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trek-tracks · 4 years

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Thoughts on Picard S1

I’m glad to have been able to watch Picard. Stewart’s great. I’m happy the show exists. The Troi-Rikers, Hugh, and Seven were wonderful to see. As a caveat, a) my expectations were sky-high, and b) I wound up watching it online with people who liked to snark, and two or three of them were serious haters, so this perhaps coloured my watching experience.

I just...I wanted to care more.

I like the new characters enough, and Elnor in particular is very sweet, but I still don't know enough about them because the show had no room to breathe. We needed more silly/serious, in-between episodes to develop the characters, when it's not just trying to serve an overarching giant plot. A lot of the character development (Jurati and Maddox, Rios and his captain) felt like it existed mainly because it could move the plot along, which leads to a tighter season, but a somewhat emptier one. We did get “filler,” but it was filler where characters repeated things we already knew to other characters, so the filler was mostly plot-based, not character-based.

The problem with doing that, especially when we have a small number of characters that are known quantities, is that we SO disproportionately care about the TNG/VOY characters that the others seem like...not filler, but distractions from those we really care about. I’ve talked about this before in my review of a TOS book, which had a one-off romance character attached to one of the Triumvirate. We tend not to care about those romances much, focusing on the friendships that have been built up over years. This isn’t because the new character is bad, but because of the Character Fondness Power Differential (a term I made up).

(serious spoilers below the cut)

That’s why the scene with Picard agreeing to shut Data off hits right in the gut, because we care about these characters equally, and we care about their pain equally.

It’s not that we don’t care about Raffi, Rios, Agnes…it’s that we care SO much about Picard, that when he dies (and we pretty much know that, with Picard Season 2 greenlit, we can’t fully give over to grief because something’s going to happen to cause him to be able to participate) we’re focusing on our own grief, not the grief of these characters who are still pretty new in our hearts. (Okay, Babey Elnor crying was pretty sad.) Why do they get to have the grief, we wonder, since we feel we’ve known him longer than they have? It’s like having the UberEats guy give your aunt’s eulogy because she ordered in a lot in her last month.

I did feel those big feelings I was looking for in the episode with the Troi-Rikers, and when Picard and "Data" were interacting (I really enjoyed Nepenthe, and Kestra, and I’ve made my peace with all that added semi-necessary angst). Seeing Riker in the Captain’s chair was awesome, though we really could have used a “Riker sit” of him getting into it.

Despite the beauty of Picard and Data’s final conversation, though, I really don't think we needed to experience Data's death again, "but for real this time." It's like, it already hurts! He was already dead! It was emotional, and sweet, and fine, but ouch. I know Spiner doesn't want to play him anymore, which I absolutely get and appreciate, but it sort of felt like stomping on the fans so nobody would ask him to do it again. I still love Data forever. I kind of wish he’d gotten to talk to Hugh or Elnor. There was no scene of Elnor getting to meet Spot II. I wanted to riot.

I’m glad they didn’t fridge her, but it was less than impressive that nobody even mentions Bev, Picard's best friend and confidante on the Enterprise - not even Troi, Bev’s other best friend. Yes, that could have easily changed over decades, but I’d like to know why - I can’t tell if they’re saving her for next season, or if they just really don’t care about her, and I’m scared it’s the latter. I did, for a moment, think that if they really were going to kill Picard, technically in at least one future there’s a Captain Beverly Picard…so she could have taken over and the title would still work.

I do like what they did with Seven, and I’m thankful they gave her a complex role and are letting her be happy enough. Her grief over Icheb felt real; it hurt less for me, due to his actor’s phenomenal crappiness, but man, did it have to be so graphic? The brief second of a budding Seven and Raffi romance was cool - wlw Seven! To build up to that, they could really have showed them together grieving first, rather than splitting them up for those scenes. That way, they could have at least one more interaction that would support a flirtation. (It still makes more fucking sense than Seven and Chakotay.) It’s great that we got such a range of female characters, and (almost) none of them died to create manpain. (Sorry, Dahj. Alas.)

However, killing Hugh, the show’s ray of hope, was a really cheap shot for shock value; I spent at least two episodes hoping that he would be brought back, somehow. They seem to have developed something potentially meaningful between him and Elnor, both patron saints of lost causes, but it seems like 90% of those scenes hit the cutting room floor, so it was unclear what was going on in the finished product, and how and why they bonded. Hugh was the hope of rebuilding, and I feel like he was meaninglessly sacrificed for evil when he could have been used symbolically for good. Even if his story in relation to Picard ends in Season 1 - let him continue his work. Because that’s what Star Trek is all about, right? Continuing the Great Work. Seven, Hugh and Elnor could have been the most adorable family. Raffi could come too.

The Romulans seemed to backslide into more cartoonish villains, when the show could have been used for development and depth. The Romulannister incest overtones were unpleasant. What the hell happened to Narek at the end of the last episode? The writers just seemed to forget about him. Is he still on Coppelius (I still can’t get over that symbolic name, and “A.I” Soong)? Did they let him go on a ship? Is he in jail? Did they let him wander off, because they forgot he existed? Did he start a new career as a Disco Spock impersonator? We also didn’t see Narissa’s body, so who knows if she’ll be back again. If she comes back instead of Hugh…sigh.

It will be interesting to see how they deal with Picard as a synth. I hope that they don’t just totally let it fade into the background, treating it as a “first season problem” solution, and actually give it practical or philosophical implications. (Someone in my chat, seeing Picard and Data in the “quantum simulation,” said that it looked like we were about to get a Trek version of The Good Place, and I was so into that idea I almost gasped.)

In short, I had a bunch of issues with the season, I’m still feeling warm overall, and looking forward to boldly going into season two - but maybe at a slower pace. Warp 2 instead of Warp 9?

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nelllraiser · 4 years

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last shadow on the sun | bea, luce, blanche, winston, & nell

PREVIOUSLY: Plot Drop Page, Plot Overview

LOCATION: Bea’s Necromancy Clearing

TIME: the summer solstice, 10:07 PM

PARTIES: Bea Vural, Luce Vural, Blanche Harlow, Winston Dane, Nell Vural

CONTENT: Sibling Death mention, Body Horror, Torture

“I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave.” – Horace

The eye in Winston’s hand itched. It always seemed to itch whenever they were doing something that they should be worried about. Winston couldn’t explain it, but now that they were stuck with the eye and it didn’t look like it was going anywhere anytime soon. They were the first to the clearing, they were early and they were waiting when the others arrived. Sitting cross legged, staring at their third eye. They had drawn the circle and Winston had prepared the altar. “I think that I have everything ready, apart from you know the body and the sacrifice.” Winston was nervous. They’d done this so many times and it didn’t always work. They’d never even tried human sacrifice and resurrection and they could only imagine the risks surrounding it. “We’re bringing her back tonight, no matter what happens we’re bringing her back.” It was a promise to themselves. A promise to Bea.

“Stop moving.” Luce said sharply to August. Since she’d picked him up from Lydia’s home, since he’d willingly stepped into the back of her car, she had him completely under her thumb. The power of it all was… intoxicating, in a way. Absolute control. Complete obedience. The memory of seeing Lydia kiss him, seeing the fight fade from his limbs, that troubled her. With a shake of her head, she kicked the man in the stomach abruptly. He let out a reedy groan of pain and she knelt by his side. “I thought I told you to be quiet. But, you know… it’s fine. No one’s out here to hear you scream.” She shrugged before standing back up to regard Winston and the altar they and Nell had prepared. She’d stayed out of it, not wanting to risk ruining the delicate circle with a slip of her hand or a candle out of place. “Well. I’ve got the sacrifice taken care of. We’ll have no problems from him.” She said before her lips pressed together to form a firm, determined expression. “Whatever it takes, we’re bringing her back.” She echoed.

Tonight was the night. The culmination of all they had done had led them here, and keeping with the theme of their practicing Nell’s focus was front and center, not willing to let anything get in her way of bringing Bea back to them. She would rise, and she’d be whole and proper and the wrong that had been laid on the world by Bea’s passing would be righted, the balance kept by sacrificing August. It hadn’t been a coincidence that they’d chosen today, the summer solstice. Bea had been a light in many people’s lives, acting as a guiding sun. Looking over the altar for what had to be the millionth time, she went back over to August, simply standing in front of him for a long moment. Was he present enough to know that he was going to die? She hoped he was— she hoped he’d feel that same impending sense of inevitability she had when Montgomery had been standing over her, maybe even when the man had claimed Bea’s head for his own. Whatever he was feeling, she hoped he was scared in addition to this unquestioning obedience. Wordlessly, she kicked his knees out from under him, watching the man stumble to the ground before giving him a swift kick to the side. “Whatever it takes, we’re bringing her back,” Nell echoed before looking to where they’d placed Bea’s body on the altar, her head carefully turned towards the East, clumsily connected to her neck with some long strips of cloth. “Let’s get ‘round the circle,” she said before taking her place alongside the marks in the dirt.

After weeks of anger and sorrow, Bea was finally calm. This night would determine if she was coming back. She had seen the work the three spellcasters had done and it was impressive for people new to the craft. They could have waited longer, perfected it, but with the summer solstice, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Circling the alter, she looked on with critical eyes. They had followed her advice carefully. It looked good, but she didn’t allow that to spark unwarranted hope. Anything could go wrong with a ritual like this, even with her soul being willing and nearby. She had her fail-safes. Nic ready to get rid of her if she came back monstrous and her own willingness to ask Blanche to get rid of her ghost if the ritual failed. She refused to be a ghost forever and she refused to allow her sisters to attempt this again. Finally pausing in her circle, she stopped in front of August. She looked at him for a long moment before phasing her hand through his skull. Blanche had told her that it was unpleasant to touch a ghost and Bea couldn’t hit him as her sisters could. “You are a pathetic little worm, aren’t you?” She asked him, voice rough but soft, though she knew that he couldn’t hear her. “Blanche, can you ask Luce to crush his fingers for me? And tell him it’s from me. Just because he gets the honor of being my sacrifice doesn’t mean we have to honor him with a soft death.”

Blanche stood to the side, almost awkwardly as she watched the preparation. There was nothing else she could do now, other than translate and wait for Bea to rise after they were done. To see what she would tell Nic. She knew he was nearby, lying in wait for the all clear from Blanche in case something went wrong. Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes on Bea as she flitted about the circle, examining it. Blanche had paid no mind to August this time, watching as he obeyed Luce utterly and completely, blankly. A means to an end, she thought bitterly. She only winced when Bea shoved a hand through his skull, looking away as August shivered from the touch. “Hm?” Blanche glanced at Bea, frowning slightly at the request, before considering. “Bea has a request,” Blanche said, her tone soft as she wrapped her arms around herself. She glanced at Nell, and then to Luce. “Crush his fingers. Make his death hurt. Make him feel it.”

Listening closely to what Blanche had to say in terms of Bea's request, Winston was once more torn by August's involvement. They understood the magic. They understood that this was something that they needed to do and they understood that it was his life for Bea's and since he was the one who had started all of this it was only fair that it was him who sacrificed everything. But there was something that still left a sour taste in Winston's mouth. They were all too familiar with that quote about digging two graves when you went out seeking revenge. But enough was enough. They had lost too much. They were bringing Bea back. The cost wasn't important. "Have we got the personal item of Bea's?" Winston asked, knowing that they definitely did, but they were nervous and making sure that everything was in order was easier then just sitting there and doing nothing. Since they had meticulously checked the set up of the ritual a thousand times -- or so -- this was the only thing that Winston really felt like they could do.

Luce watched as August convulsed slightly, his expressionless face shifting one of discomfort and revulsion. Bea. She shifted her gaze over to Blanche, watching the way the younger woman seemed to hug herself. A part of her felt for the medium. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have to witness this. But, she was their only way of keeping in contact with Bea and, without her, they wouldn’t have been able to do this. They would have lost her. But, that didn’t mean she needed to see this. At her words, Luce cleared her throat, looking down at the exhausted, pitiful man. “August. You can scream now. You can hurt. I want you to feel every ounce of pain and scream for us. Like your life depends on it.” She said before stomping the heel of her shoe into the purple, ruined mess of his hand. An inhuman howl was torn from the man’s throat, piercing through the relative silence of the clearing. She ground her foot down, twisting for good measure before flicking her hair back from her face. “Let’s get him in position.” She said before she took her place at the circle.

Nell’s smile widened as Luce gave her command to August. That would make things much more fun. Hearing him hurt and yell was much more satisfying than watching him simply take it. As for making it hurt...she’d been planning on just that. Years of pent up bitterness between her and August were ready to spring forth from her, brought into a point by Bea’s death, and the contract he’d taken out on Nell. She tried to find that same kernel of magic she’d used when hurting Montgomery and Kaden, still not entirely sure what it had been, but knowing enough that it brought pain. Instead of letting it flood through her, she only allowed a bit of it to pass through, aiming it towards August, thinking of Bea’s request, hoping it would guide the magic. In response, the fingers on August’s other hand bent back on themselves grotesquely, flat against the back of his palm. Deliciously satisfied, Nell settled herself in her position once more before centering August where he needed to be with her hands, being none too gentle. “We’ve got the item of Bea’s.” Then she took off the locket of Bea’s that she’d been wearing around her neck since her sister had died. She’d liked having it as a reminder, something to make sure she didn’t forget exactly what they were working towards, and how they’d gotten here. Handing it to Luce, it wasn’t long before the witch had burnt it to a crisp, who then gave the ashes back to Nell. Spreading them around the circle and letting the ritual begin.

A satisfied smile took over Bea’s face as she watched her sisters take turns hurting August. This was all his doing, she felt no ounce of remorse for the torture he was going through before his death. She watched as her sisters burnt her locket, a necklace she hadn’t taken off for years. It had been filled with pressed flowers from their childhood garden and had always been there as a way to keep her sisters close to her heart. As they began to scatter the ashes, she looked toward Blanche,“Tell Nell to make sure it’s an even spread.” As far as she had read it would make it much easier to bond her soul and body if there was a good distribution. She floated over to her body then, staring down at the grotesque thing. Five weeks dead did not make a pretty sight. It made her nauseous to think of the changes her body had gone through. Imagining things crawling through her and decaying her flesh would have brought bile up if she had been capable of it. “Light the candles counterclockwise now. Start from the east most candle.” The ritual was a slow process, but she could already feel the coil of anticipation in her stomach. Soon they would be making their sacrifice.

A huge knot of anticipation had wound itself up in the pit of Blanche’s stomach. Anxiety that wasn’t quieted as August screams ripped through the air. Vengeance. August Thompson signed his life away the second he tried to sign Nell’s. She felt no mercy for him or for his screams. A part of her wondered if she should feel something, anything, as she looked at him writhing in agony, forced to follow Luce’s orders. A means to an end, Blanche reminded herself. Her eyes flickered to Bea’s ghosts. “Bea says to spread the ashes evenly,” Blanche said, with a quiet sigh. “And to light candles starting counterclockwise. Starting from the candle furthest to the east.” She bit her lip, pushing her hair back out of her face before she addressed Bea herself. “Bea, come here. Stand by me so you don’t hover too close.” Blanche said quietly. “Let them work, they know what they’re doing.” It would be hard enough anyway. Blanche watched moments longer, before she made the decision to turn around, turn her back on the ritual proceedings. It didn’t do much to stifle the feeling in her, but it would make sure she didn’t end up throwing up everywhere.

Swallowing, Winston looked at what they were doing to August and tried not to react. It was sadistic. The pleasure that the sisters were appearing to take in August’s suffering. There wasn’t a doubt in their mind that August deserved this, but Winston was consumed with guilt. Glancing over at Blanche, Winston locked eyes with her for a moment before taking a breath. This was their decision and they weren’t backing down now. Celeste was dead. Bea had been taken from them. They had saved the town but now literally had a third eye in their hand. They’d been forced to burn Selkie pelts for Ricky, to say goodbye to beings who had been ruthlessly hunted. This was their chance to give something back and maybe reset the balance, even if it was just a little. Winston followed Blanche, well, Bea’s instructions and lit the candles as they were instructed, starting at the east and working their way around.

Once the others had completed lighting the candles, Luce poured gin from a flask on her hip into the silver chalice that rested on the altar. The scent of gin filled the air and she muttered the words they’d all practiced countless times over the chalice, handing it to Nell to do the same. The ashes had been scattered, the candles lit, and the offering made. Luce refused to look at her sister’s ruined body and where it lay in the circle-- not until Bea was back. Not until she was here with them all would she look at her sister. Because… if it went wrong, if the resurrection didn’t work, she didn’t want her last memory of Bea to be this decayed corpse before them. No, she would hold onto the memories of her sister from before. Swallowing, Luce prepared herself mentally for the ritual. She needed to be present, needed to be here with the other two. She couldn’t do what they did, didn’t understand the intricacies of the circle or the marks or the words they said. She could only provide the fuel, the extra magical energy they would need to bring Bea back. Next to her, August shivered in fear, though he didn’t make a sound. Good. He could save his screams for what was to come.

Nell accepted the chalice as she chanted, still never sure what to make of Bea speaking through Blanche even though it had been weeks at this point. She wanted to hear her sister’s words in person, to know the rise and fall of her voice once again rather than get them secondhand. Of course she was endlessly grateful to Blanche for what she was doing, what she’d done, but it simply wasn’t the same as having her sister next to her, creating the words of her own will. Once Nell had finished with the chalice, she passed it over to Winston, feeling her magic beginning to flow as the ceremony truly began. They were here not to create new life, but to restore it, to bring it back from whence it had been wrongly robbed. To breathe life back into her sister, to bring the warmth back to the home, and reignite the hearth. These were the thoughts that filled Nell, though they were colored by darkness around the edges whenever she chanced a look at August. They were also here to exact retribution, to right a wrong and restore the balance in that way as well.

It was difficult to move away from her body. Bea wanted to stay near herself and make sure she didn’t fall into ruin anymore than she already had. She looked wrong like this, but Blanche was right, she had to trust them. She floated over to Blanche, humming as she came to a stop near her. “I don’t know what it’ll be like when they pull me back into my body. I’ve read some people felt it was calm or nothing at all. Others described it as agonizing. I’m not sure what will happen.” She didn’t say it to scare the young woman, but rather prepare her for what could be seen or heard later. As the chanting started, she felt a pull in her chest. It was faint, but she could feel it getting stronger. She smiled slightly as the magic flowed between them all. She hadn’t felt it since she died, but now she was in it. It was a breath of fresh air to feel magic once again.

Blanche glanced at Bea as she spoke. She had wondered what it would feel like to see someone’s soul pulled away - whether or not it would be anything like it was when they moved on past this plane of existence or if it would feel violent. Blanche swallowed hard, and nodded. “Whatever happens…” Blanche said, her throat closing slightly. She glanced over her shoulder, back at the ritual, before looking at Bea. “They’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you. And may you go in peace, Bea.” Blanche said. “I’ll see you on the otherside.”

Winston watched the chalice as it was passed across to them. They’d long ago memorised the words to this specific ritual and they pronounced every phrase flawlessly. They’d practised this for hours. They weren’t going to make any mistakes that would risk Bea’s return. There was a tension in the air. August lay there. Blanche wasn’t looking at them and honestly Winston couldn’t blame her. Their glasses were slowly sliding down their nose but they didn’t have time to push them back up as they grasped the chalice and continued their chant. A thin bead of sweat rolled down their jawline. Winston knew it was now if they were going to back out. But they didn’t hesitate. No matter how much they wanted to not kill this poor evil bastard, Winston knew that this was the only way. Bea had to come back. Finishing their part of the ritual, they set the chalice down. Knowing that what was coming next was the part that worried them the most.

Watching as the chalice made its way around them, Luce took a deep breath, steadying the magical energy that lay within her. As she did so, as she began to focus on the power within her, she felt Iggy still in her pocket, the warmth of the fire salamander growing and receding in time to her breathing. This wasn’t fire, it wasn’t the usual magic that they practiced together. But, he was her focus, her familiar, and he was family. Looking over at Nell, at Winston, at Blanche… Her mind went back to the conversation she’d had with Winston. They were all family. In all but name. They’d see this through, in the name of family. Reaching out, Luce took hold of Nell and Winston’s hands as she chanted in unison with the others. Her magic threatened to overflow, to pour out of her in a torrent of energy, but she held it back. A trickle to begin with, just enough to allow the others to adjust to the output. And then, when it was all in place, she’d push as much magic into the ritual as she could. It had to work. This had to work.

Nell could feel their magic energy swirling within the circle, relatively contained for the time being as she made sure to focus their energies in the right place. She was providing energy as well, but she also needed to focus it, to make sure the magic slid into the proper nooks and crannies and followed their intentions to a tee so that everything went to plan, so that she got her sister back. So that she could once again have each of their hands in her’s to face the world together. But for now the hands she was holding were Winston and Luce’s as their power continued to grow. And then— it was time. Time to take back whatever power August had stolen from them, to erase the ugly stain he’d made on their lives. Time for the sacrifice. There was no reverence in this one, not like how Nell usually made her sacrifices. August wasn’t worthy of that. The life within him might be worthy of respect, but not what he’d made of it, not what he’d done with it. She raised the athame, looking straight into August’s eyes as she continued her chanting, wishing she could make this hurt. But for the ritual it needed to be neat and quick, and though she wanted her revenge on August to be long and fulfilling, she wanted Bea back more. The blade fell, making a neat, and perfect line across August’s neck as ruby red drops began to fall. As she spread the sacrifice carefully, she swore she could feel the life leaving him, pooling and preparing, looking for a place to go. They would give it that place. With the same knife, she cut her palm, painting her fingers with her own blood before rising from her spot to approach Bea’s body. Carefully, she drew the soul binding symbol on Bea’s side, at the very top of her ribcage. And thus, the ritual was completed, one final thought pushing the rest of the magic forwards. Come back to us. Please.

Bea watched with a certain amount of glee as Nell slid the knife across August’s neck. This was power. This was absolutely brilliant power. She could not control herself now as she left Blanche’s side, the pull in her chest impossible to ignore now as Nell sliced her palm open. As the Mark was placed in her skin, Bea felt herself pushed back into her still healing body. She could feel as the flesh of her neck began to stitch itself back together. The decay that bloated and twisted her being forced out with magic. She could feel it all but she could not open her eyes to see. She could not move at all. She was stuck in her body, unable to command it. Her mind raged as she attempted to force control that would not come so soon. She could feel her heart begin to beat, begin to race as panic flooded through her. She was supposed to be able to move already. Her tests had moved quickly after the ritual. Something was wrong. She was trapped within her own body. How would they know that she was stuck in here? They would think they failed and she would be stuck in her own body forever.

Winston felt it before they saw it. The power, the energy that flowed through them. Through Luce, into Winston and then onto Nell and then back around. The loop of power running through itself over and over again. The energy flow was addictive and Winston felt it. A drip. Drip. Drip. Then the collar of their shirt began to soak through and Winston felt their body temperature skyrocket. The phone in their pocket began to vibrate and heat up and Winston refused to let go of Luce or Nell’s hands but they could feel sweat pouring out of them. The energy, the fatigue, the new sensation, it was almost all too much. Then the energy began to build inside of them and Winston felt the heat physically radiate off of them. They struggled to center themselves, to find the inner serenity that they relied on. Looking down at their shirt, Winston spotted the blood, and then looked at Bea. Had it worked? Was this … was this normal?

Power. It was all she could provide, it was all that Luce was good for. She knew that, she’d always known that, which is why the moment Nell drew the mark on Bea’s side, the moment she’d felt the pull of the magic, she’d given in completely. She threw all of her magic into the ritual, fueling it, letting it rush into Nell and Winston and spurring it on as the energy circulated round and round among them. It poured into the circle, flooded into Bea’s body. Rage, anger, fear, and overwhelming love rushed over her as she continued to throw everything she had into the ritual. A bite of pain sprang forth from the left side of her neck and she felt something warm trickle against her skin, staining the collar of her shirt. Ignoring it, she continued to focus on giving the others everything she had left in her. Her breathing, calm and even became ragged, stuttering while a dull aching pain filled her left arm. Against her leg, she felt Iggy squirm, but she ignored him. All that mattered was Bea.

Nell’s gaze was trained solely on Bea, willing her to rise with a desperation that was unmatched by anything else in her life. It took her a long moment to register something warm dripping down her neck, and her concentration on her sister’s was momentarily broken by her confusion. When her hand came away from her neck washed in new blood, she didn’t understand where it had come from until she looked up at Luce and Winston. Lines. Lines of blood across all three of their necks that mirrored the one that had ended Bea’s life, that had been drawn across her own throat. “Something’s wrong,” Nell said instinctively, knowing this shouldn't be part of it. And there was still too much magical energy diving through the air, moving around each and every one of them. It should have been gone, the ritual over now. A moment after the worrisome realization had sprung from her, Nell let out a surprised cry of anguish, pain erupting at the end of her fingertips from which she’d drawn the symbol with, and where she’d wielded the knife. It took a long moment for her to realize what was happening, the picture of the very skin of her fingers peeling back on itself being too surreal to immediately process. Soon enough, the pieces of flesh were ungluing themselves from her at an even faster rate, revealing blood red sinew underneath them as the unimaginable pain began to rise to her wrists.

Bea wanted to scream, she could feel the pressure on her chest. She needed to scream. And so she did. Her mouth snapped open and a rasping scream left her. Her fingers and toes curled and finally her eyes opened. Bea could not remember why she was on the altar. She could only remember the barest of moments. A sword. Blanche. Wandering. Felix. She had been a ghost. She knew she had died. But she did not know how long she had been dead for. Her body succumbed to her commands now and she curled into herself, before looking up at the group surrounding her. Her eyes were blurry, but it didn’t take too long for her to understand what was happening around her. Something had gone wrong. They all were suffering. “Blanche,” She croaked out. “They’re dying.” Her voice was cracked, ragged, a whisper that she couldn’t seem to make louder. She had to wonder if her voice was going to be scarred like this forever. She pulled herself from the alter, but as she went to stand she was reminded of the wounds over her feet. Letting out a hiss of pain, she fell to her knees, crawling to Luce. “Luce. Luce,” She cried desperate. “Nellie,” She called next looking around wildly unable to focus her eyes long enough to find her.

She was back. The scream cracked Winston’s focus and they snapped out of the ritual that they had been so intent on completing. Now that it was done, and now that Bea was back, Winston felt as if they had a thousand volts flowing through them. Their phone was hotter then ever now and it almost felt like it was expanding a little but Winston ignored it. Sweat poured down their neck and back and they snapped to attention. As Bea fell to her knees Winston raced over to her, completely ignorant of the fact that there was something wrong with Nell or Luce, completely ignorant of the fact that there was something wrong with them. Bea was back. They’d done it. Joy filled their veins and they skidded to a stop on their own knees, wrapping an arm gently around Bea. “Hey, Bea, it’s fine don’t worry, Luce is …” Winston went to look at Luce and immediately knew that something was wrong, trying to stumble to their feet with Bea wrapped over their shoulder, Winston lurched towards Luce, “fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Luce. Blanche, please HELP.” Tears sprung to their eyes. They hadn’t gone this far. They hadn’t done all of this to lose Luce now.

As she watched Bea’s body begin to shift, her knees curling in toward her chest, as though she’d only been sleeping, a wave of relief rushed over Luce. She was alive. She was back. She was safe. Luce did her best to smile at her sister, tears filling her eyes. But, her smile faltered. The magic that she’d been so focused on using to drive the ritual onwards, it was still flowing out of her. And, for the first time since she was a child, she could feel it seering against her. A foreign heat, snapping and wild, lashed out at her and scorched the skin of her chest. Her arms ached and fell to her sides as she was brought to her knees, her breaths coming in halting gasps. A pressure, heavy and unyielding, it weighed heavily upon her as she struggled to remain upright. Her vision began to go black around the edges, what little she could see an unfocused blur. She gasped for air, trying to will stubborn lungs to motion. All in vain. Darkness closed in and Luce collapsed to the ground. The last thing she remembered was seeing Bea and Winston, rushing towards her.

The feeling of Bea’s soul faded away completely, and all was silent. Something’s wrong. Blanche whirled around just as Bea’s strangled scream ripped through the field. They’re dying. Things happened so fast after that, Blanche registered the blood and skin peeling back on Nell’s arms, she didn’t even know what the hell was wrong with Bea, Winston on the ground and screaming, and Luce falling back into the grass. Triage. Luce was dying. Luce needed help the most. She moved instantly, fumbling for her phone. One quick message - Help. They’re dying. I need help. - later before she slammed into the ground next to Luce. She felt like she was going to puke. No, no. There was no time for that. “Everyone stay put!!” She yelled. “Stay where you are. Now.” It had been a long time since Blanche had taken a CPR course, but she was going to kiss whoever at UMAINE decided a First Aid course counted as a gym credit. She leaned over Luce, a couple hard prods to her shoulder. “Luce? Luce?” No response. She tilted Luce’s head slightly, lifting the chin and bending over her to listen to her breathing. Rather, lack thereof. She was supposed to wait 10 whole seconds before she started CPR. She remembered the instructor. Some uppity old woman who would yell things at them like they would remember it. Well, Blanche did remember it. Hands on too if each other, she was over Luce in an instant, delivering hard compressions to the middle of her chest, practically throwing her bodyweight into it. Fuck. Fuck. What was happening? Come on Luce. She tilted her head back, bending to give her a rescue breath before continuing chest compressions. “Whoever’s least injured, check on Bea!” Blanche demanded.

Nell knew Bea was the one who’d been brought back to life, but as she heard Beas voice’ changed though it was, she felt as if she’d been born anew. Bea was alive. And just like that it was like a dam broke in Nell, one that she’d been building up for weeks to hold everything behind, her anxiety steadily climbing until this point. But Bea was alive- she was here. “Bea?” she managed to get out through the pain, her arms still peeling all the way up to her elbows and not showing a sign of stopping. She didn’t know if it was from relief or pain that tears ran down her cheeks, the two emotions far too much for her to handle at a time like this. But in the same moment she gained a sister it seemed she was losing another, and the utter joy that had bloomed in her heart was instantly turned back to terror. “Luce?!” Somewhere in her mind, she knew her skin was still coming off in ribbons, the pain of it impossible to ignore as countless scars gathered from her blood magic over the years disappeared with her skin before her very eyes. And yet- there was no greater pain than losing a sister. She knew that from experience, and she wouldn’t let it happen again, not now, not so soon after they’d just gotten Bea back. They’d been whole for all of two seconds before the world was thrown into chaos again. Bea or Luce? Bea or Luce? She didn’t have to make the decision as Blanche rushed in. Nell knew she needed to stand back, let Blanche do her work no matter how much she might want to toss her aside to check on her sister. “Bea?” she asked again, instinctively reaching out for her sister, but pulling back as pain burned fiery hot through her again, her arms painted in red.

Winston cowered by Bea. They were too weak and simultaneously too restless to do anything. They’d never felt this tired in their life and honestly the adrenaline of Bea’s warm body next to them was more then enough to keep them going but they knew that it was only a matter of time before they collapsed from sheer exhaustion. They’d actually done it. They’d done it and now something worse was happening. They listened carefully to Blanche, out of them and Nell they seemed like they were the least hurt and they did a quick once over of Bea. Though they weren’t sure that they were in any state to be administering medical attention. “Hey, welcome back, Blanche’s got Luce don’t worry,” Winston knew that they would likely have to physically restrain Bea, but it was important Blanche did this without distraction, “are you hurt? Are you okay? How do you feel?” They were doing everything that they could to not think about Blanche taking care of Luce. Doing everything they could not to panic about what might be happening to their friend. They said a silent prayer to a god they didn’t believe in. Not after everything. They couldn’t lose Luce now. But they needed to take care of Bea. Make sure she was okay. “Nell, shit, Nell your arms.” Winston didn’t know why it had taken them so long to notice their friend, but their phone was burning their skin right now and as they pulled it from their pocket and threw it on top of their bag they for the thousandth time wished they’d learned healing magic. “We’re going to be fine,” fuck. They had to be.

They kept screaming something but Bea couldn’t understand. Someone was on Luce. Who was that? Blanche? She let out another groan. “Luce! Nellie!” Her vision just kept getting worse. In her panic, she fell away from Winston, and began to crawl once again. Her arms gave out. Falling down she rolled over onto her back. Breathing in and out heavily, she struggled to calm herself. “I can’t see well. Everything is blurry.” How did they know to use necromancy? She had too many questions to ask now. Her head went back against the ground. She was exhausted. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she simply went, “It worked.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #last shadow on the sun #miss beasha #ch:bea #ch:luce #ch:winston #ch:blanche

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buffynha · 4 years

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Naya Rivera: A Film Critic’s Appreciation of a TV Star

https://medium.com/@tomcendejas/naya-rivera-a-film-critics-appreciation-of-a-tv-star-8857ddf4e69

Naya Rivera: A Film Critic’s Appreciation of a TV Star.

I was much older than the target demographic for ‘Glee’, but I watched it semi-faithfully for these reasons: A) the intentionally diverse casting and primetime representation of many marginalized groups B) the clever reinvention and integration of pop songs and C) Naya Rivera.

Truth be told, since the show could be so wildly uneven, Rivera was often the ‘A’ reason I tuned in, always hoping she’d get a scene or a number.

Naya Rivera portrayed Santana, the tart-tongued (to put it mildly) captain of Glee’s cheerleading squad. By casting an Afro-Latina actress in the part, the show’s producers were already trouncing on stereotypes; by the year of the show’s debut, curtly dismissive cheerleaders were a staple of teen-centered entertainment, but they were usually white and hetero. As the show progressed, Santana fell for her teammate Brittany, came out to her family and friends, graduated from high school, tried to make her way in the big city, and eventually married Brittany. As a queer Latinx young woman with entrenched defense mechanisms, the character of Santana had to bear a lot of ‘representation’ duty, like an extended cheerleading ‘shoulder sit.’ But here’s the thing: Naya Rivera made it all seem as if it were as easy as a pony-tail toss.

Re-watching the early episodes, with Santana barely getting a cutaway, it’s easy to believe Ryan Murphy that the producers didn’t realize the size of talent they had on their hands when they first cast her. Rivera didn’t so much fight for more screen time as her talent compelled it, willed it. She’s mostly background in the first few episodes, until Santana and Brittany (Heather Morris) get drafted by Jane Lynch’s villainous cheer coach Sue Sylvester (the show does not lack for antagonists) to infiltrate the new Glee club and destroy it from within. From her earliest numbers and ultra-snippy encounters with the other kids, Rivera’s Santana starts to steal scenes.

This wasn’t just a function of the writing and directing. In fact, as clever, campy, sincere and delectably witty as ‘Glee’ could be (rewatching it this week, I chuckled at lots of throwaway lines) it could also be clumsy and over-reliant on whimsy and parody, sometimes in the same scene. In order to make the repeated point that Santana was caustically tough on the outside because she was hiding deep anxiety on the inside, the writers gave her so many withering and cruel things to say that emotional reality was often sacrificed on the altar of ‘Bitchy Quirkiness’ and frankly, because you imagined the writers were cracking themselves up at the saltiness of their latest insult. (Some were classics; too many of them hung on the lower rungs of humor, including easy body function jokes.)

But here’s the next thing: no matter how ridiculously florid the abuse Santana hurled at a classmate or teacher, Naya Rivera delivered the lines with alacrity and impeccable timing. And that’s what really made me sit up on my sofa and take notice.

Here was an actress who seemed to have the range of the marquee women from Hollywood’s ‘Golden Age’ of the 30s and 40s. The tumble of words the ‘Glee’ writers gave her didn’t faze her; she could deliver them with the rapid screwball comedy chops of Rosalind Russell or Jean Arthur. In an era of more tentative, introspective actors, Rivera had the steely drive of Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. Her larcenous way with a wry line was reminiscent of the great character actress Thelma Ritter; her ‘brassiness’ recalled Joan Blondell; the blaze in her eyes felt like the one emanating from Ida Lupino. (The comparisons had a visual equivalent — Rivera’s red-carpet personal style often favored form-fitting pencil skirts, modern iterations of a forties ‘dame.’)

Probably no greater compliment I can give is to say Rivera reminded me of the legendary Barbara Stanwyck. Able to navigate romantic comedy, drama and detective noir with husky-voiced fervor, Stanwyck could be devastating when she was furious yet hard to resist when she worked her charms. She was slight of figure but imposing of presence. Rivera had those cinematic assets as well. Because she started as a child actor, on ‘The Royal Family’ and especially on the great ‘The Bernie Mac Show’, by the time she got to ‘Glee’ she knew how to work a camera, as self-possessed and confident in her talents as Stanwyck was. Why this is important is that when an actor is too self-critical or tentative, we get uncomfortable or pulled out of the story. Reading testimonials from her cast mates (Chris Colfer says he sometimes was so in awe of her performance he’d forget he was in the scene with her) we see they also marveled at her self-assurance, and Rivera cannily used it to make Santana both poised and poignant.

Where Naya Rivera carved out her own space, different from most of our past silver-screen sirens, is that she could sing, and she was Afro-Latina, multi-racial, far from the whites-only casting of the Warner Brothers and MGM eras. That meant something to me; as a Chicano man of a certain age, I can remember times when I was a kid when my family would count all the ‘Latin’ movie stars we could think of and we often stopped literally with the fingers of one hand.

As someone who studies and loves writing about film, my head was nearly scratched raw from trying to figure out why Naya Rivera wasn’t swooped up from ‘Glee’ by the 2010s studio gatekeepers and given the chance to be a film superstar in vehicles that were worthy of her, bypassing the B-movie stage. She didn’t even get the big-screen ‘best friend’ parts in Hudson or Witherspoon rom-coms, which is what actresses of color with comic chops were often relegated to in the 2000s. Why this oversight happened, and I’m sure there’s a lot of background showbiz politics and personal reasons as to why, the result is we were denied someone who could have been a major screen star and given us the pleasure of an above-the-title, singing-dancing-acting triple-threat. If Rivera had been white, the big-screen star-making machinery would have overcome all obstacles to not just take a risk on her, but bet on her.

It really felt like Naya Rivera could do it all. Stanwyck and Davis had formidable talents, but singing wasn’t considered one of them, so that made Rivera a modern-day extension of their bravura, as though they’d been reincarnated in a child actress who was bristling at the confines of Disney channel and tv screens.

And Rivera had that voice! Some of us have our own version of a sort of ‘opposite ASMR’; we derive pleasure from singers who have a husky rasp in their voice, and rather than whisper, know how to belt. In this regard, Naya Rivera was a godsend. It gave her the ability to tackle songs associated with Tina Turner and Amy Winehouse and Stevie Nicks, no small feat. Yet Rivera could also narrow the grit in her wide voice to just a few flecks of hurt and hope, as in the poignant moment when she confesses her love to Brittany in a plaintive version of Christine McVie and Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Songbird.’ (This will sound like sacrilege to other Fleetwood Mac fans — I’ve seen the band in concert many times — but I just never really responded to McVie’s performance of her song except in cool, admiring ways. But I found Rivera’s vulnerable cooing of the song transfixing.)

Rivera’s musical performances on ‘Glee’ traversed many genres, but nothing seemed to catch her off-guard. I enjoyed many of the singers on ‘Glee’ —the show had over 700 musical numbers! — but if Rivera was given the lead, you knew you were about to get a showstopper, complete with signature focus, considerable ebullience and precision as a dancer. These gifts were captured best when ‘Glee’s’ hyper-active camera and editing stood still and just let her perform.

Rivera tackled Turner’s ‘Nutbush City Limits’ with ferocity. It’s too bad that the way she was filmed — with the aforementioned slice-and-dice, even leering editing — forever leaves us with a case of ‘what might have been.’ We get precious snippets of seeing Rivera singing, while the musical filming style of ten years ago, influenced by ‘Moulin Rouge’ and ‘Chicago’, attempts to whip us into an erotic frenzy with close-ups of halter-top abs and pom-pom zooms. This was a shameful miscalculation, because it has the opposite effect. If the camera had just stood planted and simply recorded the performance, Naya Rivera would have delivered the sexual fire and then some.

The best musical numbers with Rivera showcase all her talents — the ability to act out a lyric, the Fosse-flavored choreography, and a singing voice alternately tender and roof-raising. Her performance of Winehouse’s ‘Valerie’, in which she gets to ditch the ‘Cheerios’ uniform and stomp the stage in a party frock stands out as one of ‘Glee’s’ best and most effortless songs overall — it really looks like a romp that captures teenage brio and which would be electric to see live. (Later in the show, when Rivera sings ‘Back to Black’, you even got a glimpse that, as criminal as it might seem to suggest to purists, there’s a helluva Amy Winehouse jukebox Broadway musical waiting in the wings somewhere, and Rivera could have easily been its star.)

As commanding as Naya Rivera could be as a solo singer, her duets were full of a delicious tension. The job in a duet is to share the scene as democratically as possible while still bringing out the best in your partner and elevating the song. These were skills many in the cast had, though they occasionally had to juggle the meta-element that when the show became a phenomenon, the behind-the-scenes who-likes-who, who-hates-who gossip that fascinated early social media audiences could be at odds to the show’s scripted plot (though it seems the show’s creative team also deliberately worked the real-life stuff into the fictional stuff. A notable example of this was when Rivera and Lea Michele, who were rumored and since confirmed to be clashing backstage personalities — and as recent reports show, Rivera wasn’t the only one to find Michele difficult — sing a sweet song called ‘Be Okay’, almost as though they were ordered to by the network. Both are thoroughly professional, and by the end you don’t just think that maybe Santana and Rachel are really friends, but that Rivera and Michele had buried all their hatchets in a Fox studio wall as well.)

The duet partner for Santana I liked best was provided by one of ‘Glee’s’ other volcanic vocalists, Amber Riley. As Riley has since shown in her London West End role as Effie in ‘Dreamgirls’, and in TV productions of ‘The Wiz’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’, she is a formidable talent. Yet watch one of their songs together, ‘The Boy is Mine’, and see if your eyes don’t want to stay just watching Rivera’s performance in its entirety?

To see a more dynamic and perfectly matched dual performance, ‘Glee’ gave us the galvanic gift that is Amber Riley and Naya Rivera alternating and harmonizing into their own ‘wall of sound’ on the Tina Turner classic, ‘River Deep Mountain High.’ Turners vocals on the original are so singular, nothing can touch them. Just the way she crests the first line with a jagged crag in the middle of a note lets you know this is going to be sung from a place of both ache and power.

The ‘Glee’ version leans into the power angle. Santana and Mercedes brim with the ‘girlpower’ term used at the time, the youthful brio of being able to dream of scaling mountains. The choreography then counter-points and really gets it right by giving the singers the dance moves reminiscent of 60s girl-groups, and while it starts out sort of cute and ironic, by the end the choreography becomes mature and electrifying. When Riley sings the first verse, she has gospel runs and exquisite phrasing. She could easily overwhelm anyone. Rivera’s choice is to find her own place to put the appealing but melancholy cracks in her voice, harmonize beautifully, and then release her own blasts of power. The performance says more about ‘empowerment’ than pages of script could. ‘River Deep Mountain High’ is also notable for giving Rivera a chance to be charming in ways she usually didn’t get to be with all her ‘mean girls’ posing; when they get to the part about the ‘rag doll’, both singers mug, but Rivera’s brief clownishness when acting out that rag doll is unexpectedly loose and charming.

Of course, the journey for Santana on the show, and you’ll find many ‘Glee’ fans and pop culture critics who will argue that the show ultimately was about Santana, crucially centers on the classic ‘finding your voice’ view of young adulthood, and central to that, the relationship between Santana and Brittany. Nearly any news or lifestyle site of the past week that had a space for pop culture featured the heartbroken, deeply affected voices of many lesbians and queer people writing about the deep connection they felt towards the relationship and the visibility and identification it gave them.

Of more than passing interest, depending on how transgressive you thought of it, was the pairing between an Afro-Latina character and a white blonde cheerleader who could have stepped out of the background of a Taylor Swift video. Think of where we were in 2009 and that still would have been pushing boundaries. (The show was one of the first to normalize same-gender kisses.)

In Rivera’s scenes with her non-accepting Abuela (the great Ivonne Coll), she is as real as it gets — not only deeply hurt, but uncomprehending in the way so many gay kids can be when they are rejected simply because of their orientation. “But I’m the same person I was a minute ago.” One can imagine these scenes (and the contrapuntal ones between Kurt and his more accepting father) provided a lifeline to young queer people themselves caught up in the process of making decisions about how to come out, and in particular, to Latinx queer people, who found representation and resources hard to come by and certainly not in the media.

And in real life, Rivera, who did not identify as gay, proved to be a significant ally. She responded to queer fans, particularly young women, and she represented by hosting the GLAAD media awards, advocating for The Trevor Project and by speaking responsibly and articulately about what her fans had confessed to her.

The way the show frequently featured LGBTQ imagery was playful and willful. They weren’t representing all queer women; they were representing these two using a particular transgressive iconography. Teen lesbian cheerleaders weren’t invented with ‘Glee’; the queer film ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’ was released in 1999. But by keeping Santana (as well as the other ‘Cheerios’) in their squad outfits 24/7, Rivera started to look like it wasn’t just her cheer attire, it was her superhero uniform. You have your masked and fully-covered marvels; here was a fearless teen titan in sleeveless emblematic mini-skirt cutting through the hallways. Her superpowers? A withering glare that could refreeze the Arctic, an ability to shoot insults like a laser beam, and a pinkie-finger-linking with Britney that could heal your heart. Most of all, a voice that could fill a canyon and fleet feet that could leap over all calamity.

Until she couldn’t. When superheroes die, mere mortals look to the sky and feel, perhaps unreasonably but still undeniably, abandoned. Shocked, stunned, grievous. We look backward, because looking forward has just been removed as an option, and the realization of what will never be is too excruciating.

I couldn’t figure out what happened to Naya Rivera after ‘Glee’, given my hopes and expectations. She released quite a catchy single, ‘Sorry’, and later a memoir, ‘Sorry (Not Sorry.’) I didn’t realize she had joined a new show, the Youtube continuation of the ‘Step Up’ series, but now I do and she’s terrific in it. But to those of us who dropped our eyes from her a bit, I just remember it was because it seemed like there was tabloid stuff, personal tumult, a few seemingly misguided appearances or comments here or there. I was a hopeful, hopeful fan of her talent, not slavish to any TMZ notorieties — but those great female stars of the 30s and 40s? They were no strangers to splashy headlines either.

When I did watch ‘Turner Classics’ or my library of DVDS with some of those ‘Golden Age’ actresses, more than a few times I’d think of Rivera, search IMDB to see if she was getting that Oscar-worthy role yet. Or when there were increasing public discussions that called for better representation of people of color in media, I’d think: Naya Rivera! What’s she doing now? Why isn’t she in a big movie, headed for her superstardom? How did Hollywood’s famously white-screen blindness eclipse even gifts this generous?

So I’d check in the way we do now, with her IG feed or in passing hear about the occasional tweet. There would be a picture of her beauty, sometimes posed in the ‘sexy’ currency that builds and keeps ‘followers’ entranced and ‘promotes content.’

But occasionally Naya would post a picture with her son Josey, who she eventually was raising as a single mom. As many of her followers saw, in those fateful days of early July, I ‘liked’ a beautifully tender picture with Mom and Josey, eyelash close, captioned ‘Just the two of us.’ It seemed so peaceful. This must be what she wants to be doing, I thought. Happy for her. One of the miracles of ‘Glee’ was how they put on hour-long musicals once a week for six years, with 18-hour days. Who could begrudge anyone some rest after that?

But selfishly I also still wanted that album, that movie, that new film directed by her, something more from the force of nature that is, was, Naya Rivera and I gave more than a passing thought that with today’s reckonings, with greater sensitivity to the racism that undergirded so many institutions, the world would finally open up to her in the way it did for so many white actresses before her. It was her time.

Until it wasn’t.

That’s hard to reconcile. We’re supposed to say, as fans from afar, our grief is nothing compared to that of her family, friends, cast mates and of course that’s true. But it’s also true that the grief of a fan is not nothing. Those of us who didn’t know her personally, but were in awe of her talent, shouldn’t shut feelings of loss down. I think it honors Naya Rivera to mourn publicly the way so many fans have, ‘Gleeks’ or not. She was someone who had such hard-won achievement yet still such potential. And for some reason, the power brokers that be didn’t see it or find a place for it in time. We can grieve that mistake, and that which can’t be brought back or won’t be left as a long-career legacy.

That someone with so much soulful presence could suddenly disappear from this earth, at a time when we are all so careful not to lose each other, was wrenching. In consolation, I turned to a lot of Rivera’s performances from the show, though now of course they all carry a melancholy, stinging twinge. (For more on this, just look at the many comments on the pages where the videos are originally posted.)

You hear Naya Rivera sing Winehouse, and it’s hard not to think of how they both died young. You see her love for Brittany acted so convincingly, you think about Heather Morris, the actress who played her and wonder how she will weather this — thoughts that are none of your business, but you still have them. I found myself thinking of Kevin McHale who played ‘Artie’ on the show, and who seems so clear-headed; what would he say? You read Chris Colfer’s tribute to her and shed more than a few tears. You hear her sing ‘If I Die Young’ in tribute to Corey Monteith, and you recall that Rivera’s body was finally found on the day that Monteith died. It’s a lot.

There’s a memorable moment in the early run when Monteith’s Finn stops Santana in the familiar Glee alley of lockers and linoleum. She’s annoyed that he has outed her, and indeed he’s done her wrong. But the character is also written as sincere. Finn’s logic may be that of a teenager’s but he tells Santana that he didn’t ‘out’ her to hurt her, but to help her realize that she would still be accepted. He’d heard of someone who recorded an ‘It Gets Better’ video but later killed himself. He doesn’t want that to happen to her; ‘you mean something to me.’ He tells her that if something ever happened to her and he didn’t do everything in his power to stop it, he could never live with himself. Santana is left speechless at the tenderness, even as she’s furious — Rivera could convey both in a single look.

The context we have now in 2020 makes the brief scene heavy with portent and sadness. In actuality, Rivera was saddened that she couldn’t do more to stop Monteith’s untimely death from a drug overdose. That would be subtext enough. But now, with the timing of her death and the anniversary of his? It’s shattering. But I kept watching, and there was something that reminded me of my own experience teaching high school. A few minutes later, or a few episodes later, the kids are singing and dancing and throwing ‘Big Quenches’ at each other, and seldom has the show’s mission to show the fullness of life seemed so clear. I’ve found that to be true when I’ve gone through difficult times, or my school has, and still had to walk through the classroom door. No matter how sad I’ve been, there’s always a student offering, well, cheer.

Maybe we did get the movie Naya Rivera was on this earth to make after all. Because that scene between Santana and Finn was early in the show’s run. By ‘Glee’s’ end several years later, Santana didn’t hurt herself. She survived high school, she stumbled a little but recovered, she found her way, she was able to get onstage at a Broadway audition and sing ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade’ and give us a big, big moment of triumph; maybe she’ll get the part, she’s definitely going to get the girl. Just like an old musical.

And that’s why I wrote this: we talk about ‘Glee’ as a TV show, but maybe it was one long film. If you go back and watch ‘Glee’ with a particular focus on Rivera, you’ll see an extraordinary rise-and-fall-and-rise-again achievement; she’s one of the major leads of an epic. Sure it’s a movie full of silliness, toss-aways, occasional meanderings or repetitive plotlines, but it’s also full of heart and compassion. This seasons-long coming-of-age starred this African/Latina/Queer Ally/Queen who reigned with a crackling laugh, a stunning beauty and vivacious spirit.

If that’s all we were fated to get of Naya Rivera, she hit her mark — the line where enough and not enough meet. Maybe the silvery phantoms of Bette Davis, Rosalind Russell, Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck, who all knew their own injustices within the Hollywood system, maybe they were all waiting in the wings as she sang the curtain down. “Come on kid,” they might say, in old movie parlance. “You went out there a youngster but you came back: a Star!”

✍️The Couch Tamale✍️

Film, Music, Peak TV, Diversity— Tom Cendejas is sitting on a sofa and unwrapping Pop Culture with a Latino eye, one husk at a time.

#Naya Rivera #Actress #Glee #santana lopez #A Film Critic’s Appreciation of a TV Star #beautiful writing

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fairydust-stuff · 5 years

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Top Ten reasons to like Claude

Ok, here's the thing I dislike Claude as a person he's slimy, manipulative, emotionally abusive, acts like a perverted creep and he killed Alois then stomped on his poor little heart. That being said he's a great antagonist he's so good in fact it seems the writers had to make him Ciel’s stupid stalker later on in the season and make him too easily defeated by Sebastian dispite the fact, Claude nearly killed him in their first fight. Also i now I've said this before but i hate when people hate on Claude but then praise Sebastian. They both manipulated and planned the death of children. Claude smashed Alois's head open, but Sebastian stabbed Ciel once he realized serving him isn't beneficial to him anymore. If you prefer Sebastian fine, but stop acting like Sebastian is a pure selfless saint who never does anything wrong. So let's take a look at Claude's less badly written attributes

1 Hobbies Come how many demons can do origami, tap dance and sew. Claude has actual hobbies besides being a butler and their kind of interesting and cool. Honestly i wish we knew how he learned to make origami or how he learned how to do a Spanish Flamengo and who else thinks get getting Alois and Claude as dance partners would of been epic!

2. Goofball For all his stiff upper lip, extreme formality and annoyance and disgust at Alois's immaturity and antics. Claude can be a real goofball he does that weird thing with his glasses to entertain Alois in the OVA. He starts a food fight with Sebastian while they're preparing food for the masters. Then he even dancing around taunting Sebastian going " He saw you! He saw you!" I may dislike Claude x Alois as a romantic pairing, but i have to admit whenever I see flashes of this slightly more silly side of Claude, i can see how Alois might of fallen for him.

3. Patience I've got to admire how easily Claude puts up with everything in comparison to Sebastian. No matter what weird antics or shenanigans Alois gets up to. Claude just goes about his business as usual, even when Alois literary stretches his face into a smile. He continues to not only put up with it but to keep talking. He makes Alois try hard to even get the slightest reaction from him and honestly props to him for that, because as much as I love Alois it must be trying to actually live with someone who goes through constant mood swings, and you have to fight just so you can dress them every morning.

4 Rivalry with Sebastian These two are so petty toward each other two demons got into a food fight, i repeat a food fight! When they're not trying to out demon each other, they're trying to out butler each other. Its hysterical to watch! Claude’s always the one to throw the first taunt and piss the usually arrogant Sebastian off. Anyone who gets that kind of reaction out of Sebastian i can't help but like. Also Claude nearly sliced off Sebastian's head and trapped him in his web in the first half of the season. For the first time in a fight in Black Butler there's actually a stake. Sebastian is matched by an equally powerful and cunning opponent this should of been a bigger plot point then it was. In fact, I wanted to see more of their fights just because they were so childish and Sebastian wasn't guaranteed a win without working for it for once.

5. Manipulative In a antagonist this is key and up until the end when he gets over confident. Claude skillfully played everyone on the chess board. He had Alois snared in his web codependent on him and cut off from everyone else both in the house and in London. According to an old writer roleplay Claude treated Alois like he mattered slowly reeling him in. He also tricked Sebastion by pretending to make a deal with him, that Alois would be sacrificed and they'd fight over ciel. When he wanted to eat them both the whole time. The smirk of smug triumph on Claude's face when he says " I'm afraid my rose decayed." implying he made the deal with a dying rose to make their demon pact not stick. He made Ciel think Alois's memories were his by shoving Alois's soul into his body and using a metal asylum to mess up Ciel's brain. Turned the kid against Sebastian and got him to order Sebastian to never see him again. Honestly he would of won if it wasn't for Hannah. So i have to admire his plan it was actually good as far as evil plans go.

6. Claude is a screw up This may be a weird thing to like but i honestly find Sebastian too good at everything sometimes. Claude who leaves sauce on the plate, doesn't know how to comfort Alois without being creepy, who gets over confident and tells Alois the truth in the maze, when a lie would have helped him more, underestimates Hannah even though she threatened him over Alois's safety is just less perfect and i like that because perfect characters are boring and it's not interesting to see them go up against anyone.

7. Relationship with Alois This twisted dynamic kind of draws me in in fact i don't think we got enough interactions between these two or explored their obsessive relationship. Yana describes Alois feelings for Claude as "addiction" implying a toxic inability to quite Claude. The interesting thing is Claude seems just as addicted to him. At the end of the show Sebastian points out the smell that intoxicated Claude was Alois soul not Ciel’s. That and the OVA Spider's Intention and season 2 flashback suggest Claude finds Alois facinateing " The soul who dances in fire” Claude describes him as. And furthermore Claude is drawn not to Alois’s cruelty like you’d expect from a demon grooming a sinner but his passion. Even when Alois’s is shown crying over the butterfly he acidently killed Claude is fixated on him like he’s something, Claude can't quite figure out. At one point when Alois uses the truth of Luka death to deceive the priest and Alaster. Claude looks visibly surprised and when Alois decides to take Ciel from Sebastian to make the other demon suffer. Claude calls him “ magnificent” and there is a subtext of the two them scheming together rather than Claude just taking orders. There seems to be a kind of twisted intimacy there between predator and prey with these two and their roles constantly swap.

8. His catchphrase People claim he stole it but that's ridiculous Sebastian says " I'm one hell of a Butler." Claude says "that's what makes a Trancy Butler." there's a huge difference. Actually I prefer Claude's catchphrase because it's never exactly the same. " Sugar into salt one moment" and Red into Blue the next." at least Claude keeps it interesting and it's never straightforward its almost a riddle that the viewer has to figure out his meaning.

9. Loyal in the end I'm still mad at him and annoyed all can give Alois is he was a worthy meal after all. I don't think it makes up for him screwing with Alois's head for all those years. However I can't help but notice even when he seemed to hate Alois, Claude never denied being a Trancy Butler it was part of his catchphrase. Actually as much as some fans swoon over how close Sebastian and Ciel are, Sebastion has never once defined himself as the Phantomhive Butler. His catchphrase puts the emphasis on how awesome he is while Claudes is a bit braggy as well, its implies to serve Alois to be a Trancy Butler is an honor. In fact Claude even dies saying " A stray dog into an Earl. " he even with his last breath still remains and is proud to call himself Alois's Butler.

10. Hints of discontentment . Claude mentions that he wanted excitement, something to ease the humdrum of a very long empty life with no purpose but devouring souls. This makes since as it hints Claude’s pursuit of Ciel had less to do with the boy himself and more to do with the fact he wanted danger, flash and a challenge even if it ended in his demise. In the end Claude acknowledges Alois brought excitement into his long boring life which was something he did not expect. This line implies Claude was as bored and apathetic as Hannah used to be and was looking to feel something as a demon through devouring and the thrill of the hunt because it never occured to Claude to try any other way. He's basically a demon haveing a mid life crisis, how can i not enjoy that?

#Black butler #claude faustus #claude appreciation #Claude is basically haveing a midlife crisis and latch's onto abused kids to give his life meaning #This guy is way more interesting then Sebastian in my opinion

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blackbeerandcoffeemovies · 5 years

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The Color out of Space (a.k.a. The Paranormal)

Confucius says: “Be always mindful. Minor spoilers ahead”.

Alpacas.

Yes, alpacas!

Never heard of the South American, fluffy, adorable and kin-to-the-camel mammal? Nicholas Cage who plays the patriarch character in the film and raises them and claims they are the “animal of the future”. They look something like an uber-cute amalgam of a sheep, camel and poodle dog.

Yes. alpacas . . . Damn honest truth. So, now I’ve either piqued your interest or turned you off by beginning this review with such an exotic animal. A reader with discerning taste would continue on though.

But first, a much needed literary context for the basis of the film. Based on the short story of the same title and published in 1927 by the acclaimed American classic horror and weird fiction mythos creator, Howard Philips Lovecraft or HP Lovecraft for short.

To say that Lovecraft was an interesting fellow is grossly trivializing! He’s likely the kind of guy you might feel revulsion towards but, at the same time, feel a bit of sympathy as well. Kind of like that kid in school who was always by himself and who no one would talk to. You feel sorry for him, so you walk up to him to try to start a conversation. About five minutes in, you realize WHY no one wants to talk to him or engage him! Born initially in affluence with some hints of “proper English” in his family, he enjoyed a sheltered life filled with books and literature. Tragedy though often re-occurred in his life like some annual respiratory infection. He not only lost his father at a young age but an overly protective mother (who would also pass on a bit later) would smother him to a fault, thereby endowing him with the fortitude and broadmindedness of a pillow cushion! That’s going to put a big dent into your social life, right? Also, it didn’t help that his elitist, isolationist tendency had a xenophobic side as well, but let’s not float the boat on those waters.

Fortunately, he was able to channel all this introverted, awkward, alienism into a sub-genre of horror literature that would later morph and expand thanks to the efforts of other fellow authors. This collective of fiction would eventually be termed as “Cosmic Horror”. The mythos of Lovecraft’s universe can essentially be summed up through his own words: “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown”. His writings had a strong, naturalistic bent and were influenced by the great scientific discoveries of the early 20th century. The themes would delve far outside the familiar, brightly-lit world and would even reach further beyond the realms of “space and time”. Yes, BEYOND, where gods dwell or are in a state of suspended animation.

These gods, however, are NOT personified beings with our familiar temperaments or even with a rationality that we could all somehow relate with. No, these gods are titanic, indescribably grotesque, hideous masses of both matter and energy who absolutely do not care about you, or just as much as you sparing a passing thought for an amoeba or a bug crawling on a shrub! It is a vast, dark and indifferent universe, and you just have to deal with the horrors and disasters that result from this apathy. You’re going to be eaten, stomped or sacrificed and then eventually forgotten. Get over it!

Cheerful fellow this Lovecraft, huh?

At this point, I’m already hearing the protests: “Nice Lit lecture there, but what about the damn movie!?” Ok, because I was so looking forward to seeing again a Lovecraft opus in motion pictures, I just had to listen to reviews prior to watching the film and the overwhelming consensus was positive. How positive was it? Between “Great” to “Lovecraft done right” to “Future cult classic”!

Well, let’s just say I’m not a member of the fan club. . .

The plot: a family lives out in the middle of the woods trying to live an ideal life. A meteor crashes in their property. Chaos ensues by way of a supernatural force with indescribable colors because “they fall outside the range of anything known in the visible spectrum” (from our friends at Wikipedia). There were beastly transformations, eerie environmental changes and light shows in all the various shades of magenta! A simple and straightforward plot, but as always, it’s HOW you tell the story.

Personally, this movie was underwhelming NOT because it lacked the essential elements of story-telling I prize so much in my critiques, but because it did have the potential to be great, YET fell short of that goal. The pacing aspect could be forgiven because of some supernatural influences, yet still, it felt a bit forced throughout. As for the narrative aspect, it was certainly there but the character-building I found sorely lacking, all except for two: the “angsty” daughter character (played by up-and-comer Madeleine Arthur) and the legendary creature known as Nicholas Cage.

What can you say about Cage and his well-known, “eccentricities” (i.e. - His famous wild rantings and ravings)? He becomes a spectacle that could somehow detract from the coherence of the film. In some moments though, he personified the descent of a man into madness with such acumen, you sort of feel suicidal! A difficult scene with the alpacas comes into mind.

Some scenes are also so obviously contrived, you feel that the characters surrendered their brains and willingly put themselves in danger in order for something nefarious to escalate. Director Richard Stanley in all of this is enjoying some sort of second wind as apparently, he had just started getting attention back in the early to mid-2000s but was stymied for a bit.

I suppose I understand the hype about this movie: I think those who rave about it are die-hard Lovecraftians who celebrate any passable interpretation of the literature into a film (however mediocre it might be). Such an effort is hailed as a triumph of sorts. Believe me, I understand; it’s the same situation for comic book/graphic novel fans (whom I could have an affinity with since I grew up with American comics).

By my estimation, this is a very lukewarm film and somewhat engaging. It’s not bad, but it’s certainly not worth writing home about either! If you are a Lovecraft aficionado and enjoy tales of the eldritch abominations, then this might be a worthy, almost 2-hours of entertainment. If not, at least you could see Cage displaying the full range of, well, “Cageness” he’s known for!

Finally, it was released here under the mind-numbingly generic title of “The Paranormal” since apparently Filipinos might not be intellectually capable enough to appreciate classic titles!

#Horror Sci-Fi Fantasy

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starspanner · 6 years

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I mentioned it before in my "There can be no happy ending" rant, but I believe that one theme of this story is about the danger of great power, and how the titan power, like the One Ring, cannot be used without corruption.

An act of evil reverberates like ripples in a pond. A person does something, and it echoes outwards, destroying and warping as it goes. It's why so many problems in the real world are so difficult to solve--one wrong thing is done, so another wrong (with good intentions) is undertaken to fix it, which causes another, unrelated problem, so then any solution might fix one problem while exacerbating another, so more fixes are required, and before you know it you are mired in problems without really knowing what the original, core wrong is, or how to right it without blowing everything else up.

We don't know if Ymir Fritz's original act of accepting the titan power was evil in and of itself (my guess is that it was unwise at best) but since then, that choice has resulted in nothing but death and misery for all involved, as the people of the world fight over the power of the titans. And while the background plot is how this unfolded on the global scale, the true tragedy we see over and over again are the individuals who are destroyed in their attempts to grasp and hold onto that power.

Eren Kruger thought he was doing a service for the Elidans, no matter how many he tortured and sent to their doom, by keeping the Attack Titan secret then passing it along to Grisha, who then used it to kill a bunch of children and take the Founding Titan and pass them both to his unwitting son (who has now killed a bunch more children). Zeke believed that he needed the power of a titan to succeed in the restorationist cause, so he sacrificed his parents to get it. Eren has been fought over and used over and over again--how many have died to hold onto his power?

And then there's the serum bowl. Berthold was nothing but an object at that point, a means to gaining an impressive power and save one life out of hundreds. The only survivors of a terrible battle came to blows over each one's desire to use that power the way they wanted. The causes were noble, sure: both sides had excellent arguments, and both men were loved and important to the cause. But that fight on the roof had an element of madness, as if the power of the titans had destroyed their reason.

I think Levi sort of grasped it, if not fully, or in a way he would ever be able to articulate. Kenny caused a lot of damage and killed a lot of people to try and gain that power (even willing to sacrifice his sister's son, who he had trained himself and called his "pride and joy"), even as it destroyed everyone around him, starting with the one person he might consider a friend, then his squad, and finally himself. In the end, he realizes it, and relinquishes the serum to Levi, warning him then that, "Everyone is drunk on something." Everyone wants something, he means, and will use what they must to get it, hold onto it, protect it. He lets it go, and in turn, Levi is able to let it go as well.

Just another reason to call him humanity's strongest.

So now we are at the end-game, where the mindless titans are less a threat, but the titan shifters are still seen as the means to...something. What? Freedom? Power over the world? Security? I'm not sure anyone on Paradis actually knows what they want for an end result. Or everyone wants something different. But they are unwilling to relinquish that power, believing that its continued use is the key to that illusive goal. Eren has the power of three (and a half, with that Braun serum?) titans now, and basically told Hange that there is nothing anyone can do to stop him from using it.

And meanwhile, it appears that they are so terrified that they might lose the coordinate that they somehow convinced Historia that it is necessary to have a baby to carry on the bloodline.

(I'm reserving judgment for just how bad this is until we know more. People have children for all sorts of reasons, and no one is restricted to only one relationship in the course of their lives. But the best case scenario--one where she is one hundred percent okay with this plan and cares about the father--is still devastatingly tragic.)

Tragic, but not surprising in the least. Kruger chopped off thousands of fingers. Grisha stomped children. Mikasa very nearly slit the throat of her superior officer. Eren has been yanked back and forth in a military and political tug-of-war until he doesn't trust those who care about him the most. And I haven't even mentioned the Warriors and their heirs. Historia bearing a child who is fated to have a short, sad, burdened life is just another ripple in the pond.

Where is the resolution in this cruel but beautiful world? In the rumbling? In all out war with the world? In shady deals with those who care more about the rocks beneath Paradis than the people living there? I keep relating the titans to Tolkien's One Ring. In that story, it was not war and battle that saved the day, it was the refusal to use the "gift" of the ring to storm Mordor and destroy Sauron, only to raise something even more terrible in his place. It was in the relinquishing of that gift, in placing one's hope in beauty and love and accepting the loss that comes with that surrender, that ended the threat to the world.

Attack on Titan ain't Lord of the Rings, I know that. But I am a gal who loves a good parallel. And my point is that I can still see no happy ending unless and until a way is found to refuse that power and end the curse of Ymir for once and for all. There might be loss, and sadness, but there would also be no rumbling.

#I'm know I'm so optimistic #Attack on Titan #snk spoilers

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deepdarkwaters · 7 years

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Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Got back from the Kingsman double bill a bit ago and am trying to put my brain into words even though I'm very tired and a bit numb and I smuggled five hours' worth of gin into the cinema in an Evian bottle so I'm as drunk as Harry at breakfast time.

OBVIOUSLY THERE ARE SPOILERS BELOW

Watching them back to back like this was interesting because it highlighted so clearly how much better the first one is than this fumbly ridiculous sequel. Not saying it's not good or not worth watching or whatever because it absolutely is worth watching for several reasons I will babble after another teacup of gin, but holy god is this really the best they could come up with? REALLY? A 100% true fact that I believe with my entire heart: YOU reading this, you are a better writer than people being paid obscene money to write films. I could easily name thirty fic writers off the top of my head right now who have an infinitely better grasp on pacing and plot and characterisation and dialogue than the people responsible for this stuff. I've not read any press or fan reviews but I imagine there's going to be a hell of a lot of backlash over so much in this from every angle because it's just so incredibly lazy and sometimes ugly and absolutely cannot stand up to its own hype.

Really good things:

* SPECTACULAR, EH!

* Eggsy/Harry and Eggsy/Merlin shippers, goddamn we have a lot of new stuff to work with. Chemistry through the roof, especially Eggsy/Harry (including possibly the best clingy desperate hug I have ever seen on film in my entire life WE HAVE WAITED SO LONG AND IT'S HERE AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL). That was the heart and backbone of the first film, I'm so relieved that it's not only survived but evolved into something fiercer and often messier. So so good to watch. Pretty sure I've got Harry/Merlin written down the inside of my heart like the words in a stick of rock, and though it's not romantic you get much more of a sense of their friendship here and it's all just a bit shattering and gorgeous.

* Pretty much everything to do with Harry's memory loss and Eggsy and Merlin trying to shock him into remembering was great, Y E S P L E A S E. And Harry's matter of fact comments about his loneliness, fuckkk. Angst writers, go forth with all this new information and break my heart some more! Fluff writers, fix him!

* Lots of beautiful intricate fight choreography which is literally all I need in my action films, so even if I did think the rest was complete balls (which I don't entirely) then I'd still be happy. Nothing comes near the vivid glorious gutpunch of the church scene as a standalone set piece, BUT there's so much Harry & Eggsy teamwork and please just inject this directly into my veins, it's amazing. Prepare for several years of me writing many more elaborate fight scenes than I already do.

* Part B to the above: Whiskey is a lot of fun and his fighting style is full on hardcore pornography to me.

* Merlin in a flawless Kingsman suit, RIP me.

* One of my Bespoke WIPs is about Merlin and Eggsy getting into the habit of going to the pub together sometimes and rolling home completely drunk with a kebab in each hand then trying to get in the house really quietly because Harry's asleep but they end up waking him because they think it'll be really nice to cook him breakfast in bed and Harry comes stomping downstairs in his dressing gown like "it's four o'fucking clock, put those frying pans away and drink some water!" while Merlin and Eggsy side eye each other and try not to giggle. So maudlin singing drunk Merlin was very nice to see :P

* Eggsy and Roxy bromance. There’s such lovely chemistry between them as well, it feels so natural and real, and it’s so good (and miserably rare) to see platonic friendships that aren’t shoehorned into some shitty boring love triangle.

* Eggsy and Tilde were seriously adorable. It ended up not at all satisfying as a romance plot arc because it was like CUTE - fight - marriage, it needed so much more screen time. Like all the important stuff was there, but it was just so abrupt. Include a satisfying romance or don't include one at all, fuck your lazy bullet points. But it started so well and I hope there's a ton of fic that treats them better than the script did. I appreciate the anti-Bond-ness of it all, that Eggsy's genuinely in love and wants to settle and is figuring out how that and his job can possibly fit together, especially with the complications of marrying into royalty. Interested to see where they take that if there's another film. Until then, soo much scope for fic.

* I'm shipping Harry/Elton like burning.

* Poppy was terrifying in a vaguely Umbridge-ish way. That sort of characterisation is always freaky, Julianne was great. So glossy and cheerful but absolutely dead in the eyes. And I'm ambivalent on Charlie, but I ABSOLUTELY want lots of brutal older woman villain/pathetic younger male minion smut. Please provide asap.

* T H E M Y T H I C A L B R E A K F A S T S C E N E I S R E A L

Really bad things: well where the merry fuck do I start haha.

* I will never ever understand why they thought it was a good idea to wipe out all the locations and almost all the existing characters at the very beginning. It's lazy shitty writing. If you feel like you need to shake up your fictional world you don't just knock it all down and start over. It's cheap and very shallow angst.

* I only have two middle fingers but I need about seventeen million to even begin to profess my disgust at them killing Roxy. I knew it was going to happen, it was the only spoiler I asked someone for ahead of time and it was not at all a surprise to find out for sure. Still utterly infuriating. The way people responded so positively to her in the first one is a real indication of how ridiculously low the bar is for female characters in action films ("good at something" and "not the hero's love interest" are literally the only two requirements), and JG/MV didn't even think enough of her to follow through on the absolute base level achievement they made before. Fuck everyarse involved in this decision.

* Absolutely revolting honeypot mission scene. Not really the fact that it exists, just the entire way it was handled and shot - so predictably male-gazey and laddishly "waheyyy!" that it kind of turned my stomach. Horrible and completely unnecessary.

* A million new characters and not enough time spent on any of them to care. Tequila was barely more than a cameo. Champ and Ginger hardly had anything to do. All the Statesmen (except Whiskey) were completely two dimensional and it's such a jarring contrast to the obvious care taken over Eggsy, Merlin, and Harry. It's not even because we already know them, I don't think? It's weird to try and explain. The Statesman characters just feel so rushed and shallow, there's no substance to any of them. Kill off Roxy and replace her with paper cut-outs, ok that makes loads of sense!!! Whiskey’s a level up from the others because he gets loads more screen time and some beautiful fight scenes, but his ~emotional plot twist fell completely flat. I don’t know what it was, the pacing or a boring cliche backstory or what. It was just dull as fuck. WE HAVE HEARD THIS EXACT STORY FIVE MILLION TIMES.

A bad thing that's somehow not really a bad thing even though I'm fucking numb and want a hug:

* I've been raving for ages to people about Roxy being killed off and trying to figure out a way to satisfactorily explain how I feel about a character dying for a reason and a character dying because a writer is a lazy bastard who wants some quick angst. Merlin's death was an A+ wonderful death along the lines of my dear fictional boyfrends Quincey Morris and Lee Scoresby and a million others. Maybe it comes from all the swashbuckly historical adventure stories I grew up loving, but I'm a desperate sucker for a good noble death. Characters brave and self-aware enough to look at the bigger picture of an impossible situation and realise that their death means a better outcome for the people they love? This is ABSOLUTE CATNIP to me. Characters who go down fighting to the very end. If a character I love with my entire soul has to die, this is how I want it to happen. Give them some agency and a proper goodbye.

I mean I fully expect him to be magically resurrected with fancy prosthetic legs if there's another film because we saw those wedding set photos of him in the nice neon green cgi stockings, so really I should be saying "death". I totally reject this one. (I reject Roxy and JB's deaths as well, but the big difference is I really can't see the filmmakers bringing them back. Eyeroll.) Maybe that's what's making it easier to deal with? A not-real noble courageous self-sacrificing death. That's about as good as it gets. All three of them get Oscars for this whole sequence.

Anyway the tl;dr of it is:

This film is a very beautiful, very patchy mess. The good stuff is absolutely gloriously perfectly incredibly wonderful. Most of said good stuff is the interaction between Eggsy, Merlin, and Harry, which is written and performed with real care and heart. Nearly everything else is relatively lacklustre filler, misogyny, and shitty nonsensical decisions. These people cannot write women.

I liked it? I will definitely see it 900 more times, mainly for wet terrified Harry and gorgeous fight scenes. But ffs, how can it possibly be this difficult to pinpoint the reasons why people loved your extremely successful creation and consider including them in future plans?

I'm feeling fairly zen about everything. I kind of trained myself ages ago to think of sequels as just another bit of fanfic, so it's going to make absolutely no difference to the cheerful fluff porn and fight scenes I like to write. What I'm annoyed about isn't so much to do with ~new canon~ limiting what we're allowed to create for ourselves now, because that's just silly. It's more about being pissed off at the shoddy state of action films, particularly women in action films, when it seems like it should be SO EASY to take these astronomical budgets and create something groundbreaking. I'm so tired of this unimaginative lazy narrow-minded bullshit.

#kingsman #kingsman 2 #kingsman spoilers #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman: the golden circle spoilers #tgc spoilers #is this enough spoiler tags haha

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gamerszone2019-blog · 5 years

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Metal Wolf Chaos XD Review

New Post has been published on https://gamerszone.tn/metal-wolf-chaos-xd-review/

Metal Wolf Chaos XD Review

At no point during Metal Wolf Chaos XD is it easy to forget this a re-release of a 15-year old game. From the bulky menus, cumbersome controls and over-the-top action to the hilariously tongue-in-cheek voice acting, heavy focus on high scores, and complete lack of seriousness throughout, this is very much a video game from a different era, for better and for worse.

Metal Wolf Chaos XD clocks in at a breezy seven hours to complete all of its missions, which feels like the perfect length for a game like this. You control Michael Wilson, the 47th President of the United States of America, as the Vice President stages a coup and usurps control of the country through force. So now it’s up to you as a lone mech pilot to single-handedly wage war against the dirty rebels and take back control of the country in the name of freedom, justice, and the American way.

The plot is absolutely ludicrous, but it embraces the tone whole-heartedly. The superbly campy voice acting and borderline cringe-inducing writing help sell what is intentionally designed to be a full-on parody. You have to approach Metal Wolf Chaos XD with some understanding of just how tongue-in-cheek it all is or it’s close to impossible to enjoy yourself. I laughed during every conversation and cutscene. One-liners like, “Suck on my missile punch!” were just top-tier and the sheer ridiculousness of each premise had me chuckling non-stop. Liberating the country as the President by demolishing buildings and murdering thousands of people is par for the course in this twisted version of America.

You have to approach Metal Wolf Chaos XD with some understanding of just how tongue-in-cheek it all is or it’s close to impossible to enjoy yourself.

“

This is very much a direct parody of American government, politics, and national security policies that feels extremely poignant, even all these years later. From Software originally released this game a mere three years after 9/11 and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. And neither is the fact that it somehow only ever released in Japan. Frankly, it’s shocking that it’s seeing the light of day in the rest of the world at all even now.

Basically, Metal Wolf Chaos XD is like if you took From Software’s classic Armored Core series, ripped out most of the complexities and customization and then replaced the premise with something that feels like a Team America spin-off. All this re-release does is upgrade the visuals to HD resolutions for modern platforms, and that’s about it.

As someone who can appreciate a bit of mindless action, Metal Wolf Chaos XD definitely delivers on that front, even if actually controlling your mech never feels quite right. Turning to line up your shots is sluggish and using the boost to evade is extremely inaccurate. Hovering in the air isn’t anywhere near as useful as it should be and you’ll often be fighting the camera in addition to your enemies.

Luckily, the aiming system adds a bit of nuance to keep things more interesting. Each gun has an aiming radius displayed as a box on-screen. As long as an enemy is within that box when you shoot your weapon, you should hit them. But that box is shaped differently for each weapon, which adds a lot of interesting strategy in how you approach combat encounters.

For example, missiles and bazookas have a very small square aiming reticle, typically move slowly, and don’t lock-on to enemies, but a machine gun has a widespread area it could hit. It’s a strange way to aim and fire weapons that takes some getting used to, but picking the right weapon for the right enemy and situation is extremely important. For example, slow-moving tanks and hovering helicopters are susceptible to bazookas if you can aim them well, whereas ground forces are best handled with machine guns. Big, powerful weapons like railguns and multi-missile launchers don’t have a lot of ammo capacity, but are extremely powerful when used against heavily armored boss enemies. Sadly, most enemies are uninspired bullet sponges that are far from a challenge when not collected in massive swarms, with bosses acting more as a test of your patience than your skill.

Because your weapon decisions are so crucial, the lack of information offered about missions before you play them is extremely frustrating. Having more intel to better prepare before going into a mission blind would be great. All it tells you is the basic objective, such as destroy all targets or destroy the canon before it fully charges, but you never know which types of weapons you might need. This becomes even more problematic since there are no checkpoints at all during missions. After spending a half-hour meticulously clearing a map only to run into a brick wall with a boss you weren’t prepared for is devastating since you have to reload your last save as if none of that progress ever happened.

Screenshots From the Metal Wolf Chaos XD Re-release

Trial and error design like this feels extremely outdated, unsurprisingly. But I wish this XD release would have added things like checkpoints or extra mission briefing intel to help smooth things out without sacrificing the core design and intended challenge. Wasting my time by forcing me to replay a mission isn’t fun.

I wish this XD re-release would have added things like checkpoints or extra mission intel to help smooth some of its outdated rough edges without sacrificing the core design and intended challenge.

“

Thankfully that didn’t happen very often. Most of the time missions are straightforward and a diverse loadout covering all bases will get the job done. Especially since the vast majority of missions have you stomping out enemy vehicles, blowing up towers, and shooting down helicopters. After a while it all starts to feel the same except for occasional boss fights. Other than one or two levels, they’re all very flat with next to zero variety in elevation or enemy types.

In between missions, you can spend money and materials on investments and manufacturing in the Garage. Each type of weapon has multiple tiers to unlock that let you manufacture new, better guns. It’s a decent customization system that adds just enough complexity to make progression feel constant and rewarding, but eventually you hit a point where it doesn’t matter anymore because of how powerful you become.

Mission structure is pretty problematic overall. For starters, there are zero checkpoints. If you die at the boss after a half-hour of monotonous gameplay clearing out spongy grunts, being forced to replay the entire mission over again feels like a massive chore. Most of the missions are completely linear without any variation making it get real old, real fast.

After beating a mission you can return to try and find hidden prisoners to rescue, or even change the difficulty to try for better rewards and new mech skins, but that level linearity meant I didn’t find myself wanting to replay them very often. Some other sort of game mode would have been a welcome addition as an alternative way to earn cash, like a wave-based mode or some randomization to make things a bit more unpredictable.

Source : IGN

#Game News #Game Reviews

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

Text

Kinda fell off the grid with Crippling Arm Pain for a couple of days and watched Asylum, Scarecrow, Faith, Route 666 and the first half of Nightmare in a haze of "ow ow ow ow" and I don't have a whole lot to say about them and their individual moments that relates to season 12 that we haven't already said when anything relevant happened at the time IN season 12 while it was airing...

This whole section of season 1 though, makes a shift in Dean and Sam's dynamic which I think is where they drew most of the angst from for like, the rest of the show, and as usual I'm still obsessed with 12x22 and that very specific message of Sam leading and Dean stepping back and letting him do it. And very specifically where that came from and how as a reversal of season 1 in some ways back to the pilot, Sam gets walked back out of what he gets walked into over these episodes.

Sam perpetually comes back to the sort of "you have to let me grow up" thought like in season 5 & 8 ESPECIALLY off the top of my head before 12, although I think 3 was as well in response to knowing Dean would die, and tbh kicked off the entire arc from 3-5. So yeah, it's been a lot of Sam's lingering feeling about Dean and their dynamic and in 12x22 we see another gesture which I don't think (apart from the endless IMPLICIT trust of just working with Sam every friggin' NORMAL day of the week treating him like an equal when this ISN'T a plot thing) we've had aside from Swan Song, in terms of Big Symbolic Okay You Are An Adult Now Seriously How Are We Still Doing This Plot Oh Right Season 8 Needed Old Angst Warmed Up On All Fronts moments.

(Uh, sorry, I'll pick a fight with Carver about the laziness of season 8 character arcs on my own time because everyone else likes that season and generally it seems the show did well re: audience response to going back to basics and rehashing multiple seemingly resolved character arc things instead of going somewhere new :P Long post 99.9% not about that last thought AT ALL under the cut)

Anyway! In the first part of season 1, Sam is with Dean to find John. And he passes it off as a road trip to anyone who asks, and John is the thing keeping Sam from just meeting up with him and they charge off father & son guns blazing revenge mission - he's disappeared, and then sends them on another hunt when they catch up to where they lost him, also on a hunt he makes them take on his behalf.

For a few episodes Dean can fob Sam off about going to work cases while they look for John but he already kinda knows, then at the end of Phantom Traveller it's confirmed for them that John changed his answer phone to redirect to Dean, and the family business is now his. For Dean that's just like, welp, I'll shoulder THAT burden for my family too, no problem, already got a whole crushing weight there anyway hahaha.

For Sam that makes it a lot more complicated, that John doesn't WANT to be found and he's now effectively trapped with Dean working the job while trying to convince him John is more important, and Dean is convinced John’s orders are more important.

Bloody Mary doesn't have any real resistance to doing the case, and Sam's preoccupied with visions & Jess's death still, so I think his head is still spinning about what he's actually doing and the case doesn't help settle him AT ALL. In Skin, he's the one who makes them backtrack for a personal thing which turns into a case, and he learns the crappy lesson that he can't have normal friends and essentially sees that Dean feels like a friendless freak even if he pretends this is all cool and part of the job, but rather more focus on Sam as the rebellious child being dragged back into the awful family and his own sense of sacrificing normality for the job & revenge from his perspective (looking ahead to how this bubbles over). Hook Man, he offers token protests to doing the case while we start with him obsessing over finding John, and in Bugs it starts with Sam checking for cases in the newspaper while Dean hustles - we know from Bloody Mary Sam has Dean's money and he really is freeloading as a road trip not just in what he keeps telling everyone, but that Dean is allowing him to stay at a careful remove from feeling like he's actually just doing the job again.

Bugs also has all the good family stuff where we finally have Sam and Dean rehash the trauma of Sam leaving, as of course this is all open wounds to them because Sam left and they don't see each other again until the Pilot, so this is a needed and much-delayed conversation directly addressing for the first time not just on screen but ever, between them about Sam going to college and how HE felt in the family, like the outcast who wanted to be normal, and he gloms onto Matt who is having similar issues with his dad that baffles Dean about why Sam relates to it so much.

They're still going over early childhood > Sam leaving stuff in their dynamic and Sam really IS the kid brother on a road trip, and he is treated that way by the narrative in a lot of ways like this (also as in Sam sees this as a distraction and John and revenge is the real story/job/mission so hanging with Dean is as useful as road tripping :P I don’t think it’s just a cute excuse he uses over and over), probably up to Home, where it all starts getting more personal and real.

Sam gets to see Mary with his own eyes for the first time, and they have a bit more of a sense of being in it together and Sam being inducted into the family mythos, revisiting stuff that was very very abstract to him, and for a multitude of intents - writerly from the show and from Chuck and his "narrative symmetry" and the motives from the demons who conspired to kill Jess, that needed to happen to Sam to make it more real to him (in the same way Dean felt all along about Mary dying because that pain didn't go away just because it had been a long time. The point is NOT what Sam says that Dean doesn’t know how it feels - it’s that SAM didn’t but it’s fresh and awful and despite growing up surrounded by grief, fancy learning coping mechanisms from John? Hence, follows in his footsteps, revenge-obsessed).

Anyway! Asylum changes their dynamic now - Sam is beginning to be openly frustrated even before John sends them a case that Dean's dragging him around on the job when they should be getting revenge, and I think he's now still sort of road tripping until the end of the season because of his speech in Shadow about being a person again, and the flip only being demonstrated in 2x02 that he now is the one more dedicated to hunting and doing the job.

And during Asylum Sam vents to the psychiatrist under the guise of complaining about his road trip, presumably similar stuff but less murdery to what he yells at the end, and there's a whole thing with him being annoyed the kids think Dean is his boss. The fight continues in Scarecrow with Dean standing up for being a good soldier - I mean son - and Sam stomps off to find John. 2 episodes in a row he uses the road tripping excuse to vent about being stuck in close quarters with Dean bossing him around when he meets Meg and vents to her as well, but he has his realisation about family when Dean is in trouble and goes back.

After that he's immediately smacked with Faith, which is the first challenge one of them has of the other dying, and to which Sam has to save Dean at any close. His characterisation in this whole first chunk reminds me of season 10 Sam a great deal as I’ve recently rewatched it too (he has a "where's my brother!?" line in Skin which has like, the exact same delivery as 10x01's opening, among other little things which stood out to me) but this one episode in particular... Because he does save Dean, at a great cost, even having some very ominous-for-season 10 discussion about the evil black magic spell book and the desperation of Sue-Ann to bring Roy back, all of which made me laugh bitterly when I came through here on my post-season 10 rewatch, because it was pretty much word-for-word Sam's season 10 all in one episode, right down to the freakin pothole in Nebraska.

I think it's interesting Sam is the first one to make an ethically dubious/bad choice to save Dean (dubious since he didn't know it was bad, bad because he doubled down on it after - also looks much worse with at least 10 more years of canon rather than in the immediate moment it's just a bit edgy :P) while in season 2 Dean saves Sam selflessly and after a whole season of feeling brought back against the natural order (something I think is only exacerbating how he already felt since Faith and finding out what Sam did for him).

I think this is a way to tie Sam deeply into the family and make him prove he'd go so far for Dean after all his rebellion and anger at Dean, with Dean represented as the boss and the good son/older brother, that Sam isn't actually going to really stomp off any time soon. He takes several strong lessons in a row about family and reconciliation, starting with the mirror family in Bugs and like, every episode after that except in Asylum because it abuts Scarecrow and is an ongoing emotional arc one starts and the other resolves, again proving to Sam he was wrong and being with Dean and doing the job is more important than revenge. (For now - he still has this choice all season and makes a false analysis for easy conclusion to the story by the writers that Dean's all he has left and he doesn't know where John is, even though they only just talked to John for the first time to get solid proof he's alive, AND Sam thought he knew where he was for the first time as well and only didn't go there because of going back to help Dean).

That all shifts Sam's dynamic from a fairly equal partnership, where Sam was kind of along for the ride, but without being strictly tied into the family business because he was road tripping, he was basically like... a support hunter Dean took with him to not work alone, just, you know, the best hunter Dean knew for the job :P And that changes after the midseason to really make Sam ductaped firmly back into the family business. But once he's there, Dean goes from equal partner to older brother who is ALSO his boss in Sam's eyes (even though Dean's really just desperately following John's orders, and is the one fighting in general for the family business to continue, in an a-political way about Sam's role in it, just that Sam sees him deciding things and feels like it is Dean ordering him around... They have issues about it, basically :P), and once Sam reconciles with THAT he does ethically sketchy stuff to save Dean and doesn't regret it, which is more of a blood pact thing to reaffirm commitment and loyalty.

In Route 666 Dean calls the shots, and Sam plays a trust game with the church thing so they both get in a power play of sorts and Sam teases Dean the entire time about Cassie...

(But this is all Buckleming characterisation, which I tend to find completely backwards, and thanks to watching with my mum, I went from 1x13 to 10x03, and remembered I still want to write a tooth-grinding post about their characterisation because something about it really sets my teeth on edge specifically about Sam and it just occurred to me watching 10x03 that that was how they wrote him in 1x13 and it was vaguely justified there because specific scenario but like... is that just their impression of who Sam is? Anyway in 10x03 there's lines he could have said seriously or whatever but there's like, a Buckleming Face Sam has/Jared uses and it makes me massively intrigued to know wtf tone suggestions they put in their scripts because almost without fail Sam only acts like this in their episodes and the grimace Jared uses delivering their Sam dialogue, even relatively inoffensive lines, is like at least a full 30% of why their episodes make my teeth grind because wtf he never does it in any other episodes with any other writers, it's like he has a separate personality to play Buckleming!Sam?? This is all massively beside the point except to say on realising that I decided that I just cba to analyse that one for personal arc stuff :P)

And in Nightmare, Sam's back to a sort of subordinate role in the power dynamic because he has to prove to Dean his visions are real (I think Dean totally believes him he just really really badly doesn't WANT them to be real but it means Sam spends the first 10 minutes needlessly arguing his case wanting to be believed) and then at the end Dean coddles him with a protective you've got me you'll be fine speech, which again puts himself in the role of protector to Sam.

I feel like from here on out their dynamic is hashed out a bit more firmly with all these specific things having happened in relation to all the main arcs - Sam's powers, the family business, John, Sam n Dean, saving each other from death, the whole lot, which as I said up the top, OBVIOUSLY day-to-day they still act very equally and usually, unless plot reasons, have 100% equal trust on cases and work side by side very well. But long-term, I can see a LOT of character stuff settling on Sam that becomes his pattern of thinking (e.g. the stuff in Asylum & Scarecrow especially betraying how he feels as the younger brother being bossed around) that in the first handful of episodes at least up to Home wasn't an issue or a part of their dynamic and they were going for a brothers on a roadtrip vibe without a lot of these Dire Obligations or Life And Death Pacts and so on.

I think Sam hasn't really been able to get out of this because season 5 was supposed to resolve it, but season 6 and 7 have something constantly wrong with him until Cas fixes him for good, so Dean spends a great deal of Gamble era having to deal with each new thing that happens to Sam, frequently acting with power of attorney to fix him and get his soul back etc for his own good. Sam has a blissful free space in his life from 7x17-7x23 and got to work equally and fairly and without any massive interpersonal drama or whatever with Dean (though for most of season 7 after they reconcile say from 7x09 onwards they have one of their best dynamics with the least interpersonal drama once they let go the Amy fight), and then Carver takes over and gives Sam 1 more year or so of recovery off-screen only to smash it all up with a sledgehammer and regress him all the way back to how bad he was in 8x23... Which we’ve been recovering from for all the characters ever since.

Anywho I said I wasn't going to get all obsessed about that, but the point is that watching season 1 and knowing where Sam is going to be coming from in season 12 about his own personal growth and how HE views it, I can see some interesting stuff because a lot of season 1 is Sam VOICING how he feels about their dynamic, job and lives, because it's the exposition season to get us involved in their lives and there's a lot of telling and explaining hot they feel about this that and the other. Knowing how Sam says he didn't want to lead and so on, his original issues with leadership was that he felt he had a mind of his own and Dean didn't and he didn't WANT to be bossed around by Dean, and to do his own thing. And season 1 subsumes him into the family business, and it leaves me thinking about the ever-relevant 10x05, and how the line about John in "The Road So Far" was that he took away their free will.

I sort of feel like watching season 1, you can see Sam giving ground over and over again in these fights. I know there's more to come, but the important flip next is in 1x16 where it stops being Sam swinging against Dean's position in the family, and goes back to Sam vs John, where it stays for the rest of the season and of course ending in 2x01 with John leaving them on a fight and 2x02 Sam having given himself over to the job and not really getting a break from then on to even dream of something normal until he hit a dog...

So that's all totally different territory in season 1 because there wasn’t much/any Sam vs John stuff in season 12 that I can think of (idk if sharp-eyed Sam fans caught a narrative about it I didn’t see making its way onto my dash), so I think I've watched the parts now which exposition most clearly how Sam ends up essentially following Dean into the family business and in the main arc stuff seeing himself as still being the kid brother being bossed around and made to do it somewhat against his will to have a normal life even if as I say, in general unless this point is being made, Dean rarely if ever acts like this towards Sam and Sam seems to have all the freedom he likes to call the shots in their dynamic because Dean will totally trust him with all the normal parts of their job without being precious about taking his lil brother into fights...

Obviously there’s a hell of a lot more intervening trauma and I think Carver era does a LOT to Sam to beat him down from a relatively balanced, happy-with-himself-and-the-universe place so to actually trace WHY Sam felt like he did in 12x22 you’d start at 8x01 and begin counting THERE, but looking at season 12 through a season 1 lens is really interesting to me.

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zarinthelwrites · 7 years

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Ancient and Most Noble

I wrote like 3k of a HP self insert then realized that i’d need to rewrite the whole thing due to leaving out important plot points. If I get encouragement I’ll write more? Probably.

Killian’s first memory is of screams, terrible screams that turn to hoarse murmurs while a woman laughs and laughs and laughs. Well. Not quite. Killian’s first memories are of another world, a world where there is no Cruciatus Curse, a world where she has four grandparents and two parents and so very many cousins who she could play with.

So, not very much like this one at all.

But in this world she has a brother. Killian’s never had one of those, before. She still does wonder, sometimes. If having a brother is enough of a reason to stay in this world full of shadows, to live through the screams every night. They echo in her dreams. Killian used to love to sleep.

Having a brother isn’t enough of a reason, not really. She had siblings, before. She’s even had a twin before! And Killian has never been very good at turning her motivation towards other people.

So if not for her brother, why is she here? Food? House elf cooked meals? A library full of books? Chocolate frogs?

In the end, it’s childish fancy that always pulls her through, time and time again. Killian will put up with ten years of nightmares, will cry into a pillow every night, if only she can go and see Hogwarts. She wants to see Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley, she wants to see Sirius Black’s flying motorcycle and a dragon sanctuary and......and on and on. The magic... the magic doesn't matter. She wants to see a world built out of paragraphs and mad dreams. She wants to watch impossible things from her breakfast table.

There is a very small knock on her bedroom door. She would have missed it entirely, if he didn’t knock at the exact same time every night.

“Come in, Nev,” she said. “The door’s not locked.” If you’re not safe in your own home, you’re not safe anywhere.

The door creaked open, and she flinched anyways.

“Keeley...” Nev whispered. He looked so short in the doorway, so small in his tailored pajamas. If the only male heir of the Longbottom line wasn’t dressed properly, then what did it say about their Family? Nothing good, nothing good. Killian could hear Callidora’s smirking portrait clucking to herself from all the way down the hall. He was only six years old, Killian thought suddenly. She had never been any good at keeping track of time.

Killian realized he was still standing in the doorway and hastily gestured for him to come in and shut the door behind him. Grandmother Augusta didn’t approve of sharing a bed when there were so many empty rooms in the house.

Grandmother Augusta had not taken the death of her only son very well.

Killian helped Neville up beside her, letting him hug her for as long as she could stand it. She never really liked touching other people. It made her tense, it made her stiff. She hugged him back anyway. It was the least she could do, she thought. Maybe it was the best she could do.

“Keeley...” Neville whispered again. “Keeley, do you remember what Grandpa Jeph said?”

“Don’t put a spider in a woman’s purse and then laugh when she screams?” Killian didn’t want to talk about what Grandpa Jeptha had said.

Neville shuddered, but pressed on. “No, Keeley. What he said about...what he said about mummy and...and...” His shoulders were shaking now, practically vibrating with the effort of forcing out the words. “They’ll never remember us,” he whispered into her neck. He choked his sobs into silence, a slight high pitched whine escaping as he tried to gasp for breath.

It hurt, but Killian had always known that her existence would likely do nothing to bring Alice and Frank out of their madness. They had already loved Neville with everything they had. If love couldn’t do it, then nothing but death would free them, as Grandpa Jeptha had so kindly pointed out.

Grandmother took Killian and Neville to visit the spellward every week. She no longer brought Grandpa Jeptha with her.

“They sacrificed themselves for you,” Grandmother Augusta would say, when Neville or Killian were late to clean themselves up for the hospital visit, whenever Neville missed a step and tumbled down the stairs, bruising himself and messing up his robes. “Be grateful. Be proud.”

Alice had begun to collect wrappers. The nurses said it was a positive sign.

“It’ll be okay,” said Killian, which was a lie. “We’ll get through this.” A partial lie. Neville would get through this, of course. At his core, Neville was steel. Killian was just a girl with nightmares and executive dysfunction. She would try, but.

She wanted to watch Hogwart’s staircases move.

The comments about Neville’s weight were getting worse. Killian ate more than Neville, and she ate sugar and fat for most of her meals. She still looked fine.

“Just like her mother,” said Great Aunt Enid.

“The boys wont know what hit them,” said Great Uncle Algie.

Neville stopped wearing tailored clothing.

Great Uncle Algie told the story about the time when he dropped toddler Neville from the third story window, and watched his head bounce off the cobblestones below. He told it every Christmas, so many times that it was more like a memory than a story by now. Killian could almost picture it, him letting go of a squib to grap at a lemon meringue. He laughed when he told it. “The boy’s not a squib afterall!” Laughter from Grandpa Jeptha. Pursed lips from Grandmother Augusta. Neville would stare at the floor.

The next Christmas, Great Uncle Algie had a new story to tell.

Killian and Neville had been down by the Blackpool pier, watching the waves. Neville had dug up a book about the type of plants that only grew in briny waters soaked by the new moon, Spirit Thimbleweed, Life’s Cress, Silent Sage... he could talk for hours about plants.

It had been a beautiful morning, fog touching the tips of the trees and dew drops scattering the light across the water. The pixies were dancing across the water, laughing and giggling to themselves and they played a fatal game of tag with the jumping carp.

The book had been completely ruined, when Great Uncle Algie came up behind Neville and pushed him into the dark water. He held him down, wrinkled face splitting into his storytelling grin. “What’s the matter, squib?” He asked. “Any son deserving of Frank’s legacy should be able to get himself out of this.”

Neville sputtered up water, face red and eyes wet from more than just the lake water.

“What’s that, squib? I can’t hear you.”

Neville wheezed, legs flailing. “W-w-watchhh....out..”

Killian kicked her Great Uncle Algie into the lake. He was old, and he was already more than halfway into the water. It wasn’t a great feat by any means.

“What’s the matter, Uncle?” Killian asked. “Any wizard deserving of the Longbottom name should be able to get himself out of this.” She sounded like the pictures on the walls-- Absentminded and cold, capturing the face without the spirit.

Neville pulled himself out of the lake and stood up on the pier, ruined book still clutched to his chest. No wonder he had been drowning, if he hadn’t let go of the book the entire time.

What would she have done if he had drowned?

“We need to help him,” said Neville. “We’ve stirred up the Serpent Stammerwort that grows at the bottom of the lake. He won’t be able to get out on his own.”

And he didn’t think he’d be placed in Gryffindor. Honestly.

Killian looked at the robes she was wearing, shrugged, and jumped in, quickly swimming over to where her Great Uncle had trapped himself with this confused arm swinging.

“Stop moving,” said Killian. Her voice hadn’t changed at all from when she’d kicked him in. “Look to your left. No, your other left. Yes, the left with Neville. Take his hand, he’s stronger than he looks. Yes, they’re letting you go and focusing on me now. Take his hand and let him help you out. There you go, now you’re up.” The weeds bit at her feet, and she bit her lip in turn. He had gotten them revved up, and now she took his place.

Great Uncle Algie watched from the shore, preventing Neville from helping her out of the lake.

Killian stomped down hard as she made her way out, feet leaving bloody trails behind her. The Serpent Stammerwort seethed behind her. A Lord had not visited for six years, now. The lake was waiting impatiently.

Frank Longbottom would never return to walk the land.

“Maybe the line won't end after all,” says Great Uncle Algie. He is still watching her, thoughtful.

“Neville’s book is ruined,” says Killian.

“It’s fine,” says Neville. “It’s...It’s just a book.”

There is no such thing as just a book.

Great Uncle Algie stops telling stories about mistaking his own Great Nephew for a squib. He has other stories, stories about foreign lands teeming with strange plants and wildlife and foreign wizards with their substandard spells.

He had served against Grindelwald, had chased him all over the world. Except he didn’t call him Grindelwald, he called him Dumbledore’s Folly, and shook his head in disgust.

Grandpa Jeptha also has stories about the height of Grindelwald’s power, great spells powered from the weight of despair, a patronus so powerful that it lasted past the owner's death, dragged their entire squad through a cursed forest just to dig an unmarked grave for its young master.

Great Aunt Enid served too, and she has a single picture of a room piled high with wands, neatly stacked in rows. She does not speak of it.

At first Grandpa Jeptha coughs, and then a week later he coughs up blood. It happens sometimes, especially to Families as pure as the Longbottoms. They call it Cruor Aqua, and it is a mark of pride. The blood called to the water, and the water called back.

The family Witnesses Grandpa Jeptha’s death. Blood to water, river to earth. Blessings on ash, blessings on birch.

The Longbottoms escort Grandpa Jeptha’s ashes from one side of their valley to the other. The urn floats above the river, suspended by the weight of thousands of years. Grandmother Augusta is singing, strange and piercing. Her words echo in the wrong places. Neville carries a plant, and whispers to it. It is a saltwater plant, Killian notices. He was careful to pick a plant that would benefit from his tears.

Great Uncle Algie and Great Aunt Enid are both silent in their grief.

Killian keeps walking. The river is pulsing to the beat of her headache. All of her tears are for herself in the dark, how can she have any to spare for a man like Grandpa Jeptha?

That night, there is a very small knock on her bedroom door.

“Come in, Nev,” says Killian. “The door’s not locked.” She’d been in the middle of trying to brush out her hair, the same dirty blonde that Alice’s used to be before the Cruciatus turned her hair white. It was long now, almost to her waist.

The door creaked open, and she flinched.

“Keeley...” said Neville. He was nine years old, and wore lumpy pajamas that had seen better days. The last male heir, in such a state. It was a good thing that Grandmother Augusta had been burning pureblood event notices for years. Callidora found watching the bonfire to be soothing for her delicate nerves.

He went and sat down next to her.

“Can I hug you?”

Killian nodded.

Neville wasn’t very good at hugging, probably because he had no one to practice on and little experience with it himself. Her fault, that. She collapsed against him anyway, tripping over her own tongue to try to get the words out.

“I didn’t even like him, he was always going on about how our father was betraying his duty by being crazy, he’s rude to Somney, he says terrible things to you that aren’t true, he once told me that he’d need to arrange a marriage for me because blood was the only thing going for me--” Killian cut herself off, breath hitching in her throat. “Every year he’d give me a piece of jewelry from a different part of the world, and tell me about the most beautiful thing he’d seen there.” They were her most prized possessions.

The first one had been a butterfly pin, made of silver filigree and citrine. It flapped its wings when placed in her hair, and sometimes flew around the room when it wasn’t perched in her jewelry box.

Last year Grandmother Augusta had given her all of Alice’s jewelry, packed away in a carved onyx trunk. She still hadn’t opened it.

Killian was getting her tears and snot all over Neville’s pajama top. How embarrassing.

“He used to sneak me chocolate frogs,” said Neville suddenly. “He said that... dad used to collect the cards.”

He was crying too, Killian realized. She hadn’t noticed.

Neville continued. “Grandmother said that... if I don’t become Lord, then the Longbottom family will end. I don’t understand, Keeley. You’re here, aren’t you? Keeley, are you going to go away?” His voice cracked at the end of the sentence. “Keeley, please don’t go.”

Killian’s breath stuttered in her lungs.

“Nev,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his. They were a muddy blue grey, the same as her own. “Nev. I’m not very good at keeping promises, you know. Remember that time when you asked me to keep an eye on your stuff and then I forgot and wandered off into a bookstore?” Neville had never been able to find his lost belongings.

“You remember promises,” said Neville. “You just do things anyway.”

“You know me too well, little brother,” said Killian, trying to make the words closer to a joke and less a gaping wound.

“Keeley...” said Neville. He hugged her closer for a second, then let go as she tensed up. “I’m only six minutes younger than you,” he sighed.

Killian reached over to her bedside table and pulled out a book titled Herb Gathering in the Foglight Forest, an Accounting of Grave and Treacherous Encounters. She liked stories about adventures, and Neville liked plants, so it was worth spending days looking for another copy after its previous dip in the Blackpool. They spent the rest of the night pouring over its pages, and saying nothing of anything as they traced their finger over beautifully sketched flowers and faded ink.

“I love you, you know,” Killian said at the end of the night. Killian was not a very communicative person, and couldn’t remember ever telling him before. Couldn’t remember anyone telling him that before, actually. So it was important.

The next year, Grandmother Augusta deemed it time for the twins to learn how to dance. It was strange, really. Grandmother Augusta never seemed to mind what Killian and Neville did, most of the time. Or perhaps that was her social blinders, hard at work like always. She could ask Neville, if Grandmother Augusta minded after all. Killian shook her head. She didn’t want to know. She instead focused on what they were not stopped from doing. They could visit any of the Longbottom properties-- at least, the few that Frank did not have to give access to-- they could read any book in the library that they could reach, they could take care of the gardens that covered acres, full of strange plants that grew wild. Somney was a traditional house elf, and did not tend the grounds.

It was quite a lot, when listed out like that. Or not much at all, from the perspective of learning how to talk to people their own age.

How old was she, really?

Killian had known how to waltz, before. She had learned in four inch heels and a dress that swept the floor, and she had loved it like she loved books, which is to say, quite a lot. She smiled when she danced, so wide and bright that Grandmother Augusta dropped her wand in shock, and Neville fainted and had to be revived.

Neville was not quite so graceful on his first attempt, nor on his twentieth.

The Genealogy lectures had always been there, but they grew more frequent, and more intense. Neville, who had issues with rote memorization, and Killian, who was both face blind and unable to do rote memorization, did the best that they could, which was terrible indeed.

They were ten years old, and neither of the twins had shown any overt signs of magic. Grandmother Augusta did not take this well. She would set of loud noises, in hopes that magic would flare in startlement. She turned Neville’s favorite plant into a spider. For a week, all the books in the library were bound shut.

She did an excellent job of triggering Killian and Neville’s latent PTSD, if not their magic.

#harry potter #My writing #self insert #I actually really enjoy making up harry potter lore so ill probably get up the effort to write more

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barbecuedphoenix · 7 years

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Which chick movie do you think the Eldarya guys would (really, really, in a embarrassing way) love?

This was a fun request. ^u^

It’s just a shame that Idon’t know that many chick-flicks, so I included a few male-POV romances toround this out. I tried my best. :(

So, assuming that the guyswere spirited away to the 20th - 21st century humanrealm, and grew up here watching our movies…

Nevra

Are you kidding? He knows all the chick-flicks! Growing up with akid sister, he used to watch at least one romance a week. (Frankly, this started out as a way to keep her out oftrouble on weekends, but it morphed into a routine once she entered her tweens.Now, they still meet up for movie marathons every few weeks. It’s theirguilty pleasure.)

He is definitely not ashamedof watching chick movies. Their stories generally have more character and heartthan, say, testosterone-pumped action flicks that all guys are ‘supposed’ towatch. Not to mention that women’s movies have a much higher proportion of eye candy because of the female lead’sscreen time…

But the biggest real life benefit?Knowing and liking chick-flicks is a boonwhen a guy is picking up a date. You all wonder why Nevra is so popular withwomen? Blame his sister for training him up on their entertainment.

What he enjoys:

Powerful and ambitious,but flawed heroes with initially zero chance of ‘getting the girl’… and gettheir hearts stomped on at least once. Their common Achilles heel:loneliness.

Plucky, but innocentheroines who unknowingly hold the power to twist their man’s heart. And ifthey’re smoking-hot on the screen, he’s got another good reason to watch themovie.

Power-games, schemes,and corporate backstabbing shenanigans, where there is no clear dividebetween wrong and right.

Snappy dialogue witha cynical touch

(Crazily) balancing life’s priorities: first sacrificing love on the altar for ambition, power,reputation, etc. And then sacrificing more to get it back.

Redemption andforgiveness for the lead(s).

Personaltransformation in order to get ahead in life, and then again to win or save arelationship. (i.e. rags-to-riches Cinderella themes)

High-budget movieswith A-list actors; he likes qualityentertainment, thank you. He’ll also watch anything with Harrison Ford init.

Favorite ‘chick’ movies:

Sabrina (the1995 remake): This movie embodies everything Nevra loves in a romantic-comedy.He loves the story, the dialogue, and all the actors. But he reallyfeels for the hero Linus (quote from the movie: ‘the world’s only living heartdonor’), who starts off seducing the heroine to save his family’s businessinterests and his brother’s engagement, only to fall in love with her.Then gets the door slammed in his face once the love-of-his-life learns hisreasons and leaves the country. …What? He swears that has never happened to him before.

The Devil Wears Prada (2006): This is more of a laugh-fest for Nevrathan a romance. Keeping your head above water using your wits in NYC, whilescurrying around for an ultra-glamorous, fire-breathing boss with personalissues? Andy isn’t the typical heroine he likes to follow, but he sure wisheshe has an employee like her. But he is nota fire-breathing boss! What are you implying?

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast(1991): You read that correctly. Whether animated, live-action, or on Broadway,this classic holds a firm place in Nevra’s heart. This is also the one moviehe’s embarrassed to love. He was skeptical first at watching aG-rated movie—Karenn had dragged him to see it when she was a kid–, but he wasthe one who teared up when the Beast released Belle, thus doominghimself to life as a pariah and monster. (His mental dialogue during thatscene: “Of course he had to let her go! He loved her!”. His mental dialoguelater when the lynch mob arrived: “You bastards! Leave him alone! Hasn’t hesuffered enough?!”) Nevra still gets a reaction when Karenn starts humming theBeast’s solo– ‘If I Can’t Love Her’– from the musical.

Ezarel

Chick-flicks?Ugh! Spare him the torture! There must be other types of brainlessentertainment you can subject him to.

Ezarel won’t be caught deadwatching a romantic-comedy. Not unless it’s a very quirky, nontraditional,indie movie that’s more bittersweet than sentimental, makes fun of its owncharacters, and isn’t exclusively told from the female POV. That way, he’ll sayhe’s watching a screwball comedy instead. (So it has a little romance in it. What movie doesn’t, these days?)

What he enjoys:

A cast ofcompletely-flawed, borderline obnoxious characters, who rarely get what theydeserve (good or bad).

An underdog leadingman (or woman), who’s the only smart one in the movie and frequently a lonelyoutcast. (He will not tolerate anair-headed protagonist.)

Fast-paced trollingdialogue, non-stop sarcastic humor, and screwball jokes. Pranks are a bonus.

Realisticrelationships (i.e. with all the ugly baggage, awkwardness, and confusion thathappen in real life).

The constant struggleto overcome distance, misunderstanding, and social obstacles. (i.e. the ideathat people are completely unreliable, and that romance never makes sense.)

Unrequited love andbittersweet endings.

Breaking movietraditions and the fourth wall. If a movie is serious from start-to-finish, andasks him to suspend disbelief for 90+ minutes, then Ez practically fallsasleep.

Cult classics. A-Listblockbusters are pretentious, and plain boring.Give him weird animations, weirder stories, and bizarre camera angles anyday.

Favorite Romantic Comedies:

Annie Hall(1977): Ezarel adores Woody Allen, and this movie is seen as ‘The Romance’ inhis collection. He can watch this film over and again just to catch allthe references and in-jokes. He also turns to this movie for general lessons onhow to cope with relationships. And you all wonder why he’s so salty.

What If (2013):One of the few modern romances with a happy ending that still has Ezarellaughing out of his seat. He knows the friend-zone very well, and how it’seasier (and more dignified) to stay there rather than to try to climb out. He certainly does not hope that what happens to Wallacehappens to him one day. He’ll gladly live life without falling for a friend andgetting punched down the stairs.

Amelie (2001):He always turns beet-red when someone catches him watching this classic.Because he only watches it for the pranks and the deadpan narration, he swears!All right, so he feels a bit sorry for the quirky outcasts Amelie and Nino too,and he sort of likes the convoluted, pinball-machine way they finally find eachother. It doesn’t mean he enjoys thatlast, sugary scene of them laughing together like idiots on a bike. Tch. You never saw him watch this movie.

Valkyon

He’s quite neutral on romanticcomedies. To him, it’s just another movie genre that doesn’t fall on his listof favorites. Why spend 90+ minutes on a handful of little arguments that can technicallybe resolved in just 15 minutes? He doesn’t get it.

So the only romantic elementthat he can enjoy is if it’s tangled into a greater conflict that heunderstands. Like war, penance, and exile. That’s when it really hits home for him. (This also means that Valkyon is actually the weakest of the three guys for stories about‘true love’, so long as they’re packaged as epic sagas.)

What he enjoys:

True heroes/heroines,who weather the curve-balls life throws at them without complaining, and try to hold onto their honor despite trying times.

Turbulent, large-scaleconflicts, but where there is still a clear divide between what’s wrong andright on the individual scale. (i.e. war dramas)

Crossing cultures andborders, and adapting to difficult new circumstances.

‘Pure love’ that is more seen and implied than spoken and argued about. And which enduresboth time and distance, despite great forces tearing the couple apart.

Dramatic reunions.

Tragic endings.

Sweeping landscape shots and vistas. (Really, it’s the best way to immerse the audience in the story.)

Historical accuracy.The story may be fictional, but it shouldn’t completely abandon reality; otherwise it’s pure fantasy orpropaganda. In the end, the most powerful stories come from real life.

Favorite (romantic) movies:

‘Atonement’ (2007):His favorite romance of all time, hands down. It’s also the most tragic film hehas ever seen. Don’t bother taking him to see the next installment in ‘FiftyShades’; this movie has inoculated Valkyon against all cheery/sexy romanticfilms. Most other romances are just so… pettycompared to what happened between Cecilia and Robbie. Other screen-writers shouldstart putting in more themes of loss in their plots.

‘Zero Motivation’(2014): The only real ‘chick flick’that Valkyon actually likes, because it’s such a spot-on portrayal of the screwylife of military recruits (like the ones he commands). The first time he sawit, he smiled knowingly to himself throughout the whole movie. Because he haspersonally seen all the pranks, the sassing to superior officers, and thebarracks feuds that erupt from boredom, stress, a general refusal to getalong, and well, exactly zero motivation. It’s even funnier to see it up on thesilver screen.

‘The Last Samurai’(2003): This movie used to be number one on Valkyon’s list… until someone broke it tohim that real samurai are a lot less romantic and used guns by the time theywere disbanded. That’s why he’s embarrassed to admit that he still loves thisfilm. In fact, the ‘armoring’ scene between Capt. Algren and the samurai’swidow he fell for, prior to the suicidal battle, had him squeezing his date’shand very hard in the dark of the movie theater (result: they yelped loudenough to disturb the whole row). Even now, Valkyon firmly believes that thescreenwriter meant for the captain toremain in Japan and find her again after the war.

Edit: Whoops. Did you just say chick movie? As in, one? Looks like I went overboard again. >_> Nuts.

#request #headcanon #Eldarya #Ezarel #Nevra #Valkyon

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themostmagnificentgoatee · 6 years

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I finally found out what it is about Life is Strange that really resonates with me on such a deep level and draws me back to it in a way that other games may have managed, but not truly mastered.

From the very beginning, the game presents us with intricate relationships that obviously have much more depth than the mere fraction that we actually get to see. Don’t EVER tell me what to do. I’m so SICK of people trying to control me! Even the people that are detestable in the worst ways, demonstrating their violent tendencies openly, without them being swept under the rug, have something about them that evoke both pity and nostalgia, even if one of those things are so much bigger than the other when it comes to some characters.

And the game goes on, flaunting the flawed characters and all of their issues, as well as drawing the player deeper into it as the submersion works its magic. Chloe Price roars back into the life of Max Caulfield with screeching tires and it’s just so painfully obvious that between these two young women, who are still so young and feel both invincible and breakable at the same time, that there are some remnants of an old relationship that the world got in the way of. It just screams of hurt and a mutual lack of communication and understanding that was ultimately down to rotten luck and bad chance. Max?! Chloe?! Just those two words to each other and what do you know, despite one of them having been absent for five years and the other having undergone such a dramatic change that’s its bordering on comical, it took them around four seconds to recognize one another.

And we’re treated to a game of five episodes that feel simultaneously appropriately long and far too short, with a plot that’s overshadowed by a relationship that quickly falls back into what we can all recognize as an old dynamic that’s just been waiting to resurface. From the get-go it’s just so clear that Max and Chloe are so right for each other, even if they’ve both made mistakes and hurt each other and been stubborn and hard-headed and said and done the wrong things at the worst possible times. They’re still doing things they’d get in trouble for, like trespassing and smoking and whatnot. However, there are the better things too, like dancing in a room with the smoke of a cigarette filling the air with the clicking of a camera going off from the sidelines and goofing off in a junkyard.

There are so many horrible things in this game. There’s a girl who decides that the only way to get out of the living nightmare that she can’t seem to wake up from is to put herself to sleep, there’s a girl with a mother undergoing treatments at the hospital, there’s mental illness, drugs, PTSD, abuse of authority, violence, anger and hurt stemming from much more than the brief period of time we’re privileged enough to get to see.

But to me, that only makes the relationship between Max and Chloe that much more extraordinary, their bright moments of innocence that much more appreciable.

And then, there’s the ending. At its release, there was an outcry from the fanbase, universal disappointment in the two choices that glossed over all that we’d seen, done and gotten attached to.

But in my mind, these two endings were so tragically beautiful, with so many things and themes coming full-circle that I wouldn’t be able to tell you which of the two final paths is my favorite even if I wanted to make that choice.

Perhaps one day I’ll make a longer post about these two endings, but for now, here is my summary; Sacrificing Arcadia Bay? Chloe Elizabeth Price got the worst cards dealt to her when her father died, her best friend moved away, her grades plummeted and her new whirlwind-bestie suddenly up and disappeared, something that had to feel horribly familiar by that point. But suddenly, there’s a person who stomps back into her life and shouts NO! No, you’ve suffered enough. This could be the time for a selfless, heroic, faceless act, but I won’t make that choice. I am putting you first. I will not repeat my mistakes. I will not give you up again. I will hold on. I will not give up on you. I am putting you first. Fuck that! No way! You are my number one priority now. You are all that matters to me. To me, this choice shifts the entire focus of this game to Chloe. It effectively makes it all her story. The story of hurt feelings and bad choices and the worst luck in the world, yes, but also love, perseverance, courage and, most importantly, friendship. And sacrificing Chloe? At this time there is an ongoing police/faculty investigation but Max’s heroism is undisputed. This, in contrast to the alternative choice, makes the story belong to Max. A hipster with a polaroid camera was suddenly shoved into the spotlight and instead of falling flat on her face, she waded through psychopaths, deaths and sacrifices and came into her own and became a brilliant young woman with a story of epic proportions. Max Caulfield saved an entire town, her home, from a tornado, and she did it all with nothing but a camera, the best sidekick she could have ever asked for and some minor powers over space, time and reality. It hurt like hell doing all that. It’s painful and gritty and not happy at all. But then a blue butterfly lands on the coffin. And there’s a golden necklace in the shape of a doe around Max’s neck. Wherever I end up after this... in whatever reality... all those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours.

At my first school, I was bullied. My classmates would gang up on me, yell at me and I’d call my mom after a few short hours at school, sobbing and begging to go home, and I’d do that nearly every day of every week when the bullying and ostracizing was at its zenith. I had a teacher there. She was a decent teacher, a tad bit eccentric, but good enough. But then, suddenly, she wasn’t. She flat out told my parents that I would have to “dumb myself down”, because my skills in reading and spelling and general schoolwork was bringing down the confidence of my classmates. I also had a friend. She had red curls, glasses and a wide, white smile. We were different, silly and sometimes, very far apart in every way. But then, me and my family moved to another city because I was being bullied so much and my mental state was so wrecked my parents actually feared that I would take my own life. And my second school no doubt saved my life. The teachers were great. My friends were great. I was great. Things couldn’t be better. A new girl came to that school. Her hair was yellow and her laughter was dorky and her jokes were loud and sometimes stupid. I loved her so much. I’d visit her every week, sleep at her place, play with her dog and she’d come visit me and we’d laugh and laugh and laugh and oh, I loved her so much that it was almost painful. But then, a new girl started too. She was nice. A bit awkward. Much more quiet than me. But she and that girl that I felt outshone the sun hit it off from her first day and they were attached at the hips after that. I never hated any of them. How could I? I retreated. The visits stopped. Suddenly, me and my best friend that I’d longed to find every day of my life barely spoke once a month. I wasn’t angry, mind you. Just disappointed, sad and a little bit hurt. I haven’t spoken to any of them for years now. A new girl then started in that wonderful class and I decided to try again. The desire for a best friend, for weekly weekend visits, ice cream on the porch, silly photographs and someone who tried for me instead of the other way around, that was so strong and still is. I took her out for lunch, but she told me she never ate takeaway. Not in a bad way, just as a matter of fact. She grew close to another small circle of my friends. We rarely talked after that, but we had a decent relationship. Just not particularly close. I decided I needed more skills at socializing. I changed school again, despite that second one being the best place I’ve still yet to be. The third one was grand, impressive, with three trips to other countries in just one year. I lived on that school and the other five girls in my house were colorful, fun, supportive, but they were still down-to-earth. We still talk, but there have been no phonecalls, no promises to keep in touch, no casual ‘I love you’s. Now, I’m at my fourth school and I just can’t be bothered to try anymore. I’m too old, too withdrawn, too snappish and too strange for anyone to try now. I can’t see the point of relentlessly pursuing a heartfelt relationship if I’m the only one pursuing it. That’s the problem that’s always haunted me, that I expect that desperate desire for a friend who loves me, who would put me first, to be mutual. Mind you, I have a best friend. I’ve never met her, but I know that she exists. I do love her, but it’s a distant love. I’ve only ever written to her. She’s an ocean away from me. There have been no photos, no laughter, no hugs, but I don’t blame her. I blame me. After all, she deserves better.

No matter how you twist and turn it, Long Max Silver and Captain Bluebeard will always be Max and Chloe, even when they’re apart. There is absolutely no doubt that they love each other, that they are such a big part of each other’s lives that they’re willing to risk and sacrifice ridiculous things for the other. That instant connection, that easy relationship that they fall back into the same day of their reunion is one that I’ve only ever been able to dream of and oh, how I do.

That’s what really resonates with me on such a deep level and draws me back to it in a way that no other game has done.

#Life is strange #Personal #Long #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #It's late and I've been trying to put this into words for a good while now #Feel free to scroll past this if you don't want to get absorbed into the mess that is my psychology

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ravenmorganleigh · 8 years

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25 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT PLOT

Previous iterations of the “25 Things” series:

25 Things Every Writer Should Know

25 Things You Should Know About Storytelling

25 Things You Should Know About Character

And now…

1. WHAT THE FIDDLY FUCK IS “PLOT,” ANYWAY?

A plot is the sequence of narrative events as witnessed by the audience.

2. THE WRONG QUESTION

Some folks will ask, incorrectly, “What’s the plot?” which, were you to answer them strictly, you would begin to recite for them a litany of events, each separated by a deep breath and the words, “And then…” They probably don’t want that. What they mean to ask is, “What’s the story?” or, “What’s this about?” Otherwise you’re just telling them what happened, start to finish. In other words: snore.

3. A GOOD PLOT IS LIKE A SKELETON: CRITICAL, YET INVISIBLE

A plot functions like a skeleton: it is both structural and supportive. Further, it isn’t entirely linear. A plot has many moving parts (sub-plots and pivot points) that act as limbs and joints. The best plots are plots we don’t see, or rather, that the audience never has to think about. As soon as we think about it, it’s like a needle manifests out of thin air and pops the balloon or lances that blister. Remember, we don’t walk around with our skeletons on the outside of our body, which is good because, ew. What are we, ants? So don’t show off your plot. Let the plot remain hidden, invisible.

4. SHIT’S GOTTA MAKE SENSE, SON

The biggest plot crime of them all is a plot that doesn’t make a lick of goddamn sense. That’s a one way ticket to plot jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200 dollars. Do not drop the soap. The elegance of a great plot is that, when the events are all strung together, there exists a natural order as if this was the only way they could fit together. It’s like dominoes tumbling. Your plot is not a chimera: random parts mashed together because you didn’t think it through. Test the plot. Show people. Pull the pieces apart and ask, “Is there a better way?” Nonsense plots betray the potency of story.

5. THE QUINTESSENTIAL PLOT

The simplest motherfucker of a plot is this: things get worse until they get better. A straight-up escalation of conflict. It goes from “Uh-oh, that’s bad,” to, “Uh-oh, it’s getting worse,” to “Oh, holy shit, it can’t get any worse,” to, “I think I maybe maybe fixed it, or at least stopped it from being so totally and completely fucked.” When in doubt, just know that your next step as a storyteller is to bring the pain, amp the misery, and escalate the conflict. That’s what they mean by the advice, “Have a man with a gun walk through the door.” You can take that literally, sure, but what it means is: the bad news just got worse.

6. IN LIFE WE AVOID CONFLICT, IN FICTION WE SEEK IT

Fiction is driven by characters in conflict, or, put differently, the flame of fiction grows brighter through friction. A match-tip lights only when struck; so too is the mechanism by which a gun fires a bullet. Impact. Tension. Fear. Danger. Need to know what impels your plot forward? Look to the theme of Man Versus [fill-in-the-blank]. Man versus his fellow man. Woman versus nature. Man versus himself. Woman versus an angry badger riding a unicorn. Find the essential conflict and look for events that are emblematic to that.

7. WANT VERSUS FEAR

Of course, the essence of the essential conflict — the one below all that Wo/Man versus stuff — is a character’s wants versus a character’s fears. Plot grows from this fecund garden. The character wants life, revenge, children, a pony — and that which he fears must stand in his way. John McClane must battle terrorists to return to his wife. Indiana Jones must put up with snakes and irritating sidekicks to uncover the artifact. I must put up with walking downstairs to make myself a gin-and-tonic. Everything that stands in a character’s way — the speedbumps, roadblocks, knife-wielding monkeys, ninja clones, tornadoes, and sentient Krispy Kreme donuts sent from the future to destroy man via morbid obesity — are events in the greater narrative sequence: they are pieces of the plot.

8. GROW THE PLOT, DON’T BUILD IT

A plot grows within the story you’re telling. A story is all the important parts swirling together: world, character, theme, mood, and of course, plot. An artificial plot is something you have to wrestle into place, a structure you have to bend and mutilate and duct tape to get it to work — it is a square peg headbutted into a circle hole, and you’re the poor bastard doing all the headbutting.

9. THE TENSION AND RECOIL OF CHOICE AND CONSEQUENCE

An organic plot grows like this: characters make decisions — sometimes bad decisions, other times decisions whose risks outweigh the rewards, and other times still decisions that are just plain uncertain in their outcome — and then characters must deal with the consequences of those decisions. A character gives up a baby. Or buys a gun. Or enters the dark forest to slay Lady Gaga. Anytime a character makes a choice, the narrative branches. Events unfold because she chose a path. That’s it. That’s plot. Choice and consequence tighten together, ratcheting tension, creating suspense. Choice begets event.

10. PLOT IS PROMISE

Plot offers the promise of Chekov and his gun, of Hitchcock and his bomb under the table. An event here leads to a choice there which spawns another event over there. Foreshadowing isn’t just a literary technique used sparingly: it lurks in the shadow of every plot turn. Plot promises pay-off. A good plot often betrays this promise and does something different than the audience expects. That’s not a bad thing. You don’t owe the audience anything but your best story. But a plot can also make hay by doing exactly what you expect: show them the gun and now they want to see it fire.

11. LET CHARACTERS DO THEY HEAVY LIFTING

Characters will tell you your plot. Even better: let them run and they’ll goddamn give it to you on a platter. Certainly plot can happen from an external locus of control — but you’re not charting the extinction of the dinosaurs or the lifecycle of the slow loris. Plot is like Soylent Green: it’s made of people. Characters say things, do things, and that creates plot. It really can be that simple. Authentic plot comes from internal emotions, not external mechanics.

12. CHART THE SHORTEST POINT BETWEEN BEGINNING AND END

One way to be shut of the nonsensical, untenable plot is to cut through all the knots. If we are to assume that a plot is motivated by the choices and actions of characters — and we must assume that, because who else acts as prime mover? — then we can also assume that characters will take the most direct path through the story as they can. That’s not to say it’ll be the smartest path, but it will be forthright as the character sees it. No character creates for himself a convoluted path. Complex, perhaps. Convoluted? Never. Characters want what they want and that means they will cut as clear a path to that goal as they can. A convoluted, needlessly complex plot is just the storyteller showing off how clever he is. And no audience wants that. Around these parts, we hunt and kill the preening peacocks and wear their tail-feathers as a headdress.

13. ON THE SUBJECT OF “PLOT HOLES”

Plot holes — where logic and good sense and comprehensible sequence fall into a sinking story-pit — happen for a handful of reasons. One, you weren’t paying attention. Two, your plot is too convoluted and its untenable nature cannot sustain itself. Three, you don’t know what the fuck is happening, and maybe also, you’re drunk. Four, the plot is artificial, not organic, and isn’t coming out naturally from what the characters need and want to do. Five, you offended Plot Jesus by not sacrificing a goat. You can’t just fix a plot hole by spackling it over. It’s like a busted pipe in a wall. You need to do some demo. Get in there. Rip out more than what’s broken. Fill in more than what’s missing.

13. IF THE CHARACTERS HAVE TO PLAN, SO DO YOU

Many writers don’t like to outline. Here’s how you know if you should, though: if your characters are required to plan and plot something — a heist, an attack on a moon bunker, a corporate take-over — then you’re a fool if you think these imaginary people have to plan but you don’t. This is doubly true of genre material. A murder mystery for example lives and dies by a compelling, sensible plot. So plan the plot, for Chrissakes. This isn’t improvisational dance. Take some fucking notes, will you?

14. SET UP YOUR TENTPOLES

A big tent is propped up by tentpoles. So too is your plot. Easy way to plan without getting crazy: find those events in your plot that are critical, that must happen for the whole story to come together. “Mary Meets Gordon. Belial Betrays Satan. An Earthquake Swallows Snooki.” Chart these half-dozen events. Know that you must get to them somehow.

15. THE HERKY JERKY PLOT SHUFFLE PIVOT POINT BOOGIE

You’ve seen Freytag’s Triangle. It’s fine. But it doesn’t tell the whole story. This is the Internet. This is the future. We have CGI. We have 3-D. Gaze upon the plot from the top-down. It isn’t a linear stomp up a steep mountain. It’s a zig-zagging quad ride through dunes and jungles, over rivers and across gulleys. You’re a hawk over the quad-rider’s shoulder — watch it jerk left, pull right, jump a log, squash a frog. More obstacles. Greater danger. Faster and faster. Every turn is a pivot point. A point when the narrative shifts, when the audience goes right and the story feints left.

16. PLOT IS THE BEAT THAT SETS THE STORY’S RHYTHM

Plot comprises beats. Each action, a new beat, a new bullet point in the sequence of events. These establish rhythm. Stories are paced according to the emotions and moods they are presently attempting to evoke. Plot is the drummer. Plot keeps the sizzling beat. Like Enrique “Kiki” Garcia, of Miami Sound Machine.

17. EVERY NIGHT NEEDS A SLOW DANCE

I know I said that plot, at its core, is how everything gets worse and worse and worse until it gets better. Overall, that’s true. But you need to pull back from that. Release the tension. Soften the recoil. Not constantly, but periodically. Learn to embrace the false victories, the fun & games, the momentary lapses of danger. If only to mess with the heads of the audience. Which, after all, is your totally awesome job.

18. THE NAME OF MY NEW BAND IS “BEAT SHEET MANIFESTO”

You can move well beyond the tentpoles. You can free-fall from the 30,000 foot view, smash into the earth, and get a macro-level micro-view of all the ants and the pill-bugs and the sprouts from seeds. What I mean is, you can track every single beat — every tiny action — that pops up in your plot. You don’t need to do this before you write, but you can and should do it after. You’ll see where stuff doesn’t make sense. You’ll see where plot holes occur. Also: wow. A Meat Beat Manifesto joke?

19. BEATS BECOME SCENES BECOME SEQUENCES BECOME ACTS

Plot is narrative, and narrative has units of measurement: momentary beats become scenes of a single place, scenes glom together to form whole sequences of action and event, and sequences elbow one another in the giant elevator known as an “act,” where the story manifests a single direction before zig-zagging to another (at which point, another act shifts). Think first in acts. Then sequences. Then scenes. And finally, beats. Again, take that 30,000 foot view, but then jump out of the plane and watch the ground come to meet you.

20. YOUR SEXY MISTRESS, THE SUBPLOT

In real life, don’t cheat on your spouse or lover. Not cool, man. Not cool. As a writer, you don’t cheat on your manuscript, either: while working on one script or novel, don’t go porking another one behind the shed. But inside the narrative? The laws change. You need to cheat on your primary plot. Have dalliances with sub-plots — this is a side-story, or the “B-story.” Lighter impact. Smaller significance. Highlights supporting characters. But the sub-plot always has the DNA of the larger plot and supports or runs parallel to the themes present. Better still is when the sub-plot affects, influences or dovetails with the larger plot.

21. BENEATH SUBPLOT, A NOUGATY LAYER OF MICRO-PLOT

Every little component of your story threatens — in a good way, like how storms threaten to give way to sun, or how a woman threatens to dress up as your favorite Farscape puppet and sex you down to galaxy-town — to spin off into its own plot. Your tale is unwittingly composed of tiny micro-plots: filaments woven together. A character needs to buy a gun but can’t pass the legal check. His dog runs away. He hasn’t paid his power bill. Small inciting incidents. Itty-bitty conflicts. They don’t overwhelm the story, but they exist just the same, enriching the whole. A big plot is in some ways just a lot of little plots lashed together and moving in a singular direction. Like a herd of stampeding marmots.

22. EXPOSITION IS SAND IN THE STORY’S PANTIES

Look at plot construction advice and you’ll see a portion set aside for “exposition.” Consider exposition a dirty word. It is a synonym for “info-dump,” and an info-dump is when you, the storyteller, squat over the audience’s mouth and expel your narrative waste into their open maw. Take the section reserved for exposition and fold it gently into the rest of the work as if you were baking a light and fluffy cake. Let information come out through action. Even better: withhold exposition as long as you can. Tantric storytelling, ladies and germs: deny the audience’s expectation ejaculation until you can do so no longer.

23. ON THE SUBJECT OF THE “PLOT TWIST”

A plot twist is the kid who’s too cool for school — ultimately shallow, without substance, and a total tool. It’s a gimmick. Let your story be magic, not a magic trick. Not to say plot twists can’t work, but they only work when they function as the only way the story could go from the get-go. Again: organic, not artificial.

24. THE ENDING IS THE ANSWER TO A VERY LONG EQUATION

Plot is math, except instead of numbers and variables it’s characters, events, themes, and yes, variables. The ending is one such variable. An ending should feel like it’s the only answer one can get when he adds up all parts of the plot. This actually isn’t true: you can try on any number of endings and you likely have a whole host that can work. But there’s one ending that works for you, and when it works for you, it works for them. And by “them” I don’t mean the men in the flower delivery van who are watching your every move. I mean “them” as in, the audience. P.S., don’t forget to wear your tinfoil hat because the flowers are listening.

25. PLOT IS ONLY MEANS TO AN END

Speaking of ends, plot is just a tool. A means to an end. Think of it as a character- and conflict-delivery-system. Plot is conveyance. It still needs to work, still needs to come together and make sense — but plot is rarely the reason someone cares about a story. They care about characters, about the way it makes them feel, about the thing you-as-storyteller are trying to say. Note, though, that the opposite is true: plot may not make them love a story, but it can damn sure make them hate it.

* * *

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#Plotting #writing #moffiss pay attention

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malarkiness · 8 years

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Saw Rogue One. Spoilers galore.

And I thought it was.... okay.

Well, alright, here’s the stuff that I thought was great:

The CGI characters were amazing. I didn’t pay attention to most of the press surrounding this movie, so I totally missed any news about them animating characters, but I was pretty impressed with the final product. I actually missed 99% of Tarkin’s dialogue because I spent all of his scenes going back and forth with myself over whether or not he was CGI; there was something sort of unnatural about his facial movements, like I don’t think his eyes ever really focused on anything, and something about his expressions seemed too... fluid? I can’t put my finger on it, but even if I could tell it was CGI, it was still well done CGI. Leia looked perfect, though, like they absolutely could’ve fooled me with that one.

Seeing walkers stomping around on a beach was pretty cool, ngl.

“Are you kidding me? I’m blind!” made me laugh.

The score is nice. There were a few tracks that were a bit jarring at times (because they evidently just took music from the original trilogy and changed a note here and there), but the score itself is good.

I liked seeing the Star Wars universe’s equivalent of an archive. That was neat.

The ending. Jyn and Cassian holding each other and waiting for the end, Vader laying waste to all those troops like it’s nothing, Leia’s line about hope– all good choices, A+, very nice.

Since Diego Luna plays Cassian, and Zoe Saldana plays Uhura in the Star Trek reboot, I always see their characters singing whenever I listen to that last song in The Book of Life.

And the not-so-great:

I could almost swear this movie shared a writer with Jupiter Ascending what with how much PLOT PLOT PLOT it tries to spit at you as quickly as possible. There is 0 time allotted to just give the characters (and the audience) time to process the weight of new story developments. It just blazes ahead no matter what. Like there’s this one scene when they get back on the ship and Jyn’s all pissed at Cassian for trying to kill her dad, and he gives this one line that I can’t remember exactly, but it’s essentially, “you only started caring about the rebellion five minutes ago, you don’t know what all I’ve sacrificed to bring us this far, so get off your fucking high horse,” and it’s a GREAT line that should really make Jyn shut up and think for a second, but lol guess what, it doesn’t. She just says he’s dodging the real issue and the argument just... drops. Cool. Cool cool cool. And do we ever find out just what kind of darksided shit Cassian had to do for the greater good? Or anything about why he joined the rebellion in the first place? Nope! There’s no time for any of that because PLOT.

Chirrut’s use of the Force was such an interesting idea, but it wasn’t really explored at all. His first scene has him talking to Jyn about her necklace, showing that he can ~sense it’s there even if he can’t see it, so like... What else could he’ve sensed? Could he’ve maybe been able to find the Death Star plans in the archive so they wouldn’t have had to search for it? Could he’ve sensed where they should go once they’d infiltrated the base? I feel like they could’ve done SO much more with his character rather than just giving him a couple of good fight scenes and killing him off.

The only character who gets any kind of development at all is Jyn, and it’s just... not good. Like she suddenly starts caring about the rebellion just because she found out that her dead father cared about it, and that’s literally it. Rather than, I dunno, having her become attached to the other characters and wanting to help them with their cause, the writers just stake all her investment in the rebellion in her relationship with a character we barely see. Awesome.

Honestly, why was Jyn even in this movie? They could’ve given Cassian her backstory, and that’d explain his devotion to the rebellion: the Empire killed his mother and took his father, and he wants justice. Boom. Done. Or they could’ve had Jyn grow up to be the rebel with a droid sidekick rather than just making her some randomass criminal. Or Cassian could’ve also been the ex-imperial pilot. Seriously, there was just NO NEED for this movie to have all the characters it did. They could’ve easily collapsed a couple of them into each other and developed them as they were; instead, we waste all this time being introduced to one unnecessary character after the other. Like I get that the writers probably wanted a Ragtag Bunch of Missfits to go on this adventure, but if you want that kind of ensemble, you need the characters to have actual chemistry with each other, and these characters just don’t. Beyond Chirrut and Baze’s relationship (which is already established by the time we meet them), none of these people ever form any sense of camaraderie with each other; they’re literally only together because the plot needs them together.

And while I’m harping on about characters, Krennic is one of the most forgettable villains I’ve ever seen in any movie. The only interesting things about him were his cape and that one scene where he got choked (and tbf, Vader could’ve choked anyone in this movie and I’d’ve been equally impressed, so whatever). I’m sure the writers didn’t want to distract from Darth Vader with another villain, but... It’s fucking Darth Vader. No bad guy’s going to undermine him, alright, you can afford to write a more interesting beta villain.

idk, I was just really looking forward to this one after loving TFA so much, but Rogue One just didn’t grip me the way the other movie did. I think most of that is just because TFA introduced us to, what, four new characters? And we got to know all of them pretty well (okay, maybe not Poe so much, but he was still very likable and engaging enough with the little screen time as he got). Like we know all of Finn’s motivations from the get-go, we see him go through a HUGE change within like the first ten minutes of the movie, and then watch him continue grow until his final battle. And we got to know Rey really well, too; they kept her past a mystery, but we still sympathized with her longing to belong somewhere. As for Kylo, his motivations weren’t really... understandable or sympathetic lol, but they’re at least interesting (in the parallel that they set up between him and Anakin if nothing else).

I suppose TFA appealed to me a lot more because it had FAR fewer new characters to introduce and therefore more time to make me care about them. I didn’t care that the story was just a recycled Episode IV; the characters carried it so well that it just felt natural for the storyline to play out the way it did. With RO, the storyline steered everything, and the characters seemed to just exist to carry it out.

I definitely think this story would’ve done better as an EU novel or a miniseries on Netflix, but eh. I didn’t hate it, and I am glad that it’s doing as well as it is box office-wise. And I do like a lot of the fanart/headcanons coming out the fandom rn, so I can at least get into that.

#sometimes i watch things #star wars

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