#Rhyme Assassin

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Zimbabwean-born, London-based emcee Rhyme Assassin is a grizzled vet in the game, starting his career in earnest back in 2000 doing rap battles and performances in his native Zimbabwe before relocating to the UK in 2002. Since then, Rhyme Assassin has appeared on a number of compilations and released a handful of mixtapes, including 2021’s Side Barz. HIs forthcoming, highly-anticipated full-length debut, Dedicated to Self will feature production from the likes of Buckwild, True Master, DJ King Flow and a list others, as well as guest spots from Ras Kass, Masta Ace, dead prez‘s stic.man, Saigon and Keith Murray. Dedicated to Self‘s latest single, “Run Em Up” sees the Zimbabwean-born, London-based emcee trade mosh pit-inducing bars about running up on the competition with M.O.P. and Ruste Juxx over a bruising and menacing Preemo-like beat from The Arcitype. The Arcitype beat inspired Rhyme Assassin to reach out to his collaborators. “I could only hear M.O.P. on the instrumental,” he says, adding that it didn’t matter how many times he listened to it, because he only could hear the Brownsville bullies on the beat. Then, when he needed a third verse to close it out, he reached out to Ruste Juxx, who “complemented M.O.P.’s energy and vibes,” Rhyme Assassin says.

[mrjellybeanz]

Rhyme Assassin Delivers Global Situation With New Single "Rhyme Apostles"

To celebrate and honor Hip Hop’s 50th Anniversary, International & national Hip Hop artist/producer Rhyme Assassin unveils “Rhyme Apostles” the single. Buzzing as a global situation, the record features an intro by Jadakiss and verses by Keith Murray, K Solo, Crooked I, Prodigal Sunn, Canibus, Chino XL, Ruste Juxx, Craig G, AFRO, Antlive, and Reks. Hip Hop heads gear up as this is strictly for…

[ceristhedivine]

Why does this sound like a nursing rhyme??

Either way, this bit was cute!

[rumor-imbris]

I will use sleepy moon rays, crimson leaves, owl lullabies and wolven paw prints to pave my way straight to your dreams Sweet sneaking in your night, like raven cries sleepdancing to your sighs, dreamwalking through your mind And at dawn, you'll only remember a tune tiny wings flaking, light glints through dew slipping tear left of my love hymn to You

[acourtofquestions]

Rhys is just Aelin without the fire & with the wings

[themightyhumanbroom]

Back when I read Borderlands fanfiction, I would often see authors bemoaning how difficult it was to write dialogue for Zer0, which I could understand since Zer0 speaks entirely through haiku.

Now me in the present is truly understanding the frustration as I prepare to write rhymes for these two goons.

Thank God for rhymezone is all I'll say.

[adarkrainbow]

I recently spoke of Pierre Dubois and evoked the confused and convoluted enigma that are his world-famous Encyclopedias - beautifully illustrated, a masterpiece of fae art, a Renaissance of the fair folk, a deep mine and fabulous treasure of folkloric, literary, mythological references... But also a very convoluted, invented, reinvented, unfaithful-yet-faithful work that freely uses the poetic license and the "storyteller license" to recreate a fairy world that sometimes has little to do with actual folkloric material. And that's because, as I said and as too many people seem to forget, Pierre Dubois is a storyteller and a writer before anything.

Today I want to briefly evoke his purely literary work, not his encyclopedias, or his books about ghosts or trolls, or his manual of elficology, or his anthologies of collected fairytales. His purely literary work - but still deeply inspired by folklore and fairytales. More precisely a short story collection of his called "Comptines assassines" (Murderous nursery rhymes):

This book is actually a sequel to a previous short story collection called "Contes de crime" (Crime fairytales ; a pun on "Grimm fairytales" because in French "Grimm" and "crime" sound similar). Both collections are based on the same key concept: take a fairytale, a nursery rhyme, a fairy-legend, and twist it into a dark short story - sometimes a crime, sometimes a horror novel, sometimes simply disturbing reality.

For example, in Comptines assassines, Dubois tackles twice the topic of "Let's follow the crimes and mad mind of a fairytale-inspired serial killer". Once in his "Puss in Boots" short story, where the titular cat becomes a fairytale-obsessed serial killer of the Interwar era deeply involved with the motif of the Great War mutilees ; and another in his "Bluebeard" short story, making the Bluebeard character a current day serial killer mixed with the Halewyn legend (and it is left unclear if he isn't the ACTUAL Halewyn) who picks of prostitutes and places them in the Bluebeard scenario pretending a "bizarre, excentric role-play game" when in fact he just wants them to end up like Bluebeard's victims... And there's also some really weird and bizarre stories, such as his "Croquemitaine" story (the French bogeyman), which is a Sherlock Holmes story about the titular detective ending up on the trace of a child-killer who somehow returned as a monstrous ghost thanks to a medium's ill-organized seance - and Arthur Conan Doyle actually meets Sherlock... Its typical Dubois bizarreness.

The reason I wanted to speak of this collection specifically is because, as a collection of short story, it truly allows to present the best and the worst of Dubois as an author, since some of his short stories are truly brilliant, and others sadly badly done. I say sadly because Dubois always has good and interesting ideas, and he always cleverly plays of tropes and motifs and archetypes... But the executon is very often lacking.

And this precise collection has two story that are perfect opposites. "The old woman who lived in a shoe" and "The Musicians of the town of Bremen".

"The old woman who lived in a shoe" is the longest short story of this collection, so long it is basically a novela. And the basic idea is very efficient: in an old-but-not-too-distant England, various people of the high society with apparently no relationship to each other are brutally murdered. Here's the twist however: they are murdered by nursery rhymes characters, or by "Alice in Wonderland" ones. And the police, soon driven mad by this insane investigation, ends up calling forth a "fairy detective" expert in supernatural cases (who was involved in a previous story in "Contes de crime"). This is a strong and solid basis, and it works for the most part. Take each of the murders - because the investigation is for a first part pushed on the background, onto quick recaps summaries and "what happened" aftermaths, the better to highlight the dead end and mad frustration of the investigators. The murders are all very interestingly set - each victim is fleshed out in one given scene, each one evokes various archetypes, stereotypes or just "types" of the English society and the English literature, and then the encounters with the nursery-folks are all set in a brilliantly disturbing "fantastique" way, always simple and short but very efficient. The whole thing is told with a distinct British humor, sometimes slight, sometimes very heavy, and Dubois shows here his immense love and great passion for everything British (he always keeps in his bibliographies a section for all the English books of literature or folklore he read).

But here's the problem: this thing is... too much. Too long, too flowery, too flowing, too extensive, too bloated. That's one of Dubois' main vices and one of his greatest writing flaws - he doesn't know when to stop. He writes too much, he extends everything, he describes all with so much detail. We can at least forgive him for the series of murders opening the novel because each one, with such an exorbitant and extensive style, manage to present us a full, lively, complex portrait of each character and scenes, that is always brilliantly cut short by the childishly simple and yet completely reality-breaking supernatural of the murders. We can forgive that - but when the "fairytale detective" gets on the case... By Jove it is all too much. If this had been a novel, I think it would have worked much better - there would have been time to breathe, space for the sentences to flow right, but here everything is so crammed it boils and erupts like a volcano. And while the conclusion is interesting in theory, I do think its handling was... between muddled and dubious. Not to give too much spoilers, but Dubois wanted clearly to mix together the motif of "The old woman in the shoe had many children - and these children were nursery rhymes folks" ; the idea of "The fairies are pissed off humanity are destroying their land and take revenge" ; and an exploration of Lewis Carroll's life and how his Alice work haunts England today. But the result is... let's say it is a difficult result and touchy subject, as Dubois tries to explain Carroll's obsession with little girls by the involvment of a fairy in his life, and the whole handling of this is... Well it needs some careful reading and contextual considerations, because I couldn't tell if Dubois was actually making a big blunder by handling badly the topic, or if he actually did something that could work in some very bizarre way. And I will not insist on how Dubois, in his famous habit of mixing everything, insisted on mixing together the Alice books and the nursery rhymes of England as a whole into one and same world, making it so that for someone who hasn't read Carroll they could believe you'd find in Alice books Mother Goose or Old King Cole...

So yes that's the bad - but what about the great? The great is "The musicians of the town of Bremen" and I am really sad this story wasn't translated in English for me to share with you (or maybe it was?). To give you the simple but brilliant effect of this story I will recap it, but to avoid spoilers if you want to read it I'll put it under a cut.

Contrary to what the title says, the story isn't a rewrite of "The musicians of Bremen" but actually a "mix fairytales together" tale, and Dubois shows here his immense love, passion and knowledge of fairytales in one clever and poetic story - in an effort that reminds me of his Elficology Manual.

Say hello to George Boutonnet, a 20th century man with a frankly... Not happy life. Despite being an adult with a job, he stll is under the control of his old and tyrannical mother who, for example, insists on him having regular dinners with her to which he should never be late and always bring the same food. His mother's bad influence had already started as a kid, when she forced him to listen entirely and repeatedly to "L'Enfant et les Sortilèges" (Ravel's The Child and the Spells) - which deeply traumatized him, especially the scene when the child is punished by living furniture and wild animals and can only scream "Mommy!". He spent a childhood stuck between doing all his homework correctly under the stern eye of his mother, and brief moments of carefully looking at her precous books of fairytales - but these fairytales did not allow him any escapism either, because it was the Gustave Doré's illustrations, that scared him (he preferred Félix Lorioux as a child), and all the stories of Perrault, Grimm, madame d'Aulnoy and the countess of Ségur left him even more depressed - while all those virtuous girls and brave boys and couragous knights defeated the ragons and won eternal love, he couldn't escape his harsh and stern life... And so he grew up to become a middle-class office worker, always careful, prudent and meek, tyrannized by his bosses and his mother, living alone without any romantic potential, and having an extremely strict and precise schedule where every daily activity is timed precisely.

Except one day, when his alarm clock doesn't work, he wakes up too late, and this results in him going into a frenzy panic as he tries to stich up his schedule - because today is the day he is supposed to arrive on time to eat with his mother, and bring her cake. In his chaos and panic, after finally getting the cake and crossing with his car the wood that separates his home from his mother's, he needs to stop in the forest to pee. And... this turns out to be a revelation for him, because all his life, he kept crossing in his car the wood without ever actually stepping his foot in it. His mother never took him to the woods, too "wild and dangerous" - she didn't even taught him how to recognize flower species. So when he finds himself there, surrounded by unknown flowers, bizarre insects, and all those forest scents he never felt before, he can't help it, he walks around, he explores, feeling like a kid again. And as he walks around he sees... Little Red Riding Hood. Or rather a girl dressed exactly like her. Amused, he has a talk with him where he reveals he knows everything about her - much to the girl's amazement, and when she asks him how he knows her identity, he claims to be a wizard, which the girl immediately believes. And when he keeps joking (because he believes it is all a joke) about the wolf - this time Little Red is confused as there's no wolves in this forest, and she flees the man thinking he is one of those bizarre and nasty adults that like to mess up with kids' head.

Boutonnet, confused, ends up walking down the path Little Red Riding Hood came from... And discovers a fairytale village. THE fairytale village - with castles and beautiful landscapes and cute little houses and superb towers... Boutonnet thinks it's some amusement park, some local fair - but when he meets Gepetto in his workshop who is sculpting what will become Pinocchio (in fact it is Boutonnet himself who suggests the name Pinocchio), he starts realizing... Maybe something else is up. He tries to evoke Pinocchio's future misfortunes and misadventures, but Gepetto wants to hear nothing of those weird stories - claiming Boutonnet is just like "all those other folks from behind the hill", always coming in whith disastrous warnings when the truth is, nothing bad ever happens here. What truly convinces Boutonnet's however is when Gepetto summons Puss in Boots, who promptly asks the man to become his master, and when the latter agrees the cat literaly changes by magic his 20th century clothes into a fairytale-prince outfit.

Thus convinced he is truly in the world of fairytales, Boutonnet becomes the subject of a tour with Puss in Boots as a guide, to find himself a wife among the numerous princesses, queens and fairies of the area - and he gets to enjoy a wonderful, colorful world of talking flowers and singing frogs directly out of Lorioux's drawings, seeing the Goat with her seven kids, and Polichinelle, and the baron of Münchhausen, and fairies, and Hans my Hedgehog, and Riquet with the Tuft, and the seven dwarfs, and Tom Thumb... This is where Dubois' narrative style works the best, as his over-flowering, extensive listing and complex scene descriptions fit perfectly this "wonderful panorama of fairytales" we are supposed to see - and it is an abundance of fairytales and nursery rhymes references, and tons of puns based on popular culture, and fascinating description of fairy castles, and an abundance of baked goods, candies and cakes that Boutonnet gets to stuff himself with... And Boutonnet is in Heaven because it is everything his life is not - magic everywhere, everybody looking at him with respect and kindness, as much sugary treats as he can eat, cool clothes. An especially important part is that his name (which can translate as "Small-Button" and was a source of mockery when he was a child) is here fully accepted as a typical fairytale name.

Boutonnet is also very impressed by the beauty of the fairytale princesses - notably, after one breathtaking sight of Cinderella, he gets to encounter Snow White herself, described in such passionate, positive, romantic terms you feel like you have the perfect fairytale and mythical princess in front of you. Snow White is indeed the "fiancee" Puss in Boots wants to have Boutonnet fall in love with - and it works as they go for a promenade into the fairy woods and the wonderful village, and Snow White's kindness and beauty and gentleness and purity touches Boutonnet right into his heart... Even better (or worse depending on how you see it) - Boutonnet realizes that this fairytale village is stuck into the perfect moment, into the apex of happiness. Snow-White doesn't know what Boutonnet is talking about when he talks of her wicked step-mother, Little Red Riding Hood is going into the woods with no idea of what a wood is, when Puss in Boots is asked about cemeteries he is horrified as nobody dies in this valley... He is happy at finding a world of ultimate happiness and perfection, but he is slightly worried about how things might unfold if the stories haven't truly happened yet...

Snow White invites Boutonnet to the village's grand feast at the castle - where music will be given by the titular Bremen musicians, and after this invitation (and before Puss in Boots prepares for him a new outfit), Boutonnet has a brief moment of lucidity in the euphoria. He realizes that it is all mad, that such a place cannot exist, that if he returns to the real-world his mother will be mad at him and he'll be taken for a crazy person - but this is also mixed with a deep sorrow within himself, as he is told nobody ages, nobody dies, everything is happy in the fairytale valley... The sorrow that, as it turns out there was a place where wishes came true and dream became reality, there was a wonderful place of chilhood love and eternal youth, but he got denied this place, people tricked him into believing it wasn't real and forced him into living a horrid life...

As dusk starts forming at the horizon, Boutonnet considers leaving the valley and returning to his car and fleeing the forest - but the forest now smells quite unpleasant, of damp humidity, and rotting wood, and all sort of other unpleasant smells of "reality", and he ultimately get smooth-talked again by Puss in Boots into joining the grand festivities of the night. And what grand festivities! A huge banquet with mouth-watering dishes one after another ; and a whole array of old, aristocratic dances for the ball ; and music, so much music ; and Boutonnet sits right next to Snow White and gets to enjoy a soft, discreet, blooming romance between the meal and the dances, surrounding by fantastical beauties and fabulous riches...

... But as the night advances, the guests starts looking a bit less happy, a bit more shameful, things get more quiet. Boutonnet looks around and upon seeing so much beauty can't help but ask: Where are the others? The villains, the wicked ones, with their iron teeth and blue beards and hooked noses and warts and crooked chins... He notices there is some horrible sounds seemingly coming from the palace's door - but Snow White pretends it is "Just the wind" as the Bremen musicians try to cover it up with their music... And yet it is not wind, Boutonnet hears it growing louder and louder. It is scratches, screeches, screams and howls, the sounds of beasts and madmen. Boutonnet asks for explanations, and Snow White ends up sadly telling him the truth (and Boutonnet for the first time feels her hands are as cold as snow):

Once upon a time, a long time ago, fairytales were as Boutonnet heard of them. Snow White feared that every item was poisoned, Little Red Riding Hood didn't care cross the woods because of the wolf, princesses and sheperdess kept being killed by dragons, while brave heroes a la Jack and the Little Tailor kept killing giants, trolls and other gargoyles - and overall it was a constant battle of mutilated limbs, beheaded corpses, spells thrown left and right and constant pyres to burn people. It became so bad that the two side, the heroes and the antagonists, the goods and the villains, gathered one day to sign a peace treaty because they were so exhausted of living a "life of fairytale"... And the pact was such: the good folks and the heroes could live in the valley by day peacefully, while the villains and monsters ruled over it by night. This is why today Hansel and Gretel can eat gingerbread houses without fear, and why the three little pigs build their home in whatever material they like, and why Little Red Riding Hood visits her grandma every day...

But outside? What Boutonnet is hearing at the door of the castle? Its the wild hunt of the villains: Snow White's wicked stepmother is there, and so is the Big Bad Wolf, and Baba Yaga, and the Bogeyman, and the Ogre and the Ogress, and Frau Trude, and all the others: the dragons, the witches, the wicked dwarves, the ghouls, the trolls, the cyclops, Père Fouettar and so many monsters...

Boutonnet, puzzled wonders: But... If they are all outside, unable to attack or touch the good folks and the heroes... How do they survive? What do they eat? What do they kill, harass, maim and scare? Do they turn onto each other?

And Snow-White, sorrowfully but still so charming and beautiful, confesses to him: Alas, my beloved... They feed of strangers.

And the fairytale "good folk", to preserve their peace, throw Boutonnet outside of the castle, into the claws of the monsters and witches and ogres, and he only has time to scream one thing - the same word the little child screamed in "The Child and the Spells" - Mommy!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Jailbreak

for Angstpril, Day 13: Recovery

cw: adult language, death mention, implied suicide attempt (mentioned)

two weeks prior ///// masterlist ///// next

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

"Just calm down and we'll talk—"

"I will burn this building to the fucking ground."

Lex had woken up in a panic. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, and his arms were gone. Again. He was in a strange place, with the door closed, locked, again. For a moment, it didn't matter where he was, only that he was trapped.

Then the door opened, and it was Spyglass on the other side. That gave him enough pause to realize he was in a bed, a real bed, and the now-familiar weight of his collar was absent.

But that meant nothing.

She'd locked him up. Taken his arms. Taken his choice, he remembered, recalling how it felt to step off the railing, to crash into the water.

Terrifying. Freeing.

He'd thought it was over, but now he was awake again, and sure, Spyglass always seemed to want to talk his ear off about helping him, and teaming up against Uriah, but if she thought she could keep him captive to make that happen, she had another thing coming.

"You wanna burn this place down?" Spyglass snapped. "Then what's stopping you?"

(Dropping, mopping, sopping.) Nothing. Even as he thought it, he knew the fire wouldn't come, but he couldn't say why. He had no loyalty to the rogues. He'd already risked enough just for the pleasure of leaving them alone.

Spyglass watched him for a moment, as if waiting to see if he'd accept her challenge. When he didn't even move, she let out a heavy sigh. 

"Your collar's gone," she said, and it sounded like she was making an effort to sound calm. "It started malfunctioning when you hit the river, but we got it off."

(Scoff. Cough.) Lex rolled his neck, felt the bandages there, the sore flesh beneath. She was wrong about that one. It wasn't a malfunction, someone had activated his collar as soon as his foot left the ledge. He'd blacked out before he even hit the water.

"Keystone's jailbreaking your arms so Fox can't track you," Spyglass continued. "Soon as he's done, you're free to go."

"Free to go, huh?" He scooted backwards on the bed, until he was leaning against the headboard. "No conditions?"

He was sure she was about to start spouting more bullshit about joining the rogue team and 'making up for his crimes', as if he hadn't paid for them in blood already.

But she shook her head. "No conditions. Just a question." She met his eyes. "What are you gonna do, when you aren't a puppet anymore?"

"I…" What was he supposed to say to that? It seemed like a new tactic. A way to get him angry. Make him swear revenge.

"Don't tell me you'll go crawling back to Uriah anyway."

"No." Never. Uriah probably thought he was dead, and if he had a choice, it'd stay that way.

"That's a start. I'm not trying to make you my friend. But I don't wanna be enemies either." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Just… I don't know. Think about what it is you want."

And then she left, closing the door behind her. He didn't hear it lock.

What I want. What did he want? All he'd wanted for the past year and a half was to get away. From the Tower, from the people who wanted to control him, from Uriah. If everything Spyglass said was true, if he was free, what came next?

He could go back to the Underneath (wreath). Find Chopper. Take new contracts and get back into killing (blood-spilling). He imagined everyone he'd known in Neath thought he was dead too, by now. That's what the headlines had spouted (undoubted), and Lex had never been given a chance to tell them otherwise. (Demise, surprise, surmise, unwise, disguise---)

A knock on the door pulled his attention away from the topic. Another new oddity. When was the last time someone had bothered to knock at all?

The sentiment faded somewhat when the door swung open without waiting for a response.

It was pajama girl. Firebrand. She had two styrofoam cups in her hands, and a vaguely apprehensive look on her face.

"Smoothie?"

It was the last thing he'd expected to hear from the kid who'd launched fireballs at him a few months ago. "What?"

She shrugged. "Me and Celeste just came back from Banana Bash. Figured you might be hungry. You've been asleep for-ever."

Lex eyed the cup. The logo seemed legitimate, but that didn't mean anything. They could have easily mixed in some kind of drug. Maybe 'rescuing' him was a ploy. Maybe they wanted to knock him out and hand him over to Uriah as a peace offering. It'd be the easiest solution to their problems, for sure.

Firebrand rolled her eyes when he didn't answer. "Relax, I'm not trying to poison you." She set one of the cups on the nightstand. "Besides, if we wanted you dead, we would've killed you by now."

Lex almost snorted at the casual way she said it. "Hear that one on TV?"

She scowled. "Maybe I did."

"Think you could?"

"Think I could what?"

"Kill me." How many successful missions had he run by the time he was her age? Young as she was, she'd still had a contract with Titanium.

Firebrand shrugged again. "Maybe not. Bet I could beat you in a fight though."

Lex was struck by a strange urge to laugh. Risked his fucking freedom to save the kid and her team, and now she just wanted to one-up him.

"You think so?" He glanced sideways at the styrofoam cup. He was kinda hungry… "You know I'm fireproof, right?"

"So am I."

"What gives you an edge?"

Firebrand smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know." She took a long drink from her smoothie. "So your name is Cinder, huh?"

"Yes." Lex was unsure where she was going with this. The sudden casual conversation had thrown him off guard. Maybe that's what the group wanted. Maybe they were trying to unbalance him—

"When I first picked my name, I almost picked 'Cinderella'," the kid continued. "So I thought it was funny. Obviously I went with something cooler, but it's funny, right?"

"Sure." Cinderella. She'd better not—

"Maybe you should change yours. It'd be easy. Just add a few letters."

Motherfucker. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"Told you already. I was bringing you a smoothie."

"Why are you still here?"

The shrugging was almost irritating at this point. "Only ever saw you when you broke in that one time. Just wanted to say hi, I guess."

He sighed, leaning back on the headboard. "I attacked your friend, and you 'just wanted to say hi'?" Maybe the smoothie was drugged after all. Maybe she was trying to lull him into a sense of ease, or confuse him, or distract him.

"Don't get me wrong, I was ready to kick your ass back then." She paused, looking down at the cup in her hands. "But when… after y'know, after the other guy left… you just looked kinda sad."

So that's what it all came down to. Another person who felt sorry for him. Seemed that was all Lex could be anymore. A tool to be used, or an object to be pitied. He was sick of it.

"Here's a tip, kid. You can't just feel sorry for every criminal you see who looks sad. You'll lose a lot of fights that way."

"Yeah, whatever. And I didn't say I felt sorry for you." She leaned against the doorframe. "I guess I kinda do, but not because of Uriah Fox or anything." Her hand closed around the doorknob, and she pushed it open, half-stepping into the hall outside.

"It's because you're alone."

וווווווווווווווווווווו×

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing

[venti-death-watch]

callout post for the maker of deep-sea encore but like in the context that that one animatic they made introduced me to no more birthdays by sophie may and now i can’t stop thinking about the second verse with freminet in mind and getting emotional about it

[the-red-mafia]

The Assassination

Mad receives a call from Rhyme early in the morning with an odd request: help him break into Mrs. Gracy's house and rescue a boy she recently took in. After arriving at the house, it turns out things aren't exactly as they seem. Also available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheRedMafia Next Update: [Updated] Word Count: 2445

1 month after “The Catalyst”

Velvet nearly impaled Mad’s TV with a knife when they entered the kitchen. The robot quickly dodged and flicked on the light.

“Just me!” they whispered. Velvet stared at it before sighing. 

“Damn it, Mad. What are you doing awake?”

“I could say the same for you.” The teen took a big drink of the energy drink sitting in front of them. Mad crossed their arms as she tossed it in the recycling bin. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Go figures,” the droid mumbled, “Well, I’m going to help Rhyme with something.” Velvet frowned.

“At 5:30 in the morning?” Mad shrugged. 

“Said it was something to do with Eliza. Figured I might as well.” 

“How long are you gonna be gone?” 

“No idea. Why? Is something happening?” 

“Mission this evening. Was gonna tell everyone when they woke up.” Mad’s screen went blank.

“What’s the mission?” 

“Information retrieval. We’re breaking into a UPS building.”

“Of course,” Mad began, “I’ll be back before then. When are we leaving?” 

“After dark.”

“Yeah, everything will be fine.” Velvet narrowed their eyes at them before sighing.

“Okay, have fun or whatever.” A smile appeared on Mad’s screen. 

“Alright, see you later.”

“Bye-”

“And no more energy drinks! Go to bed!” Velvet rolled their eyes but waved goodbye to the robot. 

Looking back, Mad wished it had stayed.

The guilt began to form in Rhyme’s stomach as soon as he saw Mad walking out of the Umbrella, a smile on their TV. It waved at him, and he waved back. Daylight was just breaking around them, yellows and oranges piercing the black sky. 

Just follow the plan, Rhyme thought to herself, They won’t even know. 

“Hey Rhyme!” Mad called out. Rhyme waved again. Mad must’ve picked up on Rhyme’s nervous demeanour because the next words out of their speakers were “Are you okay?”. Rhyme took a deep breath.

The plan, Rhyme. 

“Not really,” the smile immediately disappeared, “I found out something disturbing this morning.” Mad stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“What?”

“Eliza’s adopted another kid. A little boy named Wyatt.”

“...Oh.” 

“Yeah. Will you help me get him out of there?” 

“Of course. What’s the plan?” Rhyme smiled.

“Thanks Mad. I knew I could count on you.”

Now onto phase 2. 

“My plan is to break into the house through the attic. Do you need anything from the Umbrella?”

“I don’t think so. How long is it going to take?” 

“Hopefully not long. Shall we go? I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Rhyme carefully opened the small hatch in between the roof tiles. The ship sat a couple dozen metres away in a small parking lot behind the estate. Mad watched as the teen slid down into the hole, their laser gun strapped to their back. She held herself up for a few seconds before landing silently on the tiled floor. He looked up at Mad and smirked.

“You coming?” he whispered. 

“I am not that graceful.”

“You’ll be fine. No one can hear up here anyway. I was just doing that to look cool.” Mad chuckled and landed next to her.

“Well, you succeeded. Where now?” The room was an ugly shade of white, with several dolls dressed as angels lining the walls. Rhyme looked at each of them with disgust before gesturing to a door on the other side. 

“There. If we’re lucky, he’s in my old room. Or one of the dozens of other kids' bedrooms Eliza has.” 

“Why’s she so obsessed with kids?” Rhyme stifled a laugh.

“Don’t say it like that, you make her sound like a pedophile.” Mad shrugged.

“Hey, I don’t know.” Rhyme bit their lip to keep from laughing. 

“No, she’s just obsessed with the ‘perfect religious family’. Living in the eyes of God or whatever.” Rhyme walked over to the door and held it open for Mad.

“After you.” The duo made their way down the hallway. As they walked, Mad could hear the muffled sobs of a child. They grew louder, eventually culminating in front of a white door. A sign hung on the door, reading “Wyatt” in fancy cursive letters. Rhyme scoffed. 

“She did put him in my room,” he muttered, “Huh. She’s always kept it empty since I ran away.” Mad turned to her. 

“It’s almost like it’s a-”

“Trap,” Rhyme finished. She turned to it.

“Are you still-”

“Yes. How old is he?”

“Five.” Mad was quiet before twisting the doorknob. It was pure white with light baby blue curtains covering a small window. A little boy sat on the bed, knees pulled to his chest. He had bright green eyes and platinum blonde hair that was cut short. He quickly turned away from the door and scooted towards the wall, pulling on the sleeves of his white polo. He was shaking.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gracy!” He shouted, “I didn’t mean to get the shirt dirty, I won’t do it again!” Rhyme frowned.

“I see she’s no better parent now,” he mumbled. Mad stepped forward, allowing a smile to take over its screen. 

“My name’s Mad. I’m not going to hurt you.” The boy’s shaking slowed and he glanced behind him. 

“M-Mad?” The droid sat down on the bed next to him.

“Yep. I’m here with my friend Diamonds-”

“Rhyme,” Rhyme corrected. Mad looked at him.

“Right, Rhyme. We’re here to get you out of here.” Wyatt looked up at them.

“What?” 

“Mrs. Gracy hasn’t been very nice to you, has she?” Rhyme asked, crossing her arms. Wyatt paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“But- she saved me from the orphanage, so I need to-”

“It’s not your fault,” Mad interrupted, “She’s…hm. She’s not a good person. I know a place where you will be happy and the people will be nice to you. Do you want to go?” Wyatt looked away as Mad held a hand out to him.

“M-Mrs. Gracy would be mad-”

“You won’t have to see her again,” Rhyme added, “She’ll be out of your life for good.” Wyatt turned to the thief. 

“...she won’t hit me anymore?” Mad felt anger grow inside their soul. 

“No. You’ll be safe.” The boy once again looked up at Mad and their outstretched hand. After a few more seconds of hesitation, he took it. Mad scooped him up and stood.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Mad asked.

“J-just my arm. There’s purple skin.” He pointed at his right shoulder. Rhyme raised an eyebrow. 

“Purple-skin?”

“Bruise, I’m assuming,” Mad replied, “Can I take a look?” Wyatt nodded. Mad rolled the sleeve up. A large bruise was forming, dark and purple. Mad’s screen turned off, startling the 5-year-old.

“You okay, Mad?” Rhyme asked, placing a hand on its shoulder.

“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” They rolled the sleeve back down. Rhyme nodded and turned around, letting Mad and Wyatt go in front of him. As soon as they stepped out of the door a loud alarm began to sound. Rhyme and Wyatt jumped slightly and the thief quickly pulled out her gun. Wyatt stared at the weapon for several seconds before burying his face against Mad’s shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” it asked. 

“They must have some kind of tracker on him. We’re gonna have company.” Mad slid their laser gun into their other hand and held it up. Shouting echoed from the stairwell a metre or so in front of them. A head popped up and Rhyme quickly shot a bullet into his shoulder. The man tumbled down the stairs, seemingly taking a few other guards with him. Rhyme grabbed Mad’s wrist and sprinted in the opposite direction.

“We’ll take the back stairs!” He began as a bullet flew by his head, “There’s an exit down there.” She pulled them down the stairs and towards a glass door at the end of a hallway. Three guards turned around a corner and stood in front of it, weapons raised at the trio. Mad fired a few shots at them before scanning the area. 

There was one large door about halfway down the hallway that was pure white with gold trim around the edges. Paintings hung on either side, some depicting forests with bright white trees and some of a man with a crown of thorns on his head. One of Rhyme’s bullets collided with a guard’s knee and Mad grabbed him. 

“I have a plan, follow me!” Mad pulled her and kicked open the door in the hallway.

“Mad, wait-” The robot pushed her in and quickly slammed the door behind them. They expected banging, maybe even shots through the door, but there was only silence. Rhyme was panting next to them and Wyatt choked back a sob.

“What are you doing?”

Rhyme swung around and fired a shot that embedded itself in the wall just a few centimetres away from Eliza’s head. She sat at her desk with a disgusted look on her face. 

“Eliza…” Rhyme muttered. Mad turned around as well, their screen powered off. The woman sighed and stood.

“Thank you, Rhyme, for bringing me my son-”

“He’s not your son,” Mad interrupted. Eliza glared at it. 

“Legally-”

“Legally doesn’t mean shit,” Rhyme spat. 

“Legally, you’re my child too, Rhyme.” 

“Exactly. Doesn’t mean shit.” Eliza sighed and stood from her desk. 

“Listen, robot…what was your name again?”

“Don’t-” Rhyme started, but Mad told her. A fake, vicious smile took over her face. 

“Mad. I have some information that could be quite useful-” Rhyme fired a shot next to Eliza’s head and she stepped to the side. 

“Ignore her, Mad. She’s talking crazy.” A loud thud came from the door and Mad quickly moved to stand in front of it. The guards shouted from the other side but the robot pressed its body against the wood. Eliza shook her head before reaching into a drawer on her desk. She quickly raised her own gun at Rhyme.

“Rhyme, dear. You know your robot won’t be able to hold that door for long. Why don’t you tell it to bring my child to me and no one gets hurt?” 

“That’s not happening,” Mad interrupted. Eliza rolled her eyes.

“Would you be quiet, robot?” Rhyme’s next shot hit her square in her left shoulder, sending her to the ground. She let out a scream and the thuds on the door grew louder. 

“Don’t talk to Mad like that,” he ordered. Eliza pressed a hand against her wound and sat up. Rhyme kicked her back to the ground. The woman held the gun in her right hand and fired a shot that hit Rhyme in the knee. The teen backed up a metre or so.

“Rhyme!” Mad called out. She looked back at them and shook her head.

“I’m fine, keep holding the-” Another shot hit Rhyme in his lower abdomen. Eliza laughed maniacally as she stood and kicked the thief’s weapon away. She placed a high heel on Rhyme’s gunshot wound, digging the end into it. Rhyme winced in pain.

“Get off her, Eliza!” Mad called out. She looked at it.

“What are you going to do about it, robot? Shoot me with your children’s laser?” Mad did exactly that, raising their laser gun and firing it straight into her chest. It sent her flying into a bookshelf, knocking dozens of various novels to the ground. Rhyme jumped to his feet and glared down at Eliza.

“Now kill her.” Mad froze.

“...What?”

“Kill her. She fucking deserves it.” Rhyme looked back at it. He had a wicked grin on his face and a determined look in his eyes. 

“...I can’t.” Eliza struggled to get back to her feet across the room. The door behind Mad fell forward, the shouting even louder now. Mad jumped out of the way as dozens of Eliza’s guards streamed through the doorframe. They focused their aim on the guards, sending them flying around the room. Rhyme stood next to Eliza, scanning the room for her own gun and keeping the woman on the floor. 

After Mad’s laser had hit nearly two dozen of Eliza’s men, Rhyme laughed. It wasn’t her normal laugh, the one that sent warm feelings up and down Mad’s soul. This one was dark and cold.

“Bye bitch,” Mad heard Rhyme mutter. The robot turned around just in time to see the teenage thief blow a hole in Eliza’s skull. 

Rhyme only stared at Eliza for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. A wave of relief washed over her as the blood spilled onto the white carpet. He eventually snapped back to reality and spun around, landing bullets in most of the guards around. Mad stood frozen on the other side, staring at Eliza’s corpse. Rhyme shook away the guilt forming in her stomach and sprinted over. A few tears were dripping from Wyatt’s eyes when he gripped the robot’s wrist.

“Mad, we’ve got to go.” A few shots whizzed by and Rhyme quickly took out their source. Mad slid their laser gun onto its back and held onto Wyatt tightly. 

“It’s okay, Wyatt, it’s okay.” Rhyme frowned.

Why isn’t he happy? Eliza’s dead. The thief pulled his friends through the door and down the hall towards the formerly blocked exit door. She kicked it open as footsteps echoed behind them. They ran until they reached Rhyme’s ship again, the door opening as she approached. 

“We’ll be safe once we get on the ship,” Rhyme told Mad, but the robot didn’t reply. Once the door was safely locked and they were off the ground, Wyatt began to sob. Mad pressed the small child against them and slowly rubbed circles on his back. Rhyme looked away and winced as the pain spiked in his stomach. 

It only took a few minutes for Wyatt to slip into sleep, leaving Mad and Rhyme alone on the ship. Mad layed him down on the captain’s chair and joined her at the console. They were quiet for a moment.

“...Are you okay?” it mumbled. Rhyme shrugged.

“Yeah.” 

“Where are you going?” He gestured to the GPS.

“Back to my place to get you back to the Umbrella.”

“And what about Wyatt?” The teen blinked a few times.

“I…didn’t get that far in my plan.” Mad sighed and looked back at the five-year-old. 

“Let’s all go to the mansion, then.” Rhyme frowned.

“Don’t you want the Umbrella back?”

“We can get it later,” Mad replied, crossing their arms. Rhyme frowned.

“Are you…mad at me?” She asked. The droid looked into the star-ridden sky and sighed. 

“I just need some time to myself, Rhyme.” The thief stared at them for several seconds before sighing as well. 

“Alright, Mahogany Mansion it is.”

[brodasweb]

Rhyme Assassin del Reino Unido une a las leyendas del hip-hop en el nuevo sencillo "Rhyme Apostles"

“Inicialmente, la idea era tener cuatro maestros de ceremonias en la pista. Sin embargo, este concepto se me ocurrió inspirado en la historia de Jesús de la Biblia, cómo se rodeó de doce apóstoles. Tenían la misión de reclutar a algunos de los mejores del juego. letristas legendarios como los Apóstoles de la Rima. Basado en el Reino Unido, nacido y criado en Zimbabue Asesino de escarcha detalla…

[k-she-rambles]

okay but like! the Siberia Incident also reframes why Shen Tai reacts the way he does when that guy approaches the assassin's corpse.

It's already in character that Shen Tai's an honorable man who respects women and respects the dead. At this point we don't need to know anything more about Shen Tai to go "sounds legit" when he goes touch her and I'll kill you.

It's maybe a little intense. But Tai is definitely being the Good Guy here by any metric.

And then we find out two chapters later that Tai was probably very carefully not losing his shit.

Only the reader couldn't know, because Tai does all his thinking deliberately, and Tai had a laundry list of more important things on his mind (basic human decency, nearly dying, ghosts, his best friend getting murdered, the message he was murdered before he could give, basic human decency again, the horses...) than his subconscious going BIG NOPE and trotting out flashbacks of Siberia

And Tai still had the presence of mind to find a way to get the guy to back off while keeping his honor.

[mrjellybeanz]

UK Hip Hop Sensation Rhyme Assassin Prepares For "Rhyme Apostles" Release (Interview)

UK Hip Hop artist Rhyme Assassin prepares fans and audiences for a major single release on April 3rd, 2023. “Rhyme Apostles” features a diverse group of Hip Hop legacies including Crooked I, Craig G, Reks, Ruste Juxx, K Solo, Chino XL, Keith Murray, Chino XL, Canibus, AFRO, and Antlive Boombap. Production is provided by Deep Voice with an intro by Jadakiss. Rhyme Assassin shows off his knack for…

[vigilskeep]

things to love about lucanis dellamorte (on top of how enthusiastic he is about killing slavers), courtesy of tevinter nights

i find it personally endearing that a tevinter altus who complains about his fellow venatori “quivering over antivan propaganda” about the approaching crows immediately breaks a wine glass when he hears it’s lucanis dellamorte coming

lucanis finds the monotonous motions of sharpening his weapons soothing before a job. he has a favourite sword and on top of that carries no less than seven daggers

he groans overhearing his cousin illario’s terrible pickup lines. he also later, while completely alone, snorts literally just imagining stupid excuses illario might make

his abusive grandmother taught him an absurdly evil murder nursery rhyme and he still recites it in his head while assassinating guards because, and i quote: “it’s catchy”

“if someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—i’m not going to complain.”

he writes dossiers on targets for his cousin to read, which his cousin ignores to instead ask him questions right before the job while he’s trying to focus, to which lucanis responds with helpful advice about the target like “he’s weird”

at the first gala he attended in minrathous, lucanis opened the wrong door and walked into an orgy: “getting out of that had been interesting.”

while illario has the silver tongue, lucanis is more agile and better in combat. when they sneak down stairs in the dark, lucanis goes ahead to show him where to put his feet

lucanis remembers people’s names—contacts, allies, people illario seduced for the job. illario, despite being the people person of the two, doesn’t and doesn’t care

repeatedly responds to the questions of the evil slaveowner he’s here to murder with “sì”, correctly “knowing even a single syllable of a foreign language would disgust [him]”. the guy snapping at him over it “earned a genuine smile”

goes into a bar covered in blood, walks right past the angry bartender who tells him to leave, finds his cousin and literally just says “get that man to stop yelling at me”

[rumor-imbris]

Your incandescent spirit, a bright vermillion flame My soul, a snowfield, frozen blue pane Eyes ablaze sparking in my crystal ice veins I'll embrace you I'll sweetly pull you into a glacial and scorching eclipse and you'll feel brume all around, a mist a sweet lullaby dissolving to a hiss

[starleska]

i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic. 

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰