#and the only reason she knew those characters to ostensibly build on their stories IS because of ancient storytellers

[wizardysseus]

i am theoretically very interested in retelling beauty and the beast 1,000 different times if i have that many ideas, but interested in retelling greek mythology 0 times

i know i landed at this point after reading a lot of uninspiring greek mythology retellings but CRUCIALLY i have ALSO read a lot of uninspiring beauty and the beasts — more, even — and honestly i just think the characters i know from homer and the tragedians (which is where the greatest part of my interest lies) are already so well-drawn that i don't know what i have to say about them through the lens and means of another story. yes, there is often something broken in the story, but i wouldn't know how to fix it without making it worse. and neither does anyone in publishing

whereas fairy tales tend to be more vague and held at a distance. in my view fairy tales are more about themes than characters (and plots, but the plots don't have to make sense). which makes them hard to flesh out into novels in a different way, but also leave way more room to demonstrate understanding without needing to be faithful

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director's Cut — Chapter 01

Note: All right, it's been a hot minute since I uploaded anything substantial in regard to this fic. So I'm going to try something a bit risky! I've archived Insult to Injury as you all know it, with the exception of a few errant reblogs outside of my control. But that's neither here nor there; I am very excited to present to all of you all the definitive version of this fic — the Director's Cut, if you will. ;)

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine & OC(s) Warnings: Strong language, intense scenes of violence, general cynicism. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— ACT I —

“Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.” — Paulo Coelho

— Episode I: A THOUSAND DETAILS —

In the sterile comfort of her office, Dr Madeleine Swann stared blankly at her computer monitor. The notification that her application as a psychologist consultant with the Médecins Sans Frontières had been sent six days prior blurred with lack of focus. The location of the mission in question was Conakry, Guinea. Her contract duration would last from the start of May to the end of August; just shy of two months away from now. There was an additional caveat:

All non-ECOWAS foreigners are required to have a valid Guinean visa and a vaccination card in order to be granted entry. Yellow fever vaccination cards are verified upon entry into the country at Gbessia.

Approval for the visa necessitated a seventy-two-hour window of clearance. And it would be at least four weeks until she heard back from the Human Resources Office—up to six if she were unlucky. She sat erect and the movement alone was enough to incite a sharp stab of pain into the back of her head. Through the window the sun cast a reddish glare, obfuscating the monitor and warming the nape of her neck. She shoved her face into the heels of her palms while the pressure in her skull abated to a dull throbbing.

Usually she made a habit of drawing the blinds. There were already enough odd complaints about her office being too cold and sterile passed along by the secretary. It had been a stressful enough week that Madeleine saw no reason to keep the shutters closed, so her clients might have something else to focus on besides four polished wooden walls and the analog clock.

What came off to most outsiders as a cool and direct manner of conduct was simply pragmatism. She had a laptop computer used primarily for sending emails. She recorded the bulk of her notes on patients by-hand and revised by means of portable recorder. She kept no photographs in her home nor office. The casual anecdotes she provided to her colleagues were ostensibly as droll as her taste in décor; though her efforts to blend in had largely gone unappreciated.

There wasn’t anything else immediate to review for tonight. She wished a curt good-night to the secretary before donning her coat and exiting into the crisp evening air.

⁂

It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the clinic to the flat. Above her head the clouds hung grey and pregnant with snow. By the time she had ascended the staircase and opened the door to her apartment her fingers prickled. Numbness seeped into her skin. She’d never much cared for the colder seasons.

“You’re back early,” said Arnaud—a fellow Sociology major from her college days. After graduating from Oxford, Madeleine had taken his offer to return to Paris and transfer over to the 8tharrondissement with the understanding that they would be rooming together. Her colleagues back then often referred to them as friends-with-benefits as Madeleine had showed little interest in dating before. After three years of cohabitation, her co-workers at the office wondered how she and Arnaud remained so cordial while balancing their careers and relationship.

“Yes.” Madeleine hung up her coat, noting that he had not yet changed out of his own. “I submitted my request with the MSF a week ago. If I am accepted I’ll be working as a psychologist consultant. In that case, I’ll be out of the country until August at least.”

“Well, you’ve never landed a position that didn’t suit you.” Madeleine smiled politely. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked away from him towards the window. “You could open the blinds. It's very bright in here with the lights on.”

“There’s hardly much to look at when the sun is in your eyes. Isn’t that what you say?”

For the most part, Arnaud was easy to live with. Neither of them required financial support and he was of equitable social standing. Her relentless volunteer work did not always lend much time to get to know his inner mind. “It’s late. Are you going out again?”

“No, I got back first. And it’s fortunate. You looked awfully cold when you came in.”

“I can hardly control the weather. And you needn’t worry, I always carry a key on me.”

“Madeleine, we live together. It wouldn’t be right to avoid you. But you know, if I were going out to an unscrupulous club it would make for a pretty good story.”

“Hm.”

“And knowing you,” Arnaud continued, “you probably won’t be going out drinking. The sunrise disturbs you in the mornings, and you woke up before I did, at seven. I assume you’ve been busy all day. In just a few weeks you’ll be working that much harder. You ought to get some rest while you can.”

“So,” a little cooler, “you’ll be another mission?”

“Most likely.”

“All these countries must seem the same after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. When was the last time you volunteered out of the country? 2011?”

Arnaud laughed. “Jesus, this isn’t a competition.”

“But it’ll give you something to talk about to your friends while I am away.”

Arnaud said nothing. Madeleine frowned. She went into the other room and began to change. He could not approach her in the same casual manner as his peers, nor dissect her outright. His life was one of prestige as well as privilege, and Madeleine could not foster any underlying resentment towards him for acting in his nature. The silence held, strained. Then Arnaud said:

“It’s always been important to you. That’s what should matter.”

⁂

In two weeks’ time she got a response from the HRO; the initial interview was scheduled shortly thereafter. By the middle of April she was making preparations to depart. Thanks to Arnaud’s tactic of avoidance she had little reason to tell him the details. No one would know where she was headed unless they broke inside her laptop and hunted through her mail. The situation in Guinea had kicked into mainstream awareness back in February for a week or so before gradually sinking back into obscurity.

Reports from several news outlets cited the emergence of an outbreak primarily affecting South Africa. Originating inland, a mysterious illness that revealed itself first with fever and spells of vomiting, then gradually ate away at the flesh of those afflicted and bore their bones and muscle, vulnerable to further rot. More emboldened journalists had taken to calling it the Red Death on account of this. Neither a cure nor a place or origin had been discovered.

The situation had not improved in the last two months so much as stabilised. Madeleine had been assured several times over email and electronic conference that those working in the field had already taken precautions, and she’d be instructed further on what to do upon her arrival. She was issued a few pamphlets and strongly advised to vaccinate before boarding the flight. Which she had done, but it was very kind of them to remind her.

In spite of Arnaud’s apparent disinterest, his last words to her before she departed had been: “Last year it was four missions. I'd never seen you so tired. I wish I knew what you’re trying to prove.”

After managing to get some sleep on the plane she touched down Conakry International Airport around mid-morning and contacted the Project Coordinator; a shorter man in his mid-forties with a photogenic smile and toupee. He clasped her hand in both of his clammy ones and said: “Very glad you've made it, Doctor. We need you on-site in twenty minutes. Make sure you are ready.” Her luggage was dropped off on the second floor of the Grand Hotel de L’independence, where she and the other MSF members would be rooming. The staff were polite enough, though their attention was fixed on the Project Coordinator.

Her room was spare and a little dingy, and the only means of fresh air came from opening the window and polluting the room with outside noise, but it was at least reasonably clean. A fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. No reason to delay the inevitable.

Upon reaching Donka Hospital she met up with the rest of the team, most notably the Medical Coordinator, and the Psychosocial Unit. It soon became apparent that there were still not enough medical doctors to handle the influx of infected. An isolation ward had been established before the MSF’s involvement, but they were reportedly at full capacity; the workers in there were clad in full-body personal protective equipment. Another section of the grounds had been set aside and fenced off; rows of tents all lined up, reminding Madeleine distantly of a prisoner’s accommodations. No matter where you went the stench of rot always seemed to hang pervasively in the air.

She was paired off with another psychologist by the name of John Herrmann; American, around her age. He was of a friendlier disposition than she was used to, introducing her semi-formally to the rest of the group before adding:

“So, one thing you should know now, we’ve been having problems with the electricity on site as well as the hotel. There’s no running water either.”

“This isn’t my first mission with MSF. And I lived out in the countryside when I was small. I know how to look after myself.”

Herrmann smiled. “That’s fair.” He scratched his neck. “The mosquitoes are worse. Bug nets won’t help worth a damn. Make sure you close your windows at night, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I see.” The humidity combined with the smell off-road were already becoming intolerable. But she did not want to appear so snobbish or weak in front of someone she would be monitoring for the next three months. “I won’t go any easier on you just because you are unaccustomed to the environment.”

 “See ,that’s the kind of attitude we need around here!” He clapped a hand on her back; Madeleine regarded him levelly until he relented. “Good to have you on the team.”

The other members on the Psychosocial Unit were as amicable with Madeleine as the situation permitted. None of them got on her nerves as much as Herrmann. His enthusiasm was never to the point of seeming false or obsequious, but he remained just enough of a go-getter to piss her off. After a week of monitoring them she came away with the impression that Herrmann was genuine. He had been consistently genial with the clientele and hospital staff alike, no matter the severity of their condition. She saw no reason to socialise with him outright. The most he ever noted about her mood was: “You’re pretty reticent for a psychologist consultant.”

“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Herrmann shrugged. “I can respect that. We all deal with the situation in our own ways.” He paused. “I can see why the Project Coordinator wanted you. You’re handling this situation a lot better than I would have.”

“Thank you.”

“The workload must be insane compared to what you’re normally used to. I know it took me time to adjust—" he stopped as Madeleine threw him a look of confusion “—what is it?”

“Back home, I am usually referred to as what one would call a workaholic. Or didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No offence taken.”

The higher temperature was not so bad as the humidity that slapped her in the face whenever stepping outside—according to the forecasts, it was only going to get worse within the coming months. There was no manner of ventilation or air-conditioning in the hotel so often times she had to draw the curtains and keep her hair back. She resigned herself by reminding herself that it was better than sleeping in a tent.

There wasn’t much time to be hung-up on much else besides her assignment. The members of the Psychosocial Unit all looked good on paper, but they betrayed their inexperience through a shared level of idealism towards the mission that Madeleine deemed ill-fated. She did not blame them. Young, perhaps fresh out of school, looking to make a difference in the world without truly anticipating the gravity of the situation. Their time spent observing the crises of the rest of the world through the lens of journalism and outside empathy could not compare with the experience of actually sitting down and listening to the stuff their patients talked of with prosaic seriousness.

It often sounded outrageous when Madeleine played back the recordings, taking down notes in the quiet, stuffy hotel room. Mortality was an expected outcome, and the implication of negligence by their government a common topic of discussion among patients. Most conversations were conducted in French or else by way of an interpreter, though the antagonism in the voices of these patients needed no translation.

There was a growing disparity between the narrative put into circulation by the news and what was happening in the field. According to several members of the MSF and the staff at Donka, the media blew the problem out of proportion. The people whose condition had kicked off the “Red Death” story had been subjected to long-term exposure. Most of the patients that came through were not in that same condition, but it created an illusion of immediacy that incited concern in the public eye and a need for donations. Government officials wanted to cover up the severity of the situation as not to detract from any potential business opportunities; until the MSF got involved, they were only employing the most rudimentary of safety procedures.

This latter revelation had shaken up the Psychosocial Unit considerably; Dr Herrmann had lost his patience with the Medical Coordinator. To this end, he’d apologised profusely to Madeleine afterwards though she would hear none of it. Whatever he felt about the situation was not necessarily invalid, but out of consideration for their patients, he would not bring it up again.

Herrmann never held it against her. So Madeleine busied herself in her own work. Whatever quiet camaraderie forged between the other MSF members was not her business. When pressed for advice, she would talk calmly, carefully with the rest of the team about what would be optimal but never overreach. In the sweltering nights and throughout the early morning, Madeleine would pore over her notes, listening to the passing automobiles and indistinct conversation carried over by civilians.

⁂

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff and Medical Unit, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a consequence of the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their Project Coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack. Outright criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Kessler; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times beforehand, at the discreet behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and reserved and wouldn’t be seen socialising with any of the younger MSF who all talked about him as though he were some out-of-touch stick-in-the-mud. As the situation in the hospital became more dire he would stay behind on-site, late into the evening. Whenever they had a break, he would disappear on calls. Once he came back late by only a few minutes and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down, his attention turned towards the path back to the infected ward. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the Project Coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“I’m flattered. But it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Kessler chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” He froze up, didn’t answer immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough on calls, and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

Comprehension dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed. “Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded stoically. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Kessler seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation as this. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Kessler shook his head. In a few minutes they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own social grave without further interference.

By the time July rolled around Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from looming insurrection.

Madeleine stopped the recording. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. Just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind wouldn't settle on either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Kessler. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the Project Coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the Project Coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated, around three or four in the morning. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of Kerberos the losses were minimal. Several doctors had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. Others, such as Drs Kessler and Herrmann, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the hospital doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack, but as a failed interception of an attack by local terrorists, stopped by the FSPs.

“Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent would presume a Czech or Russian background but his complexion and eye colour invited room for ambiguity. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, Madeleine had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Kessler?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

 “That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the Project Coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to his side. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She'd forgotten to lock it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Kessler?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“But you were asked to monitor Dr Kessler.”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Kessler was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Kessler and the Project Coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the Project Coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her became sharper. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Kessler exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I got up and closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept any apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Kessler’s lifestyle outside of the MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his work. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor immediately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “Thank you for your cooperation. The Project Coordinator is waiting for you downstairs.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Unit was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint until daybreak.

When she’d arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you again. No one else will come looking for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around she was undoubtedly safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

⁂

July brought hotter weather and brittle peace—the vaccines had finally arrived. The wing of the hospital that had suffered the terrorist attack was still closed and they had lost several more staff members wounded in the initial attack. Madeleine and the remaining MSF were encouraged by the Project Coordinator to take earlier shifts. Progress remained steady but there was no clear resolution in sight. The stench of rot imprinted into Madeleine’s senses to the point where she no longer consciously registered her own nausea. Discontent among the staff continued to bubble under the surface on account of the closed wing and bad press.

It couldn't last forever.

A week away from August. Just another humid morning at six AM. Madeleine rose and prepared herself mentally for the day ahead. Stress kept her mind working late into the night, but her position with the Psychosocial Unit barred her from working overtime in the hospital. She was overwhelmed with keeping up the pace, not yet to the point of exhaustion.

There was an inordinate of activity on the road outside as she got dressed and left the room. She put it out of her mind.

Outside the hotel she met up with the Medical Coordinator and a few members of the Logistics Unit. They spent about ten minutes standing idle in the humid air, too weary to speak. The streets were usually empty this time of day.

An unremarkable black Jeep pulled up. The Medical Coordinator opened the door and was about to step into the car when it happened. The Medical Coordinator’s head burst over the interior of the vehicle and Madeleine. The body slumped like a doll to the dirt. Madeleine wanted to scream but could not. She turned and found herself facing down the barrel of a rifle.

Around a dozen men with guns, sans insignia, circled them. The man who had fired addressed her harshly in French: “Where are the rest of the MSF? Why are they not at the hospital?”

“I don’t understand.” Madeleine could see another group of men approaching from the rear. A massacre, onset.

“We’ve been waiting for months for a solution, and you have been injecting us with a useless vaccine.” He aimed right at her sternum. “Your doctors gave them all false hope for months. Now the MSF have abandoned you.”

“You have been protecting them!” the insurgent roared, levelling his weapon. “All this time! You knew why they were here, and you allowed them to experiment on our families like dogs!”

The man at his left turned and fired. The insurgent fell dead. “That’s enough.” One of the men from Kerberos in plainclothes. A dozen more in military gear materialised as if from nowhere. “There is no need for additional bloodshed,” said the plainclothes. “Release them now or you will be shot.”

All around her at once, gunfire. Madeleine didn't wait to see who had fired first. She prostrated herself, hands clasped over her neck, breath clogged in her throat.

All sound ceased. Her head continued to ring. Her eyes were open but she did not process the colour staining her skin, on her clothes, the smell of it. She hadn’t been shot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Heavy footsteps approaching. She closed her eyes awaiting the kiss of metal at her temple.

“Dr Swann.” Madeleine shrunk away instinctively from the gloved hand upon her forearm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Another soldier pulled her upright. Sight of blood on dry earth briefly mixed up with blood spattered across wooden floorboards. Madeleine went limp. Ushered into the backseat of an unmarked Jeep, she could not stop trembling. Shoulder-to-shoulder with another man she recognised as head of Logistics, Peter Miller. The door slammed shut, jolting her back into her own body. Sound of the ignition set her into trembling. Miller’s naked hand materialised on her shoulder. His voice overtaken by the roaring in her ears. Madeleine bowed her head into her hands like a child, whispering: “Ne me tuez pas. Je n’ai rien fait. Je ne sais rien.”

[ganymedesclock]

I absolutely love your Hollow Knight headcanons, and I have a question because I'm curious what your thoughts on this are: do you have any headcanons about Lemm? What's his deal, where did he come from? Furthermore, how do you think the interaction would go if he ended up meeting Quirrel at some point?

Hollow Knight is one of those exciting SpIn franchises for me where if I don’t have headcanons about a particular character I’ll string ‘em together pretty quickly because I just like the world that much.

Lemm, incidentally, I have thought about! So I’ll just toss out a sorta randomized tasting platter here under the cut.

Lemm offhandedly mentions other relic seekers but rather than a scholarly order he suggests they’d be jealous of him or compete with him, so he clearly has peers. He also tells Ghost that if they want to move into the City of Tears he’d prefer they pick an empty building AWAY from the one he’s taken over.

He’s shown to be finicky, obstinate, and argumentative- possibly other relic seekers are closer to each other than they are to him- but even when he really, really wants something from Ghost, he’s fair with them, and he is honest with them about how much each is worth. (He doesn’t try to con you on the arcane eggs, and is sincere about how much it means to him.) He also seems to actually enjoy Ghost as an audience, and like talking about it. The description for the Void Idol suggests that Ghost potentially hangs around Lemm and learns from him more than we necessarily ‘see’ in canon.

I interpret Lemm as a wholly mundane sort of bug, no magical aptitude, but as someone who is quite brawny and physically powerful. I just like the idea that in some kind of modern supernatural AU he’d be the ostensible normal everyman keeping up, frustratedly, with all of this mystical stuff happens but then they get ambushed by a zombie and Lemm just lays it out. Overall this guy’s about as much of a desk jockey as Indiana Jones- he mentions doing long treks through the city avoiding husks.

So, to spin what I imagine might be a probable backstory; he seems less like someone who’s accustomed to loneliness or isolation, but rather someone who seeks it out. Possibly grew up in a big family with a lot of siblings, or otherwise a very rowdy environment where he felt like not much room was made for his interests and passions and him having things the way he wants them. Isolation alone doesn’t make him happy, though he seems the type to insist he is (not after neighbors, and all)- really, more than anything, he wants to be listened to and feel like someone is paying attention to him, I think.

He seems to be highly educated and may be something of an elitist snob about it at first glance, but, again, feeding into a kind of defensiveness.

Possibly his interest in history is a kind of compassion? He seems obsessed with the Hollow Knight and the identity of the Five Great Knights, so his own fear of being forgotten (?) / resentment at being overlooked may be something he tries to extend to others. He seeks those who were obscured by history. He’s more cynical about the Pale King than he is about the knights, but even then, he talks about the King’s Idols like he wonders who that person was, as well.

So, yeah, I like this mental image- young Lemm coming from an aristocratic family (his character colors match those of the aristocrat husks) but an overlooked ‘middle child’ too far from the inheritance to feel like he mattered much and entering some kind of major academia institution to prove himself and seek acclaim, only to become irritated and disillusioned with that / in part make enemies for his argumentative personality- and then putting everything he had on his back and heading to Hallownest because he’s out of patience with it all.

Which leads me to... Quirrel.

Quirrel is a living relic and he is an overlooked witness to an erased chapter of Hallownest’s history- the fate of the three Dreamers, and, through them, the Hollow Knight. He’s a key witness to the exact subject of Lemm’s obsession and a record who was not really purged, even if the pieces are in disarray, and wander in and out of his recollection.

Unfortunately rather than a tablet or archive Lemm can pour over and delve into with all of his skills, Quirrel is a person with feelings and opinions, and some of them are that, as an academic, Quirrel has a very different stance to Lemm. 

Quite simply, Quirrel’s perspective seems far more transformative than curatorial. He emphasizes seeing things with new eyes and open awe. He’s happy that he forgot much of himself, even for a time, that he could experience it all new again. The past should serve the future. This seems to be a mentality he shared with Monomon, who when she herself is ‘the past’, is actively motivated and seeks to disable her protections and help Ghost end her life in order to ensure a future- the very reason she became a Dreamer in the first place.

Quirrel’s entire story is about letting go. I don’t personally read his conclusion as an act of suicide, but rather, the symbolic death of Quirrel the Archivist- the last tie he had to his former life. So he plants his nail on the shores of the lake, and leaves to be a new person- to see what comes next with new eyes. He cared about Monomon too much to not carry her with him, to not come back to see her off, but with that done, what he did as part of this ancient magical kingdom really doesn’t matter to him anymore. The people he cared about are gone. He’s going to look forwards and move on.

Assuming he encounters Lemm specifically after this point, this would scientifically speaking drive Lemm up the fucking wall.

Quirrel doesn’t tell and Lemm usually doesn’t ask but that idiosyncratic habit of just spouting off knowledge of ancient worlds and people and shrugging it off, like, well, that’s an interesting anecdote isn’t it! and Lemm is just, no, come back here you bastard don’t depart on a tangent about wrought iron infrastructure this is my lifework we’re talking about.

It’d be a certain amount of comedy but in another sense they have great potential to learn from each other. Quirrel very much surrenders unto the flow in many ways- which is powerful in that it’s probably protected him from the plague for a long time, his ability to let go rather than being tempted down dangerous paths by stray dreams- but, also, it’s clear from his voice and body language that losing Monomon cost him more than he wants to examine; his willingness to move on might be him being a bit dismissive about his own grief.

Lemm, meanwhile, has maybe spent his entire life up to this point doubling down so hard that he’s broken friendships, estranged family, and pissed off colleagues. This stuff has to matter. Someone has to listen to him. He has to know who these people are that disappeared off into the world because it isn’t just as good as they weren’t there! They knew things! They changed things! They did SOMETHING and if no one else wrote it down, he guesses that’s his job! It’s the only way he knows how to care about things.

So Quirrel lets go a little too much, including things he’s not actually over, and Lemm clings to things to such a degree that it seems to have driven him to isolation, even when he’s happier with someone to talk to about his work.

Also one of them’s a samurai and the other’s a self-taught pugilist who isn’t above cracking some skulls and shells with weighty antiques so if you happen to end up on the wrong end of both of them at the same time, heaven help you. 

Possibly, at some point, Quirrel concedes the Madam probably wouldn’t have wanted her archive to rot when the living could make use of it and starts a transcribing project and Lemm goes absolutely fucking ape.

[nautilusopus]

do you have any favorite books?

Coraline by Neil Gaiman is the obvious answer lol. Still my favourite book to this day, obviously hugely influential in my own bullshit. Seriously check it out if you can find a copy, it’s pretty short and absolutely worth your time.

The Devil’s Storybook by Natalie Babbitt and its sequel (The Devil’s Other Storybook) are more of an anthology of short stories starring the Devil, who occupies every role from vague background presence to put-upon protagonist that are funny and thought-provoking and genuinely clever and that pissed enough people off that it was a banned book for a while. “The Imp in the Basket” is the kind of short story I wish more people knew about and wanted to sincerely discuss what actually happened at the end.

ugh i haven’t read a book i actually enjoyed in over ten years at this point uhhhhhh

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I think potentially the only classic I had to read in school that I genuinely liked and actually finished in one sitting on my own time. And I think the first time any themes a book had for me actually clicked and I was able to do any kind of meta analysis of it completely unprompted. Baby’s first literary comprehension. Slaughterhouse-Five is a semi-autobiographical piece set during the bombing of Dresden in WWII, and also some period in the “future” (the 80s lol), and ALSO on an alien planet as the protagonist is abducted and taken to a human zoo. The story is told achronologically, and I feel is hugely influential to my own shit where it skips around, building a narrative almost entirely by juxtaposing specific moments in time against one another. It's surreal and thought-provoking, and if you only ever make yourself read one classic, it should be this one. *

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien. Bear in mind this thing has fuck-all to do with the movie, and while in retrospect I now am able to enjoy the Don Bluth movie as its own thing, I remember being fucking furious when they busted out a goddamn magical amulet. It’s a different kind of story, but is more magic realism than outright fantasy, and the titular rats get a lot more backstory, as does the late Mr. Frisby iirc.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. God that book fucked me up. It is about a snotty porcelain toy rabbit that gets dropped overboard a ship into the ocean one day, and the various owners he has over the years as he changes hands, and the impacts they have on him, and it makes me fucking cry every time and is to date the only book to ever do so so fairly warned be ye. Fucking shit I wish I could dish out gut-punches half as good as that book could.

The His Dark Materials trilogy by Phillip Pullman, which in and of itself is an angry rebuttal against everything the Chronicles of Narnia has to say, as well as Christianity in general. You’ve probably seen shit floating around about the HBO series, which I have not watched. Lyra is a horrible gremlin child running wild around a parallel universe Oxford until she accidentally stumbles onto a conspiracy that goes all the way to the Church which unofficially runs the government and eventually starts an interdimensional war against God. The first two books I think are better than the last one, which really drags in spots (and in a twist of irony had Lyra’s sexual awakening censored from the North American release which like... come on man). Absolutely worth checking out though, especially if you’re an angry pedant like I am.

Tales from the House of Bunnicula, by James Howe. Honestly the entire "Bunnicula Expanded Universe"(???) is great, but in particular I'm mentioning this sub-series because I think it actually kind of taught me to write. The framing device used is that they're being written by Howe's pet dog and sent in to him to publish by proxy. On top of having just a lot of good storytelling tips for beginners (how to create a plot! how to create character motivations! how to write female characters like actual people!), they're also fun little satire pieces of various kinds of genre fiction. Like, the third book is a riff on Harry Potter and making fun of all of JKR's worst writing tendencies, like her compulsion to phonetically write out everyone's fucking accent.

these days i'm just too picky to enjoy books anymore idfk. you have no idea how fucking disheartening it was growing up with actual taste (snooty snooty snoot) and watching everyone go nuts over stuff like divergent and eragon and maximum ride and fuckmothering twilight and shit. like, yeah misogyny absolutely played into why people shat on it because teenage girls aren't allowed to like anything, but lest we forget they were still shitty books guys. that never stopped being true or anything. and you were a social pariah if you didn't like them and that sucked. and then a couple ostensibly good series, like harry potter and artemis fowl and hunger games just dropped the fucking ball for one reason or another as they went on and never picked it back up. i think the mid 2000s almost singlehandedly just killed any real enthusiasm i had for reading altogether (this is not even getting into the fact a lot of really fucking bad "grown-up" novels came out around that period too. whole era was a baaaad time for books). so here i am writing, i guess, because i've decided you fuckers can't be trusted to make anything good yourselves. if you want something done right...

(*I like to think if Cloud wrote a book he’d write something like Slaughterhouse-Five. I think at one point I was even working on a fic along those lines -- a fictional story vaguely based off the burning of Nibelheim and the fall of Shinra that was written, in-universe, by Cloud several years later. Abandoned it just because of how fucking complicated it would be to do. Might come back to it one day.)

[drivingsideways]

The Rebel Princess review/ spoilers upto ep 12

Under the cut

At the end of 12 episodes I have to say I’m..underwhelmed. I mean, I knew going into a 68 episode drama that it was going to be really slow for most parts, but it’s still hard going even with low expectations.

I think the first thing that threw me was Zhang Ziyi playing a 15 year old. Don’t get me wrong- I don’t think it’s her looks per se that make it unbelievable-she’s incredibly youthful and beautiful, of course. And I’m well aware of the sexist double standards re: casting, and I’ve generally always hated it when older actors are cast in roles of teenagers or people about two decades younger than they are! It’s just that I don’t think she’s suited to the cutesy/naive A’wu that we meet in the initial episodes. You can see the effort she’s putting into it and that makes it all the more apparent that she isn’t that character. I just didn’t buy into the performance, I think. It’s only in episode 12, in the scene where she learns about her father’s and aunt’s lies re: Xiao Qi that I felt that spark you feel when an actor is totally in sync with their character in a scene. (Her earlier “big scene” after the wedding felt more ho-hum to me, though heaps more engaging than anything that had gone on before then.)  

But Zhang Ziyi’s strained performance is not the only problem I’ve had with this part; it’s that fundamentally I just can’t buy into the idea that A’wu is the person she is when we meet her- seemingly utterly unaware of how the society around her works, or her position in it? She’s reached marriageable age- though not by modern standards of course-  i.e. she’s entered into adulthood, and is presumably not unintelligent or entirely blind, but she seems downright surprised by the fact that she should be expected to marry for reasons other than love, or that other people around her, in her family even, have done so. I can buy that she thought she would be the exception to the rule, because she has been pampered all her life, but she seems actually astonished that the rule exists! Or that other people may be ok with not marrying for love, but have other considerations (See early conversation with Xie Wanru regarding Xiao Qi).  It speaks to a laziness of characterization/ world building for me. We are meant to accept A’wu’s incredible naivete re: marriage as plausible for a woman of her age and  societal position, in the same breath that we have to accept the multiple rape/ threatened rape storylines as historically accurate/ plausible because women were tightly controlled as a class. Watch me roll my eyes so hard that they’re falling off my face. 

But I’m hoping to god that now that we’ve put the “woman-child” part of the story behind us, things will improve! 

The other thing I feel that keeps me..whelmed..is the general pov choices. The story is ostensibly being told by A’wu- she is literally narrating it to the audience. Yet for extended periods we have to leave her pov to get all the plot machinations in place. There’s also a time skip of approximately 6-8 months after her marriage to when we meet her next; in that time, she seems to have made peace with the fact that the great love of her life whom she sacrificed her life for turned out to be a wuss, and also somehow magically “grown up”. The naive A’wu we saw has disappeared and instead we have grown up A’wu who’s quite capable of manipulation and running a household (and from spoilers I’ve seen, become adept at military strategy etc). I mean, it’s GREAT, for the character, but the transition feels sudden, presented like a fait accompli. I wish we’d gotten to see those 6-8 months in Huizhou is what I’m saying, or even earlier hints of her talents and interests. But we were stuck in “I’m a young, pampered princess in love, I have no thoughts beyond getting married” mode for like ten episodes. If they’d laid a little more ground then, and also given us some more of those 6-8 months, I would have enjoyed it. But then, I suppose that requires an entire different kind of story telling focus. This show, despite being titled “The Rebel Princess” doesn’t seem to really be about *her *. That’s probably an expectation mismatch between me and the show (I haven’t read the novel or any of the press/ previews etc), so I’m having to swallow my disappointment a bit! 

As usual, and this is specifically a me thing, I admit, I’m more interested in the “supporting” characters than in the leads. And again, specifically me-thing, I love the awful ones the MOSTEST. 

I LOVE Wang Lin. I love the actor, I love the scheming, and I honestly think he’s literally the only character that makes any kind of sense in this story so far. Am I supposed to be horrified that he’s willing to barter his daughter for retaining the family’s power? On the contrary, I think A’wu needed a solid dose of reality and maybe a little time living her maid’s life so that she could understand just how right her dad is. *shrug hands emoji * . I’m  50 x more interested in Wang Lin and Jin Ruo’s Terrible and Complicated Marriage than in Xiao Qi and A’wu making doe-eyes at each other, sorry, not sorry. 

I also love Xie Wanru; I know she’s probably going to come to a terrible end, after getting her shot at being Supporting Villainess until the Real Main (Male) Villain can fully take over etc. Still, she has done nothing wrong in her life and I fully support her in her quest for revenge. 

Su Jin Er’s story in Ep 11/12 was incredibly poignant and heartbreaking for me; even though I objectively understand that what she did to Zidan was rape. I know she’s also being set up as plot point for Xie Wanru’s villainy to bloom, and idk, will probably die in the next few episodes. Alas. I shall have to write the fic where Su Jin Er survives her punishment and goes on to live happily ever after with a beautiful boy of her choice and lots of money from idk black market trading of grain or something, I accept this and I will do it. 

Surprise entrant for GIRL I AM ROOTING WITH ALL MY HEART FOR is A’wu’s sister in law, who’s fucking the second prince and refusing to produce a Wang clan heir right under the nose of that Incredibly Smart Villain  Daddy Wang Lin;  honestly that reveal was the best second best thing the show has done so far.

The best thing the show has done so far was when a giant bat swooped down and kidnapped A’wu from the marketplace in ep 11...I was HOLLERING. 

Anyways, I am going to keep watching mostly for my queen Zhang Ziyi, spoilers I’ve seen in the tag indicate that the next set of episodes will be actually good? *cross fingers *

[midrashic]

For the title ask meme, the "Two Stories" and "Haunting of Hill House" ones?

TWO STORIES

i try not to think too hard about this one because of the guilt 😂 it’s a fandom trumps hate fill, which means that i absolutely WILL write it. someday. the idea is that it’s fake married, but twice over: mi6 assigns a gorgeous wunderkind to provide technical support as bond infiltrates an arms dealer or somesuch, and then years later, after skyfall, bond and the wunderkind (now q) have to go undercover as a married couple again at a couples resort that is a front for some nefarious business.

an excerpt!

“Come in, 007,” Tanner crackled through his earpiece. “Tell her I don’t need micromanaging,” he said bluntly. “Well, you’re getting it regardless,” M’s voice cut in past Tanner’s protestations, as he knew she would. “Initial satellite scans have informed us that Mr. Friedrich’s security systems are far more advanced than we originally anticipated. The reason there are so few guards is that everything is automated—and on a closed system, so we can’t help you from here.” “Shall I just blow a hole in the wall, then?” Bond asked dryly. “Control yourself, Bond. We’ve detailed a specialist to assist you with the technical portions of the job. Try not to get him killed.” “That was once, and he was an FSB plant.” “Regardless,” M said unsympathetically. “Check your phone for the details. We’ll likely lose you once you’re inside the building, which is what the technical assistance is for. And I don’t need to remind you—the German government does not know we’re running this operation, and we’d like to keep it that way.” Tanner muttered something uncomplimentary-sounding from far enough away that the microphone couldn’t pick it up. “Quite,” M said crisply, obviously not caring either whether Bond had heard or hadn’t, and clicked off as abruptly as she’d come on. Bond rolled his eyes and glanced at his phone, taking in the baby-faced features of a tech even greener-looking than the teenager the CIA had running SciOps. Lovely. At least they’d be close enough to speak in person instead of over comms; if he had to tell one more idiot not to touch their ear when speaking into an earpiece he might turn actively homicidal instead of his usual passive lethality.

IT-HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE

last year i watched it part 2 and went insane when i realized bill denbrough & steven crain are the same character. 😔 still salty that all the richie/eddie fic means i couldn’t prompt this for yuletide last year. anyway, this is a short-ish relationship study of bill & steven encountering each other in the LA writer’s circuit, sort-of-accidentally falling in love, & discovering that actually each of the horrors they’ve written about are real, and that maybe they’re attracted to the darkness and those who write it.

an excerpt!

Steven has heard of Bill Denbrough, of course. Blurbs with words like “spine-chilling,” blockbusting movies… crappy endings. He’s one of the bigger horror writers in the field, and based in LA, too, but the two of them have to go to Vegas to meet. They’re at CreeperCon, the biggest horror convention in the Western US, and someone has the bright idea of getting Steven to fill in when Joe Hill drops out of the headline panel. Steven’s a big enough name for it, to be sure, but he’s the only nonfiction writer on a panel ostensibly about horror inspiration. He thinks everyone in the audience knows how he gets his inspiration. They shake hands before the panel. Denbrough is distracted, glancing out at the crowd. Searching for someone, maybe, Steven thinks. He knows that ever since… ever since Hill House, he finds himself looking for Nell at the oddest times. Denbrough has a firm handshake, bordering on too-tight, but his hand is cool and dry and Steven has had worse meetings. They take their seats, plush and yet somehow terribly unergonomic red velvet chairs all in a line behind a long table. Ruth Ware is moderating; Steven makes a mental note to tell her how much he loved her latest novel. (He hasn’t read it. He’s not much of a horror fan.) The panel goes well. Steven talks a little about interviewing technique. Denbrough is wry and self-deprecating, in spite of the way his latest film grossed $600 million. Steven doesn’t see Nell. Everything is fine.

actually i quite like both of these. wow, i wish writing didn’t suck. thanks cas 💛

[ the meme in question ]

[a-dandelion-dreamer]

Word Wanderings Post #1 – The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

This is the beginning of a reread. I’ve loved this author for years and The Raven Cycle is a particular favourite of mine. Please note that if you haven’t read this book, this post will definitely contain spoilers!

The Raven Boys is the first book in a quartet and juggles a multitude of characters, including our four main characters (Gansey, Ronan, Adam and Blue) and our plus one (Noah). While it does have some external conflict, it is mainly driven by the characters and their relationships with one another. This book is complex and dense with detail, with a structure that is a little unusual. Most books or series have a driving hook that catches readers right at the beginning and is the selling tagline. For example, in the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan, it’s Percy finding out he’s secretly a demigod, which directly turns into monsters attacking him and his mom disappearing. In the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, it’s the existence of a game that forces children to fight to the death and then subsequently Katniss volunteering to take her sister’s place at the Reaping. In Six of Crows, it’s a crew of six misfits embarking upon an impossible heist.

Ostensibly, the hook of this book is that Blue is destined to kill her true love with a kiss. That’s what it says on the back of the book, and it’s certainly an overarching threat present for the rest of the series. Tied in as well is Gansey’s search for Glendower, a sleeping king Gansey believes is buried somewhere on a ley line. This is another whole-series thread. The real heart of the story, however, is the boys and Blue and their friendship and their interactions with the other messy pieces of their lives and their search to find meaning and happiness. This type of storytelling is not for everyone, especially those who might enjoy more action-driven tales, but it’s the kind of storytelling I love.

(And in writing and other personal creative projects, I think it’s important to let what you love drive you forwards).

Here are three points I took away from reading this book:

 Point #1: Keeping readers interested by embedding small mysteries

The trick is to make your readers want to know what happens next. This is something I have trouble with and therefore I’m particularly interested in seeing how other books handle it.

Each chapter in this book is written from a different character’s perspective. I’ll include the first and last lines (which I think are brilliantly done) in the form: (first line/last line). Following that, I’ll describe some mysteries that the chapter raises.

Prologue: Blue (“Blue Sargent had forgotten how many times she’d been told that she would kill her true love.”/”’You’re Maura’s daughter,’ Neeve said, and before Blue could answer, she added, “this is the year you’ll fall in love.’”) – pg. 1-4

We’re introduced to the idea that Blue will kill her true love if she kisses him

Which immediately raises the question: who is he? And how does she get from being determined not to fall in love to killing someone with a kiss?

We learn about Blue’s psychic family, which I think is super interesting

Blue’s half-aunt Neeve comes to town and really hits us with that: “This is the year you’ll fall in love.” Pay attention, that line says.

Chapter 1: Blue (“It was freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrived.”/“’There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve, Blue. Either you’re his true love,’ Neeve said, ‘or you killed him.’”) – pg.  5-16

Blue and Neeve watch for the future dead

Blue, the only non-psychic in her family, sees a spirit for the first time

The guy she’s destined to kill or fall in love with (or both)

His name is Gansey, and now we’re wondering who he is

Chapter 2: Gansey (“’It’s me,’ said Gansey.”/”’That seems obvious,’ he answered. ‘We find out who you were talking to.’”) – pg. 17-28

Brilliant cut to Gansey

This guy is very real and because of the previous scene, we want to know who he is

We learn about his quest, which adds another layer of mystery

Gansey also heard Blue, on his recorder, so now he’s wondering about her

We ask ourselves: how will these two meet?

Also, introduces Gansey’s friends Adam and Ronan

Ronan has a tumultuous relationship with his brother Declan

THEY HAVE A NUMBER FOR A PSYCHIC (guess who belongs to a psychic family)

Chapter 3: Blue (“Mornings at 300 Fox Way were fearful, jumbled things.”/”’Blue,’ Maura said finally. ‘I don’t have to tell you not to kiss anyone, right?’”) – pgs. 29-37

Introduces Blue’s house

Introduces Blue’s relationship with her mother Maura

Neeve scries and learns that something is strange about Henrietta

Again, we wonder how Blue and Gansey will meet. And also, is it possible to save Gansey from his fate?

Chapter 4: Adam (“Adam Parrish had been Gansey’s friend for eighteen months, and he knew that certain things came along with that friendship.”/”’Excelsior’, said Gansey, and shut the door behind them.”) – pg. 38-51

Introduces Monmouth Manufacturing

Delves further into Gansey’s quest (will Gansey find what he’s looking for?)

Adam is suspicious that someone is spying on their search

Develops tension between Ronan and Declan

Chapter 5: Whelk (“Barrington Whelk was feeling less than sprightly as he slouched down the hall of Whitman House, the Aglionby admin building.”/”It was possible that Czerny’s death wasn’t for nothing after all.”) – pg. 52-56

Adam was suspicious in the previous chapter and now here’s Whelk, being suspicious

What is this guy’s deal?

Whelk hears Gansey is researching ley lines and suddenly gets very interested

Who is Czerny and how did he die?

Chapter 6: Blue (“Blue wouldn’t really describe herself as a waitress.”/”Neeve had to be wrong. She’d never fall in love with one of them.”) – pg. 57-64

Blue goes to work at Nino’s, the same place Gansey and his crew are going

Blue’s mother calls: Gansey has scheduled a reading

THEY MEET! This is great. They meet and they both dislike each other. They immediately conflict and neither realizes the other is the person they’re looking for.

The dramatic irony is fantastic

Adam is interested in Blue and Blue is a little bit interested in him

How does Blue end up liking Gansey, who she currently hates?

Truly, a mystery

WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THE TWO MEET AGAIN AT THE PSYCHIC READING???

I could do this for the whole book, but you get the picture. There’s always something the reader is left wondering, even if it’s something small, or a future interaction they’re looking forwards to.

A note: this is particularly effective when it’s tied to personal agency. You want to see what your characters will do, and this means more if you have dynamic characters who make choices.

 Point #2: Atmosphere and memorable locations

Another big strength of this book is the personality that it imbues its settings with. Take three examples: 300 Fox Way, Monmouth Manufacturing and Cabeswater.

 300 Fox Way – the chaotic, full-to-the-brim house where Blue lives with her mom and her aunt and her mom’s two best friends Persephone and Calla and a multitude of other psychic women, all showcased through background details. I love this house and its aesthetic.

              Quote: “Mornings at 300 Fox Way were fearful, jumbled things. Elbows in sides and lines for the bathroom and people snapping over tea bags placed into cups that already had tea bags in them. There was school for Blue and work for some of the more productive (or less intuitive) aunts. Toast got burned, cereal went soggy the refrigerator door hung open and expectant for minutes at a time. Keys jingled as car pools were hastily decided.” – pg 29

 Monmouth Manufacturing – the abandoned factory that Gansey, Ronan and Noah have made their home. They live on the upper floor and the description of the space really doubles as a character portrait for Gansey. Use settings to reveal and further describe your characters!

              Quote: “The high ceiling soared above them, exposed iron beams holding up the roof. Gansey’s invented apartment was a dreamer’s laboratory. The entire second floor, thousands of square feet, spread out before them. Two of the walls were made up of old windows—dozens of tiny, warped panes, except for a few clear ones Gansey had replaced—and the other two walls were covered with maps: the mountains of Virginia, of Wales, of Europe. Marker lines arced across each of them. Across the floor, a telescope peered at the Western sky; at its feet lay piles of arcane electronics meant to measure magnetic activity.

              And everywhere, everywhere, there were books. Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed. Some of the books weren’t in English. Some of the books were dictionaries for the languages that some of the other books were in. Some of the books were actually Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editions.” – pg 41

 Cabeswater — a magical, sentient forest. I love this forest so much. I love the overall portrayal of magic in this series and this forest is my favourite example of that. The trees speak Latin, time is fluid and sometimes the very air manifests your thoughts, so keep a watch on them.

              Quote: “The stream trickled sluggishly out of the woods from between two diamond-barked dogwoods. With Gansey in the lead, they all followed the water into the trees. Immediately, the temperature dropped several degrees. Blue hadn’t realized how much insect noise there was in the field until it was replaced by occasional birdsong under the trees. This was a beautiful, old wood, all massive oak and ash trees finding footing among great slabs of cracked stone. Ferns sprang from rocks and verdant moss grew up the sides of the tree trunks. The air itself was scented with green and growing and water. The light was golden through the leaves. Everything was alive, alive.” – pg 219

 What can I take away from this? Using small, specific details to make a setting unique and memorable can add atmosphere to your novel, showcase characters and make a reader fall in love with a particular place.

 Point #3: Evolving arcs

This story contains a lot of interwoven plot threads. This can be hard to balance (I know from personal experience) but I think this novel pulls it off. It’s very, very good at doing many things at once. The important thing to think about is a beginning, middle and end for different story arcs that you introduce. Here’s one example (of many) from this book.

 Example 1: Noah

Oh Noah. Noah is a brilliant example of an arc in this book and also one of my favourite demonstrations of the fact that sometimes you can hide things right in the open.

First mention (pg. 26). Noah goes out for pizza with the crew, but there is no mention of him going to school or otherwise having a life. This theme will continue: while Gansey, Adam, Ronan and Blue have conflict and fleshed-out internal worlds, Noah is a static character. The first time I read this book, I was like Gansey. I didn’t notice how much Noah was missing until it was explicitly called out.

First line of dialogue: “I’ve been dead for seven years,” Noah said. “That’s as warm as they get.” (pg. 47) (IT’S RIGHT THERE, but yet I didn’t pick up on it. Clever, clever.)

Noah’s room is also described as ‘meticulous’. As in, practically unused.

“Noah, we won’t make you eat,” says Gansey. “Need some more alone time?” says Ronan. More little hints.

The character descriptions are honestly so good, worth a study all in themselves.

Noah doesn’t come to the psychic’s reading or the helicopter trip, which the other boys do

Somehow, he has a canny knack for knowing things and sharing secrets.

“Don’t throw it away.” (pg. 165) (to Gansey)

Gansey calls for Noah but he’s not there (pg. 233)

“Blue permitted Noah to pet the crazy tufts of her hair” (pg. 238). Not particularly arc related but SUPER CUTE.

The gang visits Cabeswater again and finds Noah’s old abandoned car, a red Mustang (not that they realize it yet). In the trunk is a dowsing rod, a sign someone else is looking for ley lines. Noah throws up (from the trauma of his murder).

Blue and Gansey visit the old church and find a body. “The face on the driver’s license was Noah’s.” (pg. 274)

THE BIG SCENE IN WHICH NOAH IS REVEALED AS A GHOST (what a brilliant scene)

“Adam,” he demanded, “what is Noah’s last name?”

“Tell me,” Gansey said, “which classes you share with Noah.”

“When does he eat? Have you ever seen him eat?”

“Does he pay rent? When did he move in? Have you ever questioned it?”

These are all questions Gansey asks his friends, but are also questions we must ask ourselves. We have been fooled in the same way as they have.

“I told you,” Noah said. “I told everyone.” (pg. 278)

“The question is: Who killed you?” (pg. 279)

Noah acts like a real ghost (disappears, reappears, knocks objects off desks)

“Maybe moving it off the ley line had stolen his energy.” (pg. 298) (in regards to Noah’s body)

Noah appears, using Blue’s energy. “I want you to know,” Noah said, “I was…more…when I was alive.” (pg. 305)

“You were the sacrifice, weren’t you Noah? Someone killed you for this.” (pg. 307). It turns out Noah, the friend they didn’t realize was dead, was killed in a ritual similar to the one that is attempted at the end of the novel by their Latin teacher, and is the reason Gansey is alive.

Remember: “Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.” (pg. 271).

It’s all very circular and interwoven and very good plotting.

Noah said, “But you already know.” (pg. 309)  (In regards to who killed him) JUMPCUTS to a scene with Whelk

“I’m going to fix Noah. Somehow.” (pg. 335) (says Gansey)

She allowed him to pet her hair with his icy fingers. “Not so spiky as usual,” he said sadly. (pg. 353)

“Don’t throw it away,” Noah whispered. (pg. 371) To Adam, this time.

Noah warns Gansey that Adam is gone (he is now 100% a spooky ghost boy)

THE MURDERED/REMEMBERED SCENE (breaks my heart). They’re all in Cabeswater again for the climax of the novel and Noah, who doesn’t exist in bodily form, traces words into the dust on his old car

Noah’s funeral: “Please say something to them.” / “Mrs. Czerny, he’s sorry for drinking your birthday schnapps.” (pg. 406-407) (ouch, my heart)

They dig up his bones and rebury them on the ley line

“Can we go home? This place is so creepy.” … ”Noah!” Gansey cried gladly. Blue hurled his arms around his neck. He looked alarmed, and then pleased, and then he pet the tufts of her hair. (pg 408)

 Broadly, the arc looks like this (look how actions lead to consequences which lead to further actions):

The boys have a friend named Noah, who is sometimes there and sometimes not

LOTS OF FORESHADOWING

They find Noah’s dead body

They confront Noah and find out he’s a ghost

The police move his bones so he starts acting like a real ghost

They figure out he was used in an attempted ritual and also that their Latin teacher killed him

The dig up his bones and rebury them on the ley line

Noah comes back

Given what happens later in this series, it’s very important to me that we remember Noah.

 In conclusion

What this book does well:

Keeping readers interested by embedding small mysteries

Atmosphere and memorable locations

Evolving arcs

These are just a few things I noticed on my read-through of The Raven Boys. Stay tuned for further Word Wanderings posts and feel free to give suggestions for books you’d like me to analyze!

Personal Challenge: Pick a book you’re currently reading or an old favorite and try to figure out what keeps you reading, whether it’s little mysteries, character dilemmas or rising tension.

[movienotesbyzawmer]

October 19, 2020: Friday the 13th

This is happening. I am going to watch the first eight Friday the 13th movies over the next eight evenings.

Am I an idiot. Will I even get through them all. Why.

The earlier movies in the series came out at a time when I was a pre-teen movie fan who really wanted to get past the too-scary barrier and just enjoy horror movies. I think rewatching the first couple on cable back in the early 80s helped me get used to horror movies. But it's not like I ever was a huge fan of, just, straight slasher movies. I'd appreciate the effects and the gore, but I never thought they were excellent movies.

So here we are at the first one, still the most famous one. I remember it well enough that I don't think anything will be scary or surprising, but it's been so long that I suspect it will look very, very dated. Let's pop this sukka in…

Right away we get to hear the familiar "riff" or whatever you want to call this bit in the score that goes CH CH CH CH CH HA HA HA HA HA HA. Good job coming up with that.

So they tell us that it's Camp Crystal Lake in 1958, and we cut between teenage camp leader people doing a singalong and a POV stalkercam creeping around. It really doesn't look like 1958 in any way. But that turns into a POV murdering of two boinking teenagers; definitely owes a debt to Halloween, which came out two years earlier. But that ends with the title of the movie shooting out toward us all and shattering some glass we didn't know was there! Oh mercy what a surprise how will I ever get any sleep.

Ha! A crazy old man jumps in front of the nice girl and be-s all scary at her with the portentous "death curse" warning. Kinda hard to believe this movie came out in the same decade as Blue Velvet, is my comment on its dramatic maturity.

0:12:45 - Kevin Bacon's first appearance! Do people remember that this is one of his earliest roles? Still a couple years after his small role in Animal House though, so he was actually known.

So now we're at the camp and we see the girl who makes it to the end. She's talking to the dude with the mustache who is, what, the owner of the camp? There's a creepy tension maybe because they will want us to suspect he's a bad guy later. Or maybe because awkward exchanges are a consequence of movie budgets being small. But there's also dumb plot exposition about how, okay, fine, she'll stay on the job until Friday but then she has to move to California to pursue her real interests. You know, art drawings!

Ooh, now the first girl, Little Miss Backpack, catches a second ride, but we don't see the driver, it's all POV! She's in trouble, and we don't know who it is! Is it Moustachio? She's on the run through the woods! Limping, oh no! And… SLASH! That's kind of interesting because it was looking like she might be the protagonist. But in the brilliant clarity of this very nice, newly-restored Blu-ray presentation, we see her cruelly dispatched by way of some pretty mediocre gore makeup. Good enough for what must have been a pretty low budget I guess. But hard to believe this came out just one year before An American Werewolf in London.

0:26:20 - "What Do I Do", says the snake-chasing counselor guy. It's a funny delivery! And I actually like some of the angles in this scene.

Now there's this motorcycle cop character who shows up to Be A Cop at them. The actor seems like he's not very experienced, but like he was cast because he has a weird way of talking that was amusing during the casting sessions.

Bah ha ha ha, the weird dude from town is lurking in the pantry! He emerges shockingly to deliver another warning! The only reason that happens is to make us wonder if he is the stalker. "You're doomed! You're all doomed!" Way to embrace that dialogue, buddy.

It's kind of like the director didn't give these counselor actors individual character notes; he just told them all "you are spunky young camp counselors, that's it, that's the direction".

So Kevin Bacon and his girlfriend have repaired to a little cabin so they can Do It, and something that's occurring to me is that, unlike what we're more used to seeing in slasher movies, they aren't focusing on the sexual attractiveness of the females. The guys and the gals are all just kind of good-lookin-enough young adults who are all into each other. I'm going to keep an eye on how this progresses as I get deeper into the series, if I even last the whole eight movies.

Whoa a dude is dead in the bunk above where they're Doing It! We didn't see that guy get killed even, right? He looks enough like another one of the guys that I might not have noticed his character was absent.

The KB death scene I totally remember, and at first it looks quite good and is a good shock! But because this restoration is so clean, you really notice the color difference between where it's KB's head and a fake body getting speared. Other than that, though, that is pretty exquisite horror movie violence, that death.

KB's girlfriend is looking like she's about to get murdered, and while she is in skimpy underwear, I still don't think it's like that to titillate us as much as to make her seem vulnerable. Am I being naïve? Maybe. The rest of the gang is playing strip poker in their quarters, but they're such regular people and not being filmed in any kind of steamy way.

The pace really slowed down after those couple of bloody murders, but audiences at the time were probably pretty shocked by how bloody they were. Both of those deaths were very much in close-up. At this point in the movie, though, there's a more careful suspense. We go back to Moustachio, chatting in a diner, then having car trouble. It's plodding in a way that seems actually pretty smart. I feel suspense building.

0:56:58 - I don’t remember this scene at all… one of the girls is all by herself and she clearly hears someone calling for help. It's not done in a "maybe it's the supernatural echo of the drowning boy's screams" way. It's just a lure. The girl goes outside, someone turns floodlights on… and we cut away just as she's ostensibly about to get all killed up.

So now it's just the short-haired girl and the dark haired guy that didn't die yet. Are they the last ones left? Other than Moustachio? That happened quick!

1:02:10 - First mention of it being Friday the 13th. It's really not significant to the story or to the whole series. They were clearly just stoked that they claimed "Friday the 13th" as a property.

Moustachio just got killed; no violence; it was just so we could see that he recognized the killer. Plus also now we know for sure he's not the killer, even though we figured that because he was off at the diner while killings were happening. Our minds are really spinning trying to solve this diabolical mystery!

I do like how they are drawing out the suspense at this point. Lots of little moments where maybe a lurker is about to get them.

How come people used to make coffee in the exact same was as they make hot cocoa? Just get a mug and put some coffee crystals in there and some sugar, then pour boiling water in there and serve?

Boom! After all that meticulous slow action, dude is dead on the door! Up until this point, the main girl had no idea that actual deaths were going on, and suddenly she's the only one left alive! It is exciting to watch her figure out what she'll do.

What she does first is go all in on blocking one door. It's kind of unintentionally funny, and also maybe that's what any of us would come up with.

In case she wasn't sure if the other gals were still around, a cadaver of one of them is heaved in front of her through a window! Just like that she undoes all her door work because she sees a jeep pull up. Are we supposed to recognize it as Bad Jeep from earlier? I think we are. It's a nice lady, but we are suspicious because Bad Jeep. But why would she throw a girl through a window and then just a few minutes later arrive in a Jeep?

The Jason's Mom actress is awesome, super intense. Only problem is that it's a little hard to believe that she's twenty years on from being a mother of a kid who was at a camp.

The main girl is on the run and found a rifle, and is just like OMG where is ammo, and she looks as desperate as I'd be. This is fine, you guys. Fine work. Fine, fine work.

1:26:40 - We're near the end. The chase devolved into an I-found-you-hiding-in-the-pantry fight. Jason's Mom got laid out on the floor and there was a little blood, so the main girl was like, time to just kneel by a canoe with my back to all of everything. But Mom is there and the fight ends with her being beheaded, because somehow there was a machete there that only the main girl knew about! The machete from the snake incident earlier that was in a totally different place, I guess. So she rewards herself with a midnight canoe ride by herself on the lake, which honestly should have been pretty free of murderers, not that dumb a move.

What is dumb is this ending. She wakes up in the hospital, vocally convinced that The Boy Jason pulled her under, even though she didn't see what happened because he grabbed her from behind. But there were cops there looking right at her at that time, they should have seen. Also, like, so do you slip into a coma when you fall overboard or something? Last time I got fully submerged in water I didn't wake up in the hospital with lots of questions.

So that's that! I watched Friday the 13th and told you what I was thinking as I watched it. It is not without virtues and the Blu-ray transfer looks very nice, but it is a slasher movie whose intended audience is no more nuanced than the undefined blob of camp counselor characters that make up most of the movie.

(next: Friday the 13th Part 2)

[osleyakomwonkru]

What do you think of Grounder society? I feel like they are very violent oriented and to be frank I’ve never particularly cared about them as a group. Also, what do you think of Octavia integrating herself into their society? Do you agree with it? I know you’re an Octavia fan. I hope you don’t take this as hate towards her. I’d just like a different perspective.

I guess you could say I have a hard time understanding where Grounder society came from. When the 100 land, it has only been 97 years since the nuclear apocalypse. For a society to have gone from a modern tech-oriented society back to knives and spears, something drastic had to have been done to it to make it happen.

Yes, make it happen - because it had to have been deliberate. There’s no way a society just evolves like that in less than a hundred years. Someone constructed a society from blank slates, told them a mythology, and then the society went with it because that’s all they knew. Not unlike Sanctum. (These are all themes I’ll be exploring in my S7 fic, because we are not done with that world yet.)

So with that in mind, yes, they were violent. That was all part of the mythos that they became unwilling participants of, and later perpetrators of, as they continued the cycle. But who started that cycle? That would be interesting to know. We don’t really have “elder” Grounder characters (not named ones, anyway) who can tells us about the earliest generations and I think that’s deliberate. The closest we’ve got is Indra, and she’s mid-century at best. She should have known people who knew the end of the world, at least in her childhood, but the question is - are the stories she grew up with from them entirely true and accurate?

Octavia integrated into their society because they were the society available that wasn’t the one she ostensibly belonged to, the one where people always saw her as “Bellamy’s little sister” or “the girl under the floor” when she wanted to find her own way in the world. They were people who didn’t see her as all those things, but as her own person on her own skills and merits. If they were a society of peace-loving hippies who grew fruits and vegetables and sang songs around campfires, I’m sure she still would have gone for them over Skaikru, solely for the reason that they weren’t Skaikru.

Now, becoming a part of the Grounders was never easy, it was something she always had to fight for, and I think that was a part of what made it so compelling for her. I couldn’t disagree more with the antis who say that Octavia’s the embodiment of a “white saviour”. That’s an accurate description of Clarke - someone who walks in and tells a society how to live because “they know better”. Octavia earned the Grounders’ respect according to their system and traditions, which is why in 4x10 she was able to accomplish what Clarke had tried in the previous episode but failed at - uniting them and sharing the bunker. Octavia did it by playing by their rules, by winning the game they respected, and by not claiming something that she wasn’t entitled to (despite Indra trying to force Commander imagery on her, which she wisely rejected when she knew she’d have to be a different kind of leader).

As soon as Octavia rejects Commander imagery and builds her own way forward for leading, Gaia becomes her biggest cheerleader. I always wish they’d explored the relationship between Octavia and Gaia a lot more, because we know they spent a lot of time together in the bunker. The warrior and the mystic, brought together initially because of their shared love for Indra, but then moving beyond that initial connection too.

So TL;DR version: Grounder society was deliberately set up the way it is. Octavia joined them because they weren’t the society of her birth, and she wanted people to see her on her own merits rather than the labels they’d already given her.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: TGWTG Anniversary Crossovers

I think enough time has passed where I can talk about these films without looking like I’m jumping on a trend.

Back when it was, you know, an actual thing, Channel Awesome would every so often gather together and make a big-as anniversary film to celebrate the site. The movies would always be these massive doorstoppers where everyone would be running around in Halloween costumes of whatever character they liked the most that fit the theme and fighting some random villain. None of this ever really tied in to their work, and none of this even remotely had anything to do with reviews. It was all just hanging around with friends and having dumb fun, and when I was younger I kind of just accepted that.

But certain revelations have made that dubious. No one was having fun making these. Everyone was miserable, except perhaps Doug Walker, who was just utterly oblivious to the plight of his coworkers. There was seedy stuff going on, people were pretty much being tortured and abused, and it’s a wonder anyone was ever able to feign enjoyment in any of their scenes. And looking back on these movies I used to remember fondly, I have to say… they kind of really, legitimately suck ass. These three films – Kickassia, Suburban Knights, and To Boldly Flee – are just legitimately painful and depressing to sit through, for reasons both meta and writing-wise.

The biggest problem with all of them is their humor, which is a pretty big problem when you’re starring a bunch of comedians, some of whom can be legitimately funny. The worst bits tend to revolve around the mind-boggling number of references they cram into each script; To Boldly Flee and Suburban Knights are much worse in this regard, as they have all of the actors literally dressed up as their favorite characters, but there are two examples of this sort of thing that shine as the worst examples of all. The first is Lindsay Ellis doing a Sarah Palin impersonation in Kickassia; Palin was such a flash-in-the-pan politician that it instantly dates the whole movie, and I don’t know if it was just bad writing, lack of direction, or what, but Ellis just fails to make this joke work at all. Like I know I can’t expect this to be as funny as Iron Sky’s Palin riffing, but still, it’s just sad.

The absolute worst, however, is JO in To Boldly Flee as Ed from Cowboy Bepob… at least that’s who I think he’s supposed to be playing. I know nothing about Cowboy Bebop and have outright refused to ever watch it because if Ed is anything like how JO played her, I’m going to fucking hate the whole show, Steve Blum and Melissa Fahn be damned. JO’s portrayal is whiny, hyper, annoying, manic, obnoxious… there’s not a single positive thing that can be said. His performance of the character is pretty much the poster child for just how absolutely awful these movies could get.

There’s also a lot of jokes where the punchline is basically just “this guy’s body/genitalia is funny, teehee.” Suburban Knights and To Boldly Flee have some truly awful examples of this, such as the numerous upskirts Doug Walker gets as Link and the infamous Spoony Dune scene. But even that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it comes from the frequent states of near-nudity that Justin “JewWario” Carmichael would find himself in throughout these films. To Boldly Flee has him channeling George Takei and fencing without his shirt on, which is bad enough, but Suburban Knights has perhaps the worst scene of all, in any of these films, though only with hindsight.

For those of you not familiar, JewWario was outed as a creepy sexual predator during the whole #ChangeTheChannel fiasco. The guy groomed young women and did god knows what else during his time on the site, with none of his coworkers any the wiser and the management doing their best to cover it up; in fact, everyone only found out because the suits who owned CA made a huge blunder during their rebuttal of the claims of its former employees. With all of that context, please try and rewatch Suburban Knights’ climax in which JewWario helps save the day by revealing his penis to everyone. This right here is Keyser Soze levels of “uncomfortable in hindsight.”

The stories aren’t much better, and often fall into the same sort of issues that The Angry Video Game Nerd movie fell into, in that nothing in these films really showcases why we love the reviewers; Kickassia infamously has the Dr. Insano twist, as one example of how they botched this. All of these movies just feel too epic in scope and don’t really try to incorporate anything that we love about these reviewers into the films. Only To Boldly Flee really does anything right in that regard, as it throws back to everything from oneshot Nostalgia Critic villains to the Todd-Lindsay-Lupa love triangle to Phelous dying… the real problem is you have to actually sit through To Boldly Flee to see that. The movies go for these epic plots where the reviewers do cool shit like take over micronations (Kickassia), quest for powerful artifacts (Suburban Knights), or deal with extremely heavy-handed and hamfisted allegories for internet privacy bills (To Boldly Flee). You’d think maybe throwing a bunch of comedians into an epic plot like any of these could lead to some funny jokes, or maybe some sort of Monty Python-esque parody, but no, instead these comedians decide to revel in melodrama and try to genuinely act, with EXTREMELY mixed results. It doesn’t help that some of these people just aren’t even remotely funny when they’re trying to be.

Here’s the thing with The Angry Video Game Nerd’s movie, in comparison to these, though: it may have had this epic, ridiculous, goofy plot involving Area 51, kaiju, aliens, and crappy Atari games buried in a landfill, but the entire plot was building up to, and ultimately delivered on, the promise of the long-awaited review of the E.T. game. For all the film’s flaws, Rolfe knew what we loved about the Nerd, he knew what the fans wanted, and by god did he give it to them in the silliest, most epic way possible. Even if I didn’t love the film, the fact Rolfe knew why we’d want to see a feature-length Nerd film in the first place speaks volumes about how he understands that he can do what will make him happy artistically and still show the fans what they want to see.

These movies from the Channel Awesome crew don’t seem to get that at all. They don’t build up to a review. They don’t build up to them discovering the worst movie or song or whatever they review. They’re all very straightforward genre comedies where they can make a bunch of shallow, Seltzer & Friedberg-esque “Look at this thing that exists! That’s a joke right?” references. Aside from seeing your favorite reviewers in a goofy plot like this, where is there any bit of the reason you watch these people in the first place? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were playing characters instead of them playing themselves, in their internet reviewer personas; at least then you wouldn’t be watching Brad Jones stumbling around in a Darth Vader helmet and think to yourself miserably “God I wish that poor guy was watching another E.T. porno.”

So there are some positives in these films, shockingly enough. Brad Jones is consistently good across the entire ‘trilogy,’ especially in Kickassia where he has the good sense to walk out on all the bullshit for a while. Maybe it’s just because these films got me interested in him, but I definitely think he does a good job. The same can be said for a lot of the actors, such as the bad guy in Suburban Knights and Ma-Ti’s actor; they manage to deliver at least solid performances in spite of the films. And then there are the James Rolfe cameos, and it’s just always good to see Rolfe in general.

To Boldly Flee, despite its reputation, actually has a lot of genuinely good bits. For instance, the distraction song is actually a really solid musical number. Linkara, Doug, and Spoony actually play really well off of each other, so when they have their three idiot villains team up they at least get some decently good moments. And other reviewers I generally like such as Phelous or Todd do a solid job, and frankly in To Boldly Flee Doug Walker does show some impressive dramatic acting… but it’s in service of a character who has previously been portrayed as a petulant, whiny, self-serving, egotistical manchild, so it almost feels like he’s playing a totally different character. Still, credit where credit is due.

None of these films succeed at what they want to. Ostensibly, they are supposed to be celebrating the site and the friendship of the reviewers, but as I mentioned, there’s no reviewing, there’s nothing that indicates what the site is about, and they all just come off as ego-stroking self-congratulatory wanking. None of these films were worth the pain and suffering that the cast and crew had to go through to produce these, and watching them at all these days is especially hard knowing that a lot of these people are smiling and joking through pain, stress, and abuse. It’s sick.

Kickassia may be the most competent, but that isn’t saying much at all. Aside from the whole Palin bit, this one has a simple, straightforward plot and is relatively down-to-earth, and it almost feels like it really was just a bunch of friends making a shitty low budget action movie in the desert… something sadly undermined by reality. Suburban Knights is probably one of the most uncomfortable to sit through due to jokes like Film Brain saying he’d eat Kinley Mochrie’s “pea-ness” (this was before she came out mind you) and the numerous jokes surrounding JewWario’s junk, but it almost works, like it nearly comes close to being a dumb epic fantasy comedy, but it just frequently shoots itself in the foot with the bad writing and acting and its overreliance on references.

To Boldly Flee is, to put it absolutely simple, a hot mess. This film is an utter trainwreck from start to finish. It is the Battlefield Earth of internet review movies, a bloated, messy, overly long dumpster fire with some of the most nightmarish behind-the-scenes stories and horrendous financial mismanagement you could ever imagine. But where Battlefield Earth is at least unintentionally funny, this film… is not. This film just makes you feel bad for everyone involved, it makes your heart ache for all the poor reviewers who had to suffer under the miserable conditions, it makes you question Doug Walker’s sanity in thinking he could turn his screeching manchild of a reviewer into some tragic martyr in a total 180 from how he had always been portrayed prior. None of these three films are worth sitting through, but I think To Boldly Flee is, with hindsight, the one least worth sitting through, which is a truly incredible accomplishment.

It’s kind of tragic. I still like a lot of the reviewers who took part in these – Todd, Linkara, Phelous, Brad Jones, and even Doug to some extent (though that’s an unpopular opinion these days) – but I just can’t muster up any forgiveness for these films anymore. And I don’t blame any of the people in it (except maybe Doug); most of them were there out of obligation or friendship or what have you. These films are just a monument to hubris, ignorance, broken friendships, horrible management, and wanton cruelty to those who called you friends.

See that picture up there at the top? With all of them gathered together like friends? God, how I wish that were the reality. How I wish that picture accurately reflected life, that they were all pals having a good time and that these films were something they were proud of. But behind that picture are stories all of them could tell of hurt, betrayal, resentment, anger, contempt, and some very unspeakable things in Carmichael’s case. I wish the sort of world a surface level glance at that picture shows you existed, where the crew of TGWTG all had a blast making these shitty movies together, because at least in that case I could find a sort of ironic enjoyment in them. But reality has gone out of its way to undermine any of that. 

[traincat]

It is true that Flash Thompson was not originally a bully and that later writer retconned him to be one to make Peter more relatable?

This is an interesting thing to explore and I don’t think it’s quite as clear cut as that, because it’s not like a retcon where the switch got flipped and suddenly This Is How Canon Is. It’s more of a messy canon landslide, filled with creator infighting. (In a move that I’m sure will surprise no one, just like people in fandom disagree with each other’s headcanons, different writers on longrunning multi-creator series disagree with each other’s headcanons. It’s just that they get to then make those headcanons canon.) But to take it back to the very beginning with Stan Lee and Steve Ditko’s run – no, I don’t believe Flash Thompson was originally intended to be a bully in high school, at least not in the same way he later became characterized during that time and not in the way that the word “bully” brings to mind in modern context. I think it’s more accurate to say that the original depiction of Flash in the Lee/Ditko run is as the popular student to Peter’s wallflower. Compared to Peter, Flash cares less about intellectual pursuits and schoolwork and comes across more as the Typical American Teenager of the time, complete with curly flaxen hair and sweaters with his initial on the front. Peter and Flash are certainly not friends in high school and Flash is verbally rude to Peter, but he’s certainly not the only one, and, especially after the spider-bite, Peter gives as good as he takes in that department and more. I’d describe the relationship in the Lee/Ditko run as “mutually antagonistic”, and that the nature of that antagonism is largely verbal. Out of the couple of times they have come to blows in the Lee/Ditko run, there’s one boxing match in Amazing Spider-Man #8 to “settle their feud”:

I don’t think this was approved conflict resolution between students even in the 60s, but whatever – anyway, long story short, after an attempt to figure out how to pull his punches enough so he doesn’t seriously injure Flash, Peter… still wipes the floor with him. 

Okay.

Then there’s a fight in Amazing Spider-Man #26, which only gets broke up because Liz Allan physically gets between them:

So in both of these original cases, it’s hard not label Peter as, if not the aggressor, then at the least complicit in these physical fights solely within the confines of the original Lee/Ditko run. I also think it’s notable in the latter scene that, though the principal blames Peter – and look at that flying tackle leap – Flash takes the rap for this fight so Peter won’t get in trouble.

Here’s the thing about Spider-Man as a series: there’s a big joke at the forefront of the series at its beginning, and the joke is that Peter’s dear old aunt might think he’s such a fragile boy, and his classmates might think he’s just another scrawny nerd, but he knows – and you and I, the readers, know – that that’s not true at all and that physically Peter’s much stronger than all of them and he knows – and again, we the readers know – that he could flatten anyone at school who looks at him wrong, and that it’s his own sense of responsibility and morals that keeps him from doing just that. It’s a very specific kind of joke, it’s an in-joke. We know it, Peter knows, nobody else knows it, and that’s why it’s funny. And that joke deepens when they introduce the element of Flash Thompson being Spider-Man’s biggest fan. 

(Amazing Spider-Man #17) So now the joke’s not only that Flash, as Peter’s classmate, might think he’s kind of a wimp, it’s that while he thinks Peter’s a wimp he simultaneously worships the ground Spider-Man walks on. I’ve mentioned before that in my opinion it’s a shallow take to boil Spider-Man’s humor as a series down to Peter’s quipping in fights; the narrative itself is clever, and Flash squabbling with Peter while simultaneously thinking Spider-Man’s just the greatest ever is part of that. To complicate things further, part of the reason Flash dislikes Peter at this point in canon is because he feels his girlfriend Liz Allan is gunning to get with Peter (and she is). Flash and Liz have an odd relationship; they’re ostensibly together through high school, but essentially they’re both obsessed with the same guy in different outfits. (This isn’t actually canon, or at least, it isn’t yet, but for the sake of the conversation: I do strongly believe that Flash, as he’s been written in 616 over the years, is gay. @bipeteparker has an excellent breakdown of the subtext here. And so while I do think it’s very easy to paint Flash’s feelings for Spider-Man as more than platonic, I also think his feelings for Peter eventually get, yeah, pretty romantic. Identity porn in practice!)

Peter and Flash continue this kind of mutual antagonism into the early days of college, where they both end up in Gwen Stacy’s social circle:

(Amazing Spider-Man #37) I do think the Ditko/Lee run is very important, but there’s a reason I don’t usually recommend people start with it, and it’s because if you’re used to Peter Parker being a certain way, Peter in the original run is uhhh. Let’s call him prickly, to say the least. For all of Flash’s posturing here in this scene, if you look at what’s actually on the page, he does sort of come off a little better than Peter – from his perspective, he’s trying to defend Gwen, his friend, from a guy he knows has a history of some pretty weird behavior. I don’t doubt that the original point of the scene was for the reader to come down more on Peter’s side of things (note Gwen’s internal monologue), but from a modern perspective, well – Peter’s being a pretty big jerk in it. (Peter mellows out a lot in college, and also when John Romita Sr hits the scene and replaces Ditko on art.)

So one of the things that kept Peter and Flash from being friends sooner – and within the confines of the Lee/Ditko run, kept Peter from having friends at all sooner – is that Peter’s responsibilities towards Spider-Man and his aunt did make him initially come off as very standoffish during high school and at the beginning of college, which was the result of him being, well, just superhumanly busy and having a lot on his mind, but which his classmates (who don’t have the reader’s privilege of knowing just what the hell is up with Peter Parker) did read as him thinking he was too good for them:

(Amazing Spider-Man #34)

Flash remarks on this same behavior in the future, after he and Peter have become friends:

“We all had responsibilities, Pete. But we made time for each other. You made it clear that you always had something more important to do than be with us. How do you think we felt?” (Web of Spider-Man #11 – with a classic Flash Thompson fashion look.) This is one of the downsides of Spider-Man; because of his secret identity, even the Peter people loves most in his life (and he grows to love Flash a very great deal) don’t really know every side of him. And it’s very easy for the reader to sympathize with Peter first and foremost because we know he missed that movie/dance/dinner/whatever because there was a supervillain on the loose, or someone was trapped in a burning building, but when he can’t/won’t share that information with the people in his life with whom he keeps breaking plans, I think it’s also reasonable to sympathize with them feeling like they’re just not important to him, so I like Web of Spider-Man #11′s spin on the situation. (Flash also comes down on Peter’s treatment of Liz Allan in high school, given her obvious crush on him, in the issue.)

To go back briefly to the idea of Peter and Flash having a mutual antagonism in high school, rather than a bully-victim dynamic, while Flash looked down on Peter for not being as athletic or popular with girls as him, Peter teased Flash about his intelligence:

(”Back before we became friends, Parker used to tease me for not being as bright as he is. I wonder if he knew how much that hurt?” – Spectacular Spider-Man #148.) So there’s an interesting twist in the dynamic there, because we the readers know that Flash teasing Peter about not being as athletic as him is funny because, after the spider-bite, Peter’s far stronger and faster than Flash is. Peter teasing Flash about not being as smart as him, on the other hand, isn’t funny at all, because Peter really is that much smarter than Flash. And I’m not trying to make Peter out to be the bully in the situation, but I do think Spider-Man comics and relationship dynamics are at their best when not everything is as simple as it seems and when there are different sides to the story, and that I do really like this dynamic of Peter and Flash of two kids who just drastically didn’t understand each other, and who both had pretty valid reasons not to like each other in high school, but who ended up clicking really well in later life as they both matured. It’s also notable that Peter, while orphaned as a young child, had Ben and May who were very loving parents, whereas Flash’s father was violently abusive. In the issue that reveals Flash’s home life situation, a much younger Flash stares down in envy at Peter and Uncle Ben:

(Spectacular Spider-Man #-1)

(Venom (2011) #5)

Having established all of that, it is pretty much hard canon now that Flash was more of a garden variety bully in high school, with the idea popularized in Spider-Man fandom by like, every Peter Parker movie, and as comics moved forward with new writers who saw different parts of their own experiences in Peter’s high school isolation, or who wanted to move things into a more modern perspective. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing for Flash as a character, necessarily – I don’t think it’s in the original Lee/Ditko run’s text, but neither is Flash having a father who beats him, and while “bully is actually a victim of abuse himself” is maybe an overused trope, it comes up a lot for a reason, and so much of Spider-Man does boil down to what abuse does to people, and how they then abuse other people – or how they choose not to do that. (A huge part of Flash’s Venom run is on breaking the cycle of abuse.) I know I’ve talked a couple times about Flash being put down to make Peter look better by comparison, I don’t really mean the slide of Flash from popular boy who just, well, didn’t really like Peter into Peter’s bully so much as some later canon (particularly around the late ‘90s and into the ‘00s) that, well, didn’t seem to really know what to do with Flash.

For example, for a while in canon, Flash had a job as an athletics coach teaching kids, and he seemed to really like it and he was really good with kids! Then we hit a point in canon and it’s like, oh never mind, he considers this a dead-end job for a loser. In the mid-250s of Spectacular Spider-Man, Flash tries to get back together with Betty Brant, with the caveat that something unnamed and jerkish happened to end their relationship and that it was his fault -- but that doesn’t make sense, in part because after Ned’s death and Betty’s breakdown it’s never clear whether Flash and Betty’s relatoinship ever even regained a romantic footing, and besides we see Flash and Betty hanging out in the same company after that when Flash was seeing Felicia with no apparent hard feelings between them. And some of it’s just your regular comic book style character regression -- at one point, Flash gets kidnapped by Norman Osborn, waterboarded with whisky, framed for a car accident that leaves him in a coma and with brain damage, and then when he comes out of it he’s regressed back to his high school-ish personality and can’t remember being friends with Peter (this didn’t last but it was sure a thing). So there’s some stuff like that. And I do think a lot of it comes out of comic book writers who maybe identify with Peter a little too closely as a former high school nerd and it offers them a chance to put the jock down which -- I don’t know, I think it’s just a shallower take on a relationship that developed very naturally. 

So long story short, I don’t think the bully angle is something that was really in the Lee/Ditko run, and that Flash and Peter have more of a mutual antagonism that initially stems from Flash being the popular kid and Peter being a loner who feels isolated, yes, but who also had a tendency at that age to isolate himself, and that the bully aspect later emerged as a way to make Peter more of a relatable figure initially -- less prickly, more picked on, and Flash got pushed into that role because of it. It’s canon now, and I don’t really have a problem with it -- Flash and Peter managed to work it out amongst themselves, after all -- but I do think it’s interesting how it’s changed over the years, and I do personally think the initial dynamic from the Lee/Ditko run is more interesting. Ultimately I think the evolution of Flash in high school from a popular and a bit airheaded jock who loves Spider-Man to being characterized as a bully first and foremost is a shame because Flash and Peter have a really great friendship in later canon, and that’s something I’d like to see more of in Spider-Man adaptations. Instead the bully role just gets trot out over and over again.

[circuitlover]

Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Analysis

Is this a ridiculously naval-gazing post about Evangelion? Yes. Is it an accurate assessment of the franchise as a whole? I have no idea. I tackled this as an unknown initially, starting the series with zero contexts beyond the usual recommendation of “you should watch this.” Which is part of the reason why I’ve been a little hesitant about even broaching this subject to begin with. I’m so removed from the zeitgeist, both in terms of not being a regular anime viewer, as well as it being long past Evangelion’s relevance as a franchise, that it seems everybody already has their opinion on Evangelion all figured out. So at least indulge me, as I scramble around for something.

‘The End of Evangelion’ is a certainly a gratifying conclusion, as we finally get to see much of what was being concealed behind the veil (well, as much as one could reasonably hope for). It also reminds us of some long-standing questions. Why do the Evangelion possess such a bizarre tendency to be ill suited for battle? How do NERV’s continue to run unabated from governing bodies? What exactly is the mystery surrounding the origin of the ‘Geofront’? These were all broad strokes of why I felt unsatisfied by the original conclusion (the hastily arranged make good of the final few episodes of the series), and though I don’t expect every minor detail to be answered about such a multi-faceted world, I still feel these were questions pertinent enough to have been resolved in some fashion. Now I’m a little more aware of the troubled events leading up to that ending and it’s quite admirable that they managed to deliver something, despite the haphazard nature of those final two episodes.

 It’s clear that End of Evangelion intends to underline the original series from the start, dropping us back at the critical juncture where episode 24 had left us. Even if one could feasibly state that we reach the same point after the events of EOE, I’d argue that we inhabit a vastly different headspace by the time we reach it here. It’s not difficult to surmise what happens between the gaps left between the final two episodes, though everything is lent much more credence here, now that we are left to witness the macabre reality of what the entire series has been building towards. NERV headquarters is finally attacked by SEELE, and with this, we finally see the bloody climax. Now free to depict the attack in full detail, the opening half is certainly full of action and excess, though far from mindless, with only the most unflinching of viewers (or those divorced from its context) likely to derive any sort of baseless enjoyment from these scenes. The various lingering shots of deaths sit uncomfortably here, but nonetheless punctuate the finality of it all. If anyone could have accused the series of taking a wholly unexpected (and saccharine) turn towards it’s finale, then EOE is it’s biting rebuttal.  As cold as the NERV headquarters is, with almost everything bad that has occurred almost exclusively originating from within it’s walls, it’s still disconcerting to see such a familiar setting being callously destroyed in a matter of minutes, along with it’s inhabitants. The conflict has essentially existed as a faceless one; both the audience and Evangelion’s protagonists seldom knew what they’re truly been up against. It’s a war being played out by the pawns, and here we see the severity first-hand.

 As their headquarters are crumbling, so are the pilots. Shinji is in no fit state, evidenced by his own bemusement over his actions towards a comatose Asuka. It may be shocking, and his actions are far from admirable, but given the context, it’s hardly surprising. After all, his confidence had been built up; only to be meticulously broken the instant Kaworu reared his head. This compounded with his earlier apprehensions after Toji’s departure, his various disingenuous, failed, and otherwise doomed relationships leaves his mental state in tatters. I personally don’t like Shinji, but then again, it’s quite clear to see that you’re not really supposed to. Even without Hideki Anno’s spiteful intent of wanting to deconstruct the typical shonen hero propelling Shinji’s arc, it’s quite safe to assume that anyone who had any lingering empathy for Shinji will almost certainly have abandoned such notions at this point. The Shinji we were first introduced to, awkward, unlikeable, with an overriding sense of hate and self-loathing, has now given way to complete apathy. “I’m so fucked up” seems to ring more an acknowledgement, than it does a realization.

 Like Shinji, Asuka too has succumbed to her trauma, but on a much more literal scale, being broken in both mind and body. They are two characters that are seemingly analogous to one another. But again, first appearances can be deceiving, as by the point of Asuka’s introduction, we are already keenly aware of Shinji’s nature. He openly laments his position; Meanwhile, Asuka is brash and outspoken, embracing her identity as a designated hero, rather than cowering behind it. How they choose to define themselves is different, but the underlying reasons are gradually revealed to quite similar. Both driven by an inherent self-loathing, we witness the pair at varying levels of despondency, though rarely at the same time. In fact, for as consistent as emotional turmoil is through NGE, it is rarely overt, leaving most characters to wallow in their own abject misery. Almost everything operates on a certain level on duplicity, some of which, admittedly, isn’t apparent upon first viewing.

 Rei is ostensibly disconnected from the very beginning, though that makes the act of attempting to interpret the character, quite difficult. Very little is revealed about her, and most of the development is concerned with what she is, rather than what she does. Her role is pivotal to the overall narrative, and the themes being explored, as she is, by design, a doll that emotes. Which I guess is where her appeal lies. The mystery intrinsic to the character is never completely done away with, even at the very end. And the case could be made if the third incarnation of ‘Rei’ is even the same character that we’d become accustomed to, as her eventual rejection of instrumentality is a stark contrast to the cold pragmatist that bookended the TV series.

 The (quite literal) congratulatory nature of the series conclusion was always conspicuous in its inclusion. Evangelion had never been a work that had an interest in servicing its audience, at least in terms of a ‘happy’ ending. Which isn’t to say that wasn’t a possibility, but the tonal dissonance in which it was delivered never quite rang true. As an audience, we were conditioned to cautiously enjoy any brief respites afforded to our characters, as more often than not, it was simply a prelude to the turmoil that was soon to be heaped upon them. All of which (keeping with tradition), means the course correcting of EOE ups the stakes by an order of magnitude. The imminent attack is at the worst possible time, with each pilot being indisposed. The first big sequence, the assault on NERV, is a veritable massacre. Everyone’s fates are conclusively played out, whilst the Evangelion units become the focal point. 01 is promptly captured, whilst 02 (along with Asuka) is sunk to the bottom of the lake. This leaves Misato to attempt to galvanize an unstable Shinji. It’s kind of galling to see Shinji act so despondently in the face of her imminent death, though his selfishness probably obscures that fact until it’s too late. For me, Katsuragi is probably the most well meaning of the entire cast, but tragically, is someone woefully inept of providing the emotional support that others around her need. Her own weaknesses are clear to see, and although many of her problems are often emphasized for comic affect, she is still one of the few who straddles the line between her duties and profession life, perhaps the most convincingly. Like most other characters, she serves as juxtaposition to Shinji’s own conflict, and highlights how everyone is dealing with their own issues, just with varying levels of inadequacy. Her final actions echo her previous (failed) attempt at comforting Shinji, with her own loneliness giving way to fleeting intimacy.

Everything hits a crescendo once the Evangelion finally make their appearance, quite literally. Asuka awakens, and with it, her centrepiece battle takes place. I’m sure that it isn’t really something that I need to go into exacting detail about, because the following scene is enduring all by itself. Though it is notable as a culmination of the various elements all coming together; music, animation, along with the story. This is where EOE leverage’s its theatrical status for all its worth, eschewing the patchwork TV production in favour of something grander.  The actions scenes are often impressive and horrifying in equal measure, and there is probably no greater proof than here. Asuka’s death is certainly disturbing, and much of that is down to how they chose to portray that violence. For me, it recalled earlier moments, where the eldritch abomination like nature of the Evangelion had been evoked. These moments give the audience a brief pause for thought, where much is suggested of how horrifying their (The Evangelion) unshackled nature truly is. The unease, which these moments produce, suggests that something is terribly untoward. Most of which is conveyed in how we (the audience) see others react, gleaning what we can from cutaway shots of onlookers recoiling in horror. If recollections of Unit O1’s previous ‘feast’ already served to perturb, then this surely toys with our imagination yet further. We only see Unit 02 itself being devoured, and now knowing what we do about the distinctly human aspect of the Evangelion, the horror of Asuka’s fate here, trapped inside, now inhabits an altogether more unsettling space. The series ending, try as I might to appreciate it, was never going to suffice. It was nice to see Shinji’s own paradigm being settled, but I felt like it would have been more effective with a little more of that ambiguity stripped away. For as much as Neon Genesis Evangelion likes to steep itself in duplicity, this is where it’s felt like it was something of a compromise. The inner turmoil was my key takeaway from the work as a whole; it forms the crux of every relationship, and dictates the course of every action. It’s a lonely show, something that if not apparent from the get-go, slowly permeates throughout the narrative. Shinji is an initially an awkward character to relate to, bumbling his way through his scenes, though much of this weak nature is revealed to be a product of his environment. The world in which this all takes place is irreparably damaged, and even if the true extent of the second impact isn’t made expressly clear, it becomes quite apparent that humanity lives on in its own self-inflicted dystopia. It is this inherent contradiction that defines nearly every relationship, as each is unwilling (or unable) to acknowledge their true feelings. It is ultimately a self-destructive existence for the likes of Shinji, who permeates multiple meanings to his interactions with people, the paradoxical nature of which is explored in the conflict that defines the multiple endings and interpretations. Shinji is our proxy, but even so, it can be difficult to empathize with him. A hero he may be, but it’s more by designation than by design. It’s a role, which he consistently questions, as he exhibits almost none of the values we typically associate with someone tasked with such a mammoth task. He ostensibly comes of age throughout the series, gradually gaining some semblance of self-worth, though it a precarious act as he constantly seeks assurance from his father, and later anyone (which becomes something that Asuka resents him for). No character is treated like a proverbial puppet more than Shinji. In fact, it is SEELE themselves, who objective turns out to ultimately “break” Shinji, rendering his ego to naught. For all intents and purposes, it could be argued that the whole world is literally against him, at least by his own perceptions. His relationship is Asuka is extremely strained, initially showing hints of affection, with their hilariously depressing kiss encapsulates this dichotomy; Neither the circumstances (nor the characters) allowing for anything to take place. Even the slight reprieve offered in the finale (Asuka’s acknowledgement amidst the fallout) is obfuscated by the context in which it’s delivered.

Shinji’s journey dictates the ending, first, in the original series, where his perspective colours the ambiguity from which we see the fallout. Thematically this works (and I can see why some may prefer the agency it gives the audience), though I feel that the abstract nature of this ending, robs it of some emotional resonance. This conclusion is also hampered (at least for me) in how abrupt it is, with certain story threads left dangling. In my opinion, ‘End of Evangelion’ lives up to it’s billing as it gives a much more balanced and subjective conclusion, where we see first-hand “The Human Instrumentality Project” in effect. I was suitably invested to the point where I wished to see how the end was reached, and of course, see something that wasn’t cobbled together with recycled animation or slight of hand. I can certainly appreciate the original ending as a companion piece, which serves as a more personal and intimate resolution. But the fact remains, a lot of the fascination surely lays with how incomplete this all feels, with each finale, seemingly answering as many questions as they create. That said, I find that both endings offer up a surprisingly optimistic message. The original may be more overtly upbeat, but I think that EOE’s is lent more credence by virtue of the horror that precedes it. The life affirming message is delivered in the most tragic of circumstances, and I perhaps find that most heartening of all. By no means does ‘End of Evangelion’ end on a positive note, but I think it’s enough that it carries the promise of one. The somber sentiment may be more prevalent for some, though my rebuttal would point to the fact that, for as depraved and unethical the means may be, everyone ultimately wants to be happy. There is something to be said about the apparent theology that makes up a large part of Evangelion, and even if it has no real implication beyond the aesthetic (those initial warnings from long-time fans that, yes, a lot of the pseudo Christian imagery is window dressing at best. ), I still feel that its prominence casts a large shadow over proceedings. If nothing else, it certainly lends a morbid atmosphere to the show. When one starts to take this aspect into closer consideration, it’s easy to see why theory regarding Evangelion has become so prevalent. One of the constants throughout is the titular Evangelion. Though they remain a focal part, their function, both narratively and thematically, are constantly shifting. Initially agents of change, they are presented as a mysterious, if helpful force. Gradually this is peeled back, as various allusions are made to what they actually are. Throughout, we see how their pilots are affected by their experiences in their cockpits. Shinji is continually drawn and repulsed by the idea of piloting his Evangelion, seeing it as a means to forge something meaningful, whilst at the time, also aware of how dependant he becomes of his new role. Rei is driven by a sense of twisted duty, one that routinely sees her sacrificing herself (needlessly) for the cause. And Asuka perceives her role as raison d'être to obfuscate her own past, this being both a strength and a weakness. For better or worse, the Evangelion define them, and as the story progresses, we see that this takes on altogether more sinister connotations.  When viewed as an allegory, I think Evangelion holds multiple meanings, depending on what part is being referred to, or indeed who is viewing it. My initial impressions were pretty much taking it at face value, though I think the misdirection of the opening is a deliberate ploy for the most part. I’ve read that some take it as a deconstruction of the very genre it inhabits, though not having much experience with that myself, I choose to focus solely on the emotional aspects. Indeed, the psychological (and philosophical) strands become much more prominent as the series progresses, as it steadily veers into becoming a wholly oblique affair. Humanity may live on, but in spite of itself; something which is made abundantly clear, throughout.

Though its message initially seems quite muddled, I still feel it one that still manages to remain pertinent. I certainly can’t fault it for ambition. And there is something to be said about a piece of work that I simultaneously feel, is one of the most bleak and uplifting things I have witnessed, flawed or otherwise. I appreciate the themes that it chooses to explore. I like the characters, even in spite of everyone being contemptible in some glaring way. And in that respect, this series is nothing, if not a parade of characters struggling to deal with their emotions. But maybe that’s why I like it amidst all the abstract craziness; it retains a very human message.

[ask-de-writer]

The next WIP is a LONG one.  Here, I am only including the last few chapters, along with a link to the start of DARING DO AND THE COMPASS OF DISCORD.

This story is rated YA, having some violence and death.

DARING DO AND THE COMPASS OF DISCORD

WIP : MLP Fan Fiction : Cover art by Wind the Mama Cat

Daring Do is given a unique quest by a most unusual patron.  She must find and recover the ancient Compass of Discord before its misuse can wreck the world of Equestria.  Of course it would be easier to do if ANYPONY, even Discord, knew WHERE IT WAS …

DARING DO AND THE COMPASS OF DISCORD starts here.

Chapter 7  Voyage to Kuduspar

The reality was slightly different.  As Amber pointed out over a complex game of cards and dice which Morail was winning, “When ships have adventurous voyages, bad things have been happening!  We want a nice, quiet voyage.  

“We will be making for Kuduspar, on the north coast of the Eland Republic.  We are not going all the way to Degrate, on the Forgotten River, in the Zebra Confederation.”

Daring Do discarded.  Both Amber and Withers rolled dice.  Withers picked up the card and added it to the layout in front of him.  Morail promptly laid her entire hand across his layout and, grinning, raked in the chips from the pot!

As Daring Do watched Morail in bemusement, she offered, “The way that you play this would convince anypony that you are a Diamond Dog, for sure.  You have to grow up playing this game to be as good as you are, and only Diamond Dogs do that.”

Morail grinned.  “<I am a Diamond Dog!  I was raised as much by the Ruby Drift as I was on the farm.  Only blood separates us.  I earned that Drift Supervisor and Mining Explosives Expert certification!>”

Amber grinned too.  She dealt the next hand.  Dice rolled and cards were laid down, picked up or added to growing layouts in front of each player.

Leaning on the railing and watching sea and sky as the Malachite sliced through the waves was another pastime.  Out on the open sea there were few birds but they did occasionally see one.

Pointing with excitement, Morail exclaimed, “Look at the size of the wings on that one!  What is it called, Doctor Do?”

Smiling at Morail's excitement, Daring Do replied, “That is called an albatross.  Some sailors claim that they never land, except to nest and raise their young. They do dive for fish to eat.  Whether they land for anything else, you would need to ask somepony besides me.  I have only seen them flying or on the water.”

Morail was almost bouncing with her present freedom.  “Amber has released me from studying the ship's operations for the next two days!”

Interested, Daring Do and Withers asked her, “What does she have you studying, Morail?  Can you tell us?”

Smiling, she replied, “Some of it, anyway.  I have been learning modern fire control systems!  These bigger guns and being on a ship make it all really tricky!

“Besides that, she has me studying the theory of modern Mage/Tech ship engines.  I really can't tell you much about them.  The history of them is fun, though.  The Mage/Tech interface and first engines were invented by the Equestrian Rom, of all beings!  They used them to power prostheses for their sick or injured Horses so that they could still pull their caravans!”

Withers nodded.  “I can easily believe that, Morail.  They invented the modern Magic Net too. Rather their foals did, so that they could stay in touch when bands were far apart.  Old Marchhare claims that they used it to, and I quote, Plot against their elders, end quote.  When their elders found out about it, they used it too, but made sure that the youngsters had a private part of it so that they could still plot and scheme!”

Daring Do chuckled, “That sounds so like the Rom!  They say that the young have to get away with things.  It builds character.”

The Malachite made her way from the Eastern Sea, south, just past the Equator, into the Stonewall Strait.  The land fell away north to the continent of Epona.  To the south, the land was the northern coast of the continent of Sorica, home, among other nations, of the Zebra Confederation.  Separating the two continents was the Medial Sea, leading on through to the Poniesian Isles and the Great Western Ocean.

The days of the voyage passed without incident until they raised the lighthouse of Kuduspar in the Eland Republic.  A swift, lightly armored patrol vessel flying the Zebra Confederation banner tried to intercept them.  It had a small 50 mm cannon in a forward turret and fired a warning shot across their bows.

The Zebra ship demanded, “You must divert to the port of Degrate to have all of your cargo and goods evaluated and taxed.  Any beings aboard who do not have Zebra Confederation travel documents must pay a fine and have proper documents issued before they can be permitted to travel further!”

Amber returned, “Nils Downitall does not own the Medial Sea!  We are going to Kuduspar and you will need to learn to swim if you try to stop us!”

Morail was operating the fire control board.  The Malachite's forward turret of 125 mm guns swung to bear on the Zebra ship.  Morail was wearing the headpiece and speaking softly through it to the ship's turrets.  Each of the three guns of the forward turret shifted their aim a little.

The captain of the Zebra Confederation apparently failed to notice, or he was following a script!  He demanded, “Apparently our warning shot was not enough! Prepare to be boarded and all of your cargo seized!”

Amber's paw dropped in a slicing motion!  Morail tapped her fire control board.  The forward turret's guns blazed with flame and smoke!  The ship shuddered under the recoil of the heavy shells blasting out to the opposing vessel!

Almost instantly, the small turret of the Zebra patrol ship erupted!  A huge hole from an exploding shell tore apart the forward superstructure, just under the flying bridge!  The third shell made a hole in the side of the boat, just below the smokestack!  A sudden roaring wash of mixed steam and smoke back out the hole and bursting up out the stack told of the end of the patrol vessel's engines.

Amber sent back by Magic Net, “Apparently, OUR warning shot was enough!  You were warned that we are going into Kuduspar.  You have only three choices.

“First, you may abandon ship and we will sink the hulk.

“Second, we can tow your vessel into Kuduspar.  By staying aboard, you retain a claim to the ship after paying us for the tow.

“Thirdly, you may abandon ship and we will claim the wreck as a prize of combat.  

“We will pick up your survivors in either abandonment scenario.”

Sourly, the captain of the damaged Zebra vessel decided, “We will take your tow to Kuduspar. How will you get the tow line to us?”

Amber answered, “We have a pegasus traveling with us as a passenger.  She will deliver you a light line to pull over a hawser for the tow.”

Soon Daring Do was bridging the gap between the two vessels trailing a light heaving line to the now wrecked Zebra Patrol boat.  She dropped the line across the bows and left the rest to the crew of the boat.

In short order, the convoy of ship and hulk was back underway, headed into Kuduspar.

At the harbor entrance, the Malachite was taken by a harbor pilot and the wreck was taken under tow by a tug.

Chapter 8  Import License

In the harbormaster's office, Daring Do was explaining the ostensible purpose of the expedition and the reason for some of their more “unusual” supplies.

She offered, “You see, Sir, what the Spinel Drift Enclave, near the southern end of the Selene Mountains, has found appears to be ruins of what may be the root civilization for the famous Nil Eya civilization.  The news of this possibility has severely upset the Downitall Party.  They hold, as a core belief, that it was a ZEBRA civilization that sprang full blown with brilliant writing systems, stone work, and architecture due to the pure genius of the superior Zebra kind.

“If this find bears out, as the true Nil Eya root civilization, it will totally destroy one of the basic claims by which the Downitalls hold power.”  

Daring Do made a twisted face as she observed, “For some MYSTERIOUS REASON, they don't like that and do not want us to succeed.

“The Downitalls totally fail to grasp what success is to an Antiquarian.  It will not matter whether what we find is the root beginnings of the Nil Eya civilization, a later thing built by survivors of the Nil Eya slave revolt, or something else entirely.  The only real gauge of success will be uncovering the truth of an ancient civilization.”

The window pane frames made a fine shadow play with the harbormaster's tall spiraled horns as he gazed out at the Zebra Confederation's shot up patrol boat being maneuvered into a drydock.  He gestured out at his nearly empty harbor and replied, “I see.  Look what their declaration of the Medial Sea being a Zebra pond has done to our trade.  Under the circumstances, I am granting the import license to you directly and noting that it has the formal backing of both the Supreme Matriarch of the Diamond Dog Council of Enclaves and the Joint Crowns of Equestria as well.”

He pushed a small stack of papers across his desk.  Daring Do began to fill out and sign where necessary.  He took the packet and sorted out sheets which he neatly folded and sealed, returning them to Daring Do.

“Best of fortune on your expedition, Doctor Do.  There is a fair amount of Discordian activity in the area that you will be investigating.  I hope that they do not cause you too much trouble.”

Dryly, Daring Do replied, “I fear them far less than the Downitalls.  That is why we have the special equipment that you have just authorized.  We thank you.”

She gathered up her papers and fit everything neatly into her saddle bags and left.

She had barely closed the door than she was confronted by a bulky zebra resplendent in a Downitall Party uniform!  He demanded, “I am war trained!  I am a big zebra and you are a mere pegasus, so don't get any funny ideas!  Just hoof over those papers for a Zebra Confederation stamp on each page! Fifty bits gold for each stamp and any page I don't like gets torn up AFTER I stamp it, so you still owe, got it?”

Daring Do wasted no time on chit-chat!  A fast poke at the zebra's nose caused him to shy away sideways!  As he was shifting his weight, she kicked the foreleg that was taking his weight, up high, dropping the stripy on his side, like a broken sack of oats!  She followed up with a double buck to his exposed gut, driving the wind out of him!

Turning to the door, she informed the harbormaster, “There appears to be some black and white garbage out here.  It is obstructing your walkway.”

“I see it, Doctor Do!  Thanks! I will make sure that it is taken care of!”

Happily humming the Funeral March for Kings from the ancient Nil Eya civilization, Daring Do went down to the Malachite's dock.  The head stevedore examined the papers and ordered his crew, “Begin off loading everything!  It has all been cleared!  Be careful with those ammo boxes!”

Chapter 9  On The Eland Veldt

The buildings of Kuduspar were far behind.  The surrounding farms, managed by the many industrious kinds of antelope that made up the population of the Eland Republic, gave way to semi open veldt with large patches of woodlands.

Morail was watching all in fascination.  “I was just getting used to the idea of ponies with one horn!  Now there are all of these antelope with TWO horns!  This whole area is so different from the veldt across the Selenes, where my Drift is!”

Withers looked up curiously, from the map that he was studying.  “Your Drift?  Morail, how much of what we have heard is real and how much is Amber taking advantage of this expedition to further her own plans for the Diamond Dogs?”

Morail, continued to look out the window eagerly as she replied, “My spell locked ID as Morail Ruby Drift pretty well nails part of it.  I was not really a Veldratten.  I was Morail Blum Fauntin and did go down into the Ruby Drift so much that they DID adopt me.

“Sometimes I would spend as much as a week or more down in the Drift.  The Diamond Dogs took really good care of my education and taught me.  I earned my mining and explosives certifications.

“My family sent me to the Royal University but the Ruby Drift was paying half of my education costs.

“The Downitall Party killed the rest of my surface family and claimed WITH DOCUMENTS TO PROVE IT, that I was killed too.  That let them seize the farm for one of their hacks.

“This is where the story gets really funny!  You see, I did play tricks on zebras above, about being a Diamond Dog adoptee that did not even know how to speak Zebra.  Tried to buy things with Diamond Dog gems and pretended not to know about Confederation Marks!

“The ZC Ambassador called Ruby Drift's Matriarch Topaz and she confirmed that I have been a Diamond Dog since fillyhood and knew Morail Blum Fauntin.  She told him about some of “our” tricks.  He bought it all.

“Nils Downitall actually had the story checked.  Since I did do those tricks, there were lots of good Zebra witnesses to the Zebra orphan raised by the Ruby Drift. Now, that is the official line!”

Daring Do spared a glance from her driving to flash a grin.  “So, you did tell Princess Luna the truth, that you already were a Diamond Dog!  How old were you when the Drift adopted you?”

Morail snorted cheerfully, “About six!  Vater was both proud and mortified at the same time!”

Glancing back, Morail suggested, “Pull off the road in the next patch of trees, Doctor Do.  We are being followed by a truck flying Zebra ensigns.  We need to set up our special equipment.”

Daring Do simply nodded and began watching the road sides as they entered the shade of the patch of woods.  The truck swerved, bounced fiercely and skidded to a stop!

Morail and Withers leaped out and pulled the canvas top clear of the back.  Withers, with practiced ease, opened the crates holding parts and began the assembly.

Morail opened another case and began to remove blocks about five centimeters on a side.  She was affixing things to them and setting them aside.  In moments, she was out near to the road, stabbing a tool into the sod, prying it up, setting a block in the hole and stomping it snug, then repeating the procedure.

Daring Do checked the action of a semiautomatic rifle and loaded in a big curved magazine.  She made sure that her throwing and combat knives were ready and that her big Spiderly 13 mm revolver was loose in its holster.

Seeing that Withers was done setting up the MT84 quickfire cannon, she passed him the rifle. Cannon set up, Withers made way for Morail to take the big gun's aiming handles and took cover where he could aim back the way that they had come.

They had only a small wait.  The big boxy black and white saloon style car roared almost past their position, screeching to a stop and backing up.  The Zebra Confederation flags on little staffs on each front fender fluttered in the breeze.  It crossed the roadside ditch at the same place that they had, bumping to a stop as soon as it was clear of the roadway.

Sitting quietly up by the MT84, Morail smiled and pulled out a small device.  It looked a bit like a Magic Net mirror.

The car's doors opened and two soldiers in Zebra Confederation Army Uniforms hopped out. They held the door for a portly Zebra in his Downitall Party uniform.

Daring Do pulled a tight smile of recognition.  This was the same Zebra that she had walloped flat back there by the harbormaster's office!  She also, and very ostentatiously, pulled her big 13 mm Spiderly revolver.

He did stop, as he stared down the unwavering barrel of the big pistol in Daring Do's grip. Arrogantly, he gestured toward her and one of the uniformed Zebras went to one knee, starting to aim his rifle at Daring Do.

From the brush off to one side, there was the crack of a rifle firing!  The Zebra fell squalling his pain!  He had facial cuts and one fore hoof was bleeding!  His rifle lay in two shattered fragments!  The other uniformed Zebra sprinted for the roadside ditch!

Morail, grinning ear to ear, barked in Diamond Dog, “Mistake!”  

She tapped her mirror like device!

Along the ditch and several places closer, explosions tore craters and scattered sod, tossing the second Zebra to the middle of the road!  The exploding mine under the Zebra Confederation car lifted its rear end up almost two meters! The right side rear wheels went flying, to crash into the brush as the car flipped up!  It fell heavily onto its left side, the undercarriage starting to burn!

The aghast Downitall Party uniformed Zebra picked himself up from where the blast from Morail's mine under the car had thrown him.  He gave a wild look at his fallen soldiers and the wrecked car, now ablaze.

Faced with massively superior firepower, he still tried to assert his “authority!”  “Doctor Do!  You must give over this expedition!  It has been forbidden by Nils Downitall himself!”

Daring Do raised her eyebrows and, incidentally, her big Spiderly revolver.  That last, she brought to bear on the second button of the Downitall Party uniform, just over his heart.

“For starters, sirrah, your precious Nils has overreached himself for a second time.  This is the Eland Republic, not the Zebra Confederation.

“Additionally, we are not even interested in the origins of the Nil Eya Civilization.  We know, from wall paintings and from written evidence that has survived, that the Zebras did play an important part in building it.  AS SLAVE LABOR. The genius that guided the labor was not Zebras.

“What we are now going to check out is an apparent temple complex found by workers from the Spinel Drift, here in the Eland Republic.  

“You may tell Nils that his minuscule navy has upset the Chineighese Empire with the interruption of free trade from Equestria, Prance, Saddle Arabia, Epona and parts of Sorica.

“Qushi Han Lee, the Pirate Queen, has dispatched a fleet to take care of the matter.”

He started to scoff, “Pirate Queen?  Our modern gunboats ...”

From her vantage point behind the MT84, Morail interrupted in her heavily Diamond Dog accented Zebra, “Qushi Han Lee's yards built the Malachite, our delivery packet.  You know, the ship that sank your light cruiser Das Capitin and blew the engines out of your patrol ship.  She is sending two battle ships, four heavy cruisers, six Hunter Destroyers and a pegasus carrier strike ship.

“They have been ordered to sink your entire navy and destroy every ship yard in the Confederation.”

The official drew himself up and snapped, “They cannot do that!  It violates International Law!”

Daring Do, tilted her head and scratched an ear, while suppressing a chuckle.  “Really?  And your criminal blockade of the Medial Sea does not violate the same laws?”

He snarled, “Not at all!! Nils Downitall has declared the entire Medial Sea to be our waters to regulate as we see fit!”

Morail barked, “Then he can have no recourse to International Law!  Setting aside Free Passage in the Medial Sea breaks those same laws!”

She brought the barrel of the MT84 to bear on him too.

Daring Do pointed north. “Kuduspar is only about two to three day's walk that way.  I suggest that you gather your fallen zebras and start walking.  Since it is illegal for them to carry those guns in the Eland Republic, I would suggest leaving them behind unless you want to spend time in a Republic jail.”

Gathering his uniformed zebras and starting to walk, he shouted back, “You have not heard the last of ONDER OTTARHOOF!”

Chapter 10  A True Discordian

The expanse of the Eland Veldt passed behind Daring Do's party.  They entered a range of broken, upheaved strata ruptured by the speckled gray of granite.  The road began to twist and double back as they climbed the gray broken rock of the hills.  Smaller brush and tall trees began to dominate the area.  The road led into a defile that opened out to a small valley with a tiny town.

It was a simple “wide spot in the road” sort of place.  There were only seven buildings, including a little store and an Eland Republic Government Station.

In a small cloud of dust, they pulled up in front of the Government Station.  Their hooves resounded hollowly on the dry, knotholed boards of the porch as they trooped inside.

The antelope behind the counter looked up at them with interest.  Daring Do noted a modern, desk mounted Magic Net mirror in its frame.  There were papers stuck onto three standing spikes and some stacked into In and Out baskets.

He looked up and mildly stated, “I am Meridian Courser.  May the Path of Chaos bless you all.  Are you the famous Doctor Daring Do?”

Daring Do stopped cold.  “I am she.  Are you really a Discordian?”

He nodded, his long spiraled horns making short arcs as he did so.  “I am indeed.  Following Discord or Eris, as she often is, is a lawful and proper religious choice here in the Eland Republic.

“I did have a reason for asking your identity, Doctor Do.  A number of complaints have been lodged against you by Ondar Ottarhoof, Chief Consul of the Zebra Confederation.”

Daring Do nodded.  “I expect so.  He seems to think that this is the Zebra Confederation.  At least, he acts as though the word of Nils Downitall is law here.

“Have you any means to verify the truth or falsehood of statements?”

The station master smiled as he busied himself doing some unobtrusive things to a document on his desk.  “I have, Doctor Do.  I have applied a non equine magical truth test to this document.  It contains the accusations against you.

“Your replies will appear as shades of color according to the truth of your answers.”

He turned to Morail and offered, “You appear to be a Zebra and might have to answer to the Confederation courts of law for some of the accusations in this case.”

Morail shook her head negatively.  “Appearances are deceiving.  I am a Diamond Dog.” She held out her spell locked ID for the Station Master to examine. “I will be happy to explain my part in the recent action against Ondar Ottarhoof.  That way, it will be a part of your truth tested documentation.”

He returned her ID and observed, “I will want your information as a part of this investigation.  It sounds like it will be of interest.”

By the time that Meridian's questions were done, the document of accusations was showing the yellows and oranges of evasions or half truths and the brilliant red of outright lies.

The answers of Daring Do, Withers and Morail showed the clear green of truth.  A few of the questions about the origin and reasons for the expedition showed the yellow green of incomplete but true answers.

After Meridian closed his official questioning, he asked, “Doctor Do, are you aware that the followers of Discord are no more monolithic than, say, followers of Celestia or Luna?  There are many sects of us.  True Discordians of all sects respect life, just as Discord him/her self does.

“We are not so arrogant as to think that we understand the subtleties of his/her Chaos.  What we do is observe his/her Chaos and record both its nature and its results. To us, it appears that his/her Chaos is a major driving force for beings of wisdom to develop both in mind and civilization.”

Morail asked him, “What of those Discordians who think that they have found where Eris is creating her Chaos and rush in, often violently, to 'help her spread Chaos'.  What of those who killed my friends in the Blum Fauntin farm, over in the Zebra Confederation?”

Meridian leaned back and steepled his split hooves.  “Those are actually two questions. First, those who rush in to 'help' Discord, whether violent or not, are not ones that we count as True Discordians.  They are so arrogant that they believe that they can grasp and assist the plans of a being more than three thousand years of age, with experience, cleverness and subtlety to match.

“Second, the Blum Fauntin attack, in spite of appearances, was not done by any sort of Discordians.  We used to buy a good deal of our supplies from across the mountains, especially from the Blum Fauntins.  The killers used automatic weapons, a thing that is anathema to all Discordians. Since the farm was hoofed over to Downitall cronies, I personally suspect the Downitall Party of those murders.”

He shrugged.  “I have no real proof of that, however.  I wish that I did.  Whoever it was blackened the name of all Discordians and that of Eris/Discord itself.”

Daring Do offered, “Meridian, sir, I have spoken with Eris herself and to her trusted assistant, Cyrene.  Cye feels as you do, about the Blum Fauntin attack.  I do think that she would not mind your sort of worship.”

Meridian smiled and said, “You were blessed indeed.  You may go on your way unhindered by the Eland Republic and, according to the documents sent to me, with the blessing of Amber, Supreme Matriarch of the Diamond Dog Council of Enclaves.

“May such Chaos as you encounter further your goals.”

As they drove away, Morail pointed to a lesser used road.  “Let's go up there, Doctor Do. That way will take us to the northern most entrance to the Spinel Drift.  I will feel far safer, once we are underground.”

They only got a few kilometers up the road.  Daring Do stopped the truck.  They could hear rifle and light artillery fire up ahead.  

Saying only, “Those are my friends that are being attacked,” Morail got out of the cab and went around to the back of the truck.  The vehicle rocked some as she climbed up into the bed.  Daring Do and Withers nodded to each other and began loading and checking their pistols and rifles.

When Morail tapped on the truck's roof to let them know that the MT84 was ready, they began to advance cautiously up the road.  Rounding a bend, they found the way blocked by a Zebra Confederation military half track truck.

Chapter 11  The Battle At Spinel Drift

Daring Do quietly set up a Magic Net call.  Meridian's face appeared in the Mirror.  “What is it, Doctor Do?  I hear what appears to be a military action in the background.”

She nodded.  “It is, here, take a look.”  She held up the mirror so that Meridian could see the half track that was blocking the road.  “As you can see and hear, the Zebra Confederation has illegally entered Eland Republic territory and are attacking the northern entrance to the Diamond Dog's Spinel Drift.  It appears to be a small number of attackers.  

“We are requesting permission to assist the Spinel Drift.”

She could see the conflict in Meridian's face.  “We understand your distaste for the use of automatic weapons, Sir.  Still, the Zebras are using them and, as you know already, we possess an MT 84.”

Heavily, he nodded.  “This is not Discord's Chaos.  If you feel it necessary, you have permission to enter the fray.”

“Thank you, Sir.  We appreciate how heavy a decision that was.”  She closed the mirror and nodded to Withers.

“This is your area of expertise, Withers.  As of now, you are in charge.”

Withers nodded and directed, “First back up until we can't be seen by anypony in the half track. We need to scout their position before we enter the fight.  I hear at least two guns that appear to be old MT 81s.  Obsolete does not mean harmless!”

While Withers was talking, Daring Do was backing their truck down the road and around the bend, out of sight from the battle ahead of them.

As soon as they were safe, Withers got out, taking his rifle with him.  He told Morail, “I need you to stay here with the MT 84 to protect the truck and Doctor Do.  I am going to scout the location of enemy.  I will be back soon.”

Morail nodded her understanding. Withers quietly went into the roadside brush and seemed to vanish. Watching his professional skill, Daring Do smiled tightly and wished him well.

After a wait that seemed interminable but was really only about ten minutes, Withers came back.  Gathering the others to him, Withers took paper and and began to sketch out the Zebra position.

“They have three MT 81s.  Two are on these high points, to fire down on the Enclave entrance.  The last one is down here.  We need to remove or get around the half track to be able to take it out.”

Daring Do asked, “How well guarded is the half track?”

Withers replied, “I saw only the driver.  The Zebra leader does not appear to be too well trained. He has all of his forces committed to the attack, except for the half track driver.  While I was scouting, his attention was entirely on the action around the entrance.”

Morail pointed to the roadside where the half track was parked and inquired, “From my visits to the Spinel Drift when I was younger, I seem to remember that this is a longish slope.  Am I right?”

“It is.  What do you have in mind?”

“I will want you and Doctor Do to cover me while I sneak up and plant a pair of remote detonation charges on the half track.  Don't shoot unless he spots me.

“Then we will come around the bend.  I will open fire on those two high point MT 81s.  We should be able to knock out both of the high positions, since we are taking them from behind.  Their own half track will shield us from the lower one.”

Morail grinned savagely.  “Until I blow those charges.  They should flip it onto that slope without much damage to the road.  We should be able to mop up the other gun without too much trouble.”

Withers nodded acceptance.  “I will take those rocks up to the right.  When you two start your move, I will pepper the lower MT 81 to keep them from turning its mount to shoot at you.”

Tense, Daring Do took the wheel of the truck.  Morail got two of her explosive blocks and set the detonators into them.  She crawled away up the road and around the bend.

It was not much later that she returned the same way.  Climbing into the truck bed, behind the MT 84, she rapped the top of the cab to let Daring Do know that she was ready.  Withers ghosted off through the brush and climbed into position behind the granite boulders.

With his high sign, Daring Do charged the truck around the bend!  She felt recoil make the truck shudder as she heard Morail's three round bursts from the MT 84!  A shell from the Zebra Confederation's MT 81 nest on the left exploded in the road!

The driver of the half track had his rifle out and started to shoot at their truck's windshield!  Twin fireballs eruped under his vehicle!  The blast lifted him from his feet and hurled him aside as his machine lifted up and slammed back down, teetering at the edge of the rocky slope!

Hoping that Morail would have the sense to hang on tight, Daring Do, aimed their truck at the damaged half track!  The impact jolted them to a brief stop!  The flaming wreck tumbled down, bouncing as it rolled, scattering burning debris.

Steering as best she could while peering through the spiderweb of cracks in her windshield, Daring Do sent their truck careening down the road into the Zebra position!

She was reassured by the recoil shocks and muzzle blasts coming over the cab top.  Morail was still busy back there!

There fell a sudden silence! Daring Do hit the brakes, preparing to leap out to Morail's assistance when she made out the frantically waiving white flags from the Zebra positions!

The solid gates of the Spinel Drift yawned wide to release a small horde of Diamond Dogs carrying arms!  One group detached themselves from the rest and charged up the road toward the truck!

Daring Do was too shaken to clearly follow Morail's rapid barking of Diamond Dog as she explained the situation.

Chapter 12  The Spinel Drift

Morail leaped down from the back of the truck and embraced one of the armed and armored Diamond Dogs!  Daring Do could easily follow her barking now.

“Matriarch Moonstone!  It is so good to see you!  Did you get Amber's dispatches about this expedition?”

The Matriarch replied, “I did.  Besides this little war problem, we have some real trouble in Shaft 73.  We were following a pegmatite seam that was loaded with first rate emeralds.  It has either petered out or we somehow lost it.

“Could you find the time to take a look?  Your skill at following gem drifts is legendary.”

Morail nodded in full understanding of what was important.  To Diamond Dogs. She turned to Daring Do and requested, “Can we spare the time to look over this problem for the Matriarch?  It will give us a lot of good will with the Drift.”

Daring Do smiled.  “I do understand that the Drift has priorities that are different from us on the surface.  If it won't hold us up for more than a few days, I can't see how it will be a problem.”

The Matriarch's relief was obvious.  Her response was generous.  “We will see to the repair of your truck, Doctor Do.  We will replace your ammunition and restore your supplies of explosives and detonators too.  Anything else that you need to further your expedition's aims, just let us know.  If we can do it, we will.”

In spite of the many places that Daring Do had been to, seeing the inside of a Diamond Dog Drift was a new experience for her.  It was obvious that Morail was right at home.  She was utterly relaxed and barking jokes and light banter with the others around her.

They had hitched Diamond Dogs to pull the truck into the drift.  Matriarch Moonstone explained, “Engines like yours can be really noisy inside our tunnels.  We will see to it that your truck gets to the proper exit as soon as it is repaired.  

“It would be a good idea to get out any personal things that you will need for the next few days. We can easily provide you with food appropriate to zebra and antelope kinds.  We do quite a lot of trade with the surface and often entertain trade delegations.”

Daring Do and Withers promptly gathered packs with notes, note taking supplies and clothes. Daring Do had no expectation of needing it but packed along her beloved Spiderly revolver and a box of ammunition.  She was mildly surprised to see Matriarch Moonstone nodding with approval.

Morail and the Diamond Dogs were leading the way, deeper into the Spinel Drift.  Daring Do was half expecting a place of darkness or torch lighted gloom.  It was nothing of the sort.

Clear light shone like the daylight above them, illuminating the whole underground complex.  The source was panes like large magic net mirrors.  Looking into one showed blue sky and some clouds drifting by.  

Fascinated, Daring Do asked Matriarch Moonstone, “Is that really the sky overhead that you are transmitting down here for light?”

She nodded agreeably, “Yes. As soon as we found out about the magic net sending images, we adapted it to lighting.  We use it for a lot besides communications. I am sure that Supreme Matriarch Amber would appreciate your not mentioning this in your book on this expedition.”

Daring Do thought that over for only a moment.  “I shall run the manuscripts past her to be sure that they remain both accurate and preserve anything that you wish kept secret.”

Matriarch Moonstone paused in deep thought for a bit and offered, “If you wish, you may accompany our party to Shaft 73 and watch Morail at her real work.  Depending on how that idiotic business with the Oathbreaker Downitall plays out, some of what you see may have to be kept secret.  That will be Supreme Matriarch Amber's call and since you have already agreed to her approval of the manuscript, I can see no reason to keep you from it.”

The party set out deeper into the drift.  Everywhere that she looked, Daring Do saw walls and pillars that had been exquisitely finished, the stone's natural colors and forms lovingly enhanced.  No compromise with strength had been tolerated.  Besides the unexpected light, she was surprised at how quiet so many Diamond Dogs could be.

Soon they passed out of the residential and industrial areas and into tunnels that were rough hewn from the native stone.  There was none of the careful decoration of the other areas.  Rails laid along the floor allowed carts full of stone to be removed or empty carts to return to the various work faces of the extensive mine.

Matriarch Moonstone stopped, gesturing at an area of shaft wall that had a deep cut into its side. “See, Morail?  The whole fine seam of pegmatite just seems to peter out.”

Morail held out a hoof for a mirror that was shining a good beam of light.  She put her head into the cut and shined the light around some.  She backtracked up the tunnel to where the seam appeared to start out over a meter thick. She wriggled into the starting area of the whitish pegmatite.  Using a small one hoofed pick, she dug into the several faces of the stone around her.

Backing out, she put a fairly large broken emerald into the Matriarch's hooves.  All smiles, she announced, “No use following the seam further down shaft from where it ended.  However, if you dig DOWN along this fault,” she pointed with an educated hoof, “you should encounter the other half of the seam where it was split by the fault.  I would guess, about two to three meters should do it.  You will be following it back that way.”

She paused and looked around at the collection of diamond dogs before asking, “Would you like me to help with setting charges?”

[themyskira]

Wonder Woman #50 postmortem: “You know how strident Wonder Woman fans can be”

I want to cap off my readthrough of this unmitigated shitshow with a look at a recent interview James Robinson did with Newsarama, reflecting back on his twenty-issue Wonder Woman run.

I’m doing this for two reasons: One, because having read the full run and formed my own impressions (and, dare I say, some rather strident opinions), I genuinely do think it can be interesting to see what the writer has to say about it, what they were trying to achieve with it and, looking back, how they feel about the run.

And two, because having read what Robinson has to say, HOOBOY, I HAVE A FEW THOUGHTS OF MY OWN.

Newsarama: James, the one through-line of your entire run is Wonder Woman's twin brother, Jason. I know he was the motivation for you working on this book. Did you know the whole story before you started? Or did this story evolve as you wrote it?

James Robinson: I knew to a degree. As you said, I was specifically asked to pay off the gigantic plot point that Geoff Johns had left at the end of "Darkseid War." So it was always part of my plan.

Are. You. FUCKING. KIDDING ME.

The entire premise of this run. The wholesale derailment of Wondy’s Rebirth story. The rampant shredding of her newly-established Rebirth backstory. Sidelining Diana for the better part of a year in favour of a repulsive twin brother and some shit with Darkseid.

ALL OF THAT.

Served no wider purpose.

Was not intended to build towards some Rebirth metaplot or contribute to an overarching Justice League story.

Was mandated, in fact, for no other reason than that Geoff motherfucking Johns wanted to TIE UP A DANGLING PLOT THREAD FROM TWO-YEAR-OLD CROSSOVER.

He goes on.

Originally, I was going to be on it for a shorter period of time. I had originally planned to be on it for about eight issues, I think. And then when I was getting the twice-monthly book in on time (which is tough; they really beat you up), they asked me to stay on.

There are better, more eloquent arguments against the fortnightly publishing schedule — which is incredibly punishing for creators and prioritises quantity ahead of quality — but none, perhaps, are more simple or succinct than James Robinson got to write twenty issues of Wonder Woman because he got his scripts in on time.

And that gave me more time to develop Jason and play with him more.

I was careful to make sure it wasn't only about Jason, however. I was already getting crap from social media about how this is Wonder Woman's book and she should be the center of attention at all time. You know how strident Wonder Woman fans can be.

Well, that’s an interesting and thoroughly disingenuous interpretation of the critique.

The criticism was not that Wondy must be “the centre of attention at all times”, and therefore Robinson was wrong to spend any time developing any character other than her.

It was that Robinson turned Diana into such a passive, reactive — and, frankly, incompetent — character that she became barely necessary to the story at all. You could remove her from most of the issues in the Darkseid arc without affecting the progression of the plot at all, because she never does anything.

Yes, I got irate when Diana would routinely show up in six or seven pages of an issue, if she appeared at all. Funny thing, when I pick up a book titled Wonder Woman, I expect to occasionally see some actual WONDER WOMAN.

But that was the symptom rather than the problem. Because even when Diana was on the page, she was absent from the story.

And part of this is also about the characters Robinson chose to focus on instead of Wondy: Jason, Grail and Darkseid. Three characters that a lot of fans weren’t interested in, didn’t like and frankly resented having shoehorned into Wondy’s story. True, Robinson may have been asked to include them in the story, but it was his choice to prioritise them over Diana, and it was his writing that shaped Jason into such an odious character (something he confirms in the interview: Johns came up with the idea, he says, but “Most of who the character is now is stuff that I've actually come up with.”)

Put it this way: I didn’t see anybody complaining in December 2016 when Greg Rucka devoted an entire issue to Barbara Minerva’s backstory, did you?

But oh, I’m sorry, was that too strident for you?

Nrama: During your run, you tied into several events that were going on elsewhere in the DC Universe. Even this current story arc ties into Dark Nights: Metal and involves the Justice League. Was that a goal, to make Jason part of the greater DCU?

Robinson: Yes. I always do that stuff, though. I always try to tie into bigger stories. Whether it was my stuff at DC or what I did at Marvel, like Fantastic Four and Invaders and what-not, I always enjoy that about comic book universes. I like when writers try to embrace the whole place.

Here’s the thing about this.

I like the sandbox nature of a shared universe. I’m not a fan of event tie-ins, which have a tendency to derail the stories of individual books in order to aggressively market some company-wide crossover that I couldn’t care less about, but I like that there’s this whole wider world of heroes and villains and settings and mythologies that writers can draw on and play with. And you can tell some really cool stories out of the collision of those different mythologies and characters — think Phil Jimenez’s ‘Gods of Gotham’, for instance, where the Wonderfam and the Batfam are forced to team up when some of Batman’s most powerful rogues are possessed by Ares’ children.

That’s not the way Robinson loops the wider DCU into his stories, or at least it wasn’t in Wonder Woman.

Robinson goes for insider references, often obscure ones, of the sort that will only make sense to people who’ve been reading the same comics as him over the past three decades.

In WW #33, he introduced and then immediately killed off a rebooted version of the Atomic Knights in a four-page sequence that added nothing to the plot.

In WW #42, he featured a flashback to Jason fighting the Deep Six, a group of Jack Kirby villains. Ostensibly this is framed as a set-up by Grail to orchestrate her first meeting with Jason, but Robinson milks it to crack jokes about Kirby’s 1970s dialogue — and if you’re not familiar with the characters (as I wasn’t), their inclusion makes little sense.

In the same issue, Robinson also works in the Wild Huntsman… apparently for no other reason than to amuse himself… and again, if you don’t know who he is, you’ll have no idea why Grail is trying so hard to kill him or why you should care.

And then there’s the Metal tie-in.

Like I said, I don’t like event tie-ins, but it is possible to make them work. G. Willow Wilson’s Ms Marvel has been looped into a number of crossover events over the course of its life, and while I’d prefer that clusterfucks like Civil War II stayed the hell away from Kamala and her pals, Wilson has done an effective job of using these events as a springboard for some really interesting personal conflicts and character work. There’s no extra required reading for these stories; she gives you everything you need to know, so those who aren’t following the event aren’t at a disadvantage.

Robinson gives you nothing.

This is how he links the Dark Gods’ story into Metal:

Diana [narration]: Could I really have summoned this? When we wielded the Tenth Metal against Barbatos, it had the ability to wish thoughts into reality.* Ed. note: * See Dark Nights: Metal #6! — Chris

And a couple of pages later —

Karnell [narration]: ...our beautiful world — which you regard as the ‘Dark Multiverse’ — we see as a paradise… where we were more than even gods to our worshippers… we were everything!

I didn’t read Metal and I’m not planning to. That’s not a value judgement, it’s just not something that sparks my interest.

But it means I don’t know who the bloody hell Barbatos is, and I’ve never heard of the Tenth Metal. I don’t know what the Dark Multiverse is, or how it works, or how it differs from the regular multiverse. When Robinson says Diana made an inadvertent wish while she was wielding this Tenth Metal, I don’t know if he’s picking up on a story point in Metal that I need to read up on.

So right off the bat, Robinson has alienated anybody who isn’t familiar with the event comic he’s drawing from.

And what infuriates me is that at the same time as he was doing all this, Robinson was getting muddled by Wonder Woman’s continuity, conflating superseded New 52 canon with (contradictory) Rebirth canon, inadvertently retconning things and failing even to keep his own narrative consistent. I’d argue he needed to spend less time making references to other comics and more time making sure he understood the one he was writing.

Robinson: [...] what I've always loved about Wonder Woman is her strength. Even when she was in that phase in the white costume, where she didn't have her powers, she had great strength.

Oh, you mean this era?

The era where Diana lost not only her powers, but all of her training and skills? Where she became a weepy, insecure romantic heroine, reliant on men to guide and save her from her own inexperience and her uncontrollable female emotionality? The era where she was constantly crying over her latest rugged love interests? That awesome era?

(Also misogynistic, racist and homophobic as fuuuuuck, but that’s another discussion.)

One of the reasons that era ended was because Gloria Steinham [sic] said, "Hey, she's Wonder Woman! She's a superhero and you've taken away her powers!"

But I actually thought her lacking powers was like saying, I don't need them to be a strong woman. And I think that was almost a more powerful message. I was surprised Ms. Steinem didn't get that, to be quite honest with you.

This is a characterisation of Steinem’s role in that period of Wondy’s history that I’ve seen before (always from men in the comics field), and it’s never sit well with me. It carries an unpleasant shade of gatekeeping.

The implication is that Steinem’s feelings about Wonder Woman (a character had loved since childhood) were less valid or even flat-out incorrect because she hadn’t read the right comics, that she was an ignorant outsider who ruined a good thing by coming in with a political agenda and trying to make Wonder Woman about feminism, that she didn’t have a right to complain about the comic because she wasn’t a ‘real’ fan.

And what Robinson doesn’t mention, as critics of Steinem and Ms. Magazine’s lobbying for a return to the classic Wondy rarely do, is that this campaign was set against a backdrop of unimpressive sales numbers and a struggle over the new direction that eventually gave rise to an ambitious and quite likely divisive ‘women’s lib’ arc written by African-American sci-fi writer Samuel R. Delany, which was intended to culminate in Diana triumphing over a group of male thugs attempting to shut down an abortion clinic run by women surgeons.

I have no doubt that Steinem played an important role in the way events panned out, but I’m also not surprised the ‘women’s lib’ arc never made it past its first issue.

(It was a truly dreadful first issue, btw, though the whole story behind it and what Delany was trying to do with it is fascinating.)

But that didn’t stop DC from kicking off Wondy’s superpowered return with the murder of a composite character representing Steinem and female DC editor Dorothy Woolfolk (whose name had previously been floated as editor for the book).

Then as now, Steinem got blamed by the gatekeepers for daring to interfere with Wonder Woman.

Nrama: Do you think Jason picked up some of her strength over the course of his story arc during your run?

Robinson: I think so, at least at the beginning as he was starting to develop. Now, technically, I suppose he's more powerful than her in that he has the power of their father Zeus and the power of storms and air control and things like that.

I like the fact that when he's given this armor, he realizes that his sister should have gotten it.

And he knows that the powers he has do not make him the better hero.

He knows his sister is the better hero.

So by the end of it, he just wants to be worthy of her, which I think was a nice character arc for him.

I can see how Robinson tried to achieve this character arc, but I wouldn’t call it anything close to a success.

Jason started as a deeply, deeply unlikeable character. He’s deeply selfish and emotionally immature. He doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions, mostly because he’s only ever concerned about how things affect him. When he learns about the mother he never met, when his adoptive father vanishes, every time Hercules leaves on one of his journeys, as he follows his twin sister’s heroics through the media — his thoughts are never about them and what they’re doing, or how they’re feeling, or if they’re okay. It’s always about how they’ve failed him, wronged him, abandoned him.

When we first meet him, he is helping goddamn Darkseid to systematically murder his own siblings. And it’s not because he’s being mind-controlled, or elaborately manipulated into believing that Darkseid is the good guy. It’s because he hates the guts out of Diana, the sister he’s never met, because he believes he’s entitled to the life that she has, and he wants to kill her for it.

If you want to get your readers past all that, you need one hell of a redemptive arc, and that’s one thing Jason never gets.

Because what happens next, after Jason gets an attack of conscience and switches sides, is that he freeloads off Diana, trashes her house, guilt trips her when she tries to set boundaries, and then when, heroism and glory don’t immediately come easily to him, runs away from home in the middle of the night.

The next time we see him is when he returns with the armour and a personality change. He’s still inexperienced, brash, impulsive and annoying, but that’s more or less the extent of it — he’s no longer the thoroughly objectionable character we saw in his first seven issues, and there’s no real explanation for the change.

Really, the vast majority of Jason’s character development takes place in the space between his disappearing at the end of WW #40 and reappearing at the end of WW #41.

Nrama: Wonder Woman #50 definitely feels like it's an ending to your time on Jason's character, and even his time in the book.

Robinson: It definitely has an element of finality to it, but Jason can be there for other writers, or indeed me, if I ever got to write him again.

Excuse me? If you ever got to what now?

Nrama: Is that a hint?

Robinson: I do enjoy writing him. I have this vague fantasy of one day doing a story and calling the comic Jason's Quest, which is an old DC title.

But no one's asked me so far and probably won't. So it's just something in my mind right now.

please, dear god in heaven, please let it stay there.

[feynites]

I saw Black Panther, and it was amazing.

 Not that I’m surprised, because everyone said so, but there were zero disappointments. The movie does not let down high expectations. The only thing I could find in all 100% seriousness to critique is that with some scenes, you can tell they wanted to be longer. And that’s pretty much it.

 There is a LOT to dig into with this movie. But I think my favourite thing was the remarkable amounts of character nuance that came into it by virtue of the actors and their relationship to the writing. Everyone knew their characters, and it showed. 

 Spoilers below.

 I think my favourite part was the argument between Okoye and Nakia, after T’Challa has lost the challenge to Erc. These two women are friends, albeit ones who don’t always see eye-to-eye, and in this moment, they are still friends. But they are choosing entirely different paths, and these paths simultaneously pain them and also embody the two conflicting impulses of Wakanda. Compassion versus tradition.

 Okoye serves the throne. And she believes that she can best serve Wakanda from where she is. And she’s not wrong, actually! She sits in council with Eric and tries to advise him to rethink his plan. By swearing the Dora Milaje to him, she also ensures that the best warriors in Wakanda are right there when the first opportunity to legitimately overthrow the guy arises. If W’Kabi hadn’t already been spoiling for the opportunity to do exactly what Eric wants to, then Eric would have had a hell of a time actually getting any of his ideas off the ground. The building coldness between Okoye and W’Kabi over that was really well done too, for all that we don’t actually see them interact about it until their confrontation during the final fight.

 Nakia, meanwhile, is the character who has the clearest vision of both the world and Wakanda throughout the whole story. And it’s driven by emotions, but that doesn’t mean she’s ever acting unreasonably or illogically. She has a big heart, and wants to help people. She sees the problems with Wakanda’s isolationist policies, and wants to end those. But when Eric - someone who ostensibly wants the same thing - takes the throne, she’s not once tempted to follow him. Because his approach isn’t what she wants, and because she loves T’Challa. And that matters.

 In the scene where T’Challa and has father first speak of T’Challa being king, we get one of the iconic lines from the trailer. “You are a good man, and it is hard for a good man to be king.” But while T’Challa is indeed a good man, and does face many hardships as king (like right out of the gate, naturally) that line almost gets burnt to a crisp by the actual character and story developments which follow. The truth, as it becomes revealed, is that good men have troubles primarily because of the immoral choices made by those who let themselves miss the forest for the sake of the trees.

 I mean, fundamentally, we have a story about a whole bunch of characters who… pretty much agree, but just don’t know that they do yet, or want to do different things with their conclusions. Every character offers a nuanced take on the central story, and ultimately, most of them are just trying to serve their people in the way that makes the most sense to them.

 Eric shone the perfect light on the situation, too. Like, they did a really good job of emphasizing that his violence is wrong and bad, while also conveying that Eric himself knows this on some level. When he talks about how many people he killed to get here, there’s a viciousness to it, but there’s also anger at the reality of that. He’s willing to kill people to achieve his goals, because he believes in those goals, and also because this quest has become a symbol he needs to prove. But he’s scarred himself for the lives he’s taken, and in the end when he’s fight-arguing with T’Challa, you can see the hollowness in what he’s told himself about figuring out the enemy’s methods and turning them against them. The truth is, Eric never really had the opportunity to learn any approach that might work and wasn’t violent.

 It’s been a while since I sat down to watch a movie, and actually saw a villain who made part of me go ‘yeah you know what? Let’s just do this, let’s fucking salt and burn the status quo and see what happens’. Ultimately, there are still enough reasons why that would be a bad idea and Eric’s approach would suck (and T’Challa articulates them well) but… there was definitely a part of me that wanted to see the weapons shipments make it out across the border. Even knowing that the concept of ‘let’s conquer everyone for their own good’ has never, in the history of the world, ended well, there’s part of you going ‘well shit, it’s not like Wakanda would do worse’, too.

 Anyways, there’s more to talk about than could easily be managed in one post. The point is, it’s a really good movie with really good characters. Between it and Thor: Ragnarok and Wonder Woman, I am in love with the actually-complex conversations that superhero movies have been having about isolationism and imperialism, and it’s definitely not a coincidence that these movies all take their prevailing creative cues from women and people of colour.

 I like it and I want more.

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 6

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,791 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Also on ff.net and AO3. In which Dick is surprisingly racist towards clones.

Two birds on a wire One says "come on" and the other says "I'm tired" The sky is overcast and I'm sorry One more or one less Nobody's worried

-Regina Spektor, "Two Birds"

Then.

Once their guest had left, Tim turned to Dick with a wounded air.

“How about giving me some warning next time before someone shows up, huh?  A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Dick’s smile didn’t falter.

“What, did she catch you doing something embarrassing?”

Tim skewered him a look of disgust.

“Do you have to make everything sound dirty?”

“Sorry, sorry.  …I’m surprised you’re still doing ‘that’ after all these years though.”

Tim shrugged with a heavy sigh.  “Was just testing to see if I still could, I guess.  I messed up on the landing anyway.”

“You probably just need to work on your form some more.  It has been a while since I last saw you brush up on any techniques, they’re bound to get a bit rusty.  If you want, I can still coach you…”

Tim’s lips tightened.

“Forget it.  It’s not worth it.”

“Are you sure?  That girl seemed pretty impressed by it. She’s the one you were talking about earlier, right?”  Dick nodded in sage observation.  “She’s cute; nice face, decent rack- ow!”  He rubbed his arm as it was abruptly met with an annoyed punch.  “Hey, it was a compliment.”

“…Didn’t sound like one.”

“Would you prefer I said she has a mighty fine ass?”  He waggled his brows and grinned provocatively, despite wincing from the pain.  Kid could still hit pretty hard when he wanted to. “Not as fine as mine though.”

“Shut up before I shove a dumbbell up there.”

Dick clutched his behind in mock dread at the threat.

“Seriously though, she’s obviously into you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The way I see it, from where I’m standing, she’s more into you.”

“Oh ho, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“No,” Tim denied hotly, though his cheeks told a different story.  “It’s just that you’re being super-gross about it.  You know you’re acting like Bruce by coming onto every giddy schoolgirl and her mom who walks in through the door.”

Dick’s smirk jerked slightly.

“Wow, okay dude, we’re really going there.”  It was his turn to be hurt by insensitivity.  “You didn’t need to go that far.  I’ll have you know this and that are completely different.”

“How so?”

“I approach these things from a sole marketing perspective.  Purely professional.  It’s called ‘show business’, bro.”

“Uh-huh.  This coming from the guy who just lied about his scars to make himself look good.  I suppose ‘that’s’ also part of your advertising strategy?”

“Hey, it’s not like it was a total lie.  That really did happen, you know – minus the ‘falling debris’ part.  …Besides, what else would you have me say?”

Tim shook his head, keeping his voice low.  “…I don’t know.”

Dick seized on the telling silence.  “You are attracted to her, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“It’s okay, I can see why. It’s all right to admit these things, you know.  You don’t have to hide it.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

The firm, yet flustered defiance only further confirmed Dick’s suspicion.

“Heh heh, little Timmy’s got a crush~”

He tousled Tim’s hair teasingly, to which the boy scowled.

“I do not.”  He pushed the invading hand away in indignation.  “Will you cut that out already?  I’m not a kid anymore.”

Dick lowered his limb in disappointment.

“Okay, okay.  Sorry.”  Despite insistence otherwise, it delighted Dick that Tim was finally exhibiting some of the youthful desire – if not exuberance – he’d missed out on through his teenage years.  “Trust me though, I have no interest in someone her age.  She’s all yours.”

“Look, will you just drop it?” Tim snapped bluntly.  “It’s none of your freakin’ business.”

Dick exhaled, clicking his tongue.  If only Tim could be more honest with his feelings, true to himself – though he was painfully aware of how excruciatingly difficult that must be, what with everything the boy had been through.  To be fair, he had his own troubles genuinely opening his heart to others, after all the times it had been broken and betrayed before.  …He could only imagine how terrifying it must be for Tim, to allow someone else – a complete and total stranger – to get close by entering into his currently (semi-)stable and secure – if supremely secluded life, experience that kind of risky emotion again. Breach the many walls and defensive barriers he had set up around himself, upset the plainly precarious balance that was still a struggle to barely maintain.  So as much as he wanted to continue coaxing and clowning – kidding around, he agreed to leave it alone for now, raising both palms in admitted defeat.

“Okay, I get it.  I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

The subject successfully dismissed, Tim attuned towards the boxes in the back.

“So did you want me to help with moving this stuff or what?”

“Yeah, I needed to clear out some old things to make space for new equipment.  Trying to tidy up the place more, getting rid of useless junk and whatnot.  …Although most of it’s probably going up to the storeroom in the attic anyway.  Sorry to bother you for this; I’d do all the lifting myself, but with my back…”

“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Tim knelt by one of the cartons as Dick set to work sifting and sorting, organizing according to some arbitrary system that ostensibly only made sense to him.

“Christ, how much crap do you have here?  Seriously, what even is half this junk?  I knew you had all kinds of odd ends lying around, but I didn’t realize it amounted to this much.  Do you ever throw anything away?”

Dick shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a hoarder by nature.  Keeping keepsakes is my hobby.   …Well, more like a habit, I guess.  Why do you think we had a trophy room in the basement?  It wasn’t originally Bruce’s idea, I can tell you that.”

Tim remained quiet as he poked through a large collection of CDs, containing a few recognizable but mostly random titles by various indie bands and artists he’d never heard of.

“Man, you’ve got weird taste in music.”

“Hey, don’t knock the classics.  Those are precious goods, be careful with those.”

In spite of his scoffing, Tim picked up one of the discs that appealed to him, and was almost about to subconsciously slip the item under his oversized hoodie – an old, old habit of his own – before remembering he didn’t have to resort to sneaking or stealing when he could just ask.

“Can I borrow this?”

Dick didn’t even twist to look, implicitly trusting in his little brother’s judgment.  “Yeah sure, go ahead.”

Tim breathed out in relief as he pocketed the prize with permission.  That was a close call.  Borderline kleptomaniac compulsions hadn’t surfaced like that in a long time, but then, it was only another minor checkbox on the extensive, exhaustive list of psychotic symptoms he was suffering from today.

There was another entry that caught his eye, different from the others.  It had no hard case or album cover; just a plain, simple jacket labeled with marker:

For Babs.

Tim wondered if it was a mix tape – surely Dick wouldn’t have tried to record something himself? He couldn’t tell whether it was a gift Dick planned to give but never worked up the courage to – or something Barbara sent back after (one of numerous) breakup(s).

…Maybe Joker was right. Being in love with someone seemed like way more hassle than it was worth.  Hell, just watching those two go back and forth between affection and anger even back then was tiring.  Aggravating.

At any rate, he left burning curiosity alone, not wanting to intrude too much on Dick’s privacy (years ago he would’ve taunted his brother with the juicy bit of exposing bait himself, but that was then, when he was less mature and still found amusement in such things), and moved on to another container.  As soon as he saw the contents inside, he balked a bit, heartbeat spiking.  Aching.  It was a family photo album, full of fond memories from the Flying Graysons’ circus days. His hands trembled as he flipped tentatively through the pages, unable to tear away even though it made him uncomfortable for a number of reasons.  Paranoid of polaroids.  Anything involving camerawork tended to make him queasy, though he could typically tolerate homages to others at least.  These were different from the blown-up, polished posters on the wall though; the images portrayed within were more intimate, unscripted.  Candid, captured moments of a close-knit clan, happy as a clam – treasured remnants of childhood innocence and bliss combined with parental pampering.

“This must have been such a cool place to grow up.”

“…It was.”

Glancing back at the receptacle, buried at the bottom was another set of snapshots: a framed photograph of Dick and Barbara together (him smiling smugly straight at her in puppy-like adoration while she beamed brightly at the viewer instead), and a worn print of the former in graduation garb next to Bruce, who had his paw wrapped proudly on the other’s shoulder.  Scrawled on the top left-hand corner in Bruce’s surprisingly haphazard handwriting was a short congratulatory message:

Good luck at college, Dick.

Tim recalled how Dick told him the story of Bruce missing his graduation from Gotham State University, shortly before the two split up as Batman and Robin.  (…The old man never even bothered to come to his own high school ceremony – not that Tim was expecting him to – although Dick and Barbara both did attend at least, albeit sitting at opposite ends of the auditorium.)

“It was building for a long time.  I realize that now.  …It was never really right.  I mean, this isn’t exactly a normal childhood.”

He hadn’t really comprehended the notion then, but Tim understood now what those words meant – unfortunately all too well.

Tim sensed a shadow behind him, and for a brief instant, he half-envisioned it being Bruce from the way it loomed – but of course when he revolved around it was only Dick instead.

“Yo, you all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  Tim looked down at the scrapbook in his lap, a wistful mist in his eyes.  “I was just… thinking I don’t really have any pictures of my folks.  At least none where we’re all together.”  Or that isn’t a mugshot, he thought sullenly to himself.  “I never saw my dad keep any mementos of Mom after she died.  To be honest, I’m not sure I even still remember what she looks like.”

Dick plopped down on the ground next to him, resting a hand on the boy’s sagged shoulder.

“Listen, I hope you know: No matter what, you can always think of the two of us as family at least. I know I haven’t exactly been that much of a great guardian myself, that I could never replace what you lost either… But you are still a brother to me. Hell, I consider you the closest thing to a real relative I’ve had since then.”

Tim simply nodded, swallowing a lump in his gorge.  Dick patted his back with a thump.

“Us guys, we gotta stick together, right?  Through thick and thin.”

“Yeah.”  Tim ducked his neck towards his collar, surreptitiously drying ducts on his sweatshirt.  “…Thanks, you know, for letting me stay here so long.  Roy and Conner too.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” A pause.  “…How’s Conner doing by the way?”

Tim snorted, the caution in the other’s tone not escaping his notice.  “What do you care?  You never liked him anyway.”

“That’s not true. It’s just… The whole idea of cloning someone kinda wigs me out, okay?  I dunno, imagining there being a duplicate copy of you running around is freaky enough, but one of Superman?  It still doesn’t sit well with me to leave him loose like that, after all the underhanded crap Cadmus has pulled.  Something about it just doesn’t seem right.  Who’s to say he doesn’t have some secret kill switch that’ll make him go rogue like Supergirl’s doppelganger?  Gotham may be full of crazies and creeps, but at least we never really had to deal with stuff of metahuman caliber aside from Ivy and Clayface, or Kirk when he took the serum.”  Dick intentionally didn’t include Killer Croc on the atypical rogues roster; guy was too dumb a criminal to count.  “We’re on the high end of the ‘weird’ scale, sure, but not even Batman’s equipped to take down a serious superpowered menace alone.”

Tim glared at him in disbelief.

“Is that you talking, or the old man?”

“…Maybe a bit of both,” Dick willingly conceded.  “Look, I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“Yeah well, don’t be. I’ve got Mr. Kent on speed-dial, and Kon gave me his full consent to use the Kryptonite at my discretion as part of our ‘roommate agreement’.  If anything happens, he told me himself he wants me to hit him with it as hard as I can.” …Even if it meant killing him – although Tim knew he could never go through with that. Not again. “Besides, it’s not him you’re actually worried about, is it?”

“Tim…”

“No, you know what this is?” Tim clenched his fist, drawing away from contact again.  “You look at him with the same way you do me – like some ticking time bomb about to explode. I’m getting real sick and tired of it.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t.  Look, for your information, Conner’s doing fine. Hell, he pretty much behaves just like you; he’s probably getting wasted and chasing after chicks at some mixer right now.  …That’s what you call a ‘normal college life’, isn’t it?”

Dick cleared his throat, aversely acknowledging hypocrisy.

“…What about you?  How is school going?  Do you like it there?”

Tim shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

“You know you didn’t have to just stick locally around here.  If you wanted to go someplace else I would’ve sponsored you.  I mean, I chose to stay close to Gotham because of that… ‘part-time job’ stuff, but you’re smart, you could’ve gone anywhere better.”

“I told you, I’m fine with this.”

“What about taking that girl’s suggestion at least?  Life doesn’t just have to be about books and studying for tests all the time either, you know.  Look at it this way: You’ve got the time and opportunity now to be a part of after-class club activities that I never had.  Why not take advantage of it, get out there and socialize.  Enjoy the excitement of your youth and all that.”

Tim stared, trying unsuccessfully to read the other’s expression.  He couldn’t deduce whether the dude was just being humorously sarcastic, or genuinely envious and attempting to live vicariously through him.  Either way, he wasn’t falling for it.

“I said forget it.”                                                          

Dick kept pressing despite disengagement, earnest in his endeavor to tempt Tim to pursue what used to fill the boy with fervent passion, desperately hoping to rekindle some kind of joyful spark.

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun.  I bet I could even still teach you to do a quadruple somersault if you’re interested.”

“Why?  I suck at it.”

“You just need more practice.  …Besides, it’d be kind of a shame to let a legacy die out without passing it on to at least one person.”

Tim wavered at the sincere, if somewhat scheming statement.

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me, it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Maybe for you.”  He bitterly bit his tongue under his breath.  “I’d like to see you try to concentrate on keeping your balance with the Joker as a peanut gallery.”

“What was that?”

“…Nothing.”

Dick held his gaze for a second.

“Tim, I didn’t want to bring this up, but… Conner called me the other day.  He told me, about the lab incident.  He says you haven’t been sleeping or eating much either.”

Tim grit his jaw, feeling like a dagger had just been thrust in his gut.  He couldn’t believe his best (perhaps only) bud in the world would betray him like that.

“Damnit, Kon.”

“Don’t blame him, he’s just worried about you too.  I told you: You don’t need to keep hiding things from us.  We’re here to help if you need anything.  Babs too.  If something’s troubling you, you can talk to us.”

“It’s fine, I’m handling it.”

Dick wouldn’t desist, determined to get the truth out of him.

“Tim, I heard you yelling earlier.  …He’s back again, isn’t he?”

The boy sighed in surrender, eyes slanting stage right.  “…To your left, making faces.”

His partner fixed him with stern concern.

“Are you off your meds again?”

“They don’t work.  Not as well as they used to.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just stop taking them.”

“For what?  So I can only experience the side effects?”

“So talk to Leslie.  Ask her to adjust the dosage.”

Tim made a hollow noise.  “I’m already on the highest strength that’s considered ‘safe’ for human consumption.”

Dick pulled out his phone anyway and began dialing her number.

“I’m contacting her.  There must be at least something else we can try.”

“Not Dr. Thompkins,” Tim whined, as if a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Look, either you call to make an appointment, or I will.”

Tim seethed, grinding his teeth.  “All right, fine.  Jeeze. God, you and Barbara still both treat me like a fucking child.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you stop acting like one.”

“Whatever.  Just hand me the phone.  I’ll talk to her.”

Dick extended the cell towards Tim, who took it with all the enthusiasm of accepting a dirty sock.

“It’s ringing.”

He listened closely in on the conversation to confirm a meeting time was set up, before Tim returned the receiver.

“Here.  She wants to talk to you.”

Dick lifted the mobile to his ear.

“Hey, doc.”

“Hello, Richard.  It’s good to hear from you boys.  How’s the back treating you?”

“Fine.”  He didn’t want to dwell too much on his own health status, so he moved on to the matter at hand.  “Is there anything we can do to help Tim?”

“In such a rare and unusual case as this, it’s hard to say.  It’d be beneficial to start by identifying the root of his relapse.  Once we pinpoint that, it’ll be easier to formulate a treatment plan.   It’s possible it could just be due to the stress of moving to a new environment.  It’s good that you’ve been able to help support him through high school, but now that he’s becoming independent it may be triggering a stronger separation anxiety response in him.  Even if consciously he rejects it, the Joker ingrained himself as a parental figure in Tim’s mind.  Essentially, he equates that kind of attention with the nurturing love and protection he never properly received growing up.  It’s common for child victims of abuse to form a disorganized attachment to the caregiver, especially when the caregiver behaves in an inconsistent manner.  The conflict of the caregiver being both a source of comfort and distress can cause the child to display contradictory patterns when faced with a stressful situation; instinct tells him to simultaneously avoid and approach the one who is mistreating him.   In the absence of a familiar atmosphere he’s accustomed to, he’s likely seeking alternate methods of coping as a survival mechanism.  Has he been under any kind of particular pressure lately?”

Dick relayed the events leading up to the fainting spell, with little input from Tim beyond affirmative nods.

“I see.  It’s certainly a sign of progress that he’s trying to face his fears, but a heads-on approach might not be the best tactic.”

“I tried to tell him that.  He won’t listen.”

“I’ll have a chat with him about it when I see him, hopefully we can find a way for him to succeed in his studies without compromising his sense of safety.  One more question, this is important: Has he tried to harm himself?”

“I… don’t think so.  I’ll check, and let you know.”

“Please do.”

As Dick temporarily terminated the exchange, he rotated to see Tim had stood up and was headed towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out for a smoke – walk – whatever.  Just text me when you need me.”

“Hold it.”  The harsh bark arrested the boy before he was halfway to the exit.  “Wrists.”

Tim swiveled with a sour countenance.

“Seriously?  Do we really have to do this?”

“Show me.”

He hissed, but obediently rolled up his sleeves, revealing bare but apparently unmarked skin.

“Satisfied?”

Dick advanced and examined him all over anyway, before nodding.

“All right.  Now empty your pockets.”

Tim tsked, feeling as violated as when the staff at the detention center frisked him on admittance for any concealed contraband.  He dug through his possessions, retrieving objects one by one: phone, wallet, CD player, lighter, cigarettes, and finally – under Dick’s demanding eye – the hidden pocketblade.

“Give me the knife.”

He hesitated.

“Don’t make me wrestle it from you.”

Relinquishing, he slapped the weapon into Dick’s grip without a word.

“Thank you.  You can go, but try to keep near.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Dick deliberately chose to ignore the sardonic retort, used to receiving attitude by now.  (For a fleeting moment, he mused if he ever gave Bruce this much frustration, although no doubt Alfred would certainly attest to it.)

After Tim left, Dick hit redial to reassuringly inform Leslie on the observed lack of self-inflicted damage to the patient’s physical condition at least – and preemptive confiscation of means just to be safe – before bidding goodbye with a final beep.  He sighed as he rubbed his neck, hoping his “tough love” hadn’t come off as too deterring. He really wasn’t good with this whole “parenting” thing, considering the primary role model he had for nearly half of his life after early adolescence.

As he picked up the memoir from the floor, he caressed his fingers feather-light over the cover, brushing off collected dust and disenchantment before delicately placing it on a shelf for easy viewing access.  The rest he unceremoniously dumped in the “to toss” pile, purposefully cramming as much trash as he could on top.  …After a few minutes though he fished them out again, rescuing from the base of the rubbish heap with ambivalent reluctance, restoring to the original package and sealing tightly with tape.  They could remain upstairs for now at least – like his ruined Nightwing costume – evidence of old wounds and shattered bonds shuttered behind closed panel; tucked away in the dark recesses of his conscience, lurking and lingering deep in the shadows off-screen.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire He says that he will But he's just a liar