#because my ED has me in the death grip lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xyliane · 4 years

Text

wild blue yonder

summary: killua had plenty of better ideas for how to spend his eighteenth birthday. a cake a mile high, a day on the town with alluka, maybe even some peace and quiet for once. instead, he’s doing what all zoldycks do: assassination, murder, the works, all at the ass end of the ocean, all because it will tilt the scales of trade just enough in their favor to make a move. he doesn’t have to worry about a blood curse, no matter what his sister says.

notes: think of this less like a fic and more a...preview? I’ve written about 10,000 words of this off and on over the last year or so, and I would love to write more, but [gestures at the world] [pokes at the smoldering remnants of my dissertation]. yeah. so, as special thanks to @trashsketch and @thehuntyhunties, here’s a first draft of the first bit of cursed prince (which, knowing me, will get a wholesale rewrite of the first section at least cuz lol worldbuilding). T (blood and killua’s mouth), pre-killugon; ft: mito, the zoldycks, ikalgo, and did I mention the blood. 4900 words. (title is not the final title, but swiped hastily from the third track of “the horror and the wild”)

notes pt 2: @trashsketch DREW THIS FOR THIS AU aaaaaaa

---

Alluka’s eyes turn black over dinner three weeks before Killua’s eighteenth birthday, and he has to shove half a bread roll into his mouth to avoid making any noise. If he’s lucky, no one else will notice. If Alluka’s lucky, Nanika won’t say anything, will stare at Killua for a few minutes before slipping back into the recesses of his sister’s mind. If they’re both lucky, they can return to their meals and continue ignoring whatever Mom and Illumi are discussing about the southern trade routes, in tones just barely not argumentative. If Killua’s lucky, he won’t have to kill anyone in the next month.

Of course, the Zoldyck family has never owed its success to luck. They have skill, and intelligence, and a massive fortune. They have a town full of merchants and spies at the base of Kukuroo Mountain, centuries of debts of money and life tying the people to the family. They have, Silva Zoldyck is fond of noting, family. And family is paramount.

Even more than that, though, they have Nanika. They have information, dropped right into their minds. All it costs is a bit of death, the risk of death or curse or worse if they don’t do what she suggests. Just that, and Killua’s little sister.

The family thinks it’s worth the price, so they have to deal with it for now. Killua’s his father’s successor to their mountains of gold and death. He’ll change it. He’s promised Alluka.

“Mom, look,” Milluki says. Killua swallows a curse.

A smile stretches across Kikyo Zoldyck’s face, as full of empty pleasure as the black visor stretched over her eyes. “Well. This is convenient.” She turns to Illumi. “Shall we see what to do about our mercantile issues in the South Sea?”

Illumi frowns. “If you must,” he says, and looks expectantly at Killua. “Kil? Take care of it.”

“Alluka’s not an it. And it’s not my turn.”

Mom sighs melodramatically. “Kil,” she says.

“Mom,” he says in the exact same tone.

Father, who’s spent most of dinner silent, snorts a chuckle. When Killua turns to him, he gets a firm nod, bright glimmer in his pale blue eyes. “Go on, Kil,” he says, voice rumbling. “Ask after the block in trade. Best do it now, before the thing in your sibling chooses otherwise.”

Killua nods once, and turns to his sister. She is still staring at him—Nanika is still staring, black eyes blank and a strange little smile on her face.

“Nanika,” he says, voice steady.

Her smile widens. Killua, she says, her voice an echo between his ears. No one else hears. I love Killua.

I love you too, he thinks back, and hopes that she can hear. “Nanika, how do we open up trade in the South Seas to benefit the Kingdom of Padokea?”

“And the Zoldycks,” Milluki says, a sneer in his voice.

“We are Padokea,” Mom says, and sneers right back.

Nevertheless, Killua grits his teeth and adds, “And the Zoldyck family.”

Maybe this time will be different. Maybe she’ll give them a corporation, or an abandoned island full of pirates. Pirates would be fun. Or maybe nothing will happen, and Killua will be able to turn eighteen without being halfway across the world burying a sword into someone’s back. He can take Alluka to town, sneak her out the back while the butlers aren’t looking. It’ll only be for a day, and he’ll be with her.

Nanika opens Alluka’s mouth.

Dammit, is all Killua manages to think, before the vision slams into him.

red

is all he gets at first, and he thinks that maybe this time, he won’t be the center of this vision. Maybe Milluki will get one and have to get off the mountain for the first time all year. Maybe even Illumi will stop hovering, conspicuously leaving profiles of eligible bachelorettes for Mom to coo over and Killua to ignore. But the table turns red and Killua sees

red ocean

red hair green (brown) eyes

red lips

red stains on pale skin

red flower in black (white) hair

red scars on dark stars

red waters overflowing

red death under red sails

red blood

red

red red

red red red red red reD RED

The vision releases him, and Killua barely manages to catch himself before he pitches face-first into the soup. Even after the fact, his senses are swimming in blood, enough that he can practically taste it. One of these days, he’s going to learn how to live with it. The rest of his family does.

“Kil, where are you going?” Illumi asks.

So much for his birthday plans. “Where do you think,” he says.

“Kil,” Mom says again, and he rolls his eyes.

“The ass end of the ocean, I think,” Killua says, and ignores his mother’s affronted gasp as he starts in on the rest of his dinner. It tastes chalky under the blood. “I’ve got a month to kill the queen of Whale Island.”

“Isn’t that the place with the magic storms and the cursed pirates?” Milluki says.

“You can’t use magic to control storms, idiot,” Kalluto mutters, just loud enough for Killua to hear.

“The cost?” Illumi asks.

Killua shrugs. “Blood curse. Nothing new.”

Nanika always exchanges her information for curses. Illumi and Kalluto have messed up before and come back with numb limbs or empty eyes, consequences for having failed within the time limit. But those curses are simpler things. Killua gets the blood curse, every single time.

He loves his sister, and he’s grown to love Nanika, in her own way. But he doesn’t need the extra pressure.

Father claps a hand on Killua’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kil. We will celebrate your birthday when you get home from the ass end of the ocean.”

Mom makes a scandalized noise and Killua smiles, pride radiating out from where Father’s hand rests against his shoulder. It makes him stand taller, almost as tall as Illumi. Never as tall as Silva Zoldyck. No one is that tall.

Behind him, Alluka stirs listlessly, blue eyes foggy. Once Father’s grip lifts from him, Killua reaches over to grab her hand, squeezing in whatever comfort he can. She tries to smile back. No one else notices. “Be careful, Brother,” she mutters. “Blood stains.”

————————————

It takes the better part of three weeks to get to Whale Island. Killua could have taken a cabin in one of the spice merchant’s galleon and been there in half a month. But that would be easy. Zoldycks do their job well, and well doesn’t mean easy. The first ship out of Dentora was only a week, but from there it was a schooner to a sailboat to three days on a blasted fishing dinghy for the last few islands. The sailors had laughed at him when he’d said where he was going. At least the food’s been good, because he’s going to turn eighteen out here in the gods-forgotten nowhere. He’d hate to come home and tell Alluka there had been nothing good out here.

For all that they’re in the middle of nowhere, the Whale Island port is almost impressive. If a place could be valued solely on the number of colors, Whale Island would be the richest port on earth. The ships alone are every shade imaginable, the height of summer trade filling each dock to overflowing. Purple sails from Kakin, greens and yellows from Lukso, the ostentatiously huge gilded galleons out of Yorknew. Even austere blacks and whites from Padokea, sticking out of the rainbow forest like snow-blistered icebergs. It makes him feel like home, almost. He’ll catch one of them off the island as soon as he’s done. Father will make sure they’re fairly compensated for leaving ahead of schedule. And sprinkled throughout are the collection of Whale Island’s mercantile armada, with no set color or design other than a bright circle of orange-gold, open at one end.

The port itself bustles with life, as diverse as the ships in harbor. It lacks the size or height of trade centers on the mainland, or even other islands like Balsa’s landmass-spanning city. But it makes up for it in smells, and shapes, and the honest smiles on merchants’ faces even as they fleece their customers for every extra cent. Out here, there’s no option but the port. They smile at Killua all the same.

Killua’s assassinations usually take a little more finesse—a Zoldyck is a threat, and he’s dyed his hair more than once to vanish into a crowd. But here, Killua’s pale skin and travel-stained dark clothing doesn’t even stick out, so long as he keeps his white hair tucked under a thin hood. No one even looks twice at the sword on his hip or the knives weighing down his boots, not with how everyone else seems to be armed. It’s almost relaxing. He can drift into the forest, kill the queen, and drift back out again, catching a ship out of port before anyone is the wiser.

Maybe this is a pirate nest, and no one thought to tell Killua…?

“Hey, traveler! You come in recently?”

Killua turns and is blasted in the face with the smell of fried fish. Behind a grill covered in pans and fish, a short round man with reddish skin and beady eyes waggles his thick eyebrows, a shock of black beneath a bald head. As he does, his arms dart back and forth between tasks, juggling fire and vegetables and pots as though he has extra arms. It’s kind of hilarious, and Killua doesn’t restrain a laugh.

The man grins back, obviously pleased. “Yeah, not exactly the easiest, getting all the way out here,” he says. “Sit down, look over the grill, tell me what you want.”

“That’s okay, I don’t—” Killua starts to protest, when another man reaches around the cook and drops an assortment of things off the grill and onto a plate. Well, a young man, not much older than Killua, with thick black hair woven back into a single braid trailing halfway down his back. Freckled brown skin is clearly visible beneath an open green vest woven through with gold thread. It would look almost princely, if it weren’t covered in oil and fish guts, and worn almost to the point of being transparent.

The young man hands the plate to Killua with a conspiratorial light in his bright brown eyes. “You should eat,” he says, and his voice is tinged with Whale Island’s rich accent—thick vowels, rolling syllables. It’s musical, in a way Killua wouldn’t have expected.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until the man pushes the plate more insistently at him. Killua shakes his head. He doesn’t want to stay any longer than he has to. He can’t get too close. “I’m not—”

“It’s on the house.”

“It is not!” the chef says, and thwaps the young man across the back of his head with a stack of napkins. “I have a business to run, and the shipping season don’t last all year.”

“Sorry, Ikalgo,” the young man says, an apologetic grin on his face. It doesn’t stop the chef’s rant, loud enough that it attracts the attention of the bread maker next door, who begins to cackle in amusement. The young man does his best to weather the shouting, only occasionally interjecting that he’s been working here for only a few days, that he’ll pay the difference, he promises. But when he catches Killua’s eye, he winks, as though this is all some great game and no one else has caught on yet.

Killua feels his cheeks heat up. Rather than worry about that, he shoves a skewer of fish into his mouth, and then he forgets about the rest because blessed gods that’s good. There’s spice in here he’s never even smelled before, mixed with something sweet that makes it even hotter than it should be.

The chef’s winding down by the time Killua’s finished, his assistant as apologetic as ever. They both notice Killua’s empty plate at the same time. The chef even seems impressed. “This ain’t your first time on the Islands, eh?”

Killua shrugs rather than answer. No wonder Mom is so invested in taking control of this route, if the spices pack this much of a punch. The investors in Padokea are probably salivating at the possibility of owning even a fraction of the trade. “The food’s really good,” he says instead, and the chef lights up.

“Ikalgo’s got the best seafood on Whale Island,” the young man says. “How long are you here for? Palm’s got great pastries, and she’s right next door.”

If the pastries are even close to as good as the fish, Killua might be convinced to stay here forever. But he can’t. This is why Illumi always tells him to never talk to anyone, not more than he needs to. It’s too easy to fall into conversation, to get attached. When his only job is to destroy the lodestone of a city, or a kingdom, or an island, he can’t afford any distractions. Not even cute boys offering him pastries with big brown eyes.

The assistant seems to sense Killua’s hesitation, and his grin dims a little. But before either of them can say anything else, the chef yanks on his thick black braid and snaps, “You still have another three hours here!”

“But Ikalgo—”

“After last time, you owe me!”

“Even Palm didn’t ask,” the young man whines.

“Palm didn’t lose her entire storefront to a flashflood.”

Killua can’t stick around. He grabs his bag, heavy with travel supplies, and turns to face the edges of the market. The trail leads up and away into the jungle. Theoretically, the queen’s mansion should be somewhere up there. But where…

Well, maybe it can’t hurt to ask one more question.

“Do you know who might know where the queen of Whale Island lives?” he asks, not expecting commoners to know the answer.

But the chef and his assistant shrug. “Ask anyone,” the young man says. “Anyone knows.”

“Anyone from the Island knows,” Ikalgo clarifies. “Her house is up at the end of the path, bout forty-five minutes into the jungle. Can’t miss it.”

Killua blinks. “Can anyone…go?”

The young man shrugs again. “Sure. If you wait a bit, I can—”

“What part of three hours do you not understand?”

“But he—”

“I’ll be fine,” Killua says, and nods politely. The chef and his assistant wave goodbye, and go back to bickering. Out of the corner of his eye, Killua can see the chef getting back to food prep, even as the young man grabs plates and napkins for other customers. He should feel bad that this is all going to ruin. Not immediately, sure. But without a ruler, most places fall apart. And if it falls apart, even for a little while, it’s long enough for Padokeans to set up shop, to reclaim the trade routes and caches of power that they want.

Maybe Whale Island will do okay in the end. Or maybe not. It’s not Killua’s problem.

Too bad, though. The food was good.

The queen’s house is indeed right up the road. Killua makes it within sight of the low walls outside the complex before ducking into the trees, not willing to risk a frontal assault on his own. As friendly as the Islanders seem to be, especially the assistant, the amount of armed fighters and sailors could be a problem. Once Killua finds a good rock, too heavy for a normal person to lift, he swaps his traveling clothes for proper Zoldyck gear: black trousers, an armored black jacket, silver-grey gloves. His sword is sheathed against his hip, and his boot knives are supplemented by another blade at the small of his back. He stashes all of his earrings but one, a sapphire stud Alluka had given him for his sixteenth birthday. She’d said it was for luck. But Zoldycks don’t have luck.

Killua keeps it anyways. Maybe he’ll be lucky this time.

Killua wants to finish this quick and quiet, on the small chance that the young man from the fish grill gets off work and comes up the path. By the time the chaos sets, he should be on the ship and halfway out to sea. Even the fastest ships won’t be able to catch him.

He climbs up the back wall, peering into what looks like a vegetable garden behind a modest two-story building. Killua recognizes about half of the herbs—most of them are useful as poisons, and a few are normally grown in the middle of a forest. None of them have any business being behind a queen’s home. Then again, the building would barely qualify as a merchant’s house in many kingdoms, well-constructed as it is. It’s the color of the sky and thatched neatly, signs of old storms and hard winter winds in the occasional cracked paint. The back door is a solid dark wood, and the window on the second floor is open to the sky. There’s no sign of any caretakers or guards, not even footsteps. The only sound is a quiet hum of a woman’s voice, wafting gently down from the open window.

It can’t be this easy. But part of Killua doesn’t mind. At least this time, the only person he’ll have to kill is the one he has to. No lying, no backstabbing.

And he can go home without risking a blood curse, and celebrate his birthday in peace.

He still takes his time sneaking across the garden, boots falling silently as he steps through the shadows of the house. Taking a chance that nothing in this building is locked, he carefully presses open a window on the ground floor and drops into what looks like a large kitchen. A massive slab of wood serves as a table down the center of the room, with a collection of beautifully carved chairs arranged around it. The smell of herbs permeates the whole room, sinking into the wood and floors.

There’s still no one in sight.

There’s still only the woman’s humming filling the air with gentle wordless noise.

It’s too easy. It has to be.

Killua draws his sword as he creeps up the stairs, following the sound of the woman’s voice. He’ll know the queen when he sees her—Nanika’s visions have a habit of sticking, permanently, or at least until the job is done. Like how he knows the humming is the queen, even though he’s never heard her voice before today. How when he peers around the corner, he knows that the queen is the woman humming over a pile of papers. Her bright orange hair is swept back from her forehead, a simple braid circling her head where a ring made of silver and onyx rests on Silva Zoldyck’s.

The humming stops. “You can stop creeping around my house and tell me why you’re here,” the queen says without looking up from her work. “If you want to petition for the Padokean spice merchants to stay another week, you’ll need to take it up with the portmaster.”

Killua doesn’t say anything. His grip on his hilt tightens for a moment, before relaxing.

The queen flips over the page and starts on the next. “Also, no, I am not interested in selling port space, either. Tell your king he can rent like everyone else.”

Killua takes a final step into the doorway, and lunges, his sword lightning fast.

But the queen whirls, nearly as fast as Killua, and catches his strike on a short wavy blade of her own. Her snarl sparks with furious challenge. “And if you’re here to kill me,” she says, “you’d better try harder than that.”

Killua bounces back, narrowly avoiding the sweep of her knife. The queen is unarmored, but holds the blade at her side, other arm lifted in well-practiced defense. Rather than wait for Killua to strike again, she darts forward, bare fist blurring in a fury as she tries to strike Killua’s solar plexus. But Killua is faster, and he catches her strike on his forearm, brushing it aside. She snarls even as she stumbles back, leaving herself open for Killua to strike again. This time, when she catches his blade on her knife, she almost doesn’t make it, only barely managing to slide out from beneath Killua’s strike. But her bare foot lashes out, catching him on the knee, and he feels the joint crumple.

She scoffs. “You’re not the first person to try to assassinate me,” she says. “Tell me who sent you, and I’ll send you home.”

Killua responds by punching her in the stomach with his hilted fist.

To the queen’s credit, she keeps her knife up, enough that she manages to slash him across his forearm. The wavy blade cuts deep and sharp right through his jacket, leaving behind a wide erratic slice. Killua ignores the pain and raises his blade.

She glares up at him furiously, bright brown eyes wide and not scared at all. They look familiar. In fact, they look like—

They look like the young man from the market.

The chef, his assistant, everyone else, is going to lose their queen.

Don’t get attached, Illumi commands in the back of his head, and Killua shakes the hesitation out of his limbs just in time to block the queen’s jab right at his heart. He catches her wrist with his bare hand, wrenching it out of place until she can’t hold on anymore. The wavy knife goes clattering away across the floorboards, out of sight and out of reach.

She kicks him in the side again, shit, and Killua throws her to the ground. The back of her head thuds against the wood floor, and she crumples with a pained noise, trying and failing to get back up again.

If Killua moves now, he’ll kill her.

This time, he won’t miss.

The queen starts to move, and Killua brings the blade down in a single brutal strike.

Blood always smells the same—metallic and warm, life draining out in flows of red. Killua hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes when he struck, but he feels the splash of blood across his face, sinking through the open slice on his sleeve and through the skin of his gloves. Messy. Father would be disappointed. It’s better if it’s quick, and clean, and no one fights back, and no one is gasping shakily on the floor—

He opens his eyes.

The queen lies at his feet, still alive. She has a hazy, almost drunken grin on her face, and her arm is still raised from where it connected with Killua’s sword, blood flowing freely from its stump. Her dismembered hand lies just out of reach. And she’s laughing.

“You should have killed me,” she says. A gust of wind blows up from the ocean, curling around her, almost as wild as her eyes. Outside, a massive storm darkens the sky, clouds near-black and crackling with energy. The air tastes of lightning, and thunder, and danger, and sudden fear jolts down Killua’s spine.

What had Milluki said? Cursed storms and magic pirates?

Killua’s eyes widen. “What—”

“I said,” the queen says, and her voice reverberates in the stormwall. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

She lifts her hand and spits a word, and a wind like a hand bellows up the stairs and throws Killua out the window.

He lands heavily in the garden, nostrils filling with herbs, bouncing once and hitting the building’s wall. At least the ground’s soft. But he dropped his sword somewhere between the second story and the dirt, and he does not have time to look for it before the storm hits. It whirls around the sky, a cyclone of pitch-black clouds centered right over the house. If Killua didn’t know any better, he’d say that it was only on the house, dropping almost to the ground as though trapping him in the eye of a storm.

He clamors over the wall, bad knee jolting with pain and a little voice screaming at him to run, just in time for a wall of rain to come crashing down between him and the jungle.

Stepping out of the rain, as though made from stormclouds and landslides, is the young man from the seafood shop. But instead of a stack of plates, he holds a brutally sharp sabre, blade short and thick and slightly curved up from its guard.

He takes in Killua, waterlogged and covered in blood, and his bright brown eyes go wide. “You’re—” he starts, and then his expression narrows with fury. “It would have been easier if you’d tried to kill me in town.”

“Why would I do that?” Killua says. “I’m only here for the queen, not an assistant fish fry.”

The young man grins with all of his teeth, any amusement from earlier washed away by unrestrained anger. “I’m Gon Freecss,” he says. “You tried to kill my mom.”

He’s the prince. In about the stupidest response Killua could have, he tries to rub some of the queen’s blood out of his eyes. But it doesn’t budge. If anything, the rain is making it worse, seeping into his face and clothes in a bright red tattoo, making his skin crawl.

Blood curse, Nanika had promised. It was always a blood curse.

Shit shit shit gods fucking shit. For all Killua knew, the blood was going to kill him from the inside out.

“I don’t care about who’s next in line,” he says, and takes half a step towards the storm wall. He had to get out, had to get home, or else—

“You should care,” the prince of Whale Island says. “Because if you’d killed me first, the storm wouldn’t have come for you.”

Killua barely has time to draw his knives before Freecss is on him.

Maybe it’s the panic worming its way out of Killua’s stomach, or the sharp pain in his knee, or the blood curse scratching at his face. Maybe it’s the resolute fury in Freecss’s eyes. Either way, the prince moves nearly as fast as Killua, hacking at the assassin with brutal short slashes. Killua manages to block all of them, barely, boots slipping in the torrential mud. The prince is good enough to make Killua work if he was in good condition, and between the rain and the blood and the knee, they’re all but equally matched.

Killua finally blocks a blow and shoves Freecss back, the prince leaving himself open. Killua presses his advantage in height and speed by kneeing the other man in the chest. Freecss coughs out a pained curse, and he tumbles back, mud covering his skin and his long braid. Killua follows, slashing out half-blind with his knives, and he feels his blades connect as the prince bounces away. Another splash of blood, this time on a bare hand. This time, Killua feels it sink in, painting his pale skin the color of rust.

Freecss has a slash on his cheek and shoulder, Killua’s wild strike having gotten him on bare skin. The weight of the blade also caught the prince’s braid, which droops tangled and waterlogged across his brown face, half-covering his eyes. Freecss curses again, something foul, and simply slices his sword through his hair. The rest of his braid lands in the mud with a heavy thump.

The prince wipes a streak of blood off his face, not seeming to care that the wound continues to flow freely. “I’m going to kill you,” he says, voice low as thunder.

Killua has fought soldiers and mercenaries and assassins, from the weakest to the most skilled. He’s been tired, fought for hours in the snow and sleet, wherever Father has asked. He’s fought with half the bones in his hand broken, with his legs immobilized by ice. But then, he’d been ready. He’d known what to expect. He hadn’t been fighting a storm at the same time he was fighting a prince. Freecss presses ceaselessly, forcing Killua back until his foot hits the wall around the queen’s home. The prince’s home. He can’t go any further back.

The prince’s eyes glint in the storm, and he slashes the sabre across Killua’s front.

And Killua’s leg slips out from under him.

The mud carries him stumbling out of range of the prince’s slash, but also costs him one of his knives. Killua staggers to his feet, trying in vain to rub the blood off his face. All he gets is mud, and rain, and more blood. A callous on his hand must have ripped in the fight.

Oh. And his jacket is cut open across his front. Distantly, he can feel blood dribbling down his chest, starting at the shoulder and cutting towards his side. That should hurt more than it does. Even his leg doesn’t hurt so much anymore, a dull throb beneath the rain.

He’s tired.

Freecss snarls—just like his aunt, a small part of Killua notices—and slices the sabre straight down through the air.

Static gathers in the air, bright and sharp, and Killua realizes he’s going to die.

“Sorry, Alluka,” he says. The words are lost under the wind and rain.

Then Killua is struck by lightning.

And everything is white.

86 notes · View notes

farmerlan · 4 years

Text

Farmer Lan’s Rewatch Guide to The Untamed - Episode 2

SPOILER CAUTION APPLIES.

Alright buds we are going to get right into it - no time to waste!

[WWX hangs out by a river/well with XPG (Little Apple aka Xiao Ping Guo aka XPG from now on), cultivator scene with the demon compass argument happens (cute), A-Yan gives WWX an apple and she’s clearly not mentally all there, mountain top A-Yan dance scene with her mom disclosing her tragic story and father’s death to WWX.]

Differences from the novel:

There’s some minor choronological and setting differences between here and Chapter 6. A-Yan was not the person who gave WWX the apple, it was a random girl. There were two separate scenes with cultivators trying to use the compass in the novel, but it was condensed into one in the drama.

WWX bumps into A-Yan in the town at the foot of DFS and hears of her story from townspeople. A-Yan’s story is essentially the same in both versions, but the novel also includes an additional story about how a slovenly/good-for-nothing oaf became seemingly wealthy and suddenly wanted to get married and settle down, except he died on the night of the wedding. This would later be used by WWX to further support his narrative of what’s behind the ‘soulless people’ cases when he explains it to the Gusu disciples.

[Cut to WWX in a forest, A WILD JIN LING APPEARS! Man, I forgot what a little shit he was when he first arrived <3. WWX and JL runs into each other, except JL thinks he is MXY, banter ensues, WWX traps JL with his paper man and drops that awful YOUR MOM line to JL.

Banter continues until JC brings his posse and incredibly sharp jawline to the scene. Seriously, damn. Things are about to get physical before LWJ arrives. Shade is thrown between JC and Gusu & Co., JC literally looks like he is in pain and why oh why does nothing ever work out for him as his subordinate reports that all the spirit nets have been destroyed. JC decides against picking a fight and tells JL he better BRING HIS A GAME TO THE HUNT before dismissing him. LWJ dismisses the rest of the disciples and walks away, leaving WWX alone. Cut to WWX remembering JC + JYL by the river and then he overhears JL’s true parentage and feels baaaaaaad man.]

In the novel, there is further discussion of the LLJ sect and especially JGS in Chapter 7. Seeing JL’s reaction to him as MXY, WWX then correctly deduces that MXY is actually the illegitimate son of none other than JGS, who was known for his philandering ways.

It was also clarified in the novel that locked within the ‘paper man’ WWX sic-ed on JL was the ghost of a man who had died from gluttony, hence why JL could not get up. He was basically being sat on by a really fat man.

A bigger deal is made in the novel of how LWJ is someone who “appears where there is trouble” – JL says this to him in a sarcastic way, but it’s a common theme that runs throughout the novel, that although he can be considered an extremely prominent figure, he takes the time to help or show up no matter how ‘low level’ the situation is. It’s a sign of his strong moral character that nothing is too beneath his attention.

The situation of the night hunt itself is also explained a little bit more in detail – JL is turning sixteen this year, and this night hunt at DFS is basically a debutante ball for him as you have to be past a certain age to participate in hunts. So, in order to make sure he claims the top prize, JC made sure to come with him and also set up the spirit nets. Aww, they ruined his present!

Fun fact: JC very nearly came to blows with LWJ in the novel but chose not to do so because a) he had to consider sect relations between Gusu and Yunmeng and b) he wasn’t sure he would win since they’ve never fought before. HA.

[Gusu disciples run into old man grave caretaker, these are Wen graves! He asks them to go visit the Tiannu Temple and they move on before he can tell them that the goddess statue moooves. Spoopy. WWX also happens upon the Wen graves. Scene between him and WQ and he realizes it’s the statue stirring shit and JL is about to step in the shit that has been stirred.

Scene in the temple with Gusu disciples and JL, shit starts going down, WWX and Gusu disciples gather outside. Gusu disciples realize they ran out of flares and WWX is all like haha prepare to be punished! WWX clarifies the difference between soul-eaters and the goddess status, links it to the ongoing issues with A-Yan. LJY calls him out – he’s only pretending to be CRAZY! ]

There’s no old grave caretaker in the novel and there’s no Wen graves scene. There are ancient tombs around the area that the Gusu disciples explored, but it was only mentioned in passing as part of the larger conversation around what exactly was plaguing the mountain. What happens in the novel is – WWX encounters a spirit dressed in fancy burial clothes, realizes something is wrong because that kind of spirit (the spirit of a corpse) should not be on DFS, puts two and two together and goes off to find JL.

The scenario of WWX explaining what exactly ‘it’ is to the Gusu disciples closely follows that of the novel, except he also adds the explanation around the slovenly oaf’s story. Basically, oaf prays to the goddess statue to be wealthy, the goddess granted him his wish but took away his soul on the night of the marriage. Hence why WWX encountered the wealthy corpse spirit - essentially the goddess split open his grave and gave the oaf the funeral/afterlife offerings that were buried within it, displacing the spirit in the process.

Also the goddess statue ate some humans in the novel but this was probably too graphic for the drama lol.

[JL shows up with the statue hot on his heels, WWX is like but wait we sealed the statue off before! WWX then builds and plays a makeshift bamboo flute. LJY changes his mind – MXY is still crazy after all, and on top of that he’s also a garbage flute player, ha. WN shows up and WWX is all ???, illusion is revealed, WWX posits whoever did this wanted lure out WN, a mysterious man in black scuttles off in the background.

Men rush WN, WN is like, uhm, y’all ain’t shit. WWX then plays WangXian to suppress WN’s rage, draws him towards himself and then we have THE REUNION – eyes meet, lovey-dovey wrist-gripping scene ensues.]

Interestingly, the drama shows JL being thrown to the ground and trying to scurry away/flinching as the statue advanced on him. In the novel, he actually stood right within reach and thought, “If I can’t kill her right here and now, I’ll die – but so what?!” Basically, he was 100% ready to kill the statue or die trying before WN showed up.

In the drama, we weren’t specifically clued in to the fact that WN is currently unconscious due to the nails in his head. In the novel, WWX realizes this instantly because Wen Ning was not capable of sentient thought and had to rely on WWX’s orders.

The drama hints that the whole thing was staged by the mysterious man in black caught scampering away – in the novel, this is not the case. There was no other person ‘operating behind the scenes’, this whole incident with the statue was not an illusion.

The reunion scene is as it happens in the novel, gripping of wrists and all. Ha. I love you directors.

[WWX is outed as the person who summoned WN and JC is like well well well, Shady’s back. LWJ tries to protect WWX, WWX tries to run away but gets whipped and decides to play crazy as JC wonders why Zidian didn’t work.

WWX appears to faint and wishes to go back to the time to 16 years ago, when he was at Lotus Pier and we start our flashback arc. Cute scene where he gets a sugar rabbit (HA I see you) for JYL. They decide to rest in a tavern. JC bickers with WWX and grouses that JYL and JFM always defends him and is reminded that being free-spirited is considered a virtue by the YMJ sect.]

The confrontation between JC, WWX and LWJ follows the novel partly (the whipping, the face-off between JC and LWJ), but the novel goes into more detail.

For one, LJY is like, ‘wait didn’t YOU kill WWX? Why are you saying he’s back?’ to JC in the drama. In the novel, no one claims that JC was the one who killed WWX in the novel – only that he was present at the battle at Nightless City along with the Yunmeng Jiang sect.

Also, in the novel, someone in JC’s sect basically tells says that there’s no way MXY is WWX because WWX would have chosen someone cooler. WWX was flirtatious with girls and a good-looking dude and MXY is a gay lunatic riding a donkey. And also, his flute skills are so, so subpar compared to WWX. Ha. WWX secretly grouses that he would kneel to anyone who’s able to play a nice melody on a dollar-store flute after not having practiced for 13 years. Touché.

In an attempt to get both JC and LWJ off his case, WWX tries to disgust the both of them by going, “JC is NOT my type but you know who is my type? LWJ uwu he’s so attractive” but it totally fails because LWJ does not take the bait. Instead, he says “Well then, I’m taking this man back to the Lan sect with me.” And that’s the end of Chapter 10. See comments on the flashback/timeskip in the summary section below.

The last conversation JC and JYL shares is very interesting. It’s not in the novel, but it really plays into the narrative that “WWX embodies more of Yunmeng Jiang’s values than JC even though he is not a Jiang”, which is also a theme in the novel and kind of a sticking point for JC obviously. One can say that JC takes after his mom, and WWX takes more after JFM.

Overall Thoughts

This is where the divergence from the novel plot line begins to get a little more serious. The novel employs a series of flashbacks scattered throughout the book whereas the drama is essentially one long flashback from Episode 2 through Episode 33. It obviously makes more narrative sense to arrange it that way in a drama series in order to make it less confusing, especially since they’re using the same actors for past and present WWX/LWJ, but just keep that in mind.

With that said, I will stop at Chapter 10 for the purpose of comparing it to Episode 2. Chapter 11 and 12 have essentially both been removed from the drama besides for the cold springs scene, which was also modified. I will discuss these two chapters when we get to Episode 33 (wow, will we ever get there??). Episode 3 picks up at Chapter 13, which is the beginning of the Gusu arc. Chapters will start jumping around (in the novel, the Gusu arc is only Chapters 13-18, and then the Wen Sect/Tortoise of Slaughter is a separate flashback from Chapters 51-59) so I am going to try my best to match them up lol.

Ending the summary on another cute note, in the novel LWJ’s presence is often described as being accompanied by the light scent of sandalwood, which is what WWX smelled before bumping into him in the novel.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #wei wuxian #the untamed #episode 2 #cql #魔道祖师 #recap

15 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 5 years

Text

alright now that i’ve finally seen both fullmetal animes here’s my compare & contrast

spoiler warnings!!!!!

2003 does this better:

better soundtrack. brotherhood’s ost is SUPERB but 2003 still wins. it’s iconic and historic

wack-ass ending aside 03 is MUCH cleaner and more self-contained. brotherhood zooms out a lot and takes a bigger look at the world than 03. that’s not to say one is better than the other, but something i like about the 03 anime is that a lot of minor characters came back in the end when they deviated from the manga. everyone was connected somehow

like ok in 03, winry’s parents were actually murdered by mustang, and the homunculi were created by regular old alchemists - i think little plot stuff like that is what i mean by “self-contained” - everything is so weighty and it matters so much and there’s nothing that isn’t important in the end

similarly, 03 has really good character development...brotherhood has a lot to accomplish in a short time, so the pacing is much faster and more oriented towards action where 03 has time to really slow down and dig into everything...we got a much longer time to get to know characters like nina and maes and marta/martel and even yoki

03 is a lot darker i think both thematically and literally as in they used darker shading which is like...obviously everyone has their own tastes but i really enjoy it

hohenheim, scar, lust, and envy all get like 10000x more character development in 03...in fact, almost all the homunculi save for bradley get more development, 03 is very definitely character based. i like 03 hohenheim a LOT better actually and i think his rocky relationship with ed gets more closure in 03, even with 03′s wack-ass ending

03 did a better job of exploring the fallout of having to do really and truly horrible things during wartime...it’s talked about a fair amount in brotherhood, but in 03, the weight of those sins is made much more tangible and horrifying

03 had better voice acting. sorrryyyyy but some of the new guys they got for brotherhood (to replace scar, marcoh, and breda, most notably) just aren’t as good! i did like the new al though in spite of myself

brotherhood does this better:

brotherhood actually knows what the fuck it’s doing as far as plot goes and the ending was cool and satisfying

since brotherhood does take that zoomed out view of the world we got to learn a lot more about it, which was really cool

some brotherhood-only characters are dope as hell. specifically the characters from xing but i also really loved general armstrong, brotherhood’s pride, & kimblee’s ex-men

brotherhood has more WOMEN. not that 03 is a slouch in that department but brotherhood is even better

while brotherhood didn’t do as well showing us the fallout of committing atrocities in war i DO think it did a better job exploring what it means to be marked by committing a taboo - how that changes you forever - in a way that 03 just didn’t quite reach

while i love 03′s darker look, brotherhood’s animation style is like...really so much easier on the eyes it’s GORGEOUS and i like the brotherhood openings better too. sometimes i had trouble skipping them bc they are so good and i just wanted to watch ‘em over & over. that plus the fact that it’s not a square (we didn’t all have widescreen TVs in 2003 lol) is like...a big bonus

brotherhood is just plain cooler in a lot of ways - the creatures are cooler (envy’s true form?? PRIDE?? HELLO??), the environments are more diverse (xerxes! briggs! amazing!), the FIGHT and ACTION SCENES (roy vs lust, greed vs wrath, SCAR USING ******* AGAINST WRATH), and lots of the action has nice little twists, such as al sitting in the dark with pride, or the briggs soldiers freezing sloth in the blizzard...yeah brotherhood has less character development but the action scenes are absolutely gripping. sometimes i forget how much i love a good fight scene when they’re actually choreographed well & brotherhood reminded me

brotherhood is scarier because the stakes are higher. the main villain in 03 had much smaller ambitions than the main villain in brotherhood. granted, i think dante is a cooler and more fun villain than father, but he’s definitely much scarier. dante wants to kill a lot of people. father wants to kill ALL of them. father can disable ur alchemy. father can force mustang thru the ******

brotherhood is a LOT funnier. i was surprisedd at how often i actually laughed out loud. this is a result of 03 being more angsty in general i think

brotherhood has no nazis. zero of them.

brotherhood DIDN’T KILL IZUMI CURTIS in fact i don’t think there’s a single character death in brotherhood that i disagree with which is REALLY rare for me. there were a couple in 03 that i thought were dumb and stupid

anyway, this concludes my comparison. neither is necessarily better than the other, they’re just Different, & i really love both of them

#personal #fma blogging #long post

8 notes · View notes

coeurvrai · 5 years

Text

Okay, so Nadya is trying to do the whole fake blood magic thing but it isn’t working out for her that well. She can’t multitask fast enough to be efficient.

She raked bloody claws of ice over a spell book page, realizing seconds later it hadn’t been blank. Panic slammed into her chest.

Good job there, Nadya, you really need to get better eyesight or just make more of an effort to look lol

The flow of power she channeled shifted and became something dark.

This power was not hers to use. It wasn’t hers at all.

She had no word for it but wrong. It was the only word running through her head. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

Seething and black and powerful—so powerful—and in a different way than her magic was powerful because where hers was clarity this was madness.

This writing needs clarity, and by clarity I mean more commas and more editing. Especially that last sentence. ED seems to have quite a problem with run on sentences in her writing.

There was something else, too. A needling that Nadya realized was a spell Felicíja was attempting to cast on her, but it felt so weak by comparison that she barely noticed. Felicíja tried again, and again, tearing out page after page, but her spells were only glimmers, bare brushes of magic against Nadya and this power that tore through her, threatening to rip her apart.

Blood dripped down her nose. She had to get rid of the magic. The taste of copper bloomed in her mouth. She spat, pressing a hand against her chest because her heartbeat felt erratic.

She exhaled and let go of the magic. It shot out from her fingertips like bolts of lightning. One struck Felicíja, the crack of thunder reverberating through the arena. The girl went down.

Of course Felicíja is no match for Nadya and the Force Power She Has Awakened.

Also the wording in the second paragraph is entirely awkward. Like “blood dripped down her nose”? I’m assuming she’s supposed to be saying that Nadya has a nosebleed, but that gives me an image of an entirely different thing.

Same with “the taste of copper bloomed in her mouth”, like fucking how? Did she bite her tongue or the inside of her cheek or something? Did the blood just appear out of nowhere inside her mouth?

Also “because her heartbeat felt erratic” needs to be reworded, it sounds clunky and could be written better.

Anyways, Felicíja gets Force Lightning’d, which doesn’t sound fun at all. But it’s okay! She’s fine! It’s just a flesh wound!

For a tense second, Nadya was sure she’d killed her. Instantaneously. But the girl got back up, a szitelka in her hand and fury warping her face. Blood dripped from a wound in her side and was smeared across her face.

Gods, please stay down. Nadya grimaced. Echoes of the darkness rattled in her head. She drew her own blades.

She blocked Felicíja’s strike, catching her blade on the hilt of the other girl’s szitelka and using the leverage to pull her closer. She lashed out with her second blade but Felicíja twisted out of the way.

What the bloody hell is a szitelka?! You can’t just throw a new Fantasy Russian term/weapon at us and expect us to know what it is, ED. That’s not how things work! We don’t even get a brief aside, like we did in the early chapters, so we can get an idea of what to imagine.

Also what?! lmao

“Blood dripped from a wound in her side and was smeared across her face” That wording makes it sound like somehow, the blood from the wound on her side/torso somehow got on her face or that she put it there herself. Or that she’s bleeding on the side of her face and she’s smeared that blood across her face.

I’m going to assume that she has been wounded on one side of her torso but she ALSO has unrelated blood on her face, for the sake of my own sanity.

Also that “instantaneously” after “she’d killed her” is so unnecessary, get it out of here. I would also like to add that this action isn’t even close to be riveting and I have no vested interest in what is happening right now. I mean, I know Nadya won’t die or get seriously injured so, I mean, why the fuck should I care? lmao

Recovering, Nadya twisted the hilt of her blade and yanked down. The szitelka was pulled from Felicíja’s grasp and she staggered forward. Nadya caught the girl underneath her chin with her foot, snapping her head back and knocking her off her feet.

As the girl moved to rise, Nadya slammed the szitelka onto her hand, pinning her to the dirt.

Everything was too quiet. Too aware of the audience, Nadya hesitated, her other szitelka loose in her grip.

I don’t want to kill her.

Firstly, Felicíja doesn’t even cry out in pain or whatever after Nadya just stabbed her hand with an ambiguously-shaped blade? I know that blood mages are used to some level of pain, considering they cut themselves on a daily basis to perform magic, but what? Or is that supposed to be an indication that Felicíja has a high pain tolerance?

Secondly, WHAT?! She’s a Tranavian blood mage, you want them all to die and to repent for their “abominable”, “heretical” ways! You hate them all! You literally just participated in this duel because she insulted you and you retaliated! Like congratulations on not wanting to murder a person, but I literally can’t take this as character development because it came out of nowhere!

Like she kills a handful of nameless, inconsequential Tranavian soldiers and is totally fine with it and is like “It’s my destiny as the Chosen One of Marzenya, Goddess of Death and Sacrifice” but every other time she has the opportunity to murder she’s like “nah” while still stating that she wants to murder them?!

I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this but ED, Nadya Lapteva is not Manon Blackbeak, Ironteeth witch and murderous anti-heroine of my heart. This is not how character development works! There’s no lead up to this! Nadya hasn’t been questioning or doubting her own views, she’s been doubling down on ‘em!

You can’t tell me that Nadya doesn’t want to kill Felicíja when her whole shtick is being a bigot and xenophobic and willing to execute her Gods’ “cleansing” of Tranavia, without really any true moves to become more empathetic or understanding of Tranavia and its people and society and culture! You can’t!

Felicíja lifted herself up on her arm, glaring at Nadya. She didn’t deserve to die here, with an audience, like an animal. And Nadya wasn’t going to be the reason for her death. She wasn’t going to perpetuate this Tranavian bloodlust.

It would be so easy, though, and it would further Nadya’s mission. All it would take would be another icy claw into the girl’s heart, or a stronger jolt of lightning. But the darkness lingered and Nadya feared what would happen if she pulled on it.

WHY DO YOU CARE?! Why in the actual fuck DO YOU CARE?!

You’ve shown absolutely zero fucks or sympathy before and you even called this whole thing a “game” and a “trivial affair”! Your divine mission, stated several times, is to kill Tranavians and win the war and force the Gods back onto Tranavia so they can rule it again. Like why the fuck do you care! Just kill her!

The excuse I’m guessing is supposed to be the stupid “inner darkness” that Nadya has from accidentally doing blood magic, which I just like... whatever. I still maintain that Nadya should be going through with it and murdering Felicíja.

I hate that there will be no consequences for this too, that Marzenya isn’t going to punish her for not killing Tranavians when she had the chance nor are the other gods going to really care. Fuck, I hate it so much. This is all so fucking unearned and infuriating.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Nadya said.

She was expecting relief, but what she received was a wad of spit that landed on her mask.

“Pathetic,” the girl said, pain slurring her speech.

Felicíja and I are in agreement on this one. You’re a pathetic shambles of a fucking protagonist who doesn’t live up to what the author says you’re supposed to be NOR do you live up to what you and the book says you’re supposed to be.

#sarah reads ws #self harm tw #blood tw

4 notes · View notes

littlehollyleaf · 6 years

Text

GOTHAM S05E04 “Ruin”

okay listen I know other stuff happened in this episode and it was even stuff I enjoyed and was interested in (like - WTF jeremiah??!) but I don’t have time to talk about any of that when there is SO.MUCH.FOXMA.AWESOMENESS to squee over (and you can’t say I didn’t warn you)

fyi - I’ve incorporated MULTIPLE VISUAL AIDS to assist in my flail!

let’s start by going through my FOXMA WISHLIST because there is WAY MORE to check off it that I thought possible in one hit!

Touching - bonus points if it’s beyond practical, like Foxy resting a hand on Eddie’s arm to offer comfort or Eddie gripping Foxy to emotionally steady himself

they flunked on the bonus points but still, FUCKING CHECK!

and you know what? I’m awarding A WHOLE SET OF DIFFERENT BONUS POINTS for Luscious Lucius Fucking ‘down boy I’m in charge’ Fox fucking MANHANDLING ED LIKE IT’S NOTHING because it’s EVERYTHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED IN MY LIFE and didn’t even think to put on the list omgomg!

like... I’ve seen a TON of fic and fanart with Foxy being physically dominant with Ed and I do think it makes all the sense characterisation-wise, but for some reason I’d never properly envisioned/embraced it as part of their ship/dynamic (perhaps because in my one and only fic I had Eddie being more dominating when it came to physical stuff due to various contextual reasons... or maybe because we’ve never actually seen Foxy get physical with anyone in canon before, aside from wacking Alvarez with that chair that time, after which he looked frazzled as opposed to the glorious calm and in control he is here so it didn’t really convey his ability to be so.... UNF. while physically taking charge... idk)

(god I could watch this gif all day honestly....)

(it’s the way Foxy doesn’t hesitate, he’s just - BAM! I’m in control now)

(and juxtapositioned with Eddie’s epic flailing so they are just so perfectly, beautifully opposed)

(then the way Eddie, on seeing it’s Foxy, JUST.FUCKING.TAKES.IT, his fear and flailing dropping all at once as he submits and just holds himself all still and expectant under the hold, clearly THRILLED it’s Foxy who’s found him)

(and Foxy is only using his GODDAMN FINGERTIPS FOR FUCKS SAKE, so firm and commanding with so little effort I just - *fans self*)

(shit we’re only on point one and I’ve spent forever - strap in everyone!)

Speaking in tandem - ie. figuring out the same thing simultaneously and excitedly shouting out the answer together

Actually the talking in tandem one is really important to me so I’m adding it again

Okay the talking in tandem doesn’t have to be them figuring out the same thing, it could just be them reacting the same way to something and discovering they are like-minded

FUCKING CHECK!! The one thing I WANTED THE MOST, SO MUCH I PUT IT ON MY LIST THREE WHOLE TIMES. FUCKING CHECK??! ALREADY??!

Lucius: Unless whatever ignited those heated oil tanks - Together: - smashed through that window

(guys pls though look at the above travesty, I only have MSPaint, for the love of god someone gif this??)

I really can’t... there aren’t words for how ecstatic I am about this!

I was watching with my good friend @enchantersnight, who will attest that I squealed and grabbed her in excitement (which she took with good grace considering she didn’t even know about The List, so must have thought I was just being a mad woman for no reason :p)

And the way they both wave their hand at the window together. And Foxy’s little satisfied nod because he’s not thinking of Ed as a criminal in that moment, all he’s thinking is ‘fuck yeah we just cracked it.’ And they both turn their heads all synchronised because they are so perfectly on the same wavelength, so completely lost in solving the mystery, the parts of themselves that match are so beautifully ALIGNED!

Showing how they are similar people in many ways - check and check!

Foxy telling Ed he is a genius and pleading with him to use his intellect for the greater good

K, we’re not all the way there, but HALF A CHECK, because -

Plus he explicitly said he needed Ed’s ‘expertise.’ All of which amounts to acknowledging (and appreciating!) Ed’s genius, so -! *hearts eyes*

(this set covers it perfectly XD)

...and there is still time for Foxy to plead with Ed to use his genius for good *crosses fingers*

Eddie calling Foxy ‘Lucius’ just the once as part of a serious, emotionally charged moment

Not really what I was going for (I was thinking more Ed yelling his name out of fear for Foxy, or as a desperate plea for Foxy to help him), but A+ for effort for Eddie’s wild yell for ‘Lucius’ here -

Because I love the fact that Eddie was so caught up in working the case at this point that he wanted to keep helping even without personal incentive :)

(aside: Eddie you bad bad bad man killing that innocent old lady though, that was really NOT NECESSARY, pls! ...but it was also somewhat hilarious, in a black comedy kind of way :p

see - THAT’S the level of villainy/immorality I’m happy for Eddie to exist in, killing/torturing/maiming individuals, even innocent ones, yes, cool, because Eddie IS NOT A GOOD PERSON... but... not killing hundreds of innocents, including CHILDREN, in one hit, that’s... that’s a different kind of villainy, you know?)

One/either thinking the other is dead and being relieved to learn they are alive

Again, not quite. But Foxy does comment in the filing room that he thought Ed was dead. No, he doesn’t show any kind of relief that Eddie ISN’T, but since it’s now canon that Foxy somehow learnt of Ed’s supposed demise this opens up avenues for plenty of headcanons :)

Because - WHEN did Foxy hear that Ed was dead? and HOW? and even WHY? Was he ACTIVELY LOOKING for news on Ed because he personally WANTED TO KNOW? Did it MATTER to Foxy if Ed was alive or dead? Did he feel a pang of sorrow/regret on hearing the news at the fate of a man he saw potential in to be better and wished that somehow Ed’s life could have been different?

(look, Occam’s Razor suggests Jim was probably looking for news on Lee and heard back that both she and Eddie died in the Narrows and THAT’S how Foxy heard about Ed’s death, but SSSSHHHH - I’m gonna imagine Foxy was making quiet enquiries for himself and no-one can stop me!)

PHEW!

We made it to the end of the points on my Wishlist that got fulfilled.

KUDOS SHOW

Now - let’s talk about THE OTHER STUFF that was amazing!

Like -

Lucius RELEASING ED and HOLDING HIM IN PLACE JUST BY POINTING A FINGER AT HIM LIKE FUUUUCK!

And again there’s no fucking hesitation. The SHEER CONFIDENCE Foxy has that he CAN AND WILL exert this much power over Ed just. Wow. Just wow.

...there’s something interesting to make of this maybe actually...because Foxy...wasn’t this...commanding, with Ed before. No he was never intimidated, but during the whole riddle crime spree and the confrontation with Harvey on the stairwell Foxy was... nervous around Ed? Like Ed was a live wire or dangerous animal, someone Foxy found a little UNPREDICTABLE and thus was less firm and more pleading with? But NOW...

okay, the stakes are different here ofc - before there were lives on the line and Foxy’s interaction with Ed was the one thing that could save them, so that pressure would have made him hesitant to try and take control...

yeah, that’s it isn’t it - Ed needs a viable threat in order to exert power/control over Foxy (and anyone really)

but without that threat the balance of power absolutely lies with Foxy (so obviously here, with Eddie unarmed and in such a state of disarray! but was also true in that scene with them at the GCPD lab when Eddie was investigating the Red Hood Gang)

Then also EDDIE’S.FUCKING.SMILE!!

Anyone else displaying this much power over him, exposing his vulnerability, his ‘inadequacies’ (so Eddie might see it), would surely make Eddie furious, scared even perhaps - he might rail against them, scowl, try to fight or run.

But here with Foxy he just FUCKING SMILES. He is so GODDAMN HAPPY to have been caught by FOXY. He doesn’t try to fight or escape because HE WANTS TO HAVE A MOMENT WITH FOXY, he WANTS TO BANTER. Because, dare I say, he LIKES BEING IN FOXY’S POWER??

Likewise when Foxy busts out the blackmail THIS is Eddie’s reaction

THIS -

Just look at him he’s FUCKING DELIGHTED that Foxy has been smart enough to immediately suss out Ed’s desire for the file is something he can exploit.

And then the way he kinda gleefully tries to figure out what Foxy could possibly want from him - I ADORE IT.

Because it’s become a GAME to Eddie now ofc - he and Foxy playing off each other.

And it’s a delicious blend of Foxy being all controlling and also flippant in the way he talks to Ed, thus him gently leading Ed into taking it this way, and also Eddie’s clear respect and personal interest in Foxy making him inclined to put a positive spin on the situation, to find it enjoyable. And like... it doesn’t feel esp planned or manipulative on Foxy’s part? Their reactions to each other just feel... genuine? Obviously Foxy IS trying to convince Ed to help him but... the way he speaks to him and looks at him... it just feels like Foxy being NATURAL with Ed to me? Like, he’s not spending all the time carefully choosing his words and behaviour, calculating what he needs to do to win Ed over, he’s just... going with the flow? Reacting to Ed... in the way he WANTS to, and Ed is doing the same?

Sure they’ve both got end goals they want to achieve, but during their banter those almost seem secondary, just for moment, to the mutual enjoyment they are getting from their interaction?

And yes, mutual - look at this and tell me Foxy isn’t having fun as well!

Other great things about this scene -

Eddie calling Foxy ‘the second smartest man in Gotham’ <3 <3 Absolute proof he respects Foxy’s intellect :D

Eddie trying to surprise grab the file from Foxy’s hands. Because LOL. Foxy’s dry ‘...why?’ and shake of his head at Eddie’s childish antics totally makes it! Plus the way Eddie makes one last half-hearted grab before his eventual ‘fine.’

@vampirebillionaire pointed out it’s kinda crazy Eddie was able to physically capture a Street Demon thug, but can’t muster enough strength to yank a file from a scientist :p

I like your suggestion, Daisy, that this adds to the ‘mind controlled Eddie’ theory - ie. when Eddie is under the influence he becomes more physically capable perhaps.

May I also suggest another possibility - that the file grab was just for show? Because Eddie desperately WANTS to team up with Foxy for a bit. But he has to convince himself it is absolutely his ONLY OPTION in order to do so? Because Eddie is a confused and repressed and psychologically mixed up prawn and can’t accept just wanting to work with Foxy just because. Plus a blackmail scenario/game has already been established. So to Eddie’s mind the only way that makes sense for him to work with Foxy in this moment is for Foxy’s blackmail to hold up. Meaning before Eddie can agree he has to establish that he CANNOT get the file by other means? Hence all the huffing and puffing and extra lunge at the end - it’s all him adding to the pretence?

...idk it’s prob too involved for what the show was actually going for, but it crossed my mind :p Felt like ‘Riddler logic’ you know? And involves a bit of theatrics, and Eddie lying to himself...

Anyway, the other PHENOMENAL THING about this scene -

I am given and I am taken,

I was there from your first breath

and I will follow you until your death

You know, that riddle for ‘name’ that clever fandom people cleverly extracted from the voice over line in that dramatic pre-S05 promo? (’I will follow you until your death’) The one that lots of us were taken by because of the vague, possible nygmobblepot associations? (and some of us, ahem, one of us, even used to title a fic), but that was also suspected to be a possible exchange between Ed and a hallucinatory version of himself - maybe being about how the name and/or persona of ‘Riddler’ has been with Ed all along and will be part of him until he dies.

WELL TURNS OUT EDDIE SAYS THAT RIDDLE TO FOXY CAN YOU BELIEVE??

I mean, look, I know it’s just a riddle for plot purposes. But that doesn’t change the fact that Eddie, CANONICALLY, stands there, INCHES from Foxy -

STARING DEEPLY INTO HIS EYES, voice slightly whispery and husky

and he tells him

I WILL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOUR DEATH

I Just -

And they fucking end liKE THIS GUYS -

Literally POINTING AT FOXY LIKE HE’S MAKING A PROMISE?? (and oh shit I just thought is he pointing at Foxy’s HEART?? ...also does this technically fit my bonus point for touching? hotdamn)

And look at Foxy’s smile! Yeah it’s mocking but... maybe in a FOND way??

All - ‘name, the answer’s ‘name’ Ed, but you had to make a song and dance out of it didn’t you, you dork?’

*dreamy sigh*

Other stuff -

Eddie investigating the crime scene and working it all out was some GENUINE PI RIDDLER SHIT right there *swoon*

I love the way Foxy just steps back and lets Ed get on with it. I flail over Eddie showing his respect for Foxy, but there was real respect in Foxy for Ed here, which was beautiful <3

On the rooftop - *hearts* over Eddie genuinely praising Foxy for figuring out it was the exact spot of the shooting from angles etc, showing he CLEARLY rates Foxy’s intelligence very high :) Only for Foxy to admit that he worked it out because he noticed the weapon’s casing had been left behind :p (which - SLOPPY of blacked out Ed now I think about it?). That was both a fun gag, lightly highlighting how Eddie sometimes misses the obvious and reaches for the most complex option when a much simpler one is on hand (making his advice to Oswald way back when about how sometimes the simpler solution is best really just... lolz... take your own advice Eddie, pls), as well as, I think, maybe hinting that Eddie really may be SMARTER than Foxy on a purely intellectual level - because it was potentially suggesting that Foxy could ONLY tell it was the right place because of the weapon case and might not have been able, at least as fast, to have worked out the angles etc like Eddie did. Maybe...

Eddie telling Foxy in complete seriousness that he hopes Foxy finds the criminal and makes them pay - playing out just like I hoped in the tags over here after seeing the Eddie preview clip of the episode, yes win!

(#holly you're an idiot going to the gcpd is how ed is gonna team up with foxy it's an excellent plan!!! #...I bet that 'make them pay' line in the trailer fits here #ed is talking about helping foxy found the haven bomber and how they should make them pay #but ~plot twist Eddie - it was you!! #yus I like that #pls be true!)

aside: Foxy now has that weapon case and is going to see if it has clues as to the perpetrator - Eddie thinks it won’t but I wonder... while blacked out Eddie left himself a message... I wonder if it’s possible he may have left the weapon case on purpose in the HOPE that he will be found out? that someone will catch him and put a stop to him being mind controlled??

...in any case, this opens up the possibility of Foxy finding out the shooter was Ed and OMG I HAVE ~HOPES AND DREAMS ABOUT THAT

In my hopes and dreams Foxy simply DOES.NOT.BELIEVE that Eddie would/could have committed such a crime, at least not willingly. And especially since Ed literally helped him solve the crime and he saw and heard Ed be GENUINELY affected by the crime enough to want the criminal to pay - and yes, sure, Ed could have been playing him and faking that, getting a kick out of giving Foxy clues to his own crime, but Foxy just feels sure Ed was being honest on that rooftop, that he really didn’t seem to know he was responsible, and it convinces Foxy there is something much more sinister going on here...

*CROSSES FINGERS TIGHT*

(omg - we know Babs gets Eddie at some point... WHAT IF Foxy ends up trying to save Eddie from her??! UGH IT’S TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN BUT WHAT A DREAM! Foxy could even go to Oswald maybe to get help saving Ed, maybe providing evidence that Ed is in fact innocent... and in doing so he frees Ozzie from any personal anguish he might be suffering due to believing that Eddie really did commit the crime perhaps? even less likely, but I’m gonna roll with it for now :p)

Right one last thing. I did also have on my wishlist a proviso of the ‘talking in tandem’ thing -

When they talk in tandem they have to finish smiling at each other

Obviously this didn’t happen (POINTS DEDUCTED!!).

But then, we did get THIS as their final moment so ALL IS FORGIVEN -

In conclusion

I am dead

Gotham?

(here’s hoping for the remainder of the Wishlist in their next episode together! :p)

#gotham spoilers #gotham: ruin #foxma #lucius fox #edward nygma #the riddler #guys it's 5am I've ~LITERALLY spent ~ALL NIGHT SQUEEING OVER THESE TWO #I am dead #I am a ghost #I am an idiot #I'm a dead idiot ghost #if it's not foxma related don't even speak to me right now :p

13 notes · View notes

resbang-bookclub · 8 years

Text

AMA Transcript: Nothing Compares 2 U

@makapedia joined the AMA party to talk with us about her 2016 Resbang, Nothing Compares 2 U! Here’s some of what went down!!

Q: You wrote a good chunk of your fic set in the nineties. Was there anything that was especially hard about that?

makapedia: Writing the fic in the 90s was hard, if just because I was six when the 90s ended, so I did not remember as much as I thought I would, so I had to research a little history.

Q: What inspired you to think of this premise/AU?

makapedia: I thiiink I was talking to Madi? And spitballing ideas, as I do, at her, and it just spiralled from there. She enabled me hard.

Q: I did love your 90s references though. You mentioned some stuff and I would have flashbacks. It was all good.

makapedia: I didn't even get to write the scene I had originally envisioned for the AU, that's so weird. I wanted more Tamagotchi scenes. I wanted Maka to leave her precious child Tamagotchi in Soul's hands and he was going to take his job as caretaker Very Seriously while she was homeworking.

Q: [This] fic was an emotional ride and so empathetically written and incredibly nuanced. What was the most emotional thing for you to write? What would you do to cheer yourself up after a difficult scene?

makapedia: The most emotional thing for me to write was definitely, um, towards the end of the first portion of the fic? I gave Soul and Maka both parts of myself in this fic, and Soul really got the raw, late teens anxiety and fear of the world and his future, and it was both easy? and hard? for me to write, especially since it was through Maka's eyes, and I could not come out and say "hey, he is depressed and unmedicated and on a downward spiral" because she just didn't understand it. I would listen to Spice Girls to cheer myself up, though.

Q: Your approach to sexuality and to mental illness is amazing and hit me in the feels. Pls discuss any extra commentary youve ever wanted to discuss on these elements of your writing.

makapedia: I don't think I even went into this thinking it was going to have such commentary on sexuality? Uh, and especially the drama/throne we put sexuality on as a culture. I think the fic really evolved that way? And I think definitely even adding as much asexual commentary in it was extra. The mental illness thing was definitely planned and I wanted to make a point of showing someone who does struggle with depression/anxiety/other taking his life into his hands and getting help and still being able, as an adult, to have relations and be happy, and be a good partner. I wish I could have shown more of that at the end, but it is what it is.

Q: What is your personal favorite scene to write, or just based on how it turned out, or whatever!

makapedia: My favorite scene to write?? Maybe was towards the end, I had a lot of fun writing spiteful angry Maka kicking in the men's bathroom door and scaring the shit out of Soul. But based on how the scene turned out, i think the smut smut scene was my favorite. It was a Long fic, longer than I anticipated or planned it being, so a lot of it just melts together in my head now.

Q: Smut scenes, how do those go?

makapedia: LOL. Are you asking me how to write smut?

Q: Yes.

makapedia: I love you so much. I am Disgustingly Demisexual and super vanilla about things, and a lot of my smut focuses more on the feeling and gross headspace than the physical part? It's easier for me that way. I am a tiny ace virgin I am terrible with smut, I have people Fooled.

Q: Pls elaborate on your Very Important Decision to give Soul Batman sheets.

makapedia: Every cool guy I have in my life really aggressively loves Batman. That was it. He seemed appropriately Edgy (or False Edgy, w/e) for Soul.

Q: I really loved your characterization of the parents in this story - both Soul's and Maka's. Did you find one set of parents easier to write and if so, why??

makapedia: Oh man. I mean, they were there but also weren't, yeah? Only Soul's dad and Maka's mom made the cut, and Maka's mom is always a mixed bag for me because we do know very little about her in canon, whereas Soul's parents are always an empty canvas, for the most part. All I know about Maka's mom is she dumped Spirit for cheating and she is "like a bear" according to Maka loool so I guess I just kind of made her a very opinionated force of nature, sort of looming over and leading Maka's future, but she's hard for me to write. I could do whatever with Soul's dad and no one could tell me I was wrong. Too much power for one girl.

Q: Was there a specific 90s artifact you wanted to include that didn't make the cut?

makapedia: Black*Star in JNCO jeans.

Q: Where did the inspiration for the Liz jealousy side plot come from? Because that KILLED me lmao.

makapedia: The Liz thing was planned but also not to the degree it ended up happening? Mostly I wanted to write about Maka's insecurity, and work through her misogyny and jealousy issues and I thought it'd be interesting to have it be a close friend, I guess? But then it evolved into Soul questioning his identity in the background and coming to terms with like, realizing he was ace? Also I wanted Maka to be weird and uncomfortable and maybe even a little jealous later, when Liz had invited him to her wedding, but some of that got lost in translation.

Q: The entire leadup to and all of the Halloween party was a gift, where did the inspiration from that come from? (Soul alone with weiner dogs, bless.)

makapedia: I really, really wanted to write Maka as baby spice and it just snowballed from there. SHE WANTED TO BE SPORTY SPICE SO BADLY. Soul is me. Hides in the back room at a party and chills with tiny dogs.

Q: Why the 90s?

makapedia: I think it was because of my own nostalgia? And also feeling like I missed out on all of the turn of the century weirdness, because I WAS so young when the 90s ended and the 2000s began. It was like a time period AU but not drastic enough for me to have to really change everything and research language and clothing and trends and culture. It was recent enough but also like... long enough ago for other people my age or a little older to be like oh, man, remember the 90s, why did we all part our hair like that? The fic really did start out very silly in my heart but then everything got dark and sad.

Q: I was gonna ask, where did this idea come from? Did something really spur it on, other than your 90s nostalgia? Was the time gap thing always there? Cause the way you entered in the future and had a good portion of the story in the past was excellent and gripped my attention.

makapedia: So, originally when I was blarging to Madi about a 90s au I think I realized it couldn't just be memes, it needed a plot? And I'd always really wanted to write like a post breakup fic where the ship Gets Back Together at a wedding and then bam kablam. The "outline" for the fic is just bare bones for the fic and then some jokes I wanted to get in. Originally I'd wanted the chapters to go back and forth, 98 to 08 and such, but I ended up settling with a big 98 portion so it felt more cohesive. Pluuus I kind of like how it sets you up to hurt and then you wade through the beginning cute with just, this sense of oh god, no, what goes wrong?

Q: I loved the character dynamics between everybody everything felt very fitting like 'yep that is so how they would be.'

makapedia: ;__; I'm so glad. Bro*Star's frosted tips.

Q: I wanted to kill him when he did the freaking card trade thing.

makapedia: LOL that boy has no tact. That cloyster joke was in the outline.

Q: Did you have any characters that you sat there going 'okay what to do with you' or were all the characters falling into place nicely from your perspective? Was Black*Star's gutter mind easy to fall into or not? XD

makapedia: hhhaaaAAA, Death the Kid was mysteriously Not There in the 90s. SORRY, KIDDO. Black*Star is so easy and fun to write, but I think I'd write 90s skater DTK.

Q: Oh well, [Kid] got to make the best reference of the whole fic lol.

makapedia: He did, he got my favorite line. I think he spoke one line and it was my favorite. 70k for an I Write Sins Not Tragedies reference. The slow realization that that album came out in 2006 and therefore Existed was the best.

Q: On a scale of one to 10, how excited were you when you realized this?

makapedia: 10. 11. That joke got me through writing the last chapter.

Q: Was there a scene in particular that went a really different direction than what you expected?

makapedia: So I don't plot ahead like... as often as i should, hhhhhhaaa. So for a lot of the middle I just hit cruise control and went wherever it took me. But a lot of the stuff about virginity and like, terrible sex ed and worrying that it would hurt a ton and she'd bleed definitely weren't things I thought I'd write. I did not intend for the First Time (tm) scene to happen then and there but then... surprise dongle! Dicks out for the ship's swan song.

Q: What song did you listen to the most while writing this?

Q: Linger by The Cranberries, I think. A big Mood. And You Oughta Know, for appropriate Anger. Aaand Nothing Compares 2 U, of course. Tho I do wonder how many younger fandom bebs don't.... know that is a song title reference.

Q: What was your favourite part of the fic?

makapedia: I think... maybe the Halloween party, because Maka is such an unreliable narrator in this fic and she is so Clueless (haaaaaa, jokes) and it was the moment she Finally realized what Liz was trying to do. Also the moment where Soul realizes too was fun.

Q: Did you intend to write Liz as the actual soma fandom or was that accidental? (Complete with our adoration of Tsubaki.)

makapedia: LOL It was a little intentional, I guess, because she was Soul's close friend in the fic. But like, Maka misunderstanding everything just kept getting worse so it was a bit accidental. God I love Tsubaki. Liz has good taste. I don't super ship it a whole lot but I still wanted to try my hand at it. I wanted them to be happy and cute.

Q: What about your LEAST favorite scene!

makapedia: The breakup scene was hard for me to write and I'm still not happy with how it came out. It still feels forced in my heart, but I had to move on.

Q: WHAT'S NEXT?

makapedia: Iiiiii already have an idea of what I'm gonna do for Resbang next year so I cannot share that, buuuut I think I'm going to continue writing Not Lovers, weird mermaid AU I started recently? and probably more AUs. This is the year I write Too Many SoMa AUs, mark my words.

Q: Okay so Soul and Liz doing the do sort of killed my heart. Was that always planned?

makapedia: Hhhhaaaa that was planned ahead of time, I guess? I wanted Maka's jealousy to have some sort of basis. This tiny demi thing who can't wrap her head around sleeping with someone like that.

Q: It broke my heart but I found it so... realistic? Like I totally know people who've experienced that, and lots of people don't have their first time with their soulmate or true love or whatev so like it HURT but also... so, so true.

makapedia: Exactly, that was what I was going for. <3 Aaaand pushing my ace agenda, lol.

Q: Correct me if I read the thing wrong, but crona got adopted by Sid and Nygus??

makapedia: Iiiii do not remember. LOL, HECK. PLEASE.... HOLD.... /FRANTICALLY GOOGLES OWN FIC. YES. OKAY. Good I was like, I think I wrote that??? But then I haven't read that part in so long. I feel like people so often just throw Stein and Marie into the role of Crona's parents and I think I wanted to mix it up.

Q: I just... Crona living with Black☆Star had me in tears.

makapedia: Also that, exactly. You can bet your butt that weenie was probably Crona's dog, but Black*Star is the one who dressed it in a costume. I also had fun writing Soul and Crona bonding over Pokemon. Nerd shit. Soul, excitedly: did you hear they're making a video game? Maka is not as well versed in Pokemon as these nerds. Soul's probably laying there in that room with the weenie playing Tetris.

Q: That visual is gold.

makapedia: I also wanted to write Black*Star taking out Soul's ankles with a Skip-It. But alas.

---

Thanks again to makapedia for stoppin’ in!! More transcripts to come, stay tuned ~

#AMA transcripts #resbang book club #rbbc #resbang

13 notes · View notes

luluuu-blog · 5 years

Text

P.Jaisini-smiles-GIG-NYC2015

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 BY STELLY RIESLING Featured below is another original art work of mine in homage to THE PIONEER OF INVISIBLE ART — PAUL JAISINI. Forget all the copycats that came after him — Master Paul Jaisini was the *FIRST* of a totally original concept and the *BEST*. My favorite thing about him is that he’s a voice, not an echo, which is quite rare. DISCLAIMER: This is for anyone who is a hater OR wishes to better understand me, what I’m all about, so you can decide whether I’m weird or normal enough for you — a kind of very loose manifesto, rushed and unrevised, full of raw uncut emotion that I don’t like to be evident in my writing as lately I prefer a more professional, formal style, so we can consider this a rough draft of the more polished writing to come when I have extra time. I might return to this text later and clean it up or break it into separate parts. Right now it’s a long-winded hot mess, so if you manage to make any sense of it, BIG PROPS TO YOU. lol …and if you manage to read it ALL, you have my solemn respect!!! in a day when reading has been reduced to just catchy headliners and short captions of images once in a while. The consequence of this one-liner internet culture is non-linear, tunnel thinking, which is baaaaaad. There lives among us a most enigmatic and charismatic creature named Paul Jaisini who led me into the wonderful world of art, not personally, but through descriptions of his artworks in essays written and published online by his friend, which painted the most fascinating images in my mind. Early on as a kiddo, I experimented with photography, simple point and shoot whatever looked attractive to me. Digital manipulation of my photographs with computer software followed… and somehow I learned useful drawing techniques along the way to combine existing elements with nonexistent ones, which allowed me to elevate the context for my ideas. Later, I started creating my own digital art from scratch for my friends and family as a favorite pastime. They would shower me with praise and repeatedly encouraged me to share my “different” vision with the rest of the world… it took a while and wasn’t easy to overcome the insecurity of not being good enough along with a gripping fear of being harshly criticized, but one day I woman-ed up and started publishing my work on the web, reminding myself that my livelihood didn’t depend on a positive reception. Paul Jaisini’s role in all this has been to not disgrace myself, even if what I do is just a hobby. And I would never do him and other genius artists the disservice of calling myself a professional because I know I’ll never be as good as any of the GIANTS of pre-modern history. Be the best or be nothing, no middle ground. People’s jealousy in the past, future and present over my obsessive love of Paul Jaisini, which they are well aware is purely plutonic, has caused them to despise the man and has made many relationships/friendships impossible for me. I refuse to have such people in my life because by harboring any negativity towards Paul, they unknowingly feel that way about me and express it to me. It’s their own problem for not realizing this. Paul’s new art movement, Gleitzeit, shaped me into the allegedly awesome girl I am today, giving my art more edge, more “sexy” because it refined my vision of the world and propelled me to attain the skills necessary to not dishonor my family name through tenacious pursuit of perfection. Since the beginning of my life, I attempted to depict what I saw in visual, musical and literal forms, but continuously failed without adequate training and determination. Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit was the answer to my prayers. Who I am today I owe mostly to him and his selfless ideals of the artverse that I’ve given unconditional loyalty to (he has this cool ability for hyper-vision to see whole universes, not itty bitty worlds, hence I call it an artverse instead of art world, with him in mind). So again, anyone who hates Paul Jaisini hates ME because, regardless of what he means to you, he is the most important person in my life for making me ME. The way a famous actor, dancer or singer inspires others to act, dance or sing, Paul inspired me to become a better artist, better writer, better everything. More people would understand if he was a household name because they’re wired to in society. But we’re inspiring each other all the time in our own little communities without being famous, so if someone has the ability to change even ONE person’s life immensely with creativity, it is a massive achievement. And passionate folks like myself are compelled to scream it from the cyber rooftops. So here I am. It’s whatever. Furthermore, I’d like to address here a few pressing matters in light of some recent drama brought on by both strangers and former friends. To start, I never judge the passions, interests or likes of others, which are often in my face all over the place, so likewise they have no right to judge any of mine. It is quite unfortunate and frustrating how very little understanding and education the majority of people have or want to have. Their logic is as primitive as a chipmunk when it comes to promotion of fine art on the web: “spamming, advertising, report!” It’s their own problem that they fail to understand what it’s about due to the distorted lens through which they see the world or inability to think for themselves; an inherent lack of perception or inquisitiveness. Well, guess what? Every single image, every animation, every video, every post dedicated to Mr. Paul Jaisini and “Gleitziet” (to elaborate: a revolutionary new art movement Paul founded with his partner in crime and personal friend, EYKG, who discovered him and believed in him more than anyone) has an important purpose. Every one of those things you run across is a piece of a puzzle, a move in a game, an inch down a rabbit hole; the deeper you go, the more interesting it gets; the more levels you pass, the more clues unfold, the greater the suspense and nearer the conclusion (yet further). You earn awesome rewards like enlightenment, spiritual revelations, truths, knowledge, wisdom and the most profound reward of all: the drive to improve yourself to the absolute maximum, so an unending, unshakable drive. People often make a wrong turn in this cyber game and go back a few levels or get stuck. Those that keep on pushing, however, will come to find the effort has been worth it. And what awaits you in the end of it all? The greatest challenge to beating the game: YOUR OWN MIND. You will be forced to let go of every belief you held before you had reached the last level, to completely alter your mindset and perception of the world, of life, of yourself. But by the time you’ve gotten to that point, it will be as easy as falling off a cliff! (It is a kind of suicide after all — death and rebirth of spirit.) Paul Jaisini does NOT, *I repeat* does NOT use mystery and obscurity to his advantage as a clever marketing ploy, no, he’s too next level for that with a consciousness so rich, he should wear a radioactive warning sign (he’ll melt your brain, best wear a tinfoil hat in his presence as I certainly would.) The statement he makes is loud and clear, hidden in plain site for those who take the time to connect the dots and have enough curiosity to fuel their journey into unknown territory (an open mind and flexible perception helps a lot). Actually, anyone with an IQ above 90 is sure to figure it out sooner or later. Hint: You don’t have to SEE an extraordinary thing with your eyes to know it exists, to understand it and realize its greatness — you can only feel it in your bone marrow, your spinal fluid, your heart and soul. The moment you do figure it out, as the skeleton key of the human soul, it will unlock the greatness and massive potential buried deep within, changing the doomed direction humanity is undoubtedly headed. I don’t speak in riddles, I speak in a clear direct way that intelligent humans will understand, so I’m counting on them. GIG is an international group of artists and writers that support Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit. We started off as an unofficial fan club of Jaisini in 1996, comprised of only 6 individuals spanning 3 countries, and eventually escalated in status to an official fan group across the entire globe. A decade later it had grown to hundreds of fans. Nearly another decade later, there are thousands. Let’s not leave out another delightful group of vicious haters that have been around for nearly as long as us since the late 90s and have also grown in impressive numbers. Now, for the record (and please write this one down because I’m sick of repeating myself), Paul Jaisini himself is not part of our group and has nothing to do with us. He loves and hates us equally for butchering his name and making him appear as a narcissistic nut-job in his own words. He casts hexes on us for the blinding flash we layer over the art that members contribute to GIG — “disgusting-police-lights, seizure-inducing-laser-lightshow, bourgeois-myspace-effects retarded-raver shit” in Paul’s words. Ahh, how we love his sweet-talking us. In a desperate attempt to please him, those among us who make the art and animations have spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to solve a crazy-complex quantum-physics type of equation = how to not create tacky or tasteless content. He does fancy some of it now, we got better, that’s something! In the reason stated below, our mission just got out of hand at some point. What little is known about Paul Jaisini, even in all this time, is he’s a horrible perfectionist who slaughtered hundreds of innocent babies — I mean — artworks of remarkable beauty created by his own right hand (mostly paintings, some watercolors and drawings). He’s a fierce recluse who wants nothing to do with anyone or anything in life. But those few of us who know of an incredible talent he possesses (one could go as far as calling it a superpower), could not allow him to live his life without the recognition he FUCKING DESERVES more than any artist out there living today and, arguably, yesterday. We use whatever means necessary to reach more people, lots of flash and razzle-dazzle to lure them into our sinister trap of a higher awareness. Mwahaha! The visual boom you’ve witnessed in both cyber and real worlds, that is GIG’s doing — two damn decades of spreading an art virus — IVA. InVisibleArtitis… or a drug as in Intravenous Art. It’s whatever you want it to be, honey. Our Gleitzeit International Group (GIG) started off innocently enough and gradually spiraled out of control to fight the haters, annoying the hell out of them as much as humanly possible. They don’t like what we do? WE DO MORE AND MORE OF IT. But never without purpose, without a carefully executed plan in mind collectively. If we have to tolerate an endless tidal wave of everyone’s vomit — e.g., idiotic memes and comics; dumbed-down one-liner quotes; selfies; so-called “art photography” passed through one-click app filters; mindless scribbles or random splatters by regular folks who have the nerve to call themselves serious/pro artists; primitive images of pets, babies, landscapes, random objects, etc… then people sure as shit are gonna tolerate what we put out, our animated and non-animated visual art designed for our beloved master, Paul Jaisini, who has shown us the light, the right path to follow, taught us great things and done so much for us — and so in our appreciation of him, we stamp his name on everything, for the sacrifices he has made in the name of art, to save our art verse, he’s a goddamn hero. There’s a book being written in his dedication where little will be left to the imagination about him. If Paul Jaisini was as famous as Koons or Hirst, for example, people would know it’s not him posting stuff online with his name on it but fans creating fanart like myself among others. But noooooo, such a thing is unfathomable to most people – the promotion of another artist. Like, what’s in it for us? Uhh, nothing?? This is all NON-PROFIT bitches, the way art should be. It’s a passion FIRST, a commodity/commercial product/marketable item LAST and least. Its been that way for us since the early 90s to this day. Not a single member of GIG has sold an art work (neither has Paul Jaisini who’s a true professional) and we want to keep it that way. We do it for reasons far beyond ego. So advertising? Really? How the hell do you advertise or sell thin air, you know, invisible paintings, invisible anything? Ha ha, very funny indeed. The idea here is so simple, your neighbor’s dog can grasp it. Our motives: replace fast food for the mind with fine art, actual fine art. You know, creativity? Conscious thought? Talent? Skill? Knowledge? All that good stuff rolled into one to bring viewers more than a momentary ooohand aaahh reaction. Replace the recycled images ad nauseum; repetitious, worn-out ideas; disposable, gimmicky, money-driven fast art for simpletons. Stick with the highest of ideals and save the whole bloody planet. Fine art is often confused with craft-making. This often creates bad blood between classically trained artists who put out paintings that leave a lasting impression, that make strong conversation pieces, that are thought-provoking and deep… and trained craftspeople whose skills are adequate to create decorative pieces for homely environments — landscapes, still lifes, animals, pretty fairies, common things of fantasy, and other simplicity. Skills alone are not enough for high art, you need a vision, a purpose, the ability to tell a story with every stroke of your brush that will both fascinate and terrify the viewers, arousing powerful emotions, illuminating. I have yet to see a visible painting in my generation that does anything at all for me, other than evoke sheer outrage and disgust. What a terrible waste of space and valuable resources it all is. Paul Jaisini leads, we follow. He wishes to remain unknown – so do most of us. I’m next in line, slipping into recluse mode, no longer wanting to attach my face, my human image to my art stuff. I wish to be a nameless, faceless artist as well, invisible like P.J., and in his footsteps I too have destroyed thousands of my own artistic photography and digital art made with tedious, labor-intensive handwork. The whole point of this destruction is achieving the finest results possible by letting go of the imperfect, purging it on a regular basis, to make way for the perfect. I love what I do so it doesn’t matter, I know I’ll keep producing as much as I’m discarding, keeping the balance. Hoarding is an enemy of progress, especially the digital kind as there’s absolutely no limit to it. It’s like carrying a load of bricks on your back you’ll never use or need. The watering down of creativity that digital pack ratting has caused as observed over the years is most tragic. For the creative individual, relying on terabytes of stock photos or OSFAP as I call them (Once Size Fits All Photos) instead of making your own as you used to when you had no choice, being 100% original, is a splinter in the conscience. It’s not evil to use stock of, say, things you don’t have access to (outer space, deep sea, Antarctica, etc.), but many digital artists I know today can’t take their own shot of a pencil ‘cause they “ain’t got no time for that!” How did they have time before? Did time get so compressed in only a decade? Ohhhhh, and the edits, textures, filters, plug-ins and what-have-you available out there to everyone and their cats… are responsible for the tidal wave of rubbish that eclipses the magnificent light of the real talents. I can tell you with utmost sincerity there is no better feeling on earth than knowing your creation is ALL yours, every pixel and dot, from the first to the last. It’s not always possible to make it so, but definitely the most rewarding endeavor. I’m most proud of myself when I can accomplish that. Back to Paul Jaisini, from the start there have been a number of theories floating around on what his real story is. One of my own theories is that he stands for the unknowns of the world who can’t get representation, can’t get exhibited at a decent gallery because highly gifted/trained artists aren’t good enough – those kind of establishments prefer bananas, balloon dogs, feces, gigantic dicks/cunts, and all kinds of what-the-fucks… So again, you don’t get the Paul Jaisini thing? That’s your problem. Don’t hate others for getting it. People are good, very good, at making baseless assumptions and impulsively spewing it as truth. They criticize and judge as if they’re high authorities on the subject yet they clearly lack education in fine art or art history and possess little to no talent or skill to back up their bullshit. My little “credibility radar” never fails. When they say I know this or I know that, I reply don’t say “I know” or state things as fact as a general rule of thumb – instead say “I assume/believe” and state the reasons you feel thus to appear less immature, especially about a controversial topic like invisible art. I have zero respect or tolerance for egomaniacs who think they know it all and act accordingly like arrogant pricks. Who can stand those, right? Once again, a good example would be: I, Stelly Riesling, believe everything I’ve written in this little manifesto to be correct based on personal experience and observation from multiple angles, thorough research and sufficient data collected from verifiable sources (and don’t go copying-pasting my own words back at me, be original). Just because you or I say so doesn’t make it so. Just because you or me think or believe so doesn’t make it true or right. I only ask that my opinions are regarded respectfully and whoever opposes them does so in a mature, civilized manner. We should only be entitled to opinions that don’t bring out the worst in us. I don’t normally take such a position, but the time has come to stand up for what I believe in! It’s quite amusing and comical how haters think calling me names, attacking me or my interests or members of the project I’m part of for years is going to change something. It only makes more evident the importance of what I’m doing so I push on harder still. Words of advise to those who can identify with me, with my frustrations over people’s reluctance to change their miserable ways, with our declining art world… DON’T waste time on people who sweat the small stuff, whose actions are consistently inconsistent with their words. DO waste time on people who always keep their eye on the ball—the bigger picture of life. Paul Jaisini’s invisible paintings are more than hype, more than your lame assumptions. Here’s one I got that’s pure gold: a cult! It started out as A JOKE OF MINE that was used against me. I told a then-good friend that he should come join our little “art cult” in a clearly lighthearted manner, and later he takes this idea I put in his head first and accuses me of being in an (imaginary) cult—the jokes on me eh?. But wait, aren’t cults religious? Our group consists of people around the world of different faiths (or none at all) so how could that ever work? If religion was about making fine (non-pop) art mainstream and bringing awesome, fresh, futuristic concepts to the collective consciousness, the world would not be so fucked up today because talent, creativity, originality and individuality would be the main focus, not superficial poppycock; those things would be praised and encouraged and supported in society by all institutions, not demonized and stigmatized. Here is one thing I CAN state as solid fact: only one person close to Paul Jaisini knows the TRUE story, or at least some of it: EYKG. Everything else that has ever been said about him is myth, legend, gossip, speculation, the worst of which is said by jealous non-artists (wannabes, clones, posers, hang-ons, unoriginal ppl in general) and anti-artists (religious psychos, squares, losers and -duh- stupid ppl). Sadly, people are unable to see the bigger picture by letting their egos run their lives or repeating after others as parrots. Commercial art, consumerism, and ignorance of the masses truly makes me want to curl up in a ball, not eat or drink or move until I die, just die in my sleep while dreaming of a better world, a world where real fine artists rule it with real fine art as they used to and life is beautiful once again…. Well I hope that settled THAT for now, or perhaps inadvertently made matters worse. I hope I didn’t sound too pissed from all these issues that keep popping up like penises on ChatRoulette… just got to me already! Can you tell? I had to put my foot down, stomp ‘em all! To be continued, still lots more ignorance and pettiness to battle… Till then peace out my bambini. MWAH! FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 PROLOGUE Paul Jaisini was like a messiah, as you wish, who saw/understood the impending end and complete degeneration of Fine art or Art become and investment nothing more than that. He predicted the bubble pops art when everybody would eventually become an artist, including dogs cats and horses, because they as kids followed the main rule: express yourself without skills or knowledge or any aesthetic concerns. J. Pollack started pouring paints onto canvases; Julian Schnabel, former cab driver from NY, suddenly decided he could do better than what he saw displayed in galleries, so he started gluing dishes on canvases; A.Warhol, an industrial artist who made commercial silk-screen for the factories he worked in, started to exhibit "Campbell’s soup" used for commercial adds… and later the thing that made him an "American Idol": by copying and pasting Hollywood celebrities (same type of posters he made before for movie theaters). When Paul Jaisini stood out against the Me culture in the US by burning all of his own 120 brilliant paintings (according to the then-new director of Fort Worth MoMa Museum, who offered hin an exhibition of his art in 1992, and later the Metropolitan Museum curator, Phillippe de Montebello, in 1994).Paul probably assumed all fellow true fine artists would join him or stand by him against corruption of the art world. And after 20 years of his stand-off…the time has finally come today. Many artists and humanitarians around the world took a place beside him. His invisible Paintings became a synonym for the future reincarnation of fine art and long lost harmony. The establishment is in panic! The "moneybags" (as Paul Jaisini named them) are in panic, because they invested BILLIONS of dollars in real crap made by craftsmen. Now they realize that the reputation of American legends of expressionism was nothing but a copy of Russian avant-garde" Kazimir Malevich, Vasiliy Kandinsky and tens of others from France and Germany.. US tycoon investors were spending billions on "Me more original, than you". "Artist Shit" is a 1061 artwork by the Italian artist Piero Manzoni. The work consists of 90 tin cans, filled with feces. A tin can was sold for £124,000, 180,000 at Sothebys, 2007. EPILOGUE Before I resume promoting and admiring a very important art persona on today’s international art arena, I’d like to clear up some BIG questions; people ask continuously and subconsciously, directly & indirectly: "Why does the name Paul Jaisini, flood the Internet in such "obnoxious" quantities that it’s started suppressing some other activities that my friends might share with the rest of the Internet’s Ego Me only Me www society? I can’t just answer this… so I’ll try to explain why I’m writing this: Jaisini’s followers keep posting art and info about, He IMHO the only hope in quickly decomposing visual fine art. "Paul Jaisini realized many years ago, in 1994, when he declared (at that time to himself only) the start of a New era, a New vision, that he is trying to redirect from the rat race, started by an establishment in post-war New York, long before the Internet culture. Sub related information: Adolf Gottlieb, Mart Rothko, etc (after visiting Paris France in 1933): "We must forget analytical art, we must express ourselves, as a 5 year old child would, without a developed consciousness. Forget about results – do what you feel, EXPRESS yourself with your own unique style" With this statement Mark Rothko starts to teach his students, degeneration of fine art begins, and the generation of war of styles took a start signal of the material race, greatly rewarded by establishment "individual" – eccentric craftsmen – show business clowns. Sub related Information: In the summer of 1936, Adolf Gottlieb painted more than 800 paintings, which was 20X more than he created in his whole art career as a painter, starting from the time of Gottlieb becomes a founding member of "The Ten" group in NYC "Group of Ten" was a very peculiar, enigmatic group… Based on a religious point of view;(where a human figure was prohibited from being created) GLOSSARY IN 1997, Paul Jaisini’s best friend Ellen Y.K.Gottlieb started a cyber campaign by promoting on a very young Internet, back then, Paul Jaisini’s burned paintings as Invisible Paintings, visible only through poetic essays. She and a handful of people saw his originals and were devastated that nobody could ever see them again. "We, his fans, believe that someday Paul will recreate his 120 burned paintings if he has any decency and moral obligation to his fans, who have dedicated decades to make it happen, for their Phoenix to rise from the ashes and the whole world will witness that all these years we spent to get him back to re-paint the Visuals again were not in vain," – said E.Y.K.Gottlieb in 2014 during the 20th anniversary celebration of Invisible Paintings to GIGroup in NYCity. So now, hopefully, this clears up why I and others do what we do – our "cyber terrorism" of good art, dedicated to Paul Jaisini’s return, which is & and was our mission & our goal. We post good art to fight "troll art" which is worthless pics, after being passed through 1-click filters of free web apps. We are, in fact, against this www pops pollution, done with "bubble art" by the out of control masses with 5 billon pics a day: Pics of cats, memes, quotes,national geographic sunsets and waterfalls, not counting their own daily "selfies: and whatever self-indulging Me-ego-Me affairs, sponsored happily by photo gadget companies like Canon, Nikon, Sony…who churn out higher quality madness tools at lower cost. This way Government taking away attention from the real world crisis of lowest morality & economical devastation. The masses are too easily re-engineered/manipulated by the Establishment PopsStyle delivered to them by pop music and Hollywood "super" stars. In 1992 Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit theory predict such a massive, pops self-entertain madness, following technological explosion, but not in illusive scales. Uber Aless @2015 NYC USA NOTE Date’s numbers and events can be slightly inaccurate. #gleitzeit #paul-jaisini #invisible #painting #art #futurism #art-news,

Posted by E_Y_K_G on 2015-03-28 04:43:10

Tagged: , smile ,

The post P.Jaisini-smiles-GIG-NYC2015 appeared first on Good Info.

0 notes