#i keep thinking about the scene where abberline has his shoes on his head and sebastian thinks its stupid and absurd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

agnimybeloved · 1 month ago

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regarding that last post... not that black butler's canon has to be uplifting or have dadbastian or a happy ending to be "good" (i'm actually partial to tragedies especially the cyclical kind and would love for the series to straight up end with despair and the collection on the contract lol) but i do think that toboso's largely fumbled the found-family/interpersonal,/introspective aspects of her story and sacrificed a lot of narrative and thematic meat there for low-brow and off-putting comedy.... which is really exactly all she does with ciel's trauma as well-- shallowly using it for the purposes of trauma porn and/or comedy/inappropriate fanservice.

ciel only seems to have reasonable responses to his trauma when its aesthetically convenient if that makes sense. i honestly could go as far as to say that she depicts his trauma fetishistically-- every instance i can recall of ciel having an extreme traumatic response (i.e. vomiting, flashbacks, psychosis) is represented with (imo but honestly.... i'd be shocked if this wasn't intentional...) sexual undertones. his episode during the green witch arc doesn't have one of these moments within the episode itself as far as i can recall, but certainly i think the preceding/inciting medical emergency that forces him and sebastian to bathe together contributes to the reoccurring sexualization of "sickness" (physical & psychological).

not to mention ciel's subsequent episode is treated as the dramatic peak of his ptsd and something that he "overcomes" through sheer force of will (and the threats of sebastian... neither of which are a proper/reasonable way to handle such an extreme trauma response) and doesn't really battle going forward in the story. of course a lot of stories take this "one dramatic moment and then its fixed" approach to representing mental illness, and it makes narrative sense for toboso to want to more or less settle that thread to gear up for the important blue cult arc, but i think toboso's handling of mental illness in general goes so far beyond suspension of disbelief and tastelessness that i think she should lowkey be brained for it. the way she intermittently writes ciel's traumatic experiences as something horrifying and wrong and to be given sympathy meanwhile relentlessly putting ciel in inappropriate fanservice situations that diminish the severity of csa & pedophilia as well as disrespect the complexities of trauma and turn them into comedy... mind boggling...

overall though i think that black butler shows a real mastery of narrative arcs while falling short in terms of character arcs. most of the time these arcs are shown in retrospect with the addition of new backstory, but it feels as if the characters in present have barely grown at all... not that every story has to be character driven and a static character type makes sense for someone like sebastian, but for all that ciel is a unique and mature thirteen year old due to the circumstances of his life, he is still a thirteen year old, and one that has experienced a significant trauma quite recently at that. not allowing him coming of age-esque character arcs considering all that sort of breaks the believability of his character imo.

but i think that coattails does a lot in staying loyal to ciel's character and experiences while also respecting his trauma and bringing the depth and flexibility of adolescence to his worldview and actions that toboso unfortunately seems disinterested in. i love that aforementioned chapter of coattails and its sentiments especially with how it reexamines ciel's actions at kelvin's manor and the worldview that lead to burning it down with the children inside... not that it was an out of character decision for ciel in the moment, but i think it established a lot more severe facts about his character and worldview than toboso is willing to address in her writing and therefore feels unresolved. coattails' remedy to that awkwardness by coming full circle is so intriguing and fulfilling in contrast... it shows how adolescence and trauma can work together to so completely convince one of hopelessness and yet how just a bit of hope can change that worldview entirely. literally just the honest love of a random dog and the mundane care of a guardian... there is a cure and it is this..... what da helllll....

#anyway as far as canon goes i genuinely dont care if sebastian never becomes softer or more human or paternal or whatever #i think examining the tiny ways in which he HAS become those things would be very intriguing but #what i do think would make for a way more compelling story was if ciel (and maybe others)#had more dynamic character arcs that contrasted sebastian's uninterest/inability to change #for ciel to slowly develop a worldview and desire for life that began to conflict with his 10 year old one #that so quickly forfeited his soul in a moment of total devastation and loss #or to begin thinking of sebastian as a parental figure no matter how small or unwanted or hated the thoughts #especially with a sebastian that wouldnt reciprocate ciel's regret of the contract or imprinting on him as a paternal figure #like if we're gonna do tragedy lets make it as tragic as possible pleaseeee #in some ways makes me think of spn if that makes sense. ep 1 and the final ep can be watched without missing anything #like if we go from 'ciel wants revenge and is fine having his soul taken' to #'ciel got revenge (however bittersweet it might be idk) and is fine having his soul taken' ending.....#i think that would be sort of boring #i think thats actually what's kind of bothered me about kss in recent years and left me really wanting from the story....#i love love love the narrative arcs and they're my favorite part but as far as the characters i feel like we're almost still at chapter one #why does any of this matter... how has this changed the characters... idk. i feel like we havent gotten much of that #disclaimer i havent read kss in a few years/am not caught up if im forgetting anything but 😭 i feel like i wouldve rememebred...#anyway. another thing i really love about coattails is that its written with sebastians pov and so brilliantly too #the author writes his voice (and everyone) so believably #literally not a single line feels like a throwaway or generalized narrator voice...#i keep thinking about the scene where abberline has his shoes on his head and sebastian thinks its stupid and absurd #and when abberline puts them back on his feet the describing line isnt just #'he put them back on his feet'#but 'he put them back on his feet where they belonged'#and 'where they belonged' is an unnecessary/assumed detail of the action itself but given its written from sebastian's pov #it further emphasizes how stupid and absurd he thinks the whole thing is. 'thats where they belong.... idiot....'#whatever. whateverrrrr.#i love this fic. my fav fic of all time forever i will never find another like it #i just watched the public school arc and was lowkey so disappointed that i had to reread coattails LOL #kss

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sterlinghamilton · 8 years ago

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The Ripper Act 1

FADE IN:

EXT. LONDON SIDE STREET - NIGHT

There is a blanket of mist laying on a street lamp, a single droplet slides down and the flame within flickers like it's about to blown out but doesn't.

The street is quiet save for the odd carriage that drives by, the horse hooves create an echoing CLIP CLOP on the cobblestone street. As for the side, where travelers huddle under their coats and hoods, a taller figure stands out from the rest.

He is merely a shadow but he walks with purpose towards the mouth of an alley, his form growing like a monster as the light plays with his shadowy form.

His black, leather shoes make a distinct sound as the soles hit the ground with each stride.

He turns the corner into the mouth of the alley and disappears. For a solid beat the world is quiet, not the sound of the street is heard, only the faint beat of a heart.

Suddenly a woman's SCREAM erupts from the alley.

CUT TO:

INT. ARRAN'S BEDROOM - DAY

The morning light is shinning through the sheer curtains, shedding light on a four poster double bed with rich maroon covers. The room is spacious with mahogany furniture and a full length mirror on the other side of the room.

ARRAN (24), a blonde haired body with delicate features, once nestled in the confinements of his blankets is awoken by a hand softly shaking his shoulder.

His eyes open and there is TIM (18), the valet, a young boy with dark brown hair and a slender built. He is standing over Arran's bed.

TIM Master Arran, I'm sorry for waking you. But their's been another.

Arran reaches for his glasses. He sits up and puts them on.

ARRAN Another what- another what?

He YAWNS.

Tim holds out a telegram that had been already opened. It is addressed to JAMES WINTERS.

ARRAN (CONT'D) What is this?

Takes the letter from Tim's hand and reads it over.

ARRAN (CONT'D) Dorest Street -- another murder?

SLAPS the letter down on the mahogany dresser.

ARRAN (CONT'D) I have to go out, Tim!

TIM But sir, the Misses expects you to be here and prepared.

Arran is dressing himself and Tim hurries to take over.

ARRAN Oh for the big party? If she knew the first thing about me, she'd understand that a party is just going to have to wait!

He brushes Tim off and walks over to the hook on the wall supporting a dusty, worn over coat that looks a size too big for him. Over his nicely ironed clothes, he drapes himself in it and opens the door.

ARRAN (CONT'D) The Ripper did not wait and neither shall I!

TIM The Ripper wasn't invited, sir.

ARRAN Well that's unfortunate, we'd make him the special guest! Wipe that big, stupid-

Arran turns to the hall only to get up close to his mother's squat and scolding expression. KATE (40), Arran's mother, is a busty woman who has successfully produced two children. Her hair is stacked on her hair in a pleasant up-do, while her dress is tight to her waist and consists of a floral pattern that would make someone dizzy.

ARRAN (CONT'D) Good morning, mummy?

Kate puts her hands on her hips, blocking her son from moving past her.

KATE The only person you should be thinking about inviting is a woman.

ARRAN Will you ever stop with that? There are more important things to obsess about, like the safety of the general public!

KATE And where do you think you're going with that tattered old coat?

Arran clutches the edges of it to his chest protectively.

ARRAN Just for a walk.

KATE You better make sure to be back in time for the celebration!

ARRAN I'm not exactly sure what we're celebrating.

KATE Do you have no care for your old mothers heart? It's your sister's return home from her honeymoon!

She lets him step past her.

ARRAN It's not that I don't care for your heart or my sister, it's just another woman's has stopped last night and I must hurry!

KATE W-What!? Arran Winters, you take that coat off this instant and get back here! You'll never find a wife if you keep avoiding your responsibilities!

EXT. OUTSIDE THE WINTER ESTATE - DAY

The house is attached to another house on each side, the brick is a dark earthy brown with off-white finishing around the windows and doors. There are three levels to the house, along with a small garden in the front.

ARRAN As if I want a wife.

He shuts the door and brushes his concerns off with a full body shake.

Walking down the steps, he puts his foot down on the sidewalk and the world around him takes over his senses.

PAN London's streets, over the roof tops where the black smoke rising into the air and the streets look busy even from above.

EXT. LONDON STREET - DAY

There is a crowd of angry civilian's, newspaper reporters and police officers pushing to either get into the alley or catch a look at the crime scene that is hidden by the shadows of the building.

Arran stands across the street, hands in his coat pocket. He watches with an unreadable expression, looking over the scene before him. Shaking his head, he turns and walks away.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BUILDING ROOFTOP - DAY

The rooftop is flat and stands alone from the other buildings that are on either side of it.

A HUFF of breath and Arran pulls himself up on top of the roof from a makeshift box stack that dangerously sways beneath his foot.

The edge of the coat suddenly catches on a nail sticking out of the roof tiles. Arran makes a disgruntled sound to pull himself free while the boxes continue to sway.

It is clear he is losing his balance.

ARRAN Whoa, whoa, whoa!

OFFICER Hey!

Arran manages to look over his shoulder where a man in a police uniform is coming down the alley where he is trying to climb up from.

Arran tugs on his coat, urgent to get free.

The officer runs towards the boxes.

OFFICER (CONT'D) Hey! You can't be up there! Get down!

Arran pulls and pulls again, his coat tares and he loses balance.

The Officer backs up.

ARRAN WHOOOA!

Arran falls forward, the boxes tumble to the ground, he barely hangs on then slowly pulls himself up.

The Officer begins to blow his whistle from below.

Arran makes a TSK sound and hurries away. Running across the rooftop to get to the other side.

ARRAN (CONT'D) All I need is a peak, just one peak.

Behind him, the Officer is pulling himself up from a new stack of boxes.

Arran reaches the other side.

Below him is an empty court but no signs of the body.

Arran looks behind him, then to the top of a chimney.

OFFICER Hey you! Stop right there!

Arran bolts to the left and climbs onto the edge of the large chimney.

The Officer is behind him but has stopped. The Officer holds out his hand in a pleading motion for Arran not to continue.

Arran flashes the man a grin before slipping down the shoot.

Inside the chimney is covered in ash, the ash creates a cloud that rises up the top of the chimney.

THE OFFICER LOOKS OVER THE EDGE BUT GETS SOOT IN HIS FACE.

CUT TO:

INT. MILLER'S COURT HOUSE - DAY

The house is plain and vacant of any personal touches. The fireplace is large, unlit with old burnt logs laying on the black grate. There is a bed by the window, the sheets, once white, are now stained a deep crimson whilst a body lay on top. The woman has been untouched by the surrounding officials. Her age is up for question as her appearance is nearly unrecognizable. Her head lay a little off her neck while her insides are on display. The once curly mousy brown hair is soaked into the pillow as the blood dried from the wounds on her face.

Chief Inspector FREDERICK ABBERLINE (43), an older looking man with dark hair and a beard, the grey wistfully reveals itself around his temples. Stands addressing a Younger Officer, while a man bent over a Box style camera. In the corner another man sits sketching out the scene taking place in front of him.

FREDERICK I want a team at the gates as well as the doors. If anyone gets in, they will have to go through us.

The Younger Officer nods respectfully and turns to leave. Not before a strange sound is heard at the fireplace.

Both men look in the direction as a body lands at the base of the pit with a loud CRASH, sending ash scattering across the floor.

The Photographer nearly loses his grip on his camera but clings it to his chest instead.

The Artist in the corner jumps up in surprise, then slowly sinks back down onto his chair, folding a new page over and beginning to draw this new scene.

Arran brushes himself off upon standing and stumbling out of the pit.

ARRAN Quite a drop.

FREDERICK Indeed.

Arran looks up, having not noticed anyone in the room prior. He looks to the Police, the Artist, the Photographer and finally his eyes grow wide at the body.

FREDERICK (CONT'D) �� That's it! Get him out of here! Bloody journalists always finding new ways to get the scoop.

The Young Officer walks towards Arran but Arran holds his hands up.

ARRAN W -- Wait! It's me! Winters!

FREDERICK James Winters? Aren't you a bit young to be a detective?

ARRAN Well James Winters is my father. I - I'm just here...

He trails off and looks back at the body. Ignoring the Young Officer, he steps towards it, looking entranced.

ARRAN (CONT'D) I can't believe it.

FREDERICK Absolutely frightening.

Frederick nods to the Young Officer who puts a hand on Arran's shoulder.

ARRAN Wait! This is important! She's different!

The Young Officer begins to pull Arran to the door.

FREDERICK Of course it's different, he had all bloody night with her.

ARRAN But you don't understand --

He trips over the edge of the door, the two Officers outside stand up straighter in surprise.

Frederick walks over to the doorway and looks down at Arran.

FREDERICK Children are not permitted near crime scenes, now if you want information, you're just going to have to wait like the rest of the public.

Frederick turns and walks back into the room.

ARRAN I'm not a child.

Arran stands and fixes his oversized coat that is now covered in ash and walks to the gates.

CUT TO:

EXT. LONDON CENTRAL POLICE STATION - DAY

A CARRIAGE DRIVES BY THE FRONT DOOR OF THE STATION.

INT. LONDON CENTRAL POLICE STATION MEETING ROOM - DAY

There is a dusty, old appeal to the building, the windows have been fogged over and a yellow glow is cast by the gas lamps secured to the walls.

On the right of the main door is a built in desk area for the on call officers, ahead of that is a large center area that has benches for people to wait on.

Down the hall are sets of offices with inside and outside facing windows. Detective James Winters is currently in a rental office where there is a single desk with piles of paper on it. In the desk chair sits James Winters (47), he is a handsome man, well kept but the bags under his eyes suggest lack of sleep. He rubs the bridge of his nose where his wired glasses usually sit. Leaning over his desk, he looks like he is about ready to take a nap.

The door SLAMS open and James jerks up.

JAMES Yes sir!

ARRAN I need to get a closer look at that body!

JAMES Oh, it's you. Arran, how many times must I explain to you that you're not on this investigation.

Arran sits down across from James in the wooden chair.

ARRAN I understand that.

JAMES Then why -- hold on. How did you know about the body?

Arran fidgets in his seat.

ARRAN I may or may not have seen the telegram addressed to you this morning.

JAMES Arran Winters!

ARRAN But father! I'm old enough to do this, and you know Scotland Yard is neither closer to the truth than the dimwits at this station.

JAMES Dimwits I'm working with.

ARRAN And from what I saw at the scene today, Jack the Ripper is becoming more aggressive.

JAMES You saw the body?

ARRAN I think he's working up to something. I know he had more time with her, but I think this aggression is leading to something bigger, maybe a bigger target.

JAMES How exactly did you see the body?

ARRAN That isn't the point, father! The point is that --

James let's out a SIGH that interrupts Arran's rant.

JAMES If I give you something, will you just go home? You're mother is probably pulling her hair out with worry.

ARRAN Yes.

James leans forward, lacing his fingers in front of him.

JAMES While you do make a good case, I believe that this last victim is in fact his last.

ARRAN What?

JAMES Now go home!

James stands with a slight groan and begins to shuffle Arran out the door.

ARRAN But, but, but.

JAMES I'll see you this evening.

The door shuts and Arran stares blankly at it before letting out a SIGH and walking away.

#jack the ripper #script

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