

First Things First

The first thing to grasp is the outcome you want to achieve. It's a common misconception that acoustic treatment with acoustic ceilings or acoustic baffles should kill all reverberation, and that you want a room covered floor‑to‑ceiling with foam tiles: this isn't what you're aiming for. You also need to bear in mind the limitations imposed by space and budget: most home studios are small in comparison with the Abbey Roads and AIR Lyndhursts of this world, and many home‑studio owners simply don't have the funds for bespoke treatment solutions.

So what is the aim? Andy Munro, acoustic design specialist, remarks, "acoustic design is the science that restores a neutral sound balance”. Applying that science means interfering with the path of sound to control the sound energy. Jorge Castro, chief acoustician at Vicoustic, says that "in the case of affordable treatment, we need to control the energy of the sound first. Then we can take care of the sound quality. With small spaces, bass frequencies are always a problem, and we should control the low frequencies as much as we can.” In fact, he continues, "In small rooms, I've never heard people saying they have too much absorption of low frequencies.”

Absorption & Diffusion: What, Where, Why?

To achieve the right balance, there are two main approaches: absorption and diffusion. Products that have absorptive properties include foam and rigid mineral-wool (see the 'DIY & Rockwool' box), and they 'soak up' the sound energy, turning it into heat, through friction. Most effective on high‑frequencies, absorption is essential for reducing flutter echoes and for taming bright‑sounding or 'ringy' rooms. Bass trapping is also a type of absorption, but is specifically designed to absorb low‑frequency energy. A clever combination of soft, hard, thick and thin materials, including air, is used to make the most efficient bass trap, and an empty gap between the wall and the back of the trap helps to make it even more effective.

Diffusion is the scattering of sound energy using multi‑faceted surfaces. Diffusers are commonly made of wood, plastic, or even polystyrene. Jorge Castro explains: "diffusion helps in energy control and improves the sound quality in frequencies throughout the middle and high range of the spectrum, and also improves sweet‑spot image.” The 'sweet spot' is the place between the speakers where you should be sitting to get the best stereo image (imagine that your head and the two speakers form an equilateral triangle). That pretty much concludes the theory: now for the practice!

Getting Started

Before undertaking this project, I'd read plenty about acoustics, but had never attempted to properly treat a room myself: the nearest I'd come was propping foam panels against the walls to tame flutter in the spare‑room‑cum‑studio of my rented house. I hadn't been able to glue or screw anything to the walls, for fear of incurring my landlord's wrath, and the thought of retouching the paintwork after tearing strips of self‑adhesive velcro pained me too! So this was very much a learning experience.

The space in question included an area that would provide a reasonable‑sized live room, and another that would serve as a small control room, and although both were important, I really wanted to get the performance space right. I decided that I'd buy commercially available panels, because I simply didn't have the time, space or inclination for the DIY option. Most manufacturers of acoustic products also offer a consultation service, and they often have free on‑line calculators to help you decide on a suitable treatment option, too, so even if you choose the DIY route this can be a sensible place to start, and fabric acoustic panels are also available.

I chose to get my treatment from Vicoustic, a company relatively new to the UK acoustic‑treatment market who make a range of products for studios and home theatres. I told them that, as this was the only live room for a small project studio, it needed to be quite versatile, with both a 'dead' corner for dry recordings and a more ambient space to liven up acoustic recordings where needed. I'd expected a solution with almost complete wall coverage, foam panels and diffusers covering every square inch, but Vicoustic came back with a plan that surprised me, which suggested that total coverage wasn't necessary.

In fact, Jorge says that the typical home studio needs only between 30 and 40 percent coverage to adequately treat it. So don't go over the top: remember that we're trying to control the energy, or "restore the natural sound balance,” and not to kill the sound completely.

As for the proportion of diffusion to absorption, Jorge says, "some believe it should be 50 percent absorption and 50 percent diffusion. In the home studio, because of budget and space constraints, the actual proportion can vary considerably.”

Planning

So, you've decided on your acoustic foam treatment, you've had it delivered, and it's piled in the middle of the room. The next step is sticking it up on the walls, right? Well yes... but you also want to make sure that it goes in the right place, partly to optimise its acoustic performance, and partly because you don't want it to look like it's been put up by a two‑year old! As a first‑timer, I found it useful to have the 3D drawings Vicoustic had supplied, as they enabled me to plan precisely where each panel would go. You can create a computer‑generated version of your room yourself using a freeware 3D drawing programme such as Google Sketchup (http://sketchup.google.com). This may seem a bit over the top (sketches on the back of an envelope would do the job), but it can provide a useful guide to print out and use like a map during installation. What's more, you can plan the look of a room, moving tiles and panels around on the computer instead of having to rip them off the wall if they look silly.

Measure Twice, Stick Once

With my 'map' in hand, it was time to mark up the walls. The Vicoustic plans showed the panels equally spaced along the walls, but without any dimensions or measurements to indicate how to space the tiles, so I measured the whole room and planned the position of all the panels supplied. A quick and easy formula for plotting the position of a row of equally spaced panels soon emerged. To calculate the distance between each panel, and between the end panels and the walls, you just measure the length of the wall, subtract the total width of all the panels to be fixed to it, then divide that figure by the number of gaps between panels (or by the number of panels plus one). Marking up is then a cinch, but to get things looking good, you'll need to mark the corner points and will require a spirit level and a spare pair of hands. Once plotted and marked, it's also a good idea to double‑check that you have the same number of actual panels as you have on your plan!

Stick 'Em Up!

With the planning done, it's time to stick the panels to the walls and ceiling. The way you do this depends on the type of treatment you're applying. Large, framed panels will come with brackets and (hopefully) sturdy fixings, whereas foam‑based tiles will need to be glued, using an aerosol‑based product or a tube of paste‑like glue that needs a skeleton gun. Spray‑mounting can often give less than satisfactory results, so I was glad to discover that the Vicoustic delivery included the tube variety. With just two tubes supplied, though, I soon had to resort to alternatives, and found that the sticky gunk used to fix mirrors to walls worked exceptionally well.

To prevent the glue squidging out from the sides of the panels, I piped the glue on no less than an inch from the guide line on the wall and on the back of the panel itself, in different patterns, to increase the adhesion. With this kind of glue, I found that it would begin to set in about a minute, allowing just enough time to pull the panel off and turn it if it was the wrong way up. When sticking panels to the ceiling, I took the same approach. It was a textured ceiling, which called for lots of glue and a firm hand to seat the panels: again, it's useful if you can get a friend to lend a hand.

Hearing The Result

Once in place, the Vicoustic treatment worked very well. The main part of the room is now nicely controlled, if a bit on the 'live' side, and the diffusers ensure excellent intelligibility of speech: a sure‑fire sign of good acoustic control. I had a few spare corner traps, which were put into the dry corner, to make it even more 'dead', and it will be easy to add a few smaller foam tiles to dampen the sound further if it's found to be too 'roomy' further down the line.

Having tried some recordings in the room, I'm happy to say that excellent sound barrier can be achieved between acoustic instruments and vocals by using the different areas of the room. Because the sound inside the room is controlled, the ambience can be used to good effect if a roomy sound is desired on the recording.

Ultimate Control

So far, I've only addressed the dedicated live/recording space, and most home studios are single rooms, with both the monitoring and performance areas in the same space, so I asked Andy Munro to explain how to approach treating such a space. "The best approach,” he said, "is to sketch the room out, then divide each dimension into thirds. If the mixing position is on a third ratio, and so are the speakers, they will not stand on any of the half or quarter 'standing' wavelengths that cause a peak or trough in the bass [see the 'Standing Waves' box for more information]. The result will be a smoother sound, with fewer problems when the acoustic absorption and sound barrier is added. Ironically, most professional rooms are set up about the centre line, which tends to result in a 'hole' at certain frequencies.”

Also important in monitoring rooms is the control of early reflections. When a speaker cone is driven, it disperses acoustic energy to the listener's ears directly, and also to the walls and ceiling of the room, and the best example may be acoustic diffuser. Uncontrolled, these early reflections bounce back into the room and reach the listener a few milliseconds later than the direct sounds, because of the additional distance they've had to travel. Unless in a large room, this delay is not perceivable as a different sound; instead it disturbs the phase, and therefore the clarity, of the sound. To keep early reflections on a tight leash, the 'mirror points' of the room should be identified and treated. To do this, sit in the listening position and 'guesstimate' where a mirror would have to be placed to enable you to see each monitor cone from the sweet spot. Then apply absorption to these points. A 'ceiling cloud' can be positioned in a similar way, to control vertical reflections.

Conclusion

No matter how much you spend on instruments, amps, speakers and recording gear, you still need to pay attention to the space in which you use them. The treatment of home studios is tricky, because of their size and the construction materials used, not to mention the budget of the average home‑studio owner. It's impossible to get a 'pro-studio sound' from a space that's built as a spare bedroom, mainly due to the laws of physics, but also because 'proper' studios might have big bucks spent on acoustic design with soundproof materials. But if you can get your head around what you're trying to achieve, you can still make such a space perfectly usable, with only a small amount of money, some forward planning and a little bit of knowledge.

[doopcafe]

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Seasons 1--6), Final Analysis

Well, I made it through. 

Let’s be absolutely clear: The Clone Wars (TCW) is not good television. For the most part, it’s not even watchable television. The show suffers from serious fundamental issues in nearly every aspect of storytelling. Characters are underdeveloped and inconsistent; the dialogue is expository and contradictory; the tone is disjoint and jarring; and most episodes serve no greater purpose than to be a twenty-minute vessel to house lightsaber fights. 

So I want to put this part of the show to rest before I move on to Star Wars: Rebels (and before returning to watch season 7). 

With two exceptions, the show poorly handles twists and reveals. In the earlier seasons, reveals were spoiled mostly due to telegraphing: Captain Sleaze in Cloak of Darkness, Senator Clovis in Senate Spy, and Yolo (?) in Senate Murders come to mind, but there were others. In later seasons, telegraphing was supplanted by “small universe syndrome” as the primary cause of spoiled reveals. In The Academy, a cloaked figure was seen doing shady, back-alley deals, but his identity could only have been the Prime Minister. During the “Ahsoka framed” series, Barriss was obviously the traitor, simply because her character suddenly reappeared after four seasons and there were no other candidates. 

Probably the most successfully executed reveal was that of Krell, as his assholeness was at least initially masked as military rigidity. But even so, it was so over-the-top that when the reveal finally came to light, it felt more like an overdue disclosure than a dramatic twist. It didn’t help that, by that point in the show, the format of “asshole = upcoming reveal” had been firmly entrenched into the show’s DNA. 

I would argue that the most effective plot twist of the entire show was when the dancer/singer girl shot and killed Ziro the Hutt in Hunt for Ziro. Although irrelevant to the greater story, it was an actual twist because it was strongly implied the opposite would happen (i.e., Ziro would betray the girl). If there is to be a second place, that award would go to Ahsoka’s decision to leave the Jedi Order at the conclusion of The Wrong Jedi. But this leads me into my next point...

Who was the main character of The Clone Wars? If we go by the logic that whoever had the most screen time was the main character, then Anakin probably wins over Ahsoka. But if we go by the logic that the most developed character was the “main character,” then this is a show about Ahsoka. Ahsoka---more than any other character---grows in a noticeable way (from impatient, violent child to impatient, slightly less violent teenager). In contrast, Anakin in Rising Malevolence is the same character as Anakin in Voices (only a little more violent and angry for some reason). 

It’s unfortunate that her major character moments were never capitalized on. Intentionally sacrificing herself for the greater good in Weapons Factory apparently led to no lasting repercussions on her character. Her impatience and disobedience led to the deaths of thousands in Storm over Ryloth, but was similarly forgotten immediately afterwards. Even Ahsoka’s major character moment at the end of The Wrong Jedi resulted in her walking away from the show, never to address the implications of that decisions (although I suppose that’s the subject of Season 7). 

On a different note, the show was riddled by a shameful amount of “references” and fan service, for reasons exclusively external to the story. These “nods” ranged from the obvious “Obi-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope” (or whatever Senator Jimmy Smits says in Cat and Mouse) to the innocuous design of a droid or background device. 

These “references” are objectively problematic for at least a few reasons. (1) They contribute to the sense that the universe is a really, really small place. Is the Mos Eisley cantina really the only place in the Outer Rim where shady deals go down? Is carbon freezing really the only way to store a person in stasis for transport? How long do Rodians live for anyways? Greedo’s gotta be what, like 80 when Han shoots him in A New Hope? It’s ironic that ultimately, this incomprehensibly large, diverse galaxy actually feels much smaller after watching this series because we keep going to the same twelve places...

(2) “Fan service” is tricky to get right because different people have different memories and impressions of the source material. In result, copying material will oftentimes comes across as a blatant misunderstanding of the original content. For example, to me, Vader put Solo into carbon freeze because it’s what Lando had lying around. It’s not a galactically established method of transporting people. Obi-Wan trained Luke with those laser balls aboard the Falcon because Han had them lying around and Obi-Wan needed to improvise a training exercise to kill time. 

(3) "References” and “nods” usually are just a band-aid for a lack of creativity. Some of the better episodes in the initial seasons were just direct rehashes of famous movies. Seven Samurai, Godzilla, Stray Dog, The Most Dangerous Game, King Kong... I mean, it’d be pretty impressive to mess-up stories like these, but it’s concerning that there were just so many episodes made from other people’s stories. 

These “references” even seep into the most innocuous of scenes. When Prequel!Wan lands on Mandalore to attempt a rescue of Satine from Darth Maul, one of the Mandalorians takes aim at him, only to have their blaster pushed down by their companion who’s shaking their head. This is a direct reference o the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine when Luke went after R2 in the desert. Even if this scene served an important plot purpose (it didn’t), there’s undoubtedly a multitude of ways to communicate the same thing. Instead, a small reference to the OT is interjected into the show, deimmersing the audience from the events shown. Unfortunately, this is just one (very small) example of hundreds over the whole show. 

Let me say something positive. The episodes that worked best (especially early in the show's run) were ones that focused on mortal people, usually the clones. Innocents of Ryloth was one of the first watchable episodes, simply because we didn't have to sit through twenty minutes of unlikable, unrelatable “Jedi” and instead followed around a pair of troopers helping a little girl using their limited abilities. Likewise, Pursuit of Peace was way more enjoyable than it probably should have been, simply because the story was understandable, the consequences clear, and the drama real. Plan of Dissent (when the clones actively rebel against Krell) was also noteworthy for similar reasons: clones we liked must subdue a “Jedi” we’ve learned to hate. 

This isn’t to say that episodes focused on the major characters were inherently unenjoyable, it’s just that none of these characters had any room to grow (with the exception of Ahsoka). Dooku, Grievous, Anakin, Prequel!Wan... They were the same characters as portrayed in Episode II and III. As presented, there was nowhere for these characters to go. Dooku was literally identical at the beginning of the series as he was at the end, and the same can be said about the others. 

But these are false constraints the writers imposed upon themselves. Grievous was not in Episode II and was introduced in Episode III. TCW could have started him however they wanted and then illustrated his change into the character he later becomes. Who was he? What was his motivation? Why did he hate Jedi so much? The show was handed a completely clean slate to deliver a character from scratch, but instead we were immediately shown “Episode III General Grievous” with zero introduction because fans were expected to already know who he was. 

This is partly why the backstory episode to Grievous was so compelling, at least in premise: viewing his home was personal to his story and it represented a chance to learn a bit more about the character and where he came from. Of course, it was mostly mishandled by a reliance on meaningless action, but the high ratings of that particular episode suggest there was room for quality television here, it just was never capitalized on.

Instead, we have completely static caricatures, especially for minor characters from the movies. Admiral Tarkin, Admiral Ackbar, Greedo (among others) were written out of cardboard and their roles in the plot could have just as easily been played by anyone else (there was nothing unique about their roles that required them to be these characters). 

This is a shame because a lot could have been done with the established premise to really focus on Anakin, his motivations, and his relationship to his Padawan. I would have been okay with a lot of backtracking if it meant I could begin to grasp his “fall” to the Dark Side. Instead, I’m honestly more confused than ever about his motivation.

One argument is that Anakin joins the Dark Side because he like, “loves” Padme (or whatever). However, what we’re shown in this show---consistently, clearly---is that Padme and Anakin have a toxic, dysfunctional relationship. He is uncomfortably jealous and rarely trusts her. They argue nearly every time they’re together. Their “love” (or whatever) must remain secret, equating their relationship to something “wrong” or even “illegal” that must be kept secret, even on the verge of death. In a later episode, Anakin orders Padme to listen to him because he’s the “man” and, as his wife, she doesn’t have a say in the matter. This is clearly a broken relationship and the best result is the one that actually happens: They stop seeing each other. Anakin wants to save this woman from a vision? Why? 

This brings up a second point, which is that Anakin can’t stand the pain of losing someone. His desire to protect those close to him may be Anakin’s only redeeming trait. He has a single selfless scene (in the entire show) during the opening of Jedi Crash where he sacrifices himself to delay an explosion and save his companions. I want to stress that any other scene where Anakin saves or helps someone isn’t done because he’s a good person, it’s done because he’s a broken person. It’s done because he, personally, would struggle with the emotional toll of knowing he allowed someone close to him to be hurt or die. In other words, he’s doing nice things for selfish reasons. 

As far as I’m concerned, Anakin has always been Darth Vader. He is given choices between being a Jedi and allowing a lot of people to die, and he enjoys choosing the second. In Ghosts of Mortis, we’re shown that the threshold between “Anakin” and “Darth Vader” is disconcertingly low, requiring only a few choice words and less than a minute to convert him. In short, what I’ve learned from TCW regarding Anakin Skywalker is that he was an unlikable dick, and his “turn” to the Dark Side was just a long-overdue reveal. 

While the later seasons worked towards the events in Episode III in a way that at least made a bit of sense, earlier seasons were focused on adult-themed wacky hijinks. In a way, the show almost would have worked better as a kid’s show, but this was clearly meant for adults: politics, war, slavery, and lots and lots of horrific violence. In comparison, the silly adventures of Star Wars: Resistance worked well because the show didn’t take itself too seriously. It was very clearly, from the start, a lighthearted show about kids going on fun adventures. In contrast, TCW suffered because its themes were adult in nature, but was portrayed as a Saturday morning cartoon show. The humor was misplaced, the tone disjointed from actual events, and the violence excessive. 

Let me say a few words on the “Jedi.” Initially I labeled them as overpowered (OP), because in earlier episodes they seemed invincible and dissolved tension in every scene. Later, we see a slew of them get cut down as plot fodder, even against widely different situations. We see Luminara and others push through hoards of droids only to see “Jedi” Master Yoda-like dude get taken down by a dog. We watch as Fisto *heh* powers through entire battalions and the cone-head guy counting coup against an army, only to watch as pink girl gets shot in the face by a single clone who stands in front of her for several seconds before pulling the trigger. 

It’s nearly impossible to feel tension in these scenes because the metrics for judging the true strength of a “Jedi” keep shifting as a function of the plot requirements. Anakin suddenly forgets how to use the Force when the plot needs his help to fake some drama. Prequel!Wan pointlessly fist fights with a slaver cat for an hour until the plot needs him to get back up again and OP everyone in the room. Even their ships are only as strong or weak as the plot needs them to be. Plo Koon’s fleet is devastated in seconds in order to portray the Malevolence as being a threat; Anakin’s fleet powers through a larger force three times its size because Anakin’s like, really mad about something. 

Secondly, the “Jedi,” in general, were unlikable assholes. They were consistently portrayed as violent and ignorant and I struggled to understand them as real people. Frequently, we witnessed them torture victims, default to a lightsaber to solve problems, and enjoy death to the point of counting coup against sentient life forms defending their homes. Anakin threatened civilians with his lightsaber. Ahsoka was annoyed when she’s asked not to murder a defenseless creature in Jedi Crash. Prequel!Wan and Anakin team up to hurtle enormous rocks into a beaten monster in Dooku Captured. A trio of Jedi Masters mentally gang bang a shackled Cad Bane. They supported state terrorism when it suited their needs, but agreed to abandon their friends for political reasons. 

I mean, these are not good people...

This is a shame, because my impression of true Jedi comes from Luke, Yoda, and Obi-Wan in the OT, as well as the expanded universe novels that take place afterwards. It always seemed to me that being a Jedi was about conquering oneself, one’s fears, and learning to use the Force to selflessly help others and let go of all worldly attachments. You know, like the Buddhists they were originally inspired by. I always had the impression that the Force was extremely powerful and that Yoda was only showing Luke a portion of what was possible. That the Emperor was only using Force lighting to toy with Luke. That Vader only Force choked his officers because it was visually intimidating and kept them in line. 

Instead, we’re treated to some garbage about how a “Jedi” is nothing greater than an actuator to swing around a lightsaber. When Luke enters Jabba’s palace in Jedi to rescue his friends, it’s not with lightsaber swinging, cutting shit up, flipping around like an acrobatic monkey. Imagine Anakin and Ahsoka in the same scene. They’d blaze through the palace corridors before Force choking Jabba as the Darth Vader theme plays. Forget the rancor, these are demigods. They have lightsabers. Have you seen them? They go “woosh woosh.” 

In short, there was little to look up to in terms of a “hero” character. I can see how children can look up to Luke as a role model, someone they want to emulate or play with as a toy, but looking up to Anakin? Ahsoka? Hey kids, wanna learn to become a psychopath? First, you use your power to abuse those who are weaker than you. Then you need to get really really angry and uncontrollably choke someone, preferably your sister or one of your cousins. 

And so, for a Saturday morning cartoon show, it is very unclear who we’re supposed to care about. I liked when Ahsoka went against Anakin because I hated his character so much. I liked everything with Hondo, a pirate. I liked Ventress a little, because she was actively seeking to kill the main characters. I liked some of the clones, but I don’t know which ones because they all looked the same. I cared about Darth Maul because I’m honestly a little worried about him, especially after the loss of his brother. I kinda liked General Grievous just because he hates the “Jedi” and was therefore relatable (even though the reasoning was never explained). And... that’s it. 

At no point did I ever “look forward” to the next episode. I painfully died a little on the inside hitting the “watch next” button every single time.

This “review” is already way too long, so let me summarize by applying my five-star rating system (developed for movies) to each episode. In review:

5. Amazing, classic, culturally important. Something everyone should watch.  4. Great; very well done, no significant flaws. 3: Entertaining with only minor gripes/criticisms.  2: “Watchable,” but suffers from flaws and has some poor parts.  1. Uncomfortably bad; suffers from serious flaws. 0. Painfully bad, would actively fight against being forced to watch a second time. 

The 3-star episodes were: 

Hostage Crisis

Lightsaber Lost 

Pursuit of Peace

Carnage of Krell

The Wrong Jedi 

Hostage Crisis was the introduction of Cad Bane, Lightsaber Lost was the remake of Stray Dog (and the only episode to include a real Jedi), Pursuit of Peace was the random Padme/politics episode that was strangely well-executed, Carnage of Krell was the reveal of Krell as a bad guy and his clones working to apprehend him, and The Wrong Jedi was Ahsoka leaving the Jedi Order (and the only episode to include a true character moment). 

Also, I scaled the IMDB ratings of each episode to my ratings and then detected outliers in their overlap. In other words, I wanted to answer the question, “which episodes did I rate the most differently from others?” 

Turns out, I rated every single episode lower except for seven. Those seven were: 

Mercy Mission (+1.853) - R2 and 3PO discover an underground world with ents. This one is universally panned by “fans,” but was a competently handled episode apart from the disappointing resolution. 

Pursuit of Peace (+1.382) - Padme struggles to win support for a Senate bill. Another competently handled episode that focuses on Padme and politics and is ranked low by “fans.”

Lightsaber Lost (+0.6471) 

Weapons Factory (+0.4118) - An average episode with a dramatic scene of sacrifice by Ahsoka and her “friend” Barriss. 

Shadow Warrior (+0.3824) - Grievous is captured during some dramatic moments on Naboo. 

Hostage Crisis (+0.3529)

Front Runners (+0.0882) - One of the rebels episodes, I don’t remember which. 

In conclusion, Star Wars: Rebels is next and I am somehow still alive.

[wicked-game-black-butler]

congrats on 300 hun💕✨ if you’re interested, would you mind doing some sieglinde/wolfram headcanons? sfw and nsfw are both alright in my book- whatever sparks your interest ig!

I’ll start with the sfw ones and then end with the nsfw. Gotta save the best for last. ;)

Sieglinde and Wolfram continue living in London after things with the Undertaker and Ciel are resolved, though they often travel so Sieglinde can meet with various scientists, such as Marie Curie, who is one of her personal heroes. She also became fast friends with the then young Albert Einstein. Later Sieglinde would be instrumental with the development of his theory of the law of relativity.

Due to the constraints on women at the time, Sieglinde initially began publishing her scientific research under Wolfram’s name. Otherwise it wouldn’t have seen the light of day. She accompanies him as well when he is invited to speak at universities around the world about “his” discoveries. Wolfram goes along with this for awhile, especially while she is still a child. However, once she comes of age, it was the butler who ultimately convinces her to take proper credit for her work.

Wolfram and Sieglinde’s relationship remains that of platonic friendship, Wolfram taking on the roll of caretaker during Sieglinde’s childhood and through early adolescence. He, always the dutiful and attentive butler and she, the kind-hearted mistress. Throughout this time he would carry her whenever they left their London house, would rub soothing ointments on her feet when they ached because of oncoming rain or when the winters would turn cold, and would ensure she continued to eat and drink properly, even when she was consumed in her research (if not, she would go all day without taking in any nourishment and end up confined to bed the next day while she recovered).

Puberty came late for Sieglinde, when she was 15. Though, honestly, no matter when “the great change” occurred, Wolfram would never be prepared. He was scared shitless when Sieglinde came to him, hands bloody and in tears, complaining of a terrible stomach ache. Though Sieglinde knew much about biology, there weren’t many resources on women’s menstruation. That, combined with the lack of feminine influences in her life left her terrified as well. He had called for the doctor immediately, who, upon examining the young woman was kind enough to sit down with the butler and explain that nothing was the matter with his mistress. What was happening was completely natural and the young woman simply needed plenty of rest and an iron-rich diet for the next week or so. Though the next day, Wolfram visited Nina, who happily visited to explain to the both of them how Sieglinde could best cope with this change. After he had the proper knowledge, though, Wolfram was just as attentive to his mistress in this area as any other in her life. Every month when her time came he would dote on her, in his awkward way, and would provide her with heated towels and herbal teas to help with the pain.

However, when puberty came, that was when Wolfram’s problems began. He had first noticed it when her dresses began to grow tight in the bust and hips. Then came the thinning of her face, her appearance less like a child’s and more like a woman’s each day, accentuating the plumpness of her lips and the healthy blush that dusted her cheeks. After a few months, there were times when Wolfram would notice Sieglinde’s gaze tracing his form, a confused hunger in her eyes, as if she was seeing something for the first time. All of these stirred an unbidden hunger of his own, but he did his best to dismiss them, hanging onto the frail thought it was because it had been some time since he had been with a woman. Though the moment when his desire for her became undeniable was when he was assisting her with her leg strengthening exercises. When she pushed against his hand which secured her foot, her skirt slid back, revealing where his hand rested on the side of her thigh, testing the muscle there. He felt his cock stiffen as his gaze followed the soft, milky skin if her leg, the the swell of her thigh and rear. Without thinking, he squeezed her thigh, kneading the supple flesh. She was beautiful, he thought as he gaze continued to travel up her lithe feminine frame, until his eyes met hers. The look he saw in her eyes almost made his knees buckle. He had expected disgust or fear, but instead he saw only desire. His cock twitched at the realization. She wanted this. She wanted him. Shame washed over him when his erection pressed against the bed and he dismissed himself, offering a quick apology, before all but fleeing from the room.

The next two years would be filled with this back and forth, both mutually desiring the other, but not acting on that desire. Occasionally they would share a kiss, but only on special occasions like birthdays and holidays, afraid of what would happen to their relationship if they became more than mistress and butler, more than friends. But that changed on Sieglinde’s 18th birthday. The strong-willed, independent woman initiated things and by then Wolfram could no longer deny himself, nor her, consequences be damned. Their first time together was gentle, sweet, and slow, but no less passionate. Wolfram’s previous experience helped him work Sieglinde through the initial discomfort, until she was a sighing, mewling mess beneath him. She came, and would always come, first, just mere seconds before Wolfram pulled himself out of her just in time to release in his hand instead of inside her.

Wolfram is a fairly simple creature when it comes to sex, changing positions being the most adventurous thing he thinks of. Though he has one condition- he has to be able to see her face. Whether that means she's facing him or a mirror, he wants to see the way her delicate brows crease, her kiss-swollen lips parting, his name reverently dripping from her tongue as her eyes close, her head leaning back as her face reflects nothing but enraptured bliss when he brings her to climax. He is also a huge fan of blow jobs. He had initially been opposed to the idea, believing such an act beneath his lady. Though the moment he looked down to see her on her knees, red, swollen lips around his cock, the warm, wet muscle of her tongue teasing his tip, her hand stroking what she could not take in her mouth, changed his mind immediately. The only time he faltered was when he caught her lusty, half-lidded emerald gaze. It makes him come immediately every time. Generally he's a gentle lover, fully attending to his partner's needs and finding his fulfillment in that. Though nothing makes his blood run hotter than when Sieglinde corners him without warning in a place like a carriage or a private room at a noble's house, wasting no time to unbutton his pants and lift her skirts to ride him mercilessly until they both come, fast and hard, their necks and shoulder littered with scratches and bruises that will be difficult to explain away. 

Sieglinde is the more adventurous of the two, often suggesting different things to try. Though most times she is the more dominant one, she enjoys it more when Wolfram is in control. She craves the strength and power she can feel rippling through his muscles as he presses her close and thrusts into her. And she relishes in the trust she shows him then. She wouldn't allow any other partner to dominate her in the ways he does, but she trusts him implicitly. That being said, she is down for literally anything, even enjoying light BDSM and wax play. She enjoys studying her lover and learning what pleases him most. Though, as much as she enjoys things like toys, blindfolds, and the occasional exotic asphyxiation, the thing that makes her weakest, that makes her clench greedily around Wolfram’s cock is when he's so enraptured by her, by them being together, that he slips back into German while he fucks her.

I hope you enjoyed these. I’ve not given much thought to the Sieglinde/Wolfram ship, simply because of Sieglinde’s current age in the manga, but it was interesting and fun to think about how things might develop between the two as Sieglinde grows into a woman. 

Thank you so much for this ask and for supporting my work! You’re so kind and sweet and I appreciate what you bring to the fandom. I can’t wait to read your Sieglinde/Wolfram fic! It’s in my (ever growing) “to read” list. <3 <3 <3