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himboarcher · 4 years ago

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reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad.#but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go.#long post

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

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Kinktober #27: The Lake: Bakusquad

In which you and Kirishima take a trip to the lake for a little class reunion.

Characters: primarily Kirishima / f!reader, but also Jirou, Sero, Kaminari, Bakugou and Mina / f!reader AND background Kaminari / Jirou

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro-hero Kiri, Bakugou, Denki, Jirou, Mina and Sero, group sex, polyamory, brief mentions of drinking, not a whole lot of attention paid to protection (sorry...)

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Orgy.” You can probably tell by how many fcking PEOPLE are involved lmao. I... had trouble with this one! This was tough. There are a lot of limbs to keep track of. But I wouldn’t be opposed to re-visiting this dynamic again soon, with more time to play around a little.

I know it says 1-A on the masterlist, but it really did turn out to be more of a Bakusquad thing, sorry!

Kinktober Masterlist

You’re folding one last sweater into your weekend bag and zipping it up when Kirishima swings by to pick you up.

After a very long, hot summer week at the office, your boss let you go a couple of hours early on a slow Friday afternoon- just soon enough to catch the early train home. It turned out to be very lucky indeed, since Kirishima’s already here and you’re just finishing up your packing.

Then again, it’s not your fault you’ve been agonizing over what to bring.

The buzzer by your door sends your heart leaping into your throat, but it only takes a quick peek out the front window to confirm that it’s Kiri. He knows that you’ll look before you head for the door, so he’s stepped back from the front stoop a little and shoots you a bashful wave with one hand shoved into his pocket.

You melt. He’s cute enough to put your nerves to rest.

“Good afternoon, milady,” he greets with a sweep of charming enthusiasm when you pull the door open for him. He bows playfully before stepping into your apartment. “I will be your escort this weekend. Show me to your luggage.”

“I don’t think there’s enough of it to be called ‘luggage,’” you giggle. You slip an arm around his neck and push a kiss against his cheek.

“Hi.”

He gasps, pressing his fingers to the spot where your lips touched.

“Such unprofessional behaviour. I’m going to have to report this, you know.”

“Shut up.” You bat at his chest. The bastard, in all his well-muscled glory, barely flinches. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The threat’s playful, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider it, it in the darkest hours of the night before.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a little cabin out by the lake, drink, party, and catch up. You’ve been dating just under a year, so you’ve never been to one of these before. Even though you’ve met everybody who’s going to be there individually, it’ll be the first time you see them as a group.

And Kirishima’s known them for ten years. You like to think you know him pretty well, but compared to them, you’re strangers.

“It’s not too late to,” he breathes, pausing to glance at you with a moment’s sincerity.

“No,” you brush. “No, I’m fine.” You put your hands on his forearms and squeeze gently. “Nervous, but�� that’s what the drive up is for, right?”

“Yeah.” He flashes you a grin that steals your heart over and over again, sweeping you and your little suitcase out the door.

The drive is breezy and surprisingly quick, given the expected level of weekend cottage-country-traffic. You blast the radio and turn it down during the commercials. But you can’t help the sinking dread that pits in your stomach when the ETA in your navigation app drops from an hour and a half to forty-five minutes to five minutes.

The drive was supposed to be your chance to settle your nerves. You’re not ready to be here yet.

When you pull down the sloped gravel driveway of the cabin, there are already three cars there. You recognize Bakugou’s sleek Audi, but you can only assume that the other two belong to the rest of the crew.

So everyone else is already here. Makes sense. Nobody else works 9-5, so they probably cut off early to get here.

Doesn’t make you any less freaked out.

Kirishima insists on grabbing both of your bags. He shoulders his way into the cabin with excitement building in every muscle. You can see it from ten feet away. He’s thrilled to be here. That thought honestly helps, for a hot minute.

Until you hear the voices that drift from inside.

The whole cabin’s lit up with savoury, beautiful smells when you step inside. The kitchen’s crowded- Bakugou’s chopping vegetables and doing his best to shoo everyone out of his way while he sautés and chops and glazes and bakes.

“Jesus Christ. Finally. Will you get these assholes outta my way?” Bakugou snarls, waving his knife around as soon as he catches sight of the two of you.

Before you can even laugh properly at Bakugou’s temper, there’s a high-pitched squeal of your name from behind him, and he’s abruptly shoved against the edge of the counter as a bright pink blur streaks around the island and launches herself at you.

“Hiiiii,” Mina coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek after she’s given you a tight squeeze.

The rest of the party filters in around you- Sero and Denki crowding not-so-subtly around the new addition to their little crew while Jirou makes her way over at a respectful pace. It becomes obvious to you almost immediately that you’re the first girl Kirishima’s ever brought to one of these.

You want to let that feel special. Instead, the intimidation only spikes.

You need to relax.

“Here, babe,” Mina sighs, shooing the boys away from you. “Kiri’ll take your bags upstairs. Let’s get you a drink.”

She grabs your hand and drags you toward the bar cart in the living room. Kirishima disappears up the stairs, but before you know it, he’s re-appearing. So is everybody else. The smells from the kitchen are growing unbearably tantalizing.

Bakugou hollers when dinner’s ready.

He’s done glazed pork chops with some kind of gorgeous mango slaw- indulgent and delicious, but light enough that none of you will be too stuffed at the end of the meal. You sit between him and Kirishima and everybody catches up.

Mina and Sero are starting an agency together. Denki and Jirou found a place together just outside of the city. And Bakugou, of all people, has just taken on his first U.A. intern.

You feel sorry for the poor kid already.

Once the dinner dishes have been cleared, you’re starting to feel more at ease. The conversation flows easily between the group of you, and you’re kind of killing it with the one-liners. Even Bakugou gives a dull chuckle when you land a particularly good one.

But the real purpose of this weekend can’t be put off forever.

“Babe,” Mina coos eventually, leaning over Kirishima to settle a hand on your thigh. “I am so excited that you’re here. Do you know how long it’s been since we had anybody new to play with?”

“Mina,” Kirishima scolds. “Don’t scare her.”

“What?” Mina sits up. “You said you were gonna tell her before you brought her here. Kiri, tell me you talked to her.” She looked up at you with wide eyes. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” you promise, holding your hands up to settle her. “He talked to me. I agreed to come knowing full well what we’re here for. But… I’m still nervous as hell over here.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina promises. “We’re gonna take good care of you, sweets. Besides, you and Kiri and Bakugou have before, right? So between them, it’s basically like you’ve already slept with all of us.”

She’s got a point. But that doesn’t change the fact that your cheeks are like molten lava just thinking about it.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a cabin out by the lake, drink, party… and fuck. You’ve shrugged monogamy with him before. Mina’s right- Bakugou’s joined you on a few different occasions. But this is something you’ve never even thought of trying before.

Still, Kirishima makes you want to take risks. He’s always been good that way- encouraging you to push your comfort zone without compromising your boundaries. When you first talked about this weekend, he’d framed his little pitch with the promise that if you weren’t comfortable with it, he was happy to miss out on it, too.

But you know his friends. You know his character. You trust him.

So you jumped.

“She’s so cute when she’s embarrassed,” Denki chuckles, propping his chin in his hand. He’s got his other palm on Jirou’s thigh under the table. In fact, everybody’s starting to get closer, now that dinner’s been taken care of.

“Let me kiss her. Please, Kiri?” Mina leans over again, resting a palm on Kiri’s lap as she bats her eyelashes at you.

“You’re gonna have to ask her yourself, Mina,” Kiri chides. He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, ready for the show.

Mina purrs your name again, smiling indulgently as she leans a little closer.

“Can I kiss you? Pretty please?”

You’re suddenly bashful, biting your lip. But you want this. You do.

“Sure. Okay.”

You release your lip from your teeth as Mina leans forward. Her lips are soft and so plush, and she’s a careful kisser. Out your right ear, you can hear Kirishima give a little sigh as he watches, and he rests a hand on each of your backs, rubbing soothingly.

“Come on,” Bakugou grunts as the two of you break apart. His chair scrapes harshly across the tile when he stands. “Get your asses to the living room before shit gets messy.”

Before you know it, you’re in a tangle of bare and sweaty limbs. You started out between Bakugou and Kirishima- the two boys you’re most familiar with. You’re stroking both of their hard cocks while they kiss each other, then you, then each other again. All the while, in the background, Mina, Sero, Denki and Jirou are stripping each other down, sprawling across the couch, letting a symphony of moans and sighs drift across the living room to your ears.

Before long, you’re pulled backwards into Denki’s lap as he fucks diligently up into you. Your pussy’s sloppy, slick from Mina’s tongue, and she’s perched right next to you, riding your boyfriend’s cock as the two of you let your hands drift.

You can see that Kirishima has a tight bond with all of these people. But you feel no jealousy towards them. If he can be so closely bonded with so many from his past, then why not you, too? Every time he catches your eye, no matter how many bodies there are between the two of you, he shoots you a loving little wink.

And at the end of the night, it’s you who’s going to be falling asleep beside him.

At some point, Bakugou pulls up a nearby chair, stroking himself while he watches the six of you drive each other to the edge, over and over and over again. By the time you’re all finished, you’re certain at least two dozen orgasms have passed between the lot of you.

And it shows. You’re exhausted.

After sharing such intimacy, you’re reluctant to break from one another. But inevitably you do, separating into your respective beds for the night. As you get ready for bed Kirishima’s full of energy.

“Holy shit, babe,” he raves, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a tight kiss. “That was so fucking hot. You did such a good job, god damn.” He cups your jaw between both his hands and pulls your gaze to his.

He looks down at you with the Milky Way lit up in his eyes, fathomless love all for you.

“You looked so perfect,” he confesses, kissing your forehead, “in the middle a’ all my friends like that.”

You fall into bed together, feeling sore and spent and very loved, and sleep better than you have in weeks.

The next morning, in a haze of woodsy dawn, everybody fights over what to make for breakfast.

#my hero academia #kinktober #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #bakusquad x reader #bakusquad #mha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha #jbbkinktober2020

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omnitf · 4 years ago

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Soulless

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Credit for this image goes to @dissolving-time. Follow this link to see the original post.

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Thank you, and enjoy the story! :D

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I used to be different than the man you see today. They say the industry changes you, and I suppose they’re right, whoever they are. I’ve been a model for ... I don’t even know how many years now. Like I said, things used to be different.

It was just one photo shoot. I didn’t expect to be such a hit. It was a million in a million in a million chance. Audition, smile to the cameras, wear the gear, sell the product, get paid in royalties. It was a straightforward business arrangement. Folks say they like to have models with a lot of heart and soul. Now that I think about it, that’s what the company said when they hired me.

My agent got the call, and then he called me. He barely kept himself from shouting as he told me the details. Daemonique was and still is one of the premier modeling brands out there. It costs a bundle and a half to even have them consider lending you their talent. Runways, photo ops, fashion articles, the works. If they looked at you, if they chose you, then you were in. You were set for life.

I was floored. Naturally, I said yes. I signed the contract and joined my fellow models in the spotlight, and my agent was offered a hefty sum for snatching me. He still lives very well, from what I understand. Daemonique poached him from his firm, something about being a, “devil of a recruiter.” We still talk sometimes, but usually it’s just when he offers me my new assignment. Sometimes, he brings new talent with him to meet me. People worship me, idolize me.

That used to impress me. Now I feel ... indifferent, I suppose. It’s ... difficult to describe. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the attention, more that ... I suppose I slide into whatever they want me to be. That’s my purpose as a model.

I remember when I was introduced to my hero in the modeling community, Nathan Bolaterro. My smile was radiant, my handshake firm and only slightly exaggerated. His smile was reserved, his bearing shifting to accommodate me.

“There are many models here,” he told me, “with many masks, many faces. It’s ... difficult to keep track of what brought you here sometimes, the ‘you’ that you put into your shoots. Make sure that you don’t lose track of it. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He looked almost sadly at a playbill with a beaming teenager wrapping either arm around another two other teens’ shoulders on stage. There were four of them, identically dressed in the traditional garb of the barber shop quartet from The Music Man. I could just barely see the resemblance between the middle left boy and the man that stood before me now.

One of the many agents that runs this place strode through the door then. “Nate, it’s time for your sports segment.”

The model swallowed heavily, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as a result. “Coming,” he said in a low-pitched tone. His gaze darted back toward that photo almost desperately. Then he turned his back and followed his handler out. I followed them into the hall, since it would be rude to remain in his dressing room.

“Do well on this one, and you’ll be a shoe-in for Soulless.” The agent grinned and thumped Nathan on the back. My breath caught at the mention of that great fashion line. Only the best of the best of the best in the agency could make it into that exalted circle.

I was confused when I saw, not a joyful smile, but a frown of unease cross over the model’s face.

The next time I saw him, he was getting out of a session for some sports magazine spread or some other campaign. His body was huge, his voice deep and dull. The familiar brand name Soulless stretched down one meaty thigh in big capital letters over the compression pants and widely across his left pectoral as he scratched the material of his compression shirt with his free hand. “You talking to me, bro?” He didn’t seem to recognize me. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. They seemed almost dead as he stared at me through the open visor of a football helmet. The angular shape of the opening gave his head an almost block-like appearance. The rich hair that had once been so carefully styled was little more than sculpted stubble now. His pupils vibrated, like they didn’t know whether to dilate or contract. Or ... maybe they were trying to, but couldn’t? “The name’s Jock....”

I still remember how freaked out I was after that encounter. My agent had to explain it to me, about Nathan’s “methods.” A lot of the models follow it, apparently. I guess ... I guess I do, too, now that I stop to think about it. There’s a sort of role that we’re asked to fill for each of our shoots. Whatever we model, the photographer wants us to fit certain ... characters, tropes, if you will. These tropes have names, and we don them as easily as we do makeup or an outfit for the cameras. Jock, Brat, Badboy, Greaser, Guido, Father, Hipster, Businessman, and so on.

It’s ... easy to forget your name when you’re in this community. You become almost numb to it. You have to, if you want to survive the media storms that follow you around. Let go of the power that name has over you, and you can usually ignore most of the reporters or rabid fans trying to get your attention. It’s a trick you learn fast in the business, once you make it big. And all Daemonique models make it big. Sometimes, when I have to sign a waiver or some other legal document, I pause and stare at the line, and I have to grope in the dark to try to find the name I cast away. Sometimes, it’s suggested that I just sign with an X, like a lot of the other models do, but I don’t want to yet. I still want to be able to keep that power of the name with me. If I stop using it there, it’ll be harder to ... to ... what? I’m not sure. Remember? Pull back? Be myself?

What even is “myself” anymore? I’m ... I’m not sure.

I’ve taken to carrying the photo that brought me to Daemonique’s attention with me. I find it ... grounding to stare at. Almost comforting, really. I talk to it sometimes, greet it with my name, almost like it’s another person. I guess ... in a way, it is. It’s sort of like a lifeline to me, a connection to the me that was before all the lights and the cameras and the flashes and masks I’ve had to don for the sake of the shoot, the product, the image that Daemonique wants me to fit.

I feel less and less like a person and more and more like some ... glorified prop, a life-sized doll that my handlers change, dress, shift, and adapt to their whims. And the scary part is, ... I’m okay with that. I ... almost relish slipping into those characters and roles now, because they fill that emptiness that I return to when I take them off. The face I see in the mirror of my dressing room is so ... alien to me now. It’s nothing like the face I see when I look at this photo. And that emptiness is reinforced whenever I get in line with the other models for our weekly assessments. There’s no real talking, just standing, waiting, moving in time as the camera shutter clicks, snaps, clacks. The model turns, the process repeats, until all the sides are captured. Then we move forward, and the next one follows. The young bloods toward the back of the line whisper and talk among themselves. I used to do that, too, to be that. Now, ... now it feels so ... unnecessary. I stand among my peers, where quiet is the norm and blank the ideal. A canvas waiting to be painted. A whiteboard waiting to be drawn up, then cleared.

...

A walking, talking mannequin.

Is that all I am now?

Is that all my purpose is?

Is this ... really what I want?

...

Does it really even matter anymore?

I feel so strange, so stripped, so ... empty, even as I stand on that line now, waiting for that photo set. I pull out my photo for comfort. That tiny spark is only so much against the yawning void that’s eaten away inside of me. A wry smile curves my lips, one of the first sincere ones I’ve had in who knows how long.

Did you know that some cultures believed that to capture yourself in a photo was to capture a piece of your soul? By that logic, every human who’s ever consumed media or pictures is a demon, or at least part demon. They consume those fragments, those pieces. And the models and actors and actresses let them. And they fill up with other things and ideas, just like I do when I’m in a shoot. They’re just as empty, just as desperate for fulfillment, a role, even a piece, a taste of the soul they used to be.

I barely even recognize the feel of the textured mat when I step in front of the camera. I stare into the lens, still holding the photo. The shutter clacks. The light flashes. My shadow is thrown up in sharp relief behind me on the backdrop. I blink. For a moment, I could almost swear that I see sharpened teeth bared in a hungry, anticipatory grin. Clack goes the shutter. Flash goes the light. Around I turn. I feel no sense of fear or worry at the sight of the horns. I feel ... nothing. I turn again and watch my shadow flash in front of me, then fade into the nothingness of the backdrop. Just a 2-D silhouette. No substance, no form, just here and gone in a flash of light and the click of a shutter.

I feel no anxiety at the sound of clopping hooves echoing in my ears as I turn again. I’m just going through the motions, following the formula. They want a blank slate. They want the empty. They want a foundation they can build and mold like clay in their hands. Malleable. Easy to shape and control. No complaints. No thoughts or discomforts. Just ... being. Just existing.

...

Empty.

I look down at my photo. There is no more thrill at it. No spark. No joy. No connection. Whatever power it held has been stripped by the camera. It is a person I do not know, a blank face in a crowd. I see no light in those eyes, no life, no ... soul, to use the company term. I see only a picture, a pointless picture.

Flash. Clatter. Flutter. Smack. The photo is no longer in my hand as I turn to face the camera again. The creature before me leers behind the camera as one final shutter goes off, one last flash. He licks his lips as his tail lashes behind him.

I turn and march as the other models before me on the line have done. Another paper is shoved at me. I do not bother with the name this time. An X will suffice.

My agent is there next to me suddenly. The soles of his shoes clunk with a rhythmic clopping, almost like hooves. He adjusts the waistband of his pants uncomfortably, then rubs at the nubs that I see growing from his forehead. He seems to be sweating for some reason. I’m not sure why as he breaths heavily. I can just see the hints of longer pointed canines protruding from his lips. He raises his phone and snaps a picture of me. I don’t blink.

“I think he’s ready, Sir.”

This time, I do blink. When I open my eyes, there is a bigger agent hovering over his shoulder. This one is like the photographer. The air smells of aftershave with a hint of sulfur as he leans down to peer into my eyes. I don’t care. I stare into an abyss like my own. This one has lights, but it it is different than mine was. It is not so much an absence of substance as a consumer of it. For the briefest of moments, I feel what could almost be considered a suction, a vacuous force seeking to draw something out of me, only there’s nothing to take. Nothing moves, nothing comes, because whatever that vacuum consumes is not there.

The grin that spreads across that face is savage and predatory. “Well done.” He lays a heavy clawed hand on my agent’s shoulder.

My agent shudders as his eyes flicker briefly and corrugated black horns slowly begin to emerge from the nubs. He licks his lips, and as he does so, flashes of his sharpening teeth appear in my gaze. He swallows and gulps, and as the pressure from what I can only assume is his supervisor increases, he hunches forward precariously on the balls of his feet as the beginnings of a tail bursts out behind him, having broken free of the confines of the seat of his pants.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” he repeats breathlessly as he stands up again. His cheeks are flushed from the sudden changes that have overtaken his body.

“Keep it up, and you’ll fit right in in no time.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” He smiles almost timidly, but there’s a hint of bite to it as his sharper teeth peek over the edges of his lips.

They motion for me to follow, and I do so without question.

“What will he, uh, it, become, Sir?”

The supervisor grins as we approach a large black door with red gilded lettering on its front in an angular archaic font that reads, SOULLESS. “Whatever we want it to be.”

The door opens, and I step forward, ready to take on whatever role my owners require. I am ready to be filled. I am blank.

“Welcome to Soulless, slate.”

My response is as numb and empty as I feel. “Thank you, Sir.”

I am nothing more than a dummy shuffled from caricature to caricature. That is my purpose and my role. When my work is complete, I am wiped clean, a blank slate again, to be molded and shaped as my handlers please. This is the fate of the soulless, and the soulless do not care.

I am Jock. I am Bear. I am Thug. I am Guido. I am Officer. I am Soldier. I am Father. I am Son. I am King. I am Peasant. I am Extra. I am everything and nothing. I am one of a legion of slates waiting to be wiped clean or filled according to our handlers’ whims.

We are legion.

We are the empty.

We are Soulless.

#transformation #jock #Model #conditioning #muscle #blank #Soulless #slate #no identity #fiction #demons #tf

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gr0vndz3ro · 4 years ago

Text

Prove Your Worth

Ceo!Bakugou x Reader(NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, slight bondage, slight degradation, dirty talk

Word count: 3,968

A/n: My friend gave me this idea because she really wanted to see a ceo bakugou and this is how I imagined it would happen but also im a hoe for some ceo sooooo. I enjoyed this a little to much so it turned out longer than what I expected that's what she said. Also I have had to rewrite this so many times because my computer is stupid. I’m also going to be taking requests for other characters in the BNHA fandom. This was my first smut so I hope y’all like.

You stood in front of the two daunting glass doors, a lump growing in your throat as you hold onto the intern paperwork. You’re in your third year and at the Sports Festival you were finally able to make it up to 2nd place. For the first time you had more than 50 offers, a LOT more. You knew that in order to become a successful hero you were going to have to try to get in with a Pro. You were surprised to see an offer from one Pro let alone two. Deku . . . and Ground Zero, shuddering at the thought of the intense Hero.

You take a step forward and pushed open the door, looking around the lobby and spot the receptions desk and walk over. A lady with short pink hair is typing away at the computer.

“How can I help you there?” She said without looking up or even pausing her ferocious typing. It had honestly caught you off guard as you were just going to wait for her to finish.

“I’m Y/N L/N, the 3rd year from UA, and I was here because of the offer I got for the internship?” you hand over you hero license and show her your school I.D. She takes both cards and looks at them. You glance down at her name tag as she continues typing in the computer looking up the information, noticing that it says Mina. Wasn’t she in the same class as Deku and Ground Zero, as a matter of fact all of Ground Zero’s old high school friend group work at this agency.

“Alright it looks like in here you have a meeting with the big guy for 1:00. He’s in a meeting right now and he should be out soon... hopefully. If you head to the top floor there is going to be a waiting lounge to your right once you get out.” Mina says, interrupting your thoughts. She gestures to the elevator and flashes a quick smile.

“Thank you so much” you smile back to her and head over to the elevator. Once you enter you notice just how many floors there are. I’d expect nothing less from the Number 2 hero. You click on the top floor and make your way up. Once the elevator hits the top floor you spot the waiting area and make your way over

. ~time skip~

The meeting Ground Zero was in went over schedule to say the least. It was currently 2:30 and you were still sitting in the lounge. Mina had even come up for her lunch break to keep you company once she found out the meeting was going over. Maybe I’ll just go with De- your thought was cut off by a door down the hall being opened.

You quickly stood up and fixed your skirt and looked at who exited the room. You soon recognized them as the Pro Heroes Deku and Ground Zero themselves. They start to walk down the hall towards where you am standing, still in conversation. Once they make it to where you was the green haired man notices in there and turns to you and smiles.

“You’re Y/N, from the Sports Festival right? I’m sorry I wasn't able to make our meeting this morning, as you can see now, something had come up. I do hope to reschedule and talk to you about joining my agency for your internship. You’re very talented with that quirk of yours.” Deku says to you. He then turns back to Ground Zero and says, “I really hope you change your mind Kacchan.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that you damn nerd.” Ground Zero glares back at the him at the nickname. Maybe it’s an inside joke? Deku chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that Bakugou. I do hope to hear from you though.” He turns away from him and back to you “And you too.” and with that he headed to the elevator. While watching him walk away you hadn’t even realized that the angry man that was once in front of you was no longer there. You look around to find him when you hear

“Oi are you coming or what?” come from the direction of where the two heroes had originally came from. You scramble to grab your stuff from next to couch and rush over to where he was holding open the door. As you walk in you mumble a thank you to which he only replies with “Tsk-” and then go to stand in the middle of the office. It was very spacious with all black furniture and state of the art technology. The office was surrounded with ceiling to floor windows that covered the three walls that lead to outside. A door was off to the left that lead to his rap-around balcony that you could sort of see due to the half open blinds.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take a seat?” Bakugou says while seating behind his desk, grabbing a file that was put off to the side. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk, placing your bag on the floor next to your feet. Looking up you can see him going through what you believe is to be your academic file. You take the moment to look at who you could possibly be interning with. He was quite handsome... and by handsome I mean fucking hot. His blond hair was slightly messing from what you could assume was from his prior meeting and was starting to fall in front of his deep crimson eyes. He slightly bits his lip focusing on the paperwork in front of him, those same intense eye darting back and forth. Your eyes start to travel down his torso to see that his black button up had the top few buttons undone. Then to his arms seeing that the fabric on his sleeve is tightly accentuating the muscles trapped inside of them. Hell the whole shirt was tight on him and you can’ t tell if it was because the shirt was a size to small or he was just that built. His hands start flipping through the file and you catch him lick his finger to help turn the page. You shouldn’t find someone flipping a paper this attractive but seeing the way his long fingers curl around the page sends a chill down your spine. You start thinking about the things those hands could probably do, and you press your legs together so that you can try to ignore the warm feeling that was starting to build. I have to be professional! Behind him you could see a discarded tie and a suit jacket that was probably on him at some point of the day. I wonder how intense his last meeting had to be in order for him to start stripping. What would have happened if it had continued? You’re interrupted by your thoughts once again by him speaking.

“So it looks like here that your first year in the Sports Festival you only had made it into the calvary battle, your second year you had only made it passed the first round in the battle tournament and then this year you finally managed to place 2nd. While I will say you’ve improved a lot, how do I know that what you did this year at the Festival wasn’t just a fluke and that you are actually talented enough to be one of my sidekicks?” He places the file down on the table looking up at you with one brow quirked. You pause in shock but shake out of it, not to sure why you were shocked though, he’s the 2nd best hero so of course he’d only accept the best in as his sidekick. You looked down at your lap but quickly brought it up when you heard him clear his throat.

“Well I-I think t-that it shows just how m-much I have improved over my time at UA and h-how much I more I could improve at your a-agency.” you stutter under his intense stare. Get it together! I press my hands together and hold the edge of your skirt trying to calm yourself.

“Yet I’m not the only company you’re interested in interning with am I?” He questions you while standing up from his desk. As he walked around to front of his desk he continued talking, “Your first choice was with that damn nerd. So tell me, why should I take you in if your showing such interest in him?” He sits in front of you on the edge of his desk. You took a deep breath in so that you could get your next sentence out with some form of confidence, even if you had to fake it.

“I actually was originally only interested in trying to get and internship here, as I think that I would be able to develop my quirk and fighting skills better here. But it wouldn’t have been smart to keep my options so limited so I made sure to check out his agency as well, seeing as he’s the Number One-” you quickly got interrupted by a loud slam causing you to let out a squeal.

“Don’t- Fucking- Say- It. It’s bad enough I gotta hear it all over the news and from the idiot himself. I’m not going to be hearing it again and that gonna be your only warning.” Crimson eyes glare into you. You swallow the lump in you throat and squeeze your thighs harder together, suddenly getting very warm. He takes in a deep breath as to calm himself down. He pauses before going to ask his next question.

“Can you explain your quirk a little bit” he looks back, running his hand through his hair, waiting for you response.

“Oh yeah. My quirk is called Atmokinesis. I’m able to control weather but after some intense training I’m starting to be able to work on the individual elements that go into each type of weather. So far I’m really good with lightning, water and air but I think I struggle most with the raw power behind fire, which is why I thought it’d be really good for me to intern here seeing how good you are with controlling your explosion quirk.” you explain to him and you see him start to smirk at the indirect complement.

“Well you fucking got that right.” he scoffed “What made you want to become a hero?” he asked. It sounding like these where prewritten questions used on everyone who sat in this chair. You laugh a little and respond

“I feel like my reason is the same as most. When I was little I was obsessed with All Might and I always told my parents that I was going to be just like him. They pushed me toward that dream and helped me along the way. Although I will say when All Might had to retire I think is when I made up my mind for sure. I knew that the world was going to need more heroes out there to replace the symbol of peace.” I smile a little thinking back to the fond memories of my childhood. and continue “but then again I guess he’s sorta been replaced huh? Seeing as how Deku has such a similar power to the great hero-”

“I thought I fucking warned you about talking about him” your eyes snap to his crimson ones as you realized what you had said. The anger on his face prevalent from hearing about the status of his rival.

“I-I’m so sorry I-I didn’t mean to I swear I had just forgot about-”

“Shut up” His voice cuts you off. You look down at my lap hoping to avoid his gaze. I just blew this interview. He leans up from his desk and walks over to your chair.

“Stand up, I’m going to show you something” his voice much deeper than It was just moments before making your knees week. You look up at him in confusion but realize he was probably kicking you out. You stand up, your head hung low as you go to reach for your bag when you’re stopped by his hand grabbing your wrist. You go to look up but when you do he starts leading you toward the door. As you go to start apologizing again he stops you both at a display case that was next to his door.

“What do you see” He lets go of your wrist and takes a step behind me so that I can get a proper look at the case.

You look and see a key to the city that is given to each of the top 10 heroes, A few trophies for various achievements and a lot of medals from his time at UA. On the wall next to the case you could see various newspaper clippings from major accomplishments he achieved. Top ten most successful 20 year old's, his first appearance in the newspaper, his first solo debut, and many more including some of his most difficult wins.

“What you see there is the work of a real hero not some god damn wanna be you got that?” you jump as you feel his hot breath against your ear, you shiver as chills cover your arms. You turn around to face him and start backing up when you notice how close we are.

“I’m really sorry sir, I really didn’t mean to bring Deku back up, I had just gotten carried away and I-” you look back when your back hits the wall next to the display case. But your head quickly whips back around when you feel heat in front of you. You let out a gasp as his hands slam on the wall on either side of your head. His head dipping into the crook of your neck.

“You better listen to me now. The only name that’s going to be coming out of those pretty little lips of yours is mine... you got that princess?” your eyes widen when you hear his request. His lips trail along your neck the warm sensation making you whimper. He continues moving around as if looking for something.

“I don't understa-” a moan slips out as he kisses a certain spot on your neck. You feel him smirk against your neck as he found what he wanted. His hands move front the wall, one finding there way to you hip, the other to the door right next to you and you hear it click. He locked it. He moved back up to you ear and growled

“Don’t think I didn’t see you earlier, checking me out and squeezing your thighs, this is probably exactly what you were thinking of, isn’t that right. I want you to tell me what it was that was going through that dirty little mind of yours.” your body shakes and you’re left there speechless, but you try to pull yourself together.

“I was thinking about your h-hands and how your long fingers curve a-and the things you could do with them.” you stutter as you feel his hands travel further down and start to hike up your skirt as you tell his about your lewd thoughts, his hands assaulting your thighs, sliding his rough hands up them toward your now throbbing core. You let out a moan when his thumb rubs against your clothed clit, damp with your own slick.

“Look at you, soaking wet just thinking about me. dirty little slut. I haven't even done anything to you yet you’re all ready for me.” He pushes aside your underwear and runs his finger up your core, gathering it all on his finger. “so fucking wet” he groans against your neck more to himself.

He digs his finger knuckle deep into you causing you to gasp but it’s quickly cut off by his mouth meeting yours. His tongue entering you mouth to prove to you his dominance. He slowly starts pumping his finger in and out, catching you by surprise when you feel his second finger stretch you out. Every time his finger enters you, you can feel him curl it up too hit your spot. A breathy moan leaves your lips as you feel a knot start to build in your core.

“Fu-uck Bakugou” you let out as you feel the tingling sensation start to take over your body, your hands traveling up to his hair so you could have something to grab onto.

“Call me Katsuki” He smirks at you increasing his speed of his assault on you, knowing how close you are. Just as you felt yourself almost come undone he pulls his fingers out making you let out a whine at the loss of contact. You felt so empty and you knew you needed him to fill you up.

“P-please Katsuki I need you” you mewl moving your head to his jaw, kiss down to his neck stopping right underneath his ear. You pause when you hear him let out a groan. You start to lick and nibble at the spot needing to hear that sound come out of him again. “I want to feel you fill me up”

“Fuck that's it, jump” His hand on the back of your thighs. You do as he says and jump, rapping your legs around his hips, his hard on pressed against you. You shuttered at the size of it, even through his pants you could tell just how big it was. You brought your mouth back to meet his as your tongues battle for dominance, this kiss so much more passionate than before.

He walks the two of you over to his desk placing you down on it. Your hands make their way from his hair to his shirt to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. You place your hand on his chest feeling his muscles while his hands move up from you thighs to the edge of your shirt. You comply with his silent demand by taking of your shirt while he undoes the clip on your bra causing the garments to fall to ground. He pulls you off the desk.

“Turn around for me” You look him in the eyes, confusion all over your face. “Did I fuckin stutter? Now be a good girl and do as your told.” you immediately turn around, feeling his hands go to the zipper of your skirt pulling down, taking his time to squeeze your ass as he passes it. His hands suddenly leave your body as he whispers in your ear “There you go, close your eyes and don't move okay babygirl.”

You hear his foot steps leave you and you hear rustling from somewhere in his office. It goes quiet and you were about to open your eyes when a pair of hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back. You open your eyes as you feel a soft fabric get tied around them. You turn around to see Katsuki wrapping his discarded tie that you saw earlier. Him biting his lip focusing on knotting it tight. You feel him put his hand on your back and push you against his desk. Pressed against your back his breath hits your ear.

“I want to hear you beg for me, I’m going to have you screaming for me to stop. When I’m finished with you, you’re not even going to remember that damn nerd’s name, I can promise you that.”

He roughly pulls down your underwear and goes to remove his own pants and boxers. You hear ruffling of plastic and look back to watch him slide on a condom, slick running down your legs as you get a view for how massive he was. He aligns his tip with your entrance rubbing it up your folds gathering your juice.

“So wet, just for me” he groans as he pushes himself inside of you. You let out a loud moan as he fills you up, your eyes tearing up as he stretching you out. “F-fuck you’re so tight Y/N”

“P-please Kat-suki move, I-I need more” That aching feeling returning to your core.

“Ask and you shall receive” He pulls out of you and then slams back into you, only slowly moving at first before picking up his speed. His hips hitting your ass as he fill you out, every thrust making your knees week. All you wanted to do was run his hands through his hair, run them down his back, hold his arms, touch every inch of him, but his tie restricted you adding to your neediness. You whimper as his hand comes down on your ass, a warm sting traveling across your cheek.

“I-I’m getting cl-close, can I please t-touch you?” Barely able to form your sentence due to the pure pleasure overwhelming your body.

“I don’t know if a dirty slut like you deserves it” He lets out an almost animalist growl.

“I promise I’ll behave j-just P-PLEASE” the last part of your sentence coming out louder from him slamming into you hard and stopping.

“Well when you say it like that..” His hand moves to your wrists untying them while still giving you shallow thrusts. You aren’t even able to wrap your head around how he’s still able to keep up such a pace. You’re taken out of your trusts when he flips you over so you can now see his flushed face, hair sticking to his forehead as he stares into your eyes. You are quick to throw your hands into his hair and connect your lips. Tongues fighting for dominance as you pull on his hair at the nape of his neck making him let out a deep moan. He presses you back down against his desk and slams himself back into you. Now it was your turn to let out a moan. You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing his to get deeper in you.

“F-FUCK” He slams into your G-spot hard and you know that at this rate you wont last long. And by the way you clench around him, Katsuki knew that too.

“Oh you like it like that? Fuck- filling you up like this? You take me so well princess, it’s like your pussy is made just for me” He’s kissing your neck desperately wanting to hear you scream out his name.

“Ooh Katsuki I’m-” the intense heat building up in your core becoming almost to much.

“Cum for me baby girl” he purrs into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive neck. Hearing his deep voice say that sent you over board, Lightning shooting up from your toes to your core, spreading out from there. A loud moan leaves your mouth as euphoria rushes over your body. His trusts start to get sloppy watching you fall apart beneath him.

“F-fuck Y/N” He groans out your name as he comes undone as well, his seed spilling out into the condom, feeling the warmth through the thin plastic.

He pulls out of you as you both attempt to catch your breath. He leans down to you mouth giving you a kiss, much different from earlier sending butterflies to your stomach as you feel the passion in this kiss instead of just lust. He breaks the kiss to remove the piece of plastic and put on his clothes and you do the same. You start fixing your hair as you stand infront of where his desk is flustered by what just happened. You look up, your eyes meeting his crimson ones as he smiles at you. You return a shy smile back at him before looking toward the floor. He walks over to you and lifts your chin up with his finger. A smirk on his face as he says

“Your internship starts on Monday. Don’t be late.”

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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Controversial take, but vol. 6 is the worst season bc its built entirely around fan service. Qrow's letter (IQ was popular), Ruby's proactivity, backstory at last, Ozpin's awful treatment, Bees, killing Adam, adults suck(tm), even Penny's return... just saving throws to keep RWBY alive. So everything failed in 7/8 bc fans thought they had been shown beats that mattered, but CRWBY never added those into their actual plan. Since vol. 6 began its all been misdirect, no one knows what to look at.

Putting aside my own very personal desire to not treat Ozpin and Oscar like that (because that’s where the bulk of my criticism stems from), I think Volume 6 is only a bad season retroactively. The concept of fan service isn’t inherently a problem, especially if the desire for certain things stems from the fans recognizing why that would be good for the show. People tend to reduce fan service to a purely negative thing, produced to appease the “rabid” fanbase, but fans aren’t pulling things they want out of a hat. They’re recognizing what things the story has lost (can our main character make decisions again?), what the story has intentionally or even unintentionally set up (these characters have great chemistry!), and what things might keep the story feeling fresh moving forward (maybe we need new combat ideas, like semblance upgrades). And that’s largely what Volume 6 is made up of, following the highly criticized Volume 5: a whole bunch of changes that were meant to both reintroduce what made RWBY great before and breathe some new life into a six year show.

Our title protagonist should have agency again, so Ruby starts making decisions. We really should know more about this world and the quest they’re on, so we get an entire episode devoted to lore. We need to make the grimm a threat again, so we introduce the Apathy. Penny, as an android, always had a good chance of coming back, so let’s do that in Volume 7, originally meant to appear in Volume 6. It’s not fans’ love of a character demanding that the story sacrifice something (like logic) to meet that desire, it’s fans picking up on the internal logic of the story (androids can be rebuilt) and extrapolating possibilities. Now, we’re seeing the same work going into Volume 9. The frustration that Jaune fell into the void in part stems from recognizing that our main team hasn’t had much development lately and has been separated a lot since Volume 3/sharing time with JNOR, resulting in few Team RWBY moments. A desire to make Sun a significant part of the Vacuo arc stems from the knowledge that he’s there, he was formerly an important character, he’s friends with our other characters, and it would overall make sense to incorporate him into this part of the story. Hoping that Qrow and Robyn get their own adventure stems from a desire to keep the story internally consistent (please don’t have them arrive in Vacuo within a day when the Atlas citizens supposedly couldn’t just fly off to safety) while the hope that they’ll be set aside entirely until Volume 10 comes from recognizing that our cast is bloated and we need to pare things down.

So much in Volume 6--giving us lore, introducing a SEW mentor, even acknowledging their headmaster’s mistakes to try and forward the protagonists’ growth--wasn’t bad on its own, but the execution failed horribly for some parts during the volume (Ozpin) and, more importantly, everything else petered out. As you say, the fans, myself included, had all assumed that this was going somewhere, but across two volumes we realized that RT didn’t actually know what to do with these plot points, they just threw them out and then... nothing. Things were either dropped or changed because they never had a real chance to begin with. How many times were we reassured that the group was going to reconsider their position with Ozpin and there would be a whole arc of growth, ending in heartfelt apologies on both sides? Just wait! Two years later, there was no development, no mention of it, and only one, quick apology to scoot that plot point off screen. How many times were we reassured that Penny was coming into her own and that resurrecting her/making her the Maiden was the beginning of a long, fulfilling journey? Just wait! Two years later, she had the powers for two days in-world, had her android identity stripped away, and then died again. The concept of new grimm didn’t have an impact because our group wasn’t fighting them in the Battle of Atlas/they killed the Hound in an episode, Maria as a mentor means nothing because she’s forgotten by the group and then literally forgotten by the story, Qrow’s relationship with Ironwood is tossed out for a kill threat that was then also tossed out for him to fight Harriet instead. It doesn’t feel like they planned any of this. The vast majority of what’s introduced in Volume 6 has no meaning or payoff. In reality, most things are actively contradicted by what comes next. What’s the point of establishing the horror of keeping the Salem secret if Ruby’s just going to turn around and keep it herself? What’s the point of establishing that the Lamp attracts grimm if that’s not going to impact Oscar carrying it around? What’s the point of spending a whole volume with Ironwood trusting them only to make him a cartoon villain at the start of the next? What’s the point of spending a volume emphasizing how much Nora cares for Mantle only for her to go start up Amity instead? What’s the point of Ren questioning their choices and supporting Ironwood if he’s just going to reverse course once his semblance upgrades? And on and on and on. Ideas don’t just disappear, the cast frequently does the opposite of what they should if those ideas had ever mattered.

The worst part is, I’m still seeing so many fans pushing the “You just have to wait” argument. The conversation surrounding Emerald is nearly beat for beat the conversation surrounding Ozpin. Sure, things were pretty rushed and the emotion of the scenes was all one note… but that won’t last! Just wait until next season when Emerald’s redemption takes center stage. And then if that doesn’t happen there will be lots of excuses—this was the spirit world volume, we’re not supposed to be focusing on Vacuo yet—with further confidence that it will all come to a head in Volume 10. And then when Emerald either dies or is left behind by the plot, those fans will realize across Volumes 8-10 that RT isn’t writing a planned, cohesive story, the same way we realized that across Volumes 6-8. The fan service itself isn’t the problem, it’s that RT introduced a ton of ideas—ideas the fans obviously wanted—and then didn’t have any idea what to do with them.

#rwby #mymetas #Anonymous

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padawanlost · 4 years ago

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Hey love your content.

Just wanted to ask you something. There's a claim I've seen coming up in fandom a few times now that Obi Wan knew Luke would bring his father back to the light and redeem him. That he even planned as much and this is supposedly evidenced by his not killing Vader in A New Hope and telling Luke to face Vader but not kill him in Return of the Jedi

I'm not convinced, but can you offer a more conclusive answer rebuttal or whatever.

I’ll be honest with you, this is the first time I’ve ever heard such theory so I’ve no idea where it came from or what arguments are being used to support it. All I can show you is the OT itself. The movies make pretty clear that Obi-wan and Yoda were preparing Luke to kill Darth Vader, and that Anakin’s return was something considered impossible until that point.

Because I don’t keep track of DisneySW, all the evidence I provided is strictly based on the original canon, as developed by George Lucas. So if Disney retconned something, I won’t be able to help :)

That being said, that theory doesn’t make much sense to me, sorry. For Anakin’s redemption to be part of some Obi-wan’s master plan, the character would have to have an impossible foresight into everyone’s involved past and future. For Obi-wan to be able to manipulate people and events to push Anakin’s into going back to light, he would first have to understand why Anakin fell in the first place. And if there’s one thing Episode III makes painfully obvious is that Obi-wan was nowhere near Coruscant when Anakin made his fatal decision, nor was he aware of the circumstances that led him to it. Everyone who knew what truly went down were either dead or his new worst enemies.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at Obi-wan’s (alleged) ‘master plan’:

In Episode IV, we have Obi-wan openly lying to Luke about where he came from and dueling Vader (literary to the death). Not exactly the actions of a man who wants the son to save the father’s life.

In Episode V Obi-wan tells Luke not even Yoda had the power or skill required to see into the future of Han and Leia. Considering they were captured by one of the most even being in the galaxy, it wouldn’t be that hard to guess their future did not look pretty.

Luke: But, Han and Leia will die if I don't. Obi-Wan: You don't know that. Even Yoda cannot see their fate.

The idea here is tied to an important concept in SW: free will. The characters are fundamentally free to make their own choices. Anakin, despite being manipulated by Palpatine, ultimately made his own bed. This is true to all of them. Palpatine’s ‘master plan’ wasn’t about controlling people into doing what he wanted, it was using their own nature against them. He nudged them into the making poor decisions, he never stripped them of their agency.

Obi-Wan: It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer. Luke: That's why I have to go. Obi-Wan: Luke. I don't want to lose you to the Emperor, the way I lost Vader. Luke: You won't. Yoda: Stopped, they must be. On this, all depends. Only a fully trained Jedi Knight, with the Force as his ally, will conquer Vader and his Emperor. If you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil. Obi-Wan: Patience. [...] Obi-Wan: If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere.

Unless you see Obi-wan as a manipulative, cruel person who wants an untrained Luke to face two of the most powerful beings in the galaxy alone for his own personal, secret plan, I’d say the movie is pretty clear in showing us that neither Yoda nor Obi-wan want Luke to face Vader at that point. If the plan was to get Luke to going, wouldn’t have been easier to just let him go instead of creating an huge argument about it? Hell, they are willing throw Han and Leia under the bus to keep Luke from leaving. If that wasn’t shady enough now we are supposed to believe that was part of an even worst scheme involving pretty much everyone?

Yoda: Told you I did. Reckless, is he. Now... matters are worse. Obi-Wan: That boy is our last hope. Yoda: No. There is another.

Yeah, it doesn’t sound like using Luke to redeem Vader was their ultimate goal here.

There are some pretty big holes in that theory in terms of character development and narrative structure. I know everyone loves the idea of Vader and Obi-wan having some badass duel in ANH but the truth is Vader had spent the last 20 years training and killing pretty much all kinds of enemies imagine while Obi-wan mediated on Tatooine as grew shockingly old for his age.

As proven on Mustafar, raw power only takes you so far. Anakin has always been much, much more powerful than Obi-wan but in the end Obi-wan won because of skill, training and discipline. Unfortunately, for Obi-wan, he didn’t get much training in his isolation. He couldn’t have because he was in hiding! If that wasn’t enough, the EU confirms that Obi-wan sacrificed himself to allow Luke to scape. There was no secret plan.

Obi-Wan risked a glance through the hangar’s open doorway and saw four stormtroopers guarding the Falcon. He also sensed that Luke was nearby. Hoping to cause a distraction that would allow Luke to board the Falcon, he attacked Vader more vigorously. The noise of clashing lightsabers echoed into the hangar, attracting the stormtroopers’ attention. With his peripheral vision, Obi-Wan saw the stormtroopers leave their stations beside the Falcon and run toward him and Vader. He continued his attack on Vader, and several exchanges later, he sensed Luke’s movement and knew his plan had worked. He risked another glance into the hangar to see several figures racing for the Falcon’s landing ramp: the droids, Chewbacca, Han Solo, Luke, and — Leia! Obi-Wan hadn’t known that Princess Leia was on the battle station, but he recognized the girl in the white dress from the hologram that R2-D2 had displayed. Obi-Wan did not believe in luck or coincidences, and seeing Luke unwittingly reunited with his twin sister, he knew that it was not a tractor beam that had brought him to the battle station, but the will of the Force. His fleeting glance also registered that Luke had paused behind his friends. Luke stood a short distance from the landing ramp and was staring straight at him, gaping. Obi-Wan realized there was only one way Luke, Leia, and the others would escape the battle station alive. He smiled as he looked away from Luke, then closed his eyes and raised his lightsaber up before him. Darth Vader did not hesitate to strike. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Imo, this theory ruins the character of Obi-wan by making him pretty much omniscient and way more powerful and manipulative than he was in canon. Obi-wan wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t palpatine level of manipulative either. He had no ‘grand plan’ beyond using Luke to kill vader and save the galaxy in a desperate attempt to save the galaxy.

On top of that, let’s remember that Obi-wan had no hope left for Anakin. He did not believe Anakin could be redeemed after Mustafar. If you do not believe md, believe George Lucas.

After the first complete take, Lucas and McGregor discuss when he should say each line: “As you watch Anakin slide down, how about if you take one step forward,” Lucas Suggests. “For a moment, you think about it. Your first impulse is to save him – but then you realize you can’t”. As the takes multiply and the actors find their rhythm and emotions, the scene becomes more and more powerful. Christensen yells “I hate you!”. McGregor says, “I love you. But I will not help you”. Lucas explains that what Obi-wan’s really saying to Anakin is: “Your were our only hope and you blew it. Now we don’t have any hope”. Take. After Anakin implores Obi-wan to save him, George asks Ewan to say “I will not…” softer, almost to himself. Take. “After he burst into flames,” Lucas directs, “it’s as if you’re talking to a dead person. To a piece of toast”. He suggests, to drive home this point, that McGregor change the words in the script to the past tense, “I loved you.” The actor acquiesces, but points out that his subsequent line would have to change to “But I could not help you.” Lucas agrees, and Tenggren alters the script accordingly.[ The Making of ROTS]

Another thing that George is very clear about is that Luke is the one who redeems Anakin.

It really has to do with learning. Children teach you compassion. They teach you to love unconditionally. Anakin can’t be redeemed for all the pain and suffering he’s caused. He doesn’t right the wrongs, but he stops the horror. The end of the saga is simply Anakin saying, I care about this person [Luke], regardless of what it means to me. I will throw away everything that I have, everything that I’ve grown to love - primarily the Emperor - and throw away my life, to save this person. And I’m doing it because he has faith in me; he loves me despite all the horrible things I’ve done. I broke his mother’s heart, but he still cares about me, and I can’t let that die. Anakin is very different in the end. The thing of it is: the prophecy was right. Anakin was the chosen one, and he does bring balance to the Force. He takes the ounce of good still left in him and destroys the Emperor out of compassion for his son. [ GEORGE LUCAS - THE MAKING OF REVENGE OF THE SITH; PAGE 221.]

This brings us back about what I said earlier about narrative structure. This is Luke’s story. Obi-wan is the mentor, that’s it. It’s Luke’s actions, Luke’s choices. To suddenly reveal that everything happened was the result of Obi-wan’s plan would be narrative equivalent of a slap in the face. We watched Luke’s hero journey only to find out his journey was a lie and his choices weren’t really his own. How disappointing!

Not only that but redemption comes from within. Even if Obi-wan had planned for everything, Anakin would need to WANT to change. and knowing it was Luke’s selfless actions that drove Anakin into killing Palpatine, suddenly finding out an ulterior motive behind Luke’s actions (beyond the character’s own goodness) would diminish the weight of Anakin own choices.

But, again, Obi-wan couldn’t have planned for Anakin to return to the light because he didn’t even believe one could be redeemed after such evils.

Obi-Wan’s spirit was invisible but present when Luke arrived in the Endor system, where the Empire had constructed a new Death Star battle station. When Luke surrendered to Darth Vader on the Endor forest moon, he listened as Luke maintained his belief that a remnant of Anakin Skywalker remained within Vader and had not been entirely consumed by evil. Luke urged his father to let go of his hate. Vader said, “It is too late for me, son.” Then he signaled to two stormtroopers to escort Luke to a waiting shuttle that would carry them to the Death Star. As the stormtroopers moved up behind Luke, Vader added, “The Emperor will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your Master now.” Luke stared at Vader for a moment before he said, “Then my father is truly dead.” Obi-Wan’s spirit wished he had convinced Luke of this fact earlier. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Even as they fought, Obi-wan didn’t believe Luke could save Anakin. It was only after witnessing Palpatine’s demise he started to realize what it meant.

Obi-Wan knew that Vader would never help, and he felt almost overwhelmed by a sense of dread. Luke would soon be dead, and Vader would remain the Emperor’s puppet. In fact, Obi-Wan was so convinced of Vader’s nature that he was stunned by what happened next. Vader grabbed the Emperor and lifted him off his feet. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Had Obi-Wan’s spirit not witnessed Vader’s action, he never would have believed it. Vader, the same monster that Obi-Wan had left to die on Mustafar, had sacrificed himself to save his son. And suddenly Obi-Wan realized where he had failed. For unlike Luke, Obi-Wan had not only believed that Anakin was completely consumed by the dark side, but had actually refused to believe that any goodness could have remained within Vader. [Ryder Windham. The Life and Legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Btw, in ROTJ, Obi-wan doesn’t try to talk Luke out of killing Vader. In fact, the oppositve of that happens:

Luke Skywalker: There is still good in him. Obi-Wan: He's more machine now than man. Twisted and evil. Luke Skywalker: I can't do it, Ben. Obi-Wan: You cannot escape your destiny. You must face Darth Vader again. Luke Skywalker: I can't kill my own father. Obi-Wan: Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope.

Star Wars, at its core, has a very simple message about love and the power it has over people. in the end, the good guys won because they were good, not because they were being guided there by some powerful guy. In the end, it was love that won the war and saved the day. Everyone’s love. Luke’s love for Anakin, Anakin’s love for Luke, Han’s love for Leia, etc. Selfless love makes better people and good people do good things. It’s not about manipulating actions, people or even knowing everything. In fact, I’d say it’s the appositive.

Luke didn’t know he could save Vader, but he tried anyway and that’s what makes him a hero. It’s the not knowing but having faith in someone out of love, faith they can be better than they are. That’s what saves the world. It’s not knowing everything and still acting out love and compassion.

Anyway, I honestly don’t know where this idea of Obi-wan knowing Anakin’s future and planning for it came from. But I do know it’s not supported by the movies, the EU or George himself.

#ask #englishlady #what if #obi wan kenobi #sw meta #meta: fandom #txt #meta: anakin #meta: obi wan

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for-i-am-dying-of-such-love · 4 years ago

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that time I watched Antony + Cleopatra

I don’t even know where to start with this one. Please don’t mistake my criticism of the episode with my hating it, because I actually think there’s a lot going on here with Xena (and Gabrielle too, but I am less focused on her arc) that’s quite nuanced and compelling. I love that Xena’s role in orchestrating Marc Antony’s downfall contributes to her moral and emotional conflict. What I abhor (and refuse to accept) is the suggestion that it’s born out of her falling in *love* with him, especially when there are far more consequential things in Xena’s life, past and present, fueling her angst in this moment. I have my own reading of what’s causing Xena’s uneasiness here, but more on that in a bit.

First: I think my greatest frustration is with the show itself. Like, THE FUCKING AUDACITY to foist a Boyfriend of the Week on us with just a handful of episodes left in season five. After everything, *everything*, that Xena & Gabrielle have suffered through (actual, literal HELL), and the continued devotion they show for one another, it’s just not believable that Xena would fall in love with someone else, let alone a ROMAN GENERAL. The emphasis here is important, but patience grasshopper, I’ll get to that.

Now, here’s where we start to get into the weeds with this notion of ‘Xena falling in love’ and there’s a lot to unpack around it, but before I do, let me just finish unspooling the threads of frustration I have with the show and it’s AUDACITY. Because it’s important to note that the show’s intention *was* to frame Xena’s attraction for Marc Antony as romantic - on top of whatever else she may have initially felt (indifference, intrigue, lust) - and not just sexual. And while I’ll concede that a story where Xena is forced to sacrifice her heart for the greater good by killing the man she loves is intriguing, it’s one we’ve already seen (Immortal Beloved). More than that, it’s a story that doesn’t fit with the Xena we know now, and the show, better than anyone, should have recognized this.

I know I’m being hard on the show runners here, so allow me this small tangent to give a little contextual understanding before furthering my arguments. As much fun as it is wrestling with the internal logic of this show (a surprisingly uphill battle all the time), I understand the unfortunate truth is that character motivations don’t always drive the story in the ways you would expect. Sometimes external factors complicate the stories XWP wants to tell and the ways it’s *allowed* to tell them. I get that.

I also get that Xena: Warrior Princess - both the show and the character - was expected to be sexy (hello, an easy win because Xena & Gabrielle). And that means, from time to time, it had to tease the audience with sex and seduction and romance (I guess fighting demons in Hell for the soul of your SOULMATE is not romantic enough, but I DIGRESS). What that often translated as on screen was a parade of Boyfriends of the Week for our two favourite Gal Pals, and by this point in the show, well, frankly it had been a while since Xena had had her a boyfriend (the Ares arc in season 5 doesn’t count). Simply put: a Marc Antony type was past due.

In this case, he wasn’t just past due, he served a dual purpose - fulfilling their Boyfriend of the Week quota, but also helping to re-establish Xena’s sexuality after she’d had her baby. I happen to think the latter take is overly simplistic and misguided (because, what, pregnant women are not also capable of being sexual creatures?), but it’s something Rob Tapert has commented on. So, ok, sure, fine whatever.

To be fair, I’m not sure if the show was deliberately signalling the return of Sexualized!Xena, or if it was simply a byproduct of the chemistry between the characters, and the inherent sensuality of the story’s setting. Regardless, the end result was certainly titillating. And I get it. I get why they want Boyfriends of the Week sometimes. Sex sells, and this episode was a blockbuster.

And before I return again to being hard on the show runners about dumb boyfriends, I just want to point out that my specific problem isn’t that Xena has been given a *boy*friend. Xena is bisexual, so men are always going to be an option when she’s considering a romantic or sexual partner. My issue is that she’s considering *any* romantic partner at all! By the gods, she’s essentially married to Gabrielle at this point.

Ay, but there’s the rub. Because the same expectation that dictated XWP should be sexy, also dictated that it should be heteronormative. The show can repeatedly double down on Xena’s & Gabrielle’s emotional and spiritual fidelity but it can never be seen explicitly to be sexual too (just a reminder, I haven’t seen S6 yet). That’s the unfortunate and uncomfortable reality of television in the late 90s and early 00s.

But this is where I take umbrage: XWP may’ve been limited (by studio notes) to giving us a chalk outline of what Xena’s & Gabrielle’s relationship really looked like, but they most definitely had the ability to control how they coloured the relationships Xena & Gabrielle had with their Boyfriends of the Week. And again, in ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ the show chose to frame it as a love story, a romance, when simply playing it off as Xena’s libido run amok would have satisfied the episode’s need for sex appeal, while also honouring the fact that her heart has long been spoken for (don’t worry: taking Xena’s heart out of the equation won’t lessen her moral or emotional conflict any - I’m getting there!).

Because here’s the thing: Xena getting caught up in the heady thrill of a seduction play, especially with a man as attractive and powerful as Marc Antony is totally believable. And really, Xena taken in by *lust* makes sense, especially at this point in her life. I mean, it’s been a while since she’s had to play this seductive cat-and-mouse game (Ares doesn’t count) and maybe she’s forgotten how easy it is to slip into this character, how much fun it can be. Maybe it’s even a little liberating - this return to form from when she was wild and free - because a lot has changed since she last had to do this; she’s changed and in ways she never anticipated. She’s settled down, even if she’s still travelling the known world. Made a commitment to Gabrielle to share a life together, had a baby, and now the three of them are carving out their own little domestic sphere. And all of this is happening while she’s still reconciling the person she was before with the person she is now. Maybe she’s a little itchy.

Because this… this tension, the cadence of a feint and parry charm offensive, it’s familiar. Comfortable in a way she didn’t know she missed until she felt it again. It would be easy to see her drunk with dark delight, to momentarily lose sight of her head. It would be believable. What’s not believable is that she - a pragmatist - would ever lose sight of her heart. Because the stakes of the game are so high, for Egypt but also for her. (And for you in the back who’s clearly read ahead on the syllabus and is about to point out Xena’s checkered romantic history and her self-proclaimed soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools - don’t worry, we’ll get there too.)

What I’m taking a generous amount of time to say is this: if they simply wanted to give us a lush and sexy episode, they could have delivered on the sexiness without attaching it to a love story! We are long past believing Xena only kisses people she’s in love with, or that she’s in love with all the people she kisses. There’s no need to pretend her sexual agency is only relevant or operational within the confines of a romantic plot line. But more than that, throwing an unbelievable romance into the mix really only serves to threaten the integrity of Xena’s motivations, because it risks reducing the entirety of her turmoil to: Xena loses another boyfriend, how le sad. And that is absolutely not the point.

Because the point is this: Rome fucking corrupts and perverts everything it touches. And Xena’s motivations are built from her (and now Gabrielle’s) tortured history with the empire and the men who run it. And if you’ll permit me, like 4,000 words, we can get into it and, hopefully, you’ll agree that shit is heavy enough on Xena’s mind without a ‘star-crossed lovers’ storyline. Remember, it was only a year ago that they both were nailed up by Romans and left to die under a cold, grey sky at the foot of Mount Amaro. That cross alone, and the long shadow it casts, is more than capable of supporting the dramatic weight of this episode, never mind the crosses that came before it.

So, I can’t overstate the importance of Xena’s past connection with Caesar and Rome. It informed so much of who Xena was to become, as a cruel and bloodthirsty warlord, and then later, as a warrior fighting for good. Even now, after Caesar’s death, that connection is still informing her. It will never stop. And, Rome will never be absolved of its sins against Xena & Gabrielle. There’s simply too much trauma in that shared past. Trauma that‘s telegraphed onto every interaction Xena has with Rome and its strongmen going forward.

And it’s exactly the reason Xena would never fall in love with Marc Antony. She might well lust after his body, but she will never pine for his devotion. Because, even in that moment under the stars when he is just a man with his chest cracked open, offering up to her his heart, beating strong and hungry in want of her affection, she can’t help but see the hardened, black veins where the love of Rome - like a creeping scourge - has left its vile mark. Of course she recognizes it, her own heart bore the same disease. A gift from Caesar. The pretty boy with his pretty words and his pretty promises, who so subtly disarmed Xena and then skillfully stripped away her defences until she had bared her heart to him. Who didn’t hesitate to flay it with a knife of her own making, it’s blade poisoned with his love for Rome.

He did not take her heart - sometimes she wished he had - but left it to rot in her chest, slow and angry. And it nearly destroyed her. Nearly drained her of every ounce of humanity she had left, as hatred and spite and cold brutality filled her up instead. He had weaponized Xena’s affection for him and used it against her and she was forever changed. In that singular moment she saw Caesar, and Rome - because Caesar was Rome and Rome was Caesar and they were one and the same - for what they truly were: insidious and unrepentant in their calculated villainy. And she hated - not just the man who betrayed her, but the monster who nursed him with poisoned milk, and all the other strongmen who nursed at the same teat. Because in that moment too, Xena learned that all the men who kneeled before Rome and lusted after her glory were the same.

But she didn’t let her hatred go unproductive. She had been careless and imprudent in her dealings with Caesar, and nearly paid for it with her life. Except she survived and then thrived, in her own insidious, unrepentant, calculated villainy. And she never forgot what Caesar had done to her, how he had done it. She turned it over and over and over again in her mind. Studied it from every angle. Studied *him*. Until she knew how he thought, how he moved, where he was weak and unsuspecting. Until she knew every single one of his plays, and how best to counter them. Where and when to lay siege. A secret weapon she cultivated, not just to destroy the man who destroyed her heart, but to lay waste to all the fools who followed in his footsteps. She wouldn’t be taken in by Rome again.

And, to be fair, the episode doesn’t try to run from this history. It just doesn’t linger in it any longer than is necessary to give a brief nod to Brutus and the crucifixion (which is a shame, because it informs so much of both Xena’s & Gabrielle’s psychology, but we’re getting there!!!). Even still, Gabrielle’s first words are loaded with its legacy, if not also quiet resignation: “Are we really going to do this?” Because: Fuck! Rome, again? They’re only willing to go another round with Rome because of Cleopatra, only willing to embrace the ghosts this will stir up because they feel they owe it to a friend.

So, of course they’re going to do this. Only, it’s no longer about vengeance, at least not the white fury that once burned hot in Xena’s veins. This is different. Xena’s ire still seethes, but she doesn’t plan to wield it like a mighty sword, rather she’ll channel it with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel poised to excise a tumour, deliberate and clinical. The plotting is easy - Xena has a library of schemes stored away in the vast reserves of her grey matter - but made easier by the fact that she knows Caesar’s playbook so intimately. The man may be dead but he lives on in Rome and the hearts of all the faithful men who love her - proud and predictable. Puppets whose strings she knows she can deftly manoeuvre. The problem is that Xena’s too comfortable in her self-assuredness. Her plan and her assumptions of how Roman strongmen operate and her ability to manage everything is founded on her understanding of Caesar. And none of these men are the next Caesar. And it’s a problem, because this was supposed to be a quick and straightforward trip up the Nile to Memphis to do a little housekeeping on behalf of a friend and it’s been complicated by the fact that her pawns are not being cooperative.

This entire endeavour is not what she was expecting, Antony is not at all what she was expecting. He’s disarmingly handsome and charming, like many of Rome’s great strongmen, and their chemistry is electric - a bonus when you’re really trying to sell your part in a seduction play - but she realizes a little too late that the game she plays with him is not the one she had planned on. It’s actually much more dangerous.

And, I get that many fans believe Xena’s sexual attraction to Marc Antony is meant to telegraph an underlying romantic attraction as well. That as their physical encounters become more intimate and intense, so too must Xena’s feelings for him. And it’s easy to read it this way because Gabrielle’s own jealousy seems to reinforce the very idea, and Xena, herself, looks increasingly unsettled after each interaction. But I think it’s too simplistic an answer. Xena’s unease about Antony is growing because her plan has been frustrated by unforeseen hurdles, none of which include her falling in love with him. And Xena is frustrated in return.

We totally see this play out in Xena’s treatment of Gabrielle. She is curt and cool and dismissive (at least until their balcony talk), especially after Gabrielle puts a spectacular halt to Xena’s picnic with Marc Antony. But Xena’s distance here is not because she’s being defensive (at Gabrielle’s continued suggestions that she’s lost the plot), or because she’s angry for the interruption (ok, I’m sure there’s a very base part of Xena that *was* disappointed), or because she’s hurt (how could Gabrielle not have faith in her?). It may come across that way, but, really, Xena’s just acting out her frustrations.

Because this whole situation with Marc Antony, if a little intriguing at first, is irritating. And Xena’s frustrated. On many levels. The most obvious, and least surprising, being that Antony’s attentions have left her itchy and it’s distracting. And not because the chemistry between them has set off a chain reaction of romantic feelings for him - Xena is not spending her free time daydreaming about the man behind the General. It’s simply because there’s a kind of fire in her veins now that she wasn’t expecting to deal with this time out and it has the tendency to keep her on edge. And it’s not that she can’t handle it - spontaneous combustion is sometimes an occupational hazard when she’s playing at desire - it’s just that this particular element was not part of her plan.

That’s the real frustration: Xena’s not used to her plans being stymied. Her opening move - rolling herself, naked and chained, out from a carpet - though, brazen, should have been the perfect lure, should have painted her Cleopatra as an easy, if not unwilling, target for Antony’s ambitions. Because all Roman strongmen are the same: pretty boys with pretty words and pretty promises and pretty predictable tastes for cunning and seduction that they weaponize for the glory of Rome; heartless but for their love of res publica.

And so, this exact play is one Xena is confident any ambitious Roman would pounce on - remember: she knows their playbook, was once herself on the near-losing end of such a gambit, back when she was still a little naive and the right words could soften her heart; before her legs and her psyche endured the full force of Rome’s wrath. Except Antony doesn’t take the bait, like she expects, and it catches Xena flat-footed, a position she rarely finds herself in and one she isn’t particularly fond of. And so now she finds herself having to regroup and change tactics on the fly, which is fine - she’s used to that too - it’s just that her forward momentum is frustrated by the fact that she can’t get a good read on Marc Antony, doesn’t quite know his angle. He’s an unknown and unpredictable variable in a plot that already has a lot of moving parts and it introduces just the tiniest element of doubt into the equation.

Which is why it doesn’t help that Gabrielle is dubious of Xena’s motivations surrounding Antony. Not that Xena blames her for her concerns. She knows they aren’t really meant to provoke - that they come from a place of genuine anxiety, born from Gabrielle’s intimate understanding of Xena’s unhappy past with both bad-boy types and the ravages of Rome. Knows that Gabrielle, whose heart has traced all the scars of that past and let her love be a salve, is steadfast in her belief in Xena, even when the wheels are falling off. But Gabrielle’s questions do provoke. They pique Xena’s frustrations. It leaves her feeling cagey - like her back is up - and she hates it because it means she’s dangerously close to being on the defensive.

And really, by the time Marc Antony invites her to meet him under the pyramids, Xena is running out of options. Her back isn’t just up, it feels dangerously close to being backed up against a wall. She’s only playing this game because she’s confident she’ll win - that’s why she led with such a shameless opening bid, presenting herself to Antony as she did - but with each round Antony’ coyishness has forced her to up the ante while she waits for him to play his hand. Once upon a time she might have enjoyed and encouraged this slow, deliberate back-and-forth - would have been willing to play it out until she was out of chips (and her clothes) - but she no longer has the patience. Not that she’s entirely immune now to the thrill of what they’re doing - Xena has always enjoyed the hunt and then playing with her food - it’s just that she needs him to reveal his hand before he can call her bluff because there aren’t anymore chips to spare and she has too much on the line to go all in.

But Xena’s emotional conflict isn’t just being driven by her frustrations with the way her plan is playing out - it’s priming the engine, to be sure - there are other feelings at work here too. And chief among them is a deep and growing unease with the roles she and Gabrielle have cast themselves in and the very real consequences that will come from their interference. It doesn’t sit well with Xena, the way they’re toying with the futures of Egypt and Rome - as if they are just prizes to be won and Brutus, Antony and Octavius are the game pieces that need to be maneuvered around the board until a winner appears. As if there aren’t millions of lives at stake. She hates it. Hates that she has been somehow cast above it all, to dabble, like some unworthy god, in the lives of so many, and yet also stuck in the thick of it, an unwitting pawn herself.

And the longer Xena’s game is in play, the murkier everything becomes. What seems like a straightforward plan on paper, is actually a mess of competing interests, each as cold and ruthless as the next. And right at the heart of it all: Xena (and Gabrielle too), judge, jury & executioner. Because despite her business-like approach when they arrived in Egypt, Xena’s ability to remain detached and objective is under pressure, especially as all the players in her game reveal themselves and their motivations resolve into finer focus.

And there’s something about Marc Antony. He’s truly unnerved Xena. Because he didn’t play by her rules, the rules she owed to Rome - and he, a Roman no less. Maybe there would have been a time in her past when this would have endeared him to her, but now it’s left her uneasy. He needles at her resolve, the confidence she has in her plan. There’s a part of her that starts to wonder if she’s mis-read him completely, and that’s the start of a slippery slope into thinking she has mis-read this entire situation. And she doesn’t have the time for back-sliding.

But the problem is this: no matter how she looks at it there’s no clear answer, only devastating consequences if she’s wrong. For herself, for the lives she’s playing with, and probably for most of the known world. Because Rome and her strongmen will stop at nothing to take it all. And that thought never leaves her. Rome is a constant drum beat in her mind: Rome Rome Rome. Xena knows what Rome is capable of, what these three men jockeying for her power are capable of, even if Xena doesn’t know *them*. It echoes in her mind every time one of them is before her - even as Marc Antony’s kisses leave behind a fever in her blood - Rome Rome Rome.

And while her mind whirls constantly, turning over strategy and tactics, she’s tried to keep her heart mostly out of this affair. Left it unburdened by the machinations of statecraft and violent political intrigue. Except for a dull ache - when she thinks about Eve downriver in Alexandria, or when her eye catches Gabrielle in an unguarded moment - Xena could almost believe the desert sun had turned her heart to dust. Almost. Except that ache is there and, like her frustration and unease, it’s been growing more persistent.

Because Xena has more than herself to consider now. Sure, she’s spent the last five years dedicated to preserving the greater good - whether fighting for her closest friends or the nameless, faceless masses - but it’s different now, she’s different, and not just because she has a daughter who needs her to come home. She has Gabrielle too. They have a little family. And even though Xena has loved Gabrielle for years, she feels fiercely protective of Gabrielle’s heart and love now, in a way she’s never felt before, with anyone. But then, maybe it’s not surprising: they did battle demons in hell for each other’s soul. That sort of thing changes everything.

And Xena can see how this is affecting Gabrielle, even if she doesn’t say it out loud. Remembers the pierce of iron through the flesh of Gabrielle’s hands as surely as she remembers it through her own. Rome has robbed them both and Xena sees the weight of it in Gabrielle’s gaze. Sees, too, the way Gabrielle traps her bottom lip in her teeth as Xena smiles seductively at Antony. Watches the flush creep across Gabrielle’s pale skin when Antony’s kisses become more emboldened. Catches the dangerous flash in Gabrielle’s green eyes. The one that hasn’t gone away since they arrived in Egypt. Xena sees and it makes her heart lurch. To watch her beloved watch her take delight in the charms of another. And to know the sight of it is a white hot grip on Gabrielle’s heart. Xena feels the burning clench around hers too.

And this is the Xena we see when she meets Marc Antony under the pyramids. Frustrated and uneasy, heart aching. Tired. Tired of this game and her role in it. Tired of Rome, but mostly tired of all the horrible things that happen by her hand because of Rome. And then there is Marc Antony waiting for her. Disarmingly handsome and charming, unnerving in his refusal to play into her hands, a Roman above all: a pretty boy with pretty words and pretty promises. And like all Romans, she expects the promises to be lies. Except, there’s something in the way he’s played his hand, the way he’s held back all this time, that tells her there might be truth in his words when he tells her he wants her love.

She can sense his confession even before the words are out. Maybe on some level she always knew, had seen the inevitability of this moment even as she refused to believe in the possibility. But his words pierce the haze that has kept her from seeing her own folly. And it’s like lightning in a bottle. The way every frayed nerve snaps and jumps and arcs all at once - the rain of sparks illuminating everything that had left her mind and heart unsettled - in an instant of sudden, total understanding. It steals her breath and slices at her heart, this clear and unbearable realization. What she’s done and what she still has to do to bring this absurd game to a close.

See, she’s made a terrible miscalculation. Because in her mind Roman brutes are heartless. Capable of loving only Rome. And her seduction of Marc Antony was only ever meant to be a power play. How could it be anything more? She had weaponized lust and sex in the past to get the things she wanted, this was to be no different. Except that it was. And her hubris - her prideful overconfidence in her infallible, little plan, coupled with her resolute belief that all Roman men are Caesar at their core - has led her to overplay her hand. Not that she won’t still find a way to win. It’s just the cost will be much higher than she could have anticipated.

Because she has unwittingly weaponized Marc Antony’s affection for her and now she is going to have to deliberately use it against him. It is devastating. To see his chest bared to her so willingly, and to know that she must flay his heart with a knife of his own making. It shakes her resolve. It brings tears to her eyes.

But of course it brings tears to her eyes. She has done the unthinkable: she herself has become Caesar. The thing she hated most. The man who won her trust and her love and then betrayed her. Cold and hard and heartless. Brutal and ruthless and willingly so. In this moment she is Caesar. And soon she will become Rome, sacrificing another man, who might yet have been good, in the name of her unrequited love.

This moment under the pyramids is so important. Everything hangs on this declaration from Marc Antony, on Xena’s tears. I know people see it as confirmation of Xena’s feelings for him - and she has feelings to be sure - but they’re not romantic. Xena’s emotional reaction, and the genuine unease she wears thereafter do not hinge on her being in love with him. Xena’s humanity is enough to soften both her heart and her regard for Antony in this moment. Her compassion and regret are not dependent on attraction or attachment. And so the story doesn’t need to frame her tears for Marc Antony as a lover’s heartbreak, because her heart was always going to break for him, as it breaks for herself and Gabrielle and the ruin left in their wake.

And there will be ruin. Xena is certain of it. Although, for a moment, she might have held a glimmer of hope for Antony. This Roman who’s willing to give up his army for love. For love. Not that she wants what he’s offering. She just wants to believe he could be different. Not for her. For Rome. But then his sword is hilt deep in the belly of one of Brutus’ men and then slicing through the throat of another. And Xena knows - even as she and Gabrielle dance around the subject hours later, bathed in moonlight and disquiet - that any hope for him is misplaced. Knows exactly what he will do with Brutus’ army and Octavius if he prevails. Is keenly aware of what awaits if he learns of her deception and is allowed to live.

Because once upon a time she was the one who trusted and loved and was betrayed and lived. And thousands paid the price at the end of her sword for Caesar’s treachery. Xena can’t even imagine what Marc Antony, favoured son of Rome, might do. Can’t risk the chance. So he must pay the price at the end of her sword too. Xena wishes it weren’t so, tries to avoid the fight that will take his life - because now that she’s seen the humanity in her enemy she wants no further part in this madness she’s helped to orchestrate - only she doesn’t have a choice now. Alea iacta est - the die is cast, and her blade and her betrayal find Antony’s heart all the same. And when the end comes, there’s Xena, soaked in blood and rain and tears, in the middle of this fucking mess, the dead and wounded scattered about her. She can’t escape the truth of it then: she did this.

And it’s this! All of this - the many layers of trauma in need of reckoning and Xena’s tangled heart, twisted further by the part she is forced to play in Egypt and the goddamn fucking senselessness of it all - that carries the emotional weight of the episode. Who needs a Boyfriend of the Week when there’s already all this angst?

And, ok, I hear you say: Pattie, you’ve made some valid points about Xena’s state of mind, but why can’t Xena’s emotional and moral conflict be born from this fraught personal history AND from the fact that she *was* falling in love with Antony? Wouldn’t that make it an EVEN MORE dramatic and powerful story? Because she was specifically falling in love with a ROMAN GENERAL, the very epitome of the thing she has spent most of her adult life hating?

I would like to agree with you, dear skeptical reader, but the simple truth is that there isn’t room for both in *this* story. The reality is this: a 44-minute-long, action-focused show like XWP just doesn’t always have a lot of extra time to linger on the emotional beats. And this episode, in particular, already so busy with all the palace and political intrigue, has even less. So much of what we’re able to read of Xena’s psychological state - and *why* it’s so deeply fraught - doesn’t even come from this episode. It relies on past emotional beats to inform our understanding of her behaviour. (And, I don’t know, perhaps this is why a casual viewer might pass off Xena’s and Marc Antony’s interplay as romantic - because most of the horrible things that have happened to Xena by Roman hands are left unsaid, and surely, if we’d been reminded of them we would never accept that Xena would fall in love with a golden boy of the empire.)

As it is, there’s barely space for any kind of meditation on how either Xena or Gabrielle are feeling about the roles they are being forced to play and the seemingly callous and ruthless tactics they increasingly use to do so, let alone a tenuous romance. And the former is what this episode should be actively engaging with: the moral ambiguity that has been driving season five and will continue on through the end of the series.

Further complicating things with a love story, doesn’t make the episode more dramatic, it just takes up emotional bandwidth that could be better served elsewhere. Because, yes, Marc Antony is the epitome of the thing Xena has spent more than a decade hating! Xena’s history with Caesar and Rome (and everything they both stand for) is richly layered and devastating. It cannot be erased or ignored. To suggest that she is capable of falling in love with Antony (and to ask us to then believe it) without also deliberately exploring the tension inherent in that act is obtuse.

Those kinds of emotional beats need room to fucking breathe. And the episode doesn’t do this because there’s just too much happening. It tries - in broad, moody strokes - to capture the tenor of Xena’s emotional landscape, and it succeeds in wrapping us up in the same angst that drapes Xena, but the source is nebulous. Her haunted looks and tears - under the sphinx and when her sword finds Antony’s belly - can only telegraph so much, especially when we have been given very little reason to feel invested in her supposed affection towards him.

And here’s where we finally touch on Xena’s checkered romantic history - and her self-proclaimed soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools (10 points to Ravenclaw for your patience) - because I’m sure you’re about to suggest that Marc Antony’s air of a Bad Boy is itself cause enough to garner Xena’s affection. Powerful, disarmingly handsome, and charming? Check, check, check. Capable with his ‘sword’? Bonus: super check. But just because her past is littered with dysfunctional relationships and Bad Boys - though I’m sure not all were bad, and some were definitely women - doesn’t mean she’s interested in repeating her mistakes. The Xena of old is vastly different from the one we know by season five, even if there are parts of her that are very much the same.

The principal driving force in her early adult life and formative romantic relationships was lust. It ruled over every part of her. Lust for: power and for violence and for blood and for riches and for infamy, and, of course, for sexual gratification. And so, she sought out partners - themselves driven by the same hunger - who could satisfy all of her desires, not just her (very) carnal appetite. She fell hard and fast and burned white hot until something, or someone, else came along and made her feel even more incandescent. In those early days, Xena wasn’t looking for *love*, she was looking for a good time.

Now, that’s not to say Xena’s past romantic entanglements were frivolous or lacking in genuine sentiment. At the very least, I suspect many were sustained by the warm affection that comes naturally from the intimacy of sharing your life with someone, whether they’re riding into battle alongside you or just warming your bed over a long winter. Nor is it meant to be dismissive of whatever fondness she felt for her lovers. Because: not all love looks the same. There are different kinds of love and different ways to love.

For Xena, though, whose heart had been so thoroughly and devastatingly mangled by Caesar’s betrayal, love was immaterial. At best, it was the unintended, if pleasurable, byproduct of a mutually beneficial arrangement. At worst it was a weakness that her enemies could exploit. Mostly, it was just a silly notion to scoff at. And the feeling Xena would come to associate with love - whether she acknowledged it as such, or not - was informed by both the dynamics of her relationships with Bad Boys and her own dark, irrepressible designs. It was selfish, and often cruel. Grounded in hot blooded impulses and savage desire, rather than growing out of an honest and patient connection.

And it became so thoroughly ingrained in her psyche. It was her overriding view of love. Even after she came to recognize how different love could be - and look and feel - once it was no longer centred in selfishness, when it was open and giving and kind, it was a struggle for Xena to undo her conditioning, to rewrite her love language. Because: first, she had to accept that she was worthy of this new kind of love, and then she had to actually accept it once it was offered.

But, old habits die hard, even for Xena, and I’m sure there were times - when she was just beginning to reframe how she viewed love and was learning how to reopen her heart - that she slipped back into her outmoded ways of thinking. Conflating lust with something else; allowing herself to be tempted by dalliances with partners who stoked her selfish desires, instead of tempering them. And maybe if Xena had crossed paths with Marc Antony then - back at the beginning of the series when her history with Rome was still messy but not nearly as tortuous as it is by the end of season five (you know after Britannia and its fallout which was the beginning of The Rift, and the deaths of Crassus and Ephiny and Pompy and the countless others who were the collateral damage surrounding those events, and, of course, Xena’s & Gabrielle’s own death on the cross) - I’d be willing to believe that she could love him.

Because, at one time Xena might have been interested in a man like Antony, might have been able to look past the Roman tunic and pursued him, taken in by his magnetism and allure. But by this point in the series Xena just isn’t interested, and not because her duplicity has made it impossible for her to be, but because by now her entire understanding of love - of being loved and giving love and nurturing it and making room for it to grow - has fundamentally changed. It’s been re-centred in selflessness, and everything that Marc Antony represents is antithetical to this new appreciation.

And I get that there’s an argument in here somewhere, that suggests Xena’s new approach to love might have softened her heart in such a way that she’s both able and willing to see the man behind the General, and be open to loving him too. But I would argue that the very things, the very people, whose love has transformed Xena’s heart are also the very things that would stop her from ever letting her heart go there. It’s not just that her point of reference on love has changed, it’s that she’s had years now of lived experience to break that cognitive dissonance between her attitude - knowing the kind of love she wants, the kind of love that’s *good* for her - and her behaviour - choosing that reaffirming, selfless love instead of the tempestuous, selfish one. She’s not blind to her past weaknesses, she knows exactly the sort of temptation Marc Antony offers - as surely as Gabrielle does the moment she lays eyes on him - but recognizing it is not akin to considering it. Because: Xena’s already found the love she needs and wants (and knows she’s earned and deserves).

Ok, but what of Xena’s admission on the balcony, when she cops to having a soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools? I think it’s less about admitting (to herself as much as Gabrielle) that she’s developed romantic feelings for Marc Antony, as it is about Xena acknowledging a certain sort of fondness she feels for these ‘Bad Boys’. A fondness that’s born from a mutual understanding. Because: I think Xena sees herself in these men - at least an earlier version of herself - when she was ‘bad’ and foolhardy at love, and her heart tugs at the memory of it. Some curious mix of nostalgia and empathy, that softens her regard for them.

And she certainly sees herself in Marc Antony. The parallels between her story with Caesar and the story she’s now playing out with Antony are unavoidable, and if she’s cast herself as Caesar in this shadow play then Marc Antony is her younger self. Of course she would have a soft spot for him, she knows how this story ends. Knows, specifically, what it’s like to be willing to give your trust and your love only to be betrayed in return. And, of course, it’s made only more complicated with the knowledge that she’s the one who will ultimately be his ruin.

So, finally, exhausted and exasperated and, like 7,000 words into this, I hear you ask: what does it really matter? Xena doesn’t choose Marc Antony in the end, so what does it matter if it was lust or love or guilt or a fucking mid-life crisis that was driving her in this episode? Well, dear, patient reader: it matters because Gabrielle deserves better (THIS IS A BOLD STATEMENT, I KNOW, AND IT’S NOT AN INDICTMENT ON XENA’S CHARACTER EITHER, IT’S JUST THAT I FEEL VERY PROTECTIVE OF GABRIELLE’S HEART, OK! AND THE ONE THING THIS EPISODE DOES IS GIVE GABRIELLE THOSE LITTLE BEATS WHERE WE LINGER ON HER VISIBLE REACTIONS TO XENA’S TETE A TETE WITH ANTONY AND SHE’S CLEARLY JEALOUS AND HURT AND WORRIED AND SO, LET’S NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THE FACT THAT HER EMOTIONAL STAKES ARE ALSO INCREDIBLY HIGH IN THIS EPISODE, NOT JUST BECAUSE HER LIFE PARTNER IS SEDUCING SOME DUDE, BUT ALSO BECAUSE THE LEVELS OF BRUTALITY SHE’S INCREASINGLY HAVING TO EMPLOY ARE ALARMING. AND SO, SOMEONE IN THE WRITER’S ROOM WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS WHEN THEY WERE OUTLINING THE STORY - UNDERSTANDING THAT THERE’S AN UNDERCURRENT IN XENA’S & GABRIELLE’S RELATIONSHIP THAT WOULD MAKE SEEING XENA WITH ANTONY UNCOMFORTABLE, BUT THEN NOT ALSO RECOGNIZING THAT THAT SAME UNDERCURRENT WOULD MAKE IT EQUALLY UNCOMFORTABLE FOR XENA. AND IT’S JUST LIKE: TEAM, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO GABRIELLE? HER HEART MUST HAVE BEEN IN A TERRIBLE STATE. AND WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE XENA COMPLICIT IN THIS?)

But, seriously, I’ve spent all this time diving deep into this episode and the ways it comes up short and why, and while I’ve alluded to it, I’ve mostly avoided the elephant in the room.

We need to talk about Gabrielle.

Because: Gabrielle is at the heart of why a romance between Xena and Marc Antony feels contrived and unconvincing. At this point in the show, it’s clear Xena & Gabrielle are fully and completely committed to each other (and, yes, I know that doesn’t necessarily preclude either of them from also seeking romantic or sexual partners elsewhere... I just don’t think they’re the sharing types, but I DIGRESS) - I mean, we *just* had ‘Kindred Spirits’ where they were nesting and talking about domestic bliss and privately teasing each other about their sex life in the most blatant way possible and failing miserably at breaking up but winning at being cute and married and adoringly in love. And I think it’s important to acknowledge the weight of Xena’s decision to very clearly have Gabrielle as her *life* partner - because implicit in the act of choosing to commit yourself to another person is a vow of fidelity, a bond that would be near-holy to Xena, whose word means everything.

But more to the point: Xena loves Gabrielle and Gabrielle loves Xena, and their love has been the beating heart of this show from the beginning. Gabrielle’s care and tenderness has been transformative - everything that Xena has come to understand about love, everything that she does to honour and protect it, is because of Gabrielle and the heart she’s so selflessly given of. And it’s this love story - and how the show has framed its slow and beautiful unravelling - that becomes the bench mark, the gold standard, for how all other love stories in this universe should be viewed, for how Xena, herself, now views love.

So, I guess what I’ve been saying all along is this: Xena can’t possibly be falling in love with Marc Antony because she’s already in love. Deeply, profoundly, bound-for-all-eternity in love. And no one, in this life (or any other, let’s be real) will ever compare. Not pretty boys with pretty words and pretty promises. Not Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools. Not even a god himself. There is only Gabrielle.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xwp #otp: for i am dying of such love #xena and gabrielle #S05E18: Antony + Cleopatra #pattie has some thoughts #the fucking audacity #i still cannot even

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sorryimanon · 4 years ago

Text

Character: Shinsou Hitoshi

Them helping you w/ your nightmares

Warnings: Just fluff, slight mention of suicide.

(This is part of a short story series with other MHA characters)

They would come sporadically, the nightmares you mean. The first occurrence came to you at the dead of night when everyone in the city was sound asleep. They occurred shortly after your little run in with the most wanted villain, who so happened to have cornered you in a narrow alleyway. Thankfully Shinsou was there to rescue you, a coincidence you were both grateful for. He was kind enough to walk you home, saying his intuition was off the charts and wanted to keep you safe. Once you got home, it was difficult to erase the recent event from your memory. Just even closing your eyes, their dismantled face kept appearing every time you blinked. Haunting scenerios involving them chasing you around the city till your lungs gave out. Thankfully the nightmares cut short to the loud beeps emiting from your alarm clock. It got so bad you woke up drenched in sweat. It was a never ending cycle that lasted for a week. That was until, Shinsou Hitoshi. Later that initial week, you ran into him while he was on night patrol.

“Do you need me to walk you home again Y/N?” Shinsou politely asked, noticing how white your knuckles got due to clutching so hard on your bag.

You waved your hands frantically dismissing his offering. “No no no Shinsou I’m completely fine with walking home by myself!”

He ponders for a moment, almost as if he doubted the mask you put on. Without thinking much of it, Shinsou grabbed your wrist and carried onward to the direction of your house. You didn’t protest or even try to pry your wrist from his grasp.

Both of you reached the steps to your house. A wave of sadness washed over you. You’d have to eventually go to bed for work tomorrow. You solemnly reached for your keys that were submerged in your bag, and unlocked your front door. Shinsou bid a farewell and started making his way down your steps. You cracked opened your door but stopped yourself from stepping over the threshold. You looked over your shoulder and saw that Shinsou was halfway down the steps. Internally you fought about wether or not this would be a god idea, more so if would ever agree to doing it. You only knew Shinsou through casual encounters on his late night patrols. You two weren’t close enough to even be labeled as acquaintances. But you would only be asking for just one night.

“Hey, Shinsou?” His name coming from your lips made him immediately stop in his tracks. “If it’s not too much to ask, can you spend the night here? I’m still a little shaken up from last week.”

He was stunned for a second at your request, but brushed away any signs of hesitation to your answer. “Of course Y/N,” he grinned.

Feeling as though you overstepped your boundaries, you decided to make both you and Shinsou some tea. This tea in particular is marketed specifically for helping those with insomnia, but you bought it anyway in hopes it’ll help with the nightmares. You also had a feeling Shinsou wasn’t getting much shut eye either. The bags under his eyes were very prominent and an everyday look to him. Knowing how little to none you know about Shinsou, you didn’t ask him about his inconsistent sleep schedule.

The rest of the night consisted of you and Shinsou getting to know each other, being said that he’ll probably be keeping an eye on you from now on. You eventually learn that he graduated from UA 3 years ago and started his own agency from scratch. Oh, and he also has a strange obsession with cats. While sipping your tea, Shinsou took this as an opportunity to analyze your current appearance. You wore the same tired expression as he did, but it suited you more than him really. Then he remembers all those times he’d seen you rushing quickly through the empty streets of the city, glancing behind your back almost as if you were expecting someone to jump you. It clicked instantly that you were probably experiencing horrible nightmares or worse insomia. Now he’s seated comfortably on your coach, watching you fall in and out of sleep. The sight saddened him. He put his cup of tea down on the coffee table and carefully placed his hand onto yours.

“You should rest Y/N. I’ll stay up and make sure nothing happens throughout the night,” he said softly. Concern was etched on his face.

You nodded your head and got up from where you were sitting at. However, you stood up too quickly not letting your nerves fully function yet. You leaned to the side, preparing to hit flat on your hardwood floor. Shinsou instinctively reached out and protected your body from hitting the floor. Surprisingly, you were knocked out in his arms already before he could say anything. It struck past midnight he noted, so he lifted your body into a bridal position and carried you to your bedroom. He tried not to bang your head against the door frame when entering the room. Before he placed you onto your bed, he scanned the dimly lit room. Every inch of your room there was a cute succulent plant occupying an empty space. Posters of all sorts of heroes covered up most of your walls. He smirked to himself seeing an old classmate of his, Midoriya Izuku. Better known as Deku, the number one hero in the charts currently. Shinsou reaches your bed and carefully lays your body down on the comfortable surface. He covered you with every blanket he could find in your room and then tucked you in as such. Seeing you in such a vulnerable state made him want to stay and protect you here instead of keeping watch outside, but being a pro hero he had to put aside his selfish tendencies. Bidding a soft kiss to your forehead, Shinsou left you to your slumber.

Later that night, Shinsou entertained himself by reading the magazines from your coffee table. Each one from the same company, Heroes Digest. He neve r really understood the hype about these magazines. Mostly because they only showcase the top ten heroes, but mainly the ones who are attractive enough for a full page. Shinsou was on his 5th magazine when he heard a sound of distress coming from your room. Due to his heroic instincts, he came to a worse case scenario. She’s probably being kidnapped right now! Shinsou disregarded the magazine and ran over to your bedroom. He opened the door to a horrible sight. You were currently tossing and turning in your bed, clearly in distress. All the pillows that were once on your bed are now scattered at the foot of your bed. Without the protection of your blankets, he can now see a great amount of sweat on the surface of your body. A loud croak of a screech slipped from your mouth, causing Shinsou to wince a little. He’s had countless nightmares before, but he’s never seen someone experience one this intensely. Your soft cries convinced him to move forward. Even though you two haven’t established a proper friendship yet, Shinsou slipped between the only then sheet on the bed, careful not to touch you. His breathing hitched once he heard your voice.

“P-Please don’t hurt m-me!” You wallowed in agony. The villains face appeared again. Every scar and disfigurement painfully engraved on their skin. Quite deja vu really. Your back hitting the cold surface of the brick wall, the familiar stench of something decomposing, and nothing but darkness laid behind the villain. Their hands reached out to you, closing their grip around your throat. They erupted into fits of laughter seeing you turn a deathly shade of blue. “Stop I-I can’t b-breathe!” You tried to gasp for more air, but alas, the villains tight grip restricted it. You felt your body slowly collapsing at their hold, going limp from down below. One more try at surviving, you tried to pry their hands away from your esophagus, digging your nails deep into their flesh. The villain winced at the contact, but it only made their grip on you much tighter. Suddenly, multiple strips of cloth wrapped around the hands of the purpertraitor. With much desired force, the villain was flung straight into the brick wall behind them. You slid down the wall abruptly on your bum. You looked across and saw that the villain laid unconscious, now with their hands tied to a knot by the mysterious cloth. By taking a moment to process what just happened, you now recognized whose those belong to. Shinsou emerged from the darkness, strutting in like a knight in shinning armor. A glint of rage flickered across his face when he glared at the unconscious body of the villain. But then his whole exterior softened when he turned his body to you. He knelt down and extended his hand towards you.

“You can wake up now Y/N.” His hoarse voice sliced the silence atmosphere.

“What-“

You woke up in a fit of heavy breathing. A pool of sweat dripping was down from your forehead. You had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust to the different environment. Right, your room. You never left it during the night. The nightmare happened once again, however, Shinsou made an appearance this time. The thought of him made you want to get up from bed and check on him. It’s been several hours since he left you to your slumber. Your body stiffened to the feeling of a hand hovering your lower abdomen. The hand gave light feather touches on your exposed stomach, bunching up your loose fitted shirt higher. Another limb, a leg, was crossed over yours, encasing you into a warm hug. Apparently the person was breathing as heavy as you, heartbeats in complete unison.

“Good...you’re awake,” The husky voice matched to the hero who was currently on watch mode over you. Limps tangled in a mess, Shinsou nudged you to turn over and face him. You obliged and rolled onto your side, getting a good look at your savior. Savior meaning him not knowing he saved you once again from the villain in your nightmare.

What you weren’t expecting was for Shinsou to look absolutely breathtaking. The illumination from the moonlight that seeped from the window contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. His purple hair was messier than usual, but something about the way his hair being tousled like that erupted a warm feeling in your stomach. Even the bags that slept under his eyes looked painted on from an artist’s hand were magnificent. Holding him tightly seemed more important than getting your daily sleep for tomorrow.

“Shinsou, you saved me. In my nightmare I mean. How did you-“ you were cut off by Shinsou pressing his delicate finger to your lips. Staring at nothing but your widen eyes, he closed the space by resting his forehead against yours. You relished at the wholesome gesture, not wanting him to put any distance between you two.

“The villain is notoriously known to have a quirk that lets them slip past through your consciousness while still having their counter part in reality. They just so happen to have imprinted themselves onto you that one night in the alley way, making it easier for them to appear in your dreams. So, I tried to use my quirk to my fullest ability to stop him from killing you,” Shinsou paused to move the hair from your eyes, as if he’s done this a million times before. “They terrioze their victim to the point of exhaustion, inevitably leading them to suicide...”

Knowing if Shinsou wasn’t there at the exact moment, you probably would be causing harm to yourself by now. The thought made you shiver.

“But how did you know that’s what was happening to me?”

Shinsou’s face flushed instanously at your inquiry.

“I-I...I’ve been watching you for some time. When you ‘d be walking home from work I’ve noticed that you’ve been on edge since the incident. Even hours ago when I walked you home, you just looked like you haven’t gotten sleep since.” He broke off his gaze at you and tried focus more on the poster by the door. “Not to sound like a creep...was only doing a heroes duty,” he reasoned pathetically.

When you didn’t say anything for awhile, Shinsou took it as a sign you probably made him out to be a sleazy stalker. He untangled himself from your body and got up from his position on your bed. He was at the edge getting ready to leave when you suddenly caught him by his forearm. Both of you locked eyes during that moment, really taking in the changed atmosphere. Shinsou loved the feeling of your warm hand, considering he’s been the one touching you. It was a nice change for once. A change he wants to experience over and over again to infinity.

“Thank you Shinsou-san. You truly are my hero,” you gushed out loud, pulling him slightly back his previous position. He laid back down to his side, resting his palm against his cheek.

“Do you need me to leave? I can if you want me to since my work here is-“

It was your turn to disrupt his sentence. Shinsou felt a plump pair of lips pressing softly against his. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime to Shinsou. A whine left his lips when he didn’t feel your mouth anymore.

“Please stay Shinsou.”

Those are words he needed to hear from you in order for him to place another longing kiss on your mouth. He lets go to nuzzle his head onto your shoulder, tickling you with his puffy hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving anytime soon kitten.”

#shinsou x y/n #shinsou hitoshi #shinsoubnha #shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou x you #my hero imagines #my hero x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero headcanons #boku no hero headcanons

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onwardintolight · 4 years ago

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A few thoughts on the Han/Leia Circuitry Bay Kiss in ESB

I have always adored this scene. In recent years, however, I’ve seen a lot of people, particularly other women, commenting on how it makes them uncomfortable and gives off toxic/icky vibes. First of all, I just want to say that if that’s what you take away from this, that’s totally valid. Everyone comes to stories with their own experiences and triggers, and if this scene rubs you the wrong way, I completely understand. Consent is SO important, and it’s not 100% clear in this scene. It can be interpreted in a way that strips Leia of her agency. That being said, I’ve personally never interpreted this scene that way, and I thought I would break down why.

I won’t even argue that my interpretation was the intended meaning of the scene—I would suspect that some of the problematic ideas about romance and sex common at the time this movie came out were part of what led them to film this scene the way they did, ideas that wouldn’t (shouldn’t) fly in this day and age. But I’m writing this to offer up a different perspective on why this scene has actually always felt empowering to me personally, a survivor who relates deeply to Leia.

First of all: how did these characters get here? What is the context of this scene?

Han has spent practically the entire movie making his intentions known to Leia and trying to get her to admit that she has feelings for him, too. She clearly does, and everyone knows it. The film makes sure that we know it, too (that long stare in the Hoth command center, anyone?). But Leia simply can’t bring herself to do it. Why? Well, for one, she lost her parents and her entire planet in the last movie. This probably makes her scared to get too close to anyone for fear of losing them, too. We also know from Leia: Princess of Alderaan that after what happened with Kier, she vowed not to fall in love again until the struggle against the Empire was over. These things alone are more than enough reason for her to resist admitting her feelings for Han. In addition, she is almost certainly dealing with PTSD from the trauma of being tortured and losing her planet. She’s likely feeling a lot of anxiety and struggling with blaming herself over what happened, which only compounds her resistance to being vulnerable with Han. Even if deep down she really wants to admit her feelings, even if she desperately craves being vulnerable and physical with him, her fear and shame won’t let her.

Han has a lot of bluster, but it’s covering a very observant and caring heart. We see this time and time again. If you look closely, you can see how he consistently notices when things are wrong with his friends and then does something about it. Despite his talk of being a scoundrel, despite the aura of cool bad boy he does his best to exude in order to hide his own vulnerable heart, he’s not a misogynistic jerk who’s just pursuing Leia for the thrill of it, to put another notch in his belt. He truly cares about her. In the first part of ESB, he’s clearly feeling very hurt by her refusal to admit her feelings for him. But even so, it seems consistent with his character that he would recognize that Leia’s struggling, perhaps even guess some of the reasons for it, and I believe that very much informs how he approaches this moment (even if he masks it to some extent with his signature bluster).

Now for the scene itself:

When Han comes up behind her in the cramped space of the circuitry bay to lend her a hand, Leia is startled and reacts in a hypervigilant way consistent with what she’s been through. She violently pushes him away, and he pulls back and gives her a little space. A conversation ensues in which she has a moment to calm down from her startle response and where they talk a little bit more honestly than before about what they do and don’t want (she doesn’t want to be called names, he wants to be treated a little nicer). This is a small but important step towards vulnerability for Leia.

When Han takes her hands, she says, “Stop that, my hands are dirty.” Her hands being dirty is just a reached-for excuse, but on a sub-conscious level, it tells so much about her inner state. She feels dirty because of all the shame she carries around. She blames herself for so much. She’s afraid that if she lets Han in, she’ll only bring more hurt to them both. Even as a kid, this struck me deeply; not because I read this scene as toxic or diminishing to Leia in any way, but because this was during a time in my life when shame and embarrassment were weighing heavily on me; when I, too, had been through some horrible things and was afraid to get physically close or be vulnerable with anybody. So I felt what Leia was feeling in a very visceral way—that sense of shame, of fear and near panic, and yet at the same time that core part of myself desperately wanting things to be different, desperately wanting to let myself be loved.

Han replies, “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?” With that, he dismantles her excuse. He addresses the shame by indicating she’s not alone—they both have fears and regrets, they’re in this together, she has nothing to be ashamed of around him. And then, he astutely hones in on the other thing that paralyses her: fear. By asking her what she’s afraid of, he’s helping her examine her anxious/panic reaction instead of just reacting. He’s helping her regain control of it all so that she can make the decision she truly wants. He’s pushing her, yes, but pushing her in a helpful way that she needs right at that moment. He’s pushing her in a way that helps her exert agency over her own fear and shame.

When she repeats “Afraid?” we see her eyes are lit up with excitement, now, another clue that she does actually want this. He points out that she’s trembling—she denies it with the hint of a laugh—but in saying that, he’s telling her it’s okay to feel the way she’s feeling. He’s giving her permission to take the opening he’s providing her. She doesn’t move away from it. She’s still wrestling with fear and shame, but she allows him to come closer, to slowly pry her doors open.

From there, Han declares out loud what she’s been too ashamed and afraid to admit: that she likes him, and that one of the reasons why is that he’s able to help her wrestle with things like this, to help her live on the dangerous side for a change, to help her set her true desires free.

She continues to argue (“I happen to like nice men”), but she’s almost smiling at this point, completely lost in his closeness, her body language speaking her desire. Her banter at this point is just a way to fill the silence and assert some control over her feelings.

She’s let him approach her this closely, and since her initial statement of shame, she hasn’t moved to leave or shown any sign of rejecting his advances. In fact, every indication is that she is very much into this. Saying what she wants out loud is still really scary, but Han knows that. So, after making his intentions very clear through his words and through his own body language, after slowly closing the gap between them and giving her plenty of time to react and reject his advances if she so chooses, he finally kisses her. It is not sudden; it does not come as a surprise to her. She does not squirm or stand there as if frozen. Instead, she meets him halfway, kissing him back passionately.

I certainly don’t mean to suggest that someone not saying no or not moving away equals consent. People can freeze under trauma. But Leia, while certainly afraid, doesn’t seem to shut down. On the contrary, she seems to welcome it and participate in it fully. Ideally, consent would be crystal clear, without a doubt, but I think there’s much in the context of this story to indicate that Leia very much wants this and that she gets to make this decision for herself.

The deleted scene is even better, because it makes her agency and consent even more perfectly clear. After an initial kiss, Han pulls back, looking at her questioningly to see her reaction. “Okay, hot shot,” she says, and initiates the next kiss herself, drawing him closer again.

Sometimes, when you’ve built up walls of fear and shame, you want someone to push past your defenses in a way that feels safe and respectful. I’d argue this is exactly what Han is doing here. Han has given her permission to be vulnerable and respond the way she really, truly wants to, even if she’s unable to say it out loud quite yet. He’s made this a safe place for her to dismantle her walls for a moment. He took things slowly, making sure she had time to react, to pull away from him, to say no. She doesn’t. She takes his invitation, and finds the moment of freedom, vulnerability, and passion she’s wanted for so long. She lets herself be known.

#HanLeia #Han x Leia #HanLeia meta #SW meta #Star Wars meta #ESB meta #ESB #LPOA #Leia Princess of Alderaan #it's taken me years to be able to put this into words #my SW meta #thoughts

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freewheelshippin · 4 years ago

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FIC: “be proud”

Let me indulge in the fantasy that I got to help, just a little bit, in making one of the only ballads on this earth I like. More “utapri characters that aren’t ranmaru” content than usual, especially Ai, since this is vaguely based on their Idol Songs album!

Content warnings include an allusion to home invasion, Ranmaru’s usual backstory things (i.e. dealing with debt), and some eating/meal scenes.

Ranmaru was surprised to receive the package, a fairly big box from someone he never expected to get mail from. Something in the pit of his stomach half-expected it to be everything he’d sent her, unused and returned to sender.

For a second, he thought he was right. It was a similar array of trinkets and colors as the merch she’d designed for his album, but it quickly became obvious this wasn’t his merch, but hers. Trinkets from her shop, like patches and pins, and one of those handmade prints she liked making on weird paper. Candies he didn’t recognize, some American snacks he did, a little box of something that looked homemade with a hand-scrawled label on it. At the bottom, a shirt, printed with a cleaned version of an album art draft he’d especially liked but the agency didn’t approve. Folded within it, a note, written in English on one side and clumsy Japanese on the other.

Yo, Kurosaki!

I know I already messaged you thanks for sending me my comp copies of everything, but I wanted to return the favor! You really didn’t have to go out of your way get it to me like that, much less pack in all the other shit you did. But I’m glad you did! It arrived on the day I got another rejection, one I was really hoping would pan out. I got back all the time I would’ve spent feeling sorry for myself and instead just wanted to try again. That’s kind of the message I got from the sound of your album, so I guess it’s appropriate!

Honestly, even if it was tough figuring things out sometimes, I had more fun on that job than any other one I can think of. You don’t have much to apologize for, I’ve survived way worse than some grumpy e-mails from a cool client, and you actually had pretty good feedback to offer. I think the end result was pretty metal. (Or well, rock, since it’s your shit, after all.)

If you’re cool with it, I think it’d be fun to keep sharing our work with one another, outside of just being a client and artist. Get some fresh perspectives, you know? You know where to message me if you think so, too.

-- M

P.S. You’re the first person to get this custom pick I got designed. Be grateful (LOL).

Taped to it, there was a pearlescent pick, red and black with white lettering. Ranmaru took it off, careful not to tear the paper, and ran his fingers over it. It wasn’t even close to the type he’d tolerate using if he wasn’t going to finger-pluck his bass.

He clasped it in his hand, pausing for a moment, before he let out a ‘hmph,’ equal parts amused, relieved, and a little bit giddy.

---------

“...Ranmaru,” Ai said, looking at him with those big saucer eyes. Sometimes Ranmaru felt like the guy never blinked, which made his curious once-overs scarier than he’d ever admit to.

“What,” he growled back.

“...according to every piece of data I know about you…” he started. He already didn’t like where this was going. “Nothing would point to you being the cell phone charm type.”

“So?!” he barked, frowning at Ai as he self-consciously stuffed his phone into his pocket. It buzzed from a message notification, as if on disastrous cue, making a plasticy noise as it rattled against the charm. “What’s your data know about the real heart of people, anyway,” he continued, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

“It hasn’t been wrong about anything yet.” Ai tilted his head. “Why do you have a charm all of a sudden?”

Because I saw she uses one of mine, Ranmaru answered frantically in his head, thinking back to the video chat they’d had where she showed it off. His hand was in his pocket, muffling his phone buzzing as more messages came in. He ran his fingers over the smooth pick, the subtle grooves where the letters were, the jagged hole he’d poked into it, the string that ran through it and knotted into a hole on his case. Because she told me about how much she liked it, so I wanted to return the favor.

“Why is this so goddamn important to you, Ai?” Ranmaru bristled. “Can’t we just get on with work already?”

Ai stared at him a moment longer before shrugging slightly. “I’m simply curious. What would motivate you to act against your usual protocol seems interesting. But if you won’t tell me, I suppose there’s no use prying, especially when we have work to be done.”

Ranmaru grunted back, leaning back to the table and looking over the notes. “We’re decided on what we wanna do for our duet, but we still have to decide on a direction for our solo songs on the album. Something that makes each of us stand out but doesn’t ruin the cohesiveness of the whole thing.”

“You should do something slow,” Ai said, after a moment of thought.

“Why should I?” Ai should know by now Ranmaru wasn’t about that sort of sound, especially when Ai already had the sad lullabies more than mastered. “Nothing about that’s very rock or wild. It won’t work with my image. Or do whatever that “gap” shit is that people like…”

“Really?” Ai looked at him again. “Ballads are an intrinsic part of rock music, and wouldn’t it be ideal for communicating feelings that aren’t as energetic as your usual work?”

“You should’ve just said power ballad in the first place,” Ranmaru grunted, but he had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “It’d work better with your usual style. And the duet, from how it’s going so far.” The biggest problem Ranmaru could think of was he couldn’t imagine what on earth he’d want to sing about in one.

“Then it’s decided,” Ai said decisively.

“...Oi, Ai, when did I say I agreed to this?” The kind of thing he’d rather shape into a ballad instead of his usual, urging style was a complete mystery, which Ranmaru didn’t like the idea of committing to in a partner project and on a deadline, even if it was months away. But like hell he’d admit that to someone else in Quartet Night, much less Ai, who’d just give him “logical” suggestions Ranmaru already knew he’d hate.

“Was your reasoning not enough?” Ai tilted his head. Ranmaru met his eye. Something about the curiosity on that blank face felt less pointlessly prying this time. Now it was more like someone who just wanted to see something new.

Ranmaru couldn’t fault him for that. And he was due to challenge himself in this way, anyways.

“....Fine. Whatever. That means you can’t do your usual sentimental stuff. You should do something that’ll lift everyone up after the heaviness of the other songs.”

“That sounds logical,” Ai replied. His eyes moved to Ranmaru’s pocket as it buzzed once again, but quickly turned back as they brainstormed ideas.

--------

He wiped his eyes as he leaned back from the computer, surprised by how quickly and unbidden they came. He hastily tore up a strip of paper and hung it over the camera built into the laptop -- he knew it wasn’t on. This wasn’t a video call. But the idea of someone seeing him like this felt surreal and, frankly, too scary to confront right now.

They chatted a lot more, now. It’d been about half a year since they’d started talking outside of work. It wasn’t just occasionally sharing art and music with each other anymore, either, it was a big stew of ideas, inspiration. A lot of breaking down what they liked in all the albums they shared with one another, and how they wanted to integrate all that in their work. Her siphoning gear and singing tips off of him, while she broke down expressions and visual composition to a science to help him out with modelling. And amid all that, something easygoing. Complaining about work, about weird clients, about shitty train rides, but also the nice parts of their days, too.

He’d gotten short with her today, and she got frustrated with him. They argued -- for the first time since they’d tossed aside client-and-professional for friends-and-colleagues -- and it turned out she was as passionate a spitfire as he, assuming she got in the right mood.

And in the middle of all that furious typing, she paused.

M: You know, it’s kind of relieving to argue with you like this.

Ranmaru was so startled, he forgot the point he was making.

R: what the hell are you talking about?

M: oh, come on, we both know I’ve used diplomacy to handle your grouchiness before, and that worked fine enough then. But I just appreciate that I trust you enough to not take such a safe approach, for once, and the thing you’re most upset about is that I didn’t feel comfortable calling you out on your horseshit sooner.

Ranmaru didn’t have an answer for that as she typed on and off. He imagined if this were a verbal conversation, this would be the point where he’d just listen while she strung her thoughts together -- wordily, but getting to good enough of a point that it was worth letting her meander.

Instead, she cut right to a point he wasn’t expecting.

M: hey, I’m not taking back anything I said, but I probably should’ve asked sooner. Are you doing OK? You always get stuck in asshole mode for a reason. I don’t have classes to teach today, so you can bend my ear if you need to. even on voice chat, if you like, japanese or english.

An uncomfortable wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t told her about it, but things were the kind of stressful that pushed his stoic approach to its limits. Too many deadlines at work. Too many people there talking, too few saying anything he gave a damn about. Money was tight this month -- the debt collectors suddenly hiked up what he owed, and they’d banged down his door to “tell” him that. And another shitty argument with Camus, after he “freed” all his bananas for some ridiculous flambe parfait he just had to have for lunch on a day when Ranmaru couldn’t afford any.

This was just how things were. Why was he upset about it now? He was beyond cursing how things had turned out for him. Making useless wishes when there wasn’t anything to do but work and survive until he didn’t have anything to lament.

M: alright that’s a suspiciously long amount of time between messages for you when you’re riled up. are you OK? It’s fine if you’re not, and it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, but i’m here if you want. If something’s really eating at you, that’s more important than me being mad. (for now, anyway)

It felt surreal as he leaned back to the computer and felt his fingers find the keys as he started finding the right words.

R: it’s not a light subject R: and it’s not on you to deal with it M: LOL bro c’mon. M: I eat heavy for breakfast, and I said I’m here for you. M: lay it on me

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve. It’d been long enough since he’d cried that he didn’t even think about how it’d smudge his makeup and stain his clothes, but he didn’t especially care as he started to explain himself, the words coming out hesitantly until they coalesced into a small cascade of short, tight sentences, heavy with years of restrained sorrow he’d ignored so aggressively until now.

---------

Recording Haruhana went well. Ranmaru expected it to, somewhat. Ai’s cold problem-solving could be annoying, but they never got in the way of the heart of his vocals. Their voices blended into an interesting harmony, and the acoustic guitar bridged their styles into a bittersweet sound they slipped into easily enough that recording sessions went uneventfully.

“It does not surprise me, but.“ Ranmaru couldn’t bring himself to outright glower at Ai as they stopped recording and stepped away from the mics. “You’re very good at conjuring a strong, wistful image with your voice.”

“Then why do you look surprised…” he grunted back, loosening and lowering the mic for whoever had it next. “...You do it well, too, but we already knew that.”

“The heart of things you’re so obsessed with,” he said plainly. “It wouldn’t do if we couldn’t bring truth to the emotions we write about.”

Ranmaru hadn’t given much thought to why Ai’s songs were so lamenting and sad, for the most part. He’d acknowledged they were genuine, had a tone color that suited him right, and made the fans happy. Truthfully, he’d only thought of those songs in the context of work -- Ai was a rival and a colleague he respected enough to sing with and not want to lose to, so he’d only looked at his songs from that standpoint, too. But Ranmaru realized better, now, just how good Ai was at sharing sadness that wasn’t so heavy it dragged people down with it. Wistfulness that grasped forward towards something, like a greater understanding.

“How’s the ballad going?”

Ranmaru clicked his tongue. “How’s your synthpop bubblegum bullshit going?” he shot back.

“Well,” Ai replied, unfazed. “I have the chord progressions and kits mapped out.”

“Good for you, then,” he grunted back. Great. So Ai was making good progress while Ranmaru hadn’t made any.

“Are you struggling?”

“Isn’t that the point of a ballad?!” Hopefully Ai couldn’t argue with that and would leave him alone from there.

“Shouldn’t you defer to a composer or lyricist if you’re stuck?”

Ranmaru glared at Ai. “If it’s a ballad, I should write it myself, not leave it to someone who’s just gonna put words and music I don’t mean into my mouth.”

“Past data suggests you won’t back down about this,” Ai said smoothly, stacking the notes and papers they’d brought into the studio neatly. “I suppose I should wish you luck, in that case, and remind you this is my album, too, and it’s the fans who are most important.”

“I know that,” Ranmaru spat, long done fussing with the mic.

*************

R: you hate ballads, right M: I sure do! :D R: why M: too slow for my tastes, sentimentality done like that isn’t my thing, don’t always feel genuine, you know R: that’s literally every problem i have with the big project at work right now M: oh no you have to make a ballad?? Like….poppy enough for shining agency and all that? Oh boy.... R: what’s your advice to making a ballad you don’t hate, then M: HMMMMMMMMMMMMM M: pass a kidney stone M: WAIT RANDY COME BACK I’LL HELP FOR REAL R: If you want to help why are you calling me randy?! M: suffering is the root of all good ballads. I’m helping R: can you at least remind me what the one ballad you like is M: oh, turn on your light M: judas priest M: it’s always judas priest R: so why don’t you hate it R: other than it’s judas priest M: oh, nothing big M: my first gf just made me a mixtape and confessed with it is all M: and that was my entry point into western metal M: sealing my fate forever as a queer metalhead and thereby forming the foundation of all my aesthetic, social, musical, and auditory sensibilities forevermore M: and some other stuff R: oh is that all “We are about to arrive at ____ station, please make your way to the doors if your stop is ____ station....”

R: what’s the other stuff M: oh dw about it M: it’s, you know, the stuff everyone brings to listening. the mushy baggage that lets ‘em connect with strangers. you know how it is

The train arrived right after that message went through, and he had to put his phone away over questioning her further. Recently, he’d felt more irritated with himself than usual. He knew he got this way when he felt he owed someone and hadn’t done his part to even the score.

He was kind of in the same camp as she when it came to slow songs. Rock was about energy, passion, an urging sense of power, and even if he could understand why those slower songs were important, it didn’t mean they had to always resonate with him. He thought about their exchange. She dropped art into their chats a lot because, as she insisted, it helped having a musician look at her work, instead of another illustrator. And he liked her perspective for the same reason -- more personal than a fan, but more refreshing than everyone else at the agency.

Really, it sounded like what made the ballad feel genuine was the context she could apply. It wasn’t just a song, but a personal gesture that singled her out from the millions of other people who’d hear the song and imagine it was for them.

Ranmaru frowned as he exited the train station. The solution to his ballad problem was simple, so obvious he felt stupid for overlooking it. If he expected people to connect to his music, he had to give people something to connect to. All he had to do was what he always did -- just go for what his heart told him to. No frills, no fancy trimmings, just something he wanted to honestly express.

He strung basslines in his head as he walked to his apartment. Let the music-making guide him, instead of demanding it follow rigid instructions. As he pushed the key into the lock, he caught the faint stain of his eyeliner on his sleeve.

Don’t look at me … while I dry my eyes....

His stomach lurched a little, but moreso he felt his body surge with the truth of the song he wanted to write. The same rush of a surging venue, somehow, but with the kind of wistfulness and earnest desire he appreciated in Ai’s work more now.

Tama had started to squeeze through the little crack in the door, investigating why Ranmaru had just stood there like an idiot for so long.

“...c’mon, you little dope,” Ranmaru said softly, surprised how breathy he needed to keep his voice to get past the tightness in his chest. He squatted down, scooped the soft little creature up, and walked straight to his workspace. He did the once-over his apartment he’d gotten in recent habit of, seeing if anything had been seized by the collectors while he was gone, before depositing Tama on a cat tree where Mike was sitting. He hummed a melody that was quickly taking shape, his hands barely keeping up as he grabbed a scrap of paper, scrawling notes as fast as his hands would let him.

*******************

Reiji looked up at Ranmaru in disbelief. Ranmaru scowled back.

“If you don’t want it,” he growled, reaching for the box he’d put in front of Reiji. “I’ll fucking take it back.”

“No! No no no, Ranran, I’m so grateful!” Reiji exclaimed, scrambling to slide it out of Ranmaru’s reach.

“Humph! If I didn’t know of your peasant tastes,” Camus started from across the table. “I’d just tell you you’re better off skipping this slop.”

“Oi!” Ranmaru pointed a spoon threateningly at Camus. “You don’t have to eat, asshole! You still owe me for ruining my bananas, and as far as I’m concerned this just means you owe me another meal!”

“You think your pauper’s tongue deserves the fineries I’d select, I see,” Camus said challengingly, tilting his head and crossing his legs. Ranmaru was a hair trigger away from just throwing the box with Camus’s portion right at him. Maybe it’d ruin that stupid suit and he’d learn to shut up.

“He-heeeey, Ranran, everything smells super good….I’m so excited to dig right in, but are those sauces I see?” Reiji interrupted. Ranmaru clenched his fist around the spoon as he turned his glower towards him.

He slammed the spoon down in front of Reiji. “Which sauce do you want, the spicy chili one or ketchup,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“O- ohhh, wow! So gourmet! We have options!” Reiji cheered, in that singsongy way he did when he was trying to smooth over disasters. “Ranran, I knew you could cook, but I never knew you were so talented! I wonder what’s in ---” Ranmaru was losing his patience, and he grabbed the bottle of homemade chili sauce, hovering it above Reiji’s portion. The bottle sputtered as the air escaped, and Ranmaru’s grip threatened to explode the whole thing right then and there. “ -- I’ll have just a little bit of the spicy one, haha…”

Ranmaru held his gaze a moment more before he focused back on the food, squeezing a reasonable amount onto Reiji’s portion. He opened the box with Camus’s, already dressed with a mountain of sweet chili sauce, stabbed the spoon into it, and slid it over.

“Is this omurice?” Ai asked. Ranmaru handed him his own box.

“Is the rice in the omelet?” he grunted. “It’s just a stuffed omelet you eat with rice.”

“Mm-mm! So good! I’ve never had spices quite like these! Is this a secret specialty dish you’ve been hoarding to yourself?”

Ranmaru, at this point, just wanted to sit down and eat. “No,” he grumbled, hoping they’d get the picture.

“I can’t recognize this preparation against any recipe I know of. Did you make it up yourself?”

“It’s one from a friend, alright? She sent me a bunch of chilis and herbs and I had to make something to use them all up. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to eat it. Stop asking questions and let me eat!”

They ate quietly for a while, much to Ranmaru’s relief. Camus, of all people, was the one to end the silence.

“Kurosaki,” he said, taking an odd tone for a conversation with Ranmaru. “....You will share the recipe for this sauce immediately,” he said, an odd hush to his voice.

“And what if I don’t,” Ranmaru sneered back, feeling just a little smug. “You gonna pass out from a sugar crash and finally give me some peace?”

Before Camus finished his reply, Ranmaru took a bottle from his bag and tossed it at Camus, who disappointingly kept his composure through the surprise. “Maybe you’ll learn to eat some meat, now that you’ve got a way to slather it in sugar.”

The rest of Quartet Night all stopped again in surprise, the same way they did when Ranmaru said he’d made them all lunch for today. Their eyes burned on Ranmaru as he went back to his meal, and he tried very, very hard to not let it bother him.

“...Ranran, you’ve been acting different lately. Did you--”

“No,” he growled. “Whatever you think it is, no.”

******************************

M: oh dang M: wow dude M: i really don’t know what to say

Ranmaru stared at his phone in the dark, waiting as feedback from the other side of the world came in.

M: you fucking nailed it. I don’t know how you did it, like a week ago this wasn’t anything. M: now it’s a whole new side of you i don’t think your discography’s shown off yet M: the fans are gonna go apeshit

The rest of the song came to him in the kind of exciting, passionate fervor where his hands couldn’t keep up with the ideas. The melody followed the bassline very naturally, peppered in by flashes of lyrics that slowly built and reorganized themselves. And from there, more instrumentation became evident. What he had now was just enough to make the soul of the song clear, finished late tonight in the studio.

Already his head was filled with what more he could add, but they blended into blur of ideas he was too tired to separate.

M: can I confess something? I mean, i don’t know why I’m asking, you’re probably already asleep M: what you have here already made me cry a little bit M: i don’t know what you did, but you made a ballad that works so well. It really feels personal and so full of the soul everyone loves you for, but there’s something really sad and kind in there that makes my heart squeeze. M: and that’s even in the lyrics! (what i can understand of them, anyway haha) but you know how saccharine I find ballad lyrics most of the time!!! M: then again, it is you. I don’t think there’s anything you could ever make that would feel disingenuous lmao M: is it too late to ask if i can illustrate this album too....would Ai and the agency let me do that…. M: i can draw something that’s soft and rock as shit!!!! M: anyways M: you’re probably dead asleep but just know this: good work, dude. M: it really felt like you were saying something very heartfelt, even in this rough cut, and i think how personal that voice is is gonna make everyone feel such a feeling. M: it sure made me feel one!

He locked his phone, tearing himself away from the slow stream of messages coming in. He laid on his back, phone facedown in the blanket, as he stared up into the dark swallowing the room back up again. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning to get back into the studio.

The lyrics weren’t complete yet. He wasn’t the poetic type, so it’s not as if he’d let himself overthink his words and lose their heart in too many revisions, but there were still blanks. The phrase that’d pull it all together, the words that summarized the message of the song, they still weren’t there, but he could feel himself getting closer.

It was about paying an unspoken debt, and it was about shame, but above all, it was about pride. In himself, for letting himself reach this point, and in someone else. That was the sort of connection he could sing himself to tears with, whether on the stage, the studio, or the clean, edited album, and for that, he was proud.

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #scribblings #it's been a while since i procrastinated shit i had to do with furious fic writing #and i've been some kind of feral lately over Be Proud like the song #so i guess this is where we're at lads

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k-corner · 4 years ago

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Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

#Ashes Of Love #Heavy Sweetness Ash-like Frost #ashes of love xu feng #ashes of love jin mi #xu feng #jin mi #my problems with the protagonists

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years ago

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Atsukyou Week Day 1 // Roleswap AU

@atsukyouweek

There is a boy with a bomb on the train, and if Kyouka can save him, then maybe she can save herself too.

(Platonic atsukyou)

Word Count : 4 296

Content warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

Basically the train scene with Kyouka and Atsushi swapped. It was pretty fun to write uh.

“Thank you for your help, Kyouka-chan,” Yosano says as they carry the groceries on the train platform.

Kyouka doesn’t say anything, glancing up and nodding quietly, but Yosano doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll hide some of the sweets for you, so Ranpo won’t snatch them away,” Yosano continues with a quick wink. They walk onto the train and take their seats.

She eyes the man from earlier, who is carefully avoiding their gazes. When he bothered Kyouka about bumping into him, Yosano sent him groveling at her feet and he ran with his tail between his legs.

In Kyouka’s opinion, considering Yosano’s anger, he was lucky to have kept it, the tail.

“...Thank you,” she says quietly. “About earlier.”

“Don’t worry about such trivial things.” She waves her hand dismissively. “So, I heard you knew Dazai before you joined us?”

“Not really.” She thinks back about Dazai, whom she dragged out of the river just a few days ago. “I’d heard about him.”

She knew him only by reputation — Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia executive turned traitor, the one the boss still refuses to replace.

There isn’t much talk of him, unless you managed to pull Akutagawa or Chuuya into a rant, and what information she gathered during her past six months as a Port Mafia assassin was enough for her to recognize him as soon as he told his name.

He looked at her, eyes wide and round, before he laughed, recognizing her as a fellow turncoat.

“I killed 35 people,” she said that day— she ran away from the Mafia with the full intent of killing herself, at some point, but she ended up saving a man instead.

“So what?” he answered, and gave her a chance.

Or maybe it was him who saved her, the lines have blurred since then.

And so, she’d been hired, passing the agency test, though no one but Dazai — and probably Ranpo, smart as he is — knows of her background.

She is snapped out of her recollection as the loudspeakers let out a high-pitched sound.

“ An announcement from the driver's cabin ,” the loudspeakers sputter out. “ I apologize for the intrusion! Now, I am about to conduct a little experiment!”

The voice is familiar, one Kyouka has encountered several times before. She blanches, hand closing tight around Yosano’s arm. “That’s—”

The voice keeps going, enthusiastically announcing the passengers would be the subject of the experiment. Then, the train churns, shaken by a sudden explosion.

“Do you know who that is?” Yosano asks, having noticed her reaction.

"Did two or three people just die~?” the voice continues. “The next blast will do better than that! I have installed bombs at both ends of the train — enough to blow everyone up!”

“Kyouka-chan?” Yosano insists.

“Motojiro Kajii,” Kyouka answers, trembling.

Yosano stills, recognizing the name. Kajii, despite being in the Mafia, is still a bomber and explosive specialist well-known of the authority and, as a result, of the agency.

That Kyouka is able to recognize him by voice is a whole other can of worms.

“Well then, hello Kyouka-chan~" he calls in a sing-song voice. “ We’re here for your head, and if you you’re careful all those passengers may not be blown up all the way to heaven...it’s up to you!”

So, the Mafia is coming for her already? She joined the agency barely two days ago, how did they find her so quickly?

“We don’t have a lot of options,” Yosano says, deciding the aforementioned can of worms will have to wait. “Either we let them take you, or we jump out of this train with dozens of passengers. Or—” she sets her hand on her hips.

“We fight them?” Kyouka suggests. She doesn’t want to face Kajii, she would need to use Demon Snow to beat him, and right now this is the last thing she wants.

“I’ll got at the front and take care of the bomber. You go look for the bomb at the back.”

“Kajii has a special ability too.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.” At Yosano’s questioning glance, she elaborates. “He is immune to lemon shaped bombs. He uses them to fight, especially if he is fighting up close. It allows him to stay unarmed while doing a lot of damage to his opponent.”

“Thank you,” Yosano says. “This information is precious; I’ll keep it in mind.”

Kyouka nods. “Be careful,” she tells her, because she knows Kajii and how dangerous he is despite appearances.

“Don’t worry.” Yosano pats her head with a smile. “We’re the Armed Detective Agency.”

Taking that as a reassurance, Kyouka takes off, running towards the back of the train.

If Kajii is the head of the squad behind this attack, then maybe he’s the only one with an ability. The bomber at the back, hopefully, isn’t as strong, ability or not, and she may be able to take him without using Demon Snow.

She pushes past the crowd pressing around her until she reaches the second to last carriage, fully expecting a group of black-clad, armed men to ambush her at any moment. Instead, she runs straight into a teenage boy.

“S-Sorry!”

“You shouldn’t stay here,” Kyouka tells him. “You heard him. There is a bomb.”

“I know— I—”

Her instincts tell her something is wrong. The boy is a few years older than her, white haired and golden eyed, and she doesn’t recognize him at all. He is pale and looks just as scared as everyone else, but something is wrong.

He is dressed in black.

There is a gun strapped to his belt.

Then, he starts running past her, further towards the back of the train, and she runs after him until he’s cornered in the very last carriage — one the civilians have already evacuated.

“I— I’m Atsushi.”

“Kyouka.”

“I know.” He gulps, and his hand closes around the handle of the gun at his belt. “I’m supposed to keep the bomb safe,” he says, “and kill you.”

Atsushi doesn’t look like a mafia operative, but neither did Kyouka in her days. He is obviously a newbie, but it doesn’t make sense. Kyouka, before being a traitor, was regarded as a competent and powerful assassin, so why give this kind of task to a newcomer?

It doesn’t matter. Two days ago, she would have welcomed death gladly. She doesn’t deserve to live — she has killed 35 people in six months, her ability exists for murder, and her skills revolve around assassination.

But now her wish has changed.

“You’ve killed 35 people, so what?” Dazai said. “Does it make you unsuitable for the agency?”

She thought so, but Dazai is suitable for the agency despite having been an executive, and she passed the test — a test of character, for them to see how willing she is to help people in need.

Glancing back, she looks at the civilian in the next car. If she doesn’t find the bomb, they’ll die.

If she can save them, with her own skills, maybe she can truly believe Dazai.

Maybe she can give herself a chance. Maybe it’ll be okay for her to continue living in the light, to help people in the hope that one day she’ll earn her right to be alive.

Clutching at the phone, at the only thing she’s left of her mother, she shifts her position, moves herself in front of the open door and draws her blade, standing ready to protect them.

Atsushi’s hand shakes, and so does his gun.

Getting him to tell her where the bomb will be easy. He’s so scared of her it’s a wonder he hasn’t spilled his guts yet.

“Where is the bomb?” she asks.

“It’s—” He winces, and his free hand flies to his ear — an earbud, she notices. Someone is giving him orders from afar. Maybe Kajii? But if Yosano is keeping him busy... “If you try to escape, I’ll set it off.”

Someone on the other side shuts him up just as he goes to say something else, giving him more orders, and Kyouka takes advantage of his distraction. She adjusts her grip on her blade and moves. Her blade slashes through the teen’s shoulder, sends him sprawling backward on the ground with a scream of pain. He clutches at the wound, gasping, and she moves again, cutting his cheek.

She doesn’t want to kill him; she just wants him to talk.

“Where is the bomb?” she asks again, more forcefully.

The cut on Atsushi’s cheek heals before she can blink. So, he does have an ability — a healing power, then? Those are quite rare, but not suited for battle, making the fact that they sent him even stranger.

Pinching her lips, Kyouka attacks again, and he reflexively raises his arm to protect himself. She tries to hold back before she cuts through it too deeply, to avoid cutting the limb off, but her blade suddenly comes to a stop.

The teen’s arm has changed shape, stopping it before it could make damage. It’s now covered in fur — white and stripped with black — and his fingers have elongated in long, sharp looking claws.

He stares up at her, wide eyed, and they have changed too, now bright yellow with slit pupils.

“Oh—” His breathing becomes even more erratic. “It’s coming,” he says quickly, agitated, “I’m really sorry.”

And his whole body shifts. His skin boils over, his muscles distort and he lets out a pained grunt, killing intent rolling off him and Kyouka has to take a step back, fear only now starting a crawl up her guts.

A giant, white tiger stands in front of her, snarling.

“We are looking for a beast ,” Kunikida explained as he joined Dazai and her for dinner the night they met. “A giant, man-eating white tiger. The military police asked us to find it and dispose of it.”

The tiger the agency is looking for belongs to the Mafia.

All of Atsushi’s fear seems to have faded now that he is in his tiger form. He looks at her, eyes full of rage, and pounces.

Its claws rip through her clothes and sink into one of her arms, and she is thrown backwards, back hitting the train seats. Pain throbs through her but she doesn’t scream, merely grits her teeth and takes it.

Kyouka is a fool, sometimes. Underestimating the scared-looking teen was a mistake — has he been biding his time, camouflaging his killing intent, waiting for the moment he could transform and take her by surprise?

It attacks once more. She tries using her blade to fight back, but a single swat of his paw is enough to break it. Her body screams in pain as he hits her, and the severed half of her weapon clatters uselessly upon the floor.

She may need Demon Snow for this one. She grits her teeth, closing her eyes.

Her ability is good for nothing but battle, and she used it to murder 35 people under Akutagawa’s orders. Even before then, it killed her own mother. She doesn’t want to use it. But as the tiger looms over her, teeth bared, she knows she doesn’t have a choice. If he kills her, it could go after the civilians, and Kyouka will have been unable to save anyone .

The ghostly woman appears behind her, now bound to her will by the president’s ability. She takes in a deep breath, shoving aside her hate and disgust for it to focus on the fact that she is using it to save innocents.

It’s coming. I’m sorry .

She still can’t shake off the wrongness of the situation as Demon’s Snow cuts through one of the tiger’s legs. The suddenly missing limb throws him off balance and he collapse, but it doesn’t take long for it to grow back.

This Mafia newbie is a giant, regenerating tiger.

She doesn’t understand.

Why not set off the bomb like he threatened? Why keep up with the act until last second? Why is there still something wrong?

She thinks about the last six months, about Akutagawa’s orders coming from the phone and her ability reacting to it, outside of her control. She didn’t really want to kill anyone, but her ability had still obeyed.

It’s coming. I’m sorry .

It's not an act.

“You don’t control it,” she says out loud, staring up at the tiger. It stares back — there is nothing of the scared Atsushi in its eyes. “And you don’t want to kill me.”

The Mafia must have taken in another person with a destructive ability to make murder his life purpose, just like they did for her. She feels a twinge of sympathy for him — maybe, if she could convince him to show her the bomb earlier...

It doesn’t change a thing. Atsushi can’t hear her now. She closes her eyes, gripping her weapon tight. She doesn’t want to kill him either. But the civilians are her priority, she has to do everything in her power to keep them safe.

This isn’t Atsushi anymore.

The beast charges, and Demon Snow meets it heads on. Blood sprays around them as she cuts the tiger again, trying to slow it down. It heals fast, and she needs to be faster.

Distracting it with Demon Snow, she runs towards it. Another hit from the beast has her bones creak and protest, but she can’t give up. If it goes on a full rampage, bomb or not, everyone on this train is dead.

She slides between its legs and stabs its belly with what is left of her weapon. The beast roars and trashes, it tries to claw at Demon Snow, who avoids it. The metallic door bends and shatters under the blow. The people in the next carriage scream.

Before it can heal, she stabs it again and rolls out of the way. Demon Snow catches her and helps her as she jumps, grabbing onto the fur, until she’s on top of it.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re just like me. I wish — I wish I could help.”

Her halved, jagged blade sinks deep into the back of the beast’s neck.

It shakes, and throws her off, stumbling. Its legs folds from under it, and she sees the strange, eerily glow of its eyes fade as its body shifts again.

Leaving Atsushi curled up on the floor, groaning in pain.

Atsushi coughs, one of his hand massaging his nape. It’s already healed, just like the cuts on his stomach. He looks up at her as she presses her blade to his throat, eyes roaming all over her, taking in each of her injuries.

She’s still standing, and there is something like relief in his eyes when he sees it.

“Why,” she asks, breathless, “do they send someone like you against me?”

“It’s—”

The ear bud has fallen off and he is now palming around, trying to find it, until gaze fixes itself on something close to Kyouka’s feet.

When she glances down, she sees it. The communication device has fallen there. Careful not to move her weapon and cut his throat by accident — though she now doubts it’ll actually kill him — she steps on it, crushing it under her shoe.

No orders will come for him anymore.

“It’s a test.”

She almost lowers her weapon in surprise. “A test.”

He nods. “I am — a beast,” he tries to explain. “A beast of calamity. I bring misfortune to everyone around me. My life has no worth at all if I can’t be of use to someone—” he licks his lips. “Akutagawa said—”

Akutagawa. Of course, it’s Akutagawa . He must also be the one who convinced him he is a calamity.

“Akutagawa said, that if I kill you and protect the bomb, I will have proven useful to him, and they’ll keep me and show me how to control the beast.”

“And if you fail?”

“They’ll sell me — there is this organization looking for me, the Guild? Or the military police, he said they will put me down. But—” he shakes his head, and his voice’s pitch rises. “I don’t want to hurt you, or anyone! ”

She almost asks why he didn’t just say so — but the answers come to her by itself as she remembers the earbud she just crushed. If Akutagawa was on the line, Kyouka doesn’t doubt that, at the slightest hint of Atsushi trying to explain, he would have blown all of them to kingdom come.

First, they need to defuse the bomb.

“The bomb,” she says instead. “Tell me where it is.”

Paling, Atsushi tugs at his white tie, undoing it, before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, pulling it open to reveal part of his chest — and the bomb strapped to it.

She can’t, for a few seconds, breathe. Her knuckles turn bone white as she clenches hard around the handle of her blade.

The bomb is on him. Akutagawa put the bomb on him.

She doesn’t expect the sudden rage bubbling under her skin.

“Okay.” She says, trying to stay composed. “We will take it off.”

She can still save him. She can still keep him safe. She can save the passengers and Atsushi.

Kneeling besides him, she takes a look at the way the bomb is attached. It would be more prudent to carefully undo the strap than try to cut it with her weapon.

“He’s wrong,” she suddenly says. It’s been bugging her since Atsushi said it. “You’re not a calamity.”

“What?”

“Akutagawa is lying. He told me that my life only had value if I killed people. So, I did. But—” she shakes her head, looking for the straps holding the bomb to his chest. “I'm working on changing it, which means he was wrong. He will make you into a calamity if you obey him, but you don't have to. You can still get away.”

“Kyouka-san, I brought a bomb in this train.”

“So what?”

Compared to 35 people in six months, one bomb they’re working on defusing is nothing.

She looks at him in the eyes, serious. She wants this point to get across, to show him what Dazai showed her.

Unlike her, he hasn’t truly harmed anyone yet. If people like Dazai and her can have a chance at something different, at giving their lives the value they want instead of the one others want to give it, Atsushi can too.

“I put all those people in danger—”

“So what?” she says again. “Do you wish to hurt anyone?”

“No!”

Her fingers close around his wrist, steadying his trembling hands. “Then what do you wish for?"

“I want—” He choked on his own breath. “I want to fix this.”

“We will,” she promises and he looks at her doubtfully. “I’m from the Armed Detective Agency. It's my job to help now.”

It seems to calm him down, and he smiles at her tentatively. "Thank you."

She is just about to resign herself to cut through the straps when the speakers come to life.

“Announcement from the driver’s cabin!”

Yosano’s voice echoes through the train, and both Kyouka and Atsushi look up to the nearest loudspeaker

“Is Kyouka-chan alive? ” Yosano asks. “ That bomber wasn’t actually that much to deal with. According to him, the bomb on your end is set off remotely. It’ll blow fast if not defused properly too— is that right?” A soft mumble is heard through the speaker — Kajii sounding very out of it. Yosano hums in approval at the reaction. “The only way to defuse it is with the emergency button, that the Mafia member on your end has.”

Turning to him, she extends a hand without a word.

“Ah—” Atsushi stands and dusts his pants, before taking a remote out of his back pocket. “Yes, I have it.” He holds it out to her, allowing her to take it. “Here.”

Kyouka studies it. It’s a simple remote, with a single button at the center, but there is a gnawing suspicion in her guts. It’s too easy.

Akutagawa would never let them get away so easily — send a newbie so obviously unwilling to harm anyone with the only mean to defuse the bomb? That’s practically asking him to disarm it and make a run for it.

Was he counting on her to kill Atsushi swiftly and try to defuse it on her own? Did he think the prospect of being caught and killed — or sold to whoever gave the Mafia the most money — would be enough of a deterrent? Did he believe the promise of acceptance, of giving his life worth, would have him cave in and obey?

Atsushi looks at her expectantly, biting his lips, twisting his fingers. He tries hard not to show how terrified he is, and Kyouka nods at him, attempting to be reassuring.

She presses the button.

Her phone rings.

Heart pounding in her chest, she freezes.

The phone — Akutagawa used it to control Demon Snow, but she didn’t want to get rid of it anyway. It was what she had left of the mother her own ability had killed, and he couldn’t take that away from her.

With a shaking hand, she flips it open, and Akutagawa’s voice echoes from the other side. “ He pressed it, didn’t he?”

Her eyes fly to Atsushi, who is trying very hard not to move, and she makes herself sound more confident for his sake. “Leave him alone.”

Atsushi slowly backs away from her, but her focus is back on the phone.

“How cute, ” Akutagawa says dryly. “Don’t take it off, weretiger. Kyouka decided to take all the passengers with her.”

“Kyouka-san—”

She whips around. The bomb makes a ticking noise, and she drops the phone. It clicks shut as it bounces on her chest.

“Take it off,” she orders, but Atsushi takes another step back instead, towards the gaping hole left by the tiger’s claws earlier in the fight.

“It’s too late. I’m sorry — I— It’s my fault everyone here is in danger.” He’s speaking fast, words almost mixing with each other. “They’re right, I only bring trouble and bad luck but— it’s better if I —” His jaw clenches, and the fear fades from his eyes. “I want to fix it. It's the only way.”

He is getting closer to the edge. The train is passing over the river and the drop, on top of the explosion, would probably kill him, the explosion too close for the regeneration to kick in fast enough.

He’s going to jump, and it’s like she can’t move to stop him.

"I made this mess and my life has no value anyway, so if I can do something right—” His heels come to the edge of the drop. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t—”

“Thank you, Miss Detective.” Atsushi smiles at her. “You helped a lot.”

He falls.

Kyouka runs.

She jumps after him, Demon Snow materializing in front of her, pulling her downward until she can wrap one of her arms around him. With a quick work of her weapon, her ability cuts the bomb free, and Kyouka grabs it with her free hand, flinging it away from them.

It blows in a jumble of unbearable heat and ear-piercing sound and a burning sensation on her skin, and Demon Snow embraces them, taking the brunt of it.

They hit the water hard and the cold makes her skin tingle where the heat burned her. She can’t see straight, can’t tell up apart from down.

When her head breaks the surface, she takes a large gulp of air and coughs. She stays there for almost a minute, refusing to move, her muscles aching but still holding onto Atsushi.

Then, she kicks her feet, trying to swim, though a kimono is probably not the best outfit for it. In the end, Demon Snow reappears on its own, gently wrapping its arms around them and pulling them towards the riverbank.

After being hauled there, Kyouka pulls Atsushi up on the dry ground, never once letting go of him. She breathes in deeply, the adrenaline fading, and her shoulders slump. Her kimono sleeves are charred, but thankfully she wasn’t burned in the explosion.

Atsushi still unconscious, she gives him a once over, making sure he’s not hurt. One of his sleeves is ripped and the slight burns are already healing, but he otherwise looks fine.

“We made it,” she whispers, holding him close, fingers running through his hair.

She will have Akutagawa’s skin if he harms him again.

Demon Snow sits by them, and one of her translucent hands rests on Atsushi’s shoulder. Kyouka pointedly looks away.

She did it. She used Demon Snow to help and protect, but still, she can’t forget that it’s her ability who murdered her mother, the ability she used to kill so many people.

But it saved them.

If she keeps using it to save people, maybe one day she’ll have earned her right to life, the same way Dazai is earning his own.

“Kyouka-chan!” The clacking of heals on the cement draws her attention to Yosano, hurrying in her direction. She stops once she reaches them. “Any injuries?”

“I’m fine,” Kyouka answers. The cuts the claws left in her arms sting. “But I’m not sure about him. I want to bring him back to the office.”

Yosano pauses, considering the tight grip Kyouka has on the boy, and the way Demon Snow looms over them protectively. The translucent woman’s head snaps up towards her, blank face evaluating her until Yosano is deemed harmless and she fades away.

“He is from the Mafia, isn’t he?”

Kyouka shakes her head no. “He is not an enemy.”

“Very well.” Yosano straightens up and fishes her phone out of her bag. “Let's take him home, then.”

#atsukyouweek2020 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #nakajima atsushi #izumi kyouka #bsd atsushi #bsd kyouka #cw violence #writing

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drtwit · 4 years ago

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RWBY and the Shades of EEEEEEVIL!

Villains aren’t exactly uncommon, in fact, you could say they’re a constant thorn in the side of reality that only exist to make a story complicated. They hurt our favorite characters, monologue a second too long, spout threatening one-liners they probably spent weeks in front of the mirror preparing, and sometimes they even have the audacity to have sympathetic qualities just to mess with us even more. In short, they’re a bit rude. However, we’re not here to talk about the sympathetic and redeemable qualities of our nefarious opposition. No comebacks here. No, we’re here to discuss the bushy mustache twirlers, the little Hitler youths, whiny brats and the candy thieves who have a pronounced hatred of puppies.

With pure evil characters who are there to break the story over their knees and practice their maniacal laughter, it’s often that writers forget to incorporate the character’s motivation, or at least fear the mention of that motivation. See, I find that many people find it hard to recognize that even for the most insane and cartoony of bastards, there is a reasoning, however twisted, behind their actions. The Joker commits crimes to spark chaos, push Batman to question his moral code and prove life is just one big joke. Darth Sidious wants to control the entire Galaxy and believe that nothing can be allowed to surpass him, not even his legacy. Zamasu wants to fulfill his image of a perfect universe and see’s Mortals as a stain upon reality. Prince Lacroix wants a bigger dick... Oh yeah, and something about fearing super powered Asians and the apocalypse, but I think he’s just racist. They have motivations and their actions are fueled by how they reason they can achieve their goals.

In RWBY, we have our fair share of evil ice cream flavors. Power hungry Fem Fatal? Darwin’s Edgy Fangirl? Sinster Overlord shrouded in mystery? Extremist swallowed by his hatred? Mustaches? We have them all, so feel free to choose your poison. But the one I want to talk about to illustrate this trend is the most pure evil of the bunch: Jac-ass Schnee.

This blight upon the good name of a bitching stache has been a point of apathy for me in the show, both as a character who always managed to feel like a background character forced to be an antagonist and as poorly done part of Weiss’s arc. He’s the best example of what happen when you need a character to always be a villain, no matter the scene, no matter the context, he always has to be hatable and pathetic to make sure you still hate him. This leads to a rather inconsistent character.

There’s a previous point of contention the fandom had with his post-volume 3 portrayal, where both in the way Weiss acts and how he’s mentioned prior to volume 4, there seems to be a disconnect to the abusive corporate worm we’d eventually meet. In the first three seasons, he and his company is something that Weiss clearly tried to emulate, something Weiss seemed to take enough pride in to be such a snob about it, something that Weiss goes out of her way to defend against accusations from Blake. You get the idea that Weiss’s father is harsh, distant and negligent, but that he’s still someone Weiss seems to hold a little affection for. Go to volume 4 and the way the two interact make it suddenly makes prior Weiss moments rather questionable, she seems suddenly very clear about how much she doesn’t like him, he’s very obvious with how much of a dirt bag he is and the everything we learn about the SDC and Atlas elite in general make it hard to think Weiss wouldn’t have agreed with Blake back in volume 1. Hell, I found it odd how Winter back in volume 3 cared about Weiss not returning her abusive father’s calls, you’d think Winter would be like “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

But okay, maybe it’s just some subtleties missed, Jacques is the straight up corporate sleazebag, doing anything he can to get that payday. He has money, and he knows how to use it, dominating the market and knowing which shortcuts to take to move things in his favor. Now, let’s strip away these elements to the concrete core of the the type of evil Jac is. His evil is one of apathy towards morals in the face of greed. He wants money and power, and doesn’t care what he has to do to get it. He’s a good business man who’s worked his way up the ladder. This worked for volume 4, he uses Weiss as a symbol of sympathy towards future buyers at a party, he pretends to care about the fall of Beacon to look good and slaps Weiss when she starts to threaten that with her antics.

And then here comes volume 7 to take him down in the lamest way possible. We have the build up: Weiss running away, the songs about her wanting to break free, the whole motivation of bringing the SDC back to it’s former glory, the fear of having to return to Atlas on her own, ect. He’s her personal villain and as such you’d expect her returning home after he’s had two volumes to build up his already substantial power during a crisis where his business is needed more than ever, he’d take on a rather daunting role as secondary antagonist to Watts and Tyrian. Our first scene with him in volume 7 tells us the answer.

He storms in, easily loses his cool, is revealed that no one really likes him, Ironwood makes it clear he has very little power here, he’s unable to do anything other than throw petty insults at Weiss and immediately he’s stopped being the corporate bastard he’s supposed to be. This continues with the rest of the volume with him, where the writing seems to make him multiple villains at the same time and reduce him to Watts’s mindless flunkie who could have been replaced by any character. His actions don’t connect to his motivation and situation, there’s nothing that makes me believe that he actually reasoned that this would advance his goals.

He’s a ruthless business man who brought the SDC from poultry earnings to a global monopoly. But he doesn’t have one lick of charisma or cunning to the point he thinks taking away people’s jobs will get them to support him rather than hate him.

His company is constantly facing controversies, accusations and attacks with apparently everyone hating him. But he has shit security and isn’t the least bit paranoid of bugs from potential journalists in his house.

He wants money, power and security. But goes along with Watt’s plans that clearly weaken Atlas’s defenses and isn’t suspicious at all at Watts wanting admin access to Mantle’s entire system with no attempt at insurance in case the clearly suspicious mad man doesn’t stab him in the back.

He doesn’t care about Weiss at all, she’s simply a means to an end, even disowning Winter for joining the military. But he still let Weiss attend Beacon, went back to get Weiss from Beacon when he had Jac 2.0 on standby to be his heir.

He’s a man who’s been in the game of feeding people bullshit for years to justify his bad deeds. But he immediately crumbles the moment he’s accused of anything.

He wants to sweep all accusations of unfair labor practices under the rug so they don’t damage his business. But apparently he allowed faunus to get branded with his logo.

On and on it goes, where his motivation is thrown away because “He’s evil, he doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.”. Joker wants to push Batman over the edge, thus he creates a situation that fucks with Batman’s moral code. Sidious wants to crush the Galaxy’s hope, so he constructs a symbol of fear big enough that it can be seen looming overhead from the planet below. Zamasu wants to purge the universe, so he takes the body of the man who embodies the ‘sins’ of mortals and travels to another timeline to make sure the much more powerful Gods and Zeno can’t interfere with his plans. La Fuckwad knows that everyone is looking for an excuse to get rid of him and knows the apocalypse might be coming, so he manipulates a fledgling vampire to get him the sarcophagus of an ancient vampire so he can absorb that refine ‘87 vintage blood wine and become powerful enough to survive.

You can see how they reason they need to do the things they do to achieve their goal. What connects A to B. The only way Jac’s action sync up with his motivation is if he is such a profound moron that Weiss besting him means nothing. “Wow, you beat the illiterate kid at reading, well done.”

As I stated earlier, Jac is viewed strictly as a bastard, strictly as Weiss’s antagonist, in every scene the show has to push in our faces that he’s the bad guy and that Weiss is superior to him. He never gains an advantage over Weiss, or puts Weiss in a difficult situation, he never has a real chance in this story. He is there to be arrested by Weiss. Every scene changes him to be the villain it needs for him to be for us to hate him the most. So, in some he will be calm and composed to frustrate us, while others he’ll be made to yell like a petulant child to make him pathetic and other’s he’ll just be stroking his mustache. His first confrontation with her ends with him getting slapped down and humiliated, then he’s just a yes man who does what Watts tells him to do with no thought or agency, then Weiss just walks into his party, get’s handed victory on a silver platter and arrests him.

That’s it. You got your ice cream flavors, and all of them can be pretty good on their own. However, if you get a bunch of them, stick them in a bowl and then just take a few bites and leave ‘em out in the sun, all you’re gonna get is regular intervals of a muddy looking puddle that eventually becomes grey sludge.

#rwby #rwde #analysis

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emdop · 5 years ago

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The Fuckening: Modern YA Fantasy Misunderstands Feminism and Effective Plot Structure

Alright, mother fuckers, buckle up. Like most book lovers, I read many books and I’m always searching for the next one that will make me develop a hyper-fixation. Nothing beats the rush of finding media so good that time loses all meaning and you’d sell your soul for the next hit of content. The amazingness directly results from being rare. So in between the moments of stuffing your face full of your favorite characters, the other books are read. The ones that could have been good but aren’t successful. The ones with the lying, beautiful covers used to lure readers into forking over crumpled cash while hugging the hopefully precious gem. Then, all the words are read and the covers are closed, and there’s only the silence of disappointment and mediocrity.

Anyway, I read a book. Shocking, I know. It had so much promise and as I delved into the first fifty pages; I thought I found a winner. Then it started to sink in a massive Titanic kind of way. This book was Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan (this essay/rant will have spoilers and will discuss the ending). I’m prefacing this rant with a disclaimer, not because I’m trying to side-step backlash, but because I feel it’s worth mentioning. This is all my opinion and if you loved this book with all your heart, that’s awesome! I understand why someone would spend time reading, writing, and engaging with it. It’s possible to recognize the weaknesses of a piece of media and still like it; I just happen to not like it because of those weaknesses. Returning to my point, the pitfalls, mistakes, and blandness of this book are rampant throughout Young Adult literature, particularly in Fantasy. As a writer myself, I’m not immune to committing the same sins, but I think it’s valuable to examine why and how these unfortunate tropes keep appearing. I have several points I want to explore in this essay, but the main two are the pretend feminist values and poor writing craft.

Part One: YA Book Feminism and Bland Female Characters

Wicked Saints is marketed as a book about a girl who can communicate with gods and draw power from them. Her magic is rare in a world full of blood magic users and as the war between her country, Kalayazin, and the opposing force, Tranavia, clashes on her front porch, readers are led to believe that she’s an integral part of how this war will end. I was here for this. I was so ready to scream about this book to anyone who will listen. Now, I’m screaming about it for a different reason.

Nadya, our human incarnation of the god’s Walkie-Talkie, is not like other girls. She’s special and powerful and exceptional. At first, I bought this lie, much like I did with every other book like this one. I thought, finally, here’s a badass heroine who will take charge of her life and wield her powers to create a lasting peace or at least kill everyone. When the readers meet Nadya, she’s living in a monastery to hide from Tranavians since her magic is so rare and powerful, they’re sure to seek her destruction. Then, they find her, or rather Tranavia’s prince, Serefin, (a boy-general, because adults don’t exist in YA) does. Serefin tries to kill Nadya, but she escapes with help of Forgettable Best Friend.

Lately, I’m reading a trend of books that build a “strong” female narrator by giving her some sass, adding a rare but useless magic, and having her not die. Then they slap words like empowering, feminist, or well-crafted into the marketing campaign and call it good representation. This isn’t quite what happened with Wicked Saints, but I had the impression that Nadya would be more than what she actually was in the book. The hardback cover has the words “Let them fear her,” engraved into it for gods’ sake. I thought she was going to at least do something.

Okay, there was one time she did something. While on the run from Serefin and the other Tranavians, Nadya and Forgettable Best Friend find a group of misfits being attacked. Nadya, in the confusion of who’s an enemy and who’s an ally, asks the gods for help. One responds by vanishing all light for like ten minutes or something. This scene is one reason I bought the lie that Nadya was going to be a Bad Ass Mother Fucker, but this is the only time I remember her using any kind of significant power. In fact, once the plot gets going, Nadya is cut off from her powers almost entirely. I’ll get to that later. Back to the group of misfits, which includes a broody, yet totally handsome Tranavian, Malachiasz, and bam, we’ve found the love interest. Malachiasz is a Vulture which I understood as a privatized military group that’s ruthless, skilled, and detached from the world (no family or friends). So, Nadya hates him on site, but Malachiasz has defected and has like emotion now. They argue a bunch and exchange heated glances.

Now that we’ve introduced our male characters (Serefin, Malachiasz, and some other dude in the misfit group), our plot gets going. There’s nothing wrong with introducing characters to start a plot, that’s how story-telling works. What I’m finding frustrating in this book and many others like it, is that the male characters make most of the decisions. They show the most autonomy and participate in the drama/action. Serefin is leading an army, making command decisions, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol (I don’t have time to get into the drinking to drown your feelings is Not Good argument, but know that this book doesn’t call out his addict behavior). Malachiasz and his band of friends are planning to assassinate the king. The female characters have run away, observed, and turned out the lights. Where is the girl who’s inspiring fear in the gods themselves? Where is the girl who’s fighting for justice and her future? Granted we’re only a hundred pages in at this point, so I’ll excuse it for now.

In the meantime, the king calls Serefin back to the palace for Rawalyk, an event where noble women compete against each other to win the prince’s hand in marriage. Nadya and crew travel to Tranavia and disguise themselves as people participating in the event. I forgot to mention that the Tranavians only use blood magic and hate the gods, and in an effort to keep them out, the king put a barrier around the country, which keeps Nadya from using her powers. Convenient. And so very disappointing. As per their plan, Nadya has to get close enough to the king to kill him, so she uses Rawalyk to gain access. Nadya offends one of the other suitors and the suitor challenges her to an Agni Kai—sorry, different story, a duel, rather. Nadya has to pretend to use blood magic, so she can hide her true identity. Near the point of winning the duel, Nadya realizes it’s to the death, but she doesn’t want to kill the girl, so she tells her she’ll spare her. Then, Malachiasz uses his magic to end the girl’s life. Again, there are male characters forcing the plot forward while the female character’s agency is stripped.

We’re now over two hundred pages in and Nadya hasn’t done shit except for worry about her crush and follow other people. Our narrator is a “powerful” girl, but the most interesting characters are boys and only male characters move the plot forward. I guess, who needs a personality or autonomy when you can have a love interest? To make matters worse, in the middle of all this crap, she’s thinking about her male best friend who died, but is coming back in book two, and not even Forgettable Best Friend who is actively trying to help them. Nadia thinks to herself “Kostya. You’re doing this for Kostya, she reminded herself,” (Duncan 256). Kostya was in this book for like five pages, who the fuck is this bitch? Why does anyone care? Why can’t she be going on this quest for herself, for her country, for her supposedly beloved gods?

YA Fantasies keep prioritizing and valuing the actions of male characters over female ones. There are exceptions, but they only prove the rule. I’ve seen this repeatedly in books like City of Bones, Caraval, Shadow & Bone, Harry Potter, and now Wicked Saints. Some of those books are my favorite books, but if I never critique them, I’ll never want better or search for books that do more. I want to see more YA fantasies treat female characters like their male ones. I want female characters who participate in the narrative, make mistakes, experience success, and, I don’t know, have some ambition and goals. They should use their talents and be integral to the plot, because Wicked Saints’ plot still could have happened without Nadya.

Part Two: Character Development and Effective Plot Structure

Let’s get into this dumpster fire of an ending. While staying at the palace and pretending to be a suitor to the prince, Nadya uncovers parts of Malachiasz’s past and finds out he’s the leader of the Vultures who’s disappeared for reasons unknown. Nayda gets captured and tortured and learns that her gods may not be who she thinks they are, and she has her own power that she can always use. And does she use it? Not really. She questions everything, but not Malachiasz. Him, she makes out with. Nadya’s group and Serefin’s converge and they trust each other because they both want the same thing: the king dead. Serefin knows his father is trying to kill him and uses the help of the misfits, including, plot twist, his cousin, Malachiasz.

Serefin doesn’t understand why his father wants to marry him off and plotting to kill him at the same time, and eventually, Malachiasz talks about his past. He became the leader of the Vultures and was researching the gods when he figured out, in theory, how to become one. He gave this information to the king and you can imagine how a narcissistic king will feel about that. Malachiasz regrets his actions and runs away. Part of the process of becoming a god involves ingesting the blood of powerful magic users, hence the Rawalyk event and Nadya’s torture; they were collecting blood from the suitors. The king also has to sacrifice the prince to complete his goals. Together, they come up with a plan to corner the king while he’s attempting to perform the ceremony to become a god and kill him.

It all goes spectacularly wrong. Serefin gets captured and killed by his father, but he doesn’t die? I don’t know; there were a lot of moths involved and I was very confused. Malachiasz and Nadya go after the king and there’s a mediocre fight scene. Nadya kills the king but not after like three pages of her debating why Malachiasz is just chilling on the throne and watching this all happen. Malachiasz betrays the group, taking the power for himself. Nadya has the nerve to be surprised and heartbroken. He turns into a bird-like thing and flies out the window into the darkness.

The only time Nadya uses her own magic to do something it turns out to be in service to a male character’s goals. I’m tired and I hope you are too. Anyway, this section’s purpose is to look at effective plot structure. Wicked Saints meanders for three hundred pages trying to tie together a book about war, marriage competition, and religion. When the plot points all converge for the last eighty pages, we ultimately learn nothing more than we did at page 200. If this is a book about villains than why are minimally bad things happening? Why did no one die except for the throw away character at the book’s beginning? Why aren’t there more consequences for the character’s actions? My questions are answered by pointing at the poor plot structure and terrible character development. This book is run by boring characters whose actions don’t amount to anything, and that’s when they actually do something. Characters should evolve or devolve depending on the narrative. They should enact the plot, not have the plot happen to them. The few times we get characters changing, it’s followed by the most basic plot twists. Looking at Malachiasz in particular, we meet him while he’s plotting to kill the king with his new acquaintances, then he meets Nadya. She calls him a monster a million times, and he doesn’t deny it. They plot to kill the king again. By the end, we find out he’s only in this for himself and surprise, he’s not a good guy! Did not see that coming.

Continuing my rant on Malachiasz, Wicked Saints has one of the poorest representations of anxiety that I have seen in a long time. (Note: right after this I read Truly Devious and boy, the whip lash I had from that transition. From one the worst to one of the absolute best). Before I rip into this terrible character development, let me discuss two things: one, I don’t know if the author suffers from anxiety. It’s possible that Duncan experiences it very differently than me, and this may be good rep for someone else (I have my doubts about this since I can shred it like wet tissue paper, but I’m willing to mention this possibility). Two, considering Malachiasz’s turn to The Dark Side, it may have been purposeful bad representation. Essentially, he never had anxiety, just needed Nadya to trust him. Okay, with that out of the way, let me scream this: ANXIETY IS NOT CUTE. IT’S NOT A FUN, QUIRKY CHARACTER TRAIT. PLEASE FOR LOVE OF MEDUSA, STOP USING MENTAL ILLNESS AS A CRUTCH FOR YOUR INABILITY TO WRITE COMPLEX CHARACTERS.

The only thing we know about his anxiety is that he bites his nails. Sigh. I’m sorry it’s just that the more I think about it, the angrier I get. Wicked Saints came in an OwlCrate box and in the letter from the author to the reader she describes Malachiasz as “a boy whose earnest anxiety hides monstrous secrets.” Except anxiety doesn’t hide what you’re feeling, in fact it often puts your deepest fears on display for other people to see and usually at the worst moment. Anxiety has a million symptoms, many of which can be observed from the outside and thus easily incorporated from the point of view of a non-anxious character. Here’s a list: panic attacks, hyperventilating, shaking, hypervigilance, irritability, restlessness, sweating, tense muscles, difficulty sleeping, and fatigue. Sometimes Malachiasz displays fatigue and irritability, but it’s when the other characters are in the same headspace, so it doesn’t count, because it can easily be chocked up to circumstance, not mental illness.

If we ignore the author’s implication that his anxiety is earnest and assume that he faked it to gain Nadya’s trust, we get to a problem. The book never explores how he lied or parses through where he’s genuine, so, I have to assume that he was supposed to have anxiety. He’s called a monster so many times I got irritated. Aside the fact that it’s offensive to make the only mentally ill character a “monster,” it’s downright annoying to read a million times. Malachiaz is an attempt at a morally gray character. He makes decisions that only benefit himself, but sometimes he saves lives or kisses a girl, so some parts of him are still good. I’m okay with that, what I’m not okay with is piss poor characterization. People with anxiety can be bad! But if you make your villain anxious, it should be for a better reason than he needed a personality.

After I finished this book, I looked through some Good Reads reviews and many of the users pointed out something I hadn’t noticed. To use the blood magic, characters had to cut themselves, and reviewers found they didn’t like how this glorified self-harm. Many suggested that a trigger warning for self-harm should be placed at the beginning or the magic system should have been handled with more sensitivity. As someone who does not have personal experience with self-harm, I won’t elaborate and instead let other people make of it what they will.

There were two parts of the book’s description that sold me on it: one, the girl talks to gods, and two, a star-crossed romance. We already know how disappointed I was about that first plot point, now let’s talk about the other disappointment of the day. A fantastic rule going around on the internet goes “if they have to kiss for you to know they’re in love, it’s not good romance.”

I will say something that may offend many people, but hopefully you’ll stick with me. Young Adult Fantasy books have bad romances. They’re underdeveloped, poorly crafted, and overused. Romance is my favorite genre, and I love seeing it in other types of books, but many times YA fantasies have the worst romances. Despite being constantly undervalued, romance sells and adding it to books usually helps pique people’s interest. But you don’t just “add” it to your book, because romance is hard to write. Hold on, I need that in capital letters. ROMANCE IS HARD TO WRITE. Good romance comes from nuance, established trust, chemistry, and gradual character developments. If a writer doesn’t do those things, you get insta-love, which isn’t satisfying or believable.

Wicked Saints tries to do an enemies-to-lovers trope. Nadya and Malachiasz don’t spend enough time together to develop a proper friendship much less a romance. They have legitimate reasons to hate each other and neither of them seem to change enough for it to be justified that their feelings have evolved. Nadya loses contact with the gods, but that should serve as a crisis of her own faith, not an automatic belief in something else. Her willingness to ignore Malachiasz’s obvious red flags is beyond frustrating and I can’t believe the book wanted me to be surprised that he betrayed the group at the end. Anyway, it’s time to make some conclusions, otherwise this essay/rant will never end.

Part Three: How Did We Get Here?

Wicked Saints is not the first to do these exact mistakes, and it’s here because of its predecessors. What other books do we know that have a Russian culture theme, a useless female narrator, and a love interest who’s bad? That’s right. I’m about to bring up the internet’s infamous Grisha trilogy. Throughout my entire reading experience, I was struck by the similarities of these books to the point where I was sure I was reading a fanfiction AU of Shadow and Bone. These books are so similar it had me wondering about plagiarism (I’m mostly kidding about that). The Grisha trilogy and Wicked Saints use the same tired tropes and rely on the readers need to self-insert to make up for the narrator’s lack of personality.

How do we get books that shout about feminism but don’t incorporate it? Books are written by humans and humans live in a flawed world. Art doesn’t exist in a vacuum and so many of the things we create are flawed. Sometimes, what we meant to write isn’t what is written. An author may have every intention of creating strong, complex female characters, but through the difficulty of writing, poor planning, and a host of other reasons, the result is a bland, useless character. Many times, these characters are touted for having magnificent powers, but they never seem to use them or if they do its only in small ways. This happens, in part, because if the character is all-powerful then there’d be no plot, so to create tension the author takes the power away, scales it back, or adds an obstacle in the way of using said power. This is all well and great, but it often leaves readers feeling like the book duped them into believing this character is special. People don’t like to feel as though they’ve been lied to. In my opinion, “Gotcha” plots and character developments result from bad writing. With Wicked Saints there weren’t “Gotcha” moments so much as there were “please stop being a dumb bitch” moments. Nadya wanted to fall in love Malachiasz and the whole time I kept asking myself why. He’s a saltine with pretty eyes and fucked up nails. Then there’s Serefin who instead of dealing with his problems, he gets drunk. His big plot point is that he doesn’t die and turns into a swarm of moths for a while which would have been cool if they explained it in any kind of manner.

Stopping the proceeding rant, I should make conclusions and end this before it gets more out of hand. YA fantasies aren’t progressing the way they should, and you could point to several books that do incredible things, but they’re in the minority. YA authors need to make their narrators complex and fully formed instead of literal sawdust. We need authors to create better female and non-binary characters who have the same agency as their male counterparts. They should stop including romance in the first book. Let the characters grow and breathe for a hot second. Gradual bonds made through several books are always more satisfying and well-crafted than a rushed romance in book one. Also, people in the publishing industry, please, please, please use sensitivity readers. Or maybe search for books written by Own Voice authors. I know for a fact there are incredible writers creating amazing works out there. I’ve interacted with them. Someone publish their books before my head explodes.

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