#performance tracking for schools is not and should never be to determine who's worth more. money or lives

[doctorwhoisadhd]

you know. as a teacher. this discussion is a little too #real.

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

[retroyousei]

Female characters in retro shojo [70s edition, part 1]

Ah, the 1970s (and early 80s), where a majority of the shojo manga stories took place in a distant European country or in America, surrounding either orphan girls from the 19th or early 20th century, who remain cheerful and have adventures, trying to find out who they are, making friends and falling in love, or epic historical stories filled with war, scandals and larger than life characters. If the manga was taking place in Japan, the plot was somehow more down to earth -though most of the time it restrained the same amount of unrealism- and it was either about following the journey of a girl who pursues the career of her dreams and evolves into a notable person, or a high school story filled either with melodrama and angst or a more heartwarming romantic comedy. But in this two-part article I won’t talk about plot tropes of the shojo manga of that era -as this topic deserves an exclusive article-, but about the female characters (I will dedicate an article on male characters some other time). Those characters are very important, as they set the standards of today’s manga and anime. But it should be noted that back then the formula of their design and characteristics are different from today’s. Those are the categories that I’ve noticed, regarding the appearance and personality.

The “average” protagonists

They are the most common category. Usually, they come from middle class and they are presented either as cheerful and a little dense schoolgirls, or plain looking and unrefined, as oppose to their antagonists or rivals who are well educated, beautiful and more talented, but this may serve as a determination for them to improve. Other times they are presented as headstrong heroines, ahead of their time, who refuse to compromise and for this they are a pain to their old-fashion society. Either way, they are kind, good, well-intentioned and want to help the others, that’s why they make friends easily. The thing that really works with these characters and makes them much more interesting than they may seem, is that they are independent and built their future on their own and they never give up, no matter what happens and what someone might say about them. Even when they are not sure of themselves, they always keep trying, until they reach to their dream. They use their obstacles as strength and determination to go on, proving that they are not average at all.

Maya, the protagonist of “Glass Mask” is a great example of this. She starts as a good-for-nothing daughter of a poor family, who isn’t particularly accomplished, but has a hidden passion for acting which she hadn’t realise it herself at that point. But when she is discovered by Tsukigake, a former legendary actress, she realises how much she wants to be an actress to a point that she lied saying that her mother allowed her to study to sensei’s acting school and ran away from home. Not even when her mother told her that she doesn’t consider her as her daughter anymore, she didn’t gave up, in spite of being very hurt by this. Her path towards acting wasn’t easy. Many times she has to face many who say that she doesn’t belong to that industry, or who are jealous of her talent and means her harm, but with her faith in herself, she always overcomes those obstacles. An admirable thing about her is that she dislikes fame, being shy, as she just wants to act and that she does not gives up, no matter what and even when she does, she quickly stands up. The most interesting dynamic of the story is her worthy rivalry with Ayumi, that is clearly a case of the trope “technician vs performer”, with Maya as the performer, as her standard method to learn how to play a character is to become that character. As the story progresses, Maya evolves from a girl with a hidden talent, to a young actress who portraits an original take to classic characters, but who still had much to learn, to one of the greatest actresses of her generation.

In “Yokohama Monogatari”, Uno starts as a plain, poor, orphan girl, who is ignorant about the world, as she hasn’t even seen the sea before and she believed that westerners were vampires who could drink people’s blood, that’s why they had blonde hair and blue eyes. She starts to work as a companion in a rich family to their daughter Mariko, who is the same age as her. Besides their differences, they become quickly best friends. While Mariko is a little spoiled, Uno, despite of her ignorance of world, can be more considerate and responsible in some matters. She also has a lust for learning and soon her and Mariko pursuade her family to go to school. There, she meets many people, among them there are a few foreigners too, she makes a lot of friends, and she excels at all of her studies, being hardworking. As the years passed by, Japan changes and allows exchange of ideas from many cultures -it’s Meiji era we are taking about, that means the last quarter of the 19th century- and Uno evolves from a poor, -many would say- hopeless for her situation, clueless of the world girl, to an open minded, educated and refined woman, surrounded by many people she loves.

In “Tokimeki Tonight”, Ranze -well except of being the daughter of Dracula and warewolf and having her own vampire powers as well- is an average girl who is friendly, sweet and little quirky girl who goes to school and falls in love with Shuun. Some may say that she is pretty basic, but in fact, she knows her self worth well, so even when her parents were disappointed with her not having any power yet, at the beginning of the story, she wasn’t particularly bothered by it. Also she is very headstrong that she falls in love with a human boy, while she knows well that a creature from the demon world and a human cannot be together. But in spite of all of that, she decides to stay true to her own feelings and even though she’s not so sure about Shuun’s feelings for her either, she doesn’t give up and waits for him, because she hopes and deep down knows that he likes her too and she is right. And even when her parents want her to marry prince Aaron of the demon world and even the king- learn that she likes a human, in spite of that being against the rules, she isn’t afraid to stand up for her beliefs. Later though, we learn that Shuun is the lost prince of the demon world, so he is not a human after all, but that’s another story.

In “Aim For The Ace”, Hiromi is a typical schoolgirl who struggles to get better in tennis, when she gets selected as one of the club’s main players in school by the new coach, as he saw potential in her. Some of her seniors are jealous of her because of that and at first she thinks that she is not worth such a discrimination, but soon she improves and realises how much she loves tennis. There’s also a very similar rivalry dynamic with “glass mask” between Hiromi and Reika who grow to be worthy opponents.

In “Haikara San Ga Toru”, Benio is a headstrong young woman who studies Kendo, drinks sake and prefers reading literature and feminist ideas, rather than being interested in housework. She also likes to dress in western clothes, rather than the traditional kimono and strongly believes that women should have the right to decide for their future on their own and they should marry for love. But her world turns upside down when her father announces that he has arranged a marriage for her. The one that he indends for her is someone she knew before, very briefly and accidentally, a lieutenant named Shinobu. Of course, she refuses, being loyal to her ideals and she goes out of her way to avoid him, just to satisfy her pride, in spite of actually starting developing feelings for him. When she moves to his grandparents’ house to get prepared as his wife, she purposely fails in all of her duties as a housewife and constantly argues with his grandparents, but all of that only makes Shinobu fall for her even more. It’s only when he leaves to go to the war, when she realises her feelings for him and during at that time when everyone thought that he was dead, she matured and became even stronger, remaining loyal to him and determined to work as a journalist to support his family, but also tracking him down, hoping that he’s still alive. Of course, at the very end, they live happily ever after together. Benio’s character development is admirable; starting as a clever, but headstrong girl, to an independent and wise woman, proving that you don’t have to disagree with everyone in order to prove that you are the one who chooses how to live your own life.

The villains

Their extreme pride and vain is their common nature. Most of the times they come from a wealthy family, so they are either oujo-sans who are always dressed elegantly, are seemingly refined and they tend to have curly, blonde hair -as blonde hair seem to be associated with wealth and sophistication in Japan-, or they are just spoiled brats that demand that everyone will do as they say. They are the main antagonist of the story for different reasons. The most common one is that they are jealous of the heroine, either because they are their love rivals and they are jealous of the heroine’s relationship with the love interest of the story, or because they are just pathologically jealous of the heroine because of her looks, her happiness, her luck and her loving nature. Another reason they act the way they do is because they want power and success, or they just want to secure all of that. The worse and least complex reason of all is that they are just mean for no particular reason.

Eliza, from “Candy Candy” is the typical alpha b*tch who is pathologically jealous of Candy. At first, she along with her brother, makes her life miserable, by blaming her for the bad things they do, such as hurting the horses in the stables, provoking her and then telling to their mother that she’s wild and leaving her alone in a town she doesn’t know and locking her in dark rooms. After that, during their time in London, Eliza says to everyone that Candy is an orphan who made her life miserable, even blaming her for Antony’s death. Later, having the habit of falling in love with the one that Candy likes too, school, she falls for Terry and constantly tries to turn him against her, failing miserably. She also writes a fake letter to her that it was supposedly from Terry and to Terry too, to meet each other in the stables at night and with this, she blabs them to the teachers and Candy, having no choice, leaves school. Later, when Candy was pursuing a career as a nurse, she continues her cruel ways and her mother also threats the director of the hospital where she was working, that if they won’t fire her, the Leagan family will withdraw their funds for the hospital and she also made sure that no hospital from Chicago will hire her, leaving Candy in a difficult situation. Those are only of few of the things that Leagan family did to Candy. The worst part is that they don’t pay for what they did at the end.

Fukiko from “Oniisama e” fits well this image; She is a refined lady from a rich family, the president of the sorority and very educated, that’s why she is admired by everyone. However, in reality she is manipulative, proud and very possessive. She wants to control everyone and she’s even willing to go out of her way to achieve what she wants. For instanse, she’s jealous of Nanako because she is close to Henmi Takehito, the one that she (Fukiko) is in love with, so to control her, she chooses her to be a member of the sorority and demands that she will stay away from him, even by pulling her into the lake and attempt to drown her . She also makes Rei’s life miserable, by stepping into her weakness, refuse to accept her as a member of their family and constantly manipulating her with the cruelest of ways. Also, it’s revealed that her friends from the sorority are feeling pressured because of her. Later, with the death of Rei, along with her realisation that Henmi and Kaoru No Kimi are truly in love, surprisingly, she regrets, gives up on her cruel ways and matures, growing even more beautiful for all of that.

Yoko from “Tokimeki Tonight” is a different case. She is the love rival of the story and the have loved Shuun ever since they were little. Being the only daughter of a rich businessman, she is spoiled and when something doesn’t go as she wants, she is is angry and demands that everything will go the way she wants. She envies Ranze for her close relationship with Makabe and ever since she accidentally saw her transforming, she tried desperately to prove others that she (Ranze) is a vampire. Her character is less dramatic and more comedic, as she is often grumpy and clumsy. But she isn’t really a bad person and she doesn’t really cause an awful lot of trouble.

In “The Rose of Versailles”, Madam Du Barry, the king’s mistress, wants to sustain her place in the court and demands that Marie Antoinette, who was at that time the dauphine, will speak to her. She also have tried to poison one of the court ladies. Countess De polignag becomes the queen’s best friend, for her own benefits and manipulates her without her (Marie Antoinette) knowing, like telling her to lie about being pregnant and also persuade her to start gambling in the court, which was illegal. She’s also Rosalie’s biological mother and accidentally kills the woman which raised her daughter and she’s the reason that her other daughter suicides, because she cannot handle the marriage the she arranged for her. Besides of her daughter’s death, she doesn’t seem to regret for any of her actions as she tries to make Rosalie merry the same man. Luckily Rosalie escapes. Also, she tried to sabotage Oscar many times and all this was just for the sake of power and money.

In “Glass Mask”, Norie Otobe, befriends Maya and she is supposedly her assistant, but in reality she just waits for the right moment to strike and steal Maya’s role and career. Unfortunately, she succeeds and it costs a lot for Maya, for a while. Luckily Ayumi discovers this and punishes her with the best way ever.

The tomboys

They are either mysterious, or lively, but one thing is for sure; they are dressed in clothes that are considered to be “manly”, they are handsome and they are constantly mistaken for a boy. They are also very elegant and educated and their image is that of a prince. That’s why they are admired by both women and men. Some may say that even though they are trying to be like a man, they are still weak, but they point out that just because they dress more “tomboyish”, doesn’t mean that it makes them less of a woman. After all, when they want to, they can transform into the most feminine girl of all. They also prove that their sexuality is not associated with their looks, as a “masculine” girl has the same possibilities of being heterosexual or homosexual, with a more “feminine” one. So, they break all the stereotypes regarding women. Many times, they are portrayed as headstrong heroines who stand up for their beliefs and their friends.

The most famous character that supports this image is Oscar from “the Rose of Versailles”. Oscar is one of the daughters of the Jerjeyes household. Not having any son, her father decided to raise her as a boy so that one day she will succeed him. Oscar dresses in boys’ clothes and learns activities like fencing and archery. When she was fourteen, she was tasked to serve as Marie Antoinette’s bodyguard. The manga often pointed out how different those two were regarding appearance and character, even if they were in the same age. Oscar has a strong sense of justice and she always protects the weak and is not afraid to challenge someone that she believes that isn’t right. Of course, she is admired by men and women alike and she is also a great and loyal friend. At one point she falls in love with Fersen, who loves Marie Antoinette. But because of her respect for the queen and her love of Fersen, she helps them, despite being heartbroken. At the end, she realises that she loves her childhood friend, Andre. She loves medieval combat, drinking heavy drinks, talking about politics and playing violin. Many pointed out that being a woman she was weaker but she always proved them wrong, pointing out that women can do anything and that it doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman, only how skilful you are. She was hiding her femininity not because she wanted to be a man, but because that if she acted like a woman, the society might think that she was weak and she wouldn’t be able to have the access and the freedom to do what women normally wouldn’t do back then, because women were alowed to limited things. In the early 1970s, by the time this manga was ongoing, the second wave of feminism had already started and women started fighting for equal legal and social rights, so Oscar’s character was influenced by all this.

Rei from “Oniisama e”, is admired by her fellow classmates and is also called “saint Juste”, named after one of the leaders from French Revolution, due to her physical resemblance to him. She is very charismatic, excelling to sports, piano, guitar and theatre, she is very elegant and dresses often in a black suit. Unfortunately she is drug-addict, she smokes and can be suicidal, carrying always pills and a sharp object with her. She is also obsessed with Fukiko, the sorority’s president, for many reasons, causing her to be controlled and abused by her. She also lives alone in a depressing house filled with mirrors and this also causes to be depressed. Her best friend is Kaoru no Kimi, who’s also a tomboy, but they are entirely different and she befriends Nanako and her friends. In the end she suicides, taking too many sleeping pills, having everyone, especially Nanako, left devastated.

Also from “Oniisama e”, Kaoru, is a tomboy who is strong and energetic. She is athletic and excels at basketball, but she is also very cool and doesn’t seem to care that she is the best at something that she’s doing, that’s why she is admired by her fellow classmates who gave her the nickname “Kaoru no Kimi”, from a Japanese classical novel; “the tale of Genji”. She also has a great sense of justice, as when she sees classmates being bullied, she defends them and put the bullies on their place. She is also very loyal and supportive and cares deeply about her friends, helping them when they are in need, especially her best friend, Rei, for whom she is very concerned. But in spite of her energetic appearance, she suffers from breast cancer and tries to keep it a secret, pretending that she is healthy and that everything is under control. But in fact, she pushes away her beloved, Henmi Takehito, concealing her true feelings, in order for him to be happy without her and not suffer anymore, showing how selfless she is and how much she loves him to a point of sacrificing her own feelings. At the end, it pays off and they end up together, living happily.

Another honourable mention is Rei, from “Glass Mask”. Rei is the older student of Tsukikage sensei’s company and one of Maya’s best friends. She is a tomboy who wears those characteristic 70s jeans and for some reason is mistaken by a boy -much to her dislike-, despite of being obvious that she is a girl. Being an actress, she can transform into a beautiful princess in no time, but she also portraits very well a prince. In the first volumes, she portrayed Jo, from “little women” which was a role very suited for her. As a sister figure for Maya, she is loyal, friendly and the responsible one who helps the theatre company stay organised and is a very strict teacher to Maya, helping her because she knows her potential. Also from “Glass Mask”, Keiko from the “Ikkakuju group” is also mistaken as boy, but she can transform into a pretty princess in no time.

Note: At the first half of the 20th century “Little Women” were very popular in Japan, particularly Jo, who was tomboyish and outspoken and her character had inspired the first female mangakas of the 60s for their stories and characters.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[cherubchoirs]

What do you think if the Phantom Thieves (except Futaba) all had Shadows they had to confront and fight (like in p4), and what would they be?

OK this one is super interesting and it’s taken me MONTHS to get to, so let’s gooooooooo (will include p5r spoilers!)

i think all of their contracts sort of give us an idea of what their shadow selves may be (meaning goro is more up in the air), and i like to go with the idea that in p5, their shadows are how society has forced them to act. they have incorporated that into the self and conformed to it, but they don’t wish to acknowledge that they do so, instead making themselves believe they have no choice. futaba’s shadow, as the example, wishes for her own death as she was a burden and a curse to her mother...but she also made futaba aware this was a lie concocted by adults that took away her agency and her anger. SO with that in mind, here are the takes!!

akira - the bystander, the boy told to keep out of the way and to keep his head down. he’s determined to live a quiet and peaceful life, to get through his probation and swear to turn the other way when evil happens in front of him. akira is ashamed of the impulse because he knows what’s right, he knows he needs to help, but his shadow is all about self-preservation and avoiding further punishment. so he protects himself and only himself by feigning ignorance and closing his eyes, his ears, and his mouth. his shadow says “i already got mine, they’re on their own”

ryuji - the traitor, the boy who ruined the dreams of the track team and wears it with pride. he destroyed their hopes of the future and now has become a delinquent, free of the responsibilities he once had to himself, to his mom, and to his school. he can be rude, crass, and vulgar (lol) to his heart’s content because no one expects any more of him after enacting such violence. his anger runs deep and he doesn’t care about how he hurt his old team, they deserved it for never standing up for themselves.

ann - the sweetheart, the girl always there with a kind but seemingly empty word for her friend, supportive but distant. however, she instead tries to work within the confines of the world, trying to save the ones she cares about by using her looks and the reputation everyone puts on her because of them, pretending to be a flirtatious airhead to please those that may hurt the only person she cares for. she hurts herself over and over again, breaks down her own sense of self worth to sacrifice endlessly in ways others never see. she takes the pain forever with a smile.

yusuke - the student, the boy who knows the lies his teacher tells to him, but he is forever devoted to preserving the image his superior has both to the world and to himself. he believes his debt extends to worship, faith in the teacher who is a genius, who knows best, who is so much older and so much wiser and so must be doing right. in fact, he should be so lucky to have his work considered good enough to carry his teacher’s name instead of his own, he should happily produce for him because his teacher’s reputation has no price too high. surely he at least must return the cost of caring for him when no one would.

makoto - the role model, the girl who is quick-witted and resourceful, she can juggle every task the incompetent, lazy, or uncaring adults entrust to her. after all, their responsibilities are so much greater than even hers, just a silly high school student with all the time in the world to perform their lowlier tasks for them. she accepts every ask with grace and tact, she turns down no request and will work herself past the point of burn out for praise, for recognition, for the promise of her future. this is just the way the world is, she must get used to it now if she wants to survive.

haru - the princess, the girl who’s always charming and polite, perfectly prim and never a bore but her words are always shallow. she seems to only exist at gatherings and galas, always smiling, introduced by a beaming father and complimented on how beautiful she is, how she will make a most wonderful wife now that she’s blossoming into a young woman. she worships her fiance, she has captivated his whole family and, most importantly, his father with how delicate and vapid she is. a wonderful spouse up for trade, the loveliest business venture her father ever pursued.

goro - the orphan, the boy who is helpless and was left abandoned by his family and by society. he has no will of his own that he can inflict on the world, instead he is battered by fate and by an actively cruel reality, a curse, unwanted and unneeded by anyone. he elicits disgust in whoever he meets, yet he yearns deeply to be loved and to be accepted, he begs for it and everyone he meets that will give him any time of day are his “friends”. he believes there is no such thing as unconditional love and no matter what he tries, his struggle will be rendered futile.

sumire - the doppelganger, the girl that believes she is only a shadow of a sister far more talented and determined than she could ever be. she only had worth defined by another, one she followed around like a weight, dragging her down with her incompetence. a burden for her sister, pitied awkwardly by parents, an inconvenience that grew increasingly irrelevant and irritating with every passing day until she botched her own death. now she is a shadow without a body, the wrong girl taken in her attempt on her own life, the ultimate blunder ever committed by another human being. she pantomimes her sister more and more poorly, although she’s tricked herself into believing she really is her in her house of ashes.

morgana - the monster, the boy that can’t face who he really is for he fears what he will see in the mirror. he lives happily in ignorance, never wanting to remember his origins or his duties and he indulges in his freedom without worry of where he comes from. after all, if he has no idea of his past, he can imagine himself as anything he wants - a dashing rogue, a swashbuckling hero, a gallant thief, he is whatever he makes himself to be without the burden of his history. he never turns around too quickly, never wanting to catch a look at himself because every now and then he sees jail cells, black ooze, darkness. but that’s not him.

[dokifluffs]

I Like You | Nagisa Hazuki

Pairing: Nagisa X Reader (female)

Genre: cute fluff! 

Request: “I was wondering if maybe you write for Nagisa Hazuki??? If sooooo, I'd love some Headcanons for how you think he'd go about getting a very quiet, introverted and kind of shy girl ,whom he very clearly has a crush on, to like him! And like if you DON'T write for Nagisa, then please feel free (hehehe) to write for whoever you'd like! Take as long as you'd like, no pressure, and have fun! 🌼” - @thedreadthreadanomaly​

Author’s Note: Thank you for requesting, @thedreadthreadanomaly​! I hope you like this!! I didn’t know Nagisa that well so I felt pretty iffy going in 

You caught his eye when one of the counselors brought you to homeroom and introduced yourself

L/N Y/N

He felt a pull toward you when the subtle aura you projected reached his senses

In the free time after attendance, he walked to your shy figure as you kept to yourself, your eyes wandered from the board to the clock

Your fingers fiddling as you looked at your fixed schedule for the rest of the school year

“Hi!” He said as he leaned forward over your desk. “I’m Nagisa Hazuki,” his eyes sparkled

You practically jumped in your seat at his sudden appearance, it made your heart race in your chest

You weren’t ready for this sudden exchange with anyone

To be honest, you expected it to go like your last school: maybe a few friends, but they never got close since they found you boring and it made you feel like a burden

“You’re Y/N, right?” He asked as brightly as eever

You could only muster a nod feeling the light blush spread across your cheeks, your words caught in your throat

The rest of the class periods you had with him, there was something about you that brought his attention back to you

He liked the way you looked

You were simple and soft spoken, from what he heard when the teacher had called on you to answer a question

He wanted to know you more but he could tell you were a quiet person

But when Nagisa wanted something, in this case someone, he was determined

“Hey, Y/N, wanna eat lunch with me on the roof?” He asked after class as the halls began to flood with students rushing off to the cafeteria or wherever

“Uhm... I don’t really know...” your eyes glanced up every now and then to meet his, only to look back down at your hands in your lap, fiddling with the pencil inside your desk cabinet

“Come on, it’ll be really fun! I can show you a bit around on the way there!” He said, finally locking eyes with you

“And I can even introduce you to some of my friends!”

Friends... a word that daunted you

“Sorry, I’m going to eat lunch by myself,” You said as you grabbed your bento, walking out of the classroom to elsewhere

“Hmmm...” he pouted, feeling upset at your denial

“Maybe you should get to know her more before asking her out to lunch? It is her first day after all..” Makoto spoke as Nagisa continued to pout whilst eating

“But I really wanted her to meet you guys and to eat lunch with her...” he shoved another mouthful of rice into his mouth

“Well you cant expect people to suddenly accept friendship, Nagisa,” Haru spoke as he ate his lovely mackerel

“But isn’t that how Nagisa is?” Kou asked, spending the day with the team. “He’s persistent”

“He really is. He wouldn’t leave me alone when I was still on the track team but I guess with his persistence, I did end up joining the team,” Rei added

“But be patient. Everyone has different personalities and it may be harder for others to open up.”

He took these words from his friends to his heart

He began to talk to you lightly, partnering with you during science labs, cleaned up the classroom with you at the end of the day before his club met for practice

He didn’t push you out of your comfort zone except a few times, but he caught himself and apologized

He found himself being too direct at times which made it a bit hard at first since he was very straight forward

But with you, he felt like it was worth it

It felt like he was getting nowhere with you but this feeling he had that made him drawn to you was still there

And it was getting stronger

He found himself thinking about you suddenly when he was doing his breast stroke during practice

The shy smile that you tried to hide from him that made him feel fuzzy inside when he said a funny story he had with his team as kids

He liked your smile

He listened intently whenever you did respond and he noticed your responses getting longer he got to know you

“Guys, I like y/n,” he finally admitted to his team as they ended practice and they waited for him outside the locker room to walk out together

They weren’t surprised. They knew since he would bring you up randomly as if he was updating them even though there was no need to

Over time, you found yourself feeling relieved seeing Nagisa when you walked in to class and his eyes met yours

He was always bright but it seemed brighter to you when he saw you

But surely that’s just how he is, right?

He wanted to ask you so many things but whenever he found the words formulating in his mouth, he remembered Makoto’s words to take it slow and how Rei said how everyone is different

They were right

He took his time to get to know you and he of course told you about himself (even though you didn’t ask) but you found yourself slowly enjoying the sound of his voice

Hearing it across the classroom whenever he talked to others

One day, the rain fell over the school, making the day feel sad

Nagisa had volunteered to be partners with you again to clean the classroom after school

A silence fell on the room but this time, it was you who found yourself wanting to break it, wanting to speak up

You swept the floors while he washed the chalkboard with a wash cloth

“Nagisa?”

He turned immediately to you, catching your figure in his eyes

“Can I tell you something?”

His heart did a literal flip in his chest since he was the one to initiate conversations with you and asked you things to get to know you

But now you were speaking up first

“Anything,” his eyes sparkled as he leaned over the teacher’s podium at the front of the class, his eyes and ears peeled

“Um..” shyness coming back to you, now realizing you didn’t know how to speak about your past

“Th-thank you... for being my friend.. I’ve never really had any before,” you said as you kept your eyes on the bristles of the broom on the ground

Your heart raced in your chest, it sounded like it was all you could hear

And it honestly was

You felt his sudden embrace as he hugged you tightly, catching you off guard

“Wh- what are you doing?” You were flustered beyond comprehension, Heat spreading across your cheeks

“I’m so glad,” he smiled brightly, squeezing you tighter

“Ah, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’m just glad we were able to get closer,” he scratched the back of his head, stepping back

You went on to open up about your past, how burdened you felt to your old “friends” but to him,

“You could never be a burden. It just takes time to get to know others,” he smiled

From that day on, Nagisa continued his efforts to make you feel comfortable enough to open up to him and you did

You stood behind him as he introduced you to his team, suddenly feeling so small seeing Rei, Haru, and Makoto

He, of course being Nagisa, asked you why you were blushing so hard seeing them but you were just intimidated by their height

But they were super kind to you

You felt even better seeing Kou when Nagisa invited you to a practice

You had math class with her but not Nagisa  

She was very open and easy going, making you feel comfortable

She even talked about muscles with you and showed you a couple of her magazines but she steered clear of it when she saw you becoming shy once again

You found yourself, very surprisingly, walking with Nagisa and Kou to their practice even though you weren’t a manager or a swimmer

Nagisa personally walked with you to the metro and rode it with you until your stop which was fortunately before his

During a school wide festival, you stuck with him and he stuck with you as you two ventured around the school, eating all the various foods in the cafeteria that was made to look like food stands

Played the little games together in the gym and eventually met up with the others and went about as a group together around school

You felt so open around Nagisa, and now the others

He really was such a great person in your life

You saw him in your dreams after late practices

Soon the two of you exchanged phone numbers and he bombarded your phone with messages whenever he didn’t feel up to studying

Only for you to reply after you finished your own studies for the night

He really liked you

Now that Nagisa was able to see you smile around him and talk to you without worrying (too much) about being too direct, he really loved your smile

And when he likes something or someone, he pursues it

God your laugh

He could listen to it everyday and never get bored of it

Your soft spoken voice was so smooth in his ears, it relaxed him

He took in the sight of the golden sunset hitting you from the side of behind whenever the two of you walked from practice

As his team watched from behind

When summer rolled along, he still spent his time with you, inviting you to see movies that had recently come out, try out an ice cream shop that recently opened down the street from his place

He invited you to a summer festival with the team

The two of you met up with the others at the entrance of the big park that was reserved for the annual summer festival night

You all went around eating your fill, watching the dances and performances that was like s talent show for everyone to see

The summer night breeze was cool as it blew through your clothes

Kids and adults roamed about playing the various games, eating the delicious foods from the stands

Kids ran around, playing on the playground, throwing rings to win goldfish, shooting balloons to win stuffed animals

As it got a bit later, the small team began to leave, “going home” but it was all for Nagisa

It ended up becoming just you and Nagisa

You held the teddy bear he had won for you, winning an identical one for himself as the two of you walked with the crowd until he brought you to a different path

“We’ll have the best view of the fireworks from here!” He said as he held your hand, walking courageously through the bushy path

You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he held your hand securely

He took you to this wide clearing at the top of a cliff with the beach below, the soothing sound of the breeze and ocean washing along the shore filling your ears

The pale moon looked so beautiful over the night horizon, the sky so bright and filled with stars

You were amazed never seeing a sight like this when you lived in the city

Nagisa could feel his smile spreading on his face seeing how wide your eyes were, the stars shining so clearly in your eyes

You looked so lovely whenever you were in his eyes

He couldn’t take them off of you

“Y/N, I like you” he confessed

He couldn’t read the expression on your face but you were thankful it was night time so he couldn’t see how red your face was

“Re-really?” You stammered over your words, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest

“Really and I’m hoping you do too and we can be more than friends,” he spoke so boldly

How was he able to just say things like this so easily

“So do you? Do you feel the same way?” He asked, tilting his head a bit

The two of you were alone in his space on the cliff: there was no one else besides just the two of you and your feelings

“I do,” you melted into a soft smile as you looked him in the eyes

Even at night, his eyes seemed to sparkle

He beamed with joy as he pulled your figure closer beside him, wrapping his arm around yo

just as your face was mere inches away, the first firework of the night went off with a loud boom, startling the two of you, erupting laughter from the both of you on this spacious, empty cliff side

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

[richincolor]

We have eight books on our calendar that are releasing tomorrow, and there’s something for everyone! Which ones are on your radar?

We Are Not Free by Traci Chee HMH Books for Young Readers

“All around me, my friends are talking, joking, laughing. Outside is the camp, the barbed wire, the guard towers, the city, the country that hates us.

We are not free.

But we are not alone.”

Fourteen teens who have grown up together in Japantown, San Francisco.

Fourteen teens who form a community and a family, as interconnected as they are conflicted.

Fourteen teens whose lives are turned upside down when over 100,000 people of Japanese ancestry are removed from their homes and forced into desolate incarceration camps.

In a world that seems determined to hate them, these young Nisei must rally together as racism and injustice threaten to pull them apart. [Image and summary via Goodreads]

Like Spilled Water by Jennie Liu Carolrhoda Books

Nineteen-year-old Na has always lived in the shadow of her younger brother, Bao-bao, her parents’ cherished son. Years ago, Na’s parents left her in the countryside and went to work in the city, bringing Bao-bao along and committing everything to his education.

But when Bao-bao dies suddenly, Na realizes how little she knew him. Did he really kill himself because of a low score on China’s all-important college entrance exam? Na learns that Bao-bao had many secrets and that his death may not be what it seems. Na’s parents expect her to quit her vocational school and go to work, forcing Na to confront traditional expectations for and pressures on young women. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Wayward Witch (Brooklyn Brujas #3) by Zoraida Córdova Sourcebooks Fire

Rose Mortiz has always been a fixer, but lately she’s been feeling lost. She has brand-new powers she doesn’t understand, and her family is still trying to figure out how to function in the wake of her amnesiac father’s return home. Then, on the night of her Deathday party, Rose discovers her father’s memory loss has been a lie.

As she rushes to his side, the two are ambushed and pulled through a portal to the land of Adas, a fairy realm hidden in the Caribbean Sea. There, Rose is forced to work with a group of others to save Adas. Soon, she begins to discover the scope of her powers, the troubling truth about her father’s past, and the sacrifices he made to save her sisters.

But if Rose wants to return home so she can repair her broken family, she must figure out how to heal Adas first. –Image and summary via Goodreads

Never Look Back by Liliam Rivera Bloomsbury YA

Eury comes to the Bronx as a girl haunted. Haunted by losing everything in Hurricane Maria–and by an evil spirit, Ato. She fully expects the tragedy that befell her and her family in Puerto Rico to catch up with her in New York. Yet, for a time, she can almost set this fear aside, because there’s this boy . . .

Pheus is a golden-voiced, bachata-singing charmer, ready to spend the summer on the beach with his friends, serenading his on-again, off-again flame. That changes when he meets Eury. All he wants is to put a smile on her face and fight off her demons. But some dangers are too powerful for even the strongest love, and as the world threatens to tear them apart, Eury and Pheus must fight for each other and their lives. — Cover image and summary via Bookshop.org

Micah: The Good Girl (Flyy Girls #2) by Ashley Woodfolk Penguin Workshop

Micah Dupree had always liked being the “good girl.” She was happy painting, going to church, and acing her school projects. After all, she had a perfect older brother to live up to. But when he unexpectedly dies, Micah’s world is turned upside-down. With her anxiety growing, a serious boyfriend in the picture, and new feelings emerging, Micah begins to question what being the “good girl” really means…and if it’s worth it, anyway.

With simply stated text and compelling characters, Flyy Girls is a series that’s perfect for readers of any level. — Cover image and summary via Bookshop.org

Punching the Air by Ibi Zoboi and Yusef Salaam Balzer & Bray/Harperteen

The story that I thought was my life didn’t start on the day I was born

Amal Shahid has always been an artist and a poet. But even in a diverse art school, he’s seen as disruptive and unmotivated by a biased system. Then one fateful night, an altercation in a gentrifying neighborhood escalates into tragedy. “Boys just being boys” turns out to be true only when those boys are white.

The story that I think will be my life starts today

Suddenly, at just sixteen years old, Amal’s bright future is upended: he is convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to prison. Despair and rage almost sink him until he turns to the refuge of his words, his art. This never should have been his story. But can he change it?

With spellbinding lyricism, award-winning author Ibi Zoboi and prison reform activist Yusef Salaam tell a moving and deeply profound story about how one boy is able to maintain his humanity and fight for the truth, in a system designed to strip him of both. — Cover image and summary via Bookshop.org

Lux: The New Girl (Flyy Girls #1) by Ashley Woodfolk Penguin Workshop

Meet the Flyy Girls. The group of girls who seem like they can get away with anything. Veteran author Ashley Woodfolk pens a gorgeous and dynamic series of four Harlem highschoolers, each facing a crossroads of friendship, family, and love.

Lux Lawson is on a spree. Ever since her dad left, she’s been kicked out of every school that would take her, and this is her last chance: Harlem’s Augusta Savage School of the Arts. If this doesn’t work, Lux is off to military school, no questions asked. That means no more acting out, no more fights, and definitely no boyfriends. Focus on her photography, and make nice friends. That’s the deal.

Enter the Flyy Girls, three students who have it all together. The type of girls Lux needs to be friends with to stay out of trouble. And after charming her way into the group, Lux feels she’s on the right track. But every group has their secrets, including Lux. And when the past starts catching up with her, can she keep her place as a Flyy Girl? In this searing series opener, Lux takes center stage as she figures out just how hard it can be to start over.

With simply stated text and compelling characters, Flyy Girls is a series that’s perfect for readers of any level. — Cover image and summary via Bookshop.org

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas Swoon Reads

A trans boy determined to prove his gender to his traditional Latinx family summons a ghost who refuses to leave in Aiden Thomas’s paranormal YA debut Cemetery Boys, described by Entertainment Weekly as groundbreaking.

Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free.

However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school’s resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He’s determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave. — Cover image and summary via Bookshop.org

[bcanetwork]

BCA NFTalk Vol.3｜Art Blocks NFTs’ Imagination

Guest Speakers：Host ArthurLou BCA Co-Founder丨Vulcan DAO GP（简称A）

Zero Chen NFT Consultant of FTChinese.com（简称C）

Ting Song AI and Blockchain Artist丨IOAC Asia Ambassador（简称S）

Hesiod 「Theogo NFT Observer」Chief Editor （简称H）

Nico Yang VulcanDAO GP（简称Y）

Background: It's been a few months of a mini-bull market for NFT collectibles, which the frenzied sales of CryptoPunks have pushed up in recent days. In addition, Art Blocks, as a generative art segment, topped the 7-day trading volume list strongly, ranking first with The Art Blocks segment was ranked fifth overall with $498 million. These three segments - avatars, generative art, and solo editions - make up a solid JPEG Summer. In this context, we invite four guests to chat about the NFT imagination beyond Punk.

01

Host A: What do you think of the macro reasons for this 2021 Summer rampage? Share some of the recent Punk-like replica disc projects and NFT collecting tips that you've been following.

C: It's not very surprising that Punk is on fire; its holders or investors/collectors who are bullish think it should be higher priced. Its broken circle has become more apparent, and this mini-bull market is a spurt of an accumulation from the entire NFT market that preceded it. Social subcultures and aesthetic psychology drive NFT and trendy fashion, so its rise and fall may be very different from how technology has evolved and popularised. Compared to traditional art and traditional collecting, this wave in the crypto world should be just beginning. If CryptoPunks do become digital antiques, I believe they will be worth much more than that in the future.

Y: Until 2021, it will be difficult for digital content creators to get their work recognized by the market and to cash in without relying on big institutions with a centralized approach. The breaking of the circle in media and the entrance of money brought by the wealth creation effect have greatly refreshed the perception of digital content. Echoing what Che Guevara once said, "After we leave, they build you schools and hospitals, not because they have shown great mercy, but because we came."

The identity that comes with NFT is only really felt when it is held. The purpose is different, and the logic of buying and collecting can be very different. A scarce NFT is a status symbol in itself.

S: Compared to the art market, which is repeatedly tested and scrutinized by connoisseurs from different perspectives, there is a sizeable speculative bubble in the English-speaking community on Ethereum. A lot of this bubble is in cultural content and projects that lack culture can be short-lived. The works that I want to keep inside my wallet for a long time are the ones that I will be happy to look at even ten years from now.

In this JPEG Summer, I strongly feel that it is similar to 1CO at the end of 17, where all aspects of blockchain project parties were active, but the market turned cold after 18 years. A successful crypto art series is also a successful cultural product that combines technology and art.

Punk is Punk in the same way that an asteroid hitting the earth is hard to replicate, and special times happen like this. How do you ambush the next Punk? 1. Is there innovation? 2. Is the seed community very geeky? 3. Is it a historical level under the megatrend? 4. Can the team continue to do it? 5. are the institutional holders coming in at the middle stage good enough to drive the project forward? 6. can it create a cultural resonance in the circle? These are all worth exploring.

Regarding collection investment strategies, I am very much focused on niche artists from developing countries, especially those with a pure art background or a very pioneering sense of creativity in the contemporary art field and those who respect the blockchain spirit of the blockchain community.

Moderator A: Each Trader (trader) has a different investment strategy, and each person has limited energy to focus on one vertical track. Suppose one is easily influenced by the market and forcibly changes his investment strategy. In that case, it is scary for a Trader, which is equivalent to the whole cognitive system having to be reconstructed.

H: The cost of a physical painting is not high, but it can be sold for hundreds of millions. Therefore, the value of a work does not lie in its materials or cost. Its physical price does not determine the value of Jpeg. In the structure of the blockchain market, Crypto Punks, Art Blocks, and BAYC represent the three dimensions that can be found in the NFT market. Crypto Punks starts from a programmer and is driven by technology; the monkey BAYC is community-driven. The blockchain community may be The base for the survival of the future blockchain; Art Blocks enter from artistic creativity.

From the perspective of social governance, Token is an institutional symbol. Mature NFT projects must create a field and a way of existence, and a variety of hobbies professional life corresponds to the current needs of various communities. I don't see it as a speculative target but rather as a script for building a kind of Metaverse called the respective Metaverse, whose development depends on the evolution of the community.

02

Moderator A: The more successful 10K projects have a cultural tribe behind them, and the ethos can be very different from project to project. How do you see Art Blocks as a clear stream with awe-inspiring numbers? How do you see it breaking out and the appreciation and valuation insights into generative art as a discipline?

S: The group of projects in NFT that are particularly speculative and not culturally good enough are like passing clouds and won't be in the prosperous state they are today when the market is in a bad mood. But two things are sure to go a long way: firstly, good cultural content is never speculative. But anything that has an innovative aesthetic or interest that strikes a chord is not entirely speculative and has its own commercial identity quite typically. The second point, the trend towards avatars and social identities, is unstoppable.

I am very bullish on generative art. Behind it is a respect and exploration of the mathematical logic behind information technology. The methods used are engineering in nature and reflect the cultural identity of a group of people.

C: Generative art started with computer technology and continued until this wave of artificial intelligence, more precisely the application of convolutional neural networks, entered the aesthetic vision of the masses, with a low correlation to the market price of generative artworks. In the past, the general aesthetics of popular art did not break through the traditional class texture (strong mediated aesthetic vision), the blockchain market changed this law, and the same thing is now entering the NFT art collectibles market.

H: NFT is a fuse to the art market, not a monopoly on art history. When the financial operation goes to an extreme, it is decoupled from the actual value creator. Although Art Blocks has a centralized organizer, it is isomorphic with the state-of-the-art community. Generative art will present different visual effects depending on the materials used. With the rapid development of technology and speculation, it is possible to join the first-line NFT.

Y: Art Blocks is the same thing as the explosion of CryptoPunks. Looking at the top 20 Crypto Punks holdings, the most intuitive data is that there is a very high degree of overlap with the big Art Blocks accounts, with the smallest of these holdings holding more than 50 Art Block NFTs.

More generally, a large percentage of the first blockchain explorers to make a large fortune were programmers. The culture that Art Blocks carries is precisely an aesthetically pleasing phenomenon from a programmer's perspective.

Any art form first evolved from technology, and the value of NFT relies on the programmer-led blockchain revolution to provide sufficient wealth to support it. Crypto Punks represent a new class of people, the last piece of the puzzle in internet development.

03

A: The bigger the wave, the further back you look; what should be the kind of work that can be called classic or digital antiques? What is the view on the future of NFT?

C: If we look at this from a long-term perspective, three points need to be considered. Firstly, there is a characteristic of any cultural investment product that performs more similarly to financial assets in a bull market and can be less liquid than financial assets in a bear market, with a liquidity black hole. Classic core assets can find counterparties no matter when they are traded. Broad consensus and acceptance are the hallmarks of traditional investments, and a sense of scarcity and value is formed over a long period.

Secondly, whether crypto art or generative art, continuing to move forward requires special attention to fit in with other cultural and sub-cultural trends, the spirit of the times.

Thirdly, the artist is a profession, not an inoffensive one. One might as well consider the NFT market giving artists such opportunities as a form of nourishment. If it does not produce investment returns, it is still making its contribution to the art market.

H: I encourage artists to get involved in art that may not be very romantic because there is a massive demand for essential art waiting there. A good NFT project is hardly successful without the creation of artists, and NFT offers a vast blue ocean for artists. Calmness is always within one's heart, maintaining a sense of rationality in the course of a bear or bull market, no matter how noisy it may be.

Host's summary: Since I entered this track myself, there are still times of anxiety and confusion, but things are still in the making. I hope that I can do something genuinely long-term like the four excellent teachers.

[ey8508]

Rumors & Secrets LZ

Totally more contents about LZ : )

[Finally, we meet again]

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to chapter 37 (read with your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or grammar errors)

This is mostly in Li Zeyan’s POV before he meets MC (in the past original timeline) and ends with the iconic “Evolver?” question (where it all begins in chapter 1)

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1

Page 1

The sun is slowly setting...

At the horizon, a large rose color slowly fainted from the golden sunlight, soaking the low-hanging cloud curtain, allowing the color of the stratus clouds to burst out, reflecting the blue sea surface that meets the sky.

The extended Bentley drove away from the bustling part of the town and moved slowly along the winding road. It rained at noon, and the air was full of the smell of wet soil and raindrops soaking leaves. Li Zeyan lowered half of the car window and turned his gaze to the red-brick and white-walled building under his feet, unconsciously a little surprised.

Eze, one of the most beautiful towns on the Mediterranean coast, is also the former residence of Li Zeyan's grandfather and grandmother.

Page 2

Since he can remember, he has often come to Eze with his mother to stay for a while. The leisurely and beautiful memories of his youth are composed of the humid sea breeze here, the touch of the ankle being drawn by the low bushes, and the moment when the eyes are filled with bright and full bouquets.

Mother always likes to go to the market in the early morning to buy a few bunches of flowers, before he gets up. He then will put the flower branches in various containers or clay pots or glasses as the way he likes.

When grandpa and grandma were still alive, they would have a richer breakfast. Although they had settled in Eze early in the morning, they still had a Chinese stomach. They wanted to eat porridge and noodles. When they passed away, breakfast becomes a little simpler, only bread, omelette, or instant cereal...

Page 3

Of course, his mother is also studying cooking seriously and wants to cook some complicated dishes for him, but progress is slow.

Although these memories became more and more blurred with his busy life, as soon as he returned here, the images of sunlight, green trees, ocean, and flowers in his mind became particularly clear.

The corners of Li Zeyan's lips showed a faint smile.

The video conference is already being connected, and Li Zeyan withdraws his gaze and sets his sights on the laptop in front of him. Soon, several young people in suits and leather shoes appeared in the meeting room. Although their hair colors were different, their pupils were different, the confident and relaxed look on his face was particularly noticeable.

Page 4

They are several industry stars recently discovered by Li Zeyan. They have been successively arranged in several venture capital companies established by Huarui overseas. In Li Zeyan's view, the times have changed. It is no longer the person in the investment department holding a bunch of industry data. In financial statements, you can easily figure out whether a company really has the stage of commercial value. They need to work hard in a field, understand every link that a student can accomplish, understand the most innovative business models, and look at all new things with suspicion and surprise.

They can contact any field they are interested in on the platform of Huarui, accumulate experience, and become Li Zeyan's eyes for exploring new tracks.

Page 5

The car drove halfway through the mountain, and the cascading sunset cast a golden glow on Li Zeyan's face, covering his smiling eyes in a warm color.

[They're talking in EN]

"Li, looks like you've got a brilliant sunset."

"It sure is."

[Back to CN]

"Isn't it Eze? It's a place worth sitting on the balcony all day."

" Indeed. "

Page 6

[Now they're talking in French]

"Better to drink good wine and appreciate the scenery."

"D'accord."

Chapter 2

Page 1

The relaxed video conference ends when the vehicle reaches the top of the mountain.

Li Zeyan got out of the car, strode forward, and a gentle breeze came towards him, messing with the strands of hair on his forehead. He fastened the suit that was blown up by the wind, took the rose bouquet from the entourage, and walked to the corner he knew.

Only a little golden light remained in the setting sun, hooked in the dark blue of the starry sky, quietly spilling on the white marble tombstone.

"mother."

Page 2

Li Zeyan put down the flowers, took out a brown handkerchief from his pocket, and knelt down to wipe the floating dust on the monument. Although there are people taking care of it every day, the tombstone is never slender. Every few days someone will come to replace a bunch of flowers, they are all taken care of and was cleaned with moisturizing liquid in the crystal vase that was placed in front of the tomb.

"Father was originally going to come over, but something happened temporarily. He asked me to bring you this bouquet of roses to make amends."

Li Zeyan slowly stood up as he spoke, looking at the sun that had completely sunk at sea level, inadvertently folded his fingers slightly, and clenched into a fist.

Page 3

On this day of the year, he will definitely take time to return to Eze. Although the schedule is tight, sometimes he can only stand in front of the grave for a short while, and has to rush to the next meeting. However, he still insists on coming in person...

His mother's death day is of extraordinary significance to him.

Li Zeyan breathed the cool air at the top of the mountain and talked about trivial matters for no reason.

"The charity project I talked to you last time is fully operational. I have found a lot of professional teachers who are willing to teach music to disabled children. Many of them have experience in caring for disabled children. Some also have a background in music schools. It should not be an issue to send gifted children to regular schools in the future-"

Page 4

"By the way, I saw the Moments two days ago. Aunt Gu said that she wants Wenwen to accept the wedding, as she has a very good boyfriend. Given her previous battles with Wenwen to urge her to marry, I think they will be urged to get the certificate soon."

" Do you remember Ronan? He went to Italy two days ago and sent me a two-meter sculpture, the sculptured piece was me.

...It is really difficult for him to spend such a large cost to let the world's best sculptor accompany him to do such boring things."

After a moment of silence, he remembered another thing.

Page 5

"Father’s favorite program "Discovering Miracles", the ratings and profitability of the last year are not good, Huarui is preparing to divest. Although it is a pity to say that, in the process of fast-forwarding, many people have been left behind, and "Discovering Miracles" is just one of them."

The hands on the dial had reached the time when Li Zeyan planned to leave, but he was standing in the dark, looking deeply at his mother's silent gravestone.

A breath of wind was quickly blown away by the night wind, and his voice became lighter while he was talking.

"All leads are broken..."

"I still didn't find her."

Page 6

After that, Li Zeyan sighed slightly emotional. He retracted his gaze from the tombstone, raised his hand to shake off a leaf hanging on the neck of his suit, and then strode away.

As if responding to his lonely back when he left, a quiet meteor suddenly struck across the endless night.

Chapter 3

Page 1

On the tarmac, Li Zeyan's private jet had been waiting for a long time. The weather tonight was good and the field of vision was wide. When boarding the plane, the captain rarely suggested that he could take a look at the sea covered with white moonlight from the porthole.

As soon as he sat down, Wei Qian walked over with his tablet computer.

"President. Regarding today's schedule, there are some parts that need your confirmation."

"First of all, the equity investment plan of the SE network video platform has been formally established. The relevant meeting is scheduled at 2 pm, and the representatives of SE will land at 12 noon, and the airport pick-up personnel have been arranged."

Page 2

"But you have promised Mr. Chen to attend his cocktail reception at 7pm on time, so the dinner after the meeting with the SE representatives..."

"Just say that we understand their hard journey, postpone the meal for one day, let them rest for the night."

"Understood. Also, Yaoxing Circus has accepted our invitation and is willing to come to Lianyu City for performances. However, they still have some doubts about the performance venue and performance permits, and they want to determine the original schedule. Is it possible to successfully obtain the performance license? Regarding this point, I have asked the relevant person in charge to prepare the materials required to apply for the license. I apply in the name of Hua Rui. I believe that it is not a big problem to get this license. So please ask the president, can you give them a positive answer directly?"

Page 3

Li Zeyan nodded faintly, and turned his sight out towards one of the porthole. The plane was flying over the city, and the star lights were gathered in his eyes. In the darker glass, a pair of eyes were also as deep as night.

"President Mr. Bao's payment for this month has passed, but he replied to this email and asked me to convey it to you."

"He said that he has only found some useful clues in the first few years before. In the last year, almost nothing was collected. He loves money very much, but he does not want to take your money for nothing. None of these investigations have yielded much. He is willing to help you do some commercial work. Business. No additional fees will be charged to you. He has a wide range of knowledge and resources. If you can find some news, you can help your friends... "

Page 4

Lao Bao's original words were "commercial espionage," and Wei Qian thought about it repeatedly before coming up with this rhetoric.

Li Zeyan couldn't help but smile faintly when thinking of Lao Bao's joking expression.

"Tell him, we don't need it for now. Hua Rui's information channels may not be less than his. Let him take money at ease and do things seriously."

Wei Qian replied in a low voice and stopped talking. The silence in the cabin was comparable to that of the night. The plane traveled steadily in the quiet, clear night, repeating the journey it had traveled countless times without moving.

Chapter 4

Page 1

Half an hour later, Li Zeyan finished shower, changed into a white bathrobe and sat on the bedroom sofa.

The red wine in the decanter has reached its best taste. Li Zeyan poured himself a half glass and tasted it, his expression was neither salty nor light. He vaguely remember that this 85-year-old Romanee-Conti seems to be a gift specially given to him by a director of Yuelai Entertainment at the auction.

At Yuelai Entertainment, Li Zeyan was tasting the wine, and a few projects that could work with them flashed in his mind, but when then changed his mind, as he puts it down.

Can wait, they are not qualified now.

Page 2

Li Zeyan leaned on the sofa, turned on the computer, and casually browsed the letters in the mailbox and the approval process.

An e-mail with the subject "Facial Structure and Profit Prospect Analysis Report" was lying on the first line of his mailbox. He clicked it in and glanced at the conclusion part 1 hastily.

According to the final data analysis, the film company’s only variety show "Discovering Miracles" lost about 80% of its audience in the last year, and its ratings ranked thirteenth (that is, third from the bottom) among the programs at the same time. At the same time, the film and television company has changed the person in charge a few months ago. The investigation showed that the person in charge had no experience in program production, company management, business negotiation, etc. before officially taking over the company. Accordingly, the venture capital department requested the president and the board of directors to suspend the continued capital injection of the company.

Page 3

Li Zeyan replied to the email with one hand with little thought: Approval of the withdrawal.

It never takes him too much time to make such a decision.

In the last two weeks, Li Zeyan has divested five companies, and this film and television company is the sixth. At the same time, he also made a lot of investment transactions, such as SE.

Huarui's capital chain is operating at a high speed, quickly responding to the market.

Page 4

Many people think that there is a gamble in this. Li Zeyan never denies that Huarui's style of offensive and never procrastinating seems too "aggressive" in the entire industry. But it doesn't matter. He knows better than anyone that the steady fight of the so-called industry giants is just a strategy that has to be adopted without an efficient business promotion mechanism and redundant management structure.

In a few years, perhaps Huarui will do the same.

But it doesn't matter, before that, he will lay the best foundation for Huarui, so that Huarui can still maintain active and vigorous vitality in the continuous expansion.

Page 5

After drinking the red wine in the glass in one sip, Li Zeyan pressed the sleep mode on the remote control, the light-shielding plate slowly fell, and the surrounding lights dimmed a little bit. He walked into the bathroom again to brush his teeth and wash to end the busy day.

This night, Li Zeyan had a deep dream.

In the time of emptiness, countless spots of light flowed slowly between his fingers. He tried to hold one or two in the house, but every time he made a fist and opened it, his palm was empty. Someone was smiling in front of him, her long light brown hair was slightly curly, and the corners of her lips were slightly raised with a smile, that was his mother. She smiled at him, her eyes calm and gentle, as if looking at a unique treasure in the world. She seemed to be asking something, but she also seemed to be just smile quietly.

He couldn't keep up with her.

Page 6

He knew that he had been waiting for a long time in a strange vortex, but who was he waiting for?

The indicator light on the wing is not clear in the thick night, the whole continent under the clouds is sleeping, and the time is as quiet as stopping, freezing the whole world at this moment.

In the sky, the stars are shining, and the whole Milky Way witnesses him breathing while in a dream.

Page 7

In the same deep dream, a girl was holding a mobile phone with a flashing light in her arms, and she was talking indifferently in a drowsy sleep.

As the two ends of the world are finally connected, the trajectory that continues to move forward is quietly changed.

The smoothly moving plane passed the sunrise scenery on the horizon.

The light-shielding board was slowly raised in accordance with the program instructions, and the first ray of sunlight in the morning shone into the porthole, covering Li Zeyan's bed.

Chapter 5

Page 1

Li Zeyan originally planned to go directly to Hua Rui, but halfway through, he received a message that Mr. Cai said that he had committed rheumatism and wanted to ask him for two days off.

He was a little worried, and after hesitating a little, he decided to visit.

Coincidentally, it was close to the meal time when he went to visit. The elderly eat early, and the house is full of plants when he enters the door. Mrs. Cai said that it would keep her down for a casual meal. He couldn't refuse the meal, so she took over the dishes.

Li Zeyan held a bowl straight at his waist, eating, and asking about Mr. Cai's condition. He had already arranged for a doctor to follow up for Mr. Cai before he finished the meal.

Page 2

Mr. Cai was grateful, and remembered some gossip he had seen on the Internet before, "I saw a lot of people commenting about the restaurants on the Internet. You must have seen it, manager, don’t keep it to your heart."

Li Zeyan smiled, he did not expect Mr. Cai to comfort him in return, "Mr. Cai, I never care what they think, how the restaurant wants to operate, I have always been aware of this, please rest assured. You can rest in peace in these two days. According to what I just said, Souvenir will be out of business for a week. Firstly, see what the doctor says."

Mr. Cai pounded his long-painful knee with a smile on his face, "I am old and useless. You don't have to do it for me"

Li Zeyan remarks "It's nothing"

Page 3

Then Mrs. Cai silently took a thin blanket from the living room to cover her husband. The two couples looked at each other for a short time, and said nothing. They still followed the topic just now and started talking cheerfully. The restaurant diners praised the manager’s craftsmanship.

Li Zeyan took the scene in his eyes, and a faint smile flicked across his lips.

After finishing light meal with a cup of tea, Li Zeyan did not want to disturb the couple too much, and left after that.

When he came, the weather was fine, the sun was fragile, and there was a leisurely sunny day scenery. Unexpectedly, when Li Zeyan walked to the intersection across the street from Huarui, there was both the sun and rain.

Page 4

He thought of the evening reception, thinking about whether to let Wei Qian bring him a clean suit. At this moment, a petite girl suddenly stood in front of him.

The green light on the crosswalk turned red just after the countdown, the vehicles coming from a distance did not slow down at all, and the girl was still standing in the middle of the road slowly, not aware of the coming danger!

It happened too suddenly, and two rapid bangs rang out.

Page 5

Li Zeyan's expression between his eyebrows changed slightly, and all the noise around him stopped in the moment.

He took a step forward and held her in his arms.

The girl stared at him with stunned eyes.

"Evolver?"

When time stands still, raindrops hover in the air, he also stopped his gaze.

[verifiedaccount]

25 more movies (and one miniseries) you can watch on youtube

I posted 11 movies that are on youtube yesterday (Part 1) but since things are really starting to get shut down here’s more worthwhile movies and a miniseries you can watch for free on youtube right now

Leave Her To Heaven (1945): Gene Tierney is Ellen, a woman whose only crime is “loving too much,” and also all the other crimes she commits to make sure there are no competitors for husband Cornel Wilde’s affections in John M. Stahl’s incredibly lurid and entertaining technicolor melodrama.

M (1931): Fritz Lang’s masterpiece is the basis for every subsequent movie about hunting a serial killer and it’s still the best one.

The Naked Kiss (1964): Here’s the jacket copy from Criterion: “The setup is pure pulp: A former prostitute (a crackerjack Constance Towers) relocates to a buttoned-down suburb, determined to fit in with mainstream society. But in the strange, hallucinatory territory of writer-director-producer Samuel Fuller, perverse secrets simmer beneath the wholesome surface. Featuring radical visual touches, full-throttle performances, brilliant cinematography by Stanley Cortez, and one bizarrely beautiful musical number, The Naked Kiss is among Fuller’s greatest, boldest entertainments.”

Underworld USA (1961): Dave Kehr on the film: “Sam Fuller's harsh, obsessional 1960 crime drama is narrated in the style of a comic book gone berserk. Cliff Robertson is the neurotic hero, bent on avenging his father's death by infiltrating and destroying a crime syndicate that operates under the redolent name “National Projects.” Corruption is all-pervasive in this vision of America, and Fuller disturbingly suggests that only a madman can make a difference. One image from Underworld—of a heavy striking straight at the camera—prompted Jean-Luc Godard to describe Fuller's films as “cinema-fist.” There is no more apt phrase.”

Pickup on South Street (1953): Another Sam Fuller. Here’s Georgia Hubley of Yo La Tengo on the film: “Richard Widmark manages to portray himself as twisted, conniving, pathological, sleazy, tragic, vulnerable, and handsome all at once in most of the movies I’ve seen him in, and never more exquisitely than in this, one of my favorite film noirs.“

Journey to Italy (1954): Richard Brody on the film: “One of the most quietly revolutionary works in the history of cinema, Roberto Rossellini’s third feature starring Ingrid Bergman (his wife at the time), from 1953, turns romantic melodrama into intellectual adventure. [...] From Rossellini’s example, the young French New Wave critics learned to fuse studio style with documentary methods, and to make high-relief drama on a low budget.” 

The Spook Who Sat By The Door (1973): A satirical thriller based on the Sam Greenlee novel about the CIA recruiting a token black agent who quickly realizes they have no intention of letting him advance to a meaningful position and decides to head back to Chicago to teach the black revolutionaries all the latest guerrilla warfare tactics. Despite playing to packed houses the film was quickly pulled from theaters with little explanation and remained out of circulation until a DVD was issued in 2004.  

The Big Combo (1955): Dave Kehr’s capsule: “This 1955 film noir borders on total abstraction for most of its length and then achieves it in an astonishing final scene—a shoot-out in the fog that suggests an armed and dangerous Michelangelo Antonioni. Where the usual noir takes place in a nightmare world, this one seems to inhabit a dream: there's no longer fear in the images, but rather a distanced, idealized beauty. With Cornel Wilde, Jean Wallace, Brian Donlevy, and Richard Conte; the director is Joseph H. Lewis (Gun Crazy).”

The Stranger (1946): Orson Welles’s film concerns an FBI agent (Edward G. Robinson) tracking Nazi war criminals whose search takes him to a small Connecticut town where the local schoolteacher (Orson Welles) is not what he seems. It’s the most conventional Welles film, reportedly intended to prove he could turn in a movie on time and on budget, but it’s still plenty entertaining.

F For Fake (1973): Orson Welles documentary/essay/whatsit about forgers and frauds, specifically Elmyr de Hory, who became famous as an art forger because instead of forging existing paintings he painted new ones in the style of famous artists, and Clifford Irving, who wrote a best-selling book on Elmyr and then was busted for a fraud of his own, the fake Howard Hughes autobiography. A wildly enjoyable, incredibly edited, one of a kind mindbender.

Citizen Kane (1941): It’s Citizen Kane. You just have to put up with hardcoded Korean subs.

Detour (1945): Roger Ebert on the film: “Detour is a movie so filled with imperfections that it would not earn the director a passing grade in film school. This movie from Hollywood's poverty row, shot in six days, filled with technical errors and ham-handed narrative, starring a man who can only pout and a woman who can only sneer, should have faded from sight soon after it was released in 1945. And yet it lives on, haunting and creepy, an embodiment of the guilty soul of film noir. No one who has seen it has easily forgotten it.”

A Woman Under The Influence (1974): Dave Kehr: “John Cassavetes's 1974 masterpiece, and one of the best films of its decade. Cassavetes stretches the limits of his narrative—it's the story of a married couple, with the wife hedging into madness—to the point where it obliterates the narrator: it's one of those extremely rare movies that seem found rather than made, in which the internal dynamics of the drama are completely allowed to dictate the shape and structure of the film. The lurching, probing camera finds the same fascination in moments of high drama and utter triviality alike—and all of those moments are suspended painfully, endlessly. Still, Cassavetes makes the viewer's frustration work as part of the film's expressiveness; it has an emotional rhythm unlike anything else I've ever seen.”

Opening Night (1977): Another Cassavetes masterpiece, again starring the great Gena Rowlands, with Gena as an actress mentally disintegrating as she tries to prepare for an upcoming play. Easier to start with this one than A Woman Under The Influence. Richard Brody on the film: “Though there isn’t a movie camera anywhere to be seen—and Cassavetes, with his tightly sculpted, uninhibitedly intimate images, is a master of the camera—Opening Night captures with astonishment and boundless admiration the uninhibited ferocity of the art that brings life onto the screen. (In fact, Cassavetes had originally planned to take the role of the play’s director.) It’s one of the greatest tributes ever paid by a director to an actress.“

Magnificent Obsession (1954): It’s not necessarily Douglas Sirk’s best technicolor melodrama but this adaptation of Lloyd C. Douglas’s ridiculous bestseller is the most melodramatic one. From Cine-File: “Produced in the wake of Henry Koster's CinemaScope adaptation of Douglas' THE ROBE, Sirk's 1954 remake of MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION is, by any standard, an absolutely batshit movie. (It's the kind of film where a lecture about the radical power of kindness compares the crucifixion of Christ to the act of turning on a light bulb.)  It's not so much an adaptation of Douglas as a third-hand amplification of his aura. "Ross Hunter gave me the book," Sirk recalled, "and I tried to read it, but I just couldn't. It is the most confused book you can imagine.” As Geoffrey O'Brien asserts in his essay for the film's Criterion release, Sirk earnestly examines that which he admits to finding absurd, forcing such questions as, "What if this weren't crazy? What if it were real? What sort of a world would that be, and how different would it be from the one we inhabit?" Therein lies the genius of Sirk's glorious melodrama, one certainly worth seeing in all its Technicolor magnificence.

All That Heaven Allows (1955): Geoff Andrew on the film: “On the surface a glossy tearjerker about the problems besetting a love affair between an attractive middle class widow and her younger, 'bohemian' gardener, Sirk's film is in fact a scathing attack on all those facets of the American Dream widely held dear. Wealth produces snobbery and intolerance; family togetherness creates xenophobia and the cult of the dead; cosy kindness can be stultifyingly patronising; and materialism results in alienation from natural feelings. Beneath the stunningly lovely visuals - all expressionist colours, reflections, and frames-within-frames, used to produce a precise symbolism - lies a kernel of terrifying despair created by lives dedicated to respectability and security, given its most harrowing expression when Wyman, having given up her affair with Hudson in order to protect her children from gossip, is presented with a television set as a replacement companion. Hardly surprising that Fassbinder chose to remake the film as Fear Eats the Soul.“

Written on the Wind (1956): Dave Kehr:  “One of the most remarkable and unaccountable films ever made in Hollywood, Douglas Sirk's 1957 masterpiece turns a lurid, melodramatic script into a screaming Brechtian essay on the shared impotence of American family and business life. Sirk's highly imaginative use of color—to accent, undermine, and sometimes even nullify the drama—remains years ahead of contemporary technique. The degree of stylization is high and impeccable: one is made to understand the characters as icons as well as psychologically complex creations.“

His Girl Friday (1940): Geoff Andrew’s capsule: “Charles Lederer’s frantic script needs to be heard at least a dozen times for all the gags to be caught; Russell’s Hildy more than equals Burns in cunning and speed; and Hawks transcends the piece’s stage origins effortlessly, framing with brilliance, conducting numerous conversations simultaneously, and even allowing the film’s political and emotional thrust to remain upfront alongside the laughs. Quite simply a masterpiece.“

Bringing Up Baby (1938): Ignatiy Vishnevetsky on the film: “Possessed by an overwhelming sense of comic energy, Howard Hawks’ screwball masterpiece heaps on misunderstandings, misadventures, perfectly timed jokes, and patter to the point that it’s easy to overlook how rich and fluid it is a piece of filmmaking, effortlessly transitioning from one thing into the next.”

Underworld (1927): Dave Kehr: “The first full-fledged gangster movie and still an effective mood piece, this 1927 milestone was directed by the master of delirious melodrama, Josef von Sternberg. George Bancroft is the hard-boiled hero, granted tragic status in his final sacrifice. Ben Hecht wrote the script, and many of the same ideas turn up, in a very different moral context, in his screenplay for Howard Hawks's 1932 masterpiece, Scarface.“

Q - The Winged Serpent (1982): In Larry Cohen’s cheapo classic, Quetzelcoatl terrorizes New York. Michael Moriarty plays a bumbling, unlucky small time crook (the robbery he participates in goes hilariously wrong; losing the keys to the getaway car is just the start) who accidentally discovers the monster’s nest and realizes he’s stumbled into the opportunity of a lifetime. He’s willing to help the authorities, including cops played by David Carradine and Richard Roundtree, but they’re gonna have to pay for it. Very goofy and very fun.

Stalag 17 (1953): Billy Wilder’s classic mixes POW drama with comedy as a group of prisoners in a German POW camp try to figure out who in their barracks is a rat while they plan their escape.

Hellzapoppin (1941): Ignatiy Vishnevetsky:  “The opening reel may be the most manic stretch of go-for-broke gonzo comedy to come out of studio-era Hollywood, with the zoot-suited duo of Olsen and Johnson introduced tumbling out of a New York taxi into the bowels of hell (“That’s the first taxi driver that ever went straight where I told him to!”) in the midst of a musical number about how “Anything can happen / And it probably will.” Dozens of throwaway gags—including the first Citizen Kane reference in film history—and an argument with the projectionist (once and future Stooge Shemp Howard) follow, before the movie snaps into something vaguely resembling sanity. From there, Hellzapoppin’ finds Olsen and Johnson wandering in and out of a musical comedy that’s seems to be on the verge of falling apart and tussling with such comedy ringers as Martha Raye and Mischa Auer, the latter cast as a real Russian nobleman who’s trying to pass as a fake Russian nobleman. It’s like a Marx Brothers movie playing at triple speed; it eludes easy summary—it’s a real “you have to see it to believe it” kind of movie—and often stretches the limits of the Production Code. True to its absurdist sensibility, Hellzapoppin’ ended up getting nominated for an Oscar by mistake, for a song that doesn’t appear in the movie.” 

Outrage (1950): Directed and cowritten by Ida Lupino, this was one of the first Hollywood movies after the implementation of the production code to deal with rape and one of the first to tackle its psychological aftermath (the censor office actually made them take the word “rape” out of the script so it’s never uttered in the film). Richard Broday on the film: “Outrage is a special artistic achievement. Lupino approaches the subject of rape with a wide view of the societal tributaries that it involves. She integrates an inward, deeply compassionate depiction of a woman who is the victim of rape with an incisive view of the many societal failures that contribute to the crime, including legal failure to face the prevalence of rape, and the over-all prudishness and sexual censoriousness that make the crime unspeakable in the literal sense and end up shaming the victim. Above all, she reveals a profound understanding of the widespread and unquestioned male aggression that women face in ordinary and ostensibly non-violent and consensual courtship.“

The Hitch-Hiker (1953): Another Ida Lupino joint, this one a lean and mean film noir. J. Hoberman on the film: “The “Hitch-Hiker” script, written (uncredited) by the socially conscious journalist Daniel Mainwaring, was inspired by an actual case: Two buddies (Frank Lovejoy and Edmond O’Brien) pick up a murderous psychopath (William Talman) who forces them to drive him to Mexico. It’s a brutal story handled by Ms. Lupino, one of Hollywood’s very few female directors, with the same steely determination and emotional sensitivity found in her strongest performances.”

And the miniseries:

The Singing Detective (1986): Here’s the entry from the BBC’s list of the top 100 British television programs, where it placed number 20: “For many Potter's masterpiece, this extended six-part filmed drama series mixes flashback and fantasy to create a psychological profile of a writer of detective fiction hospitalised by a crippling skin disease. Though not, the writer stressed, autobiographical, the drama features many elements from both Potter's own life (the disease, the childhood setting) and his body of work (particularly the use of popular music from the war years). As usual with Potter, it also caused controversy at the time for the frankness of its sex scenes, though its position as one of the most challenging and inventive of all TV dramas is secure.“

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Shortcuts Chapter 8

Author Note: I don’t know if anybody noticed the Fantasia reference in the last chapter, but the magic brooms trying to flood the school was a reference to the Sorcerer's Apprentice released as part of Disney’s Fantasia in 1940. To understand what Emira was dealing with, watch the original here. Another great one is Rhapsody in Blue from Fantasia 2000. It’s fantastic.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

__________________________________________________________

Emira stood in front of her destination, scanning the windows and rooftop for any alternate entrances. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any. Perhaps she could avoid scrutiny if she snuck in, though that was a long shot. There were plenty of people inside who could notice her and kick her out, which they certainly would.

She’d been banned from the library for a good reason after all.

But now she really needed to go there. Watching Viney perform her new spell and been inspiring and Emira wanted to help her, but without doing some research it wouldn’t be possible.

She had no idea what kind of spell she could use to enhance the magic. Emira had asked the illusion track teacher what they thought about a spell that could be used to extend or enhance other spells, but they said there were so many that might or might not work for what Emira wanted and suggested that she do some research.

This left Emira with no choice, if she wanted to help then she would need to look in books. That meant the library.

The problem was, there was no way she’d be allowed inside. By her estimate, the odds of getting past the front desk were about 5 percent. She had known that before she walked all the way there, and she was willing to take those odds. Helping Viney with her spell was worth it.

Shaking her doubts away, Emira put on her best confident smile and walked up the stairs to the library entrance. She opened the door and went inside, closing it gently behind her. She held her head high, making sure not to look at the head librarian behind the counter, and walked past the front desk. Perhaps if she acted like she belonged he would just let her go. That was wishful thinking.

“Excuse me Ms. Blight.” The head librarian called to her in a stern tone, causing her to stop mid step. She turned her head to look at him. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He said, gesturing to a small poster on the wall behind him with the Blight twins’ faces on it and the word banned written over them in red ink.

Emira made sure her smile didn’t slip as she turned and approached the counter. “Good afternoon.” She made a point of being polite, pretending she hadn’t just been trying to walk past without being noticed. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay and do some reading.”

“It isn’t.” The librarian replied bluntly, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I need to do some research for a spell, and this is the best place in the Boiling Isles to do it.” Emira tried talking up the library a little, then switched her tactic. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

The librarian’s firm expression slipped slightly, as if he were considering it. “Your brother isn’t here, is he?”

���No, he’s not.” Emira replied firmly. Ed always caused more trouble than her; it was a good decision not to bring him today.

The librarian thought about it for a moment, then sighed once. “Fine, but if you cause so much as a wink of trouble you’ll never set foot in this building again.” Phew, that was a relief. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he hadn’t let her in.

Now Emira was genuinely smiling. “Thank you so much!” She was about to walk away, but realized that she had only ever spent time playing pranks here, not actually reading books, so she had no idea where to even start looking. “Where can I find books on casting illusion magic?”

The librarian leaned forward to point at a set of stairs to the right. “Go up those stairs, then make a left and go straight until you reach the last row of bookshelves.”

Emira thanked him again, then went to do just that. She could feel his gaze on her back as she climbed the stairs and turned left. She walked that way until she reached the last set of shelves, then turned in to look for something she could use.

Just as the librarian said, the shelves were full of books about illusion magic. An overwhelming number of them, in fact. She skimmed the titles, taking a few that could be relevant. She stuck with broader topics to start. Quickly, her arms were full of books. Emira took her pile out of the row of bookshelves and over to a nearby table, where she sat down and got to work.

The first book was a general overview text of types of illusion magic. Emira thought it would be a good place to start, since she wasn’t really sure how to find the information she was looking for and this could give her some ideas. She opened to the table of contents, looking to see which type might fit best for enhancing the power of other spells. There was a chapter on layering illusions together, so Emira flipped to that page to start there.

She read through the pages, one by one, looking for any info that could help her. Reading this reminded her of how much she hated studying, but she was determined to stick with it.

Emira had only been reading for about ten minutes when someone approached her. She didn’t notice them until they spoke.

“Emira?” There was no mistaking the voice behind her; Mittens had found her. “What are you doing here?” She asked in a high tone, sounding like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Emira turned her head to look at her. Mittens was carrying her school bag and had a concerned look on her face. “Doing some research.” Emira answered the question honestly. She patted the chair next to her to invite Mittens to sit down.

“Really?” Mittens joined her at the table, putting her bag on the ground and sitting down in the chair. “That’s not like you.”

“I know, I’m not usually allowed in here.” Emira chuckled.

Mittens nodded, gesturing towards the front of the building. “That must be why the librarian told me to look out for trouble.”

“Good work catching me.” Emira winked, bringing a slight smile to Mittens face. “I really am here to look things up though.”

“What are you trying to find?” Mittens asked, shifting to a more serious expression.

Maybe Mittens could help her find the right books, or direct her to a different section of the library if she was looking in the wrong place. “One of my friends, Viney, she’s one of the multi track students if you remember, is working on developing a spell.” Emira had started speaking strong, but this was surprisingly embarrassing to talk about. She could feel her face warming as she continued. “I want to help her enhance it with illusion magic, so I’m researching what kind of spell might work.”

Mittens’ eyes were narrowed as she turned it over in her mind. “What does the spell do?”

“Give a beast temporary healing abilities. Right now, she can apply the spell and it heals once. The problem is, it wears off after one use and isn’t as strong as it should be.” That was the easiest way to explain it.

“Hmm.” Mittens brought her hand to her chin as she thought. Emira could practically see the gears turning. “So you want to meld multiple types of magic, specifically to let a beast carry a healing spell effectively.”

“That’s right.”

Mittens turned her eyes to the pile of books Emira had gathered. “Those books are too broad to help with that.”

Emira had figured, but didn’t know where else to start. “Could you help me find better ones?” She asked. Mittens spent a lot of time reading and Emira trusted her to know what she was doing.

Her sister nodded. “I’ll go look.” She rose from her chair, then walked back towards the same bookshelves Emira had been looking at before. While she was gone, Emira skimmed through the rest of the chapter she had been reading. She didn’t want to miss anything if it was going to be useful.

It wasn’t very useful, and by the time she had finished Mittens was on her way back with a couple books in her hands. Emira closed the book and put it back on top of the pile.

“Here you go.” Mittens put the books in front of her. “This first one examines theories in magnifying spell power through perception. The second is studies on ways to make spells last longer after being cast.” Leave it to Mittens to find just the right books.

“They’re perfect.” Emira stood for a moment to give Mittens a quick hug. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

Mittens averted her gaze as she pulled back from the embrace. “Glad I could help.” She said, and then picked her bag up off the ground. “I have to get going, it’s almost story time. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I’m sure I will.” Emira then said goodbye and waved as Mittens turned to walk away. Once Mittens was out of sight, she opened the book about magnifying spell power and got back to work.

She tried not to think about how many hours it might’ve taken her to find this book on her own, and thanked Mittens again in her head.

Emira stayed at the library for another couple of hours. She found some interesting information in the first book, and some even better stuff in the second. She went to put the first set of books she got away and found another one that would help.

By the time she left the library, Emira had a good idea of how to fix the spell. She checked the three books out of the library to keep working on it. Though the reading had been tough, she’d had a productive couple of hours and was optimistic that the spell would work.

She would perfect it and practice at home so that she could get it just right, and then show Viney when it was ready.

It was going to be great.

_________________________________________________________

End Note: I’ve missed writing these two together.

Next Chapter

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#3yrsago Weapons of Math Destruction: invisible, ubiquitous algorithms are ruining millions of lives

I've been writing about the work of Cathy "Mathbabe" O'Neil for years: she's a radical data-scientist with a Harvard PhD in mathematics, who coined the term "Weapons of Math Destruction" to describe the ways that sloppy statistical modeling is punishing millions of people every day, and in more and more cases, destroying lives. Today, O'Neil brings her argument to print, with a fantastic, plainspoken, call to arms called (what else?)  Weapons of Math Destruction.

Discussions about big data's role in our society tends to focus on algorithms, but the algorithms for handling giant data sets are all well understood and work well. The real issue isn't algorithms, it's models. Models are what you get when you feed data to an algorithm and ask it to make predictions. As O'Neil puts it, "Models are opinions embedded in mathematics."

Other critical data scientists, like Patrick Ball from the Human Rights Data Analysis Group have located their critique in the same place. As Patrick once explained to me, you can train an algorithm to predict someone's height from their weight, but if your whole training set comes from a grade three class, and anyone who's self-conscious about their weight is allowed to skip the exercise, your model will predict that most people are about four feet tall. The problem isn't the algorithm, it's the training data and the lack of correction when the model produces erroneous conclusions.

Like Ball, O'Neil is enthusiastic about the power of data-driven modelling to be a force for good in the world, and like Ball, she despairs at the way that sloppy statistical work can produce gigantic profits for a few companies at the expense of millions of people -- all with the veneer of mathematical objectivity.

O'Neil calls these harmful models "Weapons of Math Destruction," and not all fault models qualify. For a model to be a WMD, it must be opaque to its subjects, harmful to their interests, and grow exponentially to run at huge scale.

These WMDs are now everywhere. The sleazy for-profit educational system has figured out how to use models to identify desperate people and sucker them into signing up for expensive, useless "educations" that are paid for with punitive student loans, backed by the federal government. That's how the University of Phoenix can be so profitable, even after spending upwards of $1B/year on marketing. They've built a WMD that brings students in at a steady clip despite the fact that they spend $2,225/student in marketing and only $892/student on instruction. Meanwhile, the high-efficacy, low-cost community colleges are all but invisible in the glare and roar of the University of Phoenix's marketing blitzkreig.

One highly visible characteristic of WMDs is their lack of feedback and tuning. In sports, teams use detailed statistical models to predict which athletes they should bid on, and to deploy those athletes when squaring off against opposing teams. But after the predicted event has occurred, the teams update their models to account for their failings. If you pass on a basketball player who goes to glory for a rival team, you update your model to help you do better in the next draft.

Compare this with the WMDs used against us in everyday life. The largest employers in America use commercial services to run their incoming resumes against a model of a "successful" worker. These models hold your employment future in their hands. If one rejects you and you go on to do brilliant work somewhere else, that fact is never used to refine the model. Everyone loses: job-seekers are arbitrarily excluded from employment, and employers miss out on great hires. Only the WMD merchants in the middle make out like bandits.

It's worth asking how we got here. Many forms of WMD were deployed as an answer to institutional bias -- in criminal sentencing, in school grading, in university admissions, in hiring and lending. The models are supposed to be race- and gender-blind, blind to privilege and connections.

But all too often, the models are trained with the biased data. The picture of a future successful Ivy League student or loan repayer is painted using data-points from the admittedly biased history of the institutions. All the Harvard grads or dutiful mortgage payers are fed to the algorithm, which dutifully predicts that tomorrow's Harvard alums and prime loan recipients will look just like yesterday's -- but now the bias gets the credibility of seeming objectivity.

This training problem is well known in stats, but largely ignored by WMD dealers. Companies that run their own Big Data initiatives, by contrast, are much more careful about refining their models. Amazon carefully tracks those customers who abandon their shopping carts, or who stop shopping after a couple of purchases. Their interested in knowing everything they can about "recidivism" among shoppers, and they combine statistical modelling with anthropology -- seeking out and talking to their subjects -- to improve their system.

The contrast with automated sentencing software -- now widely used in the US judicial system, and spreading rapidly around the world -- could not be more stark. Like Amazon's data scientists, the companies that sell sentencing apps are trying to predict recidivism, and their predictions can send one person to prison for decades and let another go free.

These brokers are training their model on the corrupted data of the past. They look at the racialized sentencing outcomes of the past -- the outcomes that sent young black men to prison for years for minor crack possession, while letting rich white men walk away from cocaine possession charges -- and conclude that people from poor neighborhoods, whose family members and friends have had run-ins with the law, and "predict" that this person will reoffend, and recommend long sentences to keep them away from society.

Unlike Amazon, these companies aren't looking to see whether longer sentences cause recidivism (by causing emotional damage and social isolation) and how prison beatings, solitary confinement and prison rape are related to the phenomenon. If the prison system was run like Amazon -- that is, with a commitment to reducing reoffending, rather than enriching justice-system contractors and satisfying revenge-hungry bigots in the electorate -- it would probably look like a Nordic prison: humane, sparsely populated, and oriented toward rehabilitation, addiction treatment, job training, and psychological counselling.

WMDs have transformed education for teachers and students. In the 1980s, the Reagan administration seized on a report called A Nation at Risk, which claimed that the US was on the verge of collapse due to its falling SAT scores. This was the starter-pistol for an all-out assault on teachers and public education, which continues to this day.

The most visible expression of this is the "value added" assessment of teachers, which uses a battery of standardized tests to assess teachers' performance from year to year. The statistical basis for these assessments is laughable (statistics work on big numbers, not classes of 25 kids -- assessments can swing 90% from one year to the next, making them no better than random number generators). Teachers -- good teachers, committed teachers -- lose their jobs over these tests.

Students, meanwhile, are taken away from real learning in order to take more and more tests, and those tests -- which are supposed to measure "aptitude" and thus shouldn't be amenable to expensive preparatory services -- determine their whole futures.

The Nation at Risk report that started it all turned out to be bullshit, by the way -- grounded in another laughable statistical error. Sandia Labs later audited the findings from the report and found that the researchers had failed to account for the ballooning number of students who were taking the SATs, bringing down the average score.

In other words: SATs were falling because more American kids were confident enough to try to go to college: the educational system was working so well that young people who would never have taken an SAT were taking it, and the larger pool of test-takers was bringing the average score down.

WMDs turn the whole of human life into a game of Search Engine Optimization. With SEO, merchants hire companies who claim to have reverse-engineered Google's opaque model and whose advice will move your URL further  up in its ranking.

When you pay someone thousands of dollars to prep your kid for the SATs, or to improve your ranking with the "e-score" providers that determine your creditworthiness, jobworthiness, or mortgageworthiness, you're recreating SEO, but for everything. It's a grim picture of the future: WMD makers and SEO experts locked in an endless arms-race to tweak their models to game one another, and all the rest of us being subjected to automated caprice or paying ransom to escape it (for now). In that future, we're all the product, not the customer (much less the citizen).

O'Neil's work is so important because she believes in data science. Algorithms can and will be used to locate people in difficulty: teachers with hard challenges, people in financial distress, people who are struggling in their jobs, students who need educational attention. It's up to us whether we use that information to exclude and further victimize those people, or help them with additional resources

Credit bureaux, e-scorers, and other entities that model us create externalities in the form of false positives -- from no-fly lists to credit-score errors to job score errors that cost us our careers. These errors cost them nothing to make, and something to fix -- and they're incredibly expensive to us. Like all negative externalities, the cost of cleaning them up (rehabilitating your job, finding a new home, serving a longer prison sentence, etc) is much higher than the savings to the firms, but we bear the costs and they reap the savings.

It's E Pluribus Unum reversed: models make many out of one, pigeonholing each of us as members of groups about whom generalizations -- often punitive ones (such as variable pricing) can be made.

Modelling won't go away: as a tool for guiding caring and helpful remedial systems, models are amazing. As a tool for punishing and disenfranchising, they are a nightmare. The choice is ours to make. O'Neil's book is a vital crash-course in the specialized kind of statistical knowledge we all need to interrogate the systems around us and demand better.

 Weapons of Math Destruction [Cathy O'Neil/Crown]

https://boingboing.net/2016/09/06/weapons-of-math-destruction-i.html

[audliminal]

Broken Lines, Shattered Souls

Chapter 2 of 4

I posted this on Ao3 last week but forgot to post it here too, like a fool. But I’m back with chapter two y’all!

Wordcount: 4916   Pairing: Eventual LAMP   (link to AO3)

Warnings for this chapter: Insomnia, self-hatred, depression, self-destructive behavior. Also contains a vague description of a car accident/hospital stay. It’s hurt-comfort, so... y’know.

Roman has two parents and they love him. He knows they do, even though they never really say it in so many words. He knows because they show him, because they go to his theatre performances, and because they look at his report card and smile proudly, even though it’s far from perfect. They love him because he is their son, and he knows it.

Roman knows his parents love him, because they show it; because they make his favorite foods when he’s feeling bad, and because they’re always willing to plan their weeks around Roman’s performances, no matter how big or small they are. Roman knows they love him, even as they scold him for still being up, when the red of his alarm clock is blinking back some ridiculous time -and how is it 2:30 am already? - and fret over his slipping grades. He knows that his parents love him more than anything in the world, but they also don’t understand him.

They don’t understand him when they make their quiet little comments about how he should be focusing on schoolwork, even as he works on his stories and drawings, as he works on his biggest passions. He knows this because they never know how to compliment him in the lobby after performances (all they ever have to say is “wow, your part had so many lines”). Roman is the child of an engineer and a nurse, and they do not understand the artistic passions that drive their son’s life.

Most of the time, Roman is fine with this. He knows that his family can’t be expected to understand everything he cares about, but still, it hurts when they stare blankly in the face of his enthusiasm, and it hurts when he gets so little praise for the parts of his life that he truly cares about, where he’s putting all his effort.

That’s how Roman meets his boyfriend, after all, desperate for a tutor, desperate for someone to help him bring his grades up. He wants nothing more than to impress his parents, to show them his report card and smile, not in a consoling way, but in the surprised way of somebody who’s truly been shown something amazing. And Logan is practically a genius, so of course, it’ll work, and then it turns out that they get along so well, and he has such pretty eyes that Roman can’t help asking him out.

Roman wasn’t really expecting him to say yes.

But Logan does say yes, and they go on dates and it’s so much fun, and Roman’s acquisition (and indeed choice) of a boyfriend seems to impress his parents even more, and it’s so great because Logan is everything his parents are, and more. Logan is smart and dedicated, and he cares about things like math and science. But he also understands literature and has strong opinions on Shakespeare, and they disagree on so many things, but that’s okay because at least Logan cares. And Logan always finds something interesting to comment on when he comes to Roman’s performances.

And of course, Roman isn’t able to date Logan for very long without getting to know Patton, who’s Logan’s best friend, so he ends up not only getting a boyfriend out of the deal but also a best friend, because really, Patton is one of the kindest people in the world and Roman loves him near immediately.

And when they’re all together, things seem mostly perfect, and Roman is happy and relaxed and feels like the world is his to conquer. But at night he goes home and sits in his bedroom, all alone, trying to balance the weight of his parents’ dreams as well as his own, and if the effort leaves him a bit tired in the morning, well, sometimes these things are necessary. It isn’t like sleep comes easily for him anyways, and his parents are always saying that if he isn’t going to go to bed, he might as well be doing something productive (the fact that they’re usually talking about doing chores isn’t important).

Things change a bit in the summer before senior year, though, as they find out about Patton’s changing soulmark and the horrifying self-hatred he’s harboring that they somehow both missed. It’s shocking and it hurts because Roman knows so well how Patton must feel, so he dives into the work of distracting his friend, even as Logan pushes himself harder and harder to find the answers to counter Patton’s self-hatred. There’s talk of therapy, but they’re all still teenagers and don’t know the first thing about bringing it up to parents, so in the meantime, Roman makes a vow to support his best friend as best he possibly can. Roman’s own schoolwork starts to fall out of priority, and the looks on his teachers' faces betray their concern, but every smile Roman manages to coax out of Patton makes it all feel more than worth it.

Still, this isn’t a balance that Roman can maintain forever, and he catches the time on his clock growing later every night when he finally makes it to bed.

So Roman starts to arrive at school every day, bleary-eyed and wishing he could get just a few more hours sleep but he ignores the weight in his eyelids and powers through his classes, determined to ignore the parts of his brain that are screaming for soft pillows and warm blankets.

Of course, sometimes Roman slips and zones out, and misses his teachers saying important things, or he loses track of his conversations with Logan and Patton, but Logan is always there to fill in the gaps of his notes, and neither of his friends seems inclined to say anything when his mind starts to drift. So, it’s easy enough to ignore the tugging at his eyes. And if Logan seems to get a bit annoyed when Roman struggles to wrap his mind around basic math concepts, well, is it too horrible if Logan just thinks Roman is dumb? He is dating Roman, after all, and the thing is, Roman knows that Patton and Logan aren’t going to be around forever. They all have hopes and dreams, and he and Logan may be dating, but they aren’t soulmates, after all, so neither of them has any real reason to stick around forever, even if Roman finds himself dreading the thought of them leaving. Life, after all, has a sort of impermanence to it, and Roman can hardly count on them to stay with him when even his own parents have a wildly different idea of who he should be.

So Roman does his best to cherish their time together while they still have it, and when Logan and Patton start talking about colleges to apply to, he smiles, even as the image of all of them in wildly different places fills him with an unfamiliar feeling.

“I mean, I’d absolutely love to go to Julliard, but I’m not really good enough, so…” Roman finds himself answering, the very thought of himself making it into Julliard drawing a brief strain of hope out of him. Beside him, Logan hums and looks down at his notebook.

“So, you’re planning on majoring in drama, then?” and Roman watches as Logan sifts through papers, and then he’s pulling out three sheets of paper and handing one to each of them. Roman examines the paper, startled to find a table of colleges, with a series of checkmarks beside them. At the top, all three of their names are typed out, and Roman stares as the world around him seems to shift entirely.

“I’ve been looking into what colleges might work best for each of us, to see if there was anywhere that might fit us all. Patton, this August you mentioned you were thinking about psychology, but I’m aware that your intentions might have changed since then, so let me know if there’s something else you’d like me to check for.” Patton nods excitedly, glancing down at the paper. Roman’s still reeling, trying to understand the meaning of what’s been placed before him, but Logan doesn’t seem to notice his confusion when he turns to address him.

“I presumed that you’d be planning on drama for your major, Roman, but I also did some research into English and music departments, just in case. And you should absolutely apply to Julliard if you want, Roman. There’s certainly no harm in it, and- well, you’re the best actor at our school for sure. Aside from that, I thought it might be nice to apply to at least a few schools together.” Logan’s fidgeting hands betray a hint of nervousness as he continues. “I thought it might be agreeable if we could find a school that worked well for all of us, so I’ve been doing some rudimentary research.”

“Rudimentary,” Roman snorts as his head starts to wrap around what Logan’s proposing, and he reaches over to claim one of Logan’s hands with his own, and grab the notebook with the other, so he can flip through the pages of scribbled notes it contains. “How long have you been working on this Logan?” Logan flushes, and Roman feels his face break into a full-on grin, his heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

“Well, I think that’s a lovely idea!” Patton exclaims; his face flushing with delight. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I was starting to worry about the thought of being so far away from you guys next year.” Roman watches as some of the tension releases from Logan’s shoulders, and in the face of their clear joy, Roman chokes down his disbelief. Instead, he smiles and agrees, and spends the rest of his lunch doing his best to maintain his attention as Logan lists off all the colleges he thinks would work best and all the pros and cons of each one.

Unfortunately, doubt isn’t quite so easily destroyed, and when Roman completes his homework that evening, throwing himself into his latest project is all he can do to keep the nagging thoughts at bay. After all, Logan is supposed to be the logical one, and Roman can’t imagine why he would be willing to settle for a school that would fit all of them. Roman had been sure he’d be headed for MIT or some other fancy school of import. So, he works and works, desperate to quiet his brain, and the clock blinks back its angry letters in the dim light until exhaustion finally overtakes him and he stumbles his way over to the welcoming embrace of his blankets.

The balance begins to tip after that, and Roman catches himself, for the first time, nodding off in the duller moments of his class. Teachers seem to notice too if the irritated looks are anything to go by, and the glares worry him enough that he dives into his assignments with a desperate vigor, determined to complete them so carefully that each of his in-class transgressions might be ignored.

Roman finds himself staying up later, fighting beneath the weight of both his homework and projects, until he’s collapsing against his desk, exhaustion poking at the corners of his eyes, even as a hundred different stories stare up at him from the blank paper in front of him, and a hot kind of shame stabbing at his chest. He never seems to get any closer to finishing anything, no matter how much time he puts into his work, and he hates it. Artists -successful artists- need to be able to finish their work. And yet Roman’s been doing this for years by now, and he still can’t seem to finish anything, can’t keep his attention on a single plot for long enough to even dream at being able to write “The End.”

No, instead Roman has piles of half-finished sketches and pages of nonsense; of characters without homes and plots without people, of brief, vague ideas that have yet to formulate themselves into anything solid, and of clear, well-illuminated scenes, suspended in stasis and all alone, without any story to fall back onto.

The only reason Roman even manages to apply to any colleges, in the end, is because Logan is there, narrowing down the best schools for them all, and he lets his boyfriend guide him through the process of applying, desperately working to perfect his application essays in the free time that only seems to be draining away before his very eyes. He’s relieved when Logan only briefly mentions applying to Julliard again, and Roman is able to brush it off, pretending he has it handled. He doesn’t even bother to look up the application process, though. After all, there’s no way that some half-baked creative like him would be accepted.

By spring, Roman finds himself intimately familiar with the feeling of forcing his eyes open, no closer to completing any of his stories and his schoolwork somehow still not entirely finished. He’s used to the effort it takes to push himself up into a sitting position, neck creaking as he stretches, and his limbs full of a vague kind of ache. He doesn’t have to check the time to know that he’s only got a handful of minutes to get ready before he needs to head out the door, so he drags himself into a standing position and throws on a clean shirt. Roman’s mornings stopped including enough time to plan his outfits in mid-January, and now it’s April and the memory of having an actual style is so distant it’s nearly forgotten. Instead, Roman pairs his shirt with his most comfortable pair of jeans focused only on the hope that he can make it to class on time today.

Roman laments the lost sleep as he makes his way to school, wishing that there was simply more time in the day, for Roman to get everything done. He flinches in class when he receives his homework back- more than half the answers are wrong; one should never do math when dead tired, but there’s not really been another choice lately. He shoves the papers into his backpack before Logan can see them, knowing full well what his boyfriend will think if he sees the horrid grades -the words ‘not good enough’ bounce through his mind, a repeating echo of all of his failures- and tries his best to pay attention, even as exhaustion murmurs at the edge of his mind, drawing him further and further down.

His head hits the desk in the middle of third period with a dull thunk. Luckily, the teacher either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. The bell wakes him thirty minutes later, drawing his head up as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, trying to remember where he is.

But when the class is over, and Roman is gathering his things so he can head to lunch, his teacher calls his name before he can leave, and Roman is forced to blink back the bleariness and focus on the words his teacher’s saying.

“This is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in my class this semester.” He says when the rest of the class has filed out the door. “And you’ve been making obvious mistakes on your homework. I know you’re not interested in the class, but you need to manage your time better, Roman. Even if you don’t care about your grades in this class, colleges will.” The exhaustion drains from his body in an instant as the teacher waits for an answer. In its place, adrenaline begins to course through him, making him cold with fear. But he can’t think of a coherent answer, and in its place he’s stuck staring at his teacher, wondering if this is what a deer feels like when watching a car careening straight at it.

The teacher doesn’t say anything at first, clearly waiting for a response, but when it doesn’t come, he sighs.

“Roman, I don’t think you understand how important this is. You’re coming dangerously close to failing in this class.”

The words slam into him with the force of a jet plane, and suddenly Roman can’t breathe. He can’t talk, can’t do anything but stand there as the teacher waits, still demanding a response that he doesn’t have. Time passes, and even as he stares blankly at the wall of his teacher’s classroom, the cracks in Roman’s life web out even further, and in the barest instant, everything shatters, the ground disappearing from beneath Roman’s feet, and he is left plummeting down into a nightmarishly dark abyss. The teacher watches him. He cannot respond. There is nothing left to say, nothing left to do. Roman will fail. Roman already has failed.

Eventually (has it been minutes? Hours? Days?), the teacher lets out another frustrated sigh; gives up and walks away and Roman is left standing alone, desperately trying to restart his brain, just enough so that he can stumble his way out of the damn place, just enough so that he can find somewhere safe to break down.

He doesn’t make it very far. Roman bursts into tears in the hallway; collapses against his locker as the weight of his every failure comes crashing down onto him. There is no saving him, no fixing this final of disasters. Barely a month left in school, and Roman does not know how to drag his grade back up from the ditch he dug for it, not in time for it to matter. So, Roman cries.

Passing students give him weird, concerned looks, but Roman can’t bear to choke it all back down, so he tries his best to ignore the judgement in their eyes, shifts further out of the way, backs himself up until he’s pressed against the wall, shaking apart at the seams.

Patton finds him later, and Roman can’t tell whether it’s been a few minutes or an eternity, but Patton quickly folds himself onto the floor next to Roman’s shaking form, curls around him like a blanket, and whispers soothing sounds into his ear. It only makes Roman cry harder.

“What happened?” Patton asks, when the tears finally stop coming, and Roman feels like he can maybe think again. His voice is soft and gentle, and Roman doesn’t know how to explain it, so he just whimpers, curls into Patton’s arms, and tries to forget.

Eventually Logan appears, and together he and Patton manage to coax Roman up, off the floor, and they slowly make their way out to Logan’s car. Roman lets them buckle him in without protest. He’s so very tired, and he doesn’t think he can keep his eyes open any longer.

Roman rouses back to some level of awareness when the car comes to a stop. He’s still tired, exhausted and drawn, and he lets them pull him, support his weight together, as the three boys stumble towards the door. Vaguely, he thinks he feels someone touch his side, frowns in confusion, before the word key drifts through his fuzzy sleep-drunk mind. Then, everything starts to go dark, darker, his exhausted brain dragging him down into unconsciousness once more. It will be weeks before he realizes that both his friends ditched class for him.

The sunlight, sneaking its way through his blinds, is what finally pulls Roman back to awareness. He is warm, wrapped in blankets, and the exhaustion is still there, but it has definitely receded; has lessened its death grip on Roman’s life. He feels numb.

He lays there, mind feeling strangely silent, heart slow and relaxed, and mulls over the confusion, works his way backwards in time through his memories. He was tired, so tired. Logan and Patton had helped him to his room, practically dragged him there. Before that, he had been crying. He remembers it vaguely, some horrible distress that had been gripping his heart so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He thinks, tries to remember further back, but a haze has settled over his brain and he cannot remember. His heart is beating slow, calm and relaxed. He cannot remember the last time he pulled himself into wakefulness without the help of coffee. His stomach rumbles.

Roman pulls himself up into a sitting position. He is hungry, he suddenly realizes, stomach rolling with displeasure at the missed dinner he had lost to this sleep. Briefly, Roman wonders what day it is. He finds that he doesn’t really care. Pushing himself up, further, out of bed, proves to be surprisingly difficult, his limbs like dead weights, his head heavy, his mind still foggy with the remnants of his exhaustion. It will take more than one night of rest to cure Roman of his bone-deep exhaustion.

Ambling steps make for a sufficient enough means of getting Roman to the kitchen, and dully he remembers that his parents are both away on a business trip. There is no one to judge him, no matter how much he stumbles. With a final burst of effort, he makes it the last few feet, collapses into a kitchen chair and blinks up at-

Logan, who’s sitting beside him, perched on a chair of his own, nursing a warm mug of tea and completing a crossword puzzle out of that book he carries everywhere. Just a few feet away, Patton bustles around in the kitchen, looking very much like he owns the place. Both of them look the very image of a peaceful domestic life. Roman’s brain stalls, confusion seeping in. He does not think he remembers living with them.

“Morning, Roman.” Logan suddenly murmurs, drawing Roman’s eyes straight to his own, where the slightest of frowns is visible. “I hope you slept well?”

“What-” Roman begins. Stops. Gathers his thoughts. Starts again. “Why are you here? I don’t remember-” What Roman is supposed to remember, he doesn’t know. Everything still feels so strange. Logan raises his eyebrow at him.

“No?” He asks. “That is- rather concerning. You must have been even more exhausted than we estimated.” Patton bustles over, just then, and slides a steaming mug in front of Roman. He glances down, stares at its clear brown contents.

“This isn’t coffee.” Roman states. He usually drinks coffee in the morning, but this isn’t-

“No,” Logan agrees. “I rather think you should be taking some care to avoid coffee for the time being.” A pause. “Tell me, Roman. On average how many hours of sleep have you been getting lately?” The question is unexpected. Roman doesn’t know how to answer, so instead he leans back and begins to sip at the tea.

“I...” Roman shifts with uncertainty. “I usually get to sleep by three?” Something clatters to the ground, and Roman glances over to see Patton standing frozen, spatula now on the floor. Roman forces his gaze downwards, to the ground.

“And when do you usually wake up?” Logan prods further.

“Five?” Roman offers, cringing beneath the weight of their combined disappointment. Patton makes a noise then, and moments later arms are wrapping around his shoulders, holding so tightly that Roman can hardly think.

“How long?” Patton breathes beside him. “How long have we been missing this?”

“Forever?” Roman finds himself asking, realizing with horror that he can’t even remember a time when he didn’t feel tired. “Pretty much since-” he cuts himself off; they don’t know about the accident.

“Since what?” Logan presses. And when did he make his way around the table?

“I don’t know... Since I was a kid, I guess.” He doesn’t want to tell them. He can’t tell them. “It didn’t used to be so bad though.” Time has always felt so strange to Roman. Like a speeding car, it comes at him so fast but in the mirror looking back, it feels like he’s already wasted decades of his life on dreams that’ll never come true.

Logan sighs, leans forward from his spot beside Roman’s chair, reaches out to grab his hand. The fuzziness is almost gone now, and Logan’s eyes capture him for a long moment. Nobody moves. The clock ticks forward but it seems like time is frozen for one precious moment. And then Roman looks away, and everything resumes.

“Roman, you need to sleep. If I- if we had realized...” Logan trails off. Roman breathes in relief. He really doesn’t want to know how that sentence would end.

“I can’t.” Roman says. “There’s too much to do and not enough time, and now I’m failing math-”

Oh.

“Failing?” Of course, he remembers it now. Roman’s been skipping out on his math homework more often than not these days and there’s just not enough time left to fix it. He can’t meet Logan’s gaze. Logan, who’s the smartest person Roman’s ever met; Logan who never gets less than a hundred percent on any assignment, and Roman dares to be failing algebra? If he didn’t hate him before...

“Roman, you idiot.” Logan breathes out. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you in an instant.” The response catches him off-guard, and he blinks back up at his boyfriend, who stares down at him. The sorrow there reminds of his mother’s eyes when he woke up in the hospital. He only sort of remembers the actual collision of the other car slamming into them, but the aftermath still makes him nervous to think about, even all these years later. His mother still walks with a limp, and even though the scars on Roman’s arm have mostly faded, the name that had once graced the flesh had never returned, even past the scar tissue. He still remembers the tests, the fear and concern in his parents’ eyes as doctors explained that he might have brain damage and the insomnia that had followed him ever since. Roman doesn’t mention any of that, though; isn’t ready for the vulnerability which that would require, so he just shivers and glances down.

Roman doesn’t know how they do it, but he ends up back in his math teacher’s classroom, that Monday. Patton stands behind him, a reassuring weight on his shoulder, as Roman stammers out his apology and asks what he can do to fix his grade. He doesn’t know what to expect, is trying desperately to prepare himself for derision, for refusal. Instead, his teacher only asks one question.

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner?” The question is genuine, and Roman doesn’t know how to express how sorry he is, so he just tries his best to answer. It ends in soft, embarrassing tears that usher themselves forth as he struggles through an explanation of how he kept telling himself it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Somewhere in the middle he accidentally admits to how worthless he feels, and Patton’s hand tightens on his shoulder. But maybe it needed to happen, because after that, the teacher stops demanding answers, and just works out a plan, a series of assignments and exercises, says that Roman can do them to make up for all his missed homework. His teacher tells him to try to get as much of it done as he can, and then makes him promise to stop by on every Friday afternoon, just to check in on how far he’s gotten.

Once they make it out of the room, it becomes Logan’s job to keep him together. They get together whenever they have free time; spend it alternating between their houses, and working through every problem, and when Roman balks beneath the weight of all the work, Logan catches Patton’s eye from his place beside them, and they drag him away from it all, offering him moments of distraction just when he needs it most.

Logan walks him through every problem with a guiding, calm voice. He talks with Roman every night, calling him over the internet, and telling him about his research, reads him ancient stories until he finally falls asleep each evening. Patton offers him encouragement, warm and bright and brazenly confident that Roman will succeed, even when he’s struggling. Patton takes him to the meeting with his teacher that Friday, and when they leave, Patton pulls him into a hug, long and warmer than Roman’s felt in so long.

Months later, Roman will laugh with Logan and Patton. He will joke about how stupid he was not to ask for help sooner. Months later, in the heat of summer, Roman will come to a decision and tell them the truth. He will confess in the dark of night and tell them everything that led to the faded scars on his arms and will admit to them the name that he had, once upon a time, on his wrist.

“I don’t even know if they’re still out there. Maybe they got a new name, but I-” Roman will trail off.

“I for one am glad you didn’t get a new name. After all, you might not have asked me out if you did, and I find that I rather enjoy your company.” Logan will respond, his face flushing slightly as Patton beams beside him. And Roman will take a deep breath and know that everything is far from perfect- there are still nights where he lays awake for hours, and occasionally he still catches the whisper of self-doubt on Patton’s face, but at the very least, it seems they’ll always have each other. And after all, isn’t that worth all the stars in the sky?

[1dreality]

Zayn Malik was never the celebrity you thought he was. If it wasn’t already obvious from his detached, often melancholic interviews in the wake of his 2015 departure from One Direction, it will be from the title of his second solo album. The very elongated 27-track Icarus Falls is comprised of more of the sparse R&B that Malik has perfected since his first release Mind of Mine in 2016, but like its titular myth is also indebted to themes of incredible ascent and crushing decline.

A decline not of Malik’s career, it should be said, but rather of his own mental health, the album serving as both an intimate meditation on Malik’s life so far and a dire warning about the trauma of instant fame. It all leads to one obvious question: Is Zayn OK?

In an age of millennial openness and Instagram confessionals, Malik remains something of an outlier: an enormously famous and highly visible celebrity, but one whose ambiguity allows us to project much onto him. In our collective consciousness, he has been the 1D-fleeing villain, smoking cigarettes, being mean to his bandmates on Twitter and looking miserable as well as the “soft boy” pin-up, a vulnerable figure in desperate need of a hug.

Much of that ambiguity is intentional. Along with declining to tour Mind of Mine, Malik is often press-shy, choosing not to take part in TV sit-downs or play the social media game in an era in which somebody like Ariana Grande spends much of the waking day interacting with her fans on Twitter and Instagram.

And while Malik has been open about some of his past struggles, including his battle with an eating disorder at the height of his One Direction fame and consistent difficulties with anxiety, they’re often revelations that feel accidental in nature. We learn of them during an unexpected moment of truth-telling between him and a journalist, the subject quickly changed soon after, or through lyrics that are just descriptive enough to imply deep truths. Even talking about his anxiety in an essay for Time Magazine felt like a necessary course-correction after a string of cancelled gigs led to unflattering rumours about his health in the press.

Whether Malik’s public persona is intended as a protective mask or not, it is still difficult, particularly in the wake of Icarus Falls, not to feel something for him. After all, his jump from a working-class kid to an international superstar worth a reported $50 million, practically overnight, is the sort of trajectory most of us would struggle with at the age of 40, let alone at 17 when Malik auditioned for The X Factor.

Icarus Falls doesn’t cover any new sonic ground for Malik as an artist. It sees him return to the same well of threadbare, silky R&B that helped Mind of Mine easily trounce his fellow One Direction bandmates in the “best first solo record” stakes. But it does whirr with a noticeable sadness, Malik repeatedly mourns the peace of his pre-X Factor past and beats himself up for mistakes he feels that he’s made since. And when he speaks of emotional pain, it often sounds not like something confined to history, but rather something he’s dealing with every day.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” he sings on Good Years. “I close my eyes and see a crowd of a thousand tears / I pray to God I didn’t waste all my good years.” On Insomnia: “I’ve been roaming and strolling all in the streets / Burning my eyes red, not slept for weeks.” On Back to Life: “I been flying so long / Can’t remember what it was like to be sober.” On Satisfaction: “Nobody said this would be easy / Nobody gave me a rule book to follow.”

Even typical love songs are fatalistic in nature, talk of Armageddon running through both Flight of the Stars (“I will follow / Hold you close standing on the edge of no tomorrow”) and Tonight (“Love me like tomorrow’s never gonna come”), while much of the album nods to an unnamed great love in Malik’s life that he needs to overcome incredible odds to be with – nothing new for love songs, but given a greater weight when paired with his statements over the years. Because if we know anything about Zayn Malik, it’s that he often can’t stand being Zayn Malik.

Through much of the little press he has done, Malik has expressed unease with most of the trappings of fame, particularly the assumptions that he ought to be personable and friendly with industry figures or musical collaborators. And when it comes to One Direction, he still appears burnt by the experience. While he told Vogue in November that he has recently been able to see his time with the band as “an amazing experience,” despite the “bulls---” of what he refers to as “the machine,” he also told GQ in June that he didn’t make any actual friends during the peak of his fame: “I definitely have issues trusting people.”

In the numerous articles that pop up every winter recalling how good The X Factor used to be, clips are embedded that showcase many of its most memorable contestants, and every year it becomes that bit more shocking how much One Direction looked like children during their time on the show. The scrawny limbs, those Justin Bieber haircuts, the awkward school-talent-show bopping and shuffling. It somehow worked, enough at least to turn them into a tween phenomenon, but in hindsight it’s indefensible that they were pushed as significantly as they were.

There was always something deer-in-the-headlights about the band in its early days, a sense that at least a few of them had been pulled along for the ride as opposed to having a firm grip on the steering wheel. The hunger so visible in pop bands of similar notoriety, whether manufactured or not, wasn’t always visible – and while all of them have transitioned into stable adults who are, for the most part, comfortable in the spotlight, their jarringly different responses to fame remain clear.

It’s important to remember, for context’s sake, that Malik was always a reluctant star. Only attending his original X Factor audition after being guilted by his mother into waking up early and making the journey there, he was, in his own words to The Fader, “a lazy teen”. And even during the audition stages, he expressed reluctance to properly join in, walking off stage during a choreography rehearsal and having to be coaxed to go back. At the time, Malik’s reaction registered as a petulant strop, but now feels oddly prescient.

Of Malik’s One Direction bandmates, Harry Styles was always the most naturally inclined to superstardom – such an affable schmoozer and networker that it was quickly no longer surprising to see images of him palling around with Mick Jagger or Stevie Nicks. Liam Payne always bore the personality of someone very eager to be seen, lack of self-awareness very much included, while the perpetually chipper Niall Horan has always simply appeared very, very happy to be there. But both Malik and Louis Tomlinson have often visibly struggled, uninspired by the more performative and fraudulent elements of celebrity, or the levels of attention handed to them by Simon Cowell and co.

“What I really can’t ever get used to, or really enjoy, are these super geared-up celebrity parties,” Tomlinson told Noisey last year. “No one actually cares. You see people who are beyond self-absorbed, and that’s why it can be a dangerous place.”

Malik has echoed similar sentiments. “I don’t work well in group situations, with loads of people staring at me,” he told GQ. “And when you say ‘star’… everyone wants you to be this kind of character that owns a room or is overly arrogant or confident. I’m not that guy, so I don’t want to be a star.”

What’s odd is that, for all his claims, Malik does bear all the superficial trappings of modern stardom. He’s a fashion darling but is permanently magnetised to the covers of cool indie magazines. Furthermore, his on-again/off-again relationship with supermodel Gigi Hadid has, since 2015, become a Generation Z equivalent of Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder in its aesthetic-heavy, era-defining popularity.

But Malik is also simultaneously detached. The GQ profile, his most extensive recent interview, bears all the hallmarks of a journalist struggling to fulfil a word count because of an uncommunicative subject, writer Carrie Battan even expresses Malik’s tendency to reply to her questions in “friendly but anodyne one-liners.” Like the very best of pop idols, from Britney to Beyoncé, Malik is so compelling principally because he’s so hard to read. But this can also be a poisoned chalice: every expression of doubt or self-pity determined to be a cry for help, every revelation shaping an image that may or may not be real.

It means that listening to Icarus Falls isn’t an entirely joyous experience, Malik’s lyrics painting a picture of a young man still working through the discomfort of his sudden fame and the trauma of a moment in the spotlight marred by illness and fractured relationships, many of its scars still visible today. But it’s also a record that you can’t help but admire as a result, especially if it serves as a form of catharsis for him.

In the decade since Britney Spears was forcibly taken to the hospital surrounded by hundreds of paparazzi photographers, our collective relationship with the idea of fame has greatly altered, particularly for a generation who watched Amy Winehouse essentially die before their eyes. The one beneath them are currently coming to terms with a raft of recent pop star crises, from Demi Lovato’s overdose to the deaths of artists like Mac Miller and Lil Peep.

For all the obvious charms in Malik’s life, from his incredible fortune to a kind of artistic freedom that he never had in One Direction, you’d have to be particularly cold not to feel empathy for the sheer strangeness of his adult existence; a world of rampant, maddening attention that has historically led even the strongest of stars into tragedy.

The Zayn Malik of today is a little bruised, a little listless, his magazine profiles never complete without references to the cloud of marijuana smoke that lingers around him, or his need to lock himself away from the world. It doesn’t sound like the most ideal of outcomes for a man who calls himself a pop idol Icarus and sings with whispery detachment that he has “[flown] too close to the sun.” But we can only hope that it at least serves as a parachute.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN DANCE, LEAD VOCAL, RAP MOON JIHUN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 18 COMPANY: MSG ETC: this member is known for their involvement in musicals

IDOL IMAGE

The steadfast, reliable one.

That’s what he is, that’s what he needs to be, or so he’s told.

Not the one who ever truly stands out, only ever when he’s given the time to take center stage as a dancer, but a jack of all trades who blends smoothly into anything that’s thrown at him. Dancing is what he does best, and he clears the stage every time he’s on there, so much so that there’s articles written about how he comes alive, and there’s comment chains about his so-called duality, on stage vs off stage, the artist vs the person, as if they truly knew either at all.

Where his bandmates are electric and mysterious, where they’re magnetic and bring people in, his job is to keep them there, to be the anchor. He’s approachable, perhaps a little too much, and the company pushes his open and earnest relationship to fans, because they need it. The company tells him to be the best friend, the big brother, never the favorite but good enough to make people feel comfortable. The meek shall inherit the earth, as they say.

It’s a polished and just-flawed-enough version of who he’s always wanted to become, once, before the mirror cracked and the smoke vanished. Smile for the camera, be that boy, strong, unwavering, always there for others, sometimes not quite there himself.

He pursues musicals, gets the OK from the company after much insistence, after convincing them that it’ll allow him to show versatility, that that’s the thing they want for the group right now. Selfishly, he wants it for himself first, to show that he can take on that challenge and see it through. The company agrees, if only because they need it, a way to show and confirm, after re:group, that their idols can truly adapt and thrive no matter what’s thrown at them. It’s publicity, at least, but then it’s up to him to make it good.

There’s a sort of vindication in it, although he’s always been told to avoid being too prideful, but sometimes he can’t help it. No hurt in telling yourself you’re doing well, after all, that your best is enough for once.

IDOL HISTORY

corner of the sky.

“Special”.

“Gifted”.

“Prodigal”.

Words that mean too much, until they dont mean anything at all.

-

When Moon Jihun is seven years old, his parents sign him up for the school talent show, at his express request. He had seen this performance on TV, of an artist whose name he can’t remember and that his seven-year-old grasp on language would probably jumble anyway, but it shakes something up in him like nothing has before. It plants a seed in his young mind that’s only begging to grow, so he bats his lashes as his mother, and she writes his name down because of course, anything for her little prince. Before he knows it he gets a taste of it, the costumes and the light and the dramatics, but most importantly he hears his own voice, feels his body moving, and he loves how it makes him feel.

Passion feels like all he needs and he cultivates it, for all the years afterward, and it’s only the beginning of the road. It’s also the foundation of a home, for Jihun, and back then it’s whole and beautiful and precious, not in ruins quite yet. He’s his parents’ and grandparents’ treasure, the pride of Seogwipo, center stage in flashing light. The family’s crown jewel who can do nothing wrong in their eyes.

Jihun, you’re so much more advanced than all the other kids!

You know, our Jihun practices a lot at home.

I think it shows, he’s so talented!

He works hard at performing because he loves it,  but he can’t deny that being told he’s good, being told he’s special, is more fuel to his fire. It must mean he’s doing something right, and it must be true, they have no reason to lie to him after all, they’re only here to encourage and lift him up. Honesty is the best policy, always, that’s what he believes and what he holds on to. So whenever his father grips him by the shoulders and tells him he’s special, he believes it. Whenever his grandmother hangs another picture on the wall, he feels his heart filling with pride. Every time he sees them sitting in a row, all eyes on him, it’s only more motivation to chase this dream.

He’s special, after all.

Fresh out of middle school, he moves to the big city, Seoul, center of the known universe. And, or so he thinks, fulfills his destiny.

The performing arts school building towers over him the first day, so many promises rising up to the sky, all the hope he’d shouldered from all his years practicing finally about to fully realize themselves into something concrete, something for the future.

The future, as it turns out, is a paper plane that burns at the slightest change of direction.

Outside of his bubble, away from his family, Jihun crashes in a way he’s never experienced before. Where’s that special kid, where’s the prodigal son, in the middle of all the other students who are stronger and better in every way? Where’s the gift gone, when he’s struggling to catch up, much less keep up, when he loses his breath and comes tumbling to the floor, lungs on fire, sweat trickling down his back, the unpleasant physical manifestation of failure.

That’s a new word, failure. It stains his tongue like the bitter taste of tobacco, the cigarettes he starts sneaking in between classes, hunched over, curled up on himself against the back wall of the building, shame and disgust and failure, failure, failure.

His parents’ praise echoes in his mind and he tries to crumple it up and throw it away, because it’s not enough. It was never enough and he can’t do anything with it now, not when he feels himself falling behind, slipping away, his dreams so far out of reach he should probably just let them go.

But letting go is not an option, of course. The only thing stronger than his shame is his stubbornness. If he’s just average, the only way is up. If he only has his determination to show for himself, then at least he’s got something. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?  

Know where you stand. Stand your ground. Throw yourself into practice.

He takes everything in stride. Classes, projects, late night training, throw five or six desperate kids in a room and call it a learning experience. Sneak into the school’s studio when no one is looking, stumble upon a classmate, keep each other’s secrets and keep each other afloat. There’s more vindication in knowing he’s trying than in being told he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s too much sometimes, but there’s this growing, urgent need in Jihun’s gut to just prove that he can, so he keeps going, cultivates his work ethic far away from false promises and little white lies.

waving through a window.

He’s eighteen, waiting at the bus stop when it happens, a man in a cheap suit handing him a business card, the three letters MSG feeling like a punch in the throat. He knows them, of course, anyone with an interest in the industry does. The fine print in is the man’s words, though.

“You’ve got a face that’ll sell.”

It’s a start, maybe. It’s ok if he can capitalize off of that, show what he truly wants to. It’s a chance he can’t afford to pass up. Even if he doesn’t like to think of it that way, everything is a means to an end.

Trainee life is, for all he’s anticipated, just a leveled-up version of school. He gets the call back a week after his audition. The almost soulless voice on the other hand claims they saw something in him, and it’s been a while since he’s heard those words so Jihun takes them with caution, files them in a corner of his mind that’s still marked with a red flag.

He still shows up on the company’s doorstep with his suitcase and his aching heart.

The cycle starts again. Push yourself to the limit, say yes, thank you, I’ll do my best, I’ll work harder, and then do just that. It’s all you’ve got a claim to, after all. In that room he’s just like he was before, keeps himself afloat among the others, and eventually, he finds his footing. He can breathe a little easier, sleep a little sounder, even if he doesn’t get to do either of those things much. Little by little, finally, he makes himself known. Remarkable if only for how diligent he is, people also commend his hunger to prove himself. The downside, that he tries not to let become his downfall, is his tendency to bite off more than he can chew, leaving projects unfinished or unpolished just because he wants to move on to the next one, to do everything at once, to show his worth. Run through a dance cover, move on to some barely formed choreography, or two, sometimes both at the same time because he needs to keep his mind occupied and alert.

His body feels like it’s being taken apart every day, from the hazy dance practices that blend into each other, always longer and more grueling and the next, but he loves it, this feeling, when the world spins and he’s taken along in the movement. It’s all he ever wants to do. It’s all he feels that he knows.

“You just don’t stand out.”

It’s that sentence, that he seems to hear over and over, that makes his blood boil and sets his heart on fire. “If they’re not looking my way, I’ll make them.”

And he does.

If he’s always heard that debuting is the hardest part, he’d wager that following up is harder. It doesn’t feel difficult or painful when he stands on that stage for the first time, finally, a day that he’d begun to think would never come. It feels freeing. It feels like the sky has opened up and all the atmospheric pressure has been lifted, and rain is clearing yesterday’s pain to make way for tomorrow’s joy.

Tomorrow’s joy, he learns the hard way, only comes to the fortunate. They’re not among them. Months pass and comebacks happen and everything remains the same, leaving sweat stains and tear tracks everywhere they go, trying to make sense of a situation that never does. It’s not hard work that makes dreams come true, it’s luck, pure dumb luck, and theirs ran out so quickly that Jihun keeps wondering if there’s something they’re doing wrong.

Still they keep on going, stuck somewhere between determination and desperation, a single red thread that threatens to snap at any moment. It’s burned into Jihun’s skin, this lifeline, the promise of a better tomorrow that never seems to come; low sales, low views, low interest, low morale, but still this hunger, unsatisfied yet, and maybe it never will be.

soul of a man.

Re:group is grueling, worse than he’d imagined, worse than he’s been through.

Against the odds, he hears those words again. One by one as the guys walk in, this one is special, this one is gifted, this one is prodigal, and yet they’re all here, but to him they don’t seem to realize the reason why.

He gets the devil’s part, grits his teeth when he watches the episodes and sees what they’ve made of him, but he makes do with it. After all, this world will only ever let you be who they’ve already decided you are, and in a situation like this one, it’s pointless to fight against it. If you know who you are then it’s enough, and Jihun does, finally. So he works, and he works, because that’s all he knows, and he refuses to let anyone hold that against him at least. If the producers decide he’s the bad guy, too relentless and demanding and straightforward, then so be it. Through it all, he fights like a lion who refuses to die in the cage.

Too often his outspokenness is mistaken for humor, and the things he says that pertain to the hardships of the industry are brushed to the side or not taken seriously. The industry is cruel, this much he knows, but even in the role he’s been given, even as the MCs and the managers try to silence him, he knows he can hold on to what he believes. Sure he has to compromise, and it eats him alive on most days, how often he’s asked or downright forced to set his conscience aside. The fans notice, a little, but it’s only small things they can get attached to. For now it’s probably enough, not that he’d be allowed anything more.

At the conclusion of it all, under stage lights and scrutiny, as he’s been doing all his life, he waits for his name to be called. But the call never comes. It’s okay. It’s enough. he  did his best, and they’ll never take that away from him.

The gate opens to a brave new world instead.

one day more.

Fortune is a funny thing, really.

One day it seems like it’s all but abandoned them, thrown them to the side of the road to fend for themselves and eventually be picked on by vultures, a disgraceful end for a disgraceful life.

The next day, like some trickster god was in a benevolent mood and spun the wheel again, they wake up in a world where people have finally taken notice, where they’re not an afterthought anymore.

The first group schedule after the show, Jihun can barely see through the crowd and the flashing lights. It’s a new feeling and he thinks he could get used to it, even if the little voice in the back of his head warns him that this too shall pass if they’re not careful.

Take the second chance and run with it, because they don’t come easy, because it could be the last. Take the love, the admiration, the trophies, cherish them, because they could slip away at any moment.. Put in your demands now, because they can’t refuse you anything anymore. Now Jihun understands what it’s like to be the breadwinner, the move maker, the one that the light is finally shining on.

In the wake of their newfound success, Jihun gets cast in his first real musical, so far from the cardboard and the watercolor of the school talent show. It’s a never-ending thrill ride, a rush of adrenaline like he’s never known before, one that he hopes he never gets used to. He’s clawed his way up here and he’ll fight to stay, even when the industry is as unforgiving as its ever been.

When the cameras are off, as always, his strong moral compass is both his lifeline and his downfall. Even when it starts working in his favor, he still disapproves of many aspects of the idol industry, silently protests against the personal restrictions, refuses to settle for “this is how it’s always been done.” His intentions to voice that dislike are often shut down by his company to maintain the image they gave him, one that is a little too off to who he truly is for him to stay quiet for long. Maybe one day the industry will change enough that it will never have to be this way again, for him or anyone who shares his way of thinking. For now, if he can keep his balance despite all of it, if he can stay true no matter what, then he’ll have already won.

It takes a lot to break a man’s spirit. Even more when he’s already been patched up, and is held together with renewed hope; and the knowledge that if he holds on to his unwavering belief in what’s right, and keeps on his path as he has, then he’ll find a way out into the light in the end.

[sshqmadison]

Say It’s Comin’ Soon || Brodison

WHO: Madison Mccarthy and Brody Weston WHAT: Rehearsal of a potential song for Regionals WHEN: Wed, Mar 6, afternoon WHERE: Brody’s house WARNINGS: None

Madison was still feeling off since her news over the weekend. She was grateful for daily Cheerios workouts and plans like Kitty’s party as well as working on this number with Brody to keep her moving. Fake it til she made it was the only way she knew how to operate. If she seemed like she was still on top, maybe she would get there again. She’d collected a few sets of sheet music from Between the Sheets on her way over to Brody’s place, hoping they would find the perfect number between his ideas and hers. She knocked at his door and tucked a hair behind her ear, then smiled as he greeted her. “Hey! I brought music, and snacks!” Madison said, holding each up in turn.

Brody had been going through his sheet music to find the perfect, upbeat duet for them. He´d collected a couple of pieces and once he was done he checked his watch. He had a couple of hours before he´d start his shift and he was sure they´d be done by then. So when the knock on the door came he jogged downstairs and opened it, a bright smile on his face. "Then you can stay," he found himself joking as he stepped aside to let her in and then nodded towards the basement. "Got a dance studio down there," he explained before making his way there. In the beginning it had only been that, a studio, but over the years Brody had added a piano and even a comfortable couch with a small table where they could sit to try and find the perfect duet.

Madison stepped inside and followed his lead down the stairs. It wasn't often people had a dance studio in their house, and she was definitely impressed. "How'd you get so lucky to have this kind of space?" she asked, settling on the couch and pulling out the music. It wasn't all business, as she was sure they'd have fun getting the number together, but she wasn't one to waste time, either. Madison reached into her bag and passed a water Brody's way and pulled out a container with trail mix and one with cookies. "I went with healthy and also, not so much, depending on how you're feeling," she offered, "so tell me, what did you find?"

The story behind that was rather easy, he asked his mother for it and his father paid for it, but his family wasn´t exactly something Brody liked to talk about, so he decided to keep it short. "Well I was lucky enough to have the space in the house. My Dad isn´t exactly the guy who needs a room to himself other than his office and they decided to let me follow my passions when I was a kid." He nodded towards the couch and the table, on which he had stacked the sheet music he had picked out. "Well depending on what you want to go with. There´s some classics, like Anything You Can Do I can Do Better," he picked up a cookie. "Or something a little out of the ordinary like The Song That Goes Like this," or even "Carried Away" from On The Town." he nodded. "There´s a few more in there. Just have a look,"

"It's really awesome. Mason and I are stuck rearranging the living room when we need to practice cheers or for glee," she noted. Madison shifted to grab the small stack and flipped through the titles, pulling out the ones that struck her. "I love Anything You Can Do," she gushed, lightly hugging to her chest, and then sighed, "but it's a classic. Is it too predictable? Maybe? I hate saying no to it, but..."  She trailed off and kept flipping, pursing her lips in thought as she glanced around the room. "Maybe we should put this space to use, find a number we can sing and dance to."

"Well. Good thing the two of us have more than enough space to practice." Brody chuckled. He could use a duet at Regionals and Madison was fun to sing with. It would be something different and maybe Mr. Schue would go for it. He did seem to like the old school style, but he wasn´t afraid to try new things every now and then. Brody smiled to himself as he finished the cookie and nodded. "That would certainly be something new. Duets are usually ballads or Broadway numbers. Do you have anything in mind?" He then asked, picking up some of the sheet music himself to go through.

Madison smiled knowing Brody was on board. They'd have their work cut out for them, but the payout was going to be worth it. She had a feeling. "Well, I think modern is risky with convincing Schue, but it seems to do better at competition. There's this Sara Bareilles song I'm a little obsessed with.  She did a version as a duet and it's just," she paused and made a face, unable to properly convey her feelings for the song. "There'd be room for the whole glee club for backup, it's got a good beat for dance. I brought sheet music and the track."

"He might like the old school, but he does know what works best with the judges." Brody agreed with a nod. He wanted to win, he NEEDED them to win. And if they did he wanted to be front and center. At her words he nodded. Maybe it was good not to go for Broadway this time. "Well, let´s hear it." he then added, getting up from the couch and clapping his hands together.

She bounced up and nodded, grabbing her phone to plug into his stereo. With the audio queued up, Madison pressed play and listened as the music started to fill the room. Her shoulders shimmied with the opening piano before she took to a hand microphone and started to lip sync along with the lyrics. She turned to him, looking for his reaction as he took in the song, pointing as the male vocals came in, and soon enough she couldn't stop herself and was full out singing along.  When it ended she turned to him excitedly. "Sorry, I should have let you have a clean listen without me overpowering it. But... what do you think?

Brody nodded over to the stereo and basically told Madison to help herself. He had definitely heard the song before and while it wouldn´t have been the first thing to pop into his mind for a duet at Regionas he couldn´t say that he wasn´t intrigued. Especially not with how much Madison was getting into it. It was quite adorable to watch, actually. Brody was tapping his foot along, his lips curving into a smile. "Well I think we´ve found our song." he then chuckled. "Never apologize for passion though. I can see you´re really into the song. Do you have the sheet music? Or should we see if we find it on the internet?"

Madison blushed a little at his comment about her being really into it. She'd probably looked a little ridiculous, honestly. This was type of song she danced around her bedroom to, and she knew there wasn't anything particularly graceful about that. "It's empowering, I guess. Like, it's pretty clearly about some relationship, but you can twist into any not great situation and be like yeah, it sucks, but I'll figure it out," she explained with a shrug. Madison moved back over to her bag and flipped through to find the music. "It took me forever to find the duet of this. She released the solo as a single so it was everywhere."

"Look at you, being all prepared." Brody grinned, figuring this might have been the duet she´d been wanting to do from the beginning. He wasn´t upset though, more impressed with her determination. "Well if the duet is a rarity then we might actually have a change at getting picked for the duet." Brody had performed duets at Sectionals and various competitions, and even a solo every now and then, but there was a bunch of talented people in Glee Club so to get picked over them was important.

Madison knew this was the song she wanted, but she wasn't about to force it on him. However, she was thrilled Brody had agreed to it.  Having passion for the song could only make the performance better, right? "It'll be unique," she agreed, "modern but not over done." She passed him a copy of the  music, keeping one for herself even if she didn't think she'd need it much. "Should we just start from the top?"

"Sounds like the perfect song for us," Brody replied with a smile. He´d already done some warming up before her arrival, so he was ready to go whenever she was. He went over the sheet music for a moment, making sure to know all the important parts, before wandering over to the piano. "Yeah, let´s do a slow run first," he suggested before sitting down and putting the sheet music in front of him. It wasn´t long until he had the melody down and began playing, a smile on his lips.

Madison was admittedly a little surprised when he went to the piano to play. She’d heard him sing and watched him dance, but had no idea that his talent extended to the instrument as well.  Listening to the opening bars, she shifted closer to the piano before joining in with the opening ”Goodbye, should be saying that to you by now, shouldn’t I?” Her voice carried over the bouncing melody from the keys and carried on until it was Brody’s turn to take the lead, anxious to hear how well his voice fit the song.

Brody smiled as he glanced up at her, fingers flying over the piano. He wasn´t an expert by any means, but his parents had decided he should learn an instrument, and considering he had his sights set on Broadway early on he´d picked the piano. "Maybe we can start off slow with me playing the piano and then speed it up later on," he mused as he played and eventually listened to her first tunes. His lips curved into a smile before he eventually joined in. "And I tell myself to let this story end, oh, my heart will rest in someone else´s hand."

She nodded at his instructions, happy to let him set the pace as he learned the song. After all, it was her obsession not his. Madison’s fists clenched slightly in excitement when she heard him start to sing. It was perfect. She volleyed back and forth with him through the song, harmonizing under him in some sections, and taking the lead in others. Even at a slow first go through, it sounded like victory. “You sounded good,” she complimented as they finished.

For some reason they hadn´t been singing together all too much in Glee Club. In group numbers, yes, but it had rarely ever been the two of them. Brody was enjoying himself though and it turned out that their voices were going together pretty well. He finished on a high note, his lips curving into a smile. "WE sounded good," he then told her. "And I think it´s good to start off slow and then go faster. It brings a good dynamic to the song," he scribbled down a few notes before glancing up at her. "Alright, shall we go again?"

Madison smiled at his note that it was the pairing of them that sounded great.  She needed the positivity and the feeling that something might just go her way again. "I like that too," she agreed to note on tempo. "It would make a good opener. Just you and me, slow and steady, then it ramps up and everyone joins in on backup," she mused, gesturing as she pictured it playing out in her mind.  Madison took a moment to clear her throat and took her singing stance once more. "Play me in."

"Perfect." Brody agreed as he scribbled down some more notes for the people to join in later. He´d be giving a copy of the sheet music to Mr. Schue during their next Glee Club meeting. He wanted their teacher to see just how much effort Madison and him had put into the whole thing so they´d definitely be considered for the duet. "Alright," He played a couple of notes again, his lips curving into a smile as they started over. It went on for about an hour until he figured they deserved a break. "You know, I think we really have a shot with this," Brody grinned as he took a sip from his water bottle.

She couldn't have agreed more. Even with the little time they'd put into it, the number was objectively a contender. Madison took her spot on the couch again, munching on a bit of the granola she'd brought. She took in the room for a moment, trying to think if she'd ever noticed Brody's dancing. He definitely kept up in all the group numbers, but Mike seemed to take the forefront. And with a dance studio in his basement? Brody must be more talented than she knew. "Do you want to choreograph something for it? The music would definitely support more than Schue's typical sway and twirl," Madison noted.

Brody put the water bottle down and glanced at Madison, his lips curving into a smile. "That would actually be a really cool idea," he admitted. He wasn´t necessarily a pro choreographer, but he could whip something up that would outdo anything Mr. Schue had to offer. No offense though. "I´ll definitely think of something," Brody pulled out his phone and checked the time, making sure he´d still have enough time to get to his shift. But he was good for now. "Should we do another run through and then maybe start again tomorrow? I´ll have some choreography by then,"

Madison's hands clapped together in excitement. This really was coming together. Knowing that Brody was just as invested in their number, in this number, had her all the more motivated. She was back to her feet at the piano as quickly as she'd sat down, ready to go again.  She let Brody play in the intro and was back on her lines again, full force this time for the last run through. She harmonized with him through the last chorus I'll be all right, just not tonight before finishing on her own, fists clenching with the final someday... Madison let out a satisfied sigh with a grin, holding a fake microphone to mouth. "And the 2019 Regional Champions taking a spot at Nationals... The New Directions!!"

Brody played the notes on the piano before he let the playback take over and got into the song, giving it his all. Their voices really did harmonize well together and he was going to enjoy performing this in Glee Club together. It was going to be a hard competition, because not everyone was just going to accept someone else taking a spot in the front row, but he doubted all of them would be as well prepared. Brody chuckled an clapped before holding an imaginary trophy up in the air. "Can you imagine?" He then laughed. "It would be glorious."

Madison sighed wistfully at the thought. "It would be glorious. And plausible, I think. we're strong as a team this year, stronger than I think we were last year. And I really think you and I are bringing a strong number to the table," she listed off. She was learning to not be over confident in herself, but still, optimism was her mainstay. "I think we could all pull it off."

"Definitely." Brody agreed. Most of them had grown up quite a bit this year and appreciated the fact that they were all a team more. They definitely had a shot at the championship this year and Brody would have loved to put that on his resume. And of course he´d loved to with with the team. He enjoyed performing with most people in Glee Club and it would be nice to win with them. "Same time tomorrow?" He then asked as he gathered the sheet music.

She nodded and moved to gather her things. The start of her week hadn't been great, but the magic of a good number had brought back her optimism. Madison hooked her bag on her shoulder and smiled at Brody. "I'll bring my dancing shoes."