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pinkanonwrites · 2 years ago

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(part 2. now featuring me rambling about a Modern Triguns hc i have)

okay so im Native American and i do think, in my hc (not yours. wanna reiterate that i am saying this for Fun Conversation and not to convince you of shit), i really like the idea of Vash and Knives being either surrounded by Indigenous American influence (people who are non-Indigenous can live on our reservations, maybe Rem is Indigenous and is cross-racially fostering them, i dunno) or Vash and Knives are white-passing Indigenous Americans themselves (i say "white-passing" bc i know their creator is Japanese but also Vash and Knives are pale-skinned, blue-eyed, blond boys so im assuming they are white? but some Japanese people could be mixed, that's true. i dont know enough about Trigun to know ethnicity canon/fanon, i just know "ah!!! they might be blond and blue-eyed, but i see Me in them!" so. headcanon. anyway)

and i say that bc a huge part of a pan-Indigenous culture (not that we are a monolith to generalize, theres so many fucking tribes and specific tribal cultures, but you get what i mean) is focused on the enviroment and our interconnectedness to it, ontop of our history of being genocided against up until the last Indian Residential School closed down in 2007 and we had our right to practice our culture given to us in 1978 (so 1978 is actually when American achieved religious-freedom) and now we are facing various Indigenous protective laws being disbanded in the U.S.-- it's easy for any marginalized group, esp ethnicities, to see relatability in the Plants. like, the Americas were founded with the blood of Black and Indigenous people. but also many other cultures have faced similar experiences. so i do think its easy to project any marginalized culture that has suffered onto Plants. its just also cool to be like "yo, my culture is very much based on protecting and understanding the enviroment, and this fictional group is called PLANTS? hell yeah, easy projection" but like. we arent the only culture that does that. so i dont think Indigenous Americans are special any form of projecting ourselves with Plants/Trigun. i just also AM Indigenous American and also AM projecting. so. im biased

and i am, in fact, doubly biased bc my Indigenous American father was a BIG fan of westerns, something Knives loves. my dad loved them bc He Is Very Old (im talking "my dad was 60, close to 70 when i was born" old. my mother is his second wife and they met when she was 40. so i was "wow thats late to have a baby, but not SUPER dangerous") and, though things have gotten slightly better since he was my age but uh.. the reason why he liked old westerns so much was because that WAS the only place where he could see people like him on-screen. even tho they died half the time. and were often racist. highly recommend the documentary "Reel Injun" if you would like a summary on how Indigenous people have been depicted on film, it is very funny for a documentary lmao but anyway, yes, this does also mean my dad was a Twilight fan. he watches those movies all the time (even tho they are ALSO racist against us, but its still really funny to say my dad is a Twi-hard lmao). and my dad wasnt alone in being like that, a LOT of Indigenous people my age (mid-20s) grew up with old western movies and whatnot bc it was the only representation we had for a long time, even moreso for any generation older than us. i can still hear "John Wayne's Teeth Hey-a, Hey-Hey-a" a'la the 90s movie, Smoke Signals, being chanted in my mind lmao

so Knives' lil "bang, bang" and how much he loved old west content made me feel especially seen lmao so i like the idea of him and Vash either being raised in an Indigenous culture by Indigenous people or being Indigenous themselves and being raised by Indigenous people. it brings me joy ♡ especially the latter, bc, tho im not blond and blue-eyed, i am white-passing. people assume i am white until i "out" myself (im also queer, i label myself as Two-Spirited actually, so i am using the verbage "out" knowingly lmao). i grew up hating my pale skin and my monolingual tongue, because that meant i looked like a colonizer and spoke the colonizer's langauge (and i, unfortunately, dont have the kind of brain that absorbs second languages well. at all. damn you auditory processing disorder lmao rip). i wanted to look more like my Indigenous relatives, and less like my white mother who married into our culture. and i see Knives' hatred of Plants' oppressors, and with the modern au and my hc of Indigentity and my personal history of struggling with self-hatred, and i see reflections of myself in him

and like. Knives' desire to kill all humans isnt translatable in a contemporary context, really. i dunno what job i would want my hc of him to have. you could argue he would be on the side of the extremeists in protesting, But Equating A Genocidal Character To A Contemporary Protestor feels.. bad lmao thats an understatement. but like. yeah, i do hc my personal modern au Knives to be a Land Back protestor, and i think Vash would agree actually. but im biased bc i support that movement too lmao i think the fact that Knives is so untranslatable to a modern context in all his variety adds to the tragedy of the Trigun/Trimax/Trigun Stampede/what-have-you narrative. i think modern au Knives might be antagonistic and a nag (or i could empathize with seeing him as modern cult-leader, tho thats irrelevant to this conversation. just bc i can empathize with it, doesnt mean i would ever create content of it or have it as my hc. cults are serious stuff people shouldnt trivialize and i dont have any experience with them, but if people want to vent out their feelings about cults using a modern Knives au?? i can understand that, im using him to project and vent too afterall lmao) to his brother, maybe be estranged, but overall i think the rift between them would be easier to breach than in the canon

i just find modern au Knives to, at least have the capacity to be, more sympathetic than his canon counterparts in all their variancies. he's fun to stretch around and play with lol

anyway, thanks for making a space where i felt welcomed to talk about Trigun modern hcs with you. i cant wait to see what you make. and, again, this was NOT an endorsement for you to follow me at all in this hc, i completely get (1) people have their own hcs of what Knives and Vash's ethnicities may be in a contemporary world and (2) that other people's modern au stories might not even feature disclosing an ethnicity. i just loved your excitement and wanted to spend part 1 engaging with you with your possible hcs, and part 2 sharing mine. i hope i worded all of this in a way that makes sense. thank you again ♡

Ooh, I really love your hcs! I'm always a little hesitant to do any in-depth headcanoning about the intricacies of racial minorities because I'm a very white person myself (a quarter Korean technically, but a blue-eyed blondie nonetheless), so it's really cool to read in-depth and interesting takes from people who obviously have a better scope on the ins and outs than I would!

I agree that Knives's genocidal nature isn't really easy to translate to a modern era. He's a tough guy to nail down! In my head at least, he's more of a nihilistic environmentalist while Vash is an optimistic one. I see him working in a very white-coat, laboratory, scientific field when it comes to conservation, he just strikes me as a scientist type. Him and Vash don't always see eye to eye on everything, and oftentimes he thinks he has to protect Vash because his brother is far too forgiving to the world, no matter how cruel it's been to him. But Vash doesn't want to be coddled either, he's not naive. He's making a conscious effort every day to choose to see the good in the world around them, and for one reason or another Nai just can't wrap his head around that.

He still loves his westerns though, I'm definitely keeping that. Nai was glued to Vash's stream when he was playing through Red Dead Redemption 2, no matter how much he says he doesn't care for video games.

I really liked reading your headcanons too, so thanks for reaching out! If you ever end up wanting to write anything longform that takes place in your modern AU, be sure to link it to me!

#pink chat #anon #asks #streamer au #vash the stampede #millions knives

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hunxi-guilai · 5 years ago

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so I’ve gone off a couple of times in various asks (and in this super short follow-up) on this blog about postcolonial/decolonial dynamics and our consumption of CQL, and to my chagrin, I’ve been sitting on some absolutely wonderful replies in my askbox instead of responding to them.

I’ve been wrestling with myself for a week now about how I wanted to write back, because I do, it’s just -- hard to get into this material without getting super personal, super fast

warning y’all now: this post isn’t going to be superbly eloquent or pre-eminently rebloggable or whatever -- it’s really just going to be me trying to work through a lot of complicated feelings I have as both a consumer and content creator in this fandom

Still with me? Brave soul. Let’s name some of the players on this stage, then;

《陈情令》Chenqingling / The Untamed, a 2019 xianxia television show produced and released in mainland China, which achieved considerable international attention and acclaim (I hesitate to say ‘unprecedented’ without the numbers to back it up but it feels pretty unprecedented to me) through its release on multiple platforms with wide viewership in the Western cultural sphere

yes, I know the novel exists in translated form and has had international readers and fans for years; gonna go ahead and set it gently outside of the scope of this post, sorry

an international fandom, full of lovely folks from various cultural backgrounds who are researching, consuming, and producing material in response to the source text

hunxi-guilai, this blog, run by a second generation Chinese-American person who majored in a field relevant to themes and contexts in CQL during undergrad

several centuries of colonization and imperialism by Western powers, most notably in the 20th century

several centuries of colonization and imperialism within East Asia itself

I’m going to go ahead and put ‘rampant xenophobia, past and present’ on this list as well

the inherently consumptive nature of media

the complicated dynamics of orientalism, self-orientalism, and orientalist fantasies

the fact that Fandoms are Thirsty

This post isn’t out to solve any of these problems, but I’m hoping that by setting everything out in bullet points, I might be able to contextualize where I’m coming from with these posts. A great deal of my personal unease while participating in this fandom is just that -- personal. It comes out of my own experience of having the audacity to move through the spaces I inhabit while looking the way I look, speaking the way I speak, and making the things I do.

It starts first with orientalism, that long and illustrious European tradition of romanticizing, fetishizing, and exoticizing the Other, the (Near or Far) Eastern, which comes down to us today in all sorts of delightful phenomena like Yellow Fever and Rice Queens, the tiger parenting mythos and the model minority. It lingers in my daily life in the question ah, but where are your parents from? and in cat-calls from across the street; it surfaces in my self-doubt about whether I should have studied what I studied, in the ways I constantly try to prove, even to casual passerbys, no, don’t dismiss me like that, I’m not just another Chinese tourist, I was born here.

It lives somewhere between reading about the increase in hate crimes and thinking helluva birthright, this place.

It comes out of the marginalization and the erasure of the Chinese-American identity, the fact that Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club is still considered representative and emblematic of some elusive, monolithic ‘Chinese-American narrative’ (oh don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful book, but it’s also thirty years old at this point). It’s spending my formative years grappling with the impossibility of being Chinese enough to feel worthy of some so-called ‘heritage’ and the impossibility of being white enough to be considered ‘a real American.’

It’s struggling with the inherently visual and consumptive nature of television paired with historically subaltern identities, attempting to negotiate the objectifying gaze of audience and the validation of Western recognition. It’s trying to feel thankful for being noticed in a medium that takes, and takes, and takes. It’s scrolling past post after post tagged with nothing but adoration for the physical beauty of an ethnic profile that Western media hegemony has always informed me was too short, too masculine, too effeminate, too chubby, too exotic, too Other, and when you smile too widely, your eyes disappear.

At the same time -- isn’t this everything I wanted? A show that I love achieving international fame and accolade? Representation onscreen? An English-language fandom I can participate freely in? A situation where my undergraduate degree is actually relevant?

Yes and no, because I look around and see that we’ve all fallen in love with a fantasy -- a fantasy world, a fantasy China, a fantasy television show. I grew up on Western fantasy, on Tolkien and Rowling, Jordan and McCaffrey -- fantasy and I, we’re childhood sweethearts -- but I’ve also spent years living on the edges of this particular fantasy, paying regular visits to the wuxia genre, spending long hours tramping through the borders between reality and fiction and the messiness in between. For me, I’m seeing the fantasy of CQL in glorious oversaturation, a technicolor mix of truth and fiction, ambiguity and tradition, culture and constructedness --

-- and it pulls a fond, wistful twist from the corner of my mouth, because I know that there is no space for someone exactly like me in this fantasy, futuristic diasporic Chinese descendent, forever more fluent in translation than heritage --

but that’s a load of self-indulgent angst. The point I’m trying to make is, a lot of folks are still watching this show in black and white, and taking the single spots of color I offer up in vaguely coherent metas as entire palettes. To quote Brandon Sanderson, there’s always another secret. In this context:

there’s always more complexity

What I’m trying to say, couched in less opaque metaphor, I said better in a previous post:

What I’m trying to get at here is [resisting] a homogenized/essentialist reading of China and Chinese culture – there’s no single version of China, just as there’s no single way of being Chinese.

I love CQL, but it does absolutely nothing to disrupt the narrative of a monolithic China. Is that it’s job? No, of course not; but then it falls upon others to do that work.

(Sometimes, that Other is me. Sometimes, it’s just easier to quote from my own posts because I already know what I wrote):

...Chinese history is not a single, linear narrative from start to finish. Dynasties rise; dynasties fall. There are long centuries of disunion between each dynasty, where culturally-distinct kingdoms war amongst each other. Rituals come in and out of fashion; standards of beauty oscillate; literary movements fall out of favor and new ones rise to take their place; gender relations fluctuate along sliding scales of freedom and equality; styles of clothing pass out of vogue; etiquette and social courtesies shift...

What even is “Chinese?” China, as its borders are drawn today, includes over 50 ethnic groups – all with their own spiritual practices, rites-of-passage, naming conventions, styles of dress, illustrious ancestry. China, as its borders are drawn today, includes Tibet and Xinjiang – two regions which have historically, been invaders, trading partners, part of some dynasties, not in others. What the fuck even is China? A totalitarian regime, an exoticized fantasy land, the eternally orientalized Other?

(and that doesn’t even START getting into all the diasporic cultures out there)

It’s time for this post to start angling towards a point, but I don’t have one -- like I said earlier, I haven’t solved any of these problems, and still struggle with them on a daily basis. What I do have, however, are the best anons anyone can ask for:

I DID have a good day thanks to you anon, and it’s super reassuring to hear that I’m not the only person troubled by this. You know, that classic diasporic experience: Are These Really Microaggressions Or Am I Just Being Oversensitive?

<3 you’re bothered, I’m bothered, and in the end, nobody’s done anything wrong -- everyone in this fandom (or at least, my corner of it) is so supportive! And appreciative! And balanced and open-minded and genuinely curious!

It’s just sometimes... exhausting. It’s hard work overriding decades of internalized erasure and stereotype, but it’s good work.

hi anon, you put a lot into words that I’ve been trying and failing to articulate in this post. I’ve been thinking a lot about this Audre Lorde quote recently:

Black and Third World people are expected to educate white people as to our humanity. Women are expected to educate men. Lesbians and gay men are expected to educate the heterosexual world. The oppressors maintain their position and evade their responsibility for their own actions. There is a constant drain of energy which might be better used in redefining ourselves and devising realistic scenarios for altering the present and constructing the future.

and trying to figure out if there’s a box I fit into in there. The thing is, I genuinely enjoy answering asks, researching old texts, trawling the internet for answers. It’s just that sometimes... I get tired.

hello yes you are now one of my anons sorry not sorry I’m keeping this one folks

it’s overwhelming from this end too!!! there’s so much goddamned history and literature and cultural referents to catch up on!!! I still haven’t gotten the hang of English-language memes, much less homophonous character-based memes!!!

h e ck

thank you, anon, for checking in, being so open, and also reminding me to check myself. I went so suddenly and vociferously off the handle in my original post, and then when I didn’t get much response, proceeded to assume the worst. That was pretty hasty and close-minded of me, and I apologize, because I want myself to be better than that, and being better than that means letting people sit and think and breathe in peace, god, hunxi, c’mon --

it’s hard!!!! It’s so hard to figure out how to just be a decent person in society, much less a good one, because our interactions are fraught with the conflict and context of a thousand generations of 江湖恩怨 kindnesses and wrongs, debts unpaid and feuds unended and favors forgotten and lives owed.

Anyway, this post has been super long; I’m not sure if y’all got anything out of reading it, but I feel like I got plenty out of writing it. Thanks for sticking with me. It’s an ongoing process. We all are -- ongoing processes, that is. And thanks to all the anons who hopped into my askbox to help me improve my process; here’s to hoping it sticks

#long text post #ask and ye shall receive #positivity #<3 #tw race #tw microaggressions #I keep wishing this post had a stronger conclusion but that would slap an artificial ending on a narrative that's still ongoing #aka the narrative of my life #trust me I wish I knew the details of how my plot arc is working out too #head sleepy thoughts 剪不断理还乱 rn #I'm not even sure I want to start a conversation about this anymore? because it is Exhausting to contemplate #the late hour is not helping

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arkaniist · 4 years ago

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I wrote 2.5k words about Tolkien, WWI, Le Morte d’Arthur, the Iliad and Odyssey, and more, all bundled happily in an essay about queer subtext in the Lord of the Rings revolving around the relationship between Sam and Frodo. I posted about this before, and someone asked me to post the essay, so here it is!

Homoerotic Subtext in the Lord of the Rings

In June of 1916, J. R. R. Tolkien shipped out from England to France to join his comrades on the Western Front. In July, he would participate in one of the bloodiest struggles of World War 1, the Battle of the Somme. Just a month later, he would be struck with Trench Fever, placing him in convalescence or behind a desk for the remainder of the war. Though his front-line experience was short, there is no denying the effect that the war and the loss of his closest friends had on Tolkien, nor the influence it had on his writing in the post-war years. Much has been written on that topic already. However, there is one aspect of Tolkien’s time in the service which is underexplored when it comes to the literary critique of his legendarium – of which the Lord of the Rings is but a piece – and that is his exposure to the widespread homoerotic attitudes which were a common undercurrent in the British armed forces during that time.

Homosexuality has always been an overlooked behavior on the front during wartime, even as it passed from common practice to taboo. One reason for this might be that people who are worried about being shot to death in a trench have other things to worry about besides who their mates might be kissing. Another might be that facing death brings a greater appreciation for love to the front of the mind, and it does not matter which gender that appreciation is directed towards. As a result, we find many examples in literature and letters of men expressing chaste but deep homoerotic love for other men. In The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussel writes that in WWI-era battlefield poetry, one could not fail to notice ‘the unique physical tenderness, the readiness to admire openly the bodily beauty of young men, the unapologetic recognition that men may be in love with each other.’ (303). “War poetry has the subversive tendency to be our age’s love poetry.” he quotes Richard Fein. In that case, we must examine war literature for the same sentiments.

Most common in officers towards their men, we find ‘something more like the “idealistic,” passionate but non-physical “crushes” which most of the officers had experienced at public school. … What inspired such passions was — as always — faunlike good looks, innocence, vulnerability, and “charm.” The object was mutual affection, protection, and admiration.’ (Fussel 295) This makes sense, as ‘the tradition in Victorian homosexuality and homoeroticism [is] that soldiers are especially attractive. What makes them so is their youth, their athleticism, their relative cleanliness, their uniforms, and their heroic readiness, like Adonis or St. Sebastian, for “sacrifice.”’ (Fussel 302) In the Lord of the Rings, we find Frodo described as ‘taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.’ (Tolkien 163). At his coming-of-age birthday party, he inherits the great evil that is the One Ring from his great uncle; he is an unintentional sacrificial lamb. Later, when he volunteers to take the One Ring to Mt. Doom knowing that it is likely a one-way trip if he can even make it that far, we find in our protagonist a young, beautiful, self-sacrificing hero.

Fussel writes that ‘although the usual course of protective affection was from superior to subordinate, sometimes the direction was reversed, with men developing hero-worshipping crushes on their young officers.’ (297) Enter Frodo’s counterpart and co-protagonist, Samwise Gamgee. Tolkien wrote in a 1956 letter to a fan that “My ‘Samwise’ is indeed (as you note) largely a reflexion [sic] of the English soldier—grafted on the village-boys of early days, the memory of the privates and my batmen that I knew in the 1914 War, and recognized as so far superior to myself.” (Letter 187)

A batman, in military parlance, was a soldier who, as well as fighting, oversaw an officer’s kit, cooking, and cleaning. (Garth) However, Sam is so much more than Frodo’s servant, though they start the journey as master of the house and gardener. Sam shows an incredible dedication to Frodo that cannot be explained as mere class-based loyalty. Take this passage from Return of the King when the enemy has captured Frodo. The Hobbits are separated, and Sam is up against what seems like impossible odds – faced with the task of raiding an entire tower he assumes is filled with enemies, alone, armed only with a short sword. He does not even know where Frodo is or if he is still alive:

‘… Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there’s nobody left alive in the place!’

And with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stone wall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? ‘Frodo, Frodo! Master!’ he cried, half sobbing. ‘If they’ve killed you, what shall I do? Well, I’m coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must.’ (Tolkien 887)

… He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand. (Tolkien 889)

Besides demonstrating Sam’s willingness to face certain death rather than leave Frodo, this passage is a perfect illustration of another one of Tolkien’s literary inspirations besides the Great War. Tolkien was a scholar of European mythology, drawing inspiration for his legendarium from epic myths like the Old English Beowulf and the Finnish Kalevala. Read the following lines from Le Morte d’Arthur regarding King Arthur’s death:

Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? … And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest… (Mallory, Book 21 ch. V.)

Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. (Mallory, Book 21 ch. VI.)

These Medieval warrior relationships themselves draw from an even older literary tradition, one with not so much covert homoerotism but overt homosexuality. Ancient homosexual pederastic relationships like that of Alexander and Hephaestion or Achilles and Patroclus form the model for many close male warrior literary relationships. Compare Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death in the Iliad to that of Bedivere to Arthur’s and Sam to Frodo’s:

A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands. … Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and holding both Achilles’ hands as he lay groaning for Antilochus feared that Achilles might plunge a knife into his own throat. (Homer, Book XVIII)

Near-suicidal grief at the loss of the beloved is a common theme between the three of them. Achilles lives to avenge Patroclus, Bedivere lives to pray for Arthur’s soul, and Sam, as luck and Tolkien would have it, lives to save Frodo, who was not dead after all, though it was a close thing. Sam’s joy at finding Frodo alive is as poignant as his grief at having thought he lost him – unashamed physical affection and more tears follow the discovery of his master.

[Frodo] was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

‘Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. ‘It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.

…

‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo’s forehead. (Tolkien 889)

Tolkien’s earlier description of Sam as a combination of village boy and batman fits neatly with Fussel’s declaration that ‘to the degree that front-line homoeroticism was sentimental it can be seen to constitute another element of pastoral.’ (Fussel 300) In the Lord of the Rings, the Shire – Sam and Frodo’s home – represents the ultimate ideal of Pastoralism. In the Shire, Hobbits live community-focused rural lives with minimal conflict, drinking and feasting and partying, with little to no exposure to more advanced societies of the East. In that light, the entire quest of the Lord of the Rings can be seen as a removal from the Pastoral – the world becomes darker, less hospitable, and less natural the further East the Hobbits travel until they reach their end goal: a blighted, unnatural wasteland dominated by machinery.

As Frodo falls further and further under the sway of the One Ring, he forgets the Shire. He loses his connection to his pastoral home. Nevertheless, ever at his side is his loyal Sam, who recalls even in the darkest moments the comforts of home. Sam is Frodo’s link to the pastoral ideal when his suffering is the greatest. Sam’s yearning for the pastoral often comes up in the form of recalling Frodo as he was in the Shire. This is exemplified by the following passage near the end of their quest, just after the One Ring has been destroyed:

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. (Tolkien 926)

While Sam represents and thus easily returns to an idyllic pastoral existence after the war, Frodo remains haunted by his experiences. Finally, we reach the real end of Frodo and Sam’s journey, the temporary separation before the eternal unification. Frodo and Sam go to see off Frodo’s uncle, and there Frodo reveals he will be passing into the West as well – a form of eternal life in Middle Earth, but one that is forever separate from the rest of the world:

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood, what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. … You will … keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more.’ (Tolkien 1006)

Here we see Frodo acknowledge that this separation splits Sam’s spirit – part of Sam goes to his home and family, but part always goes with Frodo. Frodo encourages him to live the rest of his life fully in the Shire, and when the time has come, he can reunite with Frodo in the ‘afterlife.’ Contrast this to Patroclus’ final request of Achilles in the Iliad:

“One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; … let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother.” (Homer, Book XXIII)

Furthermore, the resolution in the Odyssey, as Odysseus reassures Achilles that his will was done:

Your mother brought us a golden vase to hold them—gift of Bacchus, and work of Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroclus who had gone before you… (Homer, Book XXIV)

Return of the King ends with Sam riding home with a heavy heart to his family after watching Frodo’s ship depart to the West. Like the Iliad and Odyssey, we must read a bit further to determine what eventually happens with Frodo and Sam. The Lord of the Rings has a massive amount of supplementary material, including maps and family trees. In Appendix B, we find a chronology of the years before, during, and after the main novels. It reveals that at age 96, after the death of his wife, Samwise rides out to the Havens and passes over the Great Sea to unite with Frodo for the final time.

Queerness is often overlooked in serious examinations of literature, especially when the voices of cishet men dominate the discussion, as they do in Tolkien scholarship. Tolkien scholars have repeatedly dismissed the idea of homoeroticism in Tolkien’s works as silly fangirls making things gay for titillation, which erases queer voices and condemns queerness to the realm of the unrealistic and ahistorical.

I have been a fan of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit since I was queer child struggling with gender identity and sexual attraction. In sixth grade, I received my first copy of the Lord of the Rings, and I read it voraciously until the pages started to fall out. Although I did not fully recognize the homoerotic undertones back then, I still yearned for the deep, lasting, emotionally fulfilling, and life-changing same-sex relationships I saw in those books. Even 20 years later, as a queer adult, the idea that I might share something so intensely personal with my heroes is vitally important to me. J. R. R. Tolkien died in 1973. He was a devout Catholic who maintained a lasting friendship with a gay poet and spoke with great esteem of a novel about gay men written by a lesbian; one can hardly imagine what he might have said about the idea of queer subtext in his writing. But if I, a queer reader, recognize some essential part of myself in Sam or Frodo, if I see my bonds in their bond, is that not enough to warrant an entrance into the discussion and serious consideration? Whether you see their relationship as a purely platonic friendship or a great romance of the ages, Sam and Frodo are in love.

Works Cited

Fussel, Paul. The Great War and Modern Memory. Oxford University Press, 2013

Garth, John. “Sam Gamgee and Tolkien’s batmen.” 13 February 2013, [msg for link].

Homer. The Iliad. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 2000. [msg for link].

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 1999. [msg for link].

Malory, Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur, edited by Caxton, William, and Sir Edward Strachey. Project Gutenberg, 2014. [msg for link].

Tolkien, J. R. R. “Letter 187.” The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Tolkien, Christopher, and Humphrey Carpenter. Houghton Mifflin, 1981.

—. The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers, 1994.

#lord of the rings #lotr #queer theory #queer academia #sam x frodo #samfrodo #samfro #is that the tumblr shipname?#if u wanna cite this anywhere now that i'm officially publishing it (by posting it) u absolutely can #but please credit me as Alex Kakela and not arkaniis lmfao

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stecesworld · 3 years ago

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A Feudal Legend. Sesshomaru

(( Hello everyone! This is my first ever fanfic. I have always wanted to write one but was always too nervous that I wouldn't be able to do the charas justice. But I have been having this idea in my head since the begining of Yashime. And I came to the thought, if Sunrise can write a fan fiction and screw up as bad as they did with my favorite chara. Then maybe my noob fic wont be so bad. This is a story of sesshomaru and a OC chara of mine by the name of Akina. This is hopefully the first of many pieces of the story. I hope you all like it.))

“ Young master! Young master, where are you!?” The panicked calls of a young maid running throughout the palace as she ran the halls desperately searching for this land's prince “ Oh where could he be?” It was almost time for his lessons and he was going to be late.

Not too far away, in the forest that surrounded the palace a young boy with silver hair tied into a ponytail and golden eyes no older than ten sat comfortably on a large tree branch, his back leaning against the trunk. He wore a simple yet elegant looking kimono, The fabric, silken and flowed like water everytime he moved to turn a page in the book he was reading . A pattern of purple and blue sakura flowers and petals accented the otherwise white outfit. Starting from the collar and flowing down the left arm. Lightly wrapped over his right shoulder, was a small tuft of fur, looking like a fluffy unwrapped scarf just hanging there.

His eyes glued to the pages of the book, bright with joy that he finally managed to get some time in peace. This young man was the young master of the palace. Inu Sesshomaru. As the prince of the palace and heir to the western lands, Sesshomaru didn’t have much free time. His days were normally filled with lessons and study. History, legends, etiquette, fighting, and how to be a strong and just lord. There was much that was placed upon the shoulders of the young youkai, and he wished to learn all he could from his parents. Sometimes even a prince needs some peace and quiet. So without a word Sesshomaru took his book and left the palace escaping the world of nobility for just a little while.

Sadly, quiet would not last long for the young prince, for there was rapid rustling in the brush followed by yelling. He let out a silent exacerbated sigh. Something was here to disturb him and he had just gotten to the good part of the book as well. Not raising his focus from the pages he pretended to ignore the noise as it got closer. Maybe if he acted as if he didn’t exist, whatever it was would just run right past him. Sadly, that was not what happened…

First a rabbit burst forth, hopping as fast as its little legs would take it. Soon grunts and gumbles followed the rabbit. The pursuer, obviously having a hard time with the dense plants It wasn’t long and with a yip a girl came tumbling from the brush. Her foot had caught on a root causing her to trip and roll a little before stopping face first on her stomach a foot or so away from him. “ Owe..” She groaned as she pushed herself from the ground and onto her knees. “ That really hurt…. Stupid rabbit.” She grumbled rubbing her head. Her long raven black hair ended in the middle of her back and was filled with leaves and small sticks. Her tan skin was covered in dirt and scrapes,her clothing was tattered, and stained. It was obvious that this girl was what one would call a street urchin.

She let out a light hiss and pulled her hand away from her head revealing a decent size cut on the palm of her hand and some blood on her face. She frowned at her hand and let out a sigh. That was going to sting for a week. She was about to stand up when the sound of something hitting the ground caught her attention. “ Huh?” She looked to the tree, her eyes going wide for standing above looking down at her was a beautiful young boy, he looked like a spirit from the forest itself.

Sesshomaru, after hearing the girl hiss in pain, finally closed his book and jumped down the tree branch. The girl was hurt enough for him to smell blood, she was going to attract hungry demons if something wasn’t done about it. He had only taken a couple of steps towards her when her head finally lifted from her palm. As soon as her eyes met his, he stopped and like her was frozen for a moment. Now, how can a demon, especially the young prince of the lord of the west, be stopped by a mere mortal girl? It was her eyes. Though she was human her eyes were of two different colors. One a bright sapphire blue and the other a clear amethyst purple. They shone brightly, full of spirit despite her disheveled appearance. A light breeze blue passed them, fluttering hair and clothing while it took some fallen leaves from the ground with it.

“ Uh, Ah!” The young girls surprised yip broke the silent moment between them as she fell back off her knees and onto her butt. She had not expected to see anyone in this forest, let alone a spirit boy.” W,what are you doing here?!” Sesshomaru just walked forward without speaking a word, the young girl panicking for a moment. “ Hey, stay back, don't make me fight you!” She called out looking around frantically for anything she could use as a weapon. Spotting a rock she picked it up with her cut hand and winced. “ Owe!” She quickly dropped the rock groaning from the dirt now in her cut. “ You are making it worse.” The tone in which the boy spoke was cool, and a bit uncaring as if the existence of other living beings bothered him and he was merely showing her concern because if he didn’t it could possibly be an inconvenience to him later. “ Huh?” She watched in surprise when he knelt down, placed the book on the ground and gently took her hand in his to look at the cut. “ Keep getting dirt in it will make it worse.” He repeated, now sounding slightly annoyed at how dim witted this human girl seemed. The young girl frowned. “ I didn’t mean...ssssssst” She hissed, interrupting her own sentence. “ You make too much noise.” Once he had wiped away as much dirt from her hand he took a piece of his kimono. “ What are you doing?” The sound of cloth tearing graced her ears and she once more panicked. “ H-Hey you can't do that!” She squeaked watching as the fancy white cloth was torn up to create a wrapping for her hand. “ It’s my kimono, I can do what I will with it.” Sesshomaru replied as he tied the silken cloth around her hand to protect the cut. “Still…” She bit her lip until he was finished and looked at her hand. The pristine white fabric looked completely out of place wrapped around her dirty hand. “ Thank you, but, why did you do that?” She asked looking up to him as he picked up his book and stood back up. “ I don’t like the smell of blood. Your hand was reeking of it.” The young girl blinked at him in surprise. “Blood?” She looked down to her now bandaged hand surprised that he was able to smell blood. It was then that sesshomaru started walking away. “ Hey were you going?!” She called out watching him leave. “ Somewhere else, this place smells. I don’t want to be bothered by others.” Others, meaning hungry demons. Not that he was afraid of hungry demons, he just didn’t want to be bothered by them. “ Others? Wait, you don’t mean demons right!?” Sesshomaru said nothing and just kept walking. “ Hey, wait!” She called out, scrambling to her feet and running after him.

“ By the way, my name is Akari.” She said with a smile placing her hands behind her back. “ What’s your name?” He did not answer, instead, he stated an observation. “ You’re exhausted.” Akari stopped for a moment frozen from the statement, then sighed but smiled nonetheless. She didn’t blame him, she was spazzy and a bit of an emotional roller coaster. “ Yeah I guess I am.” She then started walking. “ You still haven't told me your name, you know.” She said once she caught up to him. “ Sesshomaru.” Akina smiled brightly. “ It’s nice to meet you, sesshomaru.”

From that moment on they talked. Well more of akina talked and sesshomaru searched for a new place to read, only opening his mouth to answer a question or two. Strangely, he found himself enjoying this interaction with this human girl. Normally he wasn’t very social, but for some reason he wanted to hear what she said. Especially with the next topic. “ And that is how I found this really cool cave to live in.” He stopped walking and looked over to her curiously. “ A cave?” She nodded excitedly that he was showing interest in her cave. “ Yeah, it’s huge, it even has a waterfall and spring in the back so I have clean water.” Sesshomaru gave her a strange face . “ Why are you living in a cave?” Throughout this whole time she had been talking she didn’t mention how she came to be out here in the forest. Akina looked down at her demon shifting to a more melancholy state. “ I was exiled from the village. There was a drought and some animals died. Everyone seas it’s my fault, that I am a demon.” This fully caught sesshomaru's attention. “ Why’s that?” He asked curiously. “ Well…” Akina fiddles with the bow on her wrapping slightly. Not enough to unwrap it but small tugs. “ It’s because of my eyes. Everyone seas they are not normal and that only demons can have my eyes. They say that my eyes are signs of evil and they did not want me in the village anymore. Because I was bringing drought and sickness. Seshomaru let out a snuff in amusement. “ You, bring about Drought and sickness? Ridiculous.” He said then started walking again. Akina blinked at him, surprised. “ How do you know that?!” Sesshomaru smiled. “ Because I was able to smell your blood. You are definitely human.” Akina’s expression went from a questioning look to a beaming smile. He was the first one to ever see her as human. She opened her mouth to say more when the panicked calls of multiple people rang out. “ Young master!” “Young master, where are you?!” “ Young master!”

Sesshomaru sighed and looked to the direction of the voices. “ I am guessing you are the one they are looking for. Huh?” Sesshomaru nodded in repsode Akina began rubbing her arm with her non cut hand. “ Okay, well…. I guess I will see you then.” Her tone was quiet, and somber but still hopeful. A hint that Sesshomaru did not miss, he looked back at her and nodded. Akina perked up from his response. “ Okay! Then how about tomorrow!?Meet me at the tree okay!” Sesshomaru lifted his hand and waved, showing that he heard her as he disappeared back into the forest. Akina giggling excitedly that she had made a friend. Even if she knew nothing about him. Questions she would have to ask tomorrow. A rustling of brush caught her attention and out hopped a rabbit. The young girl crouched down instantly. “ Okay rabbit this time you're mine.” With that she pounced into the brush.

It didn’t take long once sesshomaru was out in the open for the staff to find him. “ Young master there you are.” We were worried about you.” Your father wishes to see you.” They all said at the same time as they dusted him off and straightened his clothing. The youngest female of the group gasped in horror when she saw the tear in his sleeve. “ Young master, what happened!?” Sesshomaru looked at the woman glaring and pulling his sleeve from her grip. “ Nothing.” He replied and began walking into the palace.

He walked through the doorway and headed to the stairs when out from the side room stepped his mother. The queen of the palace stopped and giving her son a look over. He smelled of a human girl, and blood. Her eyes then fell on his clothing. Feigning ignorance She returned her eyes to her son's face. “ Sesshomaru dear, your clothing is all tattered. What happened?” She asked, flicking open her fan. Sesshomaru looked up to his mother. “ Tore it on a tree branch.” He replied as he headed to his room. “ Did you?” Inukimi replied with a knowing smile spreading across her lips as she his behind the fan. “ Very well, go on and get changed, your father wishes to teach you.” Sesshomaru nodded and wade his way down the hall to his room. His mind is still thinking of his meeting with the strange mortal girl Akina.

#anti sessrin #anti sunrise

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malaysiankpopfans · 3 years ago

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Joy Ruckus Club K-Pop SuperFest on Sunday 20 June adds two acts to lineup

San Francisco, Ca: May 16, 2021 -- Following last weekend's fundraiser 'I Hate Being Hated' http://sessionslive.com/ihateb..., Sessions is thrilled to announce another new collaboration with Joy Ruckus Club, the largest Asian music festival in the world, to present K-Pop SuperFest on Sunday, June 20, 2021 at https://sessionslive.com/joyruckusclub at 9AM MYT.

The one-day festival is the first of its kind for Sessions, and features performances from the premiere K-Pop superstars. The exciting line-up includes 11-member K-pop group The Boyz, legendary South Korean pop star Rain, powerhouse vocalist and chart topping singer/songwriter Ailee, and one of K-Pop’s most exciting rapper and singers’ Jessi. They will be joined by boy band AB6IX, American breakthrough girl group Momoland, South Korean girl groups GWSN and Woo!ah!, boy bands Cravity and Golden Child, girl group Lovelyz, rapper Bloo, and DJ Soda. K-Pop sensations AleXa and Kevin (The Boyz) will host the global event.

Even as a one-day festival, with livestream filming taking place at the famed Yes24 Live Hall in Seoul, K-Pop SuperFest will be one of the biggest K-Pop festivals in the world and undoubtedly the biggest K-Pop virtual festival in the Western world.

The founder of Joy Ruckus Club, Kublai Kwon made his name as a pioneer of the Asian American music scene. His first cousin is the late great Shin Hae Chul, who is Korea's first K-pop superstar and creator of the K-pop music genre. According to Kwon, this new festival honors his legacy by highlighting the superstars of K-Pop today.

“Sessions’ growth is rapidly accelerating across Asia,” said Sessions co-Founder Tim Westergren. “The K-Pop SuperFest represents another milestone as we bring even larger events to fans across 194 countries and 18 languages. Sessions' unique combination of gamification and marketing is driving attendance and revenue for artists at an unprecedented level, and our partnership with Kublai and Joy Ruckus Club continues to deepen.”

Event t-shirts, NFT videos, signed posters, and virtual 1-on-1 meet & greet opportunities with artists will be available in the festival's and artists' stores on Sessions. This is the first time that Sessions will be promoting a K-Pop only festival. Complete Lineup AB6IX, Ailee, AleXa, Bloo, Cravity, DJ Soda, Golden Child, GWSN, Jessi, Lovelyz, Momoland, Rain, The Boyz, Woo!ah! Date: 20 JUNE 2021 (Sunday) Time: 9AM (Malaysia) Ticket: https://sessionslive.com/joyruckusclub/tickets Ticket starts at $20 (RM82.80)

#kpop #k-pop #pressrelease #K-pop Superfest

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cribb4eva · 4 years ago

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Trump ft. Beauty and the Beast au

A Retelling of

The Beauty and the Beast

AND THE WALL THAT BROUGHT THEM TOGETHER

featuring

· Donald Frump as the majority stakeholder of BeautyTM

· J Jenkins, better known as the Beast, a professional competitive eater

(HENCEFORTH REFERRED TO AS B&B)

[A/n - as I write this I hear the two loudly arguing about the moniker.

Beast: “I like it. It goes a long way to show how we truly united.”

Beauty: “Covfefe”]

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

Once upon a time there lived an immensely wealthy merchant in a lavish home the likes of which the world had never seen (and god willing would never see again). As the rich are prone to do when bored, he bred in his spare time. As the result, the monstrosity he called his home witnessed a flowering of horses, ducks and wailing human children, and Monsieur (because Frump was a fan of the French) Frump had to overcome the first hurdle of parenthood – the naming ceremony. We can safely assume he did not do very well, as one of his (many, many) children and (equally numerous) ducks ended up with the same name – a lovely, well rounded ‘Donald’. Pause now, and witness this wonder of the world, both Donalds have illustrious careers ahead of them- one immortalized on the silver screen along with his various animal friends, who he loved to take the mickey out of, and the other, human version immortalized thanks to the work of your very own writer of this tale.

We move now to the future, an older Donald the Human greets us, spewing pearls of wisdom ( à la the classic fairy-tale Toads and Diamonds, pardon my old fangled references) while Donald the Duck, sailor’s cap et all is sadly, dust in the wind. To make my point, let me grace you, dear reader, with some of his (earth shattering, epoch defining) words - "I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will have Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words." One could say he had delusions of grandiloquence.

Ah, but this Wall is to play a role in the tale, as all great dreams begin with a dreamer, to borrow from Madam Tubman, who will no doubt be distinctly displeased at my using said quote for said human. What one needs to remember then, is that the human Donald had grown up into his name, and now (very un-ironically) owned Beauty Corp.TM, the premier destination for exploiting societal expectations of beauty for women and turning a profit, and its subsidiary, Miss Whole-Goddamn-Universe, where Donald the human, whom we shall now refer to as Mr. Frump, would fulfil his yearly quota of ogling at women and generally making everyone uncomfortable. In a sentence, Mr. Frump owned BeautyTM, and if that bit of irony doesn’t make your day better, I’m afraid the dark side has won you over.

The wheel of time turns, kicks up the gravel on the road, and leaves dust in its wake. Circumstances change. For it just so happened that Frump the senior had to leave his monstrous home to bring down the economy of a small third world country, and this parting from his brood brought much sorrow. “What shall I bring for you” he cried, tears flowing down his cheeks thanks to dust allergies caused by the afore mentioned wheel of time. In a chorus of “drones!” “A small spaceship!” and “the Kohinoor!” young Donald’s “a wall” claimed the heart of his sire.

Thus Frump senior began his long and arduous journey to the third world country, his pain exacerbated by the fact that the airline did not offer first class passage. His return found his joy dulled, for while he had successfully managed to oust the leader, and scam them , the country still retained the rights over its own resources, and in his fatigue, he forget about the promises he had made to his children. Presently he remembered those promises and went about fulfilling them; a quick text to his friend Geoff Pesos of Amazing Inc. would take care of the easier demands. A wall would prove to be more daunting, and in his desperation he directed his goons to the first wall he saw and told them to take it apart and bring it to Donald.

Alas for Mr. Frump that the wall belonged to one J. JENKINS, COMPETITIVE EATER EXTRAORDINAIRE, with a social media presence to rival even that of the most venerated reality television stars. Now Jenkins was a simple bloke. He lived to eat and not the other way around. His online persona The Beast would have gotten along excellently with Monsieur Frump on any other day, given that both were paragons of Western gluttony.

However, as one might assume, Jenkins did not take kindly to thugs tearing down a wall of his house (who would have thought?). And as is the norm, Jenkins threatened an expose, which as we know, is universally accepted as the Truth, which Mr. Frump, slayer of third world countries could not risk at present. As diamond cuts diamond, so does social media prove to be a wonderful defence against Mr. Frump’s team of lawyers( who took great pride in being called sharks and endeavoured to live up to the name by looking more and more like the watery predators). I have said before, and I will say again, nothing beats the threat of public embarrassment, as Frump Senior would find out unless he agreed to bring Donald the human to the abode of one J. Jenkins and apologise. Jenkins was a traditionalist and believed in punishing the son for the sins of the father.

For the purpose of this tale, let us assume that both Frumps, junior and senior are unable to pay off the wily Jenkins and scowling, go out to meet him- “But daddy, it's really cold outside, they are calling it a major freeze, weeks ahead of normal. Man, we could use a big fat dose of global warming!”

The Beast, as Jenkins was known, had grand plans for Mr. Frump junior, who was well known around the globe for his previously mentioned making-women-uncomfortable activities. The Beast also had a secret. His WeTube sponsors had threatened to withdraw, following his ‘I ate a bat for breakfast’ video which they believed would not be taken well since it had been a mere ten months after the outbreak of the MorBid 19 pandemic. He needed to pull something so amazingly outrageous, so steadfastly loony, and so horrifically absurd so as to make the ramifications of his previous video null and void. And along came Frump junior, funny how fate functions. Rarely had the world witnessed such serendipity; the solution dropped into the lap of a mortal with such ease.

Thus was born the idea of a video titled- ‘The Famous Mr. Frump Eats Healthy For A Week, Shocker I Know’. Cue the gasps of amazement, the astonishment of the netizens; for if there was a thing Mr. Frump was even better known for, it was his absolute detestation for anything green and fibrous. God forbid you utter the word healthy around him, while the N word (nutri****) had to be censored to avoid the inevitable hissy fits.

And so Jenkins convinced Frump junior to pay off his father’s debt by living with him for a week, to record the challenge (which would go on to be featured in WeTube’s yearly Rewind, and thus achieve digital stardom). Needless to say, Donald’s siblings were decidedly not pleased, for there are those in this world who envy a fellow human even a chance of dodgy WeTube fame.

Donald dithered, and as per usual, couldn’t make up his mind. In the end, he had to return to the Beast, for the Frump Empire was still very much open to the criticism of said WeTube star and animosity due to his demolished wall. Thus the Wall brought the owner of BeautyTM to the Beast, who had been languishing at the thought of having to make a living once his sponsors cut him off.

Cue dramatic reunion, a week of healthy eating that changed their lives, for the Beast repented his ways and decided that perhaps wasting food in a hungry world was in bad taste (pun intended), and the owner of BeautyTM realised that perhaps there was something to be said for actually focusing on what goes in the body rather than what is slapped on outside.

When you thing of their future, think of a viral WeTube video. Think of a new WeTube channel called B&B. Here we end our tale, and they lived (how long I cannot say, for I am no seer).

#i didnt mean to #aaaaaa #i'm sorry #beauty and the beast #tw trump

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harrietvane · 6 years ago

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do you mind talking about why you dislike Love Actually and Richard Curtis's romcoms? I've seen you mention it in some of your tags and I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

Long post, so scroll now, ye who care not.

OK, so like better voices than mine have articulated Why Love Actually Sucks Balls, but you were kind enough to ask for my view, so strap in I’m gonna talk about Jane Eyre, and the 1990’s Fran Drescher sitcom The Nanny also. It’s coming up on western civilisations’ holiday season, so why not, it’s a good time to tell this movie to choke, because it’s about to be repeatedly thrust upon us once again. (Disclaimer: I acknowledge Richard Curtis is responsible for Blackadder and Vicar of Dibley, so whatever else, we’re still cool on that basis. But I have spite and to spare, so there’s plenty to go around).

My main beef is actually the context. Technically, if all of the below bullshit was in an offbeat movie from any other movie market (I’m thinking maybe a French, or Spanish movie from the 90′s boom, Almodovar style?), the focus would probably be a black humour take on ‘Lord What Fools These Mortals Be!’, sort of look at the inherent ridiculousness of mankind, and how we get in our own way, blah blah, might have been cute. I’d buy that. This movie? A british movie for the american market? It’s sold with a big holiday sticker on it saying ‘ROMANCE’, and specifically ‘ADORABLE ASPIRATIONAL ROMANCE THAT YOU SHOULD ADORE AND ASPIRE TO’. Also the context *inside* the movie itself (through a narration voiceover no less) is that all of these narratives is somehow proof that ‘Love, Actually is all around’, and specifically in a good, wholesome, happy way, overall at least. These stories are redeeming, even if they’re not all happy, they’re Good™ or whatever. The context outside the movie is the same: british TV advertising, hard copy packaging, holiday specials, outdoor gala screenings: they all say over and over: THIS IS SQUISHY HOT PINK NEON LOVE, wholesome, healing, and healthy. You should want this, aspire to this, think this is the cat’s pyjamas! It’s a wide and varied look at the beautiful power of love from all angles, comic, tragic, the lot.

Is it fuck. The ‘positive’ romance stories range from Stage-5 Creeper to Crotch Puppet Afterthought, the ‘melancholy’, thwarted romance stories seem to say ‘if you’re a woman who’s not readily/immediately bangable to your allocated straight dude, romance is over for you I’m afraid’. Let’s recap, shall we:

Much has already been said about Andrew Lincoln’s character BLANTANTLY SHARKING ON HIS BEST MATE’S WIFE being uhhh, less than fresh. I don’t even feel like I need to justify this one, it’s so over-the-top. The main point is that movie itself maintains this as a tragic, swoony, thwarted, heart-string-tugging missed connection, rather than The Worst Friend Ever (meaning: it assumes we’ll be 100% onboard with Keira Knightley skipping secretly away from Chiwetel Eijiofor to grant his best mate one treasured kiss, as opposed to saying ‘what the FUCK Mark, why are you telling me this, this is super inappropriate?? and my only wedding video is just you zooming in on my face? Pls get help’.

We all love National Treasure Colin Firth and all, but like is Love, Actually fixating on a woman who literally can’t speak to you? Has said nothing understandable to you? About whose own life you’ve never yet, and could never have asked about? Whose main interactions with you have been to wordlessly clean your room, bring you food, and tidy it away after? Your ideal woman, who you meet immediately following a break up, is one who silently meets all your domestic needs, while making zero emotional or intellectual demands on you whatsoever? WOW, SHOCKER. (Oh but it’s cute or whatever, they have him propose, and there’s a mix up when her sister appears, but she’s Ugly™, so it’s funny that the sister is not getting romance. I mean, how could she, an uggo?? Classic joke. Good times.)

The Prime Minster and his tea lady: more on Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink below, whoo boy.

Laura Linney would really really like to sleep with Rodrigo Santoro, and god bless her who wouldn’t, but she is tragically unable to, because she has family commitments as being the sister – not even fulltime carer, just RELATED TO - a brother living with disability. Sorry folks, romance is OFF THE CARDS, FOREVER for Laura here. How can she??? That’s the nature of love, actually. Can you have sex right now this moment? No? Whelp, sorry, thanks for playing, back to the Tragic Assisted Living facility for you. Gosh it’s unfortunate that’s a truth universally acknowledged that any whiff of disability = no romance for you ever. (Don’t start me on 4 Weddings* [edit: *it’s totally Notting Hill, not 4 Weddings, thank] and how that husband is like The Best because he continues to love his wife even though her legs don’t work. What a champ, honestly, do they have an award for that?) I have to stop now before I get sarcasm poisoning, but my eyes will continue to roll.

How could I say anything bad about the Liam Neeson widower and his adorable lovestruck son storyine? Lol, I’m gonna. Have you seen the Buffy episode The Zeppo? Xander is convinced the only way girls (as a concept, not in the specific) will like him enough to sleep with him is if he has A Thing. The Thing is posited as ‘being cool’ by having an object or skill that alone will be the magic bullet to romance. Musical instrument prowess is considered, and he ends up just getting a car to be his Thing. This just seems like a redux of that logic. This kid could get some genuine direction from the movie to get to know this girl, learn her interests and share his, see if she likes him as a person by being A PERSON, but the narrative just backs away from that and eventually DOES just say ‘play the drums in the show, she’ll like you’ and that’s …it. But it’s cool, teenagers don’t learn key interpersonal dynamics at this age or anything, she kisses him for some reason, whatever. (Bonus points for gifting his dad with a literal supermodel as a punchline, after making that an actual joke earlier about the shallow nature of attraction, and love is about filling a one-sided need.)

I could go on, but I have very little to say about Freeman falling for a girl whose tits he’s been holding for a week, the no-homo pop star Nighy plot, or the guy that goes and has sex in Wisconsin with Bond Girls, and can’t be bothered, which leads me to…

Richard Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink. Must I kinkshame Richard Curtis in his own home?? Nope, I’m kinkshaming him AT WORK in his narratives, surrounded by his nubile, pliant, adorable female employee characters. Oh Mr Curtis, I seem to have dropped a pencil!

OK, so like a M/F Domestic Servitude romance is an extremely old trope, and extremely common, and I’m not here to tear that up, because done well it’s amazing, lot of petrol in that King Cophetua narrative tank. I’m a fan. The most famous in-context historical example being Jane Eyre, for instance: he’s her boss, she’s his paid subordinate, they’re both 100% aware of that. It’s a great way to explore the real-life class and power dynamics of these 2 train wrecks of human beings, and they vomit their ridiculous drama llama feelings all over a 600 page novel. Super fun, they’re both awful humans, I love them. Mid-century you might have The Sound of Music, and in more modern times you get 1990s sitcom The Nanny, both extremely well-developed romances involving paid employees, and part of their value is that the shows KNOW THIS. They’re aware it’s the basis for their dynamic, that they have to directly play with that, and develop beyond to go anywhere. Watching Fran Fine in her runway-fresh Moschino minidresses jump on Maxwell Sheffield’s desk for the 800th time making him super uncomfortable (and not a little turned on) is always such a treat. It’s right out there on the label. The problem with Love, Actually, is Curtis doesn’t want to admit that naughty secretary seems to be a cornerstone of what gets him going, romantic-stylez.

One (1) time in the movie would be ‘sure, why not’. Literally the highest political office in the land, making overtures to the woman who brings him tea, i guess might be a bit off, but let’s say it’s done well, and maybe Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon’s charisma gets us over the line (his behaviour is cute because her last man didn’t like her body, but the prime minister DOES like her body! so it’s cute!). Whatever, seen worse. Two (2) times however is making a point, and Colin Firth is driving his silent portuguese maid home - not a french maid but so close! - and deciding he’d like her to bring him tea and clean his toilet for as long as they both shall live, and that also seems to be her greatest joy. Ah, l’amour. OK, I guess you like the thing, everyone has a thing, but at least you’re done now. Wait, you mean there’s a third (3rd) one? Everyone’s Fave Alan Rickman drives the plot of his own marriage’s tragic romance because he’s having stiffening feelings about his own Naughty Secretary halloween costume, after all. All the beautiful speeches about Joni Mitchell give Thompson some nice things to do, but it still assumes the Nature of Romance is to want to plough the help. A man can’t help it! It’s how romantic attraction works! Once would be whatever. Three times and there’s a tag on Ao3 for that, so please just scratch that itch and stop selling it to me in a heartwarming christmas movie as the Universal Nature Of Romance, so varied, so vast, the full spectrum! Just 2 hours to tell a story: but 3 whole narratives and 7 actors devoted to the variants on the naughty maid story. My point is be upfront about it and I’d be all for it - pretend it’s not A Thing You’re Doing and my creep-meter goes ping. Steven Shainberg’s ‘Secretary’ has a scene where the boss literally puts a saddle on his employee, and I find it to be one of the most genuinely moving romances I’ve ever seen. Love Actually makes me feel like Curtis is sending me a ‘u up?’ late night text about his secretary fantasy.

Anyway, I fucking hate this film, and not necessarily because of the content, but because of the context. The movie tells me to love it as aspirational romance. My culture tells me to love it as aspirational romance. Everyone tells me to love it as a varied and full exploration of reasons to get up in the morning, because it’s an aspirational romance. It makes me want to claw my own face off.

#replies #long post #ishipallthings #that kid in the octopus costume can't save it #look no judgement if you like it - whatever floats your stoat - but it's uhhhhh not for me

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daggerzine · 5 years ago

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Tony Potts of The Monochrome Set gives us the details! (interview by Steve Michener)

I started writing a weekly post on Facebook about two years ago, wherein I would pick a song from the extensive catalog of The Monochrome Set and write a few words, trying to hep people to their fantastic music. It became a fun, online conversation with friends and fans and the band would sometimes join in, adding to the story or correcting my (frequent) historical errors. I was presenting myself as a TMS scholar when I was really just a doofus with a love for the music. The FB feature eventually led to my volunteering to drive the band on the West Coast swing of their recent US tour, which was a total blast.

Recently, I came up with the idea of interviewing various members of the band and when I initially hit upon this plan, the first person I thought of was Tony Potts, their early ‘5th member.' Tony added another dimension to the band’s early shows by projecting films onto screens (and sometimes the band), helping to differentiate the band in the crowded post-punk music scene of the late 70s/early 80s England. I never personally saw any early TMS shows so I missed out on his contributions until last year when I attended the TMS 40th anniversary shows in London and got to experience his visuals along with the music (albeit from a laptop now instead of a Super 8 film). I’ve always been intrigued by his role with the group and he was nice enough to answer some of my email questions about the early days of the band, his art, and, of course, his favorite TMS song. Tony’s Facebook page is one of the most entertaining around; he doesn’t hold back much, whether it’s about his cancer diagnosis, politics, or the state of the Great Western Railroad. TMSF and now Dagger Zine present the Weird, Wild and Wonderful World of Tony Potts!

That’s Tony far right

Q: How did you come to be involved with the Monochrome Set? What drew you to them and them to you?

Ah, now there are two answers to this question. The first is terse and accurate, although less interesting than the second. Well, I knew John, J.D. Haney. That's the terse answer. However, in the interests of interest, and name-dropping, we have to travel back to about 1974. The story illustrates I think, how our lives are built upon great swaths of happenstance.

While studying on my pre-degree arts foundation I became close friends with Edwin, later Savage Pencil, who later still formed The Art Attacks. After some itinerant drummers, including Ricky Slaughter of The Motors, and Robert Gotobed of Wire, JD became the Art Attacks drummer. Now, Edwin didn't know him, so I can only guess, at this great distance, that I put his name forward. But again, we must spool back in time. How did I know John? After Edwin left for London, and still at my provincial art school, I became good friends with two fellow student artists like myself, Andy Palmer and Joy Haney. They both became founder members of Crass, under the names N A Palmer and Joy De Vivre, and are now exceptionally good fine artists.

It was through my friendship with Joy that I meet her brother, the aforementioned JD, when he came down from university in the summer of '76. We hung out with his college chum, Jean-Marie Carroll, later to join The Members, and discussed narrow neckties and casual trousers. Then Joy, Andy, and I went off to the Greek islands for the summer, before returning to London to take up our degree course at Chelsea School of Art.

Thus it was, with us all now in London, that I believe I introduced JD to The Art Attacks, with whom I worked until their demise, at which point JD took up with TMS. Due to mutual creative interests in art, I was invited to display my films at their gigs. That was late '78, with my first gig with the band being at Acklam Hall, Notting Hill, on 22nd February 1979. Thereafter we fell together and I started to make films specifically for the live shows. It’s worth pointing out that the TMS was not formed in an art school, or by art students. It is lazy journalism that perpetuates the Art School band epithet. Both Bid, the main song writing power behind the longevity of the band, and the other key lyricist, JD Haney, have never been anywhere near an art school.

Q: What were your films like? Who were your art-school influences at the time? What were you doing with the Art Attacks?

I was studying fine art painting, and painting was my main interest. Although I loved films, I never expected to move in that direction. As a painter, I was a devotee of the Russian Constructivists like Tatlin, but mostly the geometric forms of El Lissitzky, and the Suprematist Kazimir Malevich - best known for Black Square and White On White. My paintings were an amalgam of geometric forms in the vein of Lissitzky on grounds inspired by Malevich's painterly surfaces. With the rise of the Punk movement in London, I somewhat changed direction, moving into filmmaking that had a quasi-narrative style, intended to be more emotional and poetic. Although driven by what was happening in music during ‘76/'77/'78, ironically, my films couldn't be any less punk if I tried. Well, not to punks anyway. These days I regret that I never resuscitated my painting practice.

At the time of the Acklam Hall gig, I had made one large scale Super8, and two 16mm works. I think it must have been 'Strange Meeting', which in part was about aliens and The Red Army Faction murders, which we showed at that gig, but as a support. I had previously made some other 8mm films, and I might have used them during the band, but I can't recall. However, I now have vague memories of projecting B & W film over the whole stage and band. With The Art Attacks, I didn't have a creative role, I just supported the band in rehearsal and at gigs with Paul Humphries their manager, and the initial manager of TMS. Paul, JD and I all shared the same squat in Brailsford Road, Brixton. So, with TMS I had something more creative to do.

Q: For those of us who weren't able to see those shows, describe for us what you were doing with the films during the shows. How were the films received by the audience?

As I said, initially I used the films that I had made in another context, and they were added to the performance to create an overall ambiance, a statement of presentation that was not about a band energetically leaping about on stage, as was the order of the day. Soon I started to make Super8 material specifically for TMS performances. This included the scratched and bleached footage for 'Lester Leaps In', or images filmed on the road, like the Berlin footage used for ‘Viva Death Row’, or staged material of the band getting up to also sorts of antics, like the beach ball larks and bits of animations I would make with no specific aim. In the early days, I made two roller blind screens in long boxes, [we took them on the first two US tours] with one on either side of the stage as space allowed, with film projected onto them so the band members were often in silhouette, although it bled onto them also. The stage was very dark, lit by blue footlights, which I made. I think Mark Perry of Sniffing Glue/Alternative TV said something like it was the most brilliantly depressing thing he had seen. That was always the irony at that time, the music was pert and poppy and uplifting, but the show wasn't. What a laugh, we all thought.

The shows became increasingly more elaborate with more screens, more projectors and a theatrical lighting rig. At this time we were using Ground Control, Bowie's original PA, run by a lovely guy called Robin Mayhew. Using the theatre lights allowed me to focus and shape controlled beams of light exactly where I wanted them. For example, I could just illuminate Bid's face or other small areas with geometric shapes, while leaving the stage largely unlit. Then the film screens could glow and flicker in the dark. The lads tended not to move a great deal. A tradition assiduously upheld by Mr. Warren.

As to reception, well some people liked it, and others couldn't see the point. I think it mostly worked as a spectacle, an integrated whole, a total experience, but for those just into the music, it was probably irrelevant. I mean, they are a great band, so nobody missed me when I didn't set up, like at the M80. That stage was toooo big, man.

Bid and Tony

Q; As the 'Fifth Member' whose focus seemed to have been on the live performances, how did you fit in with the band in the recording studio?

Yes, my key role was the live performance; anything else was a bonus for me. I was at all recordings from the second Rough Trade single to the end of the second album, as an enthusiastic supporter and admirer. Of course, I chipped in with the odd suggestion or noise and was probably ignored where and when necessary. Being musically incompetent, my timing is off by a good margin so I'm not sure my handclaps ever made a final mix. You can hear me on TWWWWofTP. I've got quite a pleasant singing voice, also, just not in public. Bid once marked out the chord changes for Ici Les Enfants on a plastic organ I had, to fill out the live sound, but after the first chord change, I was lost and bewildered.

Q: You've done promotional videos for the band. Can you talk about a few of those projects? Do you have a favorite video?

The first promotional film I made was the one for Dindisc, and called Strange Boutique, not after the title of the first album as many think, but coincidentally, after the name of a pair of corduroy trousers! Actually, that may not be true. So, this was conceived as a short film, with two songs and a Rod Serling type piece to camera as a linking devise. Done on the very cheap. Unfortunately, there were syncing issues with some of the dialogue and the master got damaged, scratched, and I'm not sure if I still have the original film, or not. It's on our DVD as a complete piece as far as I remember, but it turns up on YouTube, usually cut down to either of the two songs LSD and Strange Boutique, without all the linking material.

We then waited a long time until I was commissioned by WEA to make the promo for 'Jacob's Ladder' with the release of 'The Lost Weekend' album. The deal was negotiated from a public phone box on Clapham Common tube station. It was somewhat compromised by cock-ups at WEA which meant I was forced to hand it over before it was fully edited to my satisfaction. I seem to have made a style out of technical imperfections; at least that's what I'm saying. At the time Top of the Pops had a video preview section, and a short clip of Jacob's Ladder was shown. That’s primetime TV, folks!

And then, of course, I was delighted when Bid asked me to make the official MaisieWorld video for ‘I Feel Fine’, which I was very pleased with. All these projects were very personal to me, not just the execution of a job, and the first two were part of my life at the time of making.

Q. The only footage I've seen of you actually playing with the band is the Old Grey Whistle Test TV spot. Was it common for you to join the band onstage?

Well, I was usually visible on stage, controlling the projectors, which needed constant manipulation, like a DJ scratching, changing speed and switching images, fading and mixing. Also, there might be some little set piece we had devised, which required me to do something. At one point, during the Ground Control days, I remember I had my own mic so I could interact with the stage, which didn't last that long. So, to some extent, I always had a relationship with the stage as both performer and technician. Once, when Lester Square had had enough, I did perform the encore, He's Frank, by incessantly plucking one string of his guitar. Pretty good, actually! Music and Maths very similar to my mind, no sooner do I believe that I have mastered the execution of some small calculation, but I soon discover that I haven't.

Don’t shake the ladder, Tony gettin’ down to work.

Q: Tell us about your film education and your career in film and video outside the band.

I made a living of sorts working commercially in film and video production, and teaching, but as I mentioned before, I actually trained in fine art. My art foundation took a very academic approach and involved copious hours of life drawing and other drawing classes, while being given time to develop one's own particular discipline and style.

I made one Super8 film based on geometric elements in my painting. I had made three other 8mm film before this. It wasn't until I was on my degree course that I started making more moving image work, but this stemmed from a fine art perspective, so I didn't ever have any film school type training. My own work I would categorise as poetic experimentalism, that is under the general umbrella of artist film and video. Just a reminder that you can catch up with lots more detail of everything I've said at my website, http://tonypottsloopform.altervista.org. Although it has all the history of the films and staging, as well as the making of Jacob's Ladder, it's rather old and not up-to-date. That site includes all the art projects I've worked on, the history of TMS film, and my own films. My creative life can be divided into three separate but overlapping strands. The first being, my personal practice as an artist/film maker, the second, my skills and knowledge deployed in the service of collective artworks and community arts projects, and those same skills employed commercially in film and video production and teaching.

Q: It's obvious from FB that you are a big film fan. Who are some of your favorite directors/favorite movies?

With a few exceptions, I'm not much interested in modern Hollywood, old Hollywood is better, and pre-Hays better still. My film tastes are somewhat esoteric for most folks. I prefer silent film, particularly that of the classic German period of the twenties, Lang, Murnau, Pabst, Dreyer. Then in the sixties, PP Pasolini, Robert Bresson, Akira Kurosawa, soviet era Tarkosky and Parajhanov, plus a host of even less well know eastern European directors like Miklos Jancso, Jan Nemec, or Frantisek Vlacil. Don't you wish you'd never asked?

Q. You live in Wales, pretty far away from the London of your youth. How did you end up there and what appeals to you living there?

Well, we split our time between London and Pembrokeshire at present, while my wife Rachael is still working. In a few years, we'll move out completely, I think. I can't relax in the city anymore. I need some more space to feel comfortable. I've had as much London as I can handle. Rachael is Welsh, although Pembrokeshire is known as little England beyond Wales, and we are fortunate to own her childhood home there.

Q. You were recently diagnosed with cancer and posted your experience on Facebook. How did you discover that you had cancer and how are you doing now?

Yes, that was unfortunate. The prostate gets larger as us men grow older and so puts a bit of pressure on the bladder, changing the way you take a pee, like urgency and frequency. So any chap of a certain age should cut along to a doctor if they have persistent symptoms of this type. Our neighbour in Wales insists on calling it prostrate cancer, but I refuse to take that lying down, and firmly pronounce it prostate, but to no avail. But seriously, although it's a slow-growing cancer, the sooner you act, the sooner you can get the appropriate treatment. I had to have surgery, but it's not necessary for everyone. As my cousin, who luck would have it is a cancer specialist said, do you want to be erect or dead? Haha, what a great choice!

Q: Since this is a TMSF, after all, can you pick a favorite song and say a few words about it?

My choice of song to end this pleasant excursion is 'The Devil Rides Out', from the 'Eligible Bachelors' album. By the time of recording this record JD had left the band and was living in NY, and I was also spending a great deal of time in that city also. I was still contributing to the occasional gig or short tour, but I certainly wasn't around when this album was recorded. Christ, what do you expect for a record made in Luton?

So it is the live performances of this song that I recall, since it was in the repertoire well ahead of it being recorded. Although I could say it of many other songs, the open chords of 'The Devil Rides Out' always gave me a buzz as I waited to play in whatever the film images were [I can't remember]. Even if the audience or critics found the films superfluous or unimportant, I usually enjoyed watching the way that a set of otherwise unrelated images somehow meshed and synchronised with the music and gave the illusion of a premeditated vision. Of course, it was premeditated in as much as I knew what pieces of film would be used for a particular song, but beyond that, there was a lot of slack in the system. With the various parameters of the live installation, having to follow the cue of the band and the hand manipulating the projectors [no computers], there were great possibilities that the extemporisation would result in entirely unique sets of images and sound on each occasion.

Well, I should say something about why I like the song. It's one of a number of Bid's more esoteric lyrical compositions. He had previously pushed the Latin boat out with Adeste Fideles [not everyone's favourite song title to pronounce], and my spell checker isn't too keen on the words, either. In this case, the bridging line is rendered in Latin, but with the exception of the 'Hails', this is written in the ancient language of Sanskrit. Or at least that is my understanding and belief. Whatever the lyrical origins are, this is a classic TMS arrangement, altogether thrilling, incomprehensible and mysterious, yet totally pop, totally accessible and it dumps from a very great height those chart-topping household names who have followed in their wake.

And of course, I can never resist a song that features a sleigh bell, The Devil Rides Out and The Stooges 'I Wanna Be Your Dog' being the two finest examples.

http://tonypottsloopform.altervista.org

www.themonochromeset.co.uk

www.tapeterecords.de

www.facebook.com/themonochromeset

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paladin-andric · 6 years ago

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Blackheart, Epilogue: Sunrise

The once-prince stood on the balcony of the castle that now belonged to him, and him alone. Beneath him, a massive crowd of his new subjects cheered and raised their fists in celebration.

Shortly after the end of the Palethorn Crisis, King Salign was informed of the death of Princess Clara, who had gone missing shortly after the fog first rolled in.

Apparently, she had left the castle and traveled to the city, intending on using her powers as a sorcerer to resolve the demon invasion. She was found dead in a cavern underneath the city, still in the robes she had left with.

The aging king seemingly lost the ability to take such news. He suffered a heart attack and quickly died soon after. Gira was off in the camps many of the survivors had made after fleeing the city, tending to the sick and wounded. She was unable to be reached in time to revive the king, his passing cause a greatly mixed reaction among the royals.

William was saddened. He had lost both a father and sister in rapid succession, but he kept a brave face. Still, he could not help but feel some hope, and joy at the proceedings. All those things he had criticized his father for, everything he had seen as wrong with what was happening to the kingdom...now, he had the power to fix those things, and there was a single, burning desire that overwhelmed all else.

He was dressed in the most regal and splendid robes available, the same his father had worn when coronated, though he had them custom tailored and fitted for him from scratch, of course.

At last the attendant finished the last of the proceedings, bringing this lengthy affair of stuffy atmosphere and winding speeches to a close. Finally, the bishop walked behind William, holding up the crown above his head, and slowly placing it on top of him.

There, with sharp eyes and an unflinching body, Prince William let the golden, glittering crown slide onto his head. In that moment, the coronation, formally at least, had come to an end.

“Long live King William, Sovereign of Geralthin and leader of all human peoples!”

The rapturous applause damn near deafened the now-king. All across the fields, as far as the eye could see, the people roared and cried out as the new ruler of Geralthin was entrusted with the task of leading them to peace and prosperity.

“Baldwin.”

The scribe nodded and stepped forward, handing a rolled up scroll to the king. This had been part of a plan on King William’s part before the coronation.

This was his most passionate issue he wished to address, and by performing such an extreme act on his coronation, he hoped to show everyone that no matter what happened, this reign would be nothing like the previous.

“People of Geralthin!” he cried loudly, the massive crowd below going silent, “I would like to present something to you.”

He unfurled the scroll and let it hang over the balcony, being sure to have it face the crowd.

“This...is the Expulsion Edict,” William explained, “It has banned all non-humans from our great kingdom, a kingdom of trade, of culture and hope. A kingdom of peace and brotherly love. A kingdom where any can come and share in our abundance and glory. This, has undone all of that. This edict has nearly destroyed our economy, our production, and the fabric of Geralthin culture as a whole. Therefore, my first act as king…”

He pulled it back and, in a quick motion, tore the scroll in half.

“I hereby repeal the Expulsion Edict! Henceforth, all are welcome to return to our glorious kingdom, as are the refugees of Palethorn, our very own citizens who we turned our backs on!”

The crowds erupted into cheers once again, celebrating wildly as the king continued ripping up the scroll.

The exile had torn apart friends, the church, even families in some cases. At last, the people would be reunited.

“Furthermore, I hereby announce the foundation of the Bureau of Reclamation! This new government body will work to undo the damage caused by the Expulsion Edict! They shall track down each citizen who either was forced into Palethorn or fled the nation. They shall attempt to regift land, possessions, titles and wealth to those who had such things stolen or confiscated from them. We’ll also be reopening diplomatic channels with our neighbors. Friends, citizens, those who spoke of the end times...Geralthin is just getting started!”

As he spoke these words, he tossed the shredded remains of the edict over the balcony, the ribbons of paper spreading out and being carried off by the wind.

“Long may Geralthin prosper! Long may the sun shine on our glorious nation, and its people!”

The crowd was feverous in their applause and cheers. With his job done, he turned to Baldwin and dropped his voice, so that only the other man could hear him.

“Begin an investigation on Salign.”

“Your majesty?”

“I told you, something happened to him. He changed suddenly, into someone unrecognizable from his old self. Something did that to him...and I will not rest until I find out what.”

“Yes sir, we will get underway immediately.”

As the king left the balcony, a figure among the crowds watched him go.

The black dragon stood vigil over the castle, having left her wing of the castle to watch the crowning of William.

A wide smile was spread across her face, the dragon feeling immense pride for the young king. She spoke softly, to no one in particular.

“Your majesty...you will go far. I can tell.”

...

“Oh Eignach!” a sing-songy voice called out.

The crowlike, jet black koutu shot up from his afternoon nap, eye wide as Razorwing strolled through the front door.

“Ah, you’re home!”

The hero dropped his bow and quiver at the door, shutting it and moving over to the couch. The would-be magician quickly got his talons off of the couch and scooted over, allowing the other koutu to sit down beside him.

Razorwing unfastened his cape and threw it over the back of the couch before sitting down himself.

“So how has my dear Eignach been?” he spoke teasingly, shooting the younger man a playful grin.

“Oh, wonderful!” the crow responded cheerfully, “I practiced using thunder a lot today. I’m getting good at it, I think!”

“Ah, that’s marvelous. Keep it up, my dear…” Razorwing wrapped a wing around Eignach and smiled wistfully. “Ahh...it’s so lovely to be home again, away from all the horrors, and with you...”

“O-oh, well...it’s great to have you back, Razorwing...I missed you a lot.”

“As I missed you. Heartache and homesickness are difficult to ignore on the field, but the knowledge that I could return once it was over kept me going.”

“Hah! To think you struggled with such things and won against the demons anyway! You really are the greatest hero of all time!”

Razorwing chuckled, pulling Eignach closer. “Oho! Say now, Eignach...we should have another day out, like when I returned.”

“Oh, really?! That’d be great! Treating me to such cuisine...you spoil me, you know!”

“Nonsense! We spoil each other.” The pair laughed, sitting warmly on the couch, the worries of the outside world forgotten to them for now.

Eignach’s eyes widened, the magician suddenly shooting out of Razorwing’s hold and speaking in a hurried manner.

“Oh! I completely forgot! You got a letter today!”

“I did? Hmm...not more fan letters, I hope.”

“N-no, I don’t think so. I-I mean, I didn’t read it of course, I’d never invade your privacy like that! I just mean...the seal…”

He hurried back from the kitchen, handing Razorwing the folded letter. Eignach was right. The seal was in the shape of a royal crest, an eagle with its wings splayed out and its head turned to the side.

“Hmm...I think I’ve seen this before,” Razorwing noted, breaking the seal. As he opened the letter and began to read it, his eyes widened.

“Is...is it bad?” Eignach asked nervously. Razorwing didn’t respond until he finished reading, folding up the note a giving the other bird a warm expression.

“Hey, Eignach...how would you like to meet some dear friends of mine?”

The young magician perked up, smiling widely. “Oh, I’d love that! Who are we meeting?”

The hero’s smile grew mischievous. “Oh, just a few business partners…”

…

Paul stood in the dark corner of the tavern, having been drawn to it by the announcement.

He’d been keeping up to date on his new friend, who was always off performing or the like.

The reintegration of the beastmen had been going surprisingly smoothly, and despite managing to pick up a few bounties, Paul found himself without much to do.

Thus, he often went to see Razorwing whenever he was on tour.

The current tavern was at the Western border of Geralthin, at the edge of the nation and directly next to the Koutu Kingdom. The tavern itself was quite large and well-off, and packed full of patrons, mainly humans but with a fair amount of koutu among them as well.

It was with very little fanfare that Razorwing marched up to the stage, people noticing and bursting into applause. Very much unlike him, Paul noted.

The hero held his hands up, signaling the crowd to quiet down. They did so, and he spoke to them in turn.

“Thank you for coming, everyone! The show isn’t on just yet! I need to do something, give me but a minute and I’ll be back, then we can begin!”

The koutu ran off the stage and out the back, sparing a moment to eye Paul. The bounty hunter crossed his arms and glared at the now empty stage.

What’s he up to?

It was such a strange thing, to say “wait a minute”, instead of just showing up a minute later. One would think he simply-

“Heya!”

The human tensed up and whirled around, who was talking to him?! He was in the corner!

As he faced the wall he was standing against, he saw Razorwing poking his head through the window behind him, smiling wide.

“The hell is this, bird?!” he whispered harshly.

“Special delivery!” the hero spoke quietly, holding out a folded letter and winking. Paul hesitated for only a moment before snatching it and giving the bird a funny look. Razorwing then ducked out of the window, and Paul was alone again.

He looked around and stuffed it in his pocket, tapping his fingers along his shoulders nervously. After a few more moments, Razorwing came back in through the other side, stepping back onto the stage.

“Sorry about that, and thank you for waiting! Let’s get started! This tale comes from my journey into the city wrapped in shadow…”

Paul tuned out. He had been there, too. Nothing he didn’t already know. He made his way to an empty table and took out the letter, glancing over his shoulders before opening it and reading.

His brows raised as he read the letter. It was originally intended for Razorwing, but had a note at the bottom about tracking down “Crux” and letting him know, too.

Hmm...the bird and I have some things to discuss once his little show is over…

…

The party was sitting around, making some small talk. It had only really just gotten underway when they spotted two birdmen in the sky, both landing right in front of the group.

“Ah, Razorwing, welcome! Who’s your friend?”

The hero was about to introduce the group to him when he suddenly called out.

“Oh my goodness! It’s you!”

Eignach ran over to the cleric, eyes wide. The woman in turn looked at him with shock.

“Is that...birdbrain?!”

The crow and woman ran up and hugged one another, Leianna holding him in a vice.

“Oh my God! How have ya been, Eignach?!”

“Oh, wonderful! Everything’s been perfect thanks to you!”

Alexander frowned. “You two know each other?”

“First I’m hearing of it,” Razorwing said quietly.

“I-it’s her, Razorwing, remember?! The woman who saved me, who brought me to the koutu?!”

The archer’s eyes widened. “Leianna...YOU were the woman that helped him escape the witchhunt?!”

The cleric grinned and let go of the smaller man, patting him on the shoulder. “What can I say? He looked so helpless, what else was I supposed to do?”

Eignach bounced with excitement as Razorwing scratched his chin, a bemused expression on his face. “Incredible. To think I was working alongside the savior of my beloved Eignach all this time, without even knowing...why, we might have never even met if it wasn’t for you!”

“If you ever have a Geralthin wedding, I could give the rites.” Leianna winked.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea!” Razorwing laughed. “Wow...still, amazing. Small world, it is...”

...

The footsteps of a lone figure brought forth enough attention to pull the group away from their conversation.

Outside of a large, impressive countryside manor, a large group of people sat around a wooden table, a stone pathway leading from the yard back to the manor.

There, all of them sat, talking and laughing. Alexander. Senci. Lexius. Leianna. Razorwing. Charles. Wurie. Andric. All of them. There were even a few folks Crux struggled to recognize with them.

Most of them wore far different clothes from when the man had seen them last. Alexander, rather than his suit of armor, was in an expensive, regal-looking outfit of cloth and silk, dyed blue. A black cape topped off the ensemble. Leianna and Lexius wore church robes, and Andric and Wurie wore fairly formal, though unembellished clothes. Senci wore just a tunic and pants, light brown and inexpensive.

Charles and Razorwing were wearing the same old robes and hero getup they had been wearing before.

At least he’s not wearing that stupid hat...

Behind the group, still in the yard, were three dragons. Basilrin, Aurelio and Tourthun. They all sat in a group, discussing things among each other while the rest of the guests at the table reminisced.

The knight turned, smiling and waving. “Hey, Crux! There he is!”

“I TOLD you he’d show up!” Razorwing said with a smirk.

“I uh, got your message,” the bounty hunter said, taking out the letter and tossing it on the table.

“Glad to hear it,” the knight answered, “Well...welcome to Rosehall Manor! There’s plenty of food and drink to go around, if you want!”

“It has been a long journey…”

Paul sat down and joined them in their meal, eating meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. Water, ale and other assortments of drinks were passed around as well, The group’s cheeriness increasing as a result.

“I can’t believe you roped the dragons into a cookout,” Paul said with a shake of his head.

Alexander shrugged. “They’ve been quite chummy with the people of Geralthin! Wasn’t hard to track them down.”

“Still...to think you have dragons as guests at your home.”

The knight laughed. “Yeah, not exactly something I imagined would ever happen, but here we are! So...what have you been up to, Crux? No one’s heard a peep from you since the Crisis! Aside from Razorwing, of course.”

Paul shrugged. “Same old, same old. Nothing’s changed that much.”

“Ah. Well, there’s comfort in familiarity, at least! I’ve been getting summons to courts all the damn time, but otherwise, things are well here. Anyone else? What about you, Senci?”

“Ooh, I moved back in with Master Andric!” the kobold exclaimed excitedly, “And Vok came back too! Lannis is wonderful, isn’t it, Vok?!”

“You bet it is!” the lizard said with a joyful laugh, “You’re damn lucky you got to live there, both of ya! I’ve never been one for a quiet, peaceful pace, but I’ve been missing out! God, I think I might just build my own cottage and stay!”

“Ooh, I can help! You can help too, right Andric?!”

The paladin shrugged. “If it ever comes to that...I’d be happy to help.”

“Ehehe, of course you would! Tis the sort of man you are!” Vok cried, raising his glass.

“Hey, captain.” Paul shot the wolf a questioning look. “Palethorn still hasn’t been resettled. What’re you up to, now that you’re not in the guard anymore?”

“Didn’t you hear?!” Wurie said with a grin, “We folk got all our titles and rights back! I’m the leader of the Silver Swords once again!”

“The Silver Swords? The mercenary group?”

“That’s right! We, uh...we lost a lot of men during the rebellion...but we’re rebuilding, and soon we’re gonna be journeying through the lands fightin’ beasts and helpin’ folks out once more! You’ll see!”

“Good to hear!” Leianna enthused, “More the reason to celebrate!”

Razorwing shot Charles a smile. “How about you, friend? Have things been going well for you as well?”

The dragonoid looked giddy as he answered. “Ah, it’s been wonderful! I got to come home and spend time with my father again, and the old university’s been under restoration! With Palethorn’s college being defunct, they were happy to transfer my final years of schooling over to them, so now St. Christine’s is offering me free studies and meetings with sorcerers and wizards from all over! Things are looking up!”

“I see...that’s great!”

“Oh, and Professor Parsib forwarded those notes we found! Everyone knows about Laurence now, and him and I have been hailed for our efforts in cracking the case of the Crisis!”

“Good. I’m glad people found out,” Alexander said, arms crossed.

Eignach poked Charles in the shoulder. “H-hey, do you think you could...teach me sometime? I-I’ve always wanted to be a sorcerer, but I’m not very good...”

The half-dragon smiled, and put a clawed hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Everyone can be great if they try!”

“I’ve been trying really hard, but the books are really hard to understand...”

“You don’t have a tutor? Schooling?”

“No sir, I’ve been teaching myself.”

Charles laughed. “Well there’s your problem! Why do you think there’s entire collages dedicated to teaching magic? Trying to pick up a book and just become a master wizard yourself is nuts!”

“Oh.”

The dragonoid patted the koutu on the shoulder. “Hey, a friend of Razorwing is a friend of mine! I’d be happy to tutor you!”

The crow’s eyes lit up. “R-really?!”

“Sure! Why don’t I give you my father’s address? We could arrange a few sessions sometime! No payment necessary!”

“O-oh...thank you so much, sir...”

“Hey, can I get a refill over here?! I’ve been dry for ages!” Leianna shouted, the group breaking into laughter as Alexander slid her the pitcher.

This gathering went on for several hours, everyone sharing stories and catching up with each other.

As the hours stretched on, and the party began to wind down, Alexander got out of his chair and looked around the table.

“Alright everyone, I’d say since the sun’s going to be setting soon, we should wrap this up. However, before you all go...I have one final thing I wanted to do. It’s a gift. Not for any of you, but if you want to come with me to see it, you’re more than welcome. I think he’d appreciate that.”

“He? Who?” Senci scratched his head.

The knight smiled, turning to the side and raising his voice. “Hey, Tourthun!”

The three dragons broke from their conversation, the green dragons watching as Tourthun stepped forward. “Ah, yes Alexander? What is it?”

“I have a surprise for you. Would you like to come see it?”

The red dragon tilted his head. “Why, how could I say no? I am quite curious...what is this surprise?”

“Wouldn’t be one if I told you,” the knight said with a grin.

“Ah. That is true. Well...please show me!”

“Right this way...it’s just a short trip up the road.”

The group left the knight’s estate, though a few of them were a bit hesitant. A trip? Where were they going? What for? What did this gift entail?

It was an hour by stagecoach, which Alexander had on hand. One of the perks of being of noble blood, it seemed. The group all chattered and spoke in the coach while the dragons trailed them, and though several of them questioned what was going on, Alexander wouldn’t budge on the matter.

When they finally reached their destination, they were surprised to see that they had gotten out...on road, in the middle of nowhere. Even more questions and confusion arose as Alexander led everyone into the woods. No matter how desperate the questioning got, he assured them it was worth it.

After twenty minutes of what could almost be called hiking, the group at last entered a large, empty clearing, with a mountain in the far distance. Tourthun, Aurelio and Basilrin all come landing down as they spotted the group again.

Tourthun looked confused as he stared at the clearing. “Alexander…? Did you...take me to…”

“Yeah.” His words were low. “I did some digging and found out that this was...where you lived, before all of that.”

The red dragon frowned. “I...why did you bring me here? There are...many painful memories here, that I have been trying to forget.”

“Because I have a gift for you. Your parents...their bones were simply lying where they had fallen. I...want you to see something. Something that took a lot of pulled strings to do.”

“I...suppose...if you wish…”

The group passed yet another patch of forest, until at last they entered their final destination on this journey...a valley, with the mountain beside it. This valley of verdant green and quiet serenity was just as the dragon had remembered it...with one big exception.

Tamis had covered the bones of his love with foliage, to prevent both his son and himself from having to gaze upon the remains of such close family. That collection of grass, leaves and other coverings were gone, and in the place of it…

A large mound of earth jutted out of the flat middle of the valley, and at the end of it...something that truly struck awe into the dragon’s heart.

A large, gorgeously crafted and carefully made statue was placed before the mound...a statue of two dragons sitting and facing one another, necks craned and heads lowered. Their heads touched, and necks shaped to form a heart between their bodies.

Below the statue, an epitaph on a bronze plaque:

In memory of Tamis and Artoria, inseparable in both life and death. Harbingers of salvation, parents to Tourthun, the savior of all life. May the two rest in peace and joy for all eternity, and continue to watch over this most blessed land.

“I may be gone from this world, but I will always be above, watching you.”

Tourthun was frozen, eye wide as he looked at the sight before him.

“A-Alexander…”

“We buried them here, Tourthun, so that they might find peace...and then I got the kingdom to build this for you.”

There was a long pause as everyone drank it in.

“I...I hope this brings you some comfort, Tourthun. I know it’s not much, but-”

“It is perfect.”

The knight smiled. “I’m...glad to hear that.”

The dragon sighed, breath shaking. “This...to think they would be given such honors...it is indescribable.”

Tourthun’s rose to the sky, tears running down his face.

“Thank you, Alexander, hero and friend. Long may the sun shine upon you and your house.”

As the dragon both appreciated and mourned, the scratchy voice of Senci called out.

“H-hey...Aurelio’s gone.”

Everyone turned and, true to his word, the larger of the green dragons was indeed gone. Only Basilrin remained, looking around in confusion.

“Huh? How did he slip away so silently…” his son wondered. Alexander put his hands on his hips.

“I think the guilt was a bit much for him. Perhaps I should have warned him…”

“Nevermind that,” Andric interrupted, “Tourthun...just take a bit of time to tune everything else now. For the moment, just enjoy this ode to your family, the knowledge that everyone knows the sacrifices they made for you, and the comfort that no matter what’s happened, you have people that care about you, and all of your troubles.”

Tourthun nodded, tears still flowing down him and onto the ground. “I will never forget the kindness you have blessed me with. The kindness I did not earn. The kindness that has changed me forever. I...I will always be willing to help you, in any way I can…”

As he sat there, bathing in his emotions, he recalled something. Words spoken to him, when he was just a baby. Words he shouldn’t have remembered due to being freshly hatched, but that he could, somehow, remember anyway. He heard the voice in his head, the soft words spoken to him on the fateful day of his mother’s end.

“Everything will be okay…do not worry, little Tourthun…father will protect you…he will always protect you…always look out for you…no matter what happens…I will protect you…I promise…all the cruel and wicked beasts in the world could not hurt you…even once I am gone, I will watch over you, as a guardian angel would…I promise…”

The dragon smiled again. They were watching him. He knew that much. He had a family patiently waiting in paradise. In the meanwhile, in this world...his friends stood by his side.

“Hope...is a powerful thing, is it not?”

Alexander frowned. “Tourthun?”

“Were it not for your hope, the world would still be an endless abyss. Were it not for your hope, none of us would be here right now. Were it not for your hope...I would have been lost to darkness forever.”

The knight nodded. “Yeah...it’s powerful.”

“I see now. Hope is the key. No matter what trials we may face, no matter how dark things become...we must never give up hope. Even in despair, we must grasp onto hope, no matter how faint. We must keep going, for if we do not...we may never see that light again.”

The others were all silent as Tourthun gazed at the statue of his parents, eyes closing as he silently vowed to make them proud.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“It’s been an honor,” Alexander answered.

The dragon’s gaze turned upwards one last time, gazing at the bright sky, at that sun he had gone without seeing for so long.

“The sun has risen, and its light touches us all.”

Beginning | Previous | END

This is it, everyone! This is the end of Blackheart. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. All I know is that it’s finally over, and I couldn’t be happier to finally be able to tell my story. Thank you, everyone, who stuck through it for all this time. I’ll never forget the feedback, the kind words, the people that were always there. I hope to redraft this and release it physically sometime, and to those who have been made it all this way...I thank you. I’m not sure I could have finished this without the encouragement. It’s been a pleasure.

This might be the end of Blackheart, but it isn’t the end of me! I’ll still be here, and with this finished, I might be short on things to do. If you have any story requests, or questions of any kind, I’d be happy to answer them for you.

Until next time, friends.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @disheveledcorvid, @reya-writes, @bexminx

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theinquisitivej · 6 years ago

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SteamHeart Episodes 9 & 10 Reactions

It’s been a while, but we’re here – this is SteamHeart.

Whether you’re a newcomer or a long-time fan of the alternate history fictional series New Century, there’s a lot to be excited about when it comes to this new entry. SteamHeart is a grand road trip narrative that follows a group of charming and capable characters embarking on a mission of utmost importance. It’s set in the late 19th Century in the Reunified States of America, a country that has just barely come back from the brink of total disintegration after being confronted with the Wendigo, a devastating and savage new species of uncertain origin.

That’s the set-up, and while there’s a few extra details from the preceding New Century stories that will doubtless come up in SteamHeart as it progresses, that’s all anyone really needs to know before jumping into this new story. It may be the instalment that closes out the first phase of this overarching narrative, but SteamHeart is very considerate towards newcomers. Relistening to the first eight chapters of the audiobook through the podcast, I found that everything you need to know about the setup of this world and the pasts of all the key characters is given to you in a way you can easily digest if it’s all new. Not too much is thrown at you all at once, and the personality of the different characters narrating all of this always comes across, meaning that you not only know who they are straight away, but you also have a compelling way to find out all this information. You will not be at a disadvantage if you’ve never heard of New Century and start listening to SteamHeart.

But, if you are curious to know more about what this story is, and what the first eight episodes are about, then I have a list of writeups you can check out if you want to take a deep dive into one of the best alternate history fantasy series out there. If appealing characters, the steampunk aesthetic, Westerns, huge anthropomorphic badass purple tigers, nail-biting human drama, survival horror/action against savage and fascinating beasts, or decent writing in general is up your alley, start listening to SteamHeart here, and then read the following articles to get you all caught up on where we were when we last left off on this story.

Since these chapters were originally published in a slightly different order before the definitive edition of Secret Rooms was a thing, the titles of these articles may not reflect how they are currently ordered or titled in SteamHeart.

‘Chapter One: The Fall’, ‘Chapter Two: Sharpshooters’, and ‘Chapter Three: Last Survivor’

‘Chapter Four: The Subtle Engineer’, ‘Chapter Five: The Starlit Eyes’, and ‘Chapter Six: The Shadow in the South’

‘Chapter Seven: Return of the Hunter’ and ‘Chapter Eight: Armor’

So, after finishing Let Them Go, reexperiencing Secret Rooms in its best form, we have returned to SteamHeart. We’re back in – Let’s ride.

Chapter Nine: Eight Dresses

You can listen to the episode here.

Preparations are underway for the ball that will introduce Team Steam, the new name for the group going on this expedition, to the general public. We get a brief discussion on the stifling world of formal women’s fashion of the time period. Despite the Reunified States being an even harsher place to live than the America of our world in the 19th Century, keeping up appearances is evidently still a necessary duty for anyone dealing in politics or public engagement. There may only be one dress maker left in Washington, but their services are nevertheless still required, so society hasn’t entirely moved past unnecessary decadence. The whole thing seems ridiculous and uncomfortable to Abigail. She reflects on the excessive and dangerous lengths people go to in order to put together a finished ballroom dress, and when she’s pushed into the pink monstrosity and the suffocatingly tight orange dress, this insane world of fashion and Abigail seem incompatible with one another. It’s cathartic to see her rip the orange dress and talk about buying and burning the shop down once she returns from the mission a rich and famous hero. Still, Abigail is aware that the mood has changed after she vents her frustrations, noting that whatever playful levity had been there had been sapped away by her behaviour. There’s no dramatic altercation, but the development of the scene does echo those moments in life where spirits flare up and all of a sudden the easy-going atmosphere of the situation has dissipated without our meaning it to.

We move on to a scene with some really solid characterisation of Annie and a wonderful moment shared between her and her husband Frank Butler. Annie is still turning over in her head the weight of responsibility that has been put on her by Director Arlington. She has been given a direct order to execute her charge if the situation calls for it, and the possibility of that scenario coming to pass is messing her sense of surety in her own judgement. She has no idea what tiny decision might set off a chain of events that means she has to make that call, and that much anxiety would make anyone susceptible to indecision. It could explain why Annie seemed particularly upset in the previous scene when Abigail was being deliberately difficult with Truth; Annie doesn’t want Abigail to be butting heads, because one day that could reach a point where the two of them will fall out to such an extent that Annie will either not be able to make a clearly thought out decision, not be able to properly protect Abigail, or even be forced to follow her orders and execute her. Annie made a promise to Katherine Holloway to look after James and Abigail, and she must be feeling torn up inside to know that she may one day have to break her promise in the worst possible way.

But bless Frank, he lifts the situation up in just the right way. Giving Annie the dress and the means for her to make all the changes she actually wants for her very own dress shows just how well he knows her. Frank knows that Annie can sew, he knows what kind of dress she would want, and he knows that having something she can work on and control right now will do her the world of good when so many things feel out of control. The performances of Laureta Sela and Spencer Leeb do hit just the right tone of tenderness and genuine joy that their respective characters feel when they’re in each other’s company. Seeing this perfect moment that these two people who love each other get to enjoy is profoundly touching. Don’t you dare harm them Alex, I know you’re thinking about it. AH- DON’T.

We transition to another tender moment of a husband and wife enjoying a secluded minute to themselves as Sarah and Thomas Arlington get ready for the ball. Sarah recalls the effort that she, Truth, and Harry had gone through to reconvince Thomas that it makes the most sense for Harry to go on the mission with the others, even if his paternal protectiveness and general wariness of danger on all sides makes this a difficult decision for him. We see Thomas exhibit his characteristic mistrust of the world when he lays Sarah’s bullet proof jacket on the bed, asking her to wear it as a precaution and a favour to him. If Thomas had it his way, he would enclose himself and the people that matter to him in the most airtight, perfect suit of armour he could find. The events of Arlington make it easy to see why he feels this way.

But Sarah isn’t Thomas, and his gesture presents her with a dilemma that she has to seriously consider. Wearing the armour is a statement, and even if its disguise as a civilian jacket means that very few people will realise she’s making it, she has to decide if she’s comfortable knowing that she chose to make that statement. Sarah wants to trust people – it’s an elemental part of who she is, as represented by Sarah’s remark after her mind goes to the many outfits in her wardrobe, as she says “not all of which went with this jacket of mine”. This jacket is a part of her wardrobe, but it’s not compatible with every outfit she would normally wear, and I would argue it’s not entirely compatible with who she wants to be. This time, she resigns herself to wearing the armour, but she resolves with a strong determination that she will step outside without armour another day. It’s a small decision that provokes an introspective moment that explores meaningful questions of trust and our unspoken interactions with the rest of the world. And yes, it does have a profound resonance for those who have a strong attachment to Arlington.

The epilogue of this episode tells us that Truth fantasised as a child that she would grow up to be Queen of America. It’s a cute fact about Truth’s childhood that provides a small glimpse into a more playful side of her character. It also provides context as to why she has such a head for politics and public engagement. She’s played with the idea of leading a nation her whole life, and the fact that the childhood version of her wanted to be Queen of a monarch-less country is indicative of a romanticised vision of what a leader could and should be. It’s a surprising thing to learn about the pragmatic, more calculating version of her that we know.

Chapter Ten: The April Ball

You can listen to the episode here.

I love those episodes or chapters of ongoing fiction where we get to see the main characters go to a party. Cutting between different individuals or pairings to see how the different personalities are handling themselves in an environment we don’t usually get to see them in can be a source of memorable humour and especially enjoyable character moments. It can also lead to some meaningful moments of introspection that can come out in a unique way; sometimes there are those strange, lucid moments that sneak up on you when you’re at a party where you suddenly become very reflective or melancholy. It doesn’t always have to be a party either. ‘The Ember Island Players’ is one of my favourite episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender because it’s a respite for the main group right before things are going to get more intense than they ever have before, so it’s a chance for both the characters and the writers of the show to have a little bit of fun before they close out their journey. I bring this up because I get a little bit of a sense of that with ‘Chapter Ten: The April Ball’, especially due to its name which suggests the ball is a spring-time event, a season of vitality and optimism when things are on the up and up. Team Steam is going to be heading out on a grand journey that will be full of perils, so it makes sense both within the context of the story and from a structural point of view to have this ball where we get to see our characters at a party.

Having said that, it’s not a fun filled jubilant occasion for everyone. Raven’s opening narration catches new readers up on the current state of class divisions in the Reunified States, going over how, when the Wendigo was at the doors of the people of America, high social standings didn’t do much to help you out, and they certainly didn’t give you a lot of skills to fall back on when you were part of little pockets of survivors and had to find a way to contribute to the group. A large percentage of the upper class didn’t make it. Even so, this ball has brought out the last remnants of that world, along with those who have risen up and established themselves at the top of the ladder in this new society. The atmosphere is hardly convivial, and several members of the main cast don’t appear to be at ease in this setting. Abigail feels out of place and sees James, who looks completely right for the occasion, as her lifeline, but is denied this when they’re separated. Harry finds that there’s a little too much information to take in, managing to stay afloat when James, sympathetic to her feelings in this situation, walks her through the steps (both for the dance and how to get by when surrounded by this many people). Most heart-breaking of all, Jeremy and Donald have been partnered with other people and, for all-intents-and-purposes, have been forbidden by Truth to dance together or show any signs that they’re a couple. It’s painful to hear about Jeremy putting on a smile while barely keeping back his tears. The injustice of society working against people being with who they love if it doesn’t fit their standards is eloquently summarised by Harry’s remark “it’s such a shame they won’t let us dance with who we really want to”. A perfect summation of denied love. Even Truth, who has an eye for navigating her way through these parties, addresses the fact that this is not a place for our characters to relax. She briefs the other female members of the group on their approach, telling them that they’re here to make connections and work on making the best impression of the group and the mission they can – “There’s a time for fun and games, and it’s not at parties”. The mood of this episode is playful at times, and there are moments where you’re happy for this chance to rest before things get dangerous. But it also shows why these settings can be a source of anxiety, and why putting on a show for the world can be soul crushing.

One of the most intense scenes at the ball is when Abigail dances with Arlington. Hearing her thoughts as she struggles to get a read on him shows how striking the effect he has on people is. He has a quiet fire that is frightening and magnetic all at once. Abigail even confesses that she sees many of the qualities in him that attracts her to James. The two men do share a calculating disposition that values logic which seems cold at first, but it hides a passionate resolve that flares to the surface when it counts. Arlington moves with a stoic surety that compels Abigail to follow his steps as they dance, which acts as a poetic metaphor of his approach to politics and his efforts to lead this country. For the time being, Arlington is leading this dance, and the country, in a way which seems correct and will likely get them through to the end of all this. But he and Abigail talk of the desire to deliberately put a foot wrong, just to see what will happen. Arlington is conducting himself exactly as he knows he should, but there is a part of him that wants so badly to kick the table over and meet the people he sees as enemies on his terms. When Abigail asks how long they can continue this dance, he answers “as long as we can” with sad, tired resignation. I find Arlington to be one of the most fascinating characters in all of New Century.

There are so many pieces of great writing and enjoyable character moments peppered throughout this chapter, so to finish off I’ll quickly go through some of my favourite bits. Abigail noticing Thomas and Sarah Arlington’s armoured jackets and wondering what they expect to happen and feeling worried is a decent payoff to the end of the previous episode when Sarah deliberated over whether to wear the jacket or not, showing us that she was right to think about the message such an action conveys. The footman announcing each of the main characters and his occasional embarrassment and frustration at being interrupted is a fun to watch, and Abigail’s commentary on how each person is received and how they conduct themselves speaks volumes of their different characters. When James and Abigail share a mischievous laugh together afterwards, it’s absolutely adorable. I ship it. Later, Abigail meets the blusterous buffoon Dutch Van Tassel, and she describes him as having “a great big bushy beard”. Now, this might just be a result of having watched this film a dozen or so too many times, but hearing that statement makes me wonder if that’s intended to be a reference to Hot Fuzz. Abigail gets bailed out from her conversation with Dutch by- oh sweet, it’s Li! She was a cool addition to the cast in Arlington, and I’m definitely glad to have her quiet, steely temperament back. Annie and Frank have the good fortune to be able to dance with the person they love and openly display that connection to the world, but they’re also compassionate enough to help those who aren’t having as great a time. I’m glad that Annie helps Jeremy get close to Donald, and when Frank speculates that Harry has feelings for James it did make sense, as I had similar suspicions. I continue to enjoy Frank and Harry’s relationship, as he’s a good friend to her and knows just how to word things. I’m pleased that Abigail gets to meet Nathanial Curtis and that she gets along with him. He’s an accomplished and immensely respectable man who nevertheless has the humble nobility of an old friendly soldier, so it’s no wonder that Abigail likes him immediately, especially with her father being a soldier as well. The episode and the party conclude with Abigail stepping outside for some air and meeting Raven, and his honesty is refreshing, even if his attitude means he isn’t the smoothest conversationalist. The instruments finish playing their music, and the applause signals the end of the episode.

I do love a party.

Chapter Ten’s epilogue tells us that Thomas and Sarah have twelve days left, referring to the closing events of Arlington. But I have to wonder whether the wording means that the significance of the statement is that they each have twelve days left, or that they have twelve days left of being together. Either way, it’s an immensely sad thought.

#The Inquisitive J #review #critic #narrative #narrative analysis #fiction #audiobook #audio drama #fictional podcast #books #alternate universe #alternate history #alternate history fiction #new century #new century multiverse #the new century multiverse #steamheart #the inquisitive j reviews

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4nime6-blog · 6 years ago

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Cool Hip Anime!

youtube

Anime

Large sparkling eyes, brightly coloured frizzy hair, obscure nose and high facial expression reminds us connected with only one factor.

Anime

Can you do you know what the item is?

If your response is actually Anime, then STOP, to see an otaku's brain!

Cartoons (pronounced: "Ah-nee-may") will be a form of animation typically from Okazaki, japan. They have got their own style this means you will show that in peculiar and wonderful ways. Cartoons also has its very own sense associated with comedy along with has a unique thought processes. It can get actually strong and serious, as well as it could truly be silliest (like: "Lucky Star", "Kill Me Baby") in addition to craziest (like: "Death Note", "Gintama") thing a person have ever before seen. Many Anime demonstrates are centered on popular mangas (Japanese Comics), just putting any not much more life into these people. Cartoons often covers far more serious issues than normal cartoons. In the united states, cartoons tend to be considered a form regarding enjoyment meant for youngsters. In Okazaki , japan, people involving all ages (no, not necessarily newborn babies! ) see anime. Most shows and flicks are centred for youngsters, teenager or young older people, but you can also get many cartoons that are made with regard to older crowd even business people and housewives!

The phrase "Anime" is the close pronunciation connected with "animation" within Japanese, exactly where this expression references just about all animation. Outside the house Japan, cartoons is applied to refer specifically toon from Japan or Western disseminated animation style usually characterized by colourful visuals, attractive characters and fantastical designs. Japanese animation commenced inside 20th century. Katsudo Shashin is claimed for you to be the first Japan animation. The 1923 Fantastic Kanto earthquake triggered wide-spread destruction including demolition associated with earliest Anime Companies as well as anime works; departing Kouchi's Namakura Gatana because the most well-known surviving animation. The 1st cartoons television series was Otogi Manga Calendar aired by 1961 to 1964.

This introduction to anime ended up being in category four while I watched "City Hunter" in a T. Sixth v. channel, Animax. Though I could see anime (as a make a difference of fact the particular multiple of anime is usually anime) like "Doraemon", "Shinchan", "Avatar-The last airbender", "Summer Days and nights with Coo", "AstroBoy", "Dragon Ball-Z", "Naruto" in the past just before yet I did definitely not recognize the profound perception regarding anime as this was dubbed throughout Hindi (rather I would point out "contaminated" instead of "dubbed" by means of old, ridiculous man noises in Hindi who also would break unnecessary, slap-stick jokes deviating viewers through the plot and also terrain you in a hotch-potch of indianised anime). My very own sister ( three yrs young than me even though I actually refuse to confess she is older when compared with me) took weird curiosity in Japanese anime similar to " Tears to Tiara" and "Stigma of typically the Wind" aired in Animax: that we thought strange from that time while the "patriotic inertia" will stop me from receiving something but Indian products. I got first repelled by often the proven fact that all the words casts have been in Japoneses and to understand history I had to consider difficulty of reading the actual Subtitles in english and had to help correlate the particular speech using the video proven; regarding which great deal involving attention seemed to be required. That was impossible personally in order to do both those exhaustion tasks at the very same time, so I delivered to my old Capital t. V. channels: Cartoon Community, Nickolodeans, Hungama, Pogo, Come back and Jetix.

After some sort of very long hiatus, in type seven, My spouse and i again started out experimenting our skills with understanding anime which often converted out to be a new success, when I 1st delighted in anime including "Hayate the Combat Butler" along with "Fairy Tail". Also! This kind of sweet poison! Following a total hectic day time in school, expenses, floating around classes, art in addition to audio classes, and full various other heck lot of routines; I waited only to be able to settle-back and relax for you to watch these kinds of anime. From that time, nothing was of importance to me; not also my parents, close friends as well as teachers. In that online realms of pleasure My partner and i could equipment my failures and sufferings as effortlessly as I got obtained in successes. Nothing irritated me, except when We were required to attend phone telephone calls or to wide open entrance, if any guests will come when the anime indicates were ongoing. However, cartoons hardly did affect this studies as after seeing two hour long plan, I suffered from PARTS (Post Anime Depression Syndrome) that I suffered typically the sense of guilt of wasting moment that has been more intensified through my very own mother's rebuke (I wish to describe this circumstance as "Kata Ghaye nuun-er Chheta") and this also guilt might propel my family to review harder, concentrate and also perform for longer hours this also occurred as daily schedule in my opinion; so I can easily get the best of most connected with the students be that researching or swimming or even any different work.

Hence to all parents, I actually would like to ask for allowing your kids to help watch anime because it proved helpful out for me (maybe I use strange wirings within my human brain! ). Enjoying anime would help an individual to hone your fictional, vocabulary and analytical expertise. More importantly, it would certainly serve as a enormous source of entertainment, at the very least way beyond the little league of daily Indian soap.

Understanding the culture associated with origins is very crucial to realize the plan, be it Japanese cartoons, Korean language Aeni webtoons, China's Manhua Anime or Us sitcoms (which I endured after i was novice inside observing anime). If anyone have watched virtually any cartoons, you will probably discover that often the characters respond differently along with things throughout general (like properties, vehicles, eating etc. ) are usually bit different from everything you used to. Probably the actual most readily evident distinctions between Japanese computer animation in addition to others is the a muslim everywhere huge eyes (bigger in comparison with nose), brightly girl locks, some well-endowed character types as well as exaggerated emotional movement and also gestures are regular regarding anime. Being hand-drawn, cartoons is separated coming from actuality providing an best path intended for escapism directly into which followers can involve themselves having relative simplicity. The production of cartoons focusses less on the particular cartoon movement and considerably more on the realistic look involving settings like "The Yard of Words".

The particular beginning and credit sequences connected with most anime are combined with Japanese rock or take song which maybe related to the anime series, simply by popular bands. "Nanairo Namida" by Tomato n' Pinus radiata of anime "Beelzebub" along with "Just Awake" of cartoons "Hunter X Hunter" are a few of my favourite anime tunes, which you may try out.

Since there are several sorts of cartoons, one will need to classify these individuals with different genres, some associated with them are generally: Action, Audio, Mecha, Experience, Mystery, Bishounen, Yuri, Yaoi, Akuma, Seinen, Shoujo, Shounen, Kodomo, Piece of Existence and a lot of more. Whether you're the die-hard anime fan (like me generally labelled seeing that "otaku"), a casual watcher, the interested onlooker or perhaps commoner from non-anime website: cartoons genres shall supply you actually with some simple knowledge which help you in order to venture the cartoons planet with ease and joy.

I am going to be able to share some remarkable rates of anime which will etch my heart usually are:

• Motoko Kusanagi regarding "Ghost in the Shell a couple of: Innocence"

"We weep to get blood of a pet although not for the our blood of a species of fish. Endowed are those with any tone. "

• Shinchi Akiyama of "Liar Game"

"People SHOULD be doubted. Many people get me wrong this specific concept. Doubting people is simply a part of getting for you to know them. Just what quite a few people call "trust" is absolutely just giving up about wanting to understand others in addition to that extremely act is definitely far more serious than questioning. It is actually 'apathy'. "

• Hachiman Hikigaya of "My Teen Passionate Comedy SNAFU"

"If simple truth is cruel

Then

Lie needs to be kind

Then

Kindness need to be lie"

You can observe anime with T. /. by opting-in to Animax, Aniplus, AnimeCental, TV Tokyo or online on internet sites like animehaven. to help, kissanime, Funimation. com, Netflix, Crunchyroll. com, hulu, Vimeo and so forth.

ENJOY WATCHING CARTOONS!

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otdderamin · 7 years ago

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Transcript Talks Machina 2018-02-20 0:20:50 How Molly uses appearance to assess people

Taliesin chose to play a tiefling because he "wanted a comfortable outsider." (TM 2018-01-16 0:34:49) Tieflings are already visibly, inescapably marked by their infernal heritage. In Western society, tattoos and piercings (especially lots of them) have long been regarded as outside polite society. Molly's body modification signals that he's leaning into outsider status and a refusal to conform, nor will he be quiet about it. His ostentatious clothing, too, serves to amplify the volume of his presence.

This is a very old counter-culture technique (used especially loudly by punk and goth culture) to see how people react to new ideas by deliberately trying to trigger the backfire effect (which The Oatmeal wrote a wonderful comic about). Basically, you've built up a worldview where everything fits together nicely and neatly and makes sense. It's built of things like religion, tradition, upbringing, family, peer group, life experience, and preferences. When new ideas don't fit our world view and threaten to destabilize it, we protect that world view by reacting like we're being attacked by a predator.

A "big demonic face with a bunch of piercings and tattoos" immediately forces the question "How do you feel about people who obviously do not conform to 'polite' society and don't want to?" Molly's looking for the immediate amygdala threat assessment reaction, not the secondary conscious effort to be polite. If someone flinches or recoils, he knows that accepting outsiders is not part of their core beliefs, and they aren't to be trusted, even if they then put on a veneer of politeness. If they don't flinch, he knows they are at least open to outsiders. He might not immediately trust them, but they're worth his time finding out. It's a quick and passive way to screen out bullshit he doesn't want to deal with.

Scene runs: 0:20:50 to 0:22:47

0:20:50 Taliesin: "He's still forming opinions of everybody in this group. He's not come to… He's somebody who makes a lot of snap judgements. Which, I'm sure, in a D&D environment when you have a, you know, big demonic face with a bunch of piercings and tattoos you can immediately look at someone and immediately make a character assessment of them."

Brain: "That's true, yeah."

0:21:15 Taliesin: "It's the joy of playing- It's the joy of being a character like that. And I will say, like, I mean like, even the joy of, as a teenager, running around with a mohawk, and a trench coat, and ridiculousness, and sort of being extravagant in any way, is that immediately, when people meet you, they usually are polite enough to immediately tell you exactly who they are. By their reaction and their- the way that they treat you. There's just- There's no attempt at being subtle, there's no- there's just this immediately- 'I'm laying out the table all my issues, all of my problems, everything I am as a person, and you can do whatever you like with that.' And he's a big fan of that as a person. That's one of the reasons why he is so decked out is because it's such an easy way of immediately assessing people."

Brian: "Oh, interesting, put it out there."

0:22:02 Taliesin: "Yeah. So, it's like, 'Yeah; ah okay. This is somebody who, you know, I can manipulate one way, or someone I can manipulate another way.' And everybody so far has been relatively nice. Even the people who are not- don't like him aren't vicious."

Brian: "Hostile, necessarily; yeah."

0:22:20 Taliesin: "And so he thinks they're cute at the- so far. And definitely was meditating upon the notion of taking all their shit and vanishing in the night. Definitely thought about it. But so far just wants to see where the chips fall at this point. He's undecided, and he wants to see how they handle- deal with pressure and what they… how they treat other people. Which is kind of the big deal at this point."

0:22:47

If you like this transcript, please consider donating your time to Critical Role Transcripts, @CRTranscript on Twitter, to help them provide closed captioning to Critical Role. We'd like to share this wonderful show with as many people as possible, regardless of hearing ability or English language skills.

Also, consider buying me a coffee (ko-fi.com/otdderamin). I've been working on these while struggling to adjust to disability. Donating helps me justify spending time on these projects.

#critical role #talks machina #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role meta #critical role transcript #talks machina transcript #transcript #CRT-TM

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wellthatwasaletdown · 6 years ago

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Just a mess but post whenever you're bored lol. Great blog btw.

My advice to Harry for HS2 (this eh… got away from me)

First would be head over to Sweden to Max Martin and beg him to write songs with a kind of racketing Northern UK 80s vibe (think Jessie’s girl), some rollicking early George Michael, and a little bit of Tom Jones cheese on top. No hair metal, no 70s dreariness, no bombast. (Stop trying to reincarnate FM and GnR through a British xfactor contestant Irving – its making everyone look silly!). Second he should head back over to Nashville for some nice country song songs he can pour his wee heart into. It’d be a mixed bag but so were Midnight Memories and MITAM and they’re great albums imo. ‘Girl name’ songs and hook-up songs are mostly banned because HS1 has forever tainted Harry singing songs like that with a truly nasty level of misogyny. Instead the songs should be as follows but in no particular order:

‘A boat from an Island up my Own Arse’ (James’ song) : about what happens when you fall for your own follower count and start acting the arse – relatable for loads of kids in these days of social media notoriety.

This song could be deep and introspective and Harry could get Kodaline to help him write it (they already have a good one on this called The Answer) or it could be a fun rocking slap up his own head, a tongue in cheek send up of his own hype. His choice, artist input is important. You could have loads of fun with this video but Jaffsen (James, Jeff, Ben) are banned from any involvement, except they can cameo as themselves maybe.

2 ‘Look At You Now’ ; continuing on from the theme of 1. This song could be a counterpoint, fast where the other is slow or vice versa. Its not a love song, it’s about that one friend you took for granted, and mean-girled in front of your cooler friends just because they were all awkward laughing and train-track braces but now they’re all grown and fit and you’re looking a bit past your sell by date. Also relatable in a post high school sort of way to a lot of people. Perfect chance for a bit of open-ended homoeroticism - like a love song to how fit and thick your former best male friend has gotten and how you kinds wish you were him.

4. ‘Guess I’m just a Tool’ ; about what happens when the only friends you have, only met you when you were already famous and all your old mates got sick of you. Not a ‘waah haterz abe jealous’ song (the world has had enough of those) – a little insight and something new to say will be required. Sloppy lyrics or ideas not accepted.

5. ‘Looking at me, looking at me’ ; this could be Abba-esque, and the. one. song. where Jeff is allowed to adlib, with ‘Ah-Haaa’ (he must dress as Alan Partridge for the video though that’s non-negotiable). This one is about narcissism in the present day when you realise even on other people’s birthdays you’re always just checking out yourself in the selfie. Could be all deep and sorrowful eiher – but then no Jefe, no adlibs. It would be most fun as a joke song though. We’ll leave it to Harry and his hopefully new therapist to figure out where the song goes.

(Corden would almost certainly want to do the video but he’s banned, along with all the Kardashians. Jefe could cameo as above but not contribute any ideas at all. This could not be Kendall does Protest levels of bad, it’s a song about narcissism, not an exercise in narcissism)

6. ‘You’re to coo-ool for meee, in all the ti-ings you beee’ ; this is about what it’s like when your best friend always looks like Apollo fcked a Disney princess and sent the child to be brought up by the ghost of Jimi Hendrix. Also a good chance for open ended homoeroticism. Every piece of clothing you own looks better on him and he just does everything so much cooler. You hate him but you love him, this love is tainted. A mea culpa for the dark sided shit team Azoff have almost certainly pulled on Z.

7. ‘Don’t you wish you could be Louis’ Girl’ ; a straight up rip off of Jessie’s Girl really. This sounds bad but in a surprise twist it would actually be a paean, a celebration of the string of fit girls Louis has loved, in the best tradition of Northern UK rock. It would be updated to include an element of empathy for, and celebration of, the millions of us who aren’t size E.

The song would also have a note of the longing that comes from your best friend always being in long term relationships along with lots of nice non-misogynistic celebration of women of all shapes and sizes and family types. A mea culpa for Kiwi and all the other nastiness of HS1. Girl Almighty but raunchier music and better lyrics.

Larries will be happy thinking it’s about Harry wishing he was Louis’ girl, but the kindness in the lyrics will cut off the nastiness they tend to spew. Harry will pull on his big boy pants and reiterate the need for fans to stop trashing other women in interviews, while humbly admitting the song is a rip-off, a tongue in cheek homage to

8. ‘Untitled’ ; this is about what happens when your best friend gets on a leetle too well with your love. They have all the same interests, they start to finish each other’s sentences, they get each other’s jokes when you don’t…. they touch each other alot … ‘jokingly’. You don’t wanna act Zealous but fucks sake! …. Cue 1 million Zouis fan vids and Zourry triangle angst fics! I live for them!

9. ‘I got caught up in the wrong kind of love’ ; this one could be serious, country and western vibes, that pulls together a lot of the earlier themes. Its about what happens when you let down the love of your life because you get too caught up in loving your own career. That hot friend from song 8 ends up being their shoulder to cry on and they end up comforting each other in all kinds of ways. You’re all wronged but you all did wrong. Everybody hates everybody but no one can move on. There is potential for two more songs looking at same situation from different angles.

Ssshh, these don’t have to be real - cue aaall the fics, this fandom runs on them after all.

10. A cover of ‘I can’t help falling in love with you.’ Don’t … touch me.

11. Bonus Track: Harry, Liam and Tinie Tempah cover Don’t Worry, Be Happy. It is released as a single and they donate the proceeds to a shelter in Thailand that rescues trafficked girls.

TLDR: Harry ceases to be as ass about 1D and himself and remembers that he got famous by being fun and light and bringing a little joy to people’s lives. He doesn’t have to abandon attempts to write his own deep and / or experimental album, he just has to postpone it until he has the groundwork done, musically, intellectually, spiritually.

Promo: Jaffben are not allowed anywhere near the recording process except for Jefe on song 5. Jefe does not go to RS or NME for promo. He goes to Closer and OK. Harry goes on Loose Women and Elvis Duran and Jonathan Ross and gives intelligible answers about the end of 1D, his last album, his new direction etc and doesn’t act all disingenuous like he doesn’t know why the interviewer would want to know. He gives 0 long-form masturbatory interviews to glossy magazines.

He can draw whatever lines he likes around his personal life as long as he states it clearly, gives a reasonable explanation on his take on privacy now vs the family feel of early 1D, and then sticks to it. Jefe does not use the gossip rags as promo. If he’s being all private then his mother and sister are 100% silent on him too, no backdoor gossip mongering, no nepotism, no encouraging invasive stalkers. He ceases to let all and sundry use him to shill their shit. This fandom has been bled dry enough already. He gets his passive aggressive tendencies under control and only uses them to silence the nastier elements of his fandom.

There is no perfume ad, no docuwank, unless Jaffben want to film themselves actually jerking off to their HS shrines - they can put that on pornhub at their own discretion. Basically Jaffben and Apple are not allowed to monetise the shit out of this fandom. Harry puts himself out there and sells his music. The End.

Or y’know he carries on as is, lets Jefe bag him some more film roles, maybe a romantic ‘comedy’ with the same nasty misogynistic undertones as his album and the shitcom? (Think Apatow but worse) Does another derivative album, gets Irving to pull strings so its praised no matter what, rinse repeat.

#harry styles #submission

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curious-minx · 4 years ago

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Bob’s Burgers Turns The Back Gas Burner Back On! The Simpsons continue drinking from the historical comedy well.

Fell behind on my Sunday Night animation coverage, mainly because of wonky network scheduling. I have better working wi-fi now so I can actually watch the episode as they air if they ever air.

////

Ah Sports, the great Schedule Cleaner that has a tendency to push out episodes into another slot on Fox’s Sunday Night. Which is why the Simpsons’ Treehouse ritual won’t be airing until November, and it’s little consistencies like these that help provide some stability and grounding in these shifting, tumultuous 2020 melting calendar dates.

First off, the promise of quality of this third episode of the season 11 is right in the title“Copa-Bob-Bana.” This is also the second episode in a row with an Opening Storefront gag seemingly tailor made to my interests with a Lou Reed Joke and the Drive-By Van gag being a Talking Heads pun. Promising. When a Bob’s Burgers episode works it is one of the comfier offerings on the TV landscape. This episode follows the more successful formula of Bob & Linda (A)-Plot night out from the house and Belcher Children (B)-plot mild mannered, slightly gross mischief.

Throwing Kevin Kline’s Fischoeder into the mix is also a highly potent element in a Bob’s Burgers episode. Pile in, Zach Galifinakis’s Felix Fischoeder along with Bill Hader’s Mickey, while also introducing the most inconsequential Fischoeder yet with a cousin voiced by David Wain that also looks like David Wain. The more characters the merrier as far as Bob’s Burgers is concerned and the show is doing a pretty fine job at fleshing out this world and maintaining working relationships with these big wigs, Bob’s Burgers is always kind to its regulars. Most importantly, the show realizes the importance of the Belchers getting the occasional small victory with Bob earning a full month’s rent. Linda adds on a heart breaking aside about how a month’s rent is more than they ever make in a month that really drives home the working class spirit of this series.

While the grossness and shabbiness of the Belcher children pool party has a tinge of the pathetic about it especially when it’s being filtered and judged through the higher status Chole Barbash (voiced by Brooklyn 99’s Stephanie Beatriz, who knew!), but they still have friends who indulge in their gross, shabbiness instead of making them feel bad about the nice pool that they lack. A surprising amount of pathos and depth from such a silly and simple premise.

I am not convinced that the show has figured out a fully fleshed out compelling dynamic between Felix and Calvin other than that Felix is pathetic man child and Calvin is the son that mommy loved more. There are only so many more times that this can play out without it becoming completely stale, but Galifinaki’s skillful comedic acting chops prevent Felix from being straight up insufferable. Having Bob and Linda leave at the big climatic brotherly fight at the end of the episode is satisfying and not too tidy. Bob and Linda have boundaries and know that they have no place or justification to help these feuding rich assholes, whereas a lesser show may have had the Belchers involve themselves more in other people’s problems and play the role of faithful human carpet for their landlord. The episode also subverts the teased big musical number between Linda and Calvin by relegating it to the ending credits, but it’s a really great example of John Robert’s singing performance. Linda is hitting notes with a elegance and charm and bouncing off of Kevin Kline effortlessly and it makes me really sad that we’re not getting that Big Movie Musical anytime soon.

4 rusty bathtubs full of wet bread out of 5.

/////

When I first watched the far more messily titled episode 3 Season 32, “Now Museum, Now You Don’t” I straight up despised it. The second episode in a row that refuses to just be an episode of the Simpsons and instead another episode of historical comedy vignettes. This time based around Lisa being sick at home (with Covid?!) flipping through pages of a coffee table book on the history of Western Art. Oh joy. There’s also, count em and weep, four different musical numbers. Even better.

The Simpsons and the game of classical spot the reference art appreciation is a time honored tradition. That said it is still truly jarring to watch an entire episode based around the show’s art department churning out postcards and merchandise for a Simpsons gift shop. This entire episode is an easy on the eyes visual delight that makes it pretty easy to turn your brain off and appreciate the visual overload.

Quality visuals and art references alone cannot save the episode from itself, because this episode contains a few of the most stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks awful jokes the show has probably ever had that make Family Guy look as sophisticated and subtle as a New Yorker cartoon. Can anyone convince me that Family Guy hasn’t already had a joke involving Little Caesar being stabbed to death by the Noid? I didn’t think so. Another brutal cut-away gag comes in the form in the Marge Simpson styled as Frida Kahlo segment where she does the clunkiest, club footed walk to a cutaway joke involving Bernie Sanders as a baby condoning his “Bernie Bros..I mean Bernie Babies” about their violence and bullying of the other schoolyard children. Really tells you all that you need to know about the rich ivy-league educated white guys that have always botched this kind of political commentary on the Simpsons, a show that is supposed to subversive and against the status quo. This kind of criticism against Bernie Sanders is not only horribly out of date, but are even more depressing given the reality of the current election.

The other really groaner forced attempt at a joke happens when Homer Simpsons’ Diego Rivera hopes to get a writing job on Rick and Morty. A joke that basically murders the episode before a truly visually satisfying over the credits gag of Moe walking through Van Gough paintings singing a song about the Gracie Films “Shushing Lady.” Now I know the show has played around with adding screams and sound effects to this production credit, but I don’t think I have ever witnessed such a meta moment around a production company logo, perhaps ever, and I must give the episode props for that.

The important takeaway is that while plenty of people don’t care about the Simpsons and know that it has long since lost its luster over a decade ago, rewatching this episode really tempered down my vitriol and through the duration of the episode I found myself basically having a good time. The flat out bad moments of the forced jokes and lazy writing are now becoming far more pronounced and jarring as the series death marches on, but the visual language and expressiveness of the series this late in its run warrants a glance from anyone who likens themselves to an animation fan. I would still recommend that people skip the previous episode and try to give this one a chance. The possibility that this show will trigger a brain aneurysm with some of its choices is a very real, nearly unavoidable reality, but there are some larfs scattered in the ruins.

Pass, but just barely, and I swear if the rest of the season continues down this streak of vignette driven episodes I will have to abandon this futile endeavor.

#Bob's Burgers #simpsons #tv #tv series #tv review #recap #art criticism #bernie sanders #lou reed

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grayzaweek · 7 years ago

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Prompt 8: Fairy Tale

“Daddy, will you tell me a story?”

“Sure. But you’re gonna hafta try and sleep after this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl. Now then. There was once a tiger. One day, it grew wings and flew away. It lived happily ever after. The end. Go to sleep.”

Pouting, the little girl kicked her feet up against the blanket. “That’s not a story! You cheated!”

“Alright, alright, calm down. Sheesh. You have your mom’s spirit, alright. So what kinda story d’you want?”

“A fairy tale.”

“Huh. Well then. I can do that.”

“You can?”

“Sure. Who d’you think I am?” He grinned proudly, watching the child’s face light up in joy. It was worth it. Just for her. “Okay. So. Far away, in a distant land-”

“What’s it called?”

“Hmm? Well. Let’s call it Ente Isla.”

“What’s it like?”

A wistful smile graced his features. “It was… magical. See, it consisted of five islands. One in the centre with the other four to the north, south, east and west of this central island.”

“Have you seen it?”

“D’you wanna hear the story, or d’you wanna ask questions?”

“Story, story!”

“Okay, then.” He gathered his thoughts. “Now on the western island, on a farm, lived a girl. A little older than you, and a little younger than me. She lived there with her father. We’ll call her Knightwalker. So-”

“Didn’t she have a mommy?”

“Who, Knightwalker? Sure she did. But her mommy was an angel, you see. She fell in love with the farmer, but Heaven didn’t allow this, so she couldn’t stay.”

“I don’t like Heaven.”

That made him laugh. “Good girl. Neither did I. Anyway, one day, some people from the Ente Islan Church arrived at their farm. They wanted to take Knightwalker away.”

“Why?”

“To train her to be a hero. Since her mommy was an angel, she had some sorta weird angelic power. She was the only one of her kind that the Church knew of.”

“Girls can be heroes?”

“Oftentimes the best heroes are girls. You’ll see one day.” He grinned and ruffled her hair. The girl giggled.

“But why did they need to take her away?”

“You see, the King of the Demons had raised an army and wanted to take over Ente Isla. A few days after she left, her farm was attacked and her dad died.” The girl’s face crumpled. He gently took her hand in his. “So Knightwalker was the only one who could stop these demons. So she trained and trained and trained. She trained really hard and became a Hero. She freed the western island first, then north and east and south before marching on the middle island.” He paused and lowered his voice. “To fight the Demon King himself.”

Her eyes widened. “She fought the Demon King?”

“She did, she did!” He nodded for effect. “Kicked his butt too.”

“She beat the Demon King?”

“Not exactly.” He smiled. “She would’ve. She cut off one of his horns. But before she could finish him off, he created a magical portal to another world and ran away. The Hero went after him, however.”

“What happened next?”

“No idea. Nobody knows.”

The girl pouted again, and he laughed and patted her forehead. “Now go to sleep.”

“Okay, okay. I hope she kills him though.”

“Hmm?”

“I hope Knightwalker kills the Demon King.”

That gave him pause. He was quiet awhile as he stroked the girl’s hair until she fell asleep. When she finally drifted off, he rose to his feet and clicked off the night lamp.

“Yeah,” he said quietly in the darkness. “I hope so too.”

He made his way out of the room and closed the door as silently as he could. It’d be a shame if the girl woke up after all his efforts to put her to sleep.

“I gather she’s asleep?”

Despite himself, he jumped. The hallway was unlit, just like the kitchen cum dining room it led to. Hearing a sudden voice in the darkness would fuck with anybody.

“Gosh dang it, Erza!” he exclaimed in a whisper, hand over his chest in an effort to stop his heart from leaving his ribcage. “What in the frick frack snick snack are you doing sitting in the dark?”

“Firstly, hearing the Great Demon Overlord censor his language never gets old.” He heard a chuckle and glared into the darkness.

“That’s only because you told me to watch my ‘barbaric, demon tongue’ around our daughter!”

“And secondly, I’m having tea.”

“In the dark?”

“Electricity is expensive in Tokyo.”

That, he knew. Though he had a small fan in his own apartment, Lyon suggested they use hand-fans during the day and only turn on the fan to sleep at night. They wouldn’t need it during winter, anyway.

Having pinpointed her location, he walked carefully to the table. Activating his demonic night vision would expend magical resources he couldn’t really afford to waste. She sensed his approach for she asked, ”Is Violet asleep?”

“Yeap.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to get a call from a frantic you, begging me to-”

“I did not beg.”

“Begging,” he repeated and was rewarded when he heard her click her tongue. “Me to come over and put Violet to sleep. The Great Hero Erza Scarlet, Bane of the Demonic Army, conquered by a five-year-old! Ah, how the mighty have fallen!”

“Shut up,” Erza snapped. He imagined her huffing and snickered. “You may be absolutely horrible and beyond all hope of redemption, but you are good at some things.”

“High praise. You goin’ soft?”

A chuckle. “Hardly. I am simply being practical. Anyone could see that you are a great father.” The disdain in her voice was palpable and he grinned. Then she softly said, “And Violet needs you. No matter what I think of the matter.”

He said nothing for a while. The silence continued until he heard her slurp her tea.

“That may be true, but don’t think for a second that she doesn’t need you or you’re a bad mom.”

Judging from the sharp intake of breath across him in the darkness, he knew he’d hit the nail right on its head.

He continued, “Look, there are things only you can do. Okay? You are giving most of your time to her, and yet you’re handling your job and social life well. I think that’s awesome. You’re the one she sees when she wakes up and I can sleep well at night knowing you’ll be the best influence on her.” He shrugged. “Me, I just take her out to amusement parks and stuff. I can’t do what you do. Maybe if you’d let me bring her over-”

“There is no way I am letting my daughter sleep in a one-room flat inhabited by three bums. You’re lucky I even let you breathe the same air as her.”

The snark was back in her voice. She’d be okay. He smirked.

“I’ll have you know that Lyon’s turned it into an amazing bachelor pad. Be jealous.”

“Yeah, right.” There was a smile in the way she said it. He nodded to himself. “Say, Overl-”

“I. Have. A. Name.”

“Just so you know, I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“I hope they fall right outta your face.”

“Fine, fine. Gray, then.” A pause. Then she hesitantly asked, “How do you put her sleep?”

He wanted to turn on the lights just to smirk victoriously at her but thought better of it. It was best not to screw around with Erza when she was having a self-doubt episode.

“It depends. Tonight I just told her a story.”

“A story, huh? What about?”

Humming, he said, ”Oh, the conquering of Ente Isla by the Demonic Hordes.”

A sharp clang rang out as the cup was placed on the saucer with much force. Fingers shot out of the darkness and curled into the collar of his shirt. Gray experienced being jerked around like he’d never been jerked around before. It made it harder to concentrate on Erza’s hissed words.

“You did what?! Are you trying to sell my daughter Demonic propaganda to win her over to your side?! Oh my God, you’re trying to take her away.”

“Dude, calm down,” he forced out, grabbing her wrists and trying to free himself. “It’s not like that!”

The jerking around stopped. “I shall give you half a minute to explain yourself.”

So he did. “It was just a story, jeez. It was about a Hero defeating the Devil.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Wake her up and ask her.”

She let go of him. “I’ll ask her in the morning. If I get any indication that you lied to me, I will summon my sword and skewer you right then and there. I don’t even care if I can’t get back afterwards.”

“Yeah, but then you’d hafta clean up all the blood, which is mighty hard to do. You have no bleach, last I checked. Bloodstains really tank resale value too.” He shrugged. “Besides, if I bleed, my personality will leak out.”

She huffed. “What personality?”

“Excuse you.” Gray leant back against the chair. “You really have a dim opinion of me, don’t you?”

“I wonder whose fault that is.”

“Touché.” He closed his eyes and sighed, facing the ceiling. “I won’t do anything of the sort to her. Of that, I give you my word.”

“That means about as much to me as used sanitary napkin.”

Gray barked out a laugh. “Nice one. But yeah, I wouldn’t worry. D’you know what she told me when I told her that the Devil escaped to another world?”

“I do not. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of eavesdropping.”

“Hey, man, that was just one time, okay? I hadta know what that Sariel guy’s sales pitch was!”

“I remain unimpressed. You were saying?”

“Oh right.” He hummed. “She said that she wishes that the Hero kills the Devil one day.”

Silence. Gray was interested to see how she would take that. When she responded, Erza didn’t disappoint.

“I’m glad she knows her priorities,” she said, sipping her tea.

Gray chuckled. I’m glad she does, too. He rose to his feet. “Well, I’m off.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Lyon will start crying if I don’t show up soon.” He sighed as he went to the front door and slipped on his shoes. He knew her apartment well enough by now to navigate flawlessly in the dark.

Erza didn’t get up from her chair. “Let the door hit you on your way out.”

“G’night to you too,” he replied as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Gray pocketed his hands and walked up to the edge of the balcony to look out at the city sprawled out before him. Erza’s apartment was on the fifth floor of the complex, so it afforded a good view.

It reminded him of home, somehow, this weird place inhabited by humans. It was a different battle they faced, the people of Earth, but it was a battle nevertheless. He smiled to himself and headed for the stairs.

He was halfway down the first flight when he heard a door being thrown open. Moments later, he heard footsteps rushing towards the staircase. He stopped on the landing when he heard Erza’s voice.

“Gray! You forgot your damn umbrella - kyaahhh!”

He saw her round the bend, umbrella in hand, and in typical Erza fashion, she slipped on the stairs on her way down.

Gray was already expecting this. She always fell down the damn stairs everywhere. He’d already made his way up the stairs by the time she slipped, so he had no problem in catching her. It was hard not to, for as soon as she’d seen him, Erza had aimed for him. Perhaps he was just used to catching her. Perhaps she was used to it, too. It was just something they did.

Except this time, she had her arms around his neck and her face burrowed in his throat while he had his arms around her waist.

“When will you learn to use the fuckin’ stairs?” he breathed into her hair. Even her shampoo smelled of strawberries. Thank goodness I didn’t get slapped by her braid.

“-again,” she said in response.

“Don’t just keep going like nothing happened!”

“Sh-shut up!” She looked up at him, a blush spreading across her face. “It’s not like I wanted to fall into your arms or something, you idiot!”

For the first time that evening, Gray had a good look at her. He’d rushed to rescue her from Violet and had spent most of his time with the girl. Then they’d talked in the darkness to save electricity, but now that wasn’t the case.

She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that. Her flustered and embarrassed face just made her look adorable, all red like that. Her deep brown eyes were sharper than usual in contrast, filled with the intent to seriously maim, if not kill. He chuckled.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m an ass at the top of my class.”

She started to wiggle out of their awkward embrace and he let go. Erza handed him the umbrella. “Here. Don’t just leave it randomly somewhere.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after your gift.”

“It was not a gift! I was paying back a debt!”

He grinned and turned to leave. “Whatever you say.”

“Gray?”

He stopped. “Hmm?”

“What did you say when Violet said… y’know.”

Ah, yes. “I said I hoped the Hero got the Devil, too.”

“Why?”

Looking over his shoulder at her, Gray was somewhat surprised to see her glaring at him. She appeared… displeased. He blinked. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“Yes, but, it’s not what you want!”

“Shows what you know.”

“You want to die?”

Gray sighed and turned to face her. “Since when do you care about what I want?”

“Why are you answering a question with another question?”

“Well, why shouldn’t I?”

“Ugh. I give up.” Erza pinched her eyebrows in frustration. ”I don’t know why you’re being so evasive, but it’s suspicious.”

“I’m the Devil. It’s kinda my job to be suspicious.”

“I hate you.”

Gray chuckled as he turned to leave, twirling the umbrella in his hand. “Don’t let the stairs get you on your way back.”

“Shut up. It gets really tiring, being saved all the time by you.”

He smiled to himself. “I’m the same way.”

#grayza #grayza week 2017 #bonus day #fairytale #writing #submission

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