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kadavernagh · 7 months

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TIMING: Worm Day in Feb LOCATION: An appropriate battlefield PARTIES: @kadavernagh & @banisheed SUMMARY: Worms fight for the pride of their banshee. Love is a battlefield. CONTENT: Wormspice

“Lá na bPéist,” Siobhan said, grinning the way an animal sometimes only seems to right before it lunges. “Last worm writhing, yes.”

War would be waged at dawn. Regan marched into the clearing she had designated for Siobhan, a big tin jar in her hands, previously filled with coffee grounds, and now full of writhing worms. She didn’t think her newly-purchased worms truly desired anything – what an enviable, simple life in many ways – and they especially had no interest in fighting Siobhan’s worms. But this was a matter of pride. Siobhan assumed that Regan’s worms were undignified and meek, odorless and scrawny, and Regan was tired of bearing her insults.

Her skin prickled as a long figure appeared across the clearing, the sun creeping up behind her and casting her face in shadow. She would have her own worms with her. And if they were as girthy as Siobhan claimed, why could Regan not see them from here? Not so impressive.

“Lá na bPéist,” Regan greeted her. It was the customary way. Day of the Worms. There was no ‘happy’ in front of it; it was only a simple and respectful declaration of the day. “My worms challenged you, and I picked the location, so I will be generous and allow you to set reasonable perimeters. Will this be down to the last worm standing – so to speak – or do you have something else in mind?”

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Violence was a necessity. Since the first forms of microscopic life, it seemed, violence was a language to claim dominance. Or so Siobhan assumed, banshee literature was often flirtatious with the truth. At least one book claimed that all life was born out of a big bone, contradicted by another book that claimed the big worm in the sky birthed them which was also contradicted by another book that was simply a picture of a skeleton shrugging. Science is an afterthought but violence, still, was an art. What Regan didn’t know, with her skinny worms, was that their little worm war didn’t start here. Their war began the moment Siobhan laid eyes on her unseasonable winter coat. In order for something to be strong, something else has to be weak: a rule of language that Siobhan knew intimately. She wouldn’t be weak.

Her happy, healthy, girthy worms writhed in the box she brought them in. She was pained to rip them from their happy home inside her compost system, where they had lived for months, lovingly tended to, fertilizing the earth that she used for her garden. For Death to be appreciated, Life needed to be respected as well. But there was no doubt in Siobhan’s mind that this truth escaped Regan. She probably purchased her worms wholesale online.

“Lá na bPéist,” Siobhan said, grinning the way an animal sometimes only seems to right before it lunges. “Last worm writhing, yes.” She snapped the locks open from her plastic box, upturning her girthy worms upon the ground. The worms, unlike malnourished counterpoints, flourished in Siobhan’s delicate compost. They were indeed larger and thicker, though the girth may have been slightly exaggerated. There was something…odd about them, however. A line from Wurmsten’s Pride and Wormjudice flashed in her mind: it was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single worm in possession of girth must be in want of a mate.

Siobhan shook her head, surely their passionate wiggles were nothing more than an eagerness to shed worm blood. “Go on, leanbh, or does the sight of my thick worms make you envious?”

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The Jade sauce came too late. Regan had done her best with the worms given her tardy start (with preparations, not… to everything else Siobhan surpassed her in), but her worms still looked mangled and pencil-thin. They took only occasional interest in apple slices and they kept squiggling into the sides of the container like they had no sense of place or orientation. But she had come here to win. And Siobhan was a boastful creature, wasn’t she? Her worms couldn’t be so grand as she claimed. They were probably just as grey, just as aimless.

“I agree to your terms. May the best worms win, cailleach.” There were no prizes or trophies in these wars of worms, only bragging rights. Siobhan would like the extra pin in her lapel, and Regan needed something she could surpass Siobhan in. Had the course of her life run smoother, she would have believed that needing something was enough to make it happen, but if anything, it created obstructions at every turn. Right. Confidence. She had Jade in her corner, even if she wasn’t present now. That was enough, right? Regan held onto that as she unceremoniously dumped her worms from their tin home. They collected by her feet, and she shook a little so stragglers could roll off her boots and join the rest of the squadron. “I was advised to read to them. They’re engorged with–” She would not admit she had read them Tana French “– harsh tales of the moors.”

Any fleeting confidence she held deflated when Siobhan dumped her worms on the ground, too. They were at least twice as thick as Regan’s, colored like cherry red lividity, and they squirmed with such vigor in comparison. Were… were her worms depressed? She glanced over to the limp mass at her feet, disappointed. It was the look her 1st grade art teacher used to give her when she handed in a drawing of a dead cow for the tenth time. But Regan would not abandon them; if no one believed in them, all bets of winning were off. She would take a line from Siobhan’s book and lob a competitive insult. That would inspire her worms. “I’ve seen better worms,” Regan said, arms crossed, as her stomach cramped from the lie. “Your worms are too soft. You have coddled them. They may have girth, but they know nothing of resilience.” She clenched a fist, fingernails against scar tissue. “Mine have thrived even under suboptimal conditions.” Her gaze sharpened as she met Siobhan’s eyes. “It’s no surprise. You’ve grown soft in your time away, too, haven’t you?”

The worms were in motion. Kind of. They were slow, groping for each other through the dirt in blindness. Siobhan’s took off first, faster than worms ought to move, but Regan’s were sluggish. She decided they were using their resources to fortify themselves. But as Siobhan’s came closer, her worms began wriggling anxiously, inching closer. They knew who their opponent was now. Good. Good. They tangled into a slimy cluster, two tense banshees casting shadows over them.

There was no blood. Where was the blood? They were entwined, were they not? “Are they…” The worms were wrapping up in each other with bulging clitellae, which was surely just an effort at strangulation. They didn’t have teeth. It was their way. “See how clever mine are, drawing yours in with a false sense of security.” Yes. Her worms might not have been pretty, but they were clever, weren’t they?

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It was the Austen that had done it. Why hadn’t Siobhan read to her worms about harsh moors? Why did she think Austen—and her worm counterpart, Wurmsten—would be good material for the worms? That was how they knew, that was why she was thinking of it; their girth made them in want of a mate. It seemed none of Austen’s—and Wurmsten, who claimed her novels were entirely unrelated to Austen—commentary on class and society were absorbed into their slimy bodies. That was why Siobhan read Austen—and Wurmsten, who might have only been known in one niche banshee community but made a healthy living of decaying flesh anyway—in fact: for the wit! The cunning! Certainly, nothing about the romance; it hardly occurred to her. The worms had taken the wrong message away. If only she had read them harsh tales of the moors.

Siobhan’s cheeks pinked like the worms’. “I was reading them The Art of War,” she lied through clenched teeth, swallowing back a bubble of acid. “This is simply what I’ve taught them: ‘a wise general makes a point of foraging on the enemy’. They are…foraging on the enemy.” Foraging could be one word for it, if the meaning was stretched enough, though the more obvious word burned on her tongue. The worms paired up, sealing wet, throbbing clittella to another’s body. Encasing themselves in mucus, Siobhan turned her head away as a particular white fluid bubbled out of the worms. Something was, in a way, being foraged.

“There is nothing false about this.” Siobhan leveled her gaze on Regan, careful to keep her eyes away from the foraging worms; her face blazed red. “Our worms have—Our worms are…” If she didn’t give it a name, if she didn’t say it, could she deny the truth? In a way, with a stretched definition and artistic liberties, they were foraging on the enemy. “It’s a new technique of war,” she said, “you wouldn’t know it; it’s not in whatever books about moors you’re reading. It is obviously very complex. The girth on my worms is at least eighty percent knowledge. Perhaps I am not soft. Perhaps you are just…hard.”

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The ground by Regan’s feet swelled with worms. Her worms, as sad and grey as they were (a few more weeks of Jade juice would have done the trick), had perked up to the presence of Siobhan’s vivacious worms, and were wiggling in response with more gusto than they had displayed in the entire time they had been with Regan. Not only did their swarming continue – it expanded – spreading over to Siobhan, a giant, pulsing mat of mucus and wriggling pink bodies. She had more or less abandoned the idea of this being worm cunning… attempting to believe something did not make it true, and all illusions in her life were undergoing a slow crumble as her departure neared.

Regan knew little about the secret mechanics of worm copulation, but that melding and fluid seemed reproductive in nature, and Siobhan, well… Regan didn’t know her cheeks could be that color. This was the woman who wore a turtleneck that was missing half its fabric. She had practically done a strip tease with a winter coat. She could blush? Regan studied the couplings, more certain by the second. “They’re… no, they’re definitely, uh…” She couldn’t quite say it either. But Siobhan was acting strange. For a banshee, hard was right. “Hm. I never thought I would hear you provide me with a compliment,” Regan said, raising a brow (she couldn’t look away from the worms, though; they were hypnotic). Unfortunately, it was not true – she was softer than Siobhan and in all the wrong ways. And it was the whole problem, the reason why she needed to go back. “Careful. You may convince me not to go with you, if I am hard. But then, your judgement is frail, isn’t it? You read your worms classic literature thinking it wouldn’t put… these notions in their small minds. Mine are only going along with it – they were poised for battle, then yours romanced mine.”

The ground sounded moist with worm love, like hands sliding into mayonnaise. And Worm Day was not the time for love. Regan’s fists clenched and she found her face growing hot, too. Fates, this really was happening. Was this really what was meant to occur? Her worms were fornicating with the enemy! What had gotten into them? Did that mean – was it actually love? It was beyond reason, like all love, as far as Regan could tell. Could it be, when they lacked the capacity for such emotion? That question made her belly ache (unclear why).

“We can’t separate them.” Regan spoke with certainty, but her voice was thick with something. She wasn’t sure where it came from (or the sentiment of not separating lovers). Some worm mucus probably got in there. She finally tore her eyes from the worm orgy and they landed on a very red Siobhan. “Can we agree on this? They remain together.” Was it worth throwing in that she meant the worms also could not be physically separated? Because that also seemed true. They had melded together, holding fast.

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“They are fucking.” Finally, Siobhan said it. “No,” Siobhan corrected herself, “they are making delicate, sensual worm love.” It was obvious to her, and her inability to look the worms directly in their anuses (they did not have eyes), that their passion extended beyond the realms of necessity; love was linking bodies together, stabbing each other with setae so the no new copulation could be committed, and then wiggling away to eat detritus. Worms knew love, of course they had felt a connection to the words of Jane Austen. “You are hard, maybe. Regan, you are very hard. You are erect with hardness. I cannot--I cannot deny the worms. Perhaps that makes me soft.” Siobahn turned around, shutting her eyes to the worms and the world. They possessed something she did not: love. And a slimy, pink, wiggling segmented body (but oh, how she wished for one).

Where had she gone wrong? From the beginning, it seemed. From loving her worms. From wanting a garden at all, from creating her compost bin. For wanting a life that wasn’t allowed to her. For imagining she might be a worm, writhing with girthy freedom in the dirt free to make love to wormever she pleased and eating as much manure as she wanted. She was a banshee; banshees didn’t do what they pleased. It was all wrong, all along: the war, the worms, the Regan. It was wrong to make innocent creatures act out her fantasies of power. They were worms and worms will do as they want: they will wiggle, they will secrete mucus, they will eat more than their weight each day. They did not have eyes, or legs, or arms, or lungs, but they could make love (they probably did not understand “love” at all, but Siobhan would only realize this after crying about her worms in the privacy of her house).

Siobhan turned around again, tears pooling around her brown eyes. “You’re right. You—child, baby, newborn infant with no knowledge—are right. We cannot separate these worms.” A war was defined by its binary nature; by winners and losers. The worms had won. Perhaps she had gone soft, perhaps the worms had changed her, perhaps it was the air and the occasion of worm day, but she didn’t care how emotional she came off. “If you love a worm…” She clutched at her slow-beating heart. “...let them go.” And she did, against her better judgment, love these worms.

“You…” Siobhan furiously wiped her eyes. Sniffling, she pointed at the other banshee. “...Will say nothing of this during our plane trip—and you will be coming with me. You will. But we have let these worms go—we are accepting a truce on this day. Another Worm Day, and there will be another, we will fight our worms again.” Siobhan sighed. “May your worms be less aroused by my girthy worms next time.”

And with that, the worms wiggled into the sunset.

#c siobhan #writing #wormspice

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emproleon · 8 months

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HI IZZY 🗣️ i present to you a random free pass to tell me five things you love about dio's goofy ass 🎟️ but also no pressure 🧡

OOOH HI KAT THANK YOU FOR THE FREE PASS💖 this is gonna be long LMAO and im actually gonna keep this in line with canon as opposed to my psychotic daydreams (yall get that in discord)

Honestly, i love how funny he is?? like he is definitely overly memed on, and it's gotten old, but a lot of those moments just on their own are so funny to me SJKDHVS like the whole "how many breads have you eaten" line is so ????? why did u say that king..... and honestly i dont think he gets enough credit for the whole Muda shtick like hes the first (i think?) character to start the whole catchphrase thing back in part 1, pre stands, and it's again. not complaining, but what went through ur mind in making that decision, bud. plus the weird little homunculi he just made for funsies in part 1?? a real comedian 10/10

His fashion!! i genuinely LOVE his fits and all the little details in them so much, including the ones he wears in one off illustrations. the leathery, feathery, one is his best looks EVER and i honestly kinda wish it wouldve been in part 3. wouldve been very Lestat. ALSO this includes the Moorish shoes!!! i think they tie in his themes and design SO WELL and im tired of people clowning on them

His impact on the story! Dio Brando really, truly is That Guy™️ i love that he continuously haunts the narrative (at least in parts 1-6) and even with Diego, who is a different character, but still undeniably Dio. just as a reader/watcher getting through the ENTIRE old universe and finally feeling like dio and his mess is done forever just for Diego to show up in part 7 is just really funny to me, esp with how similar Diego is to Dio as opposed to Johnny and Jonathan or really a lot of the other counterparts. You can't get rid of him.

I thank Araki every day for that character sheet he released last year bc Dio intending to have a soft voice is SO GOOD to me. like i love both anime performances a ton and they're iconic and fit the whole over the top theme of it all, but big, scary, villains with smooth, level, soft voices is my kryptonite 😩 ive thought of it before, but if i had to pick like. an actual more "realistic" voice claim for him it would be Harry Lloyd👀 loved him in game of thrones, and his character voice wise in that def has RANGE like ii think dio would have, but he also does audiobooks and they're SO lovely to listen to💖

The way Araki ties him to the Arts, as pretentious as that sounds💀 i think depicting him as someone who appreciates art, literature, and philosophy makes him SO FUN to play with from a fan/creator perspective. i feel like it's a great way to toy around with other bits of symbolism and really expand on him in art and fics.

throwing in a sixth, but i like his dumb face unfortunately!!! Sorry i know this is a shock to all!!! but esp his character model in asbr/over heaven.........so handsome😔 THAT is pookie right there

in conclusion hes alright ig🙄🤚

#GOOD HEAVENS this was more than i thought i'd write #BUT AAAAA THANK U KAT FOR THE EXCUSE TO GUSH MWAH #this is probably the most positively ive spoken abt him all at once- icky!!!#answered

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lerouxpreview · 11 months

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Welcome to yet another Live Preview! I'm your host live from the opera house, and I'm here with the theme-maker to discuss her inspiration for this theme pack. This is a totally normal message and I'm most definitely not the theme-maker herself.

(I will split this response into two parts, the theme design, and the graphic design because they deserve a section of their own.)

About The Theme: having already released several themes throughout the year, I wanted to release one last theme pack going over everything I could improve and everything I wanted to keep. The general idea was to create something bigger, to create more pages, to discard any redundancies and unnecessary parts, and to optimize the spaces the best that I could. Leroux as a name and a concept had been bouncing off the walls in my head for months, all I needed was a word to describe it, and the only word I could think of was improvement.

Just like the first pack I released, this pack would be a direct interpretation of what themes like Dorian and Isadora would look like, if their general aesthetics were taken from character themes to group themes. I resolved to keep the main elements I used for them, with the goal of creating a composition that felt consistent, which, in my opinion, was the main issue I had with Augustus. Sometimes when you're working on a project and you're excited with one thing going right, you suddenly want to shove as many things into it as they will fit; and that's not always for the best. Augustus continues to be a source of pride for me, don't get me wrong, but I also told myself I wouldn't release another pack unless I could make it bigger and better. So here's hoping for bigger and better.

About The Graphics: after years working as a freelance designer, most of which I also spent working on graphic commissions for roleplay groups, I found this portion of theme-making surprisingly challenging. When you advertise a theme, a customizable theme at that, the last thing you want to transmit is that it will only work if you share the same specific vision. What you really want to show is a general idea of what the theme can look like, while alluding to the source of inspiration, if any.

And still, sometimes I feel a little silly claiming I was inspired by XYZ when whoever ends up using the theme gets pretty much a bunch of blank spaces. The message for me relies on the sample graphics I use—and by trying to avoid any suggestion, I feel like the sample graphics failed to communicate what was really in my heart when Augustus was created. I'm not saying the graphics were bad, I'm only saying they were subdued. That's why I decided to go all out with Leroux and pay homage to the works of literature and architecture that have influenced my stylistic choices the most.

I hope you don't mind if I share the story with you.

I have a thing for staircases. I have always loved them. So when I first saw the Palais Garnier as shown in The Phantom of the Opera (and by Palais Garnier I mean the soundstage they used for the movie) I became even more obsessed than I already was, seeing I was already a big fan of the book. This resulted in me using pictures of the Palais Garnier (more specifically the grand staircase) for every roleplay project I put out there whether it had anything to do with opera or not. I finally had the opportunity to use them for a good reason when a friend of mine and I started working on a ballet-themed roleplay group. I didn't get to see it open because I had to prioritize my education but I hold that place dear to my heart.

The Leroux RPG Theme Pack is inspired by a hypothetical horror roleplay set in an opera house, much like The Phantom of the Opera, by Gaston Leroux. The plot rotates around deaths and accidents that are originally credited to a killer on the loose, until the characters are locked inside the opera, and discover the killer is actually an evil spirit—opposite case to the book, where the phantom is just a really ugly guy who knew his way around the opera (RIP Erik, you would've loved Facetune.)

Another thing I have always believed when it comes to graphics is the power lighting can have in the general atmosphere of a project. Lighting can guide you toward what images to use, what colors to use, and even what type of fonts to use. Since apparently I like to suffer I went out on a limb and decided I wanted my graphics to look like the only source of light is candlelight! And here we are! Palais Garnier is probably the most famous amalgamation of neo-baroque and beaux-arts in the history of opera houses, and I decided to show my disdain for modern time's use of harsh lighting by going back to 1875! I found the idea of making this hypothetical roleplay group rotate around a haunting convenient because that way I could exploit those resources.

The backdrop is supposed to emulate candlelight. The header is supposed to evoke the feeling of catching a mysterious something out of the corner of your eye while being unable to shake off the feeling that something's not quite right—that's why I added the grainy ballerinas in the middle, which was supposed to look like walking into a flashback, but ended up looking a little like Fall Out Boy's From Under The Cork Tree album cover. I'm gonna leave it at that and try not to think about it too hard.

#this is an inspiration rundown

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bao3bei4 · 3 years

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fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all.

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you.

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances.

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves”

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women.

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other.

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how:

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers.

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese?

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

finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power.

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry.

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition.

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people?

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game)

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects.

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too?

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it?

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

some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood!

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :)

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

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eternally--mortal · 2 years

Text

So I’ve seen a couple comments lately specifically associated with the ever-growing comment chains of @buggachat’s bakery enemies au where some fellow readers are claiming that a lot of us are hating on Marinette.

It’s not a lot of comments, but it’s enough that I wanted to say something. You don’t have to listen. That’s ok. You can scroll if you want to, but the thoughts are here if you wanted or needed them.

Here’s the thing:

When you write a realistic character, or adapt a character realistically from a tv show, there are going to be moments of pain and frustration on all sides. Yes, Marinette is allowed to feel her own pain and frustration, but We as an audience are Also allowed to have second-hand frustration based on her actions.

I’m allowed to like Marinette and acknowledge and validate her frustration while still Also Being Frustrated at her. That being said, I understand that We can see the whole story and She can’t. Even apart from that knowledge, I am allowed to have compassion for her and Still Disagree with the way that she handles things. That is not me being a Marinette salter or me hating on Marinette. That is me recognizing that this very human response of Marinette’s is placing Adrien — and herself — into unhealthy situations.

People aren’t good and bad all the time. You don’t have to love them all the time. And even if you Do still love them, you don’t have to agree with them.

I’m not trying to start a fight, but I wanted to put all of this out there because . . . I’ve read through the comments. And I haven’t really seen a great deal of people genuinely trashing Marinette. They’re just responding to the direct situation with their very-normal emotional reactions. Which is sort of part of the point, isn’t it?

And I’m sorry @buggachat . I know I tagged you. It’s mostly to give context to this post. I’m not trying to pull you into the discussion or force you to comment on it or pick a side. Please continue on with your beautiful life and enjoy torturing us every 24 hours. You’re doing great, sweetie. This post isn’t really for you unless you want it to be. I don’t know. You might not even agree with me. And that is your right as a human being.

To everyone who feels this Does apply to them, I just wanted to say, here are some general facts of life that the world continues to beat into us, whether we like it or not:

Good people can do terrible things. In fact, some of the worst things are Genuinely Awful to that degree because they were done by good people. Just look at Adrien’s situation. He’s seen how Marinette has So many friends who love her. He’s seen that she’s capable of being an absolutely wonderful person. To him it looks like she’s choosing to be a terrible person to him specifically. Real people go through this in the real world, too. When a good person does something horrible, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re still a good person to Someone out there — maybe to multiple someone’s. They’ve just chosen not to be a good person to You. Or chosen to be a Bad person to you. And that Hurts. And it’s Worth acknowledging and talking about. (This is the real tragedy of evil, in my opinion. It’s why children of abusive and negligent parents often struggle so deeply with the question of why they still feel a need to earn love from their parents and whether they should leave them behind.)

People are constantly experiencing growth and change. There’s something great called the Theory of Positive Disintegration that describes the process. It’s super cool. Look it up. It’s healthy to acknowledge that we all make varied choices as our worldviews change and as we experience new things. People we see as ‘bad’ don’t have to stay that way and likely aren’t what we expect. People we see as ‘good’ are not always strictly good. (Besides this, How many people do we call “Good” because of whom they decided to be evil to? Who gets to decide who the enemy is anyway?)

Literature is designed with complexity in mind. Stories are often made with fleshed out human beings. Sometimes stories are written Specifically to show us questionable behavior so we can see the world through a new lens and decide for ourselves whether we agree with that person. Just take a look at Restoration Drama if you have any doubts. Old white men debated for ages about whether or not their audiences were smart enough to notice questionable behavior in cases of, for instance, rape or cheating or manipulation. Did they ever ask the audience? Not really. But the point is that we Do sometimes get suckered into blindly supporting characters without really watching what they’re Doing. It doesn’t mean we’re not smart enough to notice or talk about it. The danger comes when we try to shut that conversation down by Never showing evil or Never acknowledging it when it’s there. —No one is perfect. So we have flaws. So what? That’s normal. It’s human. It’s normal to empathize with a character. It’s ok to openly express second-hand embarrassment or frustration for their actions. If you don’t want strangers on the internet to point out Marinette’s flaws, then maybe You shouldn’t be pointing out the flaws of strangers on the internet.

I’m not trying to attack anyone in particular. Or anyone at all. I just wanted to put some of this into perspective. Some of you making these comments might be joking! I can’t really read emotional subtext on the internet. Some of us are bad at reading it in real life, too. This is just me putting some thoughts out there to remind you that we all have complex emotional lives, and that discussing a person’s flaws isn’t the same thing as hating them or rejecting them or making them out to be the enemy. If no one ever talked about the bad parts of good people, we wouldn’t have compelling stories.

#marinette dupen chang #bakery enemies au #just some thoughts #mlb #miraculous ladybug #people are complex #let us acknowledge their complexities

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crippleprophet · 2 years

Text

comparing knee braces for chronic pain

some folks expressed interest in my input on what knee braces are best, so here’s my opinions based on both biomechanical data analysis (gait motion capture, EMG muscle activation, cadence, velocity, and F-scan plantar pressure distribution) and personal experience.

disclaimer & context: i’m not a doctor, i’m an engineering and disability studies master’s student and at the time of this study was taking my final undergraduate courses and my first year of master’s coursework. i’m also a disabled person who’s used some form of over-the-counter knee brace(s) for the past 6 1/2 years. the sample size for this data is one person (me), so it’s not necessarily reflective of a broader population and i’m certainly not claiming that it is, just offering some quantitative support for my own experiences.

a really important fact to keep in mind is that the knee is an incredibly complex joint and knee flexion/extension involves movement in three different axes. many, if not almost all, brace designers treat it like a hinge joint (ie, moving on two axes / one plane), which inherently restricts range of motion (ROM) on one axis.

because all measured ROM were below the biomechanical “norm,” a greater ROM was used in this study as a shorthand for any gait changes as a result of the braces being less likely to cause changes to the movement of other joints, which can lead to issues such as new locations of chronic pain. a restricted ROM can also lead to muscle loss. i don’t consider either of these inherently a bad thing, just important factors to consider when making decisions about what aids to use.

i’ve used 4 main styles of knee braces - on one knee at first, and then the same on both knees (i.e. bilaterally) now, with brief periods of using a different brace on each knee for various reasons (mainly financial and ROM-related). we used the Futuro hinged brace (A), Ace patellar strap (B) and non-hinged (C) braces, and PowerLix compression sleeves (D & E) in this study.

[ID: the braces mentioned above. the hinged brace has a hole at the patella, aluminum hinges on each side, and many adjustable velcro straps. the patellar strap consists of a thin padded strap above and below the knee. the non-hinged brace has a hole at the patella and two large velcro straps. the compression sleeve is a cylindrical fabric brace with a silicone gel grip at the top band. end ID]

1. Compression Sleeves

pros:

better knee and ankle ROM. for the pair i own, which is slightly longer and has a textured grip at the top, the knee ROM was better than with a non-hinged brace and the ankle ROM was better than with a non-hinged brace or patellar strap. (sagittal plane, p=0.0025 for knee and 0.000086 for ankle)

for a borrowed pair of compression sleeves which were slightly shorter than the ones i own but still fit well, there was also better knee ROM than the non-hinged brace and better ankle ROM than the patellar strap. there was also slightly better hip ROM (specifically, closer to the standard amount of adduction) than the non-hinged brace and patellar strap (frontal plane, p=0.73 and 0.65, respectively).

faster walking speed and pace. using the long compression sleeves resulted in a faster cadence than using no brace (p = 0.0179) and a faster velocity than using no brace, the patellar strap, and the non-hinged brace (p = 0.00123).

greater perceived stability compared to using no brace, the patellar strap, and the non-hinged brace (p = 0.000253).

more symmetrical distribution of plantar pressure between left and right sides and more symmetrical gait cycle than the non-hinged and hinged braces.

generally higher leg muscle activation than the non-hinged brace, patellar strap, and no brace. literature is contradictory about interpreting leg muscle activation with chronic pain, but because higher activation occurred in the braces i find more effective at pain relief, i’m inclined to believe it occurred because i was offloading less weight into my forearm walker because my legs didn’t hurt as much as with other braces or no brace. this could suggest a lower risk of atrophy.

there were no significant differences recorded in the change in pain experienced over the course of walking trials with each brace, but anecdotally i definitely think compression sleeves are the most comfortable to wear, especially over extended periods of time or when sitting down.

most of the advantages of these braces come from their support with minimal restriction of movement, so the only time i wouldn’t recommend them is if someone needs to keep their knee from bending, etc, for a certain reason, such as after certain injuries. as far as ongoing and/or arthritis-related pain, i have worse pain when my knees are bent and these are still my favorite brace to wear, so i consider the greater ROM an advantage.

2. Hinged

pros:

greater ankle ROM than the patellar strap (p = 0.000086).

lower varus in frontal stance phase than the non-hinged brace (p = 0.031).

faster velocity than the patellar strap (p = 0.00123).

greater perceived stability compared to using the patellar strap and the non-hinged brace (p = 0.000253).

generally highest leg muscle activation (see above section for note on interpretation). this could suggest a lower risk of atrophy.

these braces have less ROM restriction and better stability than some alternatives, but they treat the knee like a hinge joint, leading to a less symmetrical gait, which can cause pain in other joints. i wear these for short durations when i need to be standing for a long time because they prevent my knees from giving out.

3. Non-Hinged

there... really weren’t any pros for these. they didn’t outperform the other braces in any area. they restrict the range of motion, leading to a slower, more asymmetrical gait, without offsetting those impacts through any significant improvements to perceived pain and stability.

personally, the only time i’d recommend this kind of brace is if you need to significantly restrict your knee’s ability to bend. i have worse pain when my knees are bent and experience frequent buckling and i still far prefer the hinged brace for support.

4. Patellar Strap

pros:

better hip ROM than the non-hinged brace (p = 0.029).

more symmetrical distribution of plantar pressure between left and right sides and more symmetrical gait cycle than the non-hinged and hinged braces.

i’m gonna be honest, i personally hate these braces. i think they’re uncomfortable and painful, i feel really unstable wearing them, and they encourage inversion of the lower leg which could cause issues over time. it wasn’t a statistically significant difference, but i was slower walking in these than with no brace at all. also, every biomechanics lab technician who saw them was like “these look super ineffective.” if they help you, i’d love to hear about it, but otherwise i recommend spending your money elsewhere.

#knee problems #knee brace #knee pain #chronic pain #biomechanics #faq #mac.txt

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manuscripts-dontburn · 2 years

Photo

Darkdawn

Author: Jay Kristoff

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★☆☆

A satisfying enough ending to an elaborate revenge story, that I enjoyed but there is no denying this is hardly quality literature. In any case, I was more interested in this than the second volume, which just dragged. What cuts the book in its knees especially is the unnecessary, artless baseness with which the physical love, as well as physical suffering, is treated throughout. I do love Mr Kindly though. Also, all the points to the book designer.

The Dutch House

Author: Ann Patchett

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★★☆

A book about relationships, familial loyalty, hurts and the possibility of forgiveness. Beautifully written, but one should beware there is not much of a plot. An ideal book for a quiet, calm afternoon as you sip a large cup of delicious tea.

The Book Smugglers

Author: Anna James

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★★★★

Yet more delightful goodness from Anna James. This is the ultimate book-loving series for kids to fall in love with reading! Every volume is just lovely and I feel like falling into it likeinto a comfortable blanket.

Katia: Wife Before God

Author: Alexandre Tarsaïdzé

First published: 1970

Rating: ★★★☆☆

The main strength of this publication is the many letters, presented without shortening, that were exchanged between Alexander II and his beloved "Katya". that said the author made some maddening decisions of inserting a million footnotes which should never have been footnoted, but information incorporated into the main text. The rest of the footnotes are often so random and unrelated that they baffled me (what good is it to me to know a distant relation of a random courtier mentioned in the book was living in the US in the 60s?). Add to it that there are some inaccuracies regarding names and ages, and all that remains is my ardent wish that this should have been just a published correspondence.

The Betrothed

Author: Alessandro Manzoni

First published: 1827

Rating: ★★★☆☆

I am in two minds about this one. On the one hand, the whole thing is incredibly slow, the characters rather superfluous and their plight left me cold. On the other hand, when the author decides to leave those characters behind and instead focuses on the historical events and general populace, I was hooked and truly impressed and felt both compassion as well as horror. The parts dealing with the war and plague were actually incredible. (And oh gosh! The parallels of the populace reacting to it were too similar to our own experiences with covid it just hit me right in the face how unchanging humans are throughout the ages!) I understand the characters are needed for us to travel with them, but in the end, this is the story of a region, not the two lovers and their friends/enemies.

Daughters of Chivalry: The Forgotten Children of King Edward Longshanks

Author: Kelcey Wilson-Lee

First published: 2019

Rating: ★★★★★

Fantastic, immensely readable family portrait from the depth of the medieval age! Stands to show that even though their voices are often so muffled by the male censure of history, the women of the past centuries (even if only the ones born into privilege) were very much present during pivotal moments, wielded influence and claimed their own spaces.

The Last Graduate

Author: Naomi Novak

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

*deep sigh* The whole idea of this is great. The characters all have potential. It is definitely something that just deserved a tighter approach or a merciless editor. The amount of pages where the main character just goes on and on and on about things we already know is just devastatingly high. I love Naomi Novik´s previous books and I really was intrigued by Scholomance, but unfortunately reading should not feel like a chore and this book felt exactly like one.

The Pillars of the Earth

Author: Ken Follet

First published: 1989

Rating: ★★★★☆

There is absolutely no better review of this book than THIS ONE.

The Nature of Witches

Author: Rachel Griffin

First published: 2021

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Look, there is nothing particularly wrong with this book, but I was bored out of my mind for most of it. This is a great pity because the idea of "seasonal" witches definitely struck me as new and original and the writing itself was not half bad either. And the shallow me loved the cover. However, there really is no plot unless you count a very vanilla and done-to-death romantic relationship.

999: The Extraordinary Young Women of the First Official Jewish Transport to Auschwitz

Author: Heather Dune Macadam

First published: 2020

Rating: ★★★★★

Why would anyone ever be content with any fictional book about Holocaust, when there are nonfiction books like this out there? Beautifully, and sensitively put together to commemorate a specific group of young women who suffered in Auschwitz, this is a dignified tribute to those who died and those who survived.

The Adventures of Pinocchio

Author: Carlo Collodi

First published: 1883

Rating: ★★★☆☆

A wild trip of imagination that somehow did not make me feel like I was on drugs (looking at you Alice in Wonderland), had some genuinely laugh out loud moments and delicious sarcasm sprinkled on top. Is it the best children´s classic I know? Not, but I would choose Pinocchio over Peter Pan any day.

#booklr #may 2022 #wrap up

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Note

is there a way we could get another maxwell, alistair, and reader blurb with a family vacation?

Vacation with Maxwell Lord and Alistair

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: NONE, tooth rotting fluff.

Rating: PG

Masterlist

It was your first ever family vacation— and you had to make complete sure it would be one you'd never forget. The honeymoon was amazing, but only two months after the wedding, you were already begging your new husband for another holiday, this time with little Alistair. You loved Alistair like he was your own child, and from the moment he started calling you ‘mommy’, you knew you'd never love another child the way you loved him. You didn't care that he wasn't yours by blood, you loved him unconditionally. It was one of the things that Maxwell immediately saw in you— one of the qualities that made you stand out against any other woman he'd ever been with.

Maxwell was still in bed by the time you had gotten out of the shower. He'd woken up briefly, promised you that he'd get dressed, but clearly he'd fallen back asleep. You didn't blame him, the jet lag was creeping up on you too, but Alistair was bright and full of energy, and you needed Max to wake up. You beckoned Alistair to come over.

"Can I wake daddy?" your son asked with a mischievous smile. You smiled, your toothbrush wobbling between your teeth as you nodded your head in affirmation. Alistair's face completely lit up as he ran over to the king sized bed where Max slept. He threw himself on top of his father, bouncing up and down, screaming melodies of “wake up daddy!” and “it’s time to get up!”

You chuckled to yourself as you watched your husband, as disheveled as ever, roll over and tackle Alistair into a hug.

"Shhh," Maxwell moaned groggily, pinning Alistair down amongst the sheets. Alistair surprisingly listened to his dad, immediately quieting down before erupting into a fit of uncontrollable screams and laughter. You managed to get a glimpse of Max tickling his son, and shook your head, unable to contain your smile. You had never been so happy, and you knew that Max had never been this happy either.

"Boys," you called, biting your lip. Alistair's and Maxwell's heads both snapped up in unison as they stared at you with wide, doe eyes. "you gotta be quiet. It's still early and people are still sleeping." you mentioned, referencing your hotel neighbors.

"Your mother's right," Maxwell huffed, finally getting up.

"How come you and daddy get the big bed and I get the little bed?" Alistair asked you curiously, following you into the bathroom and tugging on your arm for attention.

"You have a big bed at home," you mumbled as you combed through your drying hair. "Besides, you don't seriously expect me and daddy to sleep in the tiny bed, do you?"

Alistair laughed at the thought. You helped him squirt some toothpaste on his brush and poured him a glass of water for him to drink after he brushed his teeth as Max finished throwing some clothes on. You smiled, walking out of the en-suite and towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his body and nuzzling your face into his chest.

"I like this shirt," you told him as you gently smooth down the material. He wore a blue and white pinstripe button down, the first few buttons undone and a pair of cream coloured pants and sandals. You had to practically beg him to dress in something convenient, otherwise he would've happily packed an abundance of his three piece designer suits he wears for work.

"I like you," he murmured, his hands dropping to your waist as he began to sway his hips. "I'm glad we're doing this." Maxwell smiled, glancing back into the bathroom where Alistair was still getting ready.

"Me too."

***

"Don't forget the sunscreen!" you called, laughing as Maxwell achingly rubbed the small of his back. He was carrying two huge, heavy bags, one filled with Alistair's toys and the other filled with beach towels and swimming costumes. You had tried persuading Alistair that he didn't need to bring his toys to the beach, but much like his father, he was adamant and would not change his mind for anyone.

Alistair came running out of the hotel room holding a bottle of sunscreen. It looked gianormous in his tiny hands.

"Got it!" he screamed excitedly, bouncing up and down.

"Good," you praised, taking his hand in yours. "Are you going to let me put the sunscreen on you, or daddy?"

Alistair contemplated for a second. "What if I don't want to wear sunscreen?"

"You have to," Maxwell sighed as you took one of the bags from him, immediately easing up from the loss of weight.

"But what if-" the little boy began to argue, but his father cut him off.

"Alistair." Maxwell said sternly, furrowing his eyebrows and pointing his finger.

You nudged your husband in the side, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow. "Don't be miserable," you warned him with a gentle whisper and Maxwell nodded his head understandingly. "Alistair, if you let your daddy put sunscreen on, I'll go get you an ice cream?"

Alistair's eyes became comically wide as he smiled a toothy grin. "Deal!" he exclaimed, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You giggled, shaking the little boy's hand.

"Didn't think my son would be making business deals so young," Maxwell chuckled as you walked out the hotel lobby. You rested your head on his shoulder as the blinding warm sunlight beamed against your skin. You hummed, adjusting your sunhat and digging into your bag to pass Maxwell his sunglasses.

"He takes after his father," you giggled. "Which way is the beach?"

Alistair tapped a finger against his chin. "I think it's that way!" he announced.

"And what makes you say that?" Maxwell asked, popping his gold framed sunglasses on and running a hand through his dark blonde hair.

Alistair shrugged.

"We could just walk and see where it takes us?" you suggested. Maxwell didn't care where you'd go, all that mattered to him was that you and Alistair were having fun and being happy. It was your first family vacation since he had married you, and he lived to see your smile. Max enjoyed vacationing, sure, but this was the first time he'd gone somewhere tropical and exotic. He'd usually venture to some foreign city, somewhere he'd still be able to work if he needed to. You swore that there'd be no working on this holiday though. Maxwell needed a well deserved break. The pebbled pathway took you to a swimming pool, rather than a beach, but Alistair was still happy enough.

The pool was huge, with turquoise tranquil waters. It wasn't too busy, which was ideal— it meant there was less chance of your husband being noticed. You found two unoccupied lounge chairs and popped your bags down on them, claiming them as your own.

"Can we go swimming?" Alistair asked and you nodded your head.

"Yes but remember, sunscreen. Go see your daddy." you told Alistair and he nodded obediently, padding over to his father who was unpacking his bag. Maxwell seen to Alistair, making sure he was completely protected, and began to blow up his inflatables.

"Daddy? Can you go swimming with me and mommy?" Alistair asked curiously as soon as Maxwell had lay down on the lounge chair. He had unbuttoned his shirt fully now, relishing the heat as it warmed his chest. Max picked up one of the fiction novels you'd encouraged him to read, and was so engulfed in the literature, he hadn't even heard his son. "Daddy?" Alistair called again, poking Max in the belly.

"Yes?" Maxwell huffed, his eyes not leaving the pages.

"Can you go swimming with me and mommy?" Alistair repeated.

"Daddy doesn't swim," Maxwell grimaced. "Look Alistair, daddy is reading. Daddy is relaxing. Why don't you go play with mommy in the pool and then we can grab some ice cream?"

"But I want to swim with you daddy!" Alistair begged, tugging on Maxwell's arm. "Please daddy, please!"

Maxwell couldn't resist the pleas of his son. Alistair knew how to soften his father. Max glanced up at you, surprised to see that you were already smirking knowingly back down at him— and had witnessed the whole conversation. You knew Max would eventually cave and do whatever Alistair wanted. He put his book down on your lounge chair and sat up, shuffling out of his shirt and pulling down his pants. You grinned when you saw he was already wearing his swimming trunks underneath.

The water was warm and refreshing, and it felt wonderful to swim around. You and Alistair both chased Max around the pool, splashing him playfully, paying extra care to get his hair wet. Max hated it, but you loved the way his hair fell out of place and his natural waves would appear. You watched as Max lifted Alistair in the air and sat him on an inflatable toy, watching him as he ate his promised ice cream.

"I love our little family." you revealed, treading through the water towards Max and wrapping your arms around his body.

"Me too," Maxwell said, brushing a gentle kiss on your lips. "You know I've been thinking…" he said, turning his attention back on Alistair who was now clagged up in vanilla ice cream. Max tsked, shaking his head. "Thinking what if our little family stops being so little."

You turned to face Max, your eyes widening slightly. "What are you saying?"

"You're such a good mother to Alistair, and I just keep thinking about how much I wanna see you carrying one of my own children." Max smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

"Really?" you asked, the prospect exciting you. "Another child?"

And in true Maxwell Lord fashion, he replied, "Why not more?"

Taglists — let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog

Maxwell Lord: @mrschiltoncat

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #wonder woman 1984 #alistair lord

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ladykissingfish · 4 years

Text

Highschool with the Akatsuki

*Modern-Day*

Hidan

Behavioral nightmare. Fidgets, drops things, disrupts others’ work, talks during study/quiet times. Has to be constantly reprimanded for his inappropriate jokes and foul language. Sent to the principal‘s office so much that he was asked his opinion when the man was choosing new carpeting. Most of his friends are exactly like him, so if they’re in the same class they have to be seated clear across the room from each other. Can be a good student when he TRIES; but doesn’t see the point in trying, so will just barely be passing his classes with C’s and D’s. Skinny jeans and Vans with open flannel shirts over white or black tank. Wears a necklace with strange symbol on it, when asked what it represents he’ll say “my religion” but won’t elaborate. In the bathroom between every class grabbing “a quick smoke”. Dyed his hair silver as a joke in the 6th grade, has kept it that way ever since.

Kakuzu

As serious as a heart attack, no matter the situation. Incredibly tall and with a stern face; is almost always mistaken for being the teacher by new kids. Has an impressive collection of “old-man” sweaters. The stingiest guy alive with a buck; will actually make you hand-write him an IOU slip over borrowing 50 cents for the vending machine. Decent in all subjects but a star in Economics. Has one or two “friends” but doesn’t seem particularly close to them (or anyone else for that matter). Doesn’t talk a lot in class but when he does it’s usually because he disagrees with a point the teacher is making, and he isn’t afraid to debate him or her until he’s acknowledged as being correct.

Deidara

Deidara is one of those people who needs constant stimulation to keep him engaged in whatever’s going on. Since school tends to involve a lot of tedious repetition, paying attention in class isn’t something he’s the best at. Most likely to “finish up” his homework assignments five minutes before class starts. Grades tend to fall in the B-/C+ range. The type to always pick a seat that’s in the back of the room and/or closest to the window. Has a sketchbook that he carries around with him wherever he goes. Style consists of ripped jeans over fishnets, combat boots, fingerless gloves, band t-shirts and oversized pullover hoodies. Super-long hair tied back in ponytail. One of the first (and only) people at school to *openly* identify as pansexual; gets asked out a lot but always declines everyone because dating “would interfere with his artistic process”. Doesn’t speak a lot in class unless the topic particularly interests him, in which case he will ramble on and on until politely stopped by the teacher. His table at lunch will always be full because others are drawn to his energy and charisma. The art room is his home away from home; on a first-name basis with the instructor.

Sasori

The smart, quiet kid. Tends to keep to himself and always appears to be in his own little world. Doesn’t ever seem to be paying attention in class, but when the teacher randomly calls on him, he has the right answer every single time. Always gets A’s but will get upset over a “low A” (in the 90-94% range). A good budgeter of time and will usually manage to get most of his homework done at lunch or during study hall. Has a (small) core group of friends and not looking to add to it anytime soon. Wears a lot of khakis and long-sleeved shirts or sweaters (even in the summer). Because of his organizational skills, technical mind, and proficiency in using tools, he excels in woodshop; often informally used by the teacher as an “assistant” to help other students with their projects. Absolutely hates gym (his small stature and delicate nature make physical exertion difficult for him); this will be the only class he doesn’t try for an A in, as he skips it as often as possible.

Itachi

Dear God, the girls ((and quite a few guys)) are crazy over this boy. Is thought of as being brooding, and mysterious ... and gut-wrenchingly handsome. Very quiet, rarely speaks in class, but when he DOES, it’s always something deep and profound. Top student grade-wise. Long dark hair and soulful eyes. Style is all black, distressed baggy pants with chains, long-sleeved band or anime shirts, boots, fishnet gloves, heavy silver bracelets and rings. Is polite to everyone but only has a handful of actual friends. Submits poems and short stories anonymously to the school paper; always gets published. Is occasionally persuaded by his teachers to volunteer as a student tutor; line will be literally out the door from people seeking his “help”. Has friends in the drama club so will go to every single school play to be supportive, even if all friend did was lighting or scenery.

Kisame

Tall and athletic; captain of the swim team. Isn’t the most handsome guy but popular because of his personality. Not really the best student, but keeps his grades up enough to be able to keep playing sports. Sweatpants, Nikes, and Letterman’s jacket. The type to step in when he sees somebody getting bullied. Has a secret love for Orchestra music and likes to sit outside the band room when it’s members have rehearsals. Friends with/friendly to absolutely everybody. Will go through more than one tray at lunch. Shines the brightest during gym class. Also a surprisingly good cook; will voluntarily take Home Economics as an elective and be one of the best bakers in the class.

Obito

Known around school as “that one guy with the mask”. Was apparently in a bad accident as a child that left the side of his face heavily scarred; adopted the practice of wearing solid-color face masks to cover damage. Teachers are made aware of his situation so no one ever tries to make him take it off; although he will do so at lunch, at a table of his close friends. Smart and articulate, everyone turns to look at him when he speaks in class. Tall and moves quickly (and silently); nobody ever knows he’s there until he’s right behind them. Dark jeans, boots and will always wear a leather jacket or trench coat, even on ridiculously hot days. Doesn’t laugh a lot but when he does, the sound of it could make anyone fall in love. A big eater of sweets; will always have some kind of candy on him that he will quietly slip beneath the mask and eat during class. When caught by teacher, will claim he had low blood sugar, and because he’s a good student otherwise he won’t be questioned further on it. The type to, at the beginning of the school year, sign up for a ton of after-school clubs, stay in them for a week, decide they’re boring, and duck out.

Zetsu

Oddball kid who sits by himself and talks to himself more than seems normal. Teachers have learned early on not to call on him in class, because he’ll just sit there and give them a silent, intent stare until they move on to someone else. Surprisingly good grades despite never talking/participating. Wears cargo shorts, T-shirts and sandals with socks, no matter the weather. Always goes outside in-between class periods; sometimes misses class altogether just to nap under a tree with his face in the sun. Eventually founds and is “captain” of the school’s gardening club; not many members but the ones that do join are very environmentally conscious, modern-day “hippies”.

Pein

Legitimately has like, 9000 piercings. There’s not an inch of this guys face that doesn’t have a shiny silver stud in it. Red and black seem to be the only colors in his wardrobe; lots of button-up shirts and zip hoodies. Has a ridiculously deep voice and is always super-intense, even when just hanging out with friends. In group projects, he’s always very quickly designated as the Leader. In his group of friends, it’s clear he’s the Leader. Not the best grades but above-average. Spends a lot of time with the blue-haired girl; it’s always rumored that they’re dating although both parties have claimed to be “just friends”. A terrifyingly persuasive arguer; joins and becomes star of the debate team within a week. The type to ask a very deep, pointed question during class and change the entire course of the teacher’s lecture.

Konan

The type to have a lot of close male friends but almost zero female ones. Tends to be the “mom” amongst her group. Excellent student, always the top marks in her class. A lot of admirers but always politely turns down potential suitors. Some piercings but nothing very extravagant. The school used to have a very strict rule about dying one’s hair “wild colors”, but she dyed hers blue and led a successful protest regarding freedom of expression. Her favorite class is literature, especially when they get to the Greek Mythology and Shakespeare units. Does origami as a hobby; when bored in class will sit and tear up bits of paper or napkins and create gorgeous little flowers. Clean and organized in every aspect EXCEPT for her locker, which is a (legendary) jumbled and unholy catastrophe.

#the akatsuki #headcanon #high school #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori #itachi #kisame #obito uchiha #zetsu #pein #konan

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

Please donate to my campaign. My goal is to get friends for Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a knock on the door. No one had ever visited Luo Binghe since he came to stay here, and he had gotten the impression that it wasn’t that Luo Binghe had sent his usual visitors away for his guest’s sake. He does believe that his favorite student had been dreadfully lonely, these past few years.

How somehow as endearing as Luo Binghe ended up alone and friendless, Shen Yuan cannot fathom.

Still, if someone is knocking on the door, the doorman must have let them in? It must be important then. Shen Yuan cannot imagine nobodies are allowed anywhere within this complex.

He thinks about texting Luo Binghe to ask, but what if he disturbs him? He must be busy, away at his important job while Shen Yuan does nothing but lazing around. And Luo Binghe did imply that he wouldn’t be ashamed of Shen Yuan’s presence no matter what, so… let’s test that, shall we?

Shen Yuan opens the door.

Shang Qinghua’s frazzled expression faces him.

Shen Yuan almost closes the door in his former colleague’s face.

“Wait, what, Shen Yuan?! Woah, I had no idea you went back to your parents, I thought you said that bridge had burned. Anyway, would love to catch up, but I’m on the clock and at the wrong place, sorry, gotta go or my boss is gonna kill me, bye!”

Shen Yuan stops Shang Qinghua by the shoulder to stop him from leaving. “If you were looking for Luo Binghe, not that I have any idea why you would be, you’re not at the wrong place.”

“Really? Why? How? Is there a story here? Cause it sure seems like there’s a story here. Tell me the story! But later, I have to deliver this?” He waves a boring manilla envelope like it’s supposed to make sense.

“Who still sends letters?”

Shang Qinghua shrugs. “My boss.”

“You’re a mail carrier now? Nice upgrade.”

“Well, I do what I have to do, I don’t live with the country’s most eligible bachelor. Seriously Bro, what happened here? Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

Shen Yuan is sure his blush is terribly incriminating, but he can’t help it.

“Wow. You have to tell me now.”

Shang Qinghua is acting terribly familiar for a guy Shen Yuan hasn’t seen since graduation. “Why should I?”

But Shang Qinghua has already let himself in, unceremoniously dropping the envelope on the nearest table and taking everything in with wide eyes before he lets himself fall on Luo Binghe’s designer couch without a care in the world. “C’mon. Fess up.”

“How about you? Why are you even here? For all I know you’re a thief trying to rob the place.”

Shang Qinghua snorts. “Not exactly my speed.” He shrugs. “Teaching didn’t pay the bills, got an administrative assistant job instead and somehow ended up working for one of Luo Binghe’s associates, hence the private delivery service. How about you? When I saw you earlier, I was sure you were retired and profiting off that sweet family money, but was I wrong? Or is this those Shen connections at work?”

Shen Yuan frowns. Why did he even tell this guy about his family again?

Oh yes, because he had been young, stupid and drunk: the university experience. “No. Luo Binghe is a former student of mine. I’m visiting.”

Shang Qinghua gives him the world’s judgiest look. “Visiting.”

Shen Yuan nods, face still as a lake. “Visiting.”

“While Luo Binghe isn’t there.”

Shen Yuan nods again. “It’s a long visit. I’m staying here right now.”

“At your former student’s house. Look, I’m just gonna say it: sleeping with your student is bad. Don’t do it! That way lies lawsuits!”

“Former student! And it’s not like that!” Technically correct. They haven’t slept together, not in the way Shang Qinghua implies they did. “He’s just lonely and a bit deluded. It’ll pass.”

Probably.

No, not even Shen Yuan believes it at this point. One can only be kissed so often before one has to face reality: Luo Binghe certainly thinks he cares about Shen Yuan more than a student should care about any teacher.

Shen Yuan just isn’t sure what he should do about it.

“If it’s not like that, which, Bro, you’re not making a good case for, you’re staying with him because…?”

“I’m on vacation?” Shen Yuan lies back on the cool leather. “It’s a nice place for it, and cheap.”

“And your “former student” was eager to host you. You, his high school teacher? Because from what my boss told me, Luo Binghe isn’t exactly famous for his openness. I’m half-certain Mobei-Jun sent me here as punishment. He wanted someone else to chew me up this time.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “Still very competent, I see.”

“Well, at least I was teaching my students, not offering “extra credits” if they stayed after class. And since when are you into men, anyway? You always acted like you didn’t notice when men hit on you.”

“Men never hit on me.”

It’s Shang Qinghua’s turn to laugh. “Glad to see that didn’t change. Luo Binghe must be something, to have managed to get through you. What did he tell you, that he wanted to bend you over the nearest desk? Anything less and you’d have been blind to it.”

For fuck’s sake can Shang Qinghua stop saying shit that embarrasses the hell out of Shen Yuan? It’d be very appreciated.

“Oh shit, he totally did! Go him! Did it work? Tell me it worked!”

“No! Can’t you shut up for once in your meaningless life!”

“Not gonna happen. I need to know more. He made a move, and you’re living with him now? His charisma must be something else. At that speed, when’s the wedding? No, wait, how long has this been going on? We haven’t seen each other in forever, you might have been “visiting” for three years as far as I know.”

This is torture. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?”

Shang Qinghua waves his attempt at deflection away. “Forget it, this is way more interesting. Even Mobei-Jun will want in on this. Sooooo?”

Shen Yuan sighs. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. As I said, it’s just a vacation. I’ll leave once the school year starts again.”

“Why can’t you stay here anyway? That dear student of yours must want to keep you, right? Unless you’re really being bankrolled by your parents, this is way nicer than anything you could possibly afford.”

“No matter what he says, I’m not becoming Luo Binghe’s trophy wife.”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widen. “Ooh, your student wanna be your daddy? He’s paying you to keep you around, is that it? Oh, that has to be it. Explains the weird evasiveness thing you’ve got going on. Never knew you had it in you. I’m impressed, really. Much better gig than my own. I wish my boss would pay me to lounge around on his expensive furniture. I’d be great at that. Plus, you know, it’s not like it’d be a hardship. Mobei-Jun is scorching. I’d be his arm candy any day. Maybe he’d be less likely to murder me that way.”

Shen Yuan longs desperately to return to the web novel he so cruelly abandoned to let his worst nightmare in. “I’d give you my job, but honestly Binghe deserves better.” Better than Shen Yuan, too. “At least you’re into men. Makes things easier.”

Shang Qinghua’s face falls. “Are you telling me you’re not into him? Like, at all? Why are you even here then? The money can’t be that good. Return to your parents and get them to arrange a marriage to a rich heiress. Same result, plus you’re attracted to your partner. Better?”

Shen Yuan flinches in horror. “No! Not better! My parents AND some spoiled brat who only cares about my name? Fuck no. Binghe is infinitely better than that!”

Shang Qinghua laughs. “So you do like him! Good for you! Go get him, tiger!”

“No! Well, yes I do, Binghe is very likable, but not like that!”

“Oh my god can you hear the shit that comes out of your mouth? Look, you obviously trust him enough to agree to be his live-in boy toy, and okay, I haven’t seen you in forever, but whatever you’re doing is visibly agreeing with you. What were you doing anyway? It’s not like Luo Binghe is here most of the day.”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Catching up on my reading, mostly.”

Shang Qinghua chokes. “Fuck you. He’s paying you to read? While I’m still trying to get pay to write? I hate you with every single atom of my being.”

“Wait, you’re still writing? Please tell me you’ve upgraded genre, at least.”

“Well…”

“Oh god show me now so I can change your mind before you waste even more of your life on this trash,” says Shen Yuan like he hadn’t caved and spent Luo Binghe’s hard-earned money on extras for novels he hates.

___________________

Luo Binghe is caught completely off guard by the loud voices echoing in his home. Even with Laoshi here, silence is what usually he’s greeted with.

Today, Shen Yuan’s voice is alight with what sounds like righteous anger. He can’t quite place the second one.

Luo Binghe follows the call like a sailor freed from his bonds.

He finds Shen-laoshi half-draped over his chair, Mobei-Jun’s lackey sitting at the desk Luo Binghe had bought for his teacher alone, both of them apparently enraptured with an argument about… bad literature?

Luo Binghe wishes he could be pleased with the sight of Shen-laoshi being this animated, but he can’t. He’s not the one who caused it. This little, insignificant man did, to the point that neither of them noticed his approach.

Luo Binghe taps Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Laoshi.”

Both of them turn toward him, but only Shen-laoshi gets Luo Binghe’s tongue down his throat.

He is very pleased with the outraged look on his teacher’s face. “Binghe! Not in front of the guest!”

The interloper jumps out of Laoshi’s chair. “Guest? What guest? There is no guest, no one here’s. In fact, I should have left hours ago, oh god Mobei-Jun is going to kill me. Shen Yuan, please give Luo Binghe the envelope, sorry for bothering you both, talk to you later, gotta go byyyye!”

Luo Binghe watches the little man flee in terror with satisfaction. Good riddance.

Let’s see him try to contest Luo Binghe’s claim now. “How does Laoshi know Mobei-Jun’s personal assistant?”

“We studied together in college.”

Luo Binghe pouts. How could an old friend of Shen-laoshi find him here? “Were you two close?”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not especially. Why do you ask?”

That can’t be true. They were so at ease around each other. It can take Luo Binghe hours to get Shen-laoshi this relaxed.

He stays silent.

Shen Yuan stares at him. “Binghe.”

“…Yes?”

“I realise this is going to sound ridiculous, and for that I’m sorry, but are you.., jealous? Of Shang Qinghua?”

Luo Binghe might be pouting harder. “No. Why would I be jealous of one of Shen-laoshi’s friends he never told me about.”

A (very cute) smile appears shows up on Shen Yuan’s face. “You. Luo Binghe. Are jealous of Shang Qinghua.”

He dares to laugh! It’s not funny!

This time, Luo Binghe is definitely pouting harder.

“Binghe. Binghe. You’re you. Shang Qinghua is… Shang Qinghua. What do you have to be jealous about? He’s just Shang Qinghua! Come back to your senses!”

Well, that does cheer Luo Binghe right up. “Shen-laoshi likes me better!”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Of course I do.”

Luo Binghe’s chest remains warm for the rest of the day.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

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vampiredev · 3 years

Text

Since I have been asked about the lore behind Vampire's Bit a couple of times recently I decided to organize my ideas a little and post them here. When I started working on Vampire's Bit my main goal was to recreate the feeling of early ARCADE/NES games, since keeping it as simple as possible both in gameplay and graphics was a main priority, considering it was my first time taking part on a game jam, and my first time working under a very tight deadline too.

This minimalistic approach would also reference heavily some of those old games that I used to play a lot in the past and that were a big inspiration for this project, like Bomberman, Pac-man, Berzek and Lode Runner.

Since most games from that era couldn't rely on a story heavily due to technical limitations I decided to keep Vampire's Bit a little bit vague and mysterious too, as I'd love to see other people filling the blanks with their imagination, and coming up with different stories and interpretations based on it, in the same way most people would come up with their own ideas, stories, and even their own character designs based only the small amount of information those old games could provide them. As time went on and I kept working on the game I deviated a lot from that initial view and style, and while that's something I have been struggling with recently, I'll address it with more detail in another post later on.

So, for the lore aspect itself, let's list all the details I have set on stone:

The main character of the story is a vampire called Elizabeth, a name both her family and her friends usually shorten to Elzie afectionally, and that I also use often when talking about her. As you can imagine her name is an obvious reference to Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, who has become popularly associated with vampires, and also as a reference to one of the stories from the book "Vampires Are" by author and vampirologist Stephen Kaplan. In that story Kaplan is approached by a woman named Elizabeth who claims to be a real vampire, and not only manages to evade all his trick questions, but also introduces him to a very interesting and detailed account on how a vampire survives in our current times. As for Elzie's appareance she was inspired by romanian strigoi mythology, which noted people with red hair and blue eyes as someone suspicious of being or becoming a vampire.

The events in Vampire's Bit take place during the Victorian era (1830~1900) and Elzie has been a vampire for some time already. She's quite experienced with her vampire powers, and the only thing drawing her back is that as she was quite young when turned into a vampire, she is very short and thin physically, and also not very strong. This part of her characterization also takes heavy inspiration from other famous vampires from popular literature like Claudia from "Interview with the Vampire" by Anne Rice, and Eli from "Let the Right One In", by John Ajvide Lindqvist. Before becoming a vampire, she probably was the spoiled daughter of a rich family, something we can see small hints of not only in her bratty attitude but also on her taste for fancy looking places and fancy looking dresses.

And this lead us to analyze her personality with more detail. If I had to choose a word to describe Elzie I'd say mischevious is a good one. At first glance she will be antagonistic without any doubt, as I thought that a game where you play as "the villian" was a very interesting twist on what we usually get from vampire themed games. Growing up as a rich and spoiled girl, she is quite used to things always going the way she wants them to go, and using her unnatural powers gives her an extra advantage to do whatever it takes her to ensure that's exactly what happens. But deep inside she is not really evil, and a big amount the questionable things she does, she does out of necessity, such as killing people, because she needs to feed herself, or out from boredom and lonelyness, leading her to sometimes keep people as pets or slaves, or doing risky and dangerous things just get a thrill, like dancing outside at the brink of sunrise. In the same way Pendleton Ward's "Adventure Time" explained Marceline, their own vampire character, Elzie is not actually evil, but very very old and has "lost track of her moral code".

At some point in the future we will have a couple of chances to see Elzie interact with other characters, like Layna, the main character from @lightspiritdev 's "Project Light Spirit", which will give us a better insight on her personality, and how she relates and interacts with others. But that's also something for a different post too.

So, this is pretty much al the lore I always had in mind for Vampire's Bit, and more specifically for Elizabeth as a character. With this as a starting point let your imagination fly and feel free to come up with anything you want, and of course, please share it with me too, as I love to see different interpretations of her and the game.

#devlog #vampire #indie game #indie dev #Vampire's Bit

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Bring Him Light - iii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The reader confronts King Steven.

Warnings: nothing really... just really wordy. pretty uneventful.

Word Count: 2.1k

Note: This originally had 4K+ (+ because i’m still writing) but I opted to cut this chapter in half because it felt overloaded. Forgive me.

I hope you enjoy!

Bring Me Light Masterlist

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

Tensions quickly rose after that night. Even those without eyes could see that you steadily avoided the king. Any time King Steven entered a room you previously occupied, you found a reason to leave.

Rumors had begun to swirl.

Some told the tale of how you were displeased with the king – displeased with the arranged marriage. You were seen as the fiery princess of York, defiant and headstrong like your king father who was at war with their nation years ago. You were unwilling to settle down even if it meant you would be queen to a respected nation and the wife to a revered king. Your actions proved to be a rejection – a rejection of Brooken, of their king – and the people began to resent you even before you took your place at Steven’s side.

Some spun a story that further supported the rumors you heard in York and even in Brooken itself. Some said you saw the king’s cruelty firsthand and have plans to flee. Perhaps you ignoring the king was a ploy to get him to dismiss you, send you back to York, so that you did not marry him. Some said that the king would kill you for your defiance and instead of giving their king a son, you would give him another widow.

You heard the rumors. Every whisper, every mutter, every side eye and glance – you saw and heard it all. But you paid it no mind. As you did the king, you simply ignored the rumors. It did you no good to entertain them.

The king’s words still hung in the air every time you managed to look at him. The threat still as vibrant. It frightened you. Who was the man that smiled with you, entertained you, commissioned you a bow, and called you my love? Was he the same man in the dungeon – ordering the torture of a prisoner?

You hoped they were different people. That the king was not cruel as the rumors painted him out to be. Were you just naïve?

Visitors have started pouring into the castle. Nobles, royalty alike ready to bear witness to your marriage. It was a promising union. The north finally putting aside their years of discord and hostility to unite for peace – to unite against the Mad King who continued to claim more land. It was a treaty between York and Brooken that was symbolized by rings wrapped around yours and King Steven’s fingers.

You stared on as the servants brought in your throne. “Pivot!”, “Up! Up!”, “To the right! The other right, you imbecile!” the man in charge ordered around. You chuckled to yourself at the man’s frustrations.

In York, your father’s throne stood tall and proud with intricate designs of red and gold – your house colors displayed proudly. Your mother’s had the same overall aesthetic and elegance but was much smaller – “dainty,” she called it, “as a queen, as a lady should be.” It was a decorative piece made to compliment the king’s seat like how a queen was to compliment a king.

It didn’t seem as if Brooken shared the same ideal. You didn’t know this, but King Steven believed that a queen isn’t just an accessory or a figurehead or a birther of heirs. He liked to believe that a queen was an equal to a king – that they were partners working together to make their kingdom great.

And it was made visual by the elegant bronze thrones whose heights were equal. They were tall and daunting. Terrifyingly beautiful.

“Do you like it?” You nearly jumped out of your own skin. Steven had snuck up behind you while you were lost in your admiration. You made an attempt to walk away, but he grabbed your upper arm gently and prevented you from fleeing. He leaned in and whispered, “we need to welcome our guests.”

“I believe that is your duty as king.” You simply responded. You tugged your arm out of his grip and with servants, lords, and other witnesses around you both, he let you go without struggle.

“I believe as Brooken’s future queen, it is your duty as well.” His voice was low. You couldn’t quite make out where his tone was. Was he angry? Was he teasing? You weren’t sure. It seemed as if Steven had a hidden talent for acting. One second he was charming, kind, and laughing with you the next he would probably snap at you, send you away to the dungeon to get your teeth ripped out. “And I’ll introduce you to the nobles you do not know. Acquaint yourself with your people.”

You wanted to retort that Brooken’s people were his people not yours – that York was your home and its people were your people. But you decided to remain silent and nod because he was right. As Brooken’s future queen, it didn’t matter where you were born or where you grew up or what blood ran through your veins. Upon your marriage, Brooken’s people will become your people too.

»————-　⚜　————-««

As the last of the guests left, Steven ordered everyone in the throne room to leave. Everyone slowly started to file out and you were making your way through the doors as well when he grabbed your hand and asked you to stay. You glanced over at Natasha, whom you confided in of what you heard in the dungeon, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“I know what you heard.” He muttered as soon as the doors shut. You glanced around the room. You were completely alone with the king. You felt a chill go through you. You didn’t like his tone, but you weren’t a pushover. You were a Stark.

So, you stared at his eyes, your voice strong like you, and said, “Does the man still have his teeth?” You cocked your head to the side. That caught him off guard.

He assumed you would deny it. He prepared for the confrontation. He imagined you’d argue that rose was a popular scent among women because of literature that described their heroines with that very scent. He’d counter and tell you that servants admitted to seeing you flee. He wasn’t prepared for you to come clean.

Steven raised his brows at you, amused. “This isn’t a joke, Steven. What does that man know that you need to? And would it kill you to show compassion to someone whom you’ve already imprisoned? He begged water and you denied him that. Perhaps if you listened to his needs, he’d provide you with the intel you’re desperate to know. Perhaps if you showed a little restraint instead of playing a power card like a king and listened like a good man would, then others wouldn’t paint you with such cruelty.”

“He’s a traitor. I needed him to tell me who else in my court, in my country that plot for my downfall.” You weren’t expecting that… Of course, you knew that others plotted against their monarchs. It’s how King Thanos gathered support and was able to infiltrate countries in the rate he does.

The king seized your hands, catching you off guard. His thumb gently grazed the finger where your wedding ring would be placed in two days. “I want to wash the toxicity away from my country, my court. I want to quash the unrest. I really do. I want my kingdom to be happy, stable, to flourish. I want to do it with you by my side. I trust you. And I understand this marriage isn’t what you may have wanted, but I want us to grow to tolerate one another, to find happiness in one another. I apologize if I frightened you. I understand my reputation on the battlefield is rather… unwelcoming.”

“It’s frightening, yes,” you agreed with a nod and swallowed. “I think I do need to stop listening to servant gossip. I apologize for my part in our current unhappiness. I do want that though. I may be of York and a Stark, but I do want Brooken to be successful, to be great. I want happiness and I want love. Two things I thought that I will not get in this marriage.”

“We might not be at the current position to love each other. We have only met nearly weeks ago.” He agreed.

“But perhaps, we can grow to it. We will be bound together for eternity soon after all.” You offered him a smile, one that he returned.

He was relieved to hear you say that you two were on the same page. It was refreshing. Steven glanced down at your lips. Your smile as enchanting and beautiful as you. He wasn’t sure if it was an overstep, but the glint in your eyes told him it might not be. So, he took the chance and pulled you closer to him.

You gasped as you lost your footing and crashed against the king, but he held you up and flush against his body. You stared up at him in surprise. His smile was still there. You wondered if the reason why he never smiled in his portraits was because the artist would be distracted. His smile was hypnotizing. You could stare at him forever.

And slowly, he leaned in. You remembered how he was with a bow and arrow. Quick, precise, confident. The man leaning down towards you was unsure – his movements slow but deliberate. He was so close that you felt his breath on your face. You held yours in.

“What are you waiting for?” You whispered.

He smirked. Outspoken and amusing. He would never get tired of you. Steven leaned in, closing the gap between your lips. Your eyes fluttered close, as did his, as you both moved in unison.

You found your footing again, balancing yourself and melting into him. A bit shy and inexperienced – this was your first kiss after all – you tried to pull away, but Steven’s hands gently cupped your cheeks and held you in place. He grew intoxicated by your scent of roses, quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your lips. He felt a fire igniting within himself, the embers spelling out your name. You both got lost in the passion that neither of you expected to be there.

Suddenly, a cough caused you two to quickly separate. Wide eyed, you turned and saw your father’s entertained smirk. You blushed and looked down, curtsying to your king father.

“Tony.” Steven greeted. He wiped his lips as subtly as he could, but the older king saw it as did the queen at his side with a similar expression with her eyebrows raised. “You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“I grew impatient. Made our driver go faster.” Your father smirked as he turned to you. You bit on your lower lip as your eyes wandered around the room. “Did we interrupt something?”

“No.” You and Steven said in unison.

Your father had a knowing smirk on his face. “Daughter, you look lovely. I take it you’re enjoying your time in Brooken?”

“Yes, father,” you nodded. You nearly rolled your eyes at his teasing.

“My love, stop teasing.” Your mother chastised, slapping his shoulder. She opened her arms for you and you gave her a smile as you accepted her hug. “I told you.” She muttered in your ear low enough so only you heard it. You blushed even more as you pulled away from her and stood at Steven’s side.

“I’m sure the journey was tiresome. Shall I call for a servant to escort you to your rooms?” You asked, forcing a courteous smile. Your mother smiled and nodded. “Mother, is Morgan and Harvey with you?” You were eager to see your younger siblings – and honestly quite relieved that they hadn’t witnessed yours and Steven’s moment.

Her smile quickly faded as she glanced to your father, wordlessly asking him to help. The York King simply waved his hand and shook his head. “Morgan’s far too young to be traveling right now.” You found that odd. Your mother wouldn’t have simply left her months old infant in the care of the nannies. She would’ve wanted to supervise and micromanage them as she did with Harvey and undoubtedly with you. “And Harvey’s …” He paused for a moment. “Your brother’s exhausted from his constant training. We decided it was best if we left the children in our castle.”

“Of course.” Steven nodded. “Please,” he smiled and motioned for the doors. He offered you his arm which you smiled and took as you both led your parents out of the throne room and into the corridors. You asked one of the servants who passed by to escort the other pair to their chambers. After your parents left you two once again, Steven took your hand and brought it to his lips. “Two days.”

“Two days.” You agreed with a nod.

#bring him light #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #captain america

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thedanceronthestreets · 4 years

Text

PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change.

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange.

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school.

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed.

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress.

What are you most afraid of at the moment?

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves.

How have you spent the last few months?

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket.

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero?

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie.

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then?

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital.

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in?

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative.

How were you welcomed in California?

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path.

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child?

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology.

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home?

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories.

Was that your first performance?

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered?

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this.

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays.

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time.

Do you miss travelling?

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past.

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City?

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle.

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to?

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked.

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes?

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet?

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable!

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't?

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape.

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate?

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up.

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career?

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence.

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life?

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age.

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something?

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk.

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

#pedro pascal #gq germany #Gq

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catharsistine · 3 years

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To Write A Good Villain

TW: loss of control, hallucinogenics, dr*gs, sc*rs, venom, bl*od, death, defeat, s*x, god, volcanoes, pr*dtors, m*rder, j*alousy, smoking, ab*se, cheating, sl*very, oppression, servitude, vampires, destruction.

Technically, I'm here on Tumblr as a writer. So. It's time I contributed my itty bitty bit.

Many things make a good story. Some claim it is world-building, some think it the cast of protagonists, some the vivid descriptions. All of those elements, however, will seem lacklustre, if your story does not have a good villain. What use is an MC with glorious superpowers or magic, if there is nothing to oppose them? Can there be any victory without a great evil?

In real life? Perhaps. In any fictional world? No. The readers tune in for awesome conflict, so we writers must provide, and enjoy ourselves while doing so.

So what does make a great villain?

Before we explore that, let us review the types of villains. Most important to remember is that a villain need not be human. In literature, there can be many types of discord:

- Person Vs Self: Often used as a compelling subplot, this kind of conflict is valid when a person needs to do something that is opposed to their inner self, something they find morally, emotionally or intellectually repulsive. Eg; A scholar forced to indulge in activities that are unscientific, like smoking when they know it is bad for their health. A pacifist who is forced into a war situation and must commit murder to save their own or their family's lives. A person seeking enlightenment struggles with jealousy when their guru finds a new favourite. (IMPORTANT: Feeling conflicted due to one's morals is acceptable. Hating oneself due to a mental disorder is not. Please do not use mental illness as a plot point.)

- Person Vs Person: Often used as a primary plot point in standalone stories and movies, this kind of conflict is valid when a person bears a personal grudge or hatred toward another. Eg; A wrestler hating someone who defeated them in the ring through sabotage. A child-hating the murderer that orphaned them and their sibling. A person hating their lover who manipulated, gas-lit or cheated on them. (IMPORTANT: Ensure that abuse and abusers are not romanticized, that the healing journey of the character does not lead to them forgiving their abuser. Forgiveness is not a prerequisite for closure. Please do not encourage abuser-abused relationships.)

- Person Vs Society: Often used as a primary plot point in dystopian stories and movies, this kind of conflict is valid when a person aims to fight against a law or a government that systematically oppresses them. Eg; A womon fighting against the law which considers them as lower-class citizens. A PoC fighting against slave laws. A member of the working class rebelling against the bourgeoisie. (IMPORTANT: If you are not a minority, do not presume you are qualified to tell their story. Our stories belong to us alone, and taking away from us the privilege of sharing our trauma when we feel comfortable enough to do so is the worst kind of representation. Please remember if you occupy a position of power, you have no right to speak on our behalf. Already we are often silenced, do not participate in that further if you claim to be an ally.)

- Person Vs Machine: Often used as a primary plot point in science fiction stories and movies, this kind of conflict is valid when any man-made object gains enough intelligence to be considered sentient and becomes a threat to humanity. Eg; A machine that acts as a maid desiring to be free of the bonds of its servitude. An AI which does not have empathy and value for human life. A robot that attempts to destroy mankind. (IMPORTANT: These conflicts are often intricate, and can be spun anyway. Perhaps a human tries to teach a robot to love, and the result is embarrassing in a comedic way. But do not try to equate people on the asexual and aromantic spectrums, people with mental illness or people with severe trauma to these AI. They are extremely discriminated against. Please, do not contribute to the stigma.)

- Person Vs Nature: Often used as a compelling subplot, this kind of conflict is valid when a person is pitted against fauna and flora in a vulnerable state. Eg; A captive who has escaped their bonds only to come upon a harsh landscape. A person with severe allergies visits a place that is opposed to their disposition. A person with a grudge against a famous wild animal who bit off their leg. (IMPORTANT: In many such stories, a trend is that a character comes across a hostile tribal group. These tribes are portrayed only the negative attributes of certain PoC cultures. Doing so is blatantly racist and highly offensive. Please refrain from representing us in such appalling ways.)

- Person Vs Fate/Supernatural: Often used as a primary plot point in fantasy and YA stories and movies, this kind of conflict is valid when a person is threatened or working against a force that is outside nature. Eg; A person coming across a magical artefact belonging to a god, and the devil's henchmen are after it, but it has bonded to them. A lower-level employee working in a tampon factory accidentally discovering their boss is a deadly vampire. A person falling in love, only to discover their partner is heir to a clan of selkies, and their younger sibling plans on overthrowing them. (IMPORTANT: Oftentimes, the villains are given physical and cultural attributes exclusive to PoC and their culture, like the antagonist having dreadlocks or enjoying food that lies outside white cuisine. Please realise that is racist.)

How to create a proper villain:

1. Motive.

Arguably the most important factor in a villain is motive. Their end goal must be reasonable(depends on their moral compass), achievable(depends on their means), and must cause moral conflict in the protagonist.

Eg; Due to childhood trauma, a villain feels weak and unsafe in their own skin. Adopting a terrifying persona, they seek to control everyone around them, and by extension, the world, through a potent hallucinogen. Considered worthless until they design a new identity, the villain is only considered a threat when they overthrow a monarchy/gain obscene amounts of money/create a giant machine. The MC knows that the villain is wrong in their actions, but understands that their henchmen are drugged, and must choose a different course of action than brute force to defeat them.

2. Power/Skill

Expanding on the earlier point of a goal being achievable, a villain must have the capabilities to obtain the prize they desire. If they perform actions outside their means, the entire premise becomes boring and unrealistic. Unless the villain is playing pretend for a future plot twist, humble the antagonist before they get out of hand.

Eg; A machine cannot destroy the world if they do not have an intricate base code if they are not linked to machines around the world. An animal cannot be famous unless its existence is questionable unless it is more mythical than real unless it possesses some quality (a missing tooth, a scar across their eye) that the others of its breed do not have. Kindness cannot be a source of a moral dilemma if it is not shown in many actions of the protagonist.

3. Appearance.

Contrary to popular belief, the way a villain looks contributes greatly to their story. If the appearance of an antagonist does not match their other attributes, the villain may fall flat and feel one-dimensional.

Eg; If a person comes from humbler beginnings, them wearing designer clothes is not feasible. A wealthier person should at least maintain the appearance of being well-groomed, but a few things out of place, such as a tie clip, messy eyeliner, or stubble are acceptable, perhaps due to lack of respect for themselves, or mania from unfulfilled desires. If a plant is secretly venomous, let insects keep away from it. If a werewolf is known to violently transition, let them have a feral look in their eye, larger canines and stronger jawbones.

4. Presence

Outside of appearance, the overall vibe of the villain is of the utmost importance. Their aesthetic instils fear, inspires awe, which is one of the primary things that cause audiences to secretly root for them. Their smooth delivery of scathing, savage lines makes us fall in love with them. Having a stellar, scary presence amplifies whatever the villain does tenfold.

Eg; If a villain wears a daring dress, different from the style of their era, it will make them seem much more impressive. Fresh after a murder, if they have blood splattered on their face, it will make the ghastliness of their actions more resounding. If they're haunting little children, having grotesque features instead of sharp ones will terrify the kids more, and the readers.

5. Backstory

Why did the villain become a villain in the first place? This is perhaps the most important question when it comes to antagonists. Not only do backstories help us understand the villain's motives and reasons better, but readers may also root for them if they glimpse a part of them reflected in the villain, making the tale more painful to read.

Eg; If a bully has been abused at home, it explains their actions. If a villain was in a situation where their body was not theirs, their actions may be born out of a desire for control.

Things to avoid:

1. Do not make them a caricature. Avoid toxic and dull stereotypes such as "catty ex-girlfriend", "sex-crazed womon", "evil old pr*dator" etc. Not only are these caricatures cartoonish and overused, but they also make a villain hollow and lifeless. Villains are humans too, give them quirks, bad habits and things they enjoy, beliefs of their own. (Eg; They enjoy watching cat videos, smoke or bite their nails, enjoy mixing drinks for fun, and think God is a hoax.)

2. Avoid coding them as PoC or LGBTQ+. If you have a diverse cast of various races, ethnicities, sexualities and genders, then it is completely alright to write another such character as the villain. However, if your only minority character is the villain, that is highly problematic.

3. A backstory does not equate to sympathy. If the villain's actions are extremely reprehensible, including and not limited to; r*pe, g*nocide, ab*se or s*rial murder, please do not try to redeem them. Understanding someone's motives is wildly different from making the audiences sympathize with them. Do not romanticize their flaws.

4. Lastly, humble them. A villain will always entertain the audiences if they suffer a bit too. Instead of constant angst and pain, add lighter moments, moments where they stumble, trip, are tired or bored. This would make their eventual death/defeat burn even more, and the audience will definitely mourn the loss of a wonderful antagonist.

Like a volcano, a true villain leaves ashes in their wake, but their fire forces the protagonists to solidify into stone. Let their actions echo into the age.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #writer #writing tips #writing advice #am writing #tumblr writers #writing community #villians #antagonist #evil #backstory #writing tricks #writing help #okay im done

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“Texts about petty treason clearly depict where and how women murder their husbands, but they have more trouble explaining why women do so. Just as the murderous wife challenged the conceptions of women's legal and moral stature on which marriage and social order depended, she also posed a problem for the many writers-hacks, ministers, legal personnel (judges, justices of the peace, clerks, and theorists), chroniclers, playwrights, and balladeers-who rushed to tell and sell her story. These authors attempt to tell a story in which a wife becomes the protagonist without conferring too much authority, prestige, or sympathy on a criminal, married woman.

For only through transgression could such women, usually wives of yeomen, shopkeepers, tradesmen, and small landowners, demand attention outside of the household and neighborhood; only thus could they become the topic of debate in legal treatises and on streetcomers, the focus of attention in courtrooms and on scaffolds; only through transgression could they command a place at the center of a popular narrative as the protagonist of the story. If killing her husband made it possible for a wife to be at the center of a story, it remained a difficult story to tell. Certainly pamphlets describe who did what to whom with ease. Yet the texts that struggle to tell the story of a wife's transgression attempt to redress it through a didacticism that restricts the narration of her motives and desires.

Once the writers begin to explore motives, they lose control of the moral of the story, for the more the reader engages with the wife the less simple the lesson becomes. To imagine, let alone sympathize or identify with, the frustrations of a wife is to question the legal and moral assumption that in the household there is only one citizen, one legal agent, one property owner, one decision maker: the husband. Some sixteenth- and seventeenth-century texts employ an explanation for the behavior of murderous wives that we often see in today's news and in popular culture; they represent the murderer as a battered wife who resorts to violence in despair and self-defense. Contrary to reductive analyses of the early modern family and the position of women in it, these period texts suggest a popular perception that husbands sometimes beat their wives to an extent that exceeded lawful correction and prudence and that beatings put wives in "a fit humour for the devill to worke on."

Alice Clarke, for instance, is described as having visible bruises at the time that she is apprehended and examined for killing her husband. Even Henry Goodcole, the minister who counsels her and writes the gruesomely titled The Adultresses Funerall Day (1635) about her case, sees a connection between those bruises and her actions. The beatings described in such texts include not only drunken and impulsive assaults "with the next cudgell that came accidentally unto his hand" but also sadistic, eroticized rituals, such as "tying her to his bed-post to strip her and whippe her, etc." Although pamphlets exploit the titillation of such stories, despite the coy propriety of that "etc.," they also suggest that husbands could be uncontrolled, savage, and "unnatural," and that wives, especially those isolated from friends and neighbors by shame, distance, and religious or ethnic difference, might have felt that violence was their only recourse.

Under common law, husbands had a legal right to beat their wives; however, the limits on this right were debated in conduct literature and explored in ecclesiastical courts when members of the community feared that excessive beatings threatened the wife's life and the peace of the neighborhood. The law did not spell out the limits on discipline except to assume that husbands did not have the right to kill their wives. As Martin Ingram explains, "Domestic relations were thus on the borders of public and private morality in this period-matters to be influenced by exhortation but not ordinarily by the exercise of formal discipline." To say that domestic relations remained outside "formal" discipline is not to say that they were unobserved or unregulated; neighbors and the local community exerted informal control over marriage and domesticity in many ways, including confrontation, shaming rituals, and bringing the offending couple before the justice of the peace for "unquietness."

A husband's authority over his wife remained legally and morally ambiguous, even if the community's scrutiny constrained him. Since a husband's treatment of his wife remained largely beyond legal regulation, conduct literature appealed to the husband's judgment, urging him to regulate himself. In one of the many discussions of wifebeating in conduct literature, William Gouge suggests that beating one's wife undermines household governance because it opens up a space between the husband and wife, revealing that they are not one flesh, not one legal agent, but two: "Now a wife having no ground to be perswaded that her husband hath authority to beat her, what hope is there that she will patiently beare it, and be bettered by it? Or rather is it not likely that she will if she can, rise against him, over-master him (as many do) and never doe any duty aright?"

The husband's violence threatens to incite a contest for mastery; once the context of violence enables the wife to enter the fray as a combatant, the outcome is uncertain. One account of a wife's reaction to a marital rape, which we might not expect to find recognized as an offense in this period, clearly shows how a wife's subjectivity is constructed as violent, as a choice of her own life over her husband's life. In her examination recorded in A Hellish Murder (I688), Mary Aubrey (or Hobry), a French midwife, describes a history of dissension with her husband because she would not cooperate with him "in Villanies contrary to Nature."

On the night of the murder, after beating her savagely, "he attempted the Forcing of this Examinate to the most Unnatural of Villanies, and acted such a Violence upon her Body in despite of all the Opposition that she could make, as forc'd from her a great deal of Blood, this Examinate crying out to her Landlady, who was (as she believes) out of distance of hearing her.” When she insists that she cried out, Aubrey employs the strategy of the rape victim, who had to demonstrate that she had made a "hue and cry" and thus had not consented. In presenting Aubrey's compelling testimony about this assault, A Hellish Murder not only suggests limits on a husband's rights to and power over his wife's body but also constructs a subjectivity for Mary Aubrey out of her despair, her sense of grievance, and her determination to escape.

Aubrey finally demands of her husband, "Am I to lead this Life for ever?" only to receive more threats in response. In asking that question, Mary Aubrey is portrayed as raising a voice and imagining herself as having a life separate from and in conflict with her husband's. By depicting her reaction to abuse and her contemplation of retaliatory violence, this text constitutes Aubrey as a self-conscious, speaking subject. Later, beside her sleeping husband, she thinks "with her self," "What will become of me? What am I to do! Here am I Threatned to be Murder'd, and I have no way in the World to Deliver my self, but by Beginning with him." Aubrey's subjectivity is seen not only as the midwife's deliverance of herself but as a birth that depends on a death.

"Immediately upon these thoughts," she stoutly undertakes the murder of her husband, strangling and dismembering him, and lugging parts of his body around in her petticoat to dispose of them. Popular accounts of petty treason usually shy away from such risky representation of a wife's conscious articulation of rights that are allied to violence by their very conception. The resulting attempts both to account for the complexities of domestic friction and to achieve some sympathy for the abused wife, while keeping authority vested in the husband, however tyrannous, can verge on the absurd.

Goodcole describes one "young and tender" wife, who, repenting after administering poison to her "old, peevish," and abusive husband, fruitlessly pleads with him to take an antidote to preserve his life. "Nay thou Strumpet and murderesse," Goodcole reports him as saying, "I will receive no helpe at all but I am resolvd to dye and leave the world, be it for no other cause, but to have thee burnt at a stake for my death." * Although the wife is executed at Smithfield, Goodcole regards the husband, in his spiteful insistence on dying, as the agent. Sarah Elston, in her scaffold confession as recorded in A Warning for Bad Woo (1678), "protested again most seriously, that she never in her life had the least designe or thoughts of killing [her husband], onely it was an unfortunate Accident; and whether it came by a blow from her, or his violent running upon the point of the sizzars as she held them out to defend her self, she could not to this minute certainly tell."

These comic moments reveal how pamphleteers who wish to portray murderous wives as penitent and pitiful must awkwardly scramble to shield them from the imputation of intending to kill, just as they are presented as shielding themselves from blows. To characterize such women as assessing their hopeless situations and deciding to take violent action to escape them, that is, to present them as subjects, is also to remove them from sympathy and to open up disturbing implications about the marital relation of authority and submission. Writers in effect displace responsibility onto the husbands, positioning them as still in charge, even if drunken, violent, and absurdly self-destructive. In representations of domestic conflict in early modem popular culture-ballads, pamphlets, and plays, shaming rituals and jokes- the wife diminishes or usurps her husband's claims to authority as she asserts herself by committing adultery, beating or bossing her husband, or plotting to kill him.

For instance, Arden of Faversham (1592), a play about an actual case of petty treason, can be seen as an extended cuckold joke. Like such jokes, and like popular shaming rituals such as the charivari, the play holds the cuckolded husband responsible for his wife's adultery and insubordination. If the husband and wife become a joint subject at marriage, then, these popular representations seem to suggest, the wife's enlargement into volition, speech, and action necessarily implicates, diminishes, and even eliminates the husband. These popular representations push the logic of coverture to suggest an economy of marital subjectivity that leaves room for only one subject. They constitute the wife as a subject only to the extent that they qualify her husband's claims to subject status by silencing and immobilizing him and casting doubt on his authority and potency.

The fact that popular accounts of such crimes acknowledge the role of abuse in inciting women to murder challenges assumptions we still have about women's rights within marriage and the monolithic power wives who defied the patriarchy during this period. It also complicates the notion of petty treason by introducing the possibility of tyrannous household government and by suggesting, albeit hesitantly, that there arc some justifications for rebellion. Certainly, contemporary debates about the limits on conscientious submission to civil and domestic authorities have a bearing on relations within the household and the understanding of petty treason. Writers of sermons and conduct books about marriage explicitly include the situation of the godly wife in their considerations of the limits on obedience to earthly authority; they advocate a demanding balance between submission and resistance, silence and good counsel.

In those cases of petty treason that resulted in convictions and made it into print, however, the circumstances in the household did not mitigate the wife's guilt. These women were executed as petty traitors despite their husbands' inadequacies as household governors. Although juries may actually have taken extenuating circumstances into consideration when they deliberated over cases of petty treason, these texts hold the husband responsible as well as depict the execution of the guilty wife; they recognize limits to a husband's power over his wife, yet present a wife's violent resistance as ultimately unjustifiable and destructive of the political order. Popular representations make these contradictions between husbandly authority and wifely submission visible, but they do not resolve them.”

- Frances E. Dolan, “Home-Rebels and House-Traitors: Petty Treason and the Murderous Wife.” in Dangerous Familiars: Representations of Domestic Crime in England, 1550 - 1700

#history #frances e. dolan #cw: domestic violence #cw: rape #renaissance #tudor #elizabethan #jacobean #stuart #dangerous familiars

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