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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Vincenzo: The Gentleman Villain Reborn

Long before there were loudmouth buff guys in spandex, there was the gentleman villain.

There once was a time when the gentleman villain, whether a gentleman thief in the Raffles or Lupin mold, or murderous arch-criminals like Fu Manchu and Fantomas, organizations like Les Vampires, and even in-between figures like Rocambole and Judex, was the coolest thing in the pop culture block. The figures right around the corner of Baker Street, when Nick Carter and Sexton Blake and any billion old serial detectives weren’t quite cutting it. Their time was not to last long in the spotlight, as the pulp heroes consolidated domain in the 30s and then the superheroes took over, but every now and then, they return in various forms, never fully gone. But I’d dare say I’d never seen a gentleman villain story quite so bold, so modern, so dynamic and so gloriously over-the-top in pride over it’s existence, until I began watching Vincenzo.

Vincenzo is BADASS and I don’t use the term lightly. Not just the titular character, but the show itself. It’s currently a couple episodes short of the finale and you should stop everything you’re doing or watching and go watch Vincenzo. It’s been an utterly glorious ride from beginning to end with no shortage of great characters, terrific writing, great relationships and jaw-dropping moments as every episode succeeds in topping each other in WOW HOLY SHIT factor. It’s a shot of adrenaline and storytelling excellence to the eyeballs and you don’t have anything better to be doing right now than watching this.

I mentioned a while ago that Black was a show that, besides being also terrific in quality, captured my interest as a Shadow fan specifically because I saw in Black what I believe is the heart of The Shadow as a character: an embodiment of evil, motivated and created and warped by social catastrophe and strife, set loose to punish true evil in order to protect humanity. In that regard, if Black is where I find the heart of The Shadow, Vincenzo is where I find the spirit of what I like about The Shadow as a series: Cathartic urban fairytales where an extraordinary agent of change, armed with incredible cunning, sleight-of-hand and combat skills, rises above a dark background to command a folk brigade of ordinary people who reveal themselves to be extraordinary through their newfound purpose, to right the wrongs of society’s predators, by being better at their tactics than they are and turning their tools against them.

I’m gonna spoil it a bit under the cut but please go watch it. I cannot praise this show enough and I’ll do my best to try.

Vincenzo centers around the titular character, Vincenzo Cassano, an Italian lawyer who works for the mafia as a consigliere, adopted by it’s Don at the age of eight. After the death of the Don and an attempted betrayal by his son, Vincenzo flees to Seoul and ends up taking residence at a ramshackle building called Geumga Plaza. Geumga Plaza is the hiding place of a gigantic stash of gold hidden by one of Vincenzo’s former clients, and he intends to retrieve it to rebuild his life somewhere else. Naturally, not only is the hidden room completely impenetrable, but the building is occupied. by residents who are being forced out of it by criminals working for the Babel corporation, which intends to take possession of the building. And thus, Vincenzo has to put his skills into working out progressively bigger problems, as his efforts to uncover the gold turn into a fight against Babel and it’s lawyers, as the problems take on bigger and bigger proportions.

Vincenzo’s got a lot of what you’d expect from a k-drama at first glance. The leading man is a dashing young man, the leading lady is headstrong and stubborn, you see their romance coming a mile away and they take their damn time getting there, there’s emotional backstories that take a long time to be revealed, lots of wacky side characters and comedy interspersed with the darkest moments, a focus on corporate corruption, and so on. But it’s got an intrusion of elements brought by Vincenzo’s inclusion, such as mob drama, tonal and cultural imbalance, and the gentleman villain tropes that Vincenzo brings, as the catalyst of change whose antics backflip through action hero, romantic hero, super hero and super villain, cunning puppetmaster and gun-toting warrior alike, and start to have an effect on the world around him. His allies become stronger, more determined and effective, and the villains grow smarter and more horrid as they desperately try to avoid their own downfalls.

On paper, Vincenzo is almost a textbook example of how to craft a villain protagonist. He’s a mysterious foreigner with a hidden past and incredible skills who shows up uninvited in “our” world, who starts terrorizing and manipulating people into doing his bidding. He’s got a hotheaded and foolish investigator chasing after his every move, and frequently employs misdirection and sleight-of-hand to fool the authorities. He commits crimes and employs underhanded methods in the service of stamping out people worse than himself. He never really makes any claim of being a hero and actively rejects the notion he’s fighting for justice, but instead states he’s doing it as a matter of principle. One of the characters early on even states he gives off the vibe of a movie villain, even Vincenzo himself tells Hong Cha-Young, the female lead, that he’s teaching her how to be a proper villain. In another series, Vincenzo would be the hypercompetent sidekick to the main villain, or secretly the main villain, the lone badass that the action hero would have a tough fight against before defeating and moving on. But Vincenzo does not allow himself to be dismissed so easily.

On the first episode, when we’re introduced to him in Italy, he’s painted as the badass to end all badasses. But the minute he arrives in Seoul, he falls for a trick at the airport and is mugged by two cabbies, and has to walk around penniless and without dignity, shouting curses in Italian that nobody understands. He has to sleep in a broken down apartment, his “taking a steamy shower with classical music playing” fanservice scene keeps being interrupted because the shower doesn’t work, and a pigeon chattering outside his window keeps ruining his sleep.

The tenants of the building are all introduced as varying levels of unsympathetic and useless, or downright creepy. The tailor screws up his favorite suit, the chef who claims to have studied in Italy is a total fraud, there’s tenants who scare us by passing as ghosts and zombies, and Hong Cha-Young is introduced as an unlikable stooge for Babel. Vincenzo is a villain protagonist who is forced out of his grand mafia epic film, where he conducts business around lavish manors while classical music plays, and stumbles onto a korean drama, a world that operates by different rules and where no one has any reason to take him seriously at first, and gradually finds out that the difference between both worlds is not as big as he’d imagined.

It’s only at the very end of the first episode, when the neighborhood gangsters show up to terrorize the tenants, that Vincenzo starts to kick ass again, and he has not stopped so far. In fact, not just him, ALL of the tenants have gradually started kicking ass with him. Hong Cha-Young severs all connections to Babel and proves to be, as his main partner in crime, just as cunning, twice as driven, and three times as batshit and kooky. The tailor who ruined his suit turns out to be an ex-gang member capable of fending off groups of thugs with only his scissors. The creepy piano girl reveals herself a hacking genius, the zombie impersonators become incredible actors, the failed wrestler and badass wannabe becomes his most active field agent along with his equally strong wife, the chef improves his cooking and lends his restaurant as a meeting center, all of the characters, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM gradually become incredible, competent, resourceful people, really no different than they were before, it just took a little courage and pushing.

The headstrong and foolish agent pursuing Vincenzo becomes 100% smitten with him and quickly becomes one of his greatest allies. Even the neighborhood gangsters, after being left to die by Babel and forced to start anew, quickly become some of his most loyal allies, and gradually redeem themselves in the eyes of the tenants to the point they become friends. In departing from his old family, Vincenzo forms a new one, even if never by his intention. They even all get matching suits.

This incredibly potent, human core surrounding the antics of an extraordinary figure of action is part of what used to make the Agents of The Shadow such a special, meaningful and beloved part of the series, and something every adaptation since then has been 100% poorer for neglecting. But Vincenzo does it, and does it right. I could watch a billion adventures with these people and never get sick of them.

Vincenzo is a slick, modern take on the gentleman villain that takes many of it’s oldest conventions and provides blueprints for making them work in modern times. His plans often take a performance art-edge as he employs tactics both old-fashioned and modern, like using social media to stage an event in front of the Plaza so the bulldozers set to demolish it won’t be able to pass, or copying files and passing them to his police contact while keeping the real ones when said police contact inevitably betrays him. The tenants put all of their skills to use, no matter how unusual or seemingly useless. Every episode lays the groundwork for a smashing finale where all of the threads come together and we bare witness to a grand tapestry of karmic retribution.

The villains themselves are no slouch, and also have that modern edge that gradually ramps up. They stage discreet assassinations involving gas leaks and watches meant to burst into flames. They stack the deck impossibly against all characters. They employ masked goons by the dozens, armies of lawyers to smudge any connections between themselves and their actions, and every sector of society in covering them, from journalists publishing pro-Babel propaganda to police commissioners. The assistant of the main villain does zumba classes amidst ordering assassinations, and is often likened to a snake and a witch with her "Crystal Ball” (the name she uses for ordering assassin contacts by the phone), complete with a cowardly, scheming assistant she bullies at every turn. The CEO of Babel has a dual nature not out of place in a Jekyll & Hyde/Dorian Grey kind of story.

The main villain is often painted as a slasher villain backed by massive corporate power, murdering people with hockey equipments and even outright named “Jason” at one point, with a tense string theme song accompanying his deeds. The show hides the villain at plain sight by using one of the most familiar set-ups of romantic dramas and the tension never stops even after he’s revealed.

Mobster films tend to paint an idealized version of it’s protagonists, not necessarily because of a genuine love or interest with mobsters (I mean, it really goes without saying that real life mobsters are obviously not admirable figures), but out of a sense of displaying a “this is what it could be” fantasy, a fantasy where the mafioso is a dark hero who will still ultimately do the right thing and stick up for the little guy, in a similar way to how superheroes often function as police officers except, y’know, actually dedicated to protecting people.

Vincenzo does go to great lengths to address the imbalance of putting such a dark figure as it’s hero, through showing how the situation can only be addressed by the intrusion of a figure such as Vincenzo. There’s a scene where Vincenzo and Hong proceed to explain extremely succintly to their cop ally why the “bad apples” argument is horseshit. One of the show’s characters, someone who’s spent his entire life being the best person he could, and dedicating himself 110% percent to fighting evil even at the expense of connecting with his own family, someone who absolutely should be the hero to take down Babel, admits shortly before dying that it wasn’t enough, that it was never going to be enough, and that what the situation calls for isn’t a hero, but a monster. That monster being Vincenzo, who is not only powerful and monstrous, but commands the loyalty of people high and low class alike, criminals and law enforcement agents, to fight Babel. In his words, “the ultimate monster”, something even the world’s biggest badass cannot defeat by himself.

On most other set-ups, Vincenzo would be pretty unmistakably the villain. But here, when he’s set up against a starkly realistic depiction of how corporations actually function in our world, depicts that Vincenzo’s ability to clear his way through goons John Wick-style is nowhere near enough, and to that end, he’s gonna have to fight impossible battles using his brains and his allies. And in the end, he defeats them, time and time again, and proves that they were not that impossible after all.

One can only hope he’s on to something.

Oh yeah and THE PIGEON BY HIS WINDOW ALSO KICKS ASS and I will not explain how, just watch the show, I can’t do it justice no matter how much I talk about it.

#k-drama #vincenzo #i've fallen in the k-drama rabbit hole and I am not getting back up #I love everything about this show so goddamn much #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo

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casually-inlove · 4 years

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19 Days Character Archetypes. He Tian

This idea had been dancing around the back of my mind for a little over half a year now. I wanted to compare and contrast 19 Days characters with the list of archetypes proposed in the neo-Jungian research and finally, I got some time to spare. For this post, I am going to talk about He Tian. Before I begin, however, let me clarify a few things. Since the subject is fairly complex, I do not intend to write in detail about the theory itself or the studies mentioned because that is not the purpose of this post. I am only looking to give a quick and basic run-down of the common archetypes shared by the 19 Days characters.

What is an archetype? An archetype is a set of predefined characteristics, a mould. Carl Jung described the archetype as a “fundamental unit of a human mind” or a “primordial image”. Simply put, the archetypes are the recurring and simplified patterns — but also symbols. According to his ideas, these basic symbols exist universally irrespective of epochs, nations, cultures, races, places, etc. Jung believed them to be shared by the so-called collective unconsciousness. However, even before him, the philosophers of old introduced the ideas of pre-existing ideal immaterial forms which shape the material reality. Since the archetypes are fundamentally primordial, they permeate every single sphere of human life. Art, media, movies, day to day interactions — all of them deal in archetypes.

While working on his research, Carl Jung defined the driving impulses of the human psyche. In turn, that data helped him come up with underlying basis for human behaviour. Based on his findings, Jung outlined the so-called primary archetypes. Later his research served as a basis for many other studies and classifications, particularly for The 12 Archetype Model, proposed by Margaret Mark and Carol Pearson in “The Hero and the Outlaw”. Naturally, there can be an infinite number of archetypes, each having their subtleties; still, the short lists give the generalized picture. Deconstructing characters to these basic blueprints is a fair game because a character, no matter how complex, is still an abstract entity.

For this series of posts, I am going to rely on the 12 Archetype Model mentioned above. The list goes as follows:

1. The Innocent

2. The Orphan

3. The Hero

4. The Caregiver

5. The Explorer

6. The Rebel

7. The Lover

8. The Creator

9. The Jester

10. The Sage

11. The Magician

12. The Ruler

Having examined this list, I am led to believe that He Tian primarily represents a mixture of The Hero and The Rebel archetypes.

The Hero and The Rebel

Let us start with the most obvious, the Hero. This archetype is closely associated with the ideas of masculinity, and thus it is also referred as the Warrior, the Crusader, etc.

The Hero archetype characteristics

Motto: Where there is a will, there is a way

Core desire: to prove one's worth through courageous acts

Goal: expert mastery in a way that improves the world

Greatest fear: weakness, vulnerability, being a “chicken”

Strategy: to be as strong and competent as possible

Weakness: arrogance, always needing another battle to fight

Talent: competence and courage

These go very much in line with what we know of He Tian. His childhood flashbacks suggest that he indeed intends to be “the strongest”.

The failure to protect the puppy, the harsh words of He Cheng — all of it led him to become fixated on becoming the Hero, the one who swoops down and single-handedly saves the day. It is in the way he stands in to fight She Li for Guanshan or rushes to prevent Jian Yi from getting kidnapped. It is in the way he attempts to resolve the other boy’s problems with debt collectors. It is in the way he deflects the coke can and decides to meet his father for Guanshan's sake.

He Tian yearns to be the strongest because the alternative — being weak and helpless — has already scarred him in the past. Whatever joy he used to have as a child was taken from him, because he was not strong enough to handle things on his own. He entrusted the puppy to his brother and the man betrayed him — or so He Tian was led to believe.

More than that, he wants Guanshan to come to him, whether it’s talking about his complicated past or whether it’s about learning the guitar.

It goes without saying that He Tian is almost eerily good at anything he does — as such he believes he can learn music from scratch in a short time. That speaks volumes about the confidence he has in his capabilities, and yet to an outsider's perspective this might come off as blatant posturing.

Apart from almost baffling self-confidence that he shows, He Tian is also known for his nearly abnormal physical prowess. He managed to hold his ground against several armed adults (which is probably just flawed writing) and way back he even managed to impress Guanshan by effortlessly hopping over the school fence, so it makes one wonder what kind of training he had undergone.

However, the truth is, The Hero is also susceptible to weakness. In his work, Carl Jung has coined the term “The Shadow”, which became a stand-alone archetype in his list. The Shadow stands for our suppressed, ignored or denied traits, in other words, it is everything that we cannot see or refuse to see in ourselves. The concept of this hidden darkness has been since absorbed into a number posterior studies, such as Robert Moore’s and Douglass Gillette’s “King Magician Warrior Lover”, where they introduce triadic paradigms of the archetypes and their corresponding active and passive shadows. Notably, they link the aforementioned archetypes with the concept of “masculinity” and its development throughout adolescence into adulthood.

What is The Shadow to The Hero archetype? When The Hero cannot fulfill their purpose, they surrender to the shadow. The dark side takes their best qualities and transforms them into flaws. The confidence thus turns into arrogance and hubris, courage into foolhardiness, competence into bravado and posturing — or the complete opposite happens. Courage transforms into cowardice, confidence into insecurity, etc.

Whereas He Tian is concerned, before he had developed an emotional attachment to another person (and by doing so gained something to cherish), we could observe some of the definitive shadow patterns in his behaviour. Until he recognized Guanshan as someone to know and to protect, he used to goad the other boy, if not outright assume the position of his superior, demanding obedience and subservience. He Tian also used the snide tone when talking to Guanshan, and he did so in order to establish his power to steer the boy in what he deemed to be the right direction — that is attempting to curb Redhead’s short temper and brashness. And in doing so, he was not shy of subtly threatening the boy or using physical force to make his point.

To be in touch with his masculinity — that is to channel his energy constructively in order to feel strong and needed, — he required to have someone he could play the knight for. Once he could direct his inner impulses properly, his violent tendencies have subsided.

Even so, in his aspiration to be the ultimate good — driven by the hatred for his family background, perhaps — He Tian often opted for doing rash, foolhardy stuff, such as attempting to take on the debt collectors all by himself, for instance. Sure, he would have gotten to “save the day” and be the hero, but that single moment would have cost him his life.

Now, having glanced at the Hero archetype, let us move to the next one, The Rebel. This archetype is characterized by the following:

The Rebel archetype characteristics

Motto: Rules are made to be broken

Core desire: revenge or revolution

Goal: to overturn what is not working

Greatest fear: to be powerless or ineffectual

Strategy: disrupt, destroy, or shock

Weakness: crossing over to the dark side, crime

Talent: outrageousness, radical freedom

The Rebel is also known as the outlaw, the revolutionary, the wild man, the misfit, or iconoclast.

Indeed, He Tian rebels quite a bit in the manhua. First and foremost, his rebellion is directed at his flesh and blood — Mr He and Cheng.

Not much is known about He Tian’s childhood, yet it is pretty clear that he hadn’t exactly had a happy one. His mother died early on and he was left to grow up practically without parents since Mr He is a textbook absentee father. From what He Tian knows, his brother backstabbed him, an act that keeps plaguing their relationship years after, while his father is labeled as a monster — someone who is ostensibly capable of eliminating people who disobey.

It is also clear as the day that young He Tian is traumatized by whatever dealings his family conducts behind the scenes. At some point, we even witnessed a scene where HT is tossed out of the burning yacht, while his brother is covered in blood and holds a gun. A violent experience such as this inevitably leaves a scar — and actually get to see it. He Tian is shown to experience something closely reminiscent of PTSD, recurring violent nightmares, the fear of the dark, etc.

Back in the present day, we see that He Tian wants to put distance between himself and his family. It manifests in living separately from his kin and cutting the contact to a bare minimum. He makes a point of stating that he is independent, severing the ties he deems to be dysfunctional. Yet the same time He Tian cannot quite let go of his familial bonds. In particular, whenever He Cheng is concerned, the boy sneers and flagrantly shows his impetuousness and disrespect.

In many ways he’s practically stomping his feet, attempting to show that he doesn’t need his brother, yet by doing this he proves the opposite: he still yearns his bitter feelings to be validated by He Cheng — and by his father too, to an extent.

This results in bratty behaviour on his part: He Tian orchestrates property damage at the He mansion, impishly rejects Cheng’s gestures of goodwill, etc.That is the work of the Rebel’s “shadow” counterpart — when the desire to overturn things and break free takes on darker shade and slips into dangerous territory. Resisting and opposing then becomes a way of life, and only through it does the “shadow rebel” feel certain of their self.

He Tian pushes at the boundaries of what is permitted and socially acceptable to feel in control of the situation. If we examine the way He Tian interacts with others, we will see that the shadow manifests in many other ways. He Tian is compelled to stir and instigate others, using his wit and cunning to make them uncomfortable or confused, and thus easy to manipulate to his amusement.

Speaking of socially acceptable behaviour, Chinese culture places a great emphasis on the respect towards senior family members — and I probably cannot stress this enough — He Cheng lets him get away with this lack of reverence. Deep inside He Tian seeks his brother’s approval and attention, but rejects it when he is given, and in the process he sets out to tear down anything that displeases him.

Establishing a connection with Guanshan let He Tian fulfill his Hero potential and channel his energy in constructive ways, and yet at the same time, it allowed him to tap further into his “Shadow” Rebel tendencies. That is, to it rub in into He Cheng’s face that he’s no longer welcome or needed.

Naturally, as a character, He Tian possesses traits of other archetypes — such as The Lover, for instance — albeit to a lesser extent, so I’m not going to dive deep in here. Let me just mention, that as a Lover, He Tian is compelled to increase his attractiveness to his love interest — we often see him fishing for compliments and validation on Guanshan’s part, which underscores his inner need to feel needed and wanted, yet also turns into clinginess at times.

With that, this quick rundown of He Tian’s character patterns is complete. All in all, you could say that He Tian is fairly archetypal at his core, and yet it’s the combination of these “trite” features that mark him as an utterly realistic and believable character. It is because we’ve seen these archetypes countless times before that He Tian appears to be true to life.

Lastly, this is going to turn into a series of posts, but right now I cannot say when the next part is going to be up since writing this took me some time. In the meantime, you can read a bit more below ✨.

A bit more about He Tian | Support me at Ko-Fi

#19 days #he tian #long post #finally published

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theoriginalladya · 3 years

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100 Days of Writing - Day 11

@the-wip-project asked:

How do you create your characters? Do you make a profile of them? Do you know your character before you start writing the story?

Over my years of writing I've found a number of different ways to develop and keep track of my characters as they show themselves. I can't say I have one specific way that works - it's all dependent upon the story, the characters themselves, and their purposes in the story. But there are a few general things I can share. I guess you can say that they fall into a 'profile' for them?

I'm not an artist, so I tend to rely on images I can find online for 'face claims' for characters. If I have a really good idea of what they look like, and most time I do from the beginning, or nearly the beginning, I try to find an image that is as close as possible to represent them. I am a very visual person - I need to see them to be able to write them. So some sort of facial image - a photograph, artwork, etc. - always helps

Many of my notes end up in notebooks - mostly handwritten, though I do use Word and OneNote to help organize different things about my stories, too. I usually go handwritten at first - something as simple as scraps of paper, a stack of post it notes, even an old college notebook that barely has any pages left. If it's a character I know will be a biggie in my story, or my main character, I'll invest in a new/unused notebook for them. Some are fancier than others (depending on my mood and finances at the time), but all contain descriptions of the character, little snippets of dialogue I've thought of for them, notes about their plots, character development exercises so I get a better feel for them, notes about their background/family, ideas for their character development I don't want to forget to put into the story, etc.

I mentioned 'character development exercises' - but that's just a fancy way of saying 'ideas about how they progress from the beginning to the end of the story'. Events in their life. Problems they have. Death, sickness, drama, etc. Interaction with certain characters. Sometimes I start noodling out bits and pieces of their interaction well before I've even got a plot sorted out for them, and I don't want to forget that, so I write it down. Again, in notebooks, or sometimes in Word, because typing happens almost at the speed of thought, right?

So, basically, anything and everything I know about my characters ends up in a 'notebook' or 'document' and 'file' somewhere at some point. It all sounds a lot more organized than it really is, but it helps.

As for knowing a character before I start? Most of the time, I do know them, at least well enough to have a good grasp of how they speak, react in certain situations, etc. That works really well when I get the idea for a character first.

Other times, I start with pretty much a blank page and just write. In these instances, it's the idea of the story that hits me hardest, and I have to start writing it down to see what characters want to get involved. It's more of a challenge, especially for someone like me who is more visual inclined, but it works well enough the few times I've tried it. This is kind of what happened when I started writing my Robyn's Hoode story. I mean, we all know who the major characters are, but it begins with a battle up in Northern England/Southern Scotland involving two minor characters for whom I had a very vague idea - Robin's father, Marian's father - and that's it. By the end of that chapter, I had a much better idea of who they are (even if one doesn't survive).

(example below the cut because this got long)

To the east, lying against one of the outer walls of the castle of Alnwick, Gilbert spotted him. Or, rather, spotted the standard raised above. Several bodies blocked the rest from view, one on bended knee, but all hovered in a semi-circle around what could only be a body. Hugh’s body. Lips tightening into a thin line, Gilbert pressed onward. Refusing to see to it personally would not change the grimness of the outcome, no matter how much he wished it.

Purpose and authority marked every step, and those gathered soon parted, making way for the lord of Loxley. His eyes dropped immediately, and for once in his life, Gilbert cursed himself, wishing he was wrong. Hints of crimson bled through plates of mail on his chest, and dribbled down Hugh's cheek and chin like a burbling babe’s drool. Inevitability and acceptance shone clear in familiar green eyes, and Gilbert knew without a doubt it wasn't meant to be.

Dropping to a knee beside the litter, he reached out a hand, bracing it against Hugh’s shoulder. “You had to go and split our forces,” he murmured with a hint of humor despite the severity of the situation.

Hugh, eyes slowly finding the blue of his friend’s, coughed out a laugh, ignoring the fresh spurt of liquid staining his lips. “You… you know me, my… my lord,” he rasped through labored breaths.

Gilbert’s hand tightened over the armor. “That I do, my friend,” he replied. For years, Gilbert relied on Hugh’s battle savvy tactics when taking to the field. Most times it the outcomes were successful, leaving he and his men relatively unscathed. Hugh was a natural when it came to tactics, and Gilbert could honestly say he had learned quite a bit from him over the years.

“M-my… lord…?”

Hugh’s eyes closed tightly as he struggled to speak. Death was stalking him, and surely wouldn’t be long in arriving. “What is it?”

“Will… Mari…”

Gilbert sighed heavily. Moving his hand from Hugh’s shoulder, he took his friend’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Your children will be safe,” he promised without hesitation.

“T-take them?”

Hugh’s eyes opened, finding his, but Gilbert didn't miss the clouds now present. “God and King Henry approving,” he replied, “I will make them my wards. Your lands, your children, your legacy. They will live on. Fear not on that account, my friend.”

Hugh struggled to inhale, what air he could take in rattled alarmingly. His lips moved as he struggled to speak, mostly likely his final words… but nothing save one long, drawn out, exhale of breath escaped.

Gilbert remained as he was for a long, expectant moment, but when Hugh’s chest no longer rose and fell, he understood. “God go with you, my friend,” he murmured, gently settling Hugh’s hand over his chest, the hilt of his sword loosely in his grasp. Rest in peace, my friend, and watch over us who remain.

Pushing himself to his feet, Gilbert searched around the area for Roger. He stood nearby, out of the way of those gathered around Hugh. Nodding to the lad to gain his attention, he walked over to join him. “Help with the arrangements for Sir Hugh's body to be returned to my estates,” he said. Searching the area again, he asked, “Where is my horse?”

“This way, my lord,” Roger replied, guiding him down to the left and in the direction from which they’d come. “My lord…?”

Finding his steed, Gilbert accepted the reins and pulled himself up into the saddle with assistance. Several others, mostly of his retinue of bodyguards headed to assist with Hugh formed up nearby. “I will meet you there, Roger. I have a stop to make on the way home.”

In this instance, the only thing I knew about Gilbert when I started writing was that he is Robert of Loxley's father and that he and Hugh FitzWalter were good friends. Also, that Hugh was one of his knights. For Hugh, I knew even less. Eye color is the only thing that I really got for him - and still have, for that matter, all these years later. However, seeing as Hugh doesn't survive, I felt comfortable enough to at least draft out this chapter.

But, like I said, every story, every character is different. Ideas can be triggered by a picture, a song, a word, a certain piece of food, a scent, a part of a dream - it really doesn't take much with my muses! lol

#100daysofwriting #ladya writes #Robyn's Hoode #original fic #character development #I do whatever works for me basically #and that changes all the time

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elenathehun · 4 years

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Watching the Clone Wars, part 6

Congratulations, everyone! This past week we reached the rare episode I physically could not complete, and we actually just skipped it and moved on to the next episode. So with that said, click keep reading to see reviews of "Bounty Hunters", the Zillo Beast arc, "Senate Spy", and the first three episodes of the Geonosis arc:

"Bounty Hunters" (2x17)

So, I love how the episode starts out with Anakin and Obi-Wan (both of them important military figures with thousands - perhaps tens of thousands - of soldiers under their command) going off to investigate the disappearance of a medical station full of injured clones. Spoiler alert, the episode never really clears up the mystery - or rather, it briefly implies all those injured clones are dead before getting on to the real story at hand, a... redux of Seven Samurai! I have to admit, I found this a bit repetitive at first, but that's mostly because I recently watched The Mandalorian's Seven Samurai redux. I love remixes of the Kurosawa classic, but twice in a month is a little much.

Anyway, once you forget about the clones as the writers so clearly want you to, the episode isn't bad. Felucia is just really pretty, and the story itself is executed passably well. Obi-Wan is starting to show the cracks, by the way - his reference to defending people who won't defend themselves is...telling. Anyway, the bounty hunters are so anodyne that I forgot their names almost immediately after viewing the episode. Hondo was, as always, a ridiculous villain. That's all for the good, honestly, because thus far TCW is not very good when it's trying to tell serious stories. The story is neatly wrapped up with Hondo cutting his losses, and Obi-Wan and his children catch a ride off Felucia with the bounty hunters.

Lastly, can I say how disappointed I am that no one in fandom has seen fit to write Obi-Wan Kenobi/Sugi FWB? C'mon guys, that feels like a slam-dunk right there!

"The Zillo Beast" (2x18)

It's a Godzilla homage, or maybe King Kong? Either way, it's a Palpatine and Anakin episode, and like all Palpatine and Anakin episodes it mostly serves the purpose of:

a) showing how horribly evil Palpatine is

b) how little power the Jedi have to counter his goals

c) Anakin is falling to the Dark Side and it's scary

a) and b) are both reasonably good storytelling goals, but I wish they were integrated more cohesively into the plot. Like Cade Bane and the holocron arc, limiting these stories to little episodic islands is a bit amateur for the writing team. Personally, I feel like c) is a lost cause, but that's basically the fault of George Lucas's bad pacing issues. Dude had Anakin cross his moral event horizon less than halfway through the Prequel trilogy, and nothing anyone has tried has been able to salvage the character.

"The Zillo Beast Returns" (2x19)

And the inevitable follow-up to Palpatine's decisions. To be honest, the writers hewed a little too closely to the plot of Godzilla/King Kong/Jurassic Park - I found this episode to be very depressing due to the tragic death of the Zillo Beast, which is, after all, just an innocent animal being tormented for Evil Science.

"Senate Spy" (2x04)

And this right here was the first episode we went ahead and skipped! That's right, I finally found an episode so awful I couldn't bear to watch it even as background noise. Anidala-focused? Check! Anakin being a teenage boy jealous of his girl's prior hookups? *barf* Check! The Jedi conducting an intelligence mission on a Senator of "the Banking Clans", using another Senator as an operative? Oh Lordy, check! Padme, a Senator of the Republic, going to Cato Neimodia, to observe another Senator leads negotiations with the Trade Federation, a group the Republic is currently at war with? Furthermore, a group that hates Padme's guts for her successful expulsion of their invasion from her planet ten years before???

Fuck my life, CHECK. My friends graciously assented to us moving on the next episode, because I just could not take this mess.

"Landing at Point Rain" (2x05)

I call this the "saving private ryan episode", and I think that fits. I don't necessarily think there's anything terrible about the episode - it's all pretty much action, start to finish - but it's not really excellent either, if that makes sense. Mostly I just like looking at the nose art and different clone trooper armor styles in this episode. Also amazed that we have a scene of the GAR literally flame-throwing the native species of the planet, because as we all know, that's totally suitable for a kids' show.

"Weapons Factory" (2x06)

And it's time for another Luminara episode!!!! Guys, I love her, even though I don't feel she's used very well in this episode. Also the first introduction of Barriss, who I also love. This was actually a really great Ahsoka episode, at least in my opinion, and I don't think we've seen too many of those so far. The mission is one that actually makes sense (I mean, for a certain value of sense, anyway) for two Padawans to be on, and it's good to see Ahsoka interact with someone on the same level as her. Anakin's story... again, i just feel like they're shoe-horning in his Inevitable Fall to the Dark Side at every possible instant, which means that Luminara has to serve as an Moral Lesson, which means that she acts sort of weird from a character perspective in order to provide a foil to Anakin's behavior. It lacks verisimilitude.

"Legacy of Terror" (2x07)

And it's time for the zombie episode! I am not fond of horror as a genre, so my eye is untutored, but I think this episode was actually reasonably good? Luminara's characterization reverts to a more naturalistic course since the story take precedence over the thematic message in this episode. We also get to see Obi-Wan Kenobi, the most annoying fucking friend/older brother in the galaxy. The little defeated sigh Anakin releases before stating "I think the nose" just says multitudes about their relationship over the years.

And that's it for this batch of episodes. I'll be back in a day or two to complete my viewing of the final episode of the Geonosis arc, a few one-off episodes, and then the TCW arc that actually made me quit watching the series the first time around.

#watching the clone wars #star wars #star wars tcw #television is hypnotoad

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, MAI! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF ABADDON.

Admin Cas: Where to begin with this firecracker of an app, Mai? Abaddon is full of complexities, but that didn’t pose a problem for you: you captured every single one of them to perfection. The way you described how she clung to her divinity in Hell, even as she felt it rotting inside of her, was truly *chef’s kiss*. There was so much to admire about your application — the clear development you have planned for Abaddon, the way you expanded on her relationship to her pseudo-family of demons without diminishing any other part of her, the balance of her divinity and her profanity — but I think the standout for me were your writing samples. She’s so level-headed, so elegant, and I’m completely in love with her and this whole application. I’m so excited to see what you do with her! Your faceclaim change to Nazanin Boniadi has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | mai.

Age | twenty-four.

Personal Pronouns | she/her.

Activity Level | 6/10. i work and am in grad school full time, so my activity varies depending on my workload for the week, with end of fiscal quarter and midterms/ finals being the busiest, though i try to post a reply every 2-3 days. i’m pretty much always on my phone though, so i respond to messages quickly!

Timezone | est.

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group? | rosey!

Current/Past RP Accounts | kenna

IN CHARACTER

CHARACTER | abaddon. & i would like to change her fc to nazanin boniadi!

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? |

my libra ass saw the light/ dark conflict and said BET. but actually — i’ve always been obsessed with the concept of DUALITY and the fragility of the line that exists between two extremes (a line that is very much jagged, drawn with shaky hands into the sand; too easily, too inevitably erased by the violence of the tides). this quote i especially love:

“the distinction between holy & heresy was always

a question of fire: the distinction between whore & saint lies

in who’s burned for it — the distinction between martyr & false

god lies in whose testimony is set ablaze”

with abaddon, there is the obvious light and dark conflict: the war between her angel and demon sides. but there are also more subtle dualities: her roles as a mother and jailer (and even within this, guard and executioner); her loyalty to God and affection for the great betrayer; the righteousness she brandished against raphael yet acceptance of soul’s damnation. she’s a mess of contradictions, a wildfire contained in a matchstick; a rose flooded with blood.

abaddon’s biography also reminded me of a conversation i had with rosey. i asked how she chooses her characters, and rosey said it was easy: she likes to take characters that live behind the curtain and polish them until they shine. this was a revelation for me, as most of my characters are larger than life: with the precision and heat of a single beam of light or the ferocity and tragedy of a monster who eats their own heart. always in the forefront. it was why abaddon captured my attention. not because she is a background character, but because she chooses to be. she is the maternal figure; the one who quietly deigns to pass judgement with nothing more than a cool flash of her eyes. at least, outwardly. i view her as the margaery tyrell type — subtly calculating, biding her time and moving pieces behind the scenes when no one’s watching. tugging strings gently.

doubtless, she carries love in her heart. love and tenderness — and she wields them like a finely crafted weapon. (gotta love that #range). it is very much an exchange, though the vulnerability comes from a real place. as does the manipulation.

PLOT IDEAS

THE SELF.

i like to call myself wound

but i will answer to knife.

keeper of the black cells | many millennia spent in hell and still shining gold. bloodstained gold, perhaps. but gold nonetheless. and how did she do it? i struggle not to sigh as i type, she followed god. but really, that’s the answer. because even as she rose within the ranks of the demons; even as hell easily latched onto her soul, a beast with all claws and no shape, a beast that looked like her; that tried to eat its way out from the inside, abaddon clung to her divinity. she accepted the punishment given to her; she became her own executioner. and within the abyss then the black cells, even as she is able to walk through without chains, abaddon is the oldest prisoner of them all. because even as she doles out torture with nothing more than indifferent press of her lips, she allows herself to feel. there is the guilt, resting upon the rust of the chains that tear apart limb. there is the recoil, the violent churn of her stomach as blood mingles with air until her vision is spilt wine. and then there is the pain — her own pain — as if it is her flesh she is slicing apart. as if it is her joints being separated from limb.

but as with everything for abaddon, there is a duality. for as much as she is a prisoner, she is a KING. she owns the black cells. she’s its keeper; its protector. its mother. the black cells are her territory, and i think it is very much on purpose. i think abaddon gives out punishments as often as she gives out scraps of tenderness. it is she who paints the darkness, but it is also she who gives light, with the knowledge that a man dying from thirst will close his eyes in reverence as a single drop of water lands upon his tongue. the prisoners bend to the sound of her steps prowling the stone halls, equal parts devotion and fear within their black hearts (hearts that they are all too willing to carve out of their chests at her will). i love entertaining the idea of abaddon using the cells for her own purposes, whether it is seeking out information to stay in the loop with what is happening in every corner of the land, to an insurance policy, if anyone were to catch her ire (looking at you, judas).

dmitri | her heart is half darkened, half rotten. yet whenever her gaze meets with his, the drumming in her pulse turns to something tidal. and in the waves: potential. i think dmitri is the key to the reconciliation between the two opposing sides of abaddon. after all, they are a creature wrought from calamity, yet they still shine molten gold, and she can’t help the comfort and exhilaration she feels in their presence, as if discovering her reflection for the first time, awed by the glory yet frightened by the carnage.

maybe, in another world, this could have been a love story. but it’s not. more likely, i see the potential for abaddon dragging dmitri further into the darkness — judas has plans for them, after all, and abaddon’s loyalty rests with her makeshift family. (but that begs the question: is she then choosing to damn herself along with him? is she choosing to forsake the light within her — the balance within her — for the only love she has ever known? for family? and is that not another sort of light? a different sort of divinity?)

THE DEMONS.

“you can turn around in the dark,

with the man who wants your heart looming so big,

so big over you, and you can give it to him,

so bright and red and pure that it destroys him.”

the mother | i think it is very possible that the demons seek out abaddon before judas or damien. she is more gentle, more kind, more approachable. and less likely to slit their throats in one move (though let’s hope they remember to guard their hearts, too). and for her part, abaddon plays into this image. she listens to their concerns, often abstaining from comment; but there is something to be said for the steadfast gaze in which she regards them, the way the smoke clears from their lungs as she fixes them with her serene, though cool, eyes. it’s not love. but there’s a tenderness all the same, a mother’s sweetness; honey given to an ailing child — even if the honey is dripping off a knife. even if the mother has her own plans.

judas |

it’s something like a waltz.

loyalty to the great betrayer. the irony is not at all lost on her.

he had been there, when she fell. and some days, she wonders if he had not been waiting, for how quickly she had taken to him, even when their companionship felt too much like holding onto a switchblade that cuts before it opens — but this, she reasons, is different sort of knife; terrible and beautiful and coated with poison at the hilt. abaddon is, after all, too accustomed to the spill of her own blood; to the moments when she stitched herself back together with nothing more than the fevered faith of a child looking up at the moon every night, even when its face is turned away in indifference — maybe especially then.

let him cut me then, she reasons, as she walks with judas hand-in-hand through the cells. let him try. i will give him tenderness; i will give him devotion. i will be the lamb at his altar, all delicate flesh and wide eyes. and i will wound as i am wounded; twist PRAYER into PREY.

the child waits. the moon blooms blood red.

many thoughts… head full. at first glance, one might be tempted to label abaddon as the antithesis to judas. he betrayed god. she clings to her devotion. he destroys. she nurtures. he is the snake within the tall grasses. and abaddon? nowhere to be found (and maybe that’s because she is the grass — ever present and plainly within sight, swaying to the wind, both everywhere and nowhere at once; a place of sanctuary until it becomes the unfurled curtain). i would argue, however, that they’re more alike than you might think.

when she had first been hurled into hell, she’d grieved. she’d fallen, and the faces that stared back at her wore smiles that she couldn’t discern from snarls, lips pulled back and teeth gleaming white against the shadows that clung to their frames (the same shadows she would come to wear like glorified battle scars). yet, for as far as she had fallen, ABADDON WOULD ASCEND. and judas played no small part. of course, she had known exactly who he was. still, she followed him, pulled towards him with the same inevitability as an apple to a bruise. from judas, she learned to tear apart skin with a tongue sharper than teeth. and then later on, that she didn’t need to open her mouth at all, for what weapon is more powerful than the hands that bear the skin?

but he is still judas; there’s no division between where his name ends and his person begins — something abaddon has never forgotten. and as much as she learned from him, she kept her eyes wide open, just as she had when watching raphael’s ease in cruelty. and this, i think, is where abaddon sets herself apart — why it is she who is considered judas’s equal and confidant. she sees and understands exactly who he is, what he is. still, she stands beside him. (she would not kiss the ring, as so many had before her. abaddon, instead, kisses the flesh beneath.) still, she extends to him her tenderness, baring the delicate skin of her throat for him to kiss. for him to slit. it’s almost like a game — a balancing act, as everything in her life is, turning herself into a sacrifice filled with poison. and if he were to bite? (to betray her, as is etched into his nature?) he would find that it is a poison of his own making.

personally, i find the idea of judas getting betrayed by the one being he considers his confidant very sexy. the most obvious way is if he questions her loyalties and throws her into her own black cells (as mentioned in the judas app) — in which case, he has a wicked surprise coming his way. the second, more likely way, is if he harms damien or azazel (though damien is more likely). abaddon holds their makeshift family very close to her heart, for they had been the ones who made hell feel like home for her. but family doesn’t mean stability, and abaddon has long accepted the possibility of a conflict between judas and damien. i don’t even think it’s a matter of loving damien and azazel more than judas. it’s not the betrayal of the person; it’s the betrayal of their family. it’s the betrayal of her last whisper of hope for some semblance of peace and happiness within the punishment she has accepted for herself. and for that, he will not be forgiven.

THE ANGELS.

“who am I? […] a monster among angels or angel among monsters,”

raphael | i think it’s funny that the raphael app casted him as cersei, because from the beginning i described abaddon as margaery (though i also have not watched game of thrones, so we may both be bobo the clown on this part). raphael and abaddon’s dynamic really does make me a clown, though, if not bobo. for as much as they are antagonistic to each other, circling each other like hawks, elegant and watchful, they are foils. raphael is the healer; abaddon is the punisher. yet it is he who revels in pain and she who recoils. it was he who god favored, sending the ill-fated angel with the justice to strike at him into the depths of hell. yet it was she who mourned the loss of their creator; she who desperately clung to the shreds of her divinity, of Him, while raphael sat back and watched mutiny unfold.

but they are also similar. because it is in perfect synchronization that circle each other, as if guided by an invisible hymn for which no words exist. they are both patient — too patient, with their clever little machinations while watching the other players make their moves. poised to strike. lightning in a bottle. so what if we were to smash that bottle?

arael | it would be too easy, to use arael as a pawn. the angel does nothing to hide the pain and desperation in her eyes as she drags another being to the cells, and even if she looks away (she doesn’t), abaddon can hear the rage that thunders in her throat as she tells her to keep going. and of course, she does. and of course, the idea artfully arranges itself on the slight arch of her brow: how natural it would feel, to create leverage. to plant false information, use arael’s wrath for her purposes? and it would be no one’s fault but her own, for letting rage blind her to the monster in front of her. yet, as quickly as the seed plants itself, the ground dries up at its feet, barren of any notion of willingness, and abaddon isn’t stomach carving arael into a weapon, as she does with her own prisoners. even as the grief melded bars that encase the angel are thicker than any within the cells.

why? because she’s soft!! abaddon knows vulnerability well; so used is she to wielding it like a weapon. she knows the dance, the game, the exchange. yet arael had shown vulnerability without abaddon giving any at all. TO BE SEEN ALLOWS YOU TO BE HUNTED and arael had exposed herself without asking for anything in return. so as much as it is easy; as much as the possibly calls to the darkness within her heart like siren’s song, the other part, the part that loves, that understands, simply can’t get herself to manipulate arael.

overall | i’m interested to see how abaddon interactions with all the angels, honestly. i think she definitely feels a spark of anger whenever she sees them, for their betrayal of god, and it’s ironic how the being that mourns Him most is the one He casted out of His domain. and i’m hoping that the angels try to use her as a pawn. she is, after all, within the hearts of judas and the anti-christ. and within her own heart: light. wouldn’t it be all too easy, then, to try to get her on their side? to coax information from her under the guise of her first family?

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE KILLING OFF YOUR CHARACTER? | yes.

DRIVING MOTIVATION

peace. stillness. she never thought she’d find it, after her descent from heaven, and she’d spent most of her days yearning for it, using the little light she had left inside of her like a candle against the darkness of hell, never recoiling from the pain as the wax melted and burned her flesh, for she deserved it — had god not decreed it so? yet somewhere along the line she’d found family. precarious, fickle family. but one she cherished all the same. it was in the companionship of judas, the intensity of damien, and the bright glow of azazel had she found a love she had never know within the ranks of the angels, even as she had called them her brethren while their creator looked down upon them with the cool judgement of a father. within the ferocity of the demons, she had found love. and i think that’s what abaddon would claim her driving motivation to be.

i think it’s cute. fanciful. but no.

i suppose it could be called love. or peace. but more precisely, it is labeled as CONTROL. she had sliced raphael down with her own definition of justice, despite the consequences she had known would be enacted upon her. i do think some part of it is rooted in morality and what she thinks is right and wrong, but morality only serves as the thin veneer for the control of the world around her and the sight before her eyes.

when god had punished her, it was with acceptance that abaddon had descended, giving up control for her creator, as she views His will above her own, trusting in His judgement and the notion of balance. but had she not wrestled back that same control, as soon as her wings touched hell? had she not gripped onto the light within her, the divinity within her, with claws sprouted from her determination? she had refused to give up her agency, her identity, even as hell tried to chew her up and dismantle her heart brick by brick with all its rotten teeth. even the black cells serve as a mechanism for control — abaddon is its sole ruler, and it is with her will that punishments and tortures are enacted. even when it’s upon herself.

so my long haul pitch is this: TAKE IT AWAY. threaten her sense of control. abaddon is too content watching behind the curtain, moving chess pieces discreetly, balancing power and molding it into her definition of peace. while that is a very fun and sexy time, i would love for her to be forced into the light she cherishes so much. to make big, impactful moves. to rise into her full power and call in the favors she gift wraps as tenderness. i want her to be driven to choose, to forsake balance. TO SMASH THE SCALES ALTOGETHER.

CHARACTER TRAITS

(+) empathetic, diplomatic, loyal

(-) indulgent, obsessive, manipulative

I /

She searches for Him.

In the folds of dawn. In the hallowed darkness.

For years she wanders during the brief moments of respite; in the space between silences while the world is made anew, taking every chance she can to escape the gazes that dance over her form, tenderness and devotion briefly landing upon her before they flit away to the other demons within her family. And for once, she wishes they would overlook her altogether — such is her desperation to find Him. Such is the love and loss that seizes what remains of her soul, grief so acute that she wonders how the others haven’t heard its echoes within the empty chambers of her heart.

She will find Him.

And she will hold Him within her arms, bestowing upon Him the divinity and light she has so stubbornly held onto. (The traitorous, infested part of her heart can’t help but grin at the thought; Heavenly Father casted down from his throne, just as he had done to her. Spat from above with all the care of a rotten seed of faith.)

He will not ask for forgiveness, but She will give it anyway.

II /

How many years has it taken for violence to become sweet? Once metallic and revolting, now familiar, comforting; like a poem known by heart, and Abaddon gives herself a moment to savor the taste, swirling it in her mouth before she knows is the time to spit it back out, lest it transform into an addiction of her own making (sometimes she wonders if it hasn’t already). Such is the price of balance.

But the moment is interrupted, her back slammed against vibrant cobblestone, ridges pressing onto tender flesh (this, too, does not hurt as much as it thrills — as much as it comforts).

“You were gone.” Level. Casual. Elegant, even, and her lips curve upwards as she meets the gaze of Judas, though elegance gives way to a quiet sort of rage lined within his dark eyes. It’s a warning as much as it is a privilege, his rare show of genuine emotion.

“I was.” She waits, and she can feel the wearing of his patience.

“Where?” A demand decorated in politeness, ever the gentleman.

It only takes a moment’s shifting of expression; her subtle mocking of his empty decorum shifting into a confirmation of his suspicion that there is a detection in movement, Judas’s arm moving to unsheath a dagger and hold it to the base of her throat. Warmth trickles from where divine metal meets skin, but she doesn’t move away. For a moment Abaddon simply closes her eyes, wondering how it would feel to be enveloped in such warmth — even if it tastes too much like self-destruction.

It is at the same time that she opens her eyes does her head tilt towards the dagger, lips ever so gently caressing its blade and coming away stained pomegranate. A tender kiss, not unlike any of his own.

And she smiles before she moves, a lightning strike to match his own, wrenching the dagger from her confidant’s hand and plunging into her chest without so much as a wince of pain, her gaze never leaving his.

“Do you doubt my loyalty, dear Judas?”

He doesn’t answer, and she merely listens to the echoes of his retreating steps.

#accepted #accepted: abaddon

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hcpefulmarshmallow · 4 years

Text

Time for some long, unnecessary Meta. I’ve had this one in my brain for ages, but I haven’t really had an excuse to talk about it until recently. Identity isn’t a major theme in Nagito’s character (although it plays it’s part), and so, I’ve been putting this one off. Then, my good pal Ashi had to go be a literary genius and incorporate some really interesting things into their Gundham, and now I have all the excuse I need. So I’m going to be talking about him, too, to a marginally lesser extent, using aspects of the Best Gunny’s characterisation. (Seriously though, plug. I’m not even sure it’s possible to follow this blog and not know about Ashi’s Gundham, but on the off chance: @the-taboo-king.)

Under a cut for length, philosophy, and shameless, shameless Roulette.

This is the part where I say something that makes the reader’s eyes glaze over, but indulge me. No Exit is a 1944 existentialist French play by Jean-Paul Sartre. It’s about three people - Garcin, Inez and Estelle - who are all doomed to hell, except hell is just an ordinary room, and it’s really, really good. I’d highly recommend.

The characters spend much of the start of the play sitting around, waiting for Satan to show up with the hot pokers and the lube, but once the three of them are gathered in this room, nothing happens. All they can do is sit there, get to know one another, and watch the people they left behind on Earth live out the rest of their lives and move on. There’s nothing there except three chairs; nothing else for them to do. It’s explicitly mentioned that hell has no mirrors, so for instance, when Estelle wants to fix her makeup, she has to rely on Inez to tell her if it looks alright or not. The trouble is, Inez is really attracted to Estelle, so Estelle has no way of knowing if Inez is telling her the objective truth or not. Furthermore, Estelle is kind of grossed out at the thought of another woman being attracted to her, so she starts flirting with Garcin. Not because she’s especially interested in him, per se, but he is the only man there, and Estelle thrives on male attention.

Garcin doesn’t seem to want much to do with either Inez or Estelle at first, preferring to focus on watching his wife try and cope with the terrible reputation he left behind. However, eventually she, and everyone who knew him, dies or moves on. It becomes like he never existed, as it does for them all.

Garcin accepts Estelle’s advances, but it’s not her attention he wants. It’s Inez’s. She’s furious, jealous, and ready to throw some hands. Inez’s fixation remains on Estelle; Estelle’s on Garcin; and Garcin’s on Inez. Things become vicious between the three, until, at last, the door to hell opens. Garcin has the chance to leave, but he doesn’t.

The play is especially famous for the line “Hell is other people”, and directly opposes the old adage, “I think, therefore I am”. It posits that humans exist because we are seen, and therefore if we are unseen, we do not exist. At this point, Garcin has become dependent on his feud with Inez. He might be forgotten in the world, but as long as she hates him, there’s a him to hate. The absence of mirrors removes the characters’ abilities to reflect on themselves, so they can only experience themselves through one another. In that sense, their purpose here isn’t solely to be punished, but to punish one another for all eternity.

So, what does this have to do with Dangit Roomba 2, the game where everything’s made up and the deaths don’t matter? Like I said, this play has been in the back of my mind for a while when it comes to writing Komaeda, but it hasn’t been explicit enough for me to justify writing oodles about until recently. So before we talk about Nagito, let’s talk about the man, the myth, the hamster dad himself.

Identity is a major theme for Gundham. He cultivates his own very, very carefully, only breaking character here and there either to adjust himself (and comment on a “good line”), or when he’s flustered and his composure slips just a little bit. Given how much effort he puts into his words and appearance, you’d be probably correct in assuming he wants to be seen a certain way. He appears to thrive off the fear and intimidation he inspires, yet despite demanding “silence and solitude”, he seems to crave companionship, and find it best in those who can easily reconcile his demonic persona with the kind, nurturing person he is underneath, as opposed to people who try and see directly through it. He needs that persona, you see. He can’t cope with it being stripped away. I’ve spoken about Gundham’s tendency to play the bad guy even when he is, objectively, the hero, before, so I won’t belabor the point too much. But what I’m driving at here is, who he is, and how he’s seen, are too intricately linked to be separated.

If you recall, the door to hell opens and Garcin has the chance to leave, but he doesn’t.

I can think of no better example than the ideas in No Exit, and the intricacies of Gundham’s character, falling into place better than Ashi’s future verse. Which is really, really good, and a masterful take on the philosophy of identity. When Gundham shatters the mirrors and covers the reflective surfaces in his living space, he is effectively robbing himself of the ability to see himself. He’s forced into the vulnerable position of his identity being placed in the hands of others. With no way to reflect on himself - literally and symbolically - he has to take what others say to him as is. Rely on other people to cultivate his appearance and judge what he can no longer see, and therefore, alter. Coupled with his persistent, subsequent self-aggrandizing and deprecation, and he’s submitting himself to the torment of being made into the villain of this story, no matter what he does from hereon out.

You see, the world isn’t in despair anymore. He’s been given a second chance. The door to hell is open, and Gundham has the chance to leave, but he doesn’t.

Like Garcin, he becomes reliant on the fight. The constant struggle against people who will see him in the worst light possible, no matter what he does. But unlike Garcin, Inez, Estelle, or even Nagito - and we will get to Nagito - he isn’t forced into this state, for survival or for punishment. At least, not by a third party. He’s condemning himself. He’s robbing himself of the ability to improve, or to see himself improve. He doesn’t think he deserves to. He relies on others to validate who he is, because others have always let him down. Always seen him as the villain. The weird kid. The one not worth including. He’s waiting to be told, “Actually, you’re a bad person and I don’t want to be near you”. He’s waiting to be abandoned and left alone because, when there’s no one left to see him, he will, effectively, no longer exist. He’s given up on a meaningful, extraordinary death, opting to instead languish in the depths of oblivion. For someone who has grappled for years to forge an identity he can live with (again, that other meta I did on him a while back), this. This is hell.

Now that I’ve outed myself as a secret Gundham Tanaka stan blog, let’s talk about his boyfriend. Identity is less a key theme for Nagito, and more a background element to his character. So it hasn’t been something I could justify a thousand-odd words on so far. But now I have an excuse, I’m going to talk about the single most underrated ship in all of Dimple Raddish. Like I usually do. Look, there’s been a semi-recent semi-surge on popularity for Roulette in the fandom, just let me ride it out, okay? As someone who doesn’t shut up about these two, I have no idea how much of it I’m responsible for, but I am arrogant enough to take more credit than is due, so. You’re welcome, fandom.

For all the things Nagito is awkward and dumb at dealing with (see: All The Things), helping Gundham cope post-tragedy is one thing he does pretty effortlessly. Because what Gundham needs is what Nagito has in perpetuity: relentless, unyielding love. The only way Gundham will ever face himself again, is if he’s forced to believe there’s something worth facing. There is an opportunity in seeing himself as others do. He can see the good things he’s never let himself acknowledge before.

Now’s as good a time as any to say: this is not a healthy way to be. And I’m not trying to imply that the love of the right person can cure years of trauma and abuse. But you know what can help? Being treated with some basic decency and respect. And heck, even love. Gundham is not a role model, and Nagito, less so. He’s a morally ambiguous, deeply damaged young man. He can’t really be fixed. But he can be given the support he needs to heal.

This is the inevitable part in all my long metas where I lament that Nagito’s childhood was loveless, and robbed him of the ability the feel any kind of self-worth. That he’s rendered incapable of recognizing his own needs much less putting them first, as a result of them never being met. That he’s a good person who deserves a good life, and despite having been through insurmountable hell, it’s a wonder he came out the other side so, very capable of selflessness. And that it’s tragic his biggest wish in life is to just know how to feels to be loved in any way by anyone, just to have the most basic, fundamental human experience. F in chat.

Nagito has interests, and hobbies. He...reads, sometimes. He likes dogs. His luck ruins everything. But when he isn’t encouraging others to chase that One True Hope, what is he actually doing? What would he be doing if he never attended Hope’s Peak? Given how many times he’s been treated like a burden, can he ever truly feel like he’s worth something to anybody?

There’s a sense of static around him, I feel. Like when the video quality suddenly drops, and it takes you a moment to realise. Who is he, exactly? The answer is simple and sad: whoever he’s told to be. He’s spent his life being treated like his feelings are a burden and he’s useless trash, therefore he is burdensome trash. In class he is often ignored and ridiculed, so he largely keeps to himself during group activities, and whenever he says something out loud, he often scolds himself for it before anyone else can. You know, that whole, “Haha sorry, that was a bit much, guess I’m just trash” thing he does. He has to be this way. For his own survival, for whatever sanity he has left. It’s easier to be treated like garbage if you believe you deserve it.

It’s normal for people to be different around different people. But I find that to be especially true with Nagito as I play him through different relationships with different people. The more he is with Gundham, the more his nurturing, animal-loving side comes out. The more he is with Celeste, the more we see his intelligent, competitive, gentlemanly side. With Sonia, his ability to be princely and adventurous; with Chiaki, his gentle and relaxed nature, with Yuuki, or the WoH, or literally any child under his care, we experience a strong paternal side to him. He is by no means a different person, but different aspects of his personality are given more dominance over him as a whole, based on what somebody sees in him. He’s very capable of stepping up, but only when he feels someone expects him to. Otherwise he’s content to sit on his hands and watch, because he doesn’t think he deserves anything better.

Nagito will not see these things, or anything especially good, in himself until he is given permission. Until he is made to feel, by an authority higher than himself, that it’s okay. He exists as others see him. If someone he looks up to, whose opinions he values, recognises the - for lack of a better term - hope in him, he will eventually be forced to accept that it’s there himself. He might even. You know. Develop enough self-respect one day to forge a more self-actualised identity. Have the audacity to want things, and have dreams and stuff. He might even follow them. It’s a long, tiresome, non-linear process; but a worthwhile undertaking if I say so myself.

I guess the tl;dr here is that: both boys validate themselves through the eyes of other people because it’s the only way they know how. It’s not a good or healthy thing to do, but with the right kind of support, and enough time and patience, maybe next time the door to hell opens, they’ll have the courage to leave.

#( this wasn't as in-depth as i'd have liked #i could have kept going but the word count bro #so imma just leave it like this and hope i've made my point )#meta;#long post;

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wbbbrothers · 5 years

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Dear We Bare Bears,

Hello! I am Sugs. Within the next month, I will be in the start of my college experience as an Illustration major. That fact is completely wild to think about considering when I first started watching this show (on this day four years ago) I was entering High School as a freshman student and I was, in fact, a completely different person. Therefore, I decided that because I am stepping into a whole new chapter of my life and this show has been with me the entire way... this Anniversary I wanted to write about how this show has impacted me over the past four years.

Apologies for this being a long post, I have a lot to say.

I created this blog right at the end of the premiere week of this show. I had watched every new episode airing during that Bearbomb that week. One of the last episodes of the week was Primal. So, while it was still airing and I decided in the middle of it that I was hooked! And I knew I needed to make an ask blog to enjoy these silly bear brother characters and fuel the love I had already already found for the show somehow. Wbbbrothers was that ask blog.

I didn’t know at the time but that was possibly one of the best decisions I could have ever made for myself at that point in my life and do mean that very sincerely. Growing up, having intense interest in media that took over my entire creative output was always a very common thing (and obviously still is). These large phases were able to keep my full attention about 1-2 years tops until my brain latched onto something new. But, out of all of those I have to say that We Bare Bears and Bears in general truly are very special to me. I have never been able to create such a variety of stories, embrace so many flawed and imperfect yet still loved characters and feel so deeply about them and the stories I was telling through them. Especially for this long of a time. We Bare Bears as a show holds a great deal of heartfelt comfort for me.

To me: We Bare Bears is a unique show in the fact that (most of the time) it has a very casual, down to earth and calming atmosphere about it. That being said, it is never afraid to experiment or step foot into other genres thanks to its open ended and episodic nature. It is not perfect by any means, like any cartoon written by human beings with flaws. But I admire the love that gets put into it with its personalized watercolored backgrounds, muted palette aesthetics, little visual humor and amazing colorists in general. It can be hit or miss sometimes but it is episodes like Chicken & Waffles, Chloe & Ice Bear, Occupy Bears, Yuri & The Bear, Hibernation, Hurricane Hal and more that remind me why I fell in love with the show in the first place. It loves the quiet moments just as much as I do. It does not have to be constantly shoving stimulation down your throat and in your face in order to tell a fun or compelling story. I have always respected its ability to take things at a slower pace sometimes, especially when a lot of current cartoons tend to lean towards Snappiness (snappy humor, snappy action, bright colors and fast pacing)

We Bare Bears feels like warmth. When I re-watch my favorite character driven episodes I cannot remove the fond smile from my face and when I re-watch my favorite adventure filled episodes it always sends me bouncing in my seat.

My method with interacting with my interests was always to create my own fan-content or Alternate Universes with the characters that I loved. It was my way of putting a piece of me into the characters whether it be through my other interests in media or my own experiences and feelings. The AUs I make are a genuine form of self-expression to me.

Obviously, the Character Driven and Open Ended Slice of Life nature of We Bare Bears as a series really opened up the flood gates in terms of my creativity and ideas for AUs. I never felt happier than when I was creating new jokes or dialogue or just silly scenarios. Alternate Universes were a combination of all the parts I loved about creating for me and they started to act as my own free-roam stories to explore these favorite characters of mine in all sorts of different ways. Since I have started, my work has only improved the more love and passion I put into it.

Superhero AU and Bad Bears are my main two fan stories/AUs of mine that have been around since I was 14-15 and are two of the most developed AUs I have ever had. They taught me a lot about, developing fictional worlds, characters and plotlines and I am STILL developing and enjoying them even now! They’ve also inspired me to make so many other OCs and stories so much as influencing future projects that I am currently in the middle of developing.

It baffles me to think of a world where I never watched We Bare Bears and never was able to be influenced by its fans, its art, writing and its characters.

If you’ve been on this blog long enough you might recall that my first Wbb AU was your average run of the mill Zombie AU (this was while wbbbrothers was still primarily an ask blog) not to be confused with my Zombie 2 AU which is a completely different premise entirely aside from the zombie apocalypse part. Long story short, I had a Fuckload of AUs back then and I mean A Lot. Enough to get condescending messages over, even some curse outs. (Not everyone I met over the four years was the greatest...) I was scared away from publicly speaking about most of them the way that I used to. While my technical skill was lacking for that age and I could not write a solid scene to save my life, despite the negativity, the intense passion and enjoyment I felt from making content kept me enthralled with the show. I kept making my AUs in private and developing them, posting more general fanart and occasionally art for my Superhero AU publicly. I even started to get pretty good at drawing Bears! And managed to make some friends who shared interests with me, something I never got to have offline.

It was not all great of course, the past four years have been extremely hard for me and extremely hard for everybody else, I’m sure. Bears was my default thought when surviving High School; my go-to pick me up. I seriously would say that it has saved me more than once whether it be through talking to my friends I met because of it or just offering a distraction/creative outlet from whatever was going on in my life.

Prior to becoming a fan I never would have thought I would have been able to make so many stories, projects, art, writing and comics and talk to so many amazing creators and people all thanks to this one show about Socially Awkward Bears living in San Fransisco.

But here we are.

And you know what, even when I inevitably move onto newer projects or interests, I think Bears will always be an important influencer to me. The wonderful people I have met throughout these four years have given me so much support and love and friendship like none I have ever been allowed to experience before. I have learned so much about my identity through my friendships and my stories. And even the awful people I have met taught me what NOT to do and what to avoid when moving forward in my life.

I am just. So, so grateful for everything and being able to pursue what I love and have it be received by others to make them feel things too. There is a Lot more I could say I am sure but since this is long enough as is I will send it off here.

So from the bottom of my heart I can only say Thank you. Thank you to my friends who still talk to me to this day, I love you guys. Thank you to those I used to speak to but don’t anymore, our friendship of the past still stays with me. Thank you to anyone who enjoys my work, my stories and follows me despite my wild ramblings such as this!! (If you’re still reading this wow, points to you)

And Thank you We Bare Bears for helping me grow so much as an artist and giving me a sense of direction and purpose with my work as a hurting teenager who was very, very lost in 2015.

Sincerely yours,

Wbbbrothers <3

#anniversary rant #wbb #modspeaks #SORRY IM A SAP #text heavy #long post

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unsurvivor · 5 years

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Rules

Feel free to focus on bolded sections to skim for the subject of every bullet point. I’m way too wordy, but I just want to be informative. I’m not actually very strict or demanding!

How I Play:

I am semi-private and semi-selective. What this means is that mutuals (meaning people who follow me and I follow back) are free to interact with me IC in asks or by tagging me in posts or by responding to my starters, and they are also free to DM me or send me any kind of ask OOC or tag me in posts they relate to me (so unless there’s some loophole I’m not thinking of, it’s basically ‘anything goes’ with mutuals). Plotting is cool; talking about things other than RP is also probably cool (though I can be a little shy with new people sometimes, forgive me). People who I do not follow back (aka non-mutuals) are still totally free to follow me. They can send in asks about/to my muse either IC or OOC or ask about my thoughts on YTTD-topics, but I am probably uncomfortable speaking OOC in DMs about RP or doing any kind of plotting. Non-mutuals can also send in starter memes, but they would be one-off types of interactions (meaning no growing relationship) and might not be continued very far in a thread. Feel free to message me with questions if this description isn’t making sense to you.

I may not follow back for myriad reasons all regarding my personal preferences (characterization choices, writing style/ability, frustrating blog layout, missing rules/info, etc). Please do not take this personally. If this happens, you are still welcome to initiate interaction with me in any way, IC or OOC! Also, if I do follow back, I definitely want to RP with you!

I will likely unfollow and decline to interact if you have too much OOC drama / anti behavior / fandom hate / bullying / callouts / discourse / politics / worldview on your blog. Huge pet peeves of mine. I repeat, I do not support callout culture.

I am open to the possibility of interacting with duplicates of my muse. I will automatically assume one of them is an AI or doll, but whatever the case, we should probably talk about how to go about this.

I am up-to-date on the game. This blog is not spoiler free. That being said, it might be wise to communicate when in the timeline our muses are interacting.

I have depression as well as performance/social anxiety. My moods and levels of inspiration/motivation vary widely. I know that is inconvenient, sorry! So in general, I don’t push myself to be prolific, and can drop threads or be slow at responding.

I may drop a thread due to general anxiety (not necessarily related to the thread), lack of ideas, or loss of inspiration, my deepest apologies. Don’t feel bad and DO feel free to continue interactions with my muse in the future!

I operate my muse based on what I feel is in his character to do at that moment. Sometimes that makes planning difficult, because he may not respond to a circumstance in a way I anticipated. Sorry if things do not go as planned. But I do also love plotting and overthinking things, hah.

I am willing to play dark scenes including gore/violence, angst, horror, abuse, torture, my character’s death, etc., and there will be disturbing or mature content like that on this blog. I’m new to this fandom, so I’m not exactly sure how much content warning tags are really necessary, considering I presume everybody played this brutal game. However, any content warnings I decide to give will be noted with the tag “cw:” followed by the label.

I am open to the possibility of shipping everybody from high school and up. If you disagree with or object to this decision, please just unfollow/block/move on. I’m too tired.

I choose to write sexual scenes. I reserve the right to portray anything from healthy, fluffy relationships/scenes to dark, toxic, or abusive relationships/scenes. I don’t condone abuse or toxicity in real life. I respect the grave nature of such behaviors, but that will not prevent me from writing said subjects with this understanding of reality in mind. However, I respect those who do not want to see or roleplay sex, will never push said people to do so, and will keep explicit sexual content under a ‘read more’, tagged “smut”. I expect to be treated with similar respect for my choice in written subject matter.

I only roleplay smut with muns who are above the age of consent. I am uncomfortable doing so with underage individuals, so please do not attempt if you are under age 18.

What I Appreciate:

Let me know if something I’m doing in a thread with you is making you uncomfortable. I myself am comfortable with exploring some very dark themes. I will do my part to check your blog rules, and I apologize if I am ever forgetful about anything mentioned.

Please try to refrain from controlling my muse’s thoughts and actions (unless that is actually within the capabilities of your muse; ask me).

Please try to remember to start a new post instead of reblogging an ask post over and over.

I would be so grateful if multimuse blogs could tag the muse they are using in their posts. This helps me filter out the inevitable multitude posts on my dash that will not be relevant to my muse or even fandom and keeps it from becoming absolute chaos. Obviously it’s your blog, and I’m not here to tell you what to do, but this prevention of inconvenience will make me somewhat more likely to follow you.

Please do not steal my original (detailed) headcanons or icons or use images in posts tagged “My Edits” without my permission. If you’re not sure, ask me; I promise I won’t bite for such a question.

What Is Acceptable:

Mutuals always feel free to send me an ask, IM, or communicate in our RP thread if you have something to say or ask. Or if you just have a random comment! Seriously, anything.

Non-mutuals, honestly, if you’re not sure whether or not it is acceptable to interact with me in a certain way, and you try to interact with good or neutral intentions, I’m not going to be hostile or scary. If I’m not interested, I might not respond due to social awkwardness. Know that if this happens, I don’t want you to have hurt feelings; I appreciate your willingness to have wanted to interact with me.

It never hurts to follow me to see if I am interested in following back! At the very least, I am flattered for being considered.

If it seems like I’ve forgotten about a thread or neglected to respond and you really want to continue it, feel free to message me to remind/ask about it.

Let me know if there is something you want tagged, and I will try to accommodate with what I see as reasonable.

I am 100% cool with us engaging in more than one thread at once. Do it!

All starter/ask memes/prompts on my blog are open all the time, no matter how old. Feel free to browse the tag and send in something you like! I would only request that you try to include the title of the post/collection in your ask so I can find it more easily.

I accept some OCs and characters from other fandoms but can be picky about them. It would be nice to be able to find some background info on them on your blog. For characters from other fandoms, I will be much more likely to follow if they have a YTTD verse included in their description, but you can pitch me a different proposition if you have one. Try not to take it personally if it turns out I’m not interested in following.

I am sometimes okay with roleplaying total AUs (as in, a completely different setting), but it is not my default preference. The best way to go about seeing if I’m interested would probably be to message me.

As this is also just a general purpose Sou fan blog, all types of blogs (aside from spam/porn and antis) are free to follow, like my posts, and reblog non-RP-related posts.

Thanks a bunch for slogging through this!

#info #rules #OOC #long post

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patchworkofstars · 6 years

Text

Salted Caramel

Chapter 2: The Fires of Pride and Envy

AO3 Chapter 1

Relationships: Royality, Analogical

Chapter synopsis: Roman discovers something in common with Patton, but his housemate’s emo boyfriend sends his stress levels rocketing.

Word count: 2,364

Warnings: Mentions of food and difficulty eating

Notes: Heartfelt thanks to everyone who left comments on the first chapter 💖 Roman’s reaction here to positive feedback is very much based on my own 💙

Thanks also to @metaphoricalpluto2 @bi-one and @monstercupcake61176 for acting as my random word generator! back on 12th April?? yet I only finished writing this chapter today???

Having briefly returned to give him a glimmer of hope, Roman’s creativity deserted him for the rest of the weekend. By Monday, his desire to escape his desk and writer’s block was so strong it overcame even his fear of looking like a nerd, and for the first time ever he arrived early to the first lecture of the week.

Big mistake, he realised, as he stepped into the lecture theatre only to find Patton already there. He was sitting all alone, reading a book of some sort, and Roman couldn’t help but notice he was wearing the grey cardigan he normally tied around his shoulders. Covering his arms to hide the bruises from the other night, perhaps?

Roman hesitated on the threshold, considering waiting outside until his friends arrived, but before he could make a decision, Patton looked up and saw him. The man’s whole face seemed to light up, and Roman’s heart sank. He couldn’t afford to be seen talking to Patton. Who knew what damage it would do to his reputation if people began to think they might be friends.

Act confident, Roman, he told himself, geeks can smell fear. That’s how they manage to survive.

His limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, but he tried to feign nonchalance as he walked in and took the seat behind Patton, close enough to talk without the danger of them looking too friendly when the other students inevitably arrived.

Patton closed his book, and Roman’s breath caught when he saw the cover. Dragon Witch Chronicles volume 4, The Fires of Pride. He swallowed, nervousness quickening his pulse and making him slightly light headed.

Anything but that series, he thought. It looks well-read, too…

“Are you enjoying your book?” he asked, willing the words to sound casual. “You seemed very engrossed, there.”

Patton laid a hand on the cover and smiled. “It’s my all-time favourite series, he said, affection clear in his voice. “Volume six is coming out next month, so I’m re-reading them all in preparation.”

Roman looked away quickly, avoiding the other man’s eyes. Oh gods, he’s a fan, that means he might have read… He cut off the thought, distracting himself by pulling up his bag to take out his notebook and pen.

But having been given an opening, Patton seized it. “Have you read any of the series?" he asked brightly.

“Uh, yes, as it happens”, Roman admitted, trying to quash his rising panic.

Patton’s eyes shone. “Who’s your favourite character?” he asked, leaning forward eagerly. “Mine’s Prince Namor.” A faint pink blush spread over his cheeks as he looked up through his eyelashes at Roman. “He actually reminds me a lot of you. You’re my hero, you know.”

Roman felt his own face begin to heat up, and swallowed again. “Ah, yes, well, Namor is a fantastic character”, he agreed, a little too loudly. “He’s certainly my favourite of the main cast, but I must confess I’m hoping to see more of Tonapt, the Prince of the Cat People from book five.”

Patton’s smile grew wider. “Yes!” he breathed, clasping his hands together. “I love the Cat People! Their culture is so cool, and-”

He broke off as the sound of chatter from outside heralded the arrival of a group of their coursemates. Roman immediately sat back in his chair, putting as much distance as possible between him and Patton.

Still, he couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye as the smile washed away from Patton’s face like a chalk image in the rain. He scooped the book up and tucked it carefully away in his bag, taking out paper and a pen instead and fixing his eyes on the desk before him.

Roman felt a twist of guilt in his gut and almost, almost leaned forward again to apologise, but then Donny’s voice called “What the hell, Zito? We’ve been looking all over for you!” and suddenly his friends were at his side, dropping their bags and sliding into the seats to his left.

Mike slung an arm loosely around his shoulders, grinning. “How come you’re here so early, Rosie?” he teased. “You turning into a swat like loser-boy there?” He nodded towards Patton, and Roman twisted his mouth into an awkward grin.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, he retorted. “I just mixed up the time and didn’t want to hang around in the corridor like a numpty.”

Somewhere at the back of his mind, the curtain between him and Patton fell once more.

*****

Roman ran up the steps to his flat two at a time, and burst through the doorway into the shared living room with a cry of “Logan, I’m hooome~!”

Then he stopped abruptly, his expression contorting from amicable to sullen in an instant.

Logan nodded in greeting from where he sat on their worn but comfortable sofa. He was all straight lines and sharp angles, his measured movements and careful speech a marked contrast to Roman's loud flamboyance. In his customary black polo shirt and blue striped necktie, he looked more like an accountant than an undergrad, but his short sleeves revealed surprisingly muscular arms, and his glasses couldn't hide the high cheekbones that always made Roman want to-

Well, it didn’t matter what Roman wanted, because beside his handsome housemate sat the reason for his current hostility: Logan’s boyfriend, Virgil Price.

In stark contrast to his companion, he wore ripped jeans and a hoodie, with dark patches of eyeshadow painted beneath each eye in classic emo style. While Logan sat straight-backed on the sofa's seat, Virgil sat on the arm, with his feet, clad in striped purple socks, resting on the free cushion. His knees were drawn up, forearms braced against his thighs, and his hands moved rapidly through a series of gestures as they hovered over his knees.

Roman scowled at the interloper, hot anger and frustration surging upwards through his veins. “What’s he doing here?” he demanded, barely managing to keep the growl from his voice.

“Virgil has had a bad day and is currently non-verbal”, Logan informed him, utterly unfazed by his tone. “I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from causing him further stress, for once. We made vegetable soup earlier, and there’s still some keeping warm if you’d like it.”

Virgil glowered and gestured rapidly at his boyfriend.

“I’m aware of that”, Logan told him aloud, “But it would be churlish not to allow him a share when we made so much. Besides which, it’s important to maintain a courteous attitude when cohabiting with someone.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, and Roman didn’t need to know sign language to understand the hand gesture the emo directed his way. Nevertheless, he moved to the kitchen area and served himself some of the soup waiting there. Logan’s cooking was always satisfying and nutritious, and anything beat preparing food for himself with a view of those two being affectionate in the background.

*****

He took the soup and some crackers to eat in his room, hiding himself away not only from Virgil’s glares but also from the pain of seeing his easy companionship with Logan, the way they were so relaxed and open with each other. It always left a hollow ache in Roman’s chest, making him wistfully wonder, despite himself, how it must feel to have someone they could each be so wholly themselves with.

He shook himself from his reverie and put on a soothing Disney medley. There was no point in dwelling on the impossible. Logan and Virgil could be honest with each other because they were both unpopular and had nothing to lose, and Roman would willingly sacrifice that if it meant he could maintain his image.

He steadied his breathing, letting his eyes drift around the room. Each wall was a patchwork of film posters, from Disney to DreamWorks to Studio Ghibli. His complete set of Dragon Witch Chronicles novels were lovingly displayed in pride of place on his bookshelf, while his textbooks sat in a haphazard pile on the floor beneath.

Letting the music wash over him, he pushed away his lingering melancholy and focused instead on thoughts of his writing as he dragged himself through the chore of eating. There was no pleasure in it, these days, having to force himself to chew and then to swallow every mouthful down past the ever-present knot of tension in his throat. Even the soup was like molten tar in his oesophagus, and solid food went down like lumps of lead. Each flavour was a faint tingling on his tongue that never registered fully in his brain. He may as well have been eating cardboard for all the pleasure it gave him.

With what passed for his meal finished, he pulled his laptop over and opened up a text file. He'd been halfway through writing a complex, multi-chapter piece of fanfiction when his writer’s block had surfaced, and the thought of yet another week going by with no new content posted increased the tension in his head to an almost visible metallic grey cloud. He gazed despairingly at the document on the screen before him. It was, to put it mildly, a raging dumpster fire of a story draft.

Well, fine, he would try writing something else instead. He closed the file and double-clicked the appropriate icon on his desktop, mentally thanking Logan for the prompt-generation software he’d created. Even though he’d been almost unbearably smug about it when he’d installed it for Roman.

Opening the Block Unblocker – Logan wasn’t great at names – he clicked the button to randomly generate three nouns and a fanfiction type, the purpose being to write a story in the given genre containing all the words. Immediately, the software gave him a list.

“Cactus, wood, hat – fluff.” What the heck was he supposed to do with that? He shook his head and clicked the button again.

“France, cucumber, potato - angst.” Something about crying over a meal in a French café, perhaps? But I don’t know anything about France. Forget it, one more try.

“Eggs, jellyfish, toaster - smut.” What the-? No no, not writing that, no way. Not even going to think about that.

Ugh, he couldn’t do it. Yet again, his mind was enveloped in fog, devoid of inspiration. With a resigned sigh, he closed the file and opened his web browser. He might as well see what other people had been writing. Perhaps some light reading would help improve his mood.

He scanned down the list of titles and synopses, a bitter feeling of nausea growing in his stomach. Damn, they all sounded so good. All those writers actually writing, posting, achieving, while he did nothing. He wanted to claw out his heart and tear it to shreds to rid himself of the burning envy that threatened to consume him.

They were such good writers, and he enjoyed their work so much. But every story they gave to the world was a further reminder of his own failure to do the same. He loved them, but he hated the way they made him feel.

I have to do this, I can’t let them defeat me. I can’t let this defeat me.

*****

It was hopeless. His head hurt so much he could barely think, a dull but persistent ache accented every so often by a bolt of agony on the right side of his forehead. The unyielding stiffness of his neck muscles pulling his shoulders towards his chin told him this was a tension headache that painkillers would do nothing to ease. From experience, he knew the only cure would be relaxation, but how could he relax with this pounding in his skull and this bruised feeling in all of his muscles?

Desperation was eating away at his bones, dark dread creeping through his veins. What if he never wrote anything worthwhile ever again? What if he had nothing to post, nothing to offer, and all of his followers left in disgust, realising he wasn’t worthy of their attention after all? That anything he’d written had been a fluke, an accident of luck, and he didn’t deserve their praise?

He almost sobbed, and hit the back of his neck with a fist, trying to force some of the tension from the muscles. But all it did was increase the ache there.

He jumped when his phone pinged, and scrambled to check the notification. An email. An email with a comment about his writing.

It was from a user named CaramelCat, and Roman smiled indulgently. CaramelCat often commented on his work, and their words were always as sweet as their name. Even so, claws of doubt hooked into his heart. What if they were disappointed in the latest chapter? Or complaining about the long delay since he’d updated the story?

His hands were shaking as he opened the message, the adrenalin rushing through him in a wave of excitement and fear. He scanned through it rapidly, hungrily, desperate for it to be positive but terrified it might be negative. Once he had satisfied himself it was safe, he reread it more slowly, relishing each kind word, the positive feedback a balm for his bruised and fragile ego.

He read it over and over, joy bubbling up as giggles, his hands clasping and unclasping, moving up to touch his face every few words. His face was warm – heck, he was warm all over, happiness kickstarting his circulation, making him feel more alive than he had since… since…

Since this morning, chatting with Patton about Dragon Witch Chronicles.

No. Patton was off-limits, and that was all there was to it. They inhabited separate spheres, and Roman wasn't about to sacrifice his popularity for anyone, especially not some overly-bubbly geek.

He took a deep breath, pushed the thought aside, and began rereading the comment yet again. It made him want to sing, to dance, to write. His mind fizzed with the first sparks of a dozen different ideas, all jostling for attention.

Then there was a cry of “Falsehood, Virgil, you are highly endearing” from the next room, and the blaze of envy that rose in Roman burned every spark to ashes.

Tagging my own list plus everyone who reblogged chapter 1

@fandersfic-royality @virgil-is-thriving @wisepuma23 @sevencrashing @angst-patton @evilmuffin @starryfirefliesbloggo @shesavampirequeen @elementalshadowwitch @the-prince-and-the-emo @noodlelatte @sander-sides-and-tea @the-office-cat @ocotopushugs @katesattic @smokeyrutilequartz @karmels-stuff @mariniacipher @intothevoidsunknown @trashypansexual @hissesssss @sher-soc-the-famder @what-a-catch-joe @xxladystarlightxx @pearls-of-patton @suyun-doo @patton-in-name

#royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #analogical #romantic royality #college au #british au #patchwork fic #food tw

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nitrateglow · 5 years

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Thoughts on Limelight (1952)

I really hope this doesn’t come off as a rant. If it does, I apologize in advance.

Limelight is considered by many to be Chaplin’s last great movie. I had been meaning to see it for years now, ever since I became a silent film fan, ever since I saw the scene with Chaplin and Keaton on the same stage clowning it up together, ever since I read these incandescent notices of how tragic and beautiful it is.

Let me just say, if Limelight is considered Chaplin’s true swansong, then I dread watching A King in New York and A Countess from Hong Kong.

I was frustrated like crazy by this movie. I was relieved when its two-hour-plus runtime rumbled to the inevitable tragic conclusion. I have NEVER felt that way about a Chaplin movie ever. Even his more minor efforts like The Circus are still well-made, entertaining, and moving works.

I admit, I’ve never been as taken with Chaplin’s talkies as with his silent work, but I think The Great Dictator is a fine humanist classic (if not up to bar with his finest silent films) and Monsieur Verdoux is a well-made dark comedy with moments of true genius. Even if these films represent an artist who’s gone beyond his peak, they’re still worthy of attention and very enjoyable.

Chaplin is often criticized as being overly maudlin, but his work rarely, if ever, strikes me as such. He is an emotional filmmaker, sure, one who isn’t afraid to go for tears, but generally, he knows how to tug at those heartstrings in ways that aren’t forced or cheap. At least, that’s what I thought until Limelight, which has a melodramatic, sad-sack conga line of a narrative.

Chaplin plays Calvero, an aging, alcoholic musical hall comedian who rescues young dancer Terry (played by Bloom) from an attempted suicide. Discouraged and suffering from hysterical paralysis, Terry believes life sucks. Calvero delivers sermons about human consciousness and willpower, then gets her back into the theatrical life.

There’s a romantic subplot with a musician (played by Chaplin’s son Sydney) that never goes anywhere interesting, mainly because Terry is too besotted with Calvero to give the musician the time of day. Then Calvero’s acts grow more and more unfunny. We get a rather pretentious ballet sequence. Calvero gets one last shot at the big time, succeeds, then tragedy strikes.

I have a myriad of problems with Limelight, but the one word that best encapsulates how I feel is “self-indulgent.” Half of the movie is dedicated to Chaplin trying to sound poetic and profound, delivering these overdone philosophical speeches to a one-note Claire Bloom.

Claire Bloom’s Terry is such a one-dimensional presence, wholly dependent upon Calvero to do just about anything. I feel she exists just to hear Chaplin’s long-winded pseudo-philosophical pep talks about consciousness and Freud and the sun. Bloom’s performance has two registers: weepy and shrill, and twinkle-eyed schoolgirl gentleness. It might be Bloom’s youth, since I have enjoyed her later performances in Richard III and The Outrage, but I think the writing itself may be more to blame.

Terry just isn’t allowed to be her own person. Calvero proclaims her a great artist, but her own artistic impulses and style aren’t given nearly the same attention as Calvero’s—and even if this is Calvero’s tragedy, Terry’s rise to fame should still be given proper development and attention. The opening intertitles do say this is the story of “a ballerina AND a clown” (emphasis mine).

I cannot believe I’m actually agreeing with Pauline Kael on something, but I totally get what she meant when she said in her own critical piece on the movie that the film is more interested in showing how sensitive Calvero is about art than showing Terry as an artist in her own right.

One of my most common complaints about Chaplin’s talkies is that sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop talking. Most are aware of Roger Ebert’s criticism of the last speech in The Great Dictator and I myself have some issues with Chaplin’s speeches in Verdoux, but those movies had so much better stories that such problems are just blips, nitpicks.

Ohhhh, but not here. Here, Chaplin never knows when to just shut up. Far too many are the sections where he just rambles on and on, most of the speeches being high-flown and literary in style, but rather trite in substance. Take his proclamation, “Desire is what makes a rose want to be a rose.” It’s something that sounds profound until you actually think about it. And when you actually think about it, it doesn’t mean a damn thing at all.

Calvero is off-putting and often comes off as full of crap. Now, the full of crap part might be intentional—toward the mid-point of the film when Terry and Calvero’s fortunes begin to take opposite trajectories, Terry does bring up that the despondent clown isn’t taking his own advice about enjoying life despite hardships. But I’m not sure… so much of his “wisdom” is played off as profound truth and the movie practically begs you to feel sorry for the aging clown, the scorned genius.

Or should I say, “genius,” because the comedy routines we see are pretty dismal, with the exception of the ending skit with Buster Keaton. Aside from the decent chemistry between the two men (Keaton’s droll character provides an interesting foil to the melancholy Calvero and could have been an interesting character in his own right, had he been developed), here the comic business is a thousand times more inspiring than the flea circus or the comic “banter” with Bloom. It comes in like a breath of fresh air after all the weepy pathos and dreary philosophical wanking have set your brain to dead.

Calvero says at one point, “I lost touch with my audience.” Limelight doesn’t really go into why this is so, though the prominence of WWI in the background does suggest the ending of an age, but I know why I think this is the case. Calvero does not go onstage to cheer people or express himself or for any aesthetic purpose. He does not serve the audience or seek to give them anything. The audience is there to gratify his ego and when they aren’t doing that, it’s THEY that are the unfeeling monsters. How dare they not be amused by Calvero scratching at imaginary fleas!

Oh Lord, I don’t mean to be this snarky or mean. I’m just so… SAD. I don’t want to dislike a Chaplin movie. The man is really worth all the hype and a true master, but this is definitely not him at his best. I just do not get the praise for it AT ALL.

There are fleeting moments of interest, sure, and occasional moments of wit (I like when Terry asks why he enjoys theater if the sight of the theater itself depresses him, Calvero responds, “I don’t like the sight of blood, but it’s in my veins”), but they don’t add up to a masterpiece.

I’d call this movie his worst feature film to that point—which, once again, has me terrified for the two movies which followed this. I get it’s a personal film for him. I like some of what it’s trying to do. But it feels like a very messy, undisciplined film driven more by ego than by any desire to talk about death or youth in an honest way.

Anyway, forgive me. Maybe one day I’ll rewatch it and it will all click. But after this initial viewing, this is how I feel.

#thoughts #probably a rant #unpopular opinion #i cannot believe how disappointed i am

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itsclydebitches · 6 years

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RWBY Recaps: Ruby Rose

This is a reposting from Sept. 22nd, 2017 in an effort to get all my recaps onto tumblr. Thanks!

I am combat ready! Or at least writing ready. For ages now I've wanted to tackle a comprehensive recap/analysis of each RWBY webisode and what better time to start then a few weeks before Volume 5? Though I'll mostly be sticking to plot points as they occur chronologically, any new RWBY viewers should be aware that recaps will include spoilers, mostly in the form of referencing foreshadowing and parallels. Read at your own risk.

Let's get started.

Our series technically opens with four trailers (which you can no more skip than Doctor Who fans can skip Nine), but for the purposes of this recap we're saying that we start the show off with an origin tale. A fairy tale, if you will. Our very first shot is of a high tower decked out in green, beacon-like lights that I'm sure are in no way symbolic standing atop it.

Our narrator, an unknown woman, begins with a cryptic message:

“Legends, stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts of a forgotten past.”

Obviously not everyone has forgotten these legends, considering that she's the one telling us them, but right from the start there's a dichotomy set up. There are people, humans, who view the past as something that inherently includes them. Any myths that are passed down are about humans--they're the "exploits of heroes and villains." However, this woman reminds us that there was an existence long before mankind was created; that the world, its history, and its power is far more vast than we're willing to acknowledge. Or able to.

We're small in comparison. We're just "remnants" of something far larger.

(Also, interestingly, note the "we" in "we are remnants." We learn a lot about Salem later on and no matter how she might look or act, she seems to view herself as human.)

From there on we're given the story of man's creation. Born from dust into an "unforgiving world" already populated by monsters, were it not for their discovery of certain elements--a power that they named "dust" after their own origins--they never would have survived, let alone flourished. Power allowed for civilization. As the story supposedly resolves, we get a change in animation style, moving from the story-book imagery to the real world. The focus on a shattered moon suggests that, despite humanity’s success, things are not all peachy-keen.

Also, enter these guys.

This is Roman and I just love his entrance. RWBY is a show that is very overt in its tropes and homages, and though there's complexity later on, for now Roman and his goons are pretty straight-forward. They're Bad. How do we know they're Bad? Because they're creeping out of the shadows late at night. We've got this guy smoking in an age where the habit is thoroughly demonized. All his goons are pretty identical in true, gangster fashion and Roman himself is the most flamboyantly dressed, drawing on a long (and very problematic) tradition of queer-coding villains. He's wearing a bowler hat for heaven's sake, which is basically just a step up from a fedora.

He's also a redhead. That'll be important.... later.

For now, Roman struts down the street (giving us a hilarious first-look at RWBY's silhouette background characters) and Salem changes her tone, suddenly sounding far more menacing as she lays out humanity's inevitable destruction. All lights "flicker and die" and we're warned that "there will be no victory in strength." The only thing that keeps the scene from becoming depression central is the introduction of a new voice, a man's that--if you're paying attention--you'll recognize later in the episode:

"But perhaps victory is in the smaller things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul."

Pan down to this cutie.

Wow! I wonder who the small, honest soul could be?

(Also take note of the ad on the back of the magazine: the Schnee logo with the tagline "The Finest of them All." Weiss, based off of Snow White, is therefore "the fairest of them all." Or at least she thinks she is.)

Roman barges in and starts talking about how hard it is to find a dust shop open this late which... raises a number of questions for me? Like why they're looking for a dust shop that's open at all. Why not just wait until everything is closed down and then rob the place? It certainly wouldn't be hard to break in. Given what we know of the villains' larger plans in Volume 3, it could be that they want to sow fear in the people of Vale by committing robberies in plain sight (recall the horrified background characters as Roman walks by), but if so why not actually attack in broad daylight? Overall it just seems like a strange comment.

We're given our first glimpse of Roman as an ambivalent villain as he refuses the shopkeeper's money. He's here only to complete his mission of stealing dust, not entirely wipe the guy out so... yay, I guess?

One of the goons notices our little red riding hood and pulls a sword on her, which is kind of hilarious. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's because right after that a different goon pulls out a gun which is obviously the more logical weapon here. But no. Goon #1 needs his massive, red sword to threaten the small child with.

Small Child is not impressed.

"Are you robbing me?"

"Yes!"

"Ooooh."

And she proceeds to kick him from the back of the store all the way into the far wall.

Let's take a moment to appreciate Roman's dafaq face here:

This is a technique nearly two decades old. Everyone knows the story of how Buffy got started. Whedon wanted a stereotypical heroine--small, cute, blonde--but who, rather than getting killed by the monster in the alleyway, ends up being the very thing that the monster should fear. It's an oldie now, but a goodie. We're presented with this tiny, adorable girl who is characterized as a victim, only to find that she's the one with the most power. Not only can she kick a full-grown man across a room, she's got some crazy weaponry tucked away too.

This is, by definition, a badass moment.

As we see in the ensuing fight this little girl is very proficient with her scythe. There's a great moment as her headphones play "This Will Be the Day" diegetically, only for the song to move into non-diegetic soundtrack, and then back to diegetic music as she turns off her headphones and... they disappear? Presumably she has pockets.

Iffy animation aside, RWBY seems like the kind of world that would give its girls pockets.

Roman: "Okay... get her."

That little moment of confusion--Roman's disbelieving "Okay?"--seems a little like inconsistent world-building. Certainly he knows that Signal and Beacon aren't too far from here, meaning that there are lots of teenagers around, Huntsmen and Huntresses in training that are capable of kicking his henchmen's ass. Is he just thrown off guard by this girl's (even younger) age? Who can say.

Regardless, she handles all the goons with ease. Ruby (yeah, let's just use all names for simplicity's sake) has a direct and efficient fighting style. This is our first glimpse into the maturity hiding behind a seemingly immature outer shell. Ruby doesn't take the time to taunt the goons or get all flashy with her fighting, she just takes them out, pure and simple, something that young and confident heroes often struggle with. Roman proves a little harder though when his cane turns out to be a gun.

Lesson One: pretty much everything in RWBY is a gun. Cane? Gun. Scythe? Gun. Thermos? Gun! That lamp? Probably also a gun.

As Roman escapes we get another glimpse of Ruby's priorities when she asks the storekeeper, "Are you okay if I go after him?" It's a small but wonderful moment that tells us Ruby isn't a hero who wants to fight for the sake of fighting, at least outside of friendly competitions. Had the storekeeper been injured or needed her for some other reason, Ruby would have held his needs above just catching the bad guys. That's important.

So, having gotten the a-okay, Ruby chases Roman up to the rooftops and we hear his annoyed (yet impressed?) mutter of, "Persistent." Just as they're about to duke it out again an airship arrives that Roman boards, throwing out a dust crystal that explodes when he shoots it. It looks like Ruby might have been caught in the blast, but at the last possible second Glynda Mother-F***ing Goodwitch arrives to save the day.

Why was she out in town this late at night? How did she feel seeing some tiny child fighting a notoriously wanted criminal up on the rooftop? These are questions only fanfic can answer. The point is that Glynda saves Ruby not once, but twice, all while exhibiting a truly impressive amount of power. It's here that we first get to see not just fantasy weapons, but what we might term magic (in what will quickly become a fairly convoluted magical system). It isn’t until later that we realize others don’t consider Glynda’s abilities to be magic, though given what we now know about semblances and their assumed connection to Humanity 1.0, it’s perhaps no coincidence that the audience is meant to think this is magic at first glance. But telekinesis--the ability to manipulate anything from objects to the weather itself--is staggering nonetheless and the show should really give Glynda something else to do with her power besides fixing craters and broken buildings. Or just bring her back, period.

Glynda even makes a little "Humph" sound when she blocks the blast like, "Please. You'll have to try harder than that."

They do.

Roman yells to the pilot that they have a "Huntress" to deal with and we're given glimpses of a more important villain: fancy dress, high heels, strange tattoo on her back, and an affinity for fire. She's deemed important simply by the fact that the 'camera' always keeps her face hidden from view, inviting speculation as to who she is and what her motives are. Though she and Glynda seem pretty evenly matched (with Ruby joining in to help), Roman flies them out of there before things get more heated. Pun intended.

As a side note, it’s worth pointing out that, in retrospect, we did just see magic with Cinder... which we then assume for a very long stretch was her semblance given what we quickly learn about Glynda. You can see why this stuff gets muddled. The fact that Ruby, a bright and fighting obsessed girl, doesn’t seem to think it odd that someone can shoot fire just hammers home how not magic-y these abilities read to characters in world. Until the plot suddenly wants them to. AKA bird anger.

Regardless, as the viewer cheers at the rarity of three women dominating a fight scene, Ruby has bigger things to think about. Like the fact that Glynda is a Huntress and Ruby just has to have an autograph.

Cut from this:

To this:

Humor aside, this actually does a lot for situating what a Huntress is in the viewer's mind. We might not have an exact definition yet, but we know two important things: they're on the side of our small hero (Glynda protects Ruby) and they're regarded as at least minor celebrities. In short, they're the Big Good to the mysterious Big Bad.

They’re also, as we’re about to see, subject to the law.

But back to Ruby. See that spotlight? Glynda has this 15yo girl in an interrogation room, prowling about while lecturing that she "put herself and others in grave danger." Interesting. What others were in danger? Civilians? Looks like everyone else cleared the streets once Roman showed up. The shopkeeper? As said, Ruby was very careful about making sure he was okay. Normally I’d be 100% on Glynda’s side here, but I think Ruby actually acted very maturely given the circumstances. Especially considering that she’s right: they started it. Glynda’s generic reprimands might imply that there are many non-Huntsmen trained fighters out there making a mess of things (at least by Glynda's standards). Certainly we later see conflict between trained Huntsmen/Huntresses and those who learned to fight "outside the kingdom."

Also... just reminding everyone... that Glynda uses a riding crop. Rooster Teeth had to know the can of worms they were opening with that little choice. If you don't want porn of the deputy headmistress and various other characters, don't dress her like a dominatrix and give her lines like, "I'd have sent you home with a pat on the back... and a slap on the wrist!"

Glynda is very serious that Ruby would be in big trouble if it weren't for the fact that a certain someone wants to meet her. Enter my trash fave:

Ozpin.

He's basically Dumbledore if he actually had better justifications for his iffy decisions and looked like a hot 30yo. My priorities aside, more fascinating questions start cropping up. How long has Ruby been held in this room? What was that conversation between Glynda and Ozpin like--Hey, I found this random child who nearly took out a whole criminal gang, that seems like your kind of thing? Why does Ozpin arrive with a full plate of chocolate chip cookies? Did he bake them himself? Does Ruby ever get Glynda’s autography?

These kinds of questions are the lifeblood of fandom.

As an aside, I'm a complete animation snob. I've been spoiled by too many great artists to immediately accept just anything you throw up on screen. When I first watched this episode and saw Crunchy Roll's review that RWBY is "lovely to look at" my response was, "...seriously?" This moment, when Ozpin gives Ruby the cookies and they proceed to just disappear as they approach her mouth was my breaking point for a while. I had to be talked into watching more... and I'm so glad I was. Now, after years with these characters, I have a much deeper appreciation for the art style and the beauty that RWBY contains. Now the cookie scene is just straight up funny to me.

Back to plot though. Ozpin introduces himself by introducing Ruby. We get her name for the first time and as Ozpin peers down at her he says, "You have... silver eyes," which confuses Ruby and has the viewer nodding sagely. Yep. That'll come back later.

Ozpin reviews Ruby's fight and wants to know where she learned all that. More specifically, he wants to know who taught her to use "one of the most dangerous weapons ever designed," which is another fascinating moment that I think is largely overlooked by the fandom. Ruby is living in a world chock-full of crazy dangerous weaponry. Already we've seen a gun-cane and a riding crop used as a wand. The fact that Ozpin labels Ruby's sniper-scythe as one of the most dangerous not only re-emphasizes her skill, but hints that the scythe may be a particularly powerful weapon... one even he might favor. Though we later get to see Ozpin fight with his cane and he clearly prefers that form, we've yet to get a full explanation for those gears in it:

In retrospect after Volume 6, there’s little evidence that his cane turns into a full other weapon, but it was an cool theory for a while.

Ruby says proudly that her Uncle Qrow taught her everything and that she's currently a student at Signal Academy.

Ozpin: "And what's an adorable girl like you doing at a school designed to train warriors?"

Ruby: "Well... I want to be a Huntress."

Ozpin: "You want to slay monsters?"

Ruby: "Yeah."

Ruby launches into an excited speech about following in her big sister's footsteps, looking for a career that's more "romantic" than the police, and above all getting to help people. Watching Ozpin in this scene gives us a pretty clear view into his thoughts: his shock at Ruby's proficiency with the scythe, making sure he's reading the situation correctly (this small, adorable child wants to fight evil?), his look of approval as Ruby tries to explain her thinking. There's even what I read as a little test. "You want to slay monsters?" A major theme in RWBY is that people are the real monster, the biggest threat, and it takes Ruby a long time to learn that. To semi-quote Sirius, the world isn't split into good people and Grimm. Though Ruby doesn't realize this yet--she just implies that she wants to fight Grimm--her skill and pure intentions (which will come into play later during "Mountain Glenn") are enough for Ozpin to offer her a place at Beacon two years early. As we learn later, as an added bonus this also helps keep her safe. Those with silver eyes are hunted and Ruby has not been keeping a low profile.

"You want to come to my school? Well... okay."

One of these teachers is happier about this situation than the other.

It’s pretty amazing though.

Yang thinks it's amazing too. We jump ahead an unspecified amount of time to meet Ruby's half-sister on the airship to Beacon. I adore their interaction here because so often media limits sibling relationships to arguing and competition. Not so with these two. Yang isn't at all jealous that her little sister is getting special treatment. Ruby is the only one with issues:

Ruby: "I got moved ahead two years... I just don't want people to think I'm special or anything."

Yang: "But you are special."

Ruby just wants to be a normal girl with normal knees. No bee's knees allowed.

As Ruby begins struggling with her new situation we get Roman's name in a news bulletin, along with a hilariously different art style.

We also get reference to people called "Faunus" who possess animal traits, their civil rights movement, and the violent organization called the White Fang that recently interfered in a peaceful protest. The bulletin is cut off by a holographic Glynda's welcome.

Yang: "Who's that?"

Glynda's hologram introduces herself immediately after, but I find it funny that Ruby doesn't even look like she's going to try and answer. As if she hadn't met and fought alongside Glynda just a little while ago. Also. Ruby knew exactly who Ozpin was. Didn't have a clue about Glynda. Poor Professor Goodwitch does all the work around Beacon and receives none of the credit lol.

I actually really like Glynda's speech here though. She's welcoming to the students without coddling them. Like other shows with children entering combat, RWBY lets the viewer know that we can't always apply our real-world morality to these situations. These kids might be young--17 years old and 15 in Ruby's case--but they're going to be treated like adults for as long as that’s logical. As we’ll see later though, there’s a distinct difference between responsibility inside school and out...

Right before our pilot ends we're introduced to Jaune, or the name we know him by so far, "Vomit Boy." The webisode ends on a light note with Jaune getting puke on Yang's shoes and the two sisters freaking out about it. We're also given our first, gorgeous look at Beacon:

Now that’s animation I can get behind. Everything is light and happy. Ah, they have no idea the horror that's coming for them. Just wait until Volume 3.

Until then, 💚

#rwby #mymetas #RWBY Recaps

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Red Seas Under Red Skies

by Wardog

Friday, 01 February 2008

Wardog praises with faint damnation~

I was nosing about Scott Lynch's LJ (which is endearingly titled The Dork Lord, on His Dork Throne) not so long ago and I came across this:

I was not a fan of the Wheel of Time books, probably because I came to them in my twenties with my tastes already fairly developed. I was never able to get past the opening of the second book, and those of you who've known me for ages I'm sure absorbed my criticism and invective years ago. I once wrote at excruciating length upon the weaknesses of the books as I perceived them, and while I thought it was extremely clever and somehow necessary at the time, the years since have drastically mellowed my taste for mocking the work of other authors who aren't huge assholes in person or pushing a distasteful agenda with their work. About the best I can say for my mosquito bites is that I sincerely hope Jordan himself never had them called to his attention. Something tells me he would have given them the eye roll they deserved.

And the sheer decency of it has sort of shamed me to such an extent (especially since I am a non-achiever who hangs about on the internet criticising other people's work) that I can hardly bring myself to review Red Seas Under Red Skies, especially since my attempt to write about The Lies of Locke Lamora degenerated into a (semi-harmless) mock-fest of Scott Lynch's hair. By the way the important word in that sentence was "hardly." With this mind and all due humility, here are some thoughts on Red Thingies Over/Under Red Other Thingies, which I shall hereafter refer to as RSURS for the sake of my sanity. It's the second book in the Gentleman Bastard sequence which will, I understand, eventually form a septet. I have to say, this idea distresses me. Not only has Harry Potter soured me on the number seven for life but, given the fact the fantasy genre generally can't cope with trilogies, the idea of a septet seems utterly ludicrous to me. I mean, what do you have to say that takes seven books? Seriously?

For the moment, however, Scott Lynch seems to have something to say. Ultimately there's no point in reading RSURS if you haven't read The Lies of Locke Lamora not because it doesn't almost stand alone but because familiarity with the background, the setting and the characters deepens the experience of reading. To give it due credit: RSURS is reasonably satisfying on its own terms. You can feel the slow gathering of plot upon the horizon like distant clouds (and fear the coming storm) and there are some massive danglers just left hanging in a deliberately taunting and irritating fashion but, hey, thems the breaks with this kind of thing. And, as in Lies, the mysterious Sabetha, the apparent love of Locke's life, is alluded to but remains absent: for fuck's sake, Lynch, stop it. You know she's just going to be a total let down after a build up like this.

The problems evident in Lies are evident in RSURS, only slightly moreso because you don't have the novelty factor of being a first book to distract you from them. If you didn't like Locke the first time round, you won't like him here because he's exactly the same and still, some might argue, something of a Mary Sue or the male equivalent thereof. Although I don't personally object to the love affair Scott Lynch is tenderly enacting with his (anti)hero, I do struggle somewhat with the character. As I think I said in my review of Lies, he's absolutely the nicest bastard you could ever hope to meet: he never harms or kills anybody who doesn't thoroughly deserve it, his supposedly long-dead conscience miraculously reappears whenever he's confronted by any sort of cruelty or injustice and his unswerving and self-sacrificing loyalty to his friends is a virtue of such magnitude that it eclipses everything remotely unsympathetic about him. It shouldn't, but that's the way fiction works: if your character cares about the same people as the reader, it doesn't really matter how that character behaves, they're always going to garner a degree of support and approval.

I wouldn't mind this so much if I didn't have the feeling that Locke is supposed to be a shady character for a dark world. Perhaps I have the wrong end of the stick and Locke was never meant to be anything but a big bleeding heart beneath a thin veneer of survivalist criminality but I don't think so. I think the problem with Locke Lamora is that he's neither enough of one thing nor its opposite: he's neither selfish enough to be a convincing anti-hero nor virtuous enough to be a convincing hero. I know part of his shtick is his shifting sense of self and I'm not averse to complicated, contradictory characters but I find Locke incoherent rather than complex. I'm genuinely uncertain as to what Lynch is trying to do with the character or what we're meant to think. I'm not saying he doesn't do terrible things - he mutilates someone (who, admittedly, deserves it) in the first book - but everything he does that's vile and shocking is excusable whereas everything he does that's compassionate is extraordinary. For example, in RSURS, he and Jean, hanging out a decadent casino called the Sinspire, witness an entertainment in which a young nobleman, unable to pay his debts, has to survive in cage of stiletto wasps. Needless to say he doesn't and Locke secretly makes a blessing over the young man's forgotten corpse:

"Crooked Warden," Locke muttered under his breath, speaking quickly, "a glass poured on the ground for a stranger without friends. Lord of gallants and fools, ease this man's passage to the Lady of the Long Silence. This was a hell of a way to die. Do this for me and I'll try not to ask for anything for a while. I really do mean that this time."

There is no reason for this scene to be in the book (not that it isn't cool) - there are plenty examples of the upper classes being cruel and bloodthirsty to make the point and if the stiletto wasps are at all relevant beyond providing atmosphere they're certainly not to this book. In fact, its only purpose is to remind us that Locke Lamora is great and to show him, thief and conman that he is, being humane in the face of the world's inhumanity.

Unlike some of the reviews I've read, I've never had a problem with the snappy, modern dialogue and the very modern obscenity. In fact, I genuinely relish it. Unfortunately, it was during RSURS that I realised something that had passed me by in the first book: it's the only kind of dialogue Lynch can write. Everyone sounds the same. Pirates, noblemen, thieves, priests Locke, Jean: they're interchangeable. Witty but interchangeable.

"And now, my dear professional pessimist," said Locke... "my worry merchant, my tireless font of doubt and derision ... what do you have to say to that? "Oh very little to be sure... it's so hard to think, overawed as I am with the sublime genius of your plan." "That bears some resemblance to sarcasm." "Gods, forefend," said Jean. "You wound me! Your inexpressible criminal virtues have triumphed again, as inevitably as the tides comes and go. I cast myself at your feet and beg for absolution. Yours is the genius that nourishes the heart of the world." "And now you're-" "If only there was a leper handy," interrupted Jean, "so you could lay your hands on him and magically heal him-" "Oh you're just farting out of your mouth because you're jealous."

And so on. And here we have Jean talking to his ladylove:

"Have you really been practicing on barrels Jerome?" "Barrels. Yes. They never laugh, they never ridicule you and they offer no distractions." "Distractions?" "Barrels don't have breasts." "Ah. So what have you been telling these barrels?" "This bottle of brandy," said Jean, "is still too full for me to begin embarrassing myself like that." "Pretend I'm a barrel then." "Barrels don't have br-" "So I've heard. Find the nerve, Valora." "You want me to pretend that you're a barrel, so I can tell you what I was telling barrels back when I was pretending they were you." "Precisely." "Well ... you have ... you have such hoops as I have never seen in any cask on any ship, such shiny and well-fit hoops-" "Jerome-" "And your staves! Your staves ... so well planned, so tightly fit. You are as fine a cask as I ever seen, you marvellous little barrel. To say nothing of your bung-."

See what I mean?

I think in my review of Lies I commented on the deftness and subtlety of the world building - well, in RSURS, the action has moved from a city made of elderglass to a city consisting of islands made of elderglass. Astonishing. And sadly the delicacy of touch seems to have been replaced by the typical fantasy fiction obsession with geographic detail. It's nowhere near Perdido Street Stationbut, as much as I enjoy Lynch's world, there's a bit too much of this sort of thing:

Tal Verrar, the Rose of the Gods, at the westernmost edge of what the Therin people call the civilised world. If you could stand in thin air a thousand yards above Tal Verrar's tallest towers, or float in lazy circles there like the nations of gulls that infest the city's crevices and rooftops, you would see how its vast, dark islands have given this place its ancient nickname. They whirl outward from the city's heart, a series of crescents steadily increasing in size, like the stylised petals of a rose in an artist's mosaic.

And so on for two or more pages at a time. A bit like this review really.

Also it has to be said, the plot makes no sense whatsoever. It attempts to follow the embedded narrative format of the first book but it feels strained: Lynch occasionally plays with chronology, explaining how events came about after they occur, and offers a few reminiscences but it's noticeably a device now, rather than the most natural vehicle to tell the story. And, like the first book, it begins with Locke and Jean mid-heist only to drag them - reluctant and swearing as ever - into much bigger events, allowing the plot to twist, turn, double back on itself and eventually come full circle in a strangely satisfying manner. Except this time, it turns out that the Archon of Tal Verrar wants them to become ... wait for it ... pirates. Yes. Pirates. Two conmen from the streets of Camorr. Pirates. Now, I know that pirates are just inherently cool and you can't go wrong with them but still, come on. What's next? Locke Lamora and some ninjas? Locke Lamora and zombies? I don't know whether to respect the sheer brass bollocks ludicrousness of it or complain bitterly because it has to be the most spurious excuse for a plot I've ever encountered. And the fact that even main characters complain about the stupidity doesn't actually counteract that stupidity:

"Send us out to sea to find an excuse for you, that's what you said," said Locke. "Send us out to sea. Has your brain swelled against the inside of skull? How the screaming fucking hell do you expect the two of us to raise a bloody pirate armada in a place we've never been and convince it to come merrily die at the hands of the navy that bent it over the table and fucked it in the arse last time."

This is Lynch's latest technique, by the way, one I think he might have borrowed from JK Rowling. He seems have developed a tendency to address the inevitable plot holes of his novels by having his characters draw attention to it. To be honest,

fridge logic

doesn't bother me - I don't care how Buffy the Vampire slayer pays the mortgage on her dead mother's house or how Sydney Bristow circles the globe in half an episode - but attempting to pass it off as anything other than what it is offends me. Having the Archon blackmail Locke and Jean into mustering a pirate armada for political reasons is little more than a blatant excuse for the author to have them messing about with pirates, which is in itself fair enough. However, having Locke and Jean constantly bitching about the insanity of the plan even as they enact it only serves to induce bouts of fridge logic before you're even anywhere near the fridge. It also leads to odd little moments like this:

"Why not?" [said Jean] "Why not? We carry your precious misery with us like a holy fucking relic. Don't talk about Sabetha Belacoros. Don't talk about the plays. Don't talk about Jasmer or Espara or any of the schemes we ran. I lived with her for nine years, same as you, and I've pretended she doesn't fucking exist to avoid upsetting you. Well I'm not you. I'm not content to live like an oath-bond monk. I have a life outside your gods-damned shadow."

Err...actually Jean, you're a sidekick. Haven't you noticed? You actually do not have a life outside Locke Lamora's gods-damned shadow. The more Lynch tries to demonstrate to the reader that Jean is a person in his own right the less convincing it becomes. All it does is illustrate the fact that whatever Jean does on his own account is completely meaningless because his only relevance is tied to his supporting role, a role to which he will always return. His short-lived relationship - although actually moderately engaging, while it lasts - is only further evidence of this. You can see its inevitably tragic conclusion approaching on the horizon like the sails of the good ship Obvious.

The other thing I'm feeling a little bit peeved is Lynch's reliance on a technique he seems to have ganked from Alias. Now, I'm not sure if it continues in the later seasons but the early episodes of Alias always end with a cliff-hanger. And at first I used to get tremendously caught up in them. Oh no, I'd cry, Sydney is hanging from a cliff with only her suspender belt between her and certain death. Oh no, Sydney's rival has locked her in the poison-gas filled vault. Oh no, Sydney is being held at gunpoint by the bad guys. And then I'd insist that we watched another episode to find out what was going to happen, only to be faintly disappointed when the desperate, deadly situation resolved itself harmlessly in about two minutes of screen time. RSURS opens with Locke and Jean caught at crossbow-point on the docks and then, gasp, ever-faithful Jean turns on Locke. The novel then spools backwards in time to show you how they got themselves into this mess and, yes, it's arresting except that it's basically just like Alias, a cliff-hanger critical on the surface but ultimately completely meaningless and wrapped up quicker than a streaker at a tennis match. A couple of similar situations happen over the course of the book and, despite the satisfactory resolution of the plot, there's one left right at the end. I suspect I'd be more interested/frustrated by this Tense and Terrible State Of Affairs if the experience of the rest of the novel hadn't led me to the conviction that it's merely there for affect.

Okay, so I've just written four pages of bitching about RSURS but the fact remains that, despite its flaws, despite everything in it that doesn't quite work for me, I still heartily enjoyed it and very nearly loved it. Pirates, for God's sake, pirates! It's not quite as taut as the first book but once Locke and Jean hit the high seas the pace really picks up and the book becomes wonderful fun, sweeping you along on sheer exuberance and panache. And, damn it all, that's good enough for me. Roll on book three.Themes:

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~Comments (

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Arthur B

at 01:09 on 2008-02-02It strikes me that the Gentleman Bastard series embodies a problem I have with lots of fantasy series, namely that one book is really enough. I've felt absolutely no urge to go and read RSURS, and most of the things you point out in the review cement that; sure, it seems to be more of the same, and that's well and good - at least it's not a serious decline. On the other hand, one

Lies of Locke Lamora

is enough for me - having read one book, I don't feel as though anything the other books say can really add anything. (I'm also utterly unconvinced that there's enough juice in the Gentleman Bastards concepts to fill 7 books. I mean, for goodness' sake, he's only on the second book in the series and already he's resorted to pirates.)

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empink

at 02:49 on 2008-02-02@ ArthurB: Forsooth, he *will* go to ninjas next.

You know, I had more faith in this guy. I thought he'd at least 'fess up about Sabetha whatshername, or tie the book back to the first one, or do something other than send Jean and Locke to cavort with pirates for no good reason. It made for fantastic cavorting and rather dull and simplistic reading, though-- I won't be buying any more sequels in hardback, or holding on to them out of guilt either.

Oh, and Kyra, the DIALOGUE. Everyone does sound the same, it's so boring. No one is allowed to be stupid, or say frightening things without twisting themselves into witty shapes and cursing fit to kill themselves. It was all right in the first book, but in RSURS, it starts to look like lack of imagination on Lynch's part.

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Arthur B

at 12:04 on 2008-02-02Yeah, I can think of several points in the first book where I had to start reading a conversation again from the beginning because I lost track of who was who. It's this really weird blind spot in Lynch's writing; he can, when he tries, differentiate between characters in terms of disposition, personality, and so forth, and you can tell that by looking at their actions. (To pick the most obvious example, Jean is far more inclined to charge headlong into a fight like a raging bull than Locke is.) But he's chronically incapable of differentiating them when they're speaking.

I can only assume that he finds dialogue difficult (and to be fair, dialogue

difficult), and is trying to compensate by finding a style of dialogue he's quite good at and applying it to everyone.

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Wardog

at 14:23 on 2008-02-04I'm glad the dialogue thing isn't only me ... it's the main problem I have with the series to be honest, despite all my trivial bitching above. After a while, it gets really wearing and the characters all start blurring into each other because I find that it's language rather than behaviour that distinguishes people in books - heh, she says, massively generalising.

I think I must be less bothered by "more of the same" than Arthur is - I genuinely enjoyed both books and I'll happily read more (although I've never splashed out a hardback of either, so the cost of my good will is significantly cheaper than Empink's!) as long as they stay on this kind of level (or get better!). I do find them a nice antidote to ponderous, serious fantasy. I genuinely dig the exuberance and the irreverence.

Also I've been poking about Scott Lynch's personal sites and he seems like a pretty decent, charmingly humble guy...

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Cheriola

at 16:16 on 2014-07-26You know, oddly most of the things you mention didn't bother me at all. Except the utter pointlessness of the opening cliffhanger.

The only thing I did have a problem with is the way Jean shames Locke out of his depression, and Locke keeps apologising for "letting Jean down" in those few weeks for literally the next two years. I mean, in this book, it still reads like he's just mourning/recuperating a little too self-indulgently and maybe like he has a really short bout of alcoholism - but since the next book starts pretty much the same (except Locke has even more good reason to be depressed), and Jean then actually makes a reference to some kind of mental disorder (more something like Freud's innate death wish than depression, but still), it becomes problematic in hindsight. Especially since, either intentionally or not, Locke pretty much reads like a textbook case for bipolar disorder (spending most of each book in a manic phase), if you read all 3 books right after another. So for largely-neurotypical Jean to go "If I can handle our losses, why can't you?" and being sucessful at shaming/angering Locke out of suicidal depressive phases, that's rather problematic in my eyes. I know it fits with the setting that nobody has a clue about modern psychology and how Locke's mood issues are a disease, not willful misbehaviour, but Lynch should find a way to make at least narratively clear that Jean isn't right to do this. Besides, that kind of shaming would just make things worse with a real depressive person.

By the way, I'm fairly sure Locke is supposed to be a straight up trickster hero. Like Robin Hood, or the characters of the show "Leverage". He's not just a crook, he's also a priest and he really does believe in his duty to the dead and that holy mission for class revenge that Father Chains put them all on. (Even if this was retconned into this book and not in the first.) If anything he gets ever kinder from book to book. I think the third one literally points out that Camorr culture is particularly brutal, macho and homophobic compared to all the other city states, and much of Locke's initial darkness is part of his culture (like for example an extreme belief in having to take personal, blood-feud style vengeance) and that this is supposed to be a character flaw. But as he spends time in other cultures, he grows out of some of it. For example, in the first book, he calls the villain homophobic slurs several times. After encountering the queer-positive pirates in the second novel and that little discussion with "I'll try anything once - or 5 or 6 times" guy, he never does that again. And by book 3, when encountering a random pair of gay lovers making out in a garden and being tempted to go through their discarded clothing for their wallets, he stops his kleptomaniac impulse by reminding himself that doing malice to happy lovers would be bad karma.

Also, the losses of his friends, the brush with alcoholism and several with death have seemed to have made him a lot more sympathetic with other people's failings and tragedies. I actually really liked this character development. Yeah, he starts out as a bit of a cock-sure, obnoxious ass, but he does grow up and mellow out over the years, as one should expect.

Heh, but one character actually goes into a rant in the 3rd book about how Father Chains ruined them all for life as hardened, greed-motivated criminals by saddling them with a conscience. So I guess Lynch sees your problem.

By the way, can you really call a character a Mary Sue if literally none of his grand plans for cons ever work out, sometimes because of his own sheer stupidity (e.g. forgetting the cats), sometimes because his mark is just plain cleverer than him (e.g. the paintings), and the author takes an almost perverse delight in beating the crap out of him on a regular basis?

And, as in Lies, the mysterious Sabetha, the apparent love of Locke's life, is alluded to but remains absent: for fuck's sake, Lynch, stop it. You know she's just going to be a total let down after a build up like this.

I thought so, too, and got annoyed at the on-the-pedestal-putting. But now that I've read book 3, which features Sabetha both at about age 30 and when they were both teenagers: She's not. She's really, truly not. In fact, I was genuinely amazed at Sabetha - she's the best feminist (NOT straw-feminist!) character I've ever seen a male author write. And even if half of her discussions with Locke function mainly to introduce the male part of the audience to concepts like male entitlement to female sexuality, Nice Guy behaviour, Shroedinger's Rapist, victim blaming, the general frustration inherent in being an ambitious, highly talented woman in a patriarchal society and the frustration of being in love a with patriarchally socialised guy (who messes up occasionally even if he tries very, very hard not to, and who can't help the unfair male privilege that said society gives him), and that what feminists most want in a man is the ability to listen and learn - even if she's a bit of a mouthpiece in that regard: It's for a good and noble cause, and the author's heart is in the right place. And besides, there still is a clever, head-strong, angry, conflicted, and of course snarky character behind all the Issues. Her characterisation and reasons for leaving are thoroughly believeable, and also function as an Author's Saving Throw by actually pointing out in-text that the worldbuilding in the first book was problematic. Locke and Sabetha are still in love when they meet again, and they are surprisingly mature about their falling out and their attempts to fix it (if not in their professional rivalry...)

And Locke's adoring pedestal-putting, claiming her to be the love of his life, and his whole fixation on her are just that, quite literally - and the text seems aware that it is creepy, and the only thing that saves it is the fact that Locke is absolutely respectful of Sabetha's wishes and never, ever would force so much as a kiss on her. (I found the retconned-in reason for the fixation a bit sad, though: Until book 3, Locke could be read as demisexual for only ever being romantically/sexually attracted to one person. Then it's retconned as having creepy magical reasons that I don't want to spoil.)

The only thing about Sabetha I found a little... amusing, was that teenage Locke was almost too understanding and willing to accept anything feminism-related that she says and to change accordingly. Like I bet the author wishes he was at the age of 16, now that he finally gets it. Still, again, if it serves as a positive role model for male teenage readers, I'm fine with that kind of Mary-Sue-ism. Maybe it's a little preachy, especially since Lynch tries to cover so many topics, but I was just smiling through the whole thing. We do need more books like this.

The con plot of book 3 is a bit meh (basically it's a satire about 'democratic' elections, where Sabetha and Locke are press-ganged into controlling the campaign of one rivaling but politically indistinguishable party each, with all methods allowed short of murder, all ostensibly just for the entertainment of the people who really control the power in this 'republic' - their lives are being threatened to keep them in line, but it just doesn't have the personal stakes and sense of danger that the previous books had), and the teenage flashback is largely about the gang having to stage an annoyingly faux-Shakespearean play while conning a noble into paying for the production. So the relationship between Locke and Sabetha and the object lesson in how to make feminism 101 easily digestible in a fantasy novel, really are the main draws of the book. The meta plot for the series gets going right at the end, though. Which to me felt a bit like jumping the shark, but YMMV.

But I really do recommend the 3rd book, even if the plot is a little weak. Just for the sheer surrealness of reading a male author who manages to get practically everything right with regards to feminism. I mean, I've just read Elizabeth Bear's "Carnival" thinking she must have been the one to teach Lynch - but even she had like two dozen points in that ecofeminist polemic that made me headdesk.

(That book also needs a Ferret review, by the way. It's not thoroughly bad, as such, but the social philosophising made me uncomfortable and I wasn't always sure if I was supposed to be, and the worldbuilding has huge holes at least from my biologist/ecologist point of view. Still, queer protagonists are rare and deserve a mention.)

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Robinson L

at 20:15 on 2016-12-21

Cheriola: You know, oddly most of the things you mention didn't bother me at all. Except the utter pointlessness of the opening cliffhanger.

That pretty much sums up my feelings about the book, too. I guess I just think of this series as running on Rule of Cool and nothing else. Locke and Jean become pirates? Sure, why not? Doesn’t make sense? Who cares? And of course they’re going to complain about how ridiculous the Archon’s plan for them is, but that’s part of the fun.

Dialogue’s all the same? Ehn, so what? It’s all fun. And like you, I relish the modern snappiness/obscenity.

I mean, I don’t blame Wardog or Empink or anyone else who is bothered by this stuff, but just for myself, it seemed fine.

Wardog: I genuinely dig the exuberance and the irreverence.

That’s me, all the way (well, more like ~90% …)

I think the series is of two minds about whether Locke is actually supposed to be kind of an awful person or a stand up guy who happens to be a criminal—but as explained in my comment to the

Lies

review, I’ve chosen not to engage with those aspects and treat the whole thing as a rollicking adventure yarn. I will, however, once again point out a couple instances from this book of Character We’re Supposed to Root For Acts Like a Shitheel and Is In No Way Critiqued For It By the Text presently.

Re: description

And sadly the delicacy of touch seems to have been replaced by the typical fantasy fiction obsession with geographic detail.

Okay, here we come to a criticism I wholeheartedly agree with. Ye GODS but the description got tedious at times. It got tedious on

audiobook

; I shudder to think of trying to slog through it in text format.

I didn’t so much resent the book ending on a cliffhanger – although by the time I got to it, <Republic of Thieveslt/i> was already out, so I knew I’d be reading the next installment in a few months. Mostly, though, I was just relieved the cliffhanger revolved around Locke’s survival rather than Jean’s, because there’s a chance, however slight, of the series killing off Locke’s sidekick before the final book, whereas there’s absolutely none with Locke. So I appreciate the book making it absolutely clear that it’s not really a question of

the poisoned character will survive, but

how

His [Jean’s] short-lived relationship - although actually moderately engaging, while it lasts - is only further evidence of this. You can see its inevitably tragic conclusion approaching on the horizon like the sails of the good ship Obvious.

I think you undersell the extent to which the tragic conclusion was telegraphed beforehand. We’re talking

a MegaBrooks at the very least

. And I don’t think it would be humanly possible for the way it played out to have been any more cliché. Not to mention the whole fridging angle. Easily the lowest point of the series so far for me.

I thought RSURS handled the aftermath of said inevitable tragic conclusion a heck of a lot less annoyingly than most other books with similar big deaths I’ve encountered, though (lookin’ at you,

Harry Potter

). Jean is, of course, grief-stricken, and the book portrays the depth of his unhappiness while mostly avoiding an Epic Angst Sequence (seriously, there are few things in fiction less engaging than characters sitting around moping), and even sets up some genuinely touching moments, such as in the immediate aftermath of Ezri’s death, when Locke talks Jean down by threatening to throw himself at Jean, forcing the latter to beat the crap out of him (Locke), “and then you’ll feel terrible.”

Yes, pretending Jean is anything more than Locke’s sidekick is on par with “suddenly, Harry realized Dumbledore had actually been a fully-fleshed, three-dimensional character the entire time.” (Book 3 confirms this, when, after Locke is all patched up, Jean slips happily back into his role as Locke’s Number 2 without a hint of lingering grief over Ezri’s death, even as he’s helping out his best buddy romance Sabetha.) However, I thought the conflict between Locke and Jean set off by this outburst of Jean’s you quote in the article was actually pretty decent in terms of a “tensions between the series’ Main Pairing” subplot, which are usually of the eye-bleedingly terrible variety.

And what’s this guff about “moderately engaging?” I found it one of the two most engrossing parts of the story, along with some of Locke and Jean’s interactions. Jean and Ezri are adorable in every single scene they’re together: they bond over martial arts (with Jean being impressed that tiny Ezri actually managed to take him down at first), and their mutual affection for the Gentleman Bastardverse’s Shakespeare analogue. And then there’s the celebration scene where the two of them officially get together, soon after Jean has had his argument with Locke. And he’s keeping his distance from Ezri and it seems like at first he’s heeding Locke’s “you need to stay away from her, bro” bullshit, but it turns out, no, he’s craning away because he’s near-blind and he’s trying to see her properly and it’s incredibly cute you guys, like seriously.

Another thing I really like about the Jean / Ezri relationship is that the presentation feels balanced. I instantly get why Ezri is attracted to Jean as much as why Jean is attracted to Ezri, and in that scene during the celebration where, of course, Jean is being all shy and awkward, there’s a part where we suddenly see Ezri being shy and awkward as well. I’ve read a lot of similar romance arcs—especially those told from the male perspective—where the viewpoint character is vulnerable and complex while their love interest is all strong and confident and basically put on a pedestal.

I actually found it more engaging than Locke’s relationship with Sabetha in

Republic of Thieves

. While I agree with Cheriola that Sabetha is a great character, we don’t get much sense of her interior life, and the only times she displays vulnerability are when it directly relates to Locke. Also, it takes a long time into the story for her to tell Locke and the reader why she’s attracted to him, and I don’t feel the text really

shows

her being attracted the way RSRUS does with Ezri.

RSURS opens with Locke and Jean caught at crossbow-point on the docks and then, gasp, ever-faithful Jean turns on Locke. The novel then spools backwards in time to show you how they got themselves into this mess and, yes, it's arresting except that it's basically just like Alias, a cliff-hanger critical on the surface but ultimately completely meaningless and wrapped up quicker than a streaker at a tennis match.

Oh my god, that was the worst; maybe even worse than Ezri’s death.

I detest flash-forward openings as a general rule. I feel like there

may

have been one or two I’ve encountered which actually worked okay, but if so I can’t remember them now. Those possible examples aside, at best, flash-forward openings contribute f***-all of substance to the story, and at worst they undermine immersion by distracting the reader from the current action with questions which aren’t going to be answered for another 200-400 pages.

To be fair, some flash-forward openings, while still crap, sometimes do something clever with the reader’s expectations (I remember one where a guy wakes up and wonders what the heck is going on, and when we get to that part of the book in turns out the original guy died, and this is a clone, so that waking up sequence is technically his birth). RSURS is not one of those stories, though. The sequence takes on no new significance or added meaning for having read the rest of the book up to that point.

But wait, it gets

better

! Jean turning on Locke is in itself not terribly surprising: they are master con artists, after all. The linchpin (no pun intended) of the tension to this scene is that Jean fails to give the hand signals which mean “this is a scam, play along,” leaving Locke, and the readers, to wonder if this is a real betrayal, after all. Then, after Jean has dispatched the two assassins he says: “Oh, yeah, didn’t you see me giving the hand signal which means ‘this is a scam, play along’?” and Locke is all like, “Gosh, man, I must’ve missed it.” And that’s an end to it. Are you f**king kidding me?

Granted, this sort of stuff happens all the time in real life, but narratively speaking, it’s the worst kind of cheap trick for creating false tension. It

might

have been forgivable if there were some long-term consequences to the whole business. Locke and Jean have both been dosed with a slow-acting poison at this point in the story, and I thought maybe Locke’s failure to notice the hand signal was an early warning sign that the poison is beginning to effect his perception. But

. Or maybe Jean really was considering turning on Locke for some reason or other and then had a change of heart, and made up the part about the hand signal. No sign of that, either.

Look, I’m glad Jean doesn’t actually betray Locke, because as story turns go, that would have been at least as irritating as Ezri’s death, probably worse. But first you hit me with this bullshit flash-forward, then you double down on the bullshit by revealing the whole thing was just a trifling misunderstanding with no effing consequences whatsoever? What a waste of time.

… So yeah, on balance, I was not well pleased or amused by this sequence, especially as our hook into the main story.

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2016-12-21And now it’s time for another installment of Robinson Dissects the Ethics of the

Gentleman Bastard

Books. This week’s episode: Captain Zamira Drakasha Edition.

So yeah, Zamira is all kinds of awesome, but like with the other main characters, it’s best to turn one’s critical thinking off when thinking about her actions, or it becomes very hard to think of her as any kind of hero.

Case in point: she takes Locke, Jean, and the rest of their sorry crew onto her ship as probationary pirates. You do good, you play by the rules, you become full crew members; you step out of line, you die. All pretty standard stuff, except it turns out when she says she will kill you for breaking the rules, she means it.

One of the guys who originally signed on with Locke and Jean now despises the two of them intensely and is kind of an asshole in general, so the reader is primed to dislike him. He’s getting picked on by some of Zamira’s crew members, and finally he gets pushed too far and grabs a weapon to defend himself with. But laying hands on a weapon is against Zamira’s rules, so she has him executed on the spot. For the kind of mistake that anybody could make. And the reader is supposed to be okay with this because the guy was made to be unlikable. It could just as easily have been someone like Jean or Locke making a similar mistake, prompting Zamira to execute them, and the reader to hate her, in turn. We’re not invited to judge her character based on her actions, but on how we feel about the characters she acts against.

Later, there’s the time when we first see Zamira’s

Poison Orchid

attack a merchant ship, which involves pretending to be in peril themselves. As the pirates are preparing to board the ship, one of Zamira’s lieutenants tells the new recruits “if any of you are feeling moral qualms about attacking these merchants, just remember that they thought we were in distress, and only came to help us when we signaled we were willing to give them unconditional salvage rights.” Which, if you stop to think about it, is a

really

clever rationalization to psych people up to potentially commit an atrocity. I mean, if that were the point of the sequence—which it isn’t—I would’ve said it was brilliant. For all they know, the captain of the merchant ship was just a huge asshole, and literally everyone else aboard was clamoring to help the

Poison Orchid

right from the beginning.

It also seemed like, in the three way struggle between the Archon, Stragos; the proprietor of the big gambling den, Requin; and the members of the Priori; Stragos winds up being the Designated Villain of the book, not because his actions are worse than those of Requin or the Priori (we’ve already established they can be equally vicious), but because it happens to be Stragos’ actions which got Jean’s girlfriend killed. He gets punished, whereas Requin and the Priori members get happy endings, only because Stragos hurt someone the reader is supposed to care about.

Locke and Jean are quick to forgive the Priori member who was sending assassins after them because the Bondsmages told him the two Gentleman Bastards were going to cause him trouble. Which, okay, the assassins all failed, and all got killed, but by the logic of this story they were probably all Bad Men who deserved what they got, so no harm, no foul, right? Except, no, there

was

harm. One of the attempts to kill Locke and Jean was a really convoluted scheme to give them free drinks which were laced with poison. And the thing about convoluted schemes is that they’re full of holes, as in this one where Locke and Jean weren’t interested in the drink in question, and passed theirs on to the dockworker at the next table, who proceeded to die in their stead. No one in the story ever gets any kind of comeuppance for this murder, ‘cause I guess we’re not supposed to care about red shirts.

So basically, what I’m trying to say here is that the ethics of this series are all kinds of messed up if you look closely.

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Robinson L

at 00:00 on 2016-12-22

Cheriola: book 3, when encountering a random pair of gay lovers making out in a garden and being tempted to go through their discarded clothing for their wallets, he stops his kleptomaniac impulse by reminding himself that doing malice to happy lovers would be bad karma.

That was cute. Another very minor point I appreciated from that book was in a scene where Locke has to hold Sabetha as part of this play they’re performing and the narrator (speaking broadly from Locke’s perspective) talks about what it’s like for someone to hold another person whom they’re attracted to. It would have been

easy to gender the subject of attraction in that sentence as female, or to say something like “a person of the opposite sex whom they’re attracted to.” But no, it’s a general statement, and so the book sticks with generalities, not making stereotypes about the genders or orientations involved. Again, a minor point, but one I’ve seen even a lot of nominally well-intentioned works fail at, so I was mildly impressed.

I was genuinely amazed at Sabetha - she's the best feminist (NOT straw-feminist!) character I've ever seen a male author write.

I think it was this part which finally clinched it for me to read the series. As a male author myself, I can’t help but take it as a challenge.

As mentioned earlier, though, I feel like we didn’t get much sense of Sabetha’s internal life, except as it relates to Locke, and she has to tell Locke (and the reader) what particularly attracts her to Locke, rather than the book showing us.

It probably was implausible to have 16-year-old Locke be so receptive to Sabetha’s Feminism 101 lectures, but for me it was preferable to the second hand embarrassment of having Locke throw out insipid, MRA-apologist arguments for Sabetha to shoot down.

Since I’m not seeing a

Republic of Thieves

review on the horizon, I suppose I might as well give my thoughts on the book in general. Overall, I liked it, and Sabetha is a fine addition to the series’ cast.

I also kind of dug the way the main caper of the book was not a high stakes life or death game of taking on some brutal, affluent, entitled snot or other, but rather fixing an upcoming election. It shows you can have all the same drama and intrigue without putting countless lives on the line, which comes as a nice change of pace. (Granted, it turns out there are countless lives on the line in the Bondsmagi’s larger game, but that only comes up after the whole thing is over, so in my view it still counts.)

My political sensibilities being what they are, I particularly liked the election angle to the plot because the book depicts it as 1) an aristocratic exercise with no pretense of populist input (only a small fraction of the city’s residents have the franchise), and 2) a complete farce in any case, because who gets elected has f**k all to do with who’s better leadership material or has the best policies – the book dispenses with such preposterous fig leaves and dives straight into the real heart of electoral politics: naked corruption, double dealing, and general chicanery. There’s also the implication that who gets elected is ultimately trivial in terms of how Karthain is actually run, because the real ruling elite (in this case, the Bondsmagi), make damn sure that in practice, it gets run exactly the way they believe produces the greatest benefit for the city’s inhabitants. (The book seems to suggest that what they think is best for Karthain really is, which is where its views and mine diverge, but other than that, I’m completely on board with the book’s representation.)

Locke’s backstory seemed … really out of place. Given how magic has always taken such a tertiary role in the books up to that point, I didn’t expect it to play such a huge part in Locke’s past. This felt like the backstory to a character in a very different type of story, honestly. But other than that it’s just kind of, “whatever.”

#Ferretbrain #Wardog #Red Seas Under Red Skies #Scott Lynch #The Lies of Locke Lamora

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 6 years

Text

Becoming The Host

“The Author took up a new name when he realized that he wasn’t actually writing the stories. He realized that he was just a host to the guests in this world...”

Michael, the man known as The Author, finds destiny is something he can’t avoid. No amount of narrating skills can help him escape the fate someone else has decided for him.

Warnings of eye horror and mentions of blood and facial injury.

Word Count: 2,082

Michael was afraid of going blind.

He had been, ever since he was a child. Sometimes, he would wake up in the middle of the night and have to immediately turn on the light to make sure he could see anything but darkness. It was likely a result of something he had read in a horror novel he was likely far too young for, and it was something he forced himself to grow out of. It was silly and unreasonable. Even so, the thought was in the back of his mind, the fearful ‘what if’?

As he grew up, instead of cowering like he would have as a child, Michael faced it head on as a challenge in university. He taught himself braille. He researched how to navigate unknown areas with no sight. He even purchased technology to aid those with visual impairments when he had earned enough cash from his early publications. It did prove helpful, allowing him to adapt his craft for those who would normally struggle to access it, but it was his way of finding some sort of relief. If it ever happened, he would be ready. He would adapt, he would thrive.

And it worked. Soon, the fear faded to a passing thought on a rare occasion, and it would be silenced by Michael simply revising what he already knew by heart. He was the master of his fate. He could conquer any challenge if he could defeat a long-held fear.

The years went by. Michael fell in with a group of individuals collectively known as ‘Iplier Egos’ of some internet celebrity. It was dull for the writer, but it gave him plenty of inspiration for new pieces of work. Several prominent Egos became sources for short stories, and he soon knew them as well as Mark did. It was something he’d use to his advantage when in the building all the Egos frequented when summoned. Simple side comments, ‘accidental’ slips of tongue, the ominous ‘pen to paper’ threat without vocalising it, and the uncommon use of his preferred baseball bat. He never went as far as sticking Egos into a story (an act that could cause more trouble than it was worth) but he didn’t need to. In time, he became someone the others were wary of, and it was just how Michael liked it. The Author had no interest in running this ‘organisation’. All he wanted was the liberty to do what he wanted without anyone else thinking they could hold authority over him. Then again, there would always be an exception to that.

“Author.”

Dark approached calmly, hands behind his back. Even though his eyes didn’t leave the page of the classic novel he was reading, Michael was paying full attention.

“You have been threatening other Egos again.”

Michael only turned a page in response, not even bothering to grace Dark with an answer. Being ignored was something that irritated the entity, and the simple action was working wonders.

“We have a larger job at hand, and having you be nothing but a termite is only hindering matters.” Oh, Dark was even trying to keep calm. How adorable! At last, Michael put the bookmark in and placed the novel aside.

“You exaggerate. I have done nothing to put anyone in danger.” Michael pulled himself onto his feet to look Dark in the eye. How did anyone find the creature that was a mix of an emo kid and a broken TV scary? “Why waste your time interrogating me when we have a high-schooler threatening to stab anyone who goes near Bim? Or what about the android who almost shut down the entire internet system in the building because he was having a ‘bad day’? I imagine a man who only brandishes a baseball bat in self-defence is low on your list.” He stopped at that, the hint of a cocky grin beginning to form as he noted the visual hints that Dark was grasping to hold onto his composure. “Unless I hurt your widdle feelings by telling Wilford he can’t be a main character in a story I’ve been working on?”

“You know why I am here, Author. I do not approve of others attempting to seize control from under my nose.” Dark tilted his head left, then right; the second movement accompanied by an audible crack that made the aura ring out with a brief shriek.

“Who said anything about wanting control? I work alone. I’m only here because I’m forced to be here. I’m just making sure the others know to leave me be.” Before he could say more, Dark smirked.

“That is exactly what I mean, Author.” The entity took a step forward as he spoke. “You are here for a reason. You have a specific set of tasks you are to complete. Your actions are only interfering with the greater plan, which I believe I have already stated. You think you are the only one who watches everything that goes on around here, and knows how everyone else works. But I know you far better than you think I do. My normal tactics to keep others in line will not work on you, and I do commend you for that. It is not often I have to think outside the box.” Michael noted how sinister the smile on the entity’s lips was. Dark continued walking until the pair were face to face. “I know your weakness, Author. You have hidden it well from the world... But did you ever think it was there for a reason?”

“You bluff,” Michael smugly countered. “That sort of word play suggests I would let slip some deep, dark secret. You are getting me mixed up with another.”

“Oh, don’t play the fool. It is a role rather unsuited for one such as yourself. You would be much better to work alongside me, rather than opposing me. It is, after all, your destiny. Have you ever tried to look into that, Author? Surely one with powers such as yours attempted to peer into their future?” Michael’s current notebook and pen were in Dark’s hands, being offered as a friendly invitation.

“That isn’t how Narration works. I don’t set the future. I create the present.”

“Are you sure about that? I was led to believe that something that is created requires some sense of foresight.” Dark placed the writing utensils in Michael’s hands. “What if you are in a situation you cannot change? What if everything you have ever done was observation, and nothing more? All you write happens moments before you see it. Would it happen regardless?”

“Of course it wouldn’t. Don’t try to explain my own powers to me, Dark!”

“I am only making you see that you are viewing them incorrectly. Here... Let me provide a sense of illumination.”

With his right hand now free, Dark quickly reached out to grab Michael’s face, sharp nails digging into his temples. When the entity spoke again, his voice was low and sinister as it bounced around Michael’s head. Were Dark’s lips even moving?

“I know your fear. It is one you have always had, but could never say where it came from. It was something inevitable, Author. No matter how you try to hide, or try to deny it, you have spent your life preparing for your true purpose. All you have ever done is guide others as they continue their lives. You Narrate, yes, but you do not create their story for them. You are an idle bystander. Nothing more. Let us remedy this mistake on your part, shall we?”

Dark’s grip tightened, and all Michael could feel was pain. The hand blocked his vision, but he could feel something seeping into his eyes. He tried everything in his power to pull away, but Dark was stronger. Something was filling his head, making it feel heavy and bloated with pressure. It was numbing, cold. It was becoming difficult to think straight. The pain was constant. He lifted his hands, finally able to break through the icy wall of pain in his head and think coherently enough to grab Dark’s wrist to pry it off him. He could ignore both the burning sensation around his eyes and the iced pangs in his head. Yet, no matter how hard he tugged, the entity’s hand didn’t budge.

“Even now, you try and struggle. You are ignoring your fate. You were always meant to be a background character, Michael. No one was ever going to care about you, or your significance. I admire your stubbornness, but it is pointless and only causing needless pain. Your role in this world has been suitably adjusted to how it should be. A shame you could not simply co-operate. Such a shame...”

The pressure was lifted, and Michael opened his eyes. He hadn’t forgotten anything, nor did he feel any strange undying loyalty to the entity. Whatever Dark was trying to do failed! Yet, the other Ego looked calm, as though he knew something Michael didn’t. Something warm ran down his cheeks, and one hand slowly pressed against the cold skin to reveal he was bleeding from his eyes. Once he knew the entity wasn’t planning anything, he hurried to the bathroom to check his reflection.

The skin around his eyes was raw and clearly burned. It almost looked like a grotesque domino mask. A small section of hair appeared to have a hint of blond at the roots, which was a little strange. He always had dark hair. His hands lowered to rest on the counter, and he jumped in surprise as the pressure of holding a pen and notebook registered in his thawing mind. He found it easier to think after a few slow breaths. The notebook was opened to the back, and the pen was held in a trembling hand.

The Author knows all this will heal. Flesh wounds may scar, but the pain subsides. Dark’s tricks will not work on him. Dark never has scared him, and he never will. The Author

Something was wrong.

His vision was blurring. No amount of hard blinks could rectify this. His head lifted to the mirror, only to realise what was wrong. His eyes were changing. It was starting at the edges - a hint of black was beginning to seep across his pupils. His peripheral vision was fading as the black spread. It was almost like ink spilling across an empty page.

The Author can see. The Author’s eyes are reverting to their normal appearance.

It wasn’t working. A quarter of his vision in both eyes were gone. He was powerless to stop it.

“Did I forget to mention the change of role would be gradual?” Dark’s voice called from outside, taunting him and his supposed ‘fate’.

The Author makes sure he remembers this moment. Dark has no power over his mind. Dark cannot turn him into a pawn.

Those words brought comfort as the darkness continued to spread. He would save himself. He could do it.

His ability to Narrate remains unaffected by the changes. He just needs to allow himself a moment to figure out how to adapt them.

Blurry eyes quickly scanned that writing. It didn’t sound like his normal Narration, but it seemed to fit. It was growing harder to read the page. Everything was going out of focus. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop this. Even so, Michael looked at his reflection for what he knew would be the last time.

“He has prepared for this, as much as he loathes to admit it. Dark may have crippled him, but he has not been silenced. The Author may be dying, but he will change and still remain. He is not the mindless puppet Dark expected, one who is hollow and ready to obey. No... He observes, just like Dark said, and he is independent. He will adapt and thrive.”

He was no Author anymore. Could he even call himself ‘Michael’? He watched his reflection disappear into the darkness, accompanied by a resurgence of the pain engulfing his head. With a cry, he fell to his knees and passed out.

Michael was afraid of going blind.

It was unreasonable, and seemingly sourceless.

Maybe it was his destiny to lose his vision. Maybe it was some metaphor about being unbiased while Narrating. But he would not allow himself to be blind. No one controlled him. He was still his own individual.

He would adapt.

He would thrive.

#writersofmark #darkiplier #the author markiplier #the host markiplier #the host cyndago #(I spent an entire morning writing this; and an hour editing it just now.#Please give it a chance)#Narrating Alias (Author)#Cracked Mirror (Dark)#Blind Spite (Host)#eye horror tw #blood tw #facial injury tw

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laurelmylerauthor · 6 years

Note

Do you have any tips on writing a book with a large set/cast of characters?

*spits on hands* *rubs them together*

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Do I EVER.

Writing absurdly large casts of characters is my spiritual fuel. I could go on about it for centuries. Fun fact, I actually named all one hundred and six residents of Big City in City Ash and Desert Bones. Then I had to color-code them because I couldn’t remember who was related to who, lol.

Commence advice portion of post!

Here are my big three for large sets of characters:

1) Whose story is it?

You could have a cast of a thousand, and ultimately you’re still going to shake down to one protagonist. It’s inevitable that a single character’s actions are going to carry more weight for the story than any other. Think Frodo in Lord of the Rings. This doesn’t diminish the importance of other characters, but it does help you focus your attention appropriately.

If you’re not sure yet who the story belongs to, I would encourage you to write from several different POVs and see who stands out! When I started drafting The Life Spectacular, I had no intention of any one character occupying the spotlight, and the absolute last person I would have thought would take over that role was Sebastian. Six hundred pages later, five hundred of those pages are from his POV and the story revolves almost singularly around him.

2) D I S T I N C T I O N !

The only way I could emphasize that more would be to put it on a marquee with flashing lights. Your characters must be distinct. They should have discreet voices, personalities, appearances, ticks, and desires. No two people speak exactly the same way. No two people contain the same sort of energy.

Your characters’ dialogue is an easy way to create individuals who feel inherently different. Another is the way their fellow characters treat them. Another is their individual behavior, how they react to certain situations.

If you’re working on a piece where a few characters share similar amounts of page time, they all need to be developed to the same level. You as the author should understand everything there is to know about them. Personally, I fill out this questionnaire I posted to this blog last year. I do actually do this, and it does actually help.

3) Define character roles.

What purpose does each character serve in the story? Antagonist? Narrator? Support character? Background population?

Every single character must have a reason to be there. (Note: it is 100% acceptable if that reason is only “to flesh the world out.”)

Take your character from my first point and put them in the middle of a circle. That person is the epicenter of the story. Everything and everyone else radiates in rings of importance around them. Who is the next most pivotal character to the story? What is their relationship to the character in the center? Place them in the next layer around that center circle. Keep doing this, moving out a layer each time. Multiple characters can and should occupy the same layers, but only one can sit at the center.

Once everybody’s situated, you’ve got a nice little depiction for how much you ought to develop each character. Do note that as you move away from the center, characters will inevitably become more and more likely to be flat or static. That’s fine--good even, but you will need to ensure that each of these “outer layer” characters has recognizable qualities that will make them easy for readers to remember as they will be spending less time with them.

A final note:

Every character need not be nuanced and deep. Every character should not be nuanced and deep. I would wager that this applies to characters as early as layer three on your circle map.

TL;DR know where to focus your narrative lens, and learn where to focus it by doing a lot of character work.

Even a five-man band has a frontman.

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hillywooddestiel · 6 years

Text

Low Swings

Characters: Peter Parker x reader (platonic), Tony (briefly)

Warnings: there aren’t really any, just Peter feeling a little down I guess and lots of sarcasm

Word count: 1.6k

Description: When you work with a partner, it’s hard to prevent things from getting competitive. Things are no different in the world of superheroes. It may start as a silly race to see who is the best for the purposes of bragging rights but sometimes, the race can overtake your judgement.

A/N: Hello again! This is for two different challenges (@until-theend-oftheline Kari’s 1k MCU writing challenge and @hollandroos Soph’s 12k writing challenge). Congratulations to you both on the milestones and my prompts are in bold below. Little disclaimer, I wrote a Peter Parker fic a while ago and stole the reader character from that for her powers and personality. You can read it as a prequel, sequel whatever but the two stories are not linked. Enjoy xx Marvel Masterlist

Story:

“I got him!” Y/N speaks seemingly to no one while keeping her eyes locked on the man in the balaclava sprinting below her in the alley. She jumps gracefully from building to building with practiced ease, managing the large gaps like a child hopping across a small puddle. Her movement is reminiscent of a cat leaping from one climbing post to another.

“I thought you said I could get this one! I have to be able to tell Mr Stark I’m doing my job!” Peter whines into her earpiece, swinging from his webs a few blocks away. He was busy chasing down yet another bike thief across town when Karen informed him of a man armed with a gun escaping the scene of a robbery and that Y/N was on her way. No way was he going to let her get the guy first.

“And so do I! I can’t help it that I’m better than you.” She rolls her eyes, not that he can see but he should be used to it by now, before glancing back to see the red and blue clad hero getting closer. Immediately she picks up the pace in response, increasing the strain on her muscles and lungs. The pain she’ll feel tomorrow is worth it though, to get a ‘well done kiddo’ from Stark and rights to rub it in Parker’s smug face until the next time. The conviction tally currently stands 27:26 to Y/N. Not that anyone’s counting or anything like that.

“Please! I’ll do your homework for a week.” He pleads, the thwip of his web shooters audible in the background through the earpiece.

“Sure, cos I want lower grades than I’m currently getting.” Y/N taunts. Spotting a chance to get closer, she leaps down to a rusty fire escape and swiftly descends the ladder. Upon hearing her footsteps clanging on the metal, the criminal’s eyes widen in fear and he speeds up. Somebody wasn’t expecting super heroes to be in the area.

“I’ll buy you a pizza!”

“Tempting but no.”

“I’ll stop calling you Frazzles!”

“No! You’re not having this one!”

“Aw come on Frazzles!” Peter takes a break on top of a satellite tower to watch the chase and plan his next move. Y/N is quickly gaining on the guy despite not having the same enhanced capabilities as Peter (such as his stamina and speed) and she hasn’t even had to zap him yet with one of her self-produced lasers- show off! Amazingly, this thief is still going after running from the scene of the robbery nearly twenty minutes ago (most people get tired after five or make a mistake with a wrong turn that lands them in the arms of the police or a sticky web). Perhaps they’re one of the various people with powers emerging across the city.

Peter spies an opportunity coming up ahead on the next turn to land him the capture and immediately swings in it’s direction. Y/N notices his change of course straight away in her peripheral vision.

“Spidey, what are you doing?” she asks, mentally kicking herself for not being suspicious of the radio silence. Silence often- scratch that- always means he’s up to something.

“My job!” He grunts with the effort, swinging feet first into Y/N and knocking her flying sideways. She lands inside an open locker unceremoniously on her ass with a crash. Only Peter misjudged the strength needed to sabotage his partner and flies in after her, landing on top of her in fact, with the metal door hinges whining shut. The lock clicks, trapping them inside.

“Ah my ankle!” He hisses into the pitch black.

“Oh boo hoo! At least you didn’t have a 200 pound spider kick you in the chest and land on top of you!” Y/N huffs aggressively, smacking him over the head to get him to move.

“I can’t see.”

“Great detective work genius! Hang on…” Y/N scowls, producing light from her hands as easy and taking a breath. The locker is very small leaving little to no room for personal space and it stinks like an unattended public toilet.

“Mr Stark is not gonna be happy with us…”

“Us? I’m sorry, how did we end up locked in here? Oh that’s right; you attacked me!”

“I was just trying to get you out of the way so I could get the guy first. I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. You didn’t focus on the mission, you focused on beating me. Not everything is a contest Parker.” Y/N’s voice softens. She looks to Peter noticing his downtrodden attitude.

“I just… I really want to impress Mr Stark. If I do really well, he might actually make me an Avenger for real.”

“Peter…” she starts, feeling guilty for snapping at him earlier.

Peter always says he wants to be an Avenger, ever since he came back from Germany, it’s a constant thing. Y/N was offered the chance to go as well but she was so close to busting a drug ring in the city that she had to turn it down (she also didn’t want to join in the fight for Tony’s sake since she actually sided with Steve). Once they returned home, Stark introduced her to Peter as someone to work with but also as someone to keep a close eye on. Things soon inevitably became competitive between the pair.

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m about to say this… you can get the next one.” Peter’s head perks up from where it was rested in his hands.

“Wait really?”

“Really. Now let’s get out of here.” Y/N turns to face the door again. She takes a deep breath, focusing her energy on her outstretched palm and feeling the warmth concentrating in the center. The soft light becomes a streamlined beam and slices through the metal door like a hot knife through butter. Her line is shaky but eventually she cuts out a small doorway allowing herself and Peter to escape their dank prison.

Avoiding the burning white melted metal, the duo step out into the alley again, the criminal they were chasing nowhere to be seen. Typical- they never stick around for their local crime fighters and wait to be caught. The only life in the shady corner is a stray black and white kitten.

“Where do you think he went?” Peter asks, scanning the nearby area for heat signatures with the help of his suit.

“I dunno! I’ll interrogate the cat.” Y/N kneels down and coaxes the kitty over by clicking her tongue, stroking it’s fluffy fur gingerly with her outstretched hand, “Hey buddy, are you lost? Can we help you find your home?”

“It’s a stray Frazzles. Keep stroking it and it’ll follow us home.” Peter rolls his eyes behind his mask.

“Do you need a home? You can come with me if you want.” She smiles as the kitten purrs in her hand, her voice becoming increasingly more babyish.

“Y/N! Let’s go!”

“Hold on!” She scoops up the ball of fur, “Consider this mission a success, we saved Catasha Meowmanoff from a life on the streets.”

“Your mom isn’t going to let you keep it ya know?”

“That’s why she’s not going to find out. And you’re not going to tell her!” Y/N warns Peter, a threatening tone detectable in her voice as she lowers the kitten to the floor. She prowls around the bedroom floor and sniffs the hanging bed sheets with uncertainty, tiny claws catching on the soft carpet. A flash of red catches her eye and she pounces on it, swatting at the light with her little paws in the hopes of capturing it. The said light originates from Peter’s suit and he grins like a child as Catasha almost climbs the wall to get at the laser.

“Ok, I’ll admit she’s pretty cute.”

“See!” Y/N grins victorious, ”… But it goes without saying, no one is to find out about the name. Especially Natasha. I’d like to keep my head attached to my shoulders.” Y/N absentmindedly rubs her hand over the back of her head, right over the spot when Nat last swatted her with a magazine (she set Nat’s ringtone to ‘Black Widow’ by Rita Ora and the world class assassin heard it go off when they both happened to be at the compound at the same time).

“I think she’d probably kill me too so yeah, deal.” Peter scratches Catasha behind her ears, knowing very well of Natasha’s capabilities. But, as much as he would love to play with a ball of fur, there are people to save and crimes to stop so he has to leave. Mask on, Peter steps out onto the fire escape outside Y/N’s bedroom window just as he gets an incoming call alert for Tony Stark.

“Peter! I trust you and Sunshine are playing nicely. I have a new job for you two, organised gang fights in condemned buildings near you. You are still interested in helping out the ‘neighborhood’ as a ‘friendly’ crime fighter, right?” He can tell there were some air quotes made on Tony’s end of the line.

“Yeah yeah y-yeah I’m-I- we’ll get on it right away Mr Stark, sir.”

“Mrrow!”

“What was that?”

“A cat. Stray cat. Not a house cat, a stray cat. Stray, not a pet.” Peter fumbles with his words while Y/N glares at him with eyes begging him to shut up.

“Right… keep up the good work kid.” Tony hangs up; he’s a busy man after all. Looking to Y/N through the mask, his white spider eyes widen.

“We’ve got another job to do.”

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