#writing trope analysis

[blueteller]

Introducing Character Trope: STEBS (Stoic Traumatized Epic Bastard Softie)

I have tried to look this up on TV tropes, but it does not exist. Not officially, at least. So I decided – I'm introducing new trope. It already exist, someone might as well try and give it a name.

And yeah, this acronym SUCKS, feel free to come up with a better one! But let's talk about what a "STEBS" character is for me, because I've come to the conclusion that it is actually my favorite character type.

First, context. Ever since I've read TCF, I have come across other medias and I was often like, "Hey, this character is basically just like Cale!" – which I feel like, it isn't really fair? I mean, Cale is a great and complex character, but making this comparison constantly makes me feel like I'm undermining the complexity of OTHER characters. Just because Cale shares similarities with other characters doesn't make them copies of him.

So, what exactly is a STEBS?

1) Stoic

This character has a very specific way of acting in non-confrontational situations. It can be respectful, it can be casual, but it is neither extremely friendly nor extremely rude. It's in a calm, pleasant zone, where the character treats others like... well, people. The character doesn't make themselves superior nor inferior, it doesn't matter to them if the other is a beggar or a king. They just are, calm and casual. That's what makes them stoic - NOT lack of expressions or emotions, or lack of humor. It's the way they carry themselves on the regular. This character type makes others feel relaxed because of it, and subconsciously encourages trust and friendship (much to the character's confusion). They will also make a great educator because of it, and will likely act as a mentor or a teacher more than once.

2) Traumatized

Despite the stoicism in their behavior, they actually have a complicated background. Commonly an orphan, even though not always, this person has been through a LOT. But, they don't usually express it. Seeing this character cry or break down is EXTREMELY rare and always a very important scene in a story. It's not that they're not emotional or they always try to bury their trauma, although that does usually apply to them; they're just not vocal about it due to their personality. But oh boy, are they traumatized! Wait for that reveal later in the story though, when it actually becomes plot-relevant.

3) Epic

Despite the character being a stoic type, with a backstory that makes them crave very simple things – be it retirement, respect from their peers, a safe house to live in, a stable job, a family, a specific successful career – they are actually freaking epic where it comes to things they do. They either have great knowledge, memory, or skills in a particular field and they always manage to surprise others with just how competent they are. It can be literal combat skills, magic, being a life-saving surgeon, or even a therapist. But whenever they get their chance to shine, they become a real star.

4) Bastard

A trait that adds a surprising amount of charm and humor to their other traits. Being stoic makes them likeable, being traumatized makes them sympathetic, being epic makes them cool – but being a bastard? It actually just means they're mischievous and have a penchant for chaos. Because this character is meant to make changes in the narrative, like an accidental revolutionary or a transmigrator, they have to possess a cunning streak that might seem mean or selfish at first, but actually never crosses the line into making them despicable. It just makes them an occasional manipulator, but it's usually portrayed in a way that still makes it impossible to make you hate them. In fact, it makes you love them more for it. They are not naive, even if they can be oblivious or silly at times; being a bastard to those who deserve it means being able to get out of sticky situations that would be problematic for paragon heroes. It includes stuff like acting, pranks, cheating, manipulation, shady deals, gambling, stealing, and even criminal behavior, that is actually very understandable due to their specific circumstances.

5) Softie

And if all the previous traits haven't convinced you to love this character yet, the last one surely will. This character, despite having a mean streak, is in fact never mean to innocent people. Actually, they are surprising soft and/or sentimental, especially towards the helpless and children. This character will probably have at least one animal sidekick, at least one paragon protagonist type on their payroll, and most importantly an adopted child - if the previous two don't already fill that spot. This character will make excuses of course, they will claim that they are taking care of others for their own benefits. But you will see quickly that they don't treat others like a heartless manipulator, but more of an overprotective mother-hen. This character, no matter their gender, will eventually become the typical Mom Friend. They will make sure everybody eats well, sleeps well, they get their allowance, pack their lunch before heading out to participate in the plot and probably try to sacrifice themselves for them more than once. They will of course become the mentor figure on top of it, and possibly even be a straight up legal guardian and/or teacher to other important characters.

And this, my friends, is what I call a STEBS character. While it outlines a general, it's not a strict definition, mind you. Even if a character exhibit one trait less than the others (for example not being much of a bastard, or not being very stoic), it still counts as long as you still recognize them as fitting in this "category".

Characters in this category include:

Cale Henituse from Trash of the Count's Family

Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

Aizawa Shota from My Hero Academia

Kakashi from Naruto

Remus Lupin from Harry Potter

Faramir from Lord of the Rings

Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Rimuru Tempest from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Park Moondae from Debut or Die

Won Hwabu from I Reincarnated as a Legendary Surgeon

And many, many others.

Let me know if you have a better name for this very specific character type!

[theeartuaist]

The worst ones never seem like yanderes

At least, not at first - a real wolf in sheep's clothing. They seem just so... normal - peefect even! Well, maybe a few things are off about them but everyone has their eccentricities, right?

Like yes, for some reason ever since they entered your life, people who hurt you somehow end up moving away, changing jobs, or ghosting you entirely? Or person you were interested in suddenly blocked you everywhere after getting an "anonymous tip" about something you supposedly did?

But they are kind, sweet and they like you. Sure, they're always in your whereabouts, somehow. But they also just so happen to like that cafe you go to. A coincidence, of course.

Bonus points, if they have the UNCANNY ability to become your literal dream person. Like, have you noticed how they gradually adopted all your favorite things? How their music taste mysteriously evolved to match yours? How they started dressing in that aesthetic you once mentioned you found attractive?

It's not just about looking the part either. They study you. They watch which fictional characters you swoon over, what traits you admire, what behaviors make you feel safe and comfortable. Then they become that person—or at least, a carefully crafted version of that person that exists solely to ensnare you.

Oh, you like people who are passionate about environmental issues? Suddenly they're volunteering at beach cleanups and posting about sustainability. You mentioned once that you find it attractive when someone can play an instrument? Don't be surprised when they "happen" to be learning guitar and need your encouragement.

The chameleon-like quality is terrifying when you finally see it. All those "coincidental" shared interests, the way they mirror your communication style, how they seem to anticipate your emotional needs... it wasn't organic growth. It was calculated metamorphosis designed with one goal: becoming irreplaceable to you.

Yandere like these both terrify me and intrigue me, because they're patient and you never see it coming until the net has already been set. They're willing to play the long game because they want to shape themselves into everything you've ever wanted, becoming so essential to someone that you almost can't imagine life without them. They'll be the one who makes you believe the basement was your idea—that it's the safest place for you to be.

If you try escape at this point, there's nothing much you can do. Your parents? They charmed them completely. "Such a good influence on you," your mom says. Your close friends? They've already won them over. "They're so good for you," your bestie insists whenever you express the smallest doubt.

They strategically befriend your siblings, your roommates, your coworkers—not because they care about these people, but because each relationship is another avenue of access to you. Another source of information. Another potential ally in keeping you close.

They have already turned your support system into their surveillance network. They'll casually ask your friends about you and your whereabouts, and none would be the wiser. If you ever try to create distance, worst case scenario, they'll make you look like the crazy one, weaponising your entire social network against you.

It starts subtly. They'll share "concerns" about your mental health with your closest friends. "I'm worried about them," they'll whisper with perfectly crafted concern. "They've been so paranoid lately." They'll reframe your legitimate suspicions as irrational jealousy or instability.

They'll remind people of that time you were stressed or that medication you once took or that family history you mentioned in confidence. They create a narrative where you're unstable, and they're the long-suffering, supportive partner who just wants the best for you.

By the time you try to tell someone what's happening, the groundwork has been laid. "That doesn't sound like them at all," your friends say with furrowed brows. "Maybe you should talk to someone..." Your own parents take their side. Your therapist has already heard their version of events.

The ultimate trap: the more you try to expose them, the more you reinforce the narrative that you're the unstable one. Your desperate attempts to break free just tighten the noose. Everyone's watching you with concern now, reporting back to them, convinced they're helping.

The way they use these relationships as hostages. If you ever try to create distance, it's not just them you're leaving—it's potentially everyone who's grown to adore them.

By that point, there's nothing you can do but accept your fate.

[qweenofurheart]

hello. my favorite extremely niche dynamic

[thinkingofausername]

and what if i said curly is the most complex character on the ship? don't get me wrong, i'm in NO way saying any one of them is badly written, but the other characters (and i'm not forgetting it's partially due to jimmy's perspective) are "simpler". anya is a good and kind woman who suffered and had a tragic end. jimmy is a piece of shit. swansea is a grumpy old man who shows signs of a softer heart. daisuke is an innocent, bubbly, young man. there's no discourse whether anya and daisuke are "good" and jimmy "bad". meanwhile curly has enough arguments for either side and there's plenty discourse about him. as kind as he was, he still fucked up. as good as optimism is, it still blinded him. as much praise as he received throughout his career, he still failed when it mattered most. he's the greyest grey i've seen in a while

[arcaneaddict420]

Nox (Wakfu): How to Avoid a Moral Debate

A recurring problem I see in fiction is a villain who presents a moral debate for the hero. A villain with a motivation you can understand or even agree with... until the writer decides to make the villain do something heinous to prevent the audience from rooting for them (which you see in Wakfu with Oropo).

Nox from the same series is known for being a villain that many audience members actually root for. His goal is simple: gather enough energy to rewind time to save his family from dying. The method for doing so is far more complicated: needing to sap the life energy (wakfu) of (probably) billions of lives. He wants to go back 200 years in time (yes, he's that old, don't ask how), meaning he believes he will need to essentially genocide the world to reach his goal.

He justifies himself by saving that the successful time rewind will undo all of his murders and that a failure (presumably disrupting the fabric of time and space) means nothing to him. Horrible actions for an understandable cause. But you may ask, how do the heroes tackle this moral debate? Do they try to make him see the error of his ways? Do they argue his goal is impossible and he's simply living in the past?

Nope. They don't know his goal. He only really tells it to one person, who doesn't live long enough to tell anyone else. Nox doesn't want to be debated. He is already convinced he is right. He doesn't feel the time nor the energy is needed to argue his ideals, he must focus on his goal. And when he fails (only going back 20 minutes) and breaks down crying, the hero Yugo only then begins to understand that Nox is not this pure evil demon that Yugo thought he was. That is how you avoid a moral debate: by having a villain be so convinced they are right they focus on achieving their goal rather than feeling the need to convince others they are right.

[izukutears]

One of my favorite character dynamics is when two people hate each other because they’re a reflection of one another’s insecurities. There’s just something about it I really enjoy.

This happens in Fruits Basket with Kyo and Yuki. They’re both trying to escape from circumstances that the other craves. Kyo is fighting to become an official zodiac member so he won’t face the same fate as the last zodiac cat. And Yuki wants nothing more than to break free from the Sohmas after the isolation and abuse he suffered at Akito’s hands.

This dynamic is also a big part of Deku and Bakugo’s relationship in My Hero Academia. Bakugo was showered with compliments his whole life for his powerful quirk. All the praise he received also came with heavy expectations from himself and others. He grew to believe that power equals strength. Someone with a quirk like his doesn’t fail—doesn’t need saving. His narrow worldview makes quirkless Izuku Midoriya appear very weak. But the animosity mostly stems from the fact that Bakugo sees heroic traits that he lacks in Deku. “Our whole lives I’ve looked down on you. You were quirkless, obviously way behind me. But somehow it always felt like you were ahead of me too. I had to reject you, so I could feel superior.” And while Deku has the qualities of a hero, he didn’t have the power necessary to make his dreams a reality. He watched his tormentor, a seemingly unheroic person, get closer to their shared dream everyday. “I had nothing at first. You had so much going for you that I didn’t have. My idea of victory is so tied to the image of you in my head that in those moments I can’t help but imitate you.”

[thegirlsarethriving]

Things that are killing Quality Television™

Streaming services

SEVERE lack of “theme music for characters”

Even more of a severe lack of “theme music for this character is now played in a different way to indicate A Change Has Occurred (sad, fearful, evil now)”

Casting solely for big names instead of casting for who best suits the role

Sexual scenes

The tiktokification/influencerification of characters’s priorities in life

[thegambitgazette]

The Reluctant Ruler Trope: A Philosophical Inquiry into Unwanted Power, Responsibility, and the Burden of Leadership

WC: 3,489

Index

Introduction The Reluctant Ruler in Literature and Folklore The Existential Dilemma of Unwanted Authority Political Implications and the Burden of Responsibility A Special Case or a Universal Relatability? Closing Words

Introduction

“The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren’t, but, sometimes, it’s hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.” —“Are You A Soldier, Poet, or A King?” quiz by @atlanticsea

Does anyone here remember the “Soldier, Poet, King” quiz that went around about a year or so ago? When I initially took it, I expected “Poet;” you can imagine my surprise when the “King” result absolutely obliterated my mental health.

As I’ve found, a common theme in my writing is the Reluctant Ruler trope, where either 1) a character is thrust into the role of a savior, hero, or king/queen despite not having any wish to lead people or 2) a character assumes the role of a leader without the full understanding of the morally corrupting demands of the job.

The narrative trope of the Reluctant Ruler has long captivated the human imagination, resonating across cultures and epochs. From mythical tales of kings and queens reluctant to ascend the throne to contemporary narratives of reluctant heroes and leaders, this archetype speaks to fundamental questions about the nature of power, responsibility, and the human condition. But what makes this trope such a tragic and believable character? How do we, as an audience, end up relating to and debating the conflicts and moral dilemmas that these characters face? Today, we embark on a philosophical inquiry into the Reluctant Ruler trope, aiming to uncover its deeper meanings and implications within existential and political philosophical discourse.

The Reluctant Ruler in Literature and Folklore

The archetype of the reluctant ruler is deeply embedded in the narratives of literature and folklore, transcending cultural and historical boundaries. Across diverse traditions, tales abound of individuals thrust into positions of leadership against their will, grappling with the weight of power and the burdens of governance.

Shakespeare’s “Hamlet:” One of the most iconic depictions of the Reluctant Ruler can be found in William Shakespeare's timeless tragedy, “Hamlet.” Prince Hamlet, the melancholic protagonist, is suddenly confronted with the task of avenging his father’s murder and assuming the throne of Denmark. Despite being heir to the throne, Hamlet is plagued by doubt, indecision, and existential angst. His famous soliloquy, “To be, or not to be,” encapsulates the profound existential crisis he faces, torn between the demands of duty and the desire for personal authenticity. Hamlet’s reluctance to embrace his role as king stems not only from fear or cowardice but from a profound skepticism about the legitimacy of authority and the corrupting influence of power.

The Arthurian Legend: In the rich tapestry of Arthurian legend, the motif of the Reluctant Ruler is exemplified in the character of King Arthur himself. According to some versions of the myth, Arthur is initially unaware of his royal lineage and is raised as a commoner by Sir Ector. Upon discovering his true identity and rightful claim to the throne, Arthur reluctantly accepts the mantle of kingship, guided by the wise counsel of Merlin and the moral imperative to uphold justice and chivalry. Despite his noble intentions, Arthur grapples with the burdens of leadership, facing betrayals, challenges to his authority, and the tragic consequences of his own choices. His reluctance to embrace his destiny as king reflects the ambivalence inherent in assuming power and the moral ambiguities of governance.

The Biblical Story of Moses: In the Abrahamic traditions, the narrative of Moses provides another compelling example of the Reluctant Ruler trope. According to the Book of Exodus, Moses is initially an ordinary Israelite that ran from his station as a prince of Egypt, content to live as a shepherd in the wilderness. However, when called upon by God to lead his people out of bondage in Egypt, Moses initially resists, citing his own inadequacies and speech impediment. Despite his reluctance, Moses eventually accepts the divine mandate and becomes the revered leader of the Israelites, guiding them through the trials of the Exodus and delivering the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. Moses’s reluctance to assume leadership underscores the theme of human frailty and the transformative power of faith and divine providence.

The Existential Dilemma of Unwanted Authority

Despite not having instances in our lives where we are unexpectedly crowned king or being spoken to by a deity, there are still profound lessons in identity and responsibility that we can pull from these characters.

The Anguish of Freedom and Responsibility

Existentialist philosophers such as Jean-Paul Sartre asserted that “existence precedes essence,” emphasizing the radical freedom and responsibility of human beings to define their own meaning and purpose in a seemingly indifferent universe. For the Reluctant Ruler, this existential freedom becomes a source of anguish and uncertainty. Suddenly endowed with authority and influence, they are confronted with the weight of responsibility and the moral implications of their actions. The existential angst of the reluctant ruler arises from the tension between the desire for autonomy and the demands of duty, as they struggle with the paradox of being simultaneously free and bound by social expectations.

Furthermore, with freedom comes the moral imperative to act responsibly and ethically. The Reluctant Ruler, however, finds themselves burdened with the weight of moral decision-making, as they navigate complex ethical dilemmas and confront the consequences of their actions. Existentialist philosophy emphasizes the inherent responsibility of individuals to create their own moral framework and to confront the ethical implications of their choices with honesty and integrity. The anguish of responsibility lies in the tension between the desire for moral clarity and the recognition of the inherent ambiguity and uncertainty of ethical decision-making. The reluctant ruler must contemplate on the ethical complexities of their role, striving to uphold their moral principles amidst the exigencies of power and governance.

Authenticity and Self-Deception

Central to the existential dilemma of unwanted authority is the quest for authenticity (we already knew this; I wrote two posts on authenticity already that you can check out here and here)—the authentic expression of one’s true self and values in the face of external pressures and expectations. The Reluctant Ruler may experience profound existential alienation as they navigate the demands of their role, questioning whether they are living in accordance with their own genuine desires and beliefs or merely conforming to societal norms and conventions.

In fact, they may be tempted to resort to self-deception—to deceive themselves and others about the true nature of their actions or motivations. Existentialist philosophy warns against the dangers of inauthenticity and self-delusion, highlighting the existential crisis that arises from living inauthentically and betraying one’s own values. The Reluctant Ruler may succumb to the pressures of their position, rationalizing their actions or compromising their principles in order to maintain power or avoid conflict. Self-deception becomes a means of coping with the existential anguish and moral dilemmas inherent in their role, providing a false sense of security and comfort amidst the uncertainties of leadership.

Self-deception ultimately leads to existential alienation—the estrangement from one’s authentic self and the sense of disconnection from the world. The Reluctant Ruler who succumbs to self-deception finds themselves adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity and existential angst, unable to reconcile their actions with their inner convictions.

The Absurdity of Human Existence

“The Absurdity of Human Existence” is a philosophical concept rooted in existentialist thought, particularly articulated by philosophers such as Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre. It posits that human life is inherently absurd, devoid of inherent meaning or purpose, and characterized by the fundamental tension between the human desire for meaning and the indifferent, chaotic nature of the universe.

In assuming positions of power unwillingly, the Reluctant Ruler confronts the absurdity of their situation, grappling with the arbitrary nature of authority and the futility of their efforts to impose order and control upon a chaotic world. The absurdity of leadership lies in the recognition of its inherent limitations and the inevitability of failure and impermanence. Despite their best intentions, the Reluctant Ruler may find themselves overwhelmed by their predicament, struggling to find meaning and significance in a world devoid of ultimate purpose.

Here is where another familiar element of existence comes into play: the illusion of control. The illusion of control is a psychological concept that refers to the tendency of individuals to overestimate their ability to influence or control events, particularly in situations characterized by uncertainty or randomness.

For the Reluctant Ruler, the illusion of control becomes apparent as they assume positions of power unwillingly and attempt to impose order and control upon a world that defies their efforts. Despite their best intentions, they soon come to realize the inherent unpredictability and uncontrollability of the events and circumstances they face. This recognition challenges their preconceived notions of authority and power, revealing the illusory nature of their perceived control.

The Reluctant Ruler may initially believe that they have the ability to shape the course of events and influence outcomes according to their will. However, as they encounter resistance, opposition, and unforeseen challenges, they begin to understand the limitations of their authority and the unpredictable nature of the world they seek to govern. This realization undermines their confidence and exposes the fragility of their sense of control.

Moreover, the illusion of control can lead the Reluctant Ruler to engage in behaviors and strategies aimed at maintaining the illusion of power, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. They may resort to authoritarian measures, manipulation, or denial of reality in an attempt to assert their authority and preserve their sense of control. However, these efforts ultimately prove futile, further reinforcing the absurdity of their situation.

The existential implications of the illusion of control lie in its confrontation with the fundamental unpredictability and contingency of human existence. The Reluctant Ruler's quest for control becomes a Sisyphean task, as they strive to impose order upon a world characterized by chaos and uncertainty. In confronting the illusion of control, they are forced to confront the absurdity of their condition and wrestle with the inherent limitations of human agency in the face of existential uncertainty.

Political Implications and the Burden of Leadership

Naturally, we cannot talk about the complexity behind the Reluctant Ruler without diving into those whom they govern. In examining the reluctant ruler trope through the lens of political philosophy, we confront the complex interplay between governance, legitimacy, and the ethical responsibilities of leadership.

Legitimacy and Consent

The concepts of legitimacy and consent are central to theories of political authority, shaping the foundation of governance and the relationship between rulers and the ruled. In the context of the Reluctant Ruler trope, the legitimacy of political authority is called into question, as leaders may assume power unwillingly, without the explicit consent or endorsement of those they govern.

Political theorists have long debated the sources of legitimacy in governance, seeking to identify the basis upon which political authority is justified. Traditionally, legitimacy has been derived from various sources such as divine right, tradition, charisma, or popular consent. However, the assumption of power by a Reluctant Ruler complicates these traditional sources, as their authority may not be grounded in the typical mechanisms of legitimacy. Instead, the legitimacy of the reluctant ruler may be contingent upon factors such as adherence to legal norms, effectiveness in governance, or recognition by key power holders.

In democratic societies, where the principle of popular sovereignty reigns supreme, the consent of the governed is considered foundational to the legitimacy of political authority. Democratic legitimacy is typically understood to derive from the consent of the people, expressed through free and fair elections. However, the Reluctant Ruler challenges this notion, as their assumption of power may not be the result of popular choice or electoral mandate. Or, on the other hand, perhaps it was, indeed, the populace that raised them to their position while they continued to protest and fight against it. This raises questions about the compatibility of their leadership with democratic ideals and the accountability of political institutions to the will of the people.

A Special Case or Universal Relatability?

The Reluctant Ruler archetype, emblematic of individuals thrust into positions of power against their will, serves as a focal point for exploring the intricate interplay between existential realization, political pragmatism, and ethical considerations within the realm of political philosophy and ethical theory. Through the lenses of political philosophers and ethical theorists, such as Niccolò Machiavelli, Hannah Arendt, Immanuel Kant, and Aristotle, we can seek to elucidate the moral spectrum of the Reluctant Ruler, shedding light on the ethical and existential dimensions of their predicament and the broader implications for human nature and governance.

Political Philosophers:

Thinkers such as Niccolò Machiavelli and Hannah Arendt might consider the ethical and political dimensions of the Reluctant Ruler trope. They would examine questions of legitimacy, authority, and the responsibilities of leadership, shedding light on how the Reluctant Ruler’s predicament illuminates broader themes in political philosophy.

Niccolò Machiavelli

Niccolò Machiavelli, a seminal figure in political philosophy, is often associated with political realism, a perspective that emphasizes practical considerations over moral ideals in governance.

Machiavelli’s political realism emphasizes the importance of power dynamics, interests, and strategic calculations in politics. He might argue that the Reluctant Ruler cannot afford to be guided solely by moral principles or existential concerns but must instead prioritize the preservation of authority and the maintenance of order.

For him, the reluctant ruler’s primary concern should be establishing and consolidating their authority, regardless of the circumstances of their ascension to power.

He famously suggests in The Prince that rulers should be prepared to act ruthlessly when necessary, even if it means sacrificing ethical principles.

The ends justify the means in politics, and that the reluctant ruler must be willing to employ any means necessary to achieve their goals.

Ultimately, Machiavelli would likely emphasize the importance of maintaining order and stability as the primary goals of the reluctant ruler. He might argue that the ruler's legitimacy and authority depend on their ability to govern effectively and preserve the social order, even if it requires making difficult decisions or compromises.

Machiavelli might caution against allowing existential angst or moral qualms to undermine the reluctant ruler's ability to govern decisively. He would likely stress the need for pragmatism and flexibility in navigating the complexities of political life.

Hannah Arendt

Hannah Arendt was a prominent political theorist known for her contributions to the understanding of totalitarianism, the nature of power, and the concept of political action.

Arendt would delve into the existential angst experienced by the reluctant ruler, examining how their struggle with assuming power unwillingly reflects broader themes of human existence. She might explore the absurdity of the situation, where individuals find themselves thrust into positions of authority without their consent or desire.

Arendt would likely emphasize the importance of individual conscience in guiding the actions of the reluctant ruler. She might suggest that the ruler's moral integrity is central to their ability to exercise legitimate and effective leadership, even in the face of existential uncertainty.

She might also argue that political action is inherently bound up with questions of ethics and morality, and that the reluctant ruler's existential crisis serves as a catalyst for deeper reflection on the ethical dimensions of governance.

Arendt might caution against sacrificing moral integrity for the sake of pragmatic considerations, suggesting that the Ruler’s adherence to their conscience is ultimately what determines the legitimacy of their leadership.

Ethical Thinkers

Thinkers like Immanuel Kant and Aristotle would likely explore the ethical dilemmas faced by the Reluctant Ruler. They would analyze how the tension between personal ethics and pragmatic considerations shapes the Ruler’s decision-making process, offering insights into human moral psychology and the pursuit of virtuous leadership.

Immanuel Kant

Kant’s deontological ethics emphasizes the importance of moral duty and universal principles in guiding ethical behavior. He would likely analyze the Reluctant Ruler’s predicament by focusing on the categorical imperative, which states that individuals must act according to principles that can be universally applied.

Kant might argue that the Reluctant Ruler faces a moral obligation to uphold certain ethical principles, even if it conflicts with pragmatic considerations. He would emphasize the importance of acting out of a sense of duty and moral integrity, rather than being swayed by expediency or self-interest.

Aristotle

Aristotle’s virtue ethics focuses on the development of moral character and the cultivation of virtuous qualities. He would likely analyze the Reluctant Ruler’s ethical dilemmas by considering how their decisions reflect their moral virtues and character traits.

Aristotle might argue that the reluctant ruler should strive to embody virtues such as courage, wisdom, and justice in their governance. He would emphasize the importance of practical wisdom (phronesis) in navigating the complexities of political life, suggesting that the ruler should aim to achieve eudaimonia, or flourishing, through virtuous leadership.

On Our Nature

Needless to say, not only can we reflect on our own ethical “what-ifs” in parallel to the Reluctant Ruler trope; through this character study, we can unearth a multitude of political and existential debates and still never settle on a universal answer.

The perpetual debates and unanswered questions surrounding the Reluctant Ruler trope speak volumes about human nature and the complexity of individual experiences. At its core, the Reluctant Ruler archetype encapsulates the fundamental tensions between existential realization, ethical responsibility, and political pragmatism, reflecting the intricate interplay of human desires, values, and motivations.

Firstly, the inability to settle on a universal answer regarding the Reluctant Ruler trope underscores the inherent complexity and ambiguity of human existence. Human nature is characterized by its multifaceted makeup, encompassing a diverse range of perspectives, beliefs, and experiences. The reluctance of individuals to embrace leadership roles speaks to our innate desire for autonomy, authenticity, and personal fulfillment, as well as our inherent susceptibility to doubt, uncertainty, and existential angst. The analyses surrounding the Reluctant Ruler trope reflect the diversity of human experiences and the myriad ways in which individuals examine with questions of identity, purpose, and morality.

Moreover, the fact that many individuals can relate to the Reluctant Ruler trope on a personal level speaks to the universality of human struggles and aspirations. Whether it be the fear of assuming responsibility, the desire for authenticity and self-expression, or the ethical dilemmas inherent in leadership, the themes embodied by the Reluctant Ruler resonate with people from all walks of life.

However, the Reluctant Ruler trope also serves as a mirror through which we can reflect on our own ethical convictions, political beliefs, and existential uncertainties. By examining the complexities of this archetype, we are compelled to confront our own values, biases, and assumptions, and to consider how they shape our perceptions of leadership, responsibility, and human nature. The inability to settle on a universal answer regarding the Reluctant Ruler trope challenges us to confront the inherent ambiguity and uncertainty of human existence, prompting us to engage with questions of identity, meaning, and morality in our own lives.

Closing Words

What initially appears as a narrative device in storytelling reveals itself as a mirror reflecting the intricacies of our own ethical frameworks, existential dilemmas, and political realities.

At its essence, the Reluctant Ruler archetype embodies the universal struggle between autonomy and responsibility, authenticity and conformity, freedom and obligation. Yet, beyond the realm of fiction, it prompts us to reflect on our own ethical convictions and existential uncertainties. Are we, too, begrudging in our own lives, navigating the delicate balance between personal desires and societal expectations? Do we confront the existential angst of freedom and responsibility, or do we succumb to the illusion of control and self-deception?

Moreover, the Reluctant Ruler challenges us to examine the legitimacy of political authority and the ethical responsibilities of leadership. In a world where governance is often characterized by power struggles and moral ambiguities, how do we reconcile the demands of pragmatism with the imperatives of justice and integrity? How do we ensure that those in positions of power govern with wisdom, virtue, and compassion?

Ultimately, the Reluctant Ruler trope serves as a catalyst for introspection and dialogue, inviting us to confront the complexity of human nature and the ethical dimensions of governance. As we scrutinize the unresolved questions and perpetual debates surrounding this archetype, we are reminded of the enduring relevance of philosophy in our quest for understanding, meaning, and ethical clarity.

In the end, the Reluctant Ruler challenges us not only to ponder the existential dilemmas of fictional characters but also to confront the ethical complexities of our own lives and societies. It is through this introspective journey that we may gain deeper insights into the nature of leadership, autonomy, and the human condition, and perhaps, find a path towards a more just, compassionate, and authentic world.

[huginsmemory]

Did anyone want a deranged scientific-background theorized sexual characteristics and reproductive methods of Euclidians, that is based on meta analysis on canon information on said Euclidians (cough, on Bill's reproductive methods, cough)... Haha jk I'm not asking it's in progress already

[stellarblitz]

Tropes I've noticed (in an attempt to explain to myself why I prefer human/giant stories)

Stories of tinies interacting with humans:

More often than not feature more than one tiny, banding together to brave the world

Able to hide more easily from humans, may be mistaken for mice or other vermin

May be hunted by humans, but it's usually due to a misconception (exterminator, etc) and might ultimately be seen as harmless

Can more readily improvise tools with abandoned objects, even in a world not made for them

May find shelter within a house easily, living within the walls undetected

Even if initially fearful of humans, they may be able to find security and safety with one if they form a bond

Focus on the mundane as alien and unknowable, but ultimately a boon to survival

Mindset: Small Prey Animal

Stories of giants interacting with humans:

More often than not feature a lone giant

Cannot hide nearly as easily from humans, cannot be mistaken for anything other than... a monster

May be hunted by humans, but it's harder to break their misconceptions about what they are (esp for more monstrous-looking giants)

This world is inherently fragile, cannot improvise as easily outside of magical means (or taking from humans, something they may view as morally questionable)

Must find shelter in caves, abandoned buildings, other places not fit for long-term survival

Must find safety by themselves ultimately, because a human cannot possibly protect them adequately; may not trust themselves to not hurt humans and thus be more reclusive and closed-off

Focus on the mundane as fragile, incomplete, insufficient, impossible to coexist within comfortably

Mindset: Megafauna Endling

I have a bias obviously, I tend to not like borrower stories as much as giant cryptid stories (for lack of a better descriptor)

and if the giant has access to a comfortable house right off the bat it's like "ok... well what's the point of them being a giant in this story then" (I say this knowing giants in Merlen-Gala are generally integrated into society... oh but hobs aren't! haha checkmate me)

And it's bc of these tropes that I feel that human/giant stories more accurately reflect my specific neurodivergent experience... not everyone's obviously but mine in particular haha

No shade to people who like borrower stories obviously!! I'm just self-reflecting lol. I grew up reading borrowers so they hold a special place in my heart, it's just... huh. maybe things like Godzilla did more for me lol

There's plenty of angst and drama to be found in both formats... please tell me anything I've failed to consider!! :0 I love just talking about tropes like this lol

[glooomyshroom]

Short Analysis of the former emperor:

I was recently watching clips of The Apothecary Diaries on YouTube (I don’t have Crunchyroll woomp woomp) and found it really interesting/intriguing that they made the former emperor so beautiful in his youth. Usually, in almost every anime I’ve come across, characters (especially men) who prey on children typically LOOK off-putting. They’ll either have creepy eyes, lots of wrinkles, be over 50, be overweight, or just say things that are outright vulgar. But the former emperor had none of those in the beginning. And when they DID reveal him, I found myself doubting if he actually committed those acts, because media so heavily conditions us to see beauty as an equal to goodness. I honestly really respect that decision on the writers’s part, because it reminds us that real life is not so black and white. The most beautiful person in the room can be a monster underneath, while the ugliest person in the room can be the most virtuous. It makes The Apothecary Diaries feel more down-to-earth than a lot of other anime, and I think other shows could learn a lot from it :)

[kopykunoichi]

Stumbled on this old reddit post and decided to go track down this novel for myself. I just bought a copy. I'll have to run it through Google translate or some other AI because I can't read Japanese, but I tested translating a few screenshots of it and it read very smoothly in English.

Here's some highlight from the article and my thoughts:

It definitely seems like this novel is considered canon to Oda, since he had a hand in it and he has included content that he had to cut from the OG story, but was later added as filler. I'm assuming he read it before it was published, so whatever made it through the final cuts was approved by him.

I'm very interested in the extra scenes with Smoker and Tashigi. I love that it clarifies that Tashigi was the first one to defeat Billy the Orca and take his sword. Smoker just finished him off.

Having already read translations of this portion of the novel, this isn't surprising, but it's nice to see that the casual reader is picking up on it, too. It's so blatant, you can't not see it. This is Zoro we're talking about, after all - if he's blushing and his heart is beating faster and he's connecting his own reaction to *feelings*, this is a big deal.

I also like how the author adds that as the story progresses, Zoro is already seeing Tashigi's dissimilarities to Kuina and recognizing her uniqueness. And, for her part, Tashigi is already realizing he's not like other pirates.

This ☝️is important. I hear so many people talking about how weak Tashigi is because she loses fights. But her sword skill is very real. Is she ever going to be a threat to Zoro? Of course not. He's a beast, and neither one of them *actually* have any bloodlust toward each other. Maybe some other sort of lust...

I mean, come on, this is the image of Zoro that lives rent free in Tashigi's head after their first encounter.

Did you catch that? Let's slow it down.

Anyway, I digress. Tashigi has very good technical skill, but lacks the stamina to last long against Zoro, who also has skill, good instincts, and vastly superior strength. But it's important to note that he was having to work hard in their first encounter, because that formed the foundation of his respect for her.

Their first fight is, in many ways, the inevitable conclusion of all his fights with Kuina. Had she lived, he would have eventually had a duel with her that ended the same way his duel with Tashigi ended.

But with Tashigi, there is no sense of triumph. There is no pleasure in it for him; no satisfaction. Kuina died undefeated and that image of her has remain undisturbed in his head. But then, this woman - who reminds him of Kuina in looks, attitude, and skill - falls to him. The victory is hollow. It's like he finally beat Kuina, but he didn't.

And what's worse for him, he's finding himself feeling attracted to this woman who reminds him of his childhood friend...except for her glasses, and her girly blouses, and her nerdy little sword book, and her adorable clumsiness, and her feminine curves, and her determination to take noteworthy swords out of the hands of those who are undeserving of them, and the fact that she's a Marine whose sworn duty it is to pursue him.

But even with all those conflicting feelings and strong emotions that confuse the hell out of him, he does respect her. And as time goes on and they have more encounters with each other, that respect is shown to be mutual.

The attraction is there from the first encounter for both of them, as showcased by the novel's description of his physiological reactions to her, and by her mental image of him later in the show, complete with the slow pan up his chiseled body, and that wolfish grin on his face.

The beginnings of the mutual respect is also established at their first meeting, and becomes solidified in Punk Hazard. I'll write more analysis of that arc at another time. But the groundwork for mutual attraction and respect is established on day one of them meeting. And those are the ingredients for a healthy relationship.

I firmly believe that Tashigi's character was written specifically to be Zoro's endgame relationship. Her contribution to the overall plot of the story is negligible, except for where her story intersects with his. She is repeatedly depicted as his weakness; the one person he can't fight. She unsettles him and he finds that terrifying, so he runs away at first. Then later we see him worried about her, while at the same time calling her annoying (Sasusaku, anyone?). We see him protecting her, but giving her space to do her own thing, because he respects her.

I'm telling y'all, these are the sort of tropes that shonen writers eat up when they're setting up their endgame ships. Shonen doesn't focus on romance, but the writers aren't blind to it, either. Often, they have a clear idea from the beginning who they're going to bring together in the end. Back in the day when I was watching Bleach and Naruto as they were first airing, I called the main ships really early on in the series. Naruto/Hinata, Sasuke/Sakura, Ichigo/Orihime, and Renji/Rukia came as zero surprise to me. I was legit surprised at how many people didn't see it coming. I could do a whole post on Tashigi/Renji and Zoro/Rukia parallels, because there are a LOT.

I would be very surprised if we get to the end of One Piece and Oda doesn't bring Zoro and Tashigi together as a couple. She's the only person that he seems remotely attracted to out of all the characters he is shipped with, and Oda has taken pains to establish a strong mutual respect between them. Zoro simply wouldn't be in a relationship with someone he didn't respect for both their skills and their values, and Tashigi checks both those boxes.

[artisimpossible]

You: Writing villains of color or queer or disabled villains is bad representation and problematic.

Me, an intellectual: Writing villains of color or queer or disabled villains is an exploration of how society as a whole inherently vilifies people on the basis of being people of color or exhibiting traits that are perceived as "queer" or in line with any disability. By allowing these villains complex morality and human experiences, we dive into the nuances of how societal framing shapes everything, from who's allowed to be "the good guy" to who is allowed redemption to who deserves a happy ending. Even marginalized villains who cause irreparable harm serve as an exploration of the ways that harms committed by marginalized people in real life are held to higher standards of punitive justice, and how marginalized people's errors are inherently seen as "irreparable" because marginalized people are inherently seen as undeserving of second chances and forgiveness. Allowing marginalized people to step into the role of a villain but still be humanized, to cause true, *devastating* harm but still be seen as a complete person is a direct challenge to systemic bigotry in a way that writing "good representation" never could be.

[charbroiledchicken]

cannibalism as a metaphor for obsessive love/limerence in literature is officially one of my favourite things ever.

you love me so much that you will never be satisfied with my closeness until we are the same being? until our hearts are so intertwined you can feel the twin pulses under your skin? that you cannot properly exhibit your love unless you give me yourself entirely, preferably on a silver platter?

perfect.

[edwardsissyhandsthtdanceslikeabb]

if azula needs redeeming, why wasnt she?

i read this analysis of Azuko? Zukla? idk but a critique of their sibling dynamic, particularly within the context of doomed siblings, and tho i don’t agree with it, it’s a testament to its writer that there’s innate value in carving out my thoughts from their own.

so a lot of my disagreement boils down to the fact that the way the analysis construed zuko & azula, from characterizing them as doomed siblings, to the way azula’s breakdown is framed, is a problem of taste and inferences, and how these interpretive elements can be incongruent with technical aspects like intent, convention, medium, or the functional mechanics of art overall.

firstly, i think its very important to highlight that while elite art is holistic and multifaceted, it is doubly focused and premeditated, and its constituents all occupy a purpose and position within it, as they are narrative elements first and foremost. which complicates things when creation and consumption are both such human, evocative processes, but i think looking at the rudimentary layers of a story are the north stars in subjective landscapes like this. and most salient of these, is the story’s anti-colonial roots, centering indigeneity explicitly, and the cultural, spiritual and earthly relationships therein, with the main conflict being restoring the dignity and autonomy of the subjugated, alongside the internal work and opposition that are necessitated in doing so. everything stems from that, and though there is complexity and nuance therein, and the story itself is immensely liberal in execution, it is also ultimately a good vs bad narrative, which it has every right to be, bc colonialism is bad, and colonialists are bad.

therefore, atla inherently adheres to convention, and has a preestablished idealistic framework. to illustrate this, it utilizes two central characters, both encapsulations of the dualistic nature of oppressor and the oppressed, and navigated thusly as foils to one another. zuko is thereby, the deuteragonist, and the depth or lack thereof, of his environment are equally conditioned by his position, as the confines of the kid’s tv medium, serialization as well as narrative structuring itself, craft him. kill your darlings and all that lol.

however, these positionalities, while abiding convention, are not binary, and while conclusive, they are not absolutist. zuko for example, is antithetical to a Madonna, stressed by him even having a redemption to realize, and azula too is done an injustice by any reduction to a whore / imperfect victim archetype. this compartmentalization, is luckily ill-fitting in accommodating their totality, and doesn’t incorporate the fact that consequence, in avatar, is not a condemnation of personhood, but a retaliation to action, and has mangled indiscriminately, with azula’s case actually, being the reclamation of principles and in-world intentionality.

to begin with, zuko, while most recognized for his redemption, is not functionally the redemptive character™, he’s an example of the sacrifice, sincerity and labor that are inherent to anti-colonial action facilitated by an absconding oppressor, of the inborn empathy and active resistance that are needed for a system to change, and how you don’t just get there through platitudes or amicability. those thematic niceties are ofc inherent to his story bc he’s fleshed out and the things that inspired him thusly are too, but that emotional and relational floweriness is a consequence of his actions, not their driving force (being embraced by imperial idolization, by his royal family, was not fulfilling), what drove him is a fundamental and intrinsic ideological disdain for the imperialist war machine — it was ultimately, an abstraction of self – by acting in service of others, which unlike letting imperialist standards (e.g. chauvinism and parasitism and “honor”) puppeteer him as an instrument of violence, is ironically, an act of true autonomy and discernment. deriving your value from mutualism and earning one’s stature, instead of asserting yourself on others and letting corrosive and paternalistic worldviews (and by extension the selfishness & self absorption i.e “honor” innate to that) rule your destiny.

azula, however, is meant to be an inversion of that, is meant to reflect what happens when you reject morality or connection, instead letting control and superiority entrap you. she is explicitly a cautionary tale, which also comes with its own oversights and inelegant implications, but she likewise, greatly exemplifies the internal decay and loneliness inherent to alienating yourself through cruelty and stratification. and is it not possible then that a girl who has valued herself by what she can inflict on others, would then have the very sanctity of existence warped at no longer being able to dominate, no longer deemed the ideal? is infection not a thing that savages, before it spreads? in this way, azula is poignant.

as the more intimate face of imperialism, she is humanized in her parasitism, but it is not used to soften her behavior, nor is it used to hand her redemption. it is not smth that she is owed for the very coincidence of her birth or blood, its earned, and she did not earn nor want it.

so when a character that suggested the utter evisceration of marginalized groups, and thereafter tried to murder a personification of colonial survivor’s guilt and endangered practices, is consequently left to mourn her superiority, just as her father before her, its smth we sympathize with within reasonable boundaries. when her brother, who she abused, doesn’t martyr himself to azula’s interiority, instead laboring towards his own destiny and happiness, rather than the genesis of azula’s redemption, that is not inconsistency, it’s peace. its making peace despite the fact that some would rather rot in the entrails of imperialism than afford its victims value, would rather hurt others, and in turn themselves, than embrace healing and progress

— (plus inflicting his values may not in fact heal, when healing is not inherently uniform, and growing is not innately moralistic).

now, there’s a whole nurture vs nature angle to this as well and these ontological arguments are often touchy, yes zuko had ursa and iroh. yes zuko was forced to challenge his preconceptions, but zuko wasn’t diametric to these things, and the supplementations he did receive were always compensatory. zuko was deemed genetically inferior by ozai and thusly ostracized, hence ursa’s gentle partiality, zuko was then mutilated and exiled, and naturally needed supervision, which was provided by an overseer who mirrored his disgrace. if denied these safeguards zuko would’ve been denied even palliative care, whereas azula was perceived as needing none when she was revered positionally and familialy.

yes being pit against zuko was toxic and destructive but its not at all equivocal to the outright abuse zuko suffered. ofc the threat of it was implicit but those who abet or orbit abusers are not inherently under threat, and i think azula is characterized similarly. it's not fear that colors her outburst against ozai, nor coerces her silence, its entitlement and a sanctifying of hierarchies: “i deserve to be by your side.” - it’s respect that earns her silence and it’s the promise of respect that goads her acquiescence, the prospect of accumulation. this is ofc not a healthy mindset to have bc azula hinges her value on perfection, performance and status, and it's evident how the pressure of that collapsed her, but it was a pressure she had embraced before. it was her adeptness that ozai latched onto, and before the inviolability of it was challenged, azula took advantage of her nature, she weaponized it, and it was that eagerness that ozai exploited.

as viewers we process this as the objectification it is, but its reality, is a systemic natured dehumanization, ingrained in any culture that seeks to mechanize its constituents (which is all societies actually. we are all complicit). ozai thinks he is honing her as did his father and his colonialist forefathers prior, and herein is not abuse in the conventional sense, but rather a tradition of commodification that extricates skill and hegemonizes personhood, it’s an existential death necessitated by imperialism. it’s the death of agency. azula embraced this necrotic philosophy until she was confronted with the consequences of her rot, and *that’s* what she got. consequences. of which she was spared throughout.

it was never personal.

sure we get glimpses of her humanity, her vulnerability, but they’re paltry and muddied too by an undercurrent of duplicitousness. azula flaunts zuko’s impending demise, yet later, includes him in her outings. azula relishes zuko’s mutilation, but also fetches him from the beach house. she falsely welcomes zuko back, then implores he join her sincerely. and azula shares her pain from ursa yet spurns softness still, from MaiKo’s juvenile fondness to ursa’s own guiding attempts. azula is ceaselessly cruel to zuko, then spontaneously benevolent to him once he has seemingly subsumed the apparatus of colonialism. and gives him credit for killing the avatar, yet shows a sly inclination of his revival. this isn’t to insinuate that azula is ontologically evil or that she’s an unnuanced, mono-faceted individual. and she was a child. yet zuko’s youth didn’t spare him from the grotesque terrors of death and alienation, and it didn’t temper her perpetual antagonism and bloodlust, she is demonstrably self-serving, and this is evidenced throughout.

this is not to shame her in her passivity, nor an expectation that she martyr herself or even commiserate with her brother. rather, her downfall is a reaping of autonomy, made subject to the tendency of one’s active leanings. in which the choice of her sibling abuse exacerbated her societal abuse, all festering, foremost, the abuse of her own soul.

so, relatedly, is it not possible that a character of her cunning, who emotionally degraded her own sibling while gleefully championing his attempted imprisonment, before graduating to attempted murder by preparing to electrocute him while he was enfeebled on the ship, then later tried to kill aang, tried to kill katara, gloated abt intending to kill zuko at the air temple, injured iroh while making her escape from the gaang + zuko. also endangered and coerced ty lee into joining her, imprisoned mai, nearly killed zuko as he tried to save katara (which was likely her intent, or at least meant to cripple zuko’s composure — dishonoring the agni kai) — need i go on. azula’s benevolence is conditional, and consistently transactional, and so is it not possible then that she gauged zuko’s swaying allegiances against her own armaments - when faced with iroh, a waterbending master, an earthbending master with groundbreaking abilities (>_-), and the literal avatar, after observing their – plus aang’s growth, and having been cornered before, then decided rather, that having another asset, puppet, contingency plan, in her pocket wouldn’t hurt.

maybe she was being benevolent, or maybe, azula, who too sat in liberated territory and was gifted a chance for growth and morality, rejected that chance over the value therein, tenderized for extraction, parasitizing instead. maybe azula too, was acting in the imperialist tradition of exploitation. maybe she holds the capacity for compassion and care — which we have gleaned regardless — but the tangentials and hypotheticals of the world are often not what is actualized, and they are not a thing that can be affected. empathy is an active pursuit, and it is mutualistic, provisional — and so there is not a ‘who’ of azula’s redemption, but a what, the ‘what’ that is to be influenced. the personalization of one’s own form, of an internal receptiveness to commiserate with. bc as is, azula is merely a husk of colonialism, and being a husk of colonialism is meant to be sad, its deliberately tragic, unflinchingly pitiable. disorienting. life shattering. that’s what you’re meant to feel, it is not an inadvertence of zuko’s arc, and it is not a coincidence of the narrative.

she is a trajectory within herself, and her fate is a whole within itself. just as zuko labors towards rectifying his nation bc he needs to, bc there is value in dismantling colonialism, not bc the imperialists are owed it, but bc everyone else is. zuko also watches, not with apathy or boredom as his sister implodes at this, but with pity, with grief, bc azula manipulated herself a bed of corpses, and it is not him who must choose not to lie in it. when healing is intentional, is active, and zuko has chosen to heal. when azula cannot be handheld and shielded from her war crimes and systemic violence bc she wasn’t hugged enough as a child. zuko too lost a core sense of support mournfully young, and moreover at many points in his development journey, but the inclination that told him to speak up in the war room is doubly the same inclination that told him to afford jin affection, or help the earth kingdom family, and save his crew member in the storm, despite this very vulnerability catalyzing his banishment.

azula had friends and she had adoration and she had paternalistic validation, but contentment is unattainable when accumulation is your driving force. and the only thing left to cannibalize is yourself. with this, azula’s downfall was not only inevitable, it was natural, foretold even. and just as iroh doesn’t adhere to whatever deficits were sewn unwittingly into ozai, nor is it demanded — it also isn’t azula’s fallibilities that now damn her. azula isn’t the “bad sibling”, devoid of nuance, she’s the bad person™. despite it all.

katara has ptsd and toph is blind, sokka is a non-bender and zuko was deemed handicapped then maimed thereafter, instability is not azula’s punishment, its an externalization of her decay, and its meant to be unrelenting and all-encompassing, because abstraction and objectification are totalitarian afflictions. likewise, her condemnation is not a consequence of gender marginalization, tho the undertones of spoilt brat tropes and somehow unconventional, inevitably crazed women sully our palates. we taste bias even where it perishes, even as the fire nation is seemingly meritocratic, and unabashed, imperfect girls are idealized story-wide. from toph to azula herself, who may be conflated for a sanist archetype, yet challenges gender roles and infantilization in her prowess and militancy, as she’s sterile and calculating and impassive, where zuko is feeble and undermined, aimless, emotional. she is far beyond any trope, contrivance or embellishment, and doesn’t flourish or encumber zuko’s arc, as he equally isn’t made to for her’s.

azula is a force beyond zuko, until she can no longer deny him, and azula haunts zuko until she doesn’t, until her own crossroads loom, her contrived dualism of failure or victor, aggressor and victim. and she is forced then to reckon with loss. azula’s end is not a reductionism at hands other than her own, her fall is not zuko’s win, nor does the show frame it gloriously, there is no joy in her misery, no minimization of her tragedy, from the score to the tone, in her chilling, animalistic pules, azula languishes in her self-destruction, and it is one entirely independent of zuko. with this, we are shown azula’s nuance, the unthinking allyship she inspired, yet the coercion and dereliction it veiled. the camaraderie and kindness she offered, to warn zuko against visiting iroh, to credit him unduly, yet the threat it masked, to stay unadulterated, to stay unctuous. the vilification she detested, and yet the love she scorned for its fragility and irrepressibility. ursa doesn’t confirm azula’s worst fears, ironically, sadistically, any love she may have held haunts her, is nearly derisory. impossible.

and while no debate exists that ursa neglected azula, or that she failed her duty to nurture and cater her parenting to azula’s needs and interiority, the factors that complicated that, such as ozai’s own domineering hold, alienated mother and child from any means of cultivating real love, and thusly the influences azula did ingest were brutality, unchallenged in nature, entirely singular. it’s a self-flagellation, a ritualistic and sustained self alienation, amputating any vulnerability, all perceived pluralities.

so azula, despite not consistently having her perspective expressed, still encompasses the products of colonial rearing, and its destructiveness isn’t meant to be contested, sugarcoated, not with others and not with the self. fascism has denied us azula the person, and that may be a consequence of format, but it isn’t a consequence of the narrative. nor realism. we are meant to acknowledge azula’s complexities in the intentionality of their artful crafting, while not undermining that architects of oppression still bleed. one can see themselves in azula’s struggles, in the humanity of her endeavors, while not decontextualizing the tenets of her positionality, while not undermining that every character that claimed their redemption, did so by choosing another, by loving.

and azula’s journey to love, to embracing her own humanity, is a journey solely her own. this isn’t to say that she doesn’t deserve support or guidance or love or care, but that’s not the point. that wasn’t the intent of her character, and that wasn’t the thematic priority of the show. it's an extrapolation. bc some ppl suck and that’s ok. and there are ppl you cannot help and that is ok. and sometimes the ppl you love will suffer, and that has to be ok. bc sometimes you choose yourself, sometimes you choose what you can, and that is ok. it is okay to grow, and it is ok to move on. that’s the point. it is ok to spit out the poison. forgive any tactlessness therein, but it’s a tough pill, and its meant to have an aftertaste.

however, it's not cynicism that one is meant to internalize, and it's not intended to inspire fatalism either, although the symbology of azula’s toxicity is excised, the human struggles she encapsulated remain, the intimacy of our empathy persists, and it will color the fire nation’s vices and pitfalls. bc when one can’t just will away indoctrination, as we saw with both azula and zuko, and even still with paku or toph’s parents, as hierarchies are intersectional and multifaceted, and in the trials of decolonization there will thusly be azulas’, but there will also be zukos’, and pakus’, and sokkas’. all with their very intimate, equally human complexes to confront, unravel and rectify. just as there sit your perspectives, as there too exist my own influences.

and while zuko may merely be a beneficiary of the prevailing zeitgeist (tho imperialism explicitly requires non-consent lol), where azula once functioned, and he may be no more ontologically owed redemption than azula, or deserving love over her, when in the forever-war of subjugation, it isn’t abt ontology or criteria, nor logicisms or hypotheticals, its abt action. so zuko tries. and that resistance, that anti-colonial praxis, is a good start, it’s the most meaningful start. zuko isn’t king, or redeemed, bc he’s genetically “good”, its bc he tries. that’s the point. not how efficient he is or how proficiently he embodies apparatus.

reparation. that’s. the point. the triumph of resistance juxtaposing the tragedy of complacency. bc nothing is immutable, and so nothing is too far gone.

.

.

Besides… it’s only a kid’s show heh.

[dexjarxenoengage]

Have you ever noticed that Alear and the Four Royals acts as a Five Man Band? The story may not show that well, but their gameplay, nations and represented Emblems demonstrate that they are this trope perfectly. Veyle acts as the Sixth Ranger (actually 11th Hour Ranger). They best represent this trope as well because Alear, the Royals and Veyle are the only playable characters that can’t die on Classic Mode (oh and Vander too, but he’s just a mentor kind of guy).

The Five Man Band is among one my favorite tropes in media. Why? IDK why, it just is. I used to be a Power Rangers fan, five is usually among the highest these teams get to. In which case it becomes a Three plus two scenario where a Power Trio becomes a Five Man Band (Ninja Storm, Dino Thunder, and Jungle Fury come to mind).

I bring up this trope to talk about Fire Emblem Engage specifically, Alear, and the Four Primary Royals fit this trope. And it’s not just in team composition, IMO, the Emblems they are best known for (specifically in the Prologue cutscene) best give idea on why they fit the role in the team.

Alear the The Hero/Leader of the team; because obviously they are the Fire Emblem Lord, they are the Divine Dragon: the only one who can summon the Emblems who can save the world from the Fell Dragon. And just like any other Fire Emblem Lord in the franchise, if they are defeated, it’s a game over. Pretty typical Fire Emblem knowledge.

Alear’s most common Emblem is Marth. Marth is the first ever Fire Emblem Lord in the franchise, the idealistic leader that his loved ones trust and follows. Marth is the first of many sword wielding heroes in the franchise. Swords are a very common weapon type for heroes (Micaiah is the only Emblem in the main game that canonically never uses swords).

Alfred is the Lancer. Who usually acts a foil to the Hero/Leader, usually is their first/best friend/companion, and/or is the first to question any decision the leader/hero makes. Not every character of the archetype has to be a rival or a jerk (or in most cases both), Alfred is one of those examples. Alfred is the first Royal to join. Firene has the closest ties with Lumera, and Alfred appears in more cutscenes than any other Royal in the game. (Double points for having Lances as his primary weapon type).

The Emblem he uses in the Prologue is Lucina. Lucina is the not the central protagonist of Awakening, Chrom is. Even still, Lucina is a character who acts as an emotional foil to Chrom. More importantly, Lucina is the descendant of Marth, who happens to be Alear’s most associated Emblem.

Diamant is the big guy/muscle of Alear’s team. Brodia is the Kingdom of Might after all. Diamant is the most physically imposing with his main stats being his HP, Strength and Defense. Diamant is also the tallest and oldest member of the team (age being 25, Alfred is 21, Ivy is 20, Timerra is 18 and Alear is physically 17).

Diamant’s national Emblem is Roy, who gives Sword Power as an inheritance skill that allows Diamant to hit harder with a sword, but at the cost of avoid. Rise Above (Emblem Roy’s Engage skill) increases his level and stats along with them. Ironically, Roy was 15 years old in his games, Diamant is the oldest Royal, yet Roy is one of the younger FE lords next to Leif.

Next is Ivy, befitting of Elusia’s title of the Kingdom of Knowledge, she is the smart girl. Ivy has gone to school and was at the top of her class. (Studying is also one of her hobbies and likes items regarding them) Ivy is the most level headed of the Royals. Ivy is the only member of this main team that uses magic, and her ability to fly and heal is invaluable in a Fire Emblem game.

Ivy is associated with two Emblems rather than one. Lyn (the Emblem entrusted to Elusia) has the ability to summon doubles that can be used to distract the enemy. While Leif is an Emblem that switches between your current weapons it best suit the situation (often for the worst, unfortunately). It’s also worth noting that Soren is the DLC Emblem entrusted to Alt. Elusia. Soren is the Tactician of the Greil Mercenaries.

Finally, Timerra acts the emotional core to the team as the heart. Despite being far more politically savvy than what her peppy personality might suggest, she still is a genuine mood-maker in her supports where she attempts to get Ivy to open up and give perspective to Diamant on their ways of leading their countries. Her Queendom represents Freedom and is a very accepting person.

Her Emblem is Ike, and even if people mainly see him as a snarky guy, Ike is a very compassionate person. I mean, Ike would have to be a nice guy if he is the only person Soren is unfailingly kind to and is devoted to above everyone else. Ike’s Resolve (pun intended) is the thing that keeps the Greil Mercenaries from falling apart after his father’s death. Gameplay wise, Timerra with Ike act as a Critical Hit fighter with Wrath and Sandstorm. It takes a lot of effort and a bit of luck to make the most of her.

And finally, Veyle rounds out the team as the Sixth Ranger (doubles as 11th Hour Ranger, she is the last recruit in the main game). Sixth Rangers often comes joining in the team after a rivalry dispute and or brainwashing (Tommy Oliver (trope namer) and Zuko from Avatar comes to mind), Veyle is no exception. Veyle is the only other Non DLC Dragon units in the game. Most Sixth Rangers often (like the Red Ranger) have a power no other Ranger does.

Veyle doesn’t have a designated Emblem outside of Marth (who her evil self used, and she has boss dialogue with Emblem Marth in his Paralogue), but I consider Emblem Alear to be the closest thing Veyle will get to a designated Emblem. Her evil self also wears Alear’s Ring in the bad ending.

The major difference between Alear’s team, and the Four Hounds led by EVeyle is that the Hounds were already formed long before the story began. Alear and the Four Royals don’t officially form until more than halfway through Engage’s main story chapters. And yet these guys became a real team where the Hounds failed.