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tinyozlion · 1 year ago

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Zechs Marquise / Milliardo Peacecraft: A Heel Turn for the Greater Good

Zechs Merquise is the main character of Gundam Wing.

Ah, you thought it was Heero, or maybe Relena, didn��t you? Well, judging by the first act of the series, this is clearly not the case!

Zechs is the very first character we’re introduced to. He’s mysterious, handsome, ultra-competent. He shows concern for civilian safety and the safety of his men. He takes personal risks, fights on the front lines. He demonstrates right away that he has a strong ethical code that places great importance on the moral conduct of soldiers. His subordinates look up to him, his superiors value and respect him. We get all of this in act one of episode one.

Absolute hero material, so far! Hard to see why he's being framed like antagonist. Whatever, I'm sure he'll be on the winning team in no time! Just like Quattro Vegeta, or whatever.

By episode three, we’re introduced to the Tallgeese, a mobile suit that matches all the criteria for being the Big Damn Hero Machine that a protagonist would use: it’s ancient, it’s got a history, it’s the progenitor suit, it’s got no bells or whistles, it demands great strength and skill from the pilot but offers unmatched performance to those who can overcome its challenges. It’s the perfect suit for Zechs, and obviously the next step in his hero’s journey! This is the part of the story where he can finally meet the terrifying, so-far unbeatable enemy on equal footing.

...But of course, OZ is also introduced in episode 3. So now we know that Zechs works for some faceless, secret military organization– but that’s fine, right? It’s the Alliance military that’s the Big Bad Guy, and Zechs seems to be part of some elite special unit that’s only for brave, self-sacrificing soldiers! OZ hasn’t done anything really bad yet, while on the other hand, the Gundam pilots have been a bunch of mercilessly violent loose cannons who’ll kill anyone who gets in their way.

In episode four, we meet Noin, an immediately likable and equally skilled OZ officer who has a deep personal connection with Zechs. Already this is a power couple we can get behind. We watch as Noin suffers a humiliating defeat and a barrage of misogyny from a Gundam pilot, who kills a bunch of young recruits in their sleep. Definitely not a good look for the Gundam Team! while Zechs and Noin (and Treize, in a more literal sense) come out of this episode smelling like roses.

Just look at them! They’re going to make such a great team. I hope they give those homicidal Gundam kids what for!

It’s only when episode five rolls around that we finally see what OZ is really about: assassinations, covert schemes, foul play, political manipulation, and the ruthless accumulation of power. Uh oh!

But surely, Lady Une is the real baddy here, and Treize is no more than a shadowy puppet master whose true motives remain mysterious. Zechs and Noin are still such obvious Good Guy candidates, they really ought to be the main protagonists of this show by now! The big scary OZ that the Colony rebels warned us about seems a far cry from the OZ we’ve seen so far. Even after the point where OZ becomes the new uncontested Bad Guy, Zechs and co. keep their noses pretty clean.

And then! Then Zechs reveals his tragic past, his double-identity, his secret Count of Monte Cristo/ Man in the Iron Mask plot to avenge the ruin of the Sanc Kingdom and the deaths of his family, the noble house of Peacecraft! How romantic, how dashing! His quest continues to best the Gundams, but this takes on the hue of personal enlightenment; Zechs wants to defeat the Gundam pilots to prove he is capable of being a “True Soldier”, worthy of the power he’s been given, worthy of what has been sacrificed to his cause.

Boy, that’s some hero behavior! And it gets even better: Zechs and Noin leave OZ to begin championing the Sanc Kingdom and its policies of Total Pacifism. No one can say Zechs isn’t one of the good guys now, right? He even dresses up all spiffy in white and becomes an ambassador to promote peace in the colonies!

–Or rather, he tries to.

Because despite having gained a reporte with a few of the Gundam pilots, he still hasn’t managed to ally with them. They still view him as an enemy, no matter how hard or how desperately he tries to convince them that he’s turned over a new leaf.

He can’t beat them, and he can’t join them. Why?

Pictured: the saddest boys in the universe.

The second act of Gundam Wing is a crucible where every character is forced to re-evaluate their place in the ongoing conflict. You can see and feel his frustration building as the future spirals out of control.

What is the purpose of Zechs Merquise, or of Milliardo Peacecraft?

He has refused to be OZ’s mascot, the Lightning Count. He’s not capable of bringing peace to the colonies by himself. He can’t join the Gundams in their fight against OZ. He can’t even protect the Sanc Kingdom, because the very act of fighting in its name is used as an excuse to wipe it out.

He bids a heartfelt adieu to his Big Damn Hero Machine, the Tallgeese, and finds himself in possession of its polar opposite: the Epyon, a machine made to scour its pilot and the world of hypocrisy.

Finally, Zechs has his answer– the reason why his purpose eludes him, why all his best intentions go astray, why the harder he tries to align his moral compass to the Gundam pilots or embrace his pacifistic inheritance, the more lost he becomes: He is not the hero.

He has been trying and failing to be a hero since episode one because this isn’t a story about noble, heroic, chivalrous warriors doing battle in order to gain personal clarity and strength.

It’s not about man-vs-man conflict resolving in a test of skill. If it were, Zechs would have been victorious and completed his hero’s journey by now, and the show would be over.

But that was never the role he was meant to play. That’s not what the stage requires. The third act begins as he accepts a new mantle, and becomes the villain history needs in that moment to bring everything together.

“Zechs considers this place his grave. [...]He intends to pay for the sin of purging humanity, all by himself.”

–Not to purge humanity of “violent earthlings”, as his White Fang propaganda speech stated, but to purge the current generation of the means to wage mechanized warfare, and of the desire for combat and retribution itself, in order to finally bring the cycle of war between the earth and space to an end.

…But of course, nothing ever really ends, does it? History dances forward, with or without you, and all the sacrifices and fail-safes in the world will not stop new challenges from arising.

Nevertheless, if it is possible to choose, by means of noble principle, to be a villain for the sake of the greater good, in the full assurance of one’s own destruction and revilement, then surely that is also in some winding, definitionally tragic way, a path to heroism– and if this is so, then Zechs is strong (and disillusioned) enough to take it.

I do not think that the series supports the idea that his actions or their consequences are justified– only that they achieve their immediate purpose: setting the stage for peace. For now.

...And Now, An Important Note on Gundam Meta:

Zechs is what is referred to in the parlance of the Gundam fandom as a “Char Archetype”, or “Char Clone”-- a term I think is of debatable accuracy. For a longer discussion on Char Aznable and his role in MS Gundam, please see the entry: The Char Aznable Problem. But I want to make it clear that knowing about Char’s backstory IS NOT a necessary prerequisite to understanding Zechs’s story.

Zechs and Char share a lot of DNA as characters, that’s unavoidable– a masked man in red who poses a threat to the main Gundam pilot is a staple of the genre; he’s deliberately an homage to Char, as much an expected feature of a Gundam series as... well, Gundams. That much is not in question.

However: Char’s motivations only make sense in the context of the original Gundam series; if you try to apply the same logic within the structure of Gundam Wing, it becomes gibberish. But the gibberish is by design– If you don’t understand the context behind Zech’s late-series genocidal spiel on why “earthlings are the ultimate threat to peace so we must destroy earth, the source of all conflict yadda-yadda blah-blah”, then… yeah, you’re up to speed. No one else listening to White Fang’s broadcast understood it either. It’s MEANT to sound like the ramblings of an extremist madman who poses a catastrophic and unavoidable threat to both Earth AND the Space Colonies he claims to represent. That’s the basic nature of his Ozymandius Gambit: invent something scary enough that everyone has to band together to fight it.

So you don’t need to know about Char to understand Zechs– but knowing about Char does make Zech’s role (and Treize’s role!) in Gundam Wing that much more interesting.

Zechs is not a Char Clone, he is a conversation with the idea of Char, taking a theme and transposing it into a new composition.

--Anyway, it’s a little unfair to try and force a comparison between Zechs and Char, when Char had MS Gundam, Zeta Gundam, and Char’s Counterattack to do everything he did, and Zechs only had Wing.

Now, I’m not a mathematician or anything, but I’d say that makes Zechs roughly…

Three times faster.

#milliardo peacecraft #zechs merquise #gundam wing #gundam wing meta #gundam meta #character analysis #parsing post #tinyozlion pgw

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monstersdownthepath · 1 year ago

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Herald of Torag: The Grand Defender

CR 15

Lawful Good Huge Construct

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 310

Among the strangest (and least creatively named) of the Heralds, the Grand Defender is one of the rare few Heralds that did not begin their existence as a mortal follower or an elevated celestial, instead being literally crafted by their god's own two hands. In this case, if you couldn't tell by the title nor his physical appearance, the God of the Forge (and of dwarves in general), Torag. He's even stranger than most other divine constructs, though, because the Grand Defender was built with an explicit and bizarre purpose: as a tomb for the bodies of Torag's chosen dwarven heroes.

Given how the Defender is Huge, and dwarves are Small, one can only come to the conclusion that they're all jammed into its limbs and torso to form into some kind of corpse Voltron. Just... rattling around in there as it moves, hopefully so secure they don't actually move that much when it attacks. What do you think happens if it loses and then regains a limb? Does it teleport the bodies back into itself? Does Torag launch a rescue mission for what is essentially one of his most holy relics to inter them in his Herald again? Did he ever consider a less risky location? Who's to say; the poor thing's lore block is literally a sentence long, and it hasn't appeared in any AP or module, thus our information on it is tragically limited.

But if its lore block is tiny, that must mean its statblock is impressive, right? Well...

It's just an Iron Automata with some extra bells and whistles. Before you go clicking off this page, please know they're amusing bells and whistles... but it's a little disappointing to see "this ability works like it does for the Iron Automata" be pasted onto two of its four unique powers. It's an Automata Except Bigger, and with sapience so it can adjust its tactics on the fly.

It should give you a fair idea of what to expect from it, at least: A smash mook with no magic and very little defenses besides those conveyed by its Construct typing. It's got pathetically low saves (+6/+5/+8), low HP for its level (157 while most other Heralds are pushing 180 or 200), and no immunities or resistances besides it gains by being a Construct... oh, and the Iron Automata's complete Immunity to Magic, making it significantly more resilient than its statblock would suggest. Suddenly, its low saves and zero elemental resistances make a little more sense, as few offensive spells can actually pierce this impervious shield, and almost no common debuffs can work on a Construct. Electricity damage from a magic effect may slow it and prevent it from using its Full-Attack, but any magic trying to bring fire against it heals it instead, turning the most popular damage type against its holders.

It's got DR 15/Adamantine as its standard, but it's got an amusing ability called Ablative Armor that turns it into a towering, hammer-wielding matryoshka doll: As a standard action, the Defender can shed its outermost layer of metal to reveal another, very slightly smaller version of itself underneath that's made out of a different metal, swapping its DR to another source to thwart attempts to damage it. It can swap between DR 15/Adamantine, /Cold Iron, or /Silver at will, and whatever damage type its DR is bypassed by is also what types of DR its own weapons can bypass, letting it pierce several common resistances. Ablative Armor also shields it from the same death most Constructs would suffer at 0 HP, shutting down but not dying unless its body is fully destroyed and torn to pieces. 1d4 hours after it's slain, its armor automatically triggers, revealing yet another Defender under the first while restoring half its HP and allowing it time to either retreat and recover or stalk after its destroyers to end them.

Fun fact: Any armor shed from its person crumbles to powder 1d4 minutes later to prevent it from just generating infinite raw material. The only way to stop it from dissolving entirely is if the Grand Defender eats it, but we'll get to THAT tidbit later.

For now, the Grand Defender is tremendously resilient and doesn't die unless you take special precautions to put it down permanently... but on the downside, it's also the slowest Herald by a country mile, having only a 30ft movespeed. This is somewhat made up for by its immense 15ft space and 15ft reach, but its ability to keep enemies in that range is extremely limited. Stand Still is reliable due to its +31 CMB, but it can only use the feat once per round, because despite having Combat Reflexes, it has a Dexterity score of 9, meaning it can't even use the extra Attacks of Opportunity! It's got to be really choosy about when and on whom it uses Stand Still, if it even gets to do so in the first place because, again, it's got no mobility beyond its 30ft movespeed, no magical movement methods, and no capacity for Stealth beyond its ability to look like a statue when it doesn't move, so its options for getting the drop on the party are also limited. If someone doesn't want to be in melee with it and it can't catch them in its radius during the surprise round, there's virtually no way for it to force them back towards it.

And you don't want to be nearby, in case it wasn't obvious. That massive hammer deals 3d6+11 damage upwards to 4 times a round with accuracy that's a step above most of the other Heralds, allowing it to sacrifice some of it to pour into Power Attack. Its warhammer deals triple damage on a critical hit, and four blows a round make it likely to see one every odd round, or even every round if you're especially unlucky. That immense threat radius also means its Great Cleave feat can make its turns look down right comical if it's got enough targets around to let it spin and spin and spin.

Besides its hammer, it's got the poisonous cloud of an Iron Automata, exhaling a 10ft cloud of toxic gas into an adjacent space once every 1d4 rounds as a free action. Anyone who enters or begins their turn in the cloud must make a DC 19 Fortitude save or take 1d4 Con damage a round for 4 rounds... but that's not the only weapon it's got coming out of its mouth, which is an admittedly unusual sentence. Even more unusual is the Defender's novel breath weapon: Hammer Storm. This 30ft cone is made up of, as the name suggests, warhammers, blasting everyone who fails a DC 19 Reflex save for 15d6 damage and sending them flying directly away from the Defender, potentially pushing them into hazardous terrain.

These regurgitated warhammers are perfectly mundane in function and, interestingly, do not disappear, allowing creature to pick one up and wield it (the ability specifically creates 24 hammers). These leavings are what the Grand Defender uses as its ranged option, its Throw Anything feat letting it huck the weapons like lawn darts at distant or airborne foes. Hammer Storm is normally only usable once a day, but the Defender can recharge the ability by taking a minute to consume the regurgitated warhammers or an equivalent amount of metal from any source (including the shell that drops off of it when it uses Ablative Armor), allowing the Defender to recycle metal scraps or the armor of its foes into weapons for its people. One must wonder if the dwarves interred inside are actually dead and not just banging away on tiny forges to create the hammers or the next layer of the Defender.

You can read more about it here.

#Monster Spotlight #Holy Heralds Month #Pathfinder #CR 11 to 15

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zynyx · 18 days ago

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A Storm Brews at the Edge of Eternity

The highest building in Shibuya stood as an unyielding sentinel, its sharp silhouette cutting into the twilight sky. The city below was alive with chaos, a discordant melody of life that the Goddess of the Void, Cass, often found amusing. Tonight, however, her focus was not on the mortals who scurried below her, nor on the petty wars that raged across the dimensions she ruled. No, tonight, her gaze was fixed on the building across from her—specifically, on the crimson-haired woman cradling the head of a boy in her lap.

Cass’s presence was a paradox—a goddess among mortals yet untouchable, unknowable. She stood at the very edge of the building, her maroon three-piece suit a striking contrast to the shadows that enveloped her. Chains adorned her waistcoat, clinking softly with the wind, their sound barely audible beneath the chiming bell of her Santa hat. The long black coat she wore fluttered dramatically in the breeze, as if the Void itself reached out to claim her. A pair of leather gloves graced her hands, one of which absently held a half-eaten Ferrero Rocher, her favorite mortal indulgence. Her other hand rested behind her back, the gloved fingers tracing the initials on the wedding ring on her fourth finger.

The ring—a symbol of a love that transcended time and space—had once been a beacon of joy. Now, it was a cruel reminder of what Fate had stolen from her.

“My wife doesn’t seem to remember me, Salem,” Cass murmured, her voice carrying the weight of centuries yet laced with the sardonic humor that had become her shield. The black cat perched on her shoulder—a creature as mysterious and eternal as she—flicked its tail lazily, its glowing yellow eyes fixed on the scene below.

Makima. The Control Devil. The cold, calculating, manipulative woman who had once been her greatest love. The woman who now seemed utterly at peace, her delicate fingers stroking the boy’s hair with a tenderness Cass couldn’t bear to watch. Jealousy twisted in her chest, a venomous serpent that threatened to consume her. She smiled—a sharp, predatory thing that revealed nothing of the storm within.

“My wife,” she whispered, her tone dripping with dark humor, “always so tender, so caring. Stroking another man's hair like she's auditioning for a shampoo commercial.” She chuckled, her voice low and sultry, but there was a sharp edge to it, a crack in the façade.

Salem flicked his tail, balancing effortlessly on her shoulder. “Oh, the Goddess of Jealousy is oozing,” he teased, his voice smooth, a purr tinged with mockery. “You could burn the world with how you’re glaring at her. Well, you could burn it anyway, but this? This is personal.”

Cass clicked her tongue, the sound sharp as the blade tattooed on her back, a katana that seemed almost alive beneath her suit. “Jealousy? Oh, Salem, you wound me. I’m not jealous,” she drawled, though her fingers dug into the leather of her gloves. “I’m just… observant. A little heartache, a little longing. Maybe a lot of anger. Fate’s cruel joke, you know.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it, Salem?” Cass continued, her gray eye gleaming beneath the black silk blindfold that hid her other. “I’m standing here like some tragic heroine, watching my wife—my wife, mind you—pamper a boy who doesn’t even know how to clean his own apartment.” She popped the last of the Ferrero Rocher into her mouth, savoring the sweetness even as bitterness coursed through her.

Salem’s response was a low, rumbling purr. The cat’s voice, when it spoke, was heard only by Cass. “Tragic heroine? You? Don’t flatter yourself, Goddess. You’re more like the villain in one of those mortal dramas you claim to despise.”

Cass laughed, a rich, melodic sound that seemed to make the air around her shimmer. “Oh, come now, Salem. Don’t sell me short. I’m at least an anti-hero. Maybe even the morally gray love interest who steals the show.”

Her smile faltered as her gaze returned to Makima. Even from this distance, she could see the serene expression on her wife’s face, the way her crimson eyes softened as she looked at the boy. Cass’s heart twisted painfully. Fate had been cruel, ripping them apart and erasing Makima’s memories of their eons-long love. But Cass had endured. She had searched, she had fought, and now she had found her—only to discover that Makima no longer knew her.

“She’s always been like this,” Cass murmured, more to herself than to Salem. “So calm, so composed. It’s infuriating.” Her gloved hand clenched into a fist. “And yet, I can’t help but…”

“Love her?” Salem finished, its tone both mocking and understanding.

Cass sighed. “I was going to say ‘obsess over her,’ but sure. Let’s go with love. Makes me sound less like a stalker.”

The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint sound of laughter from the streets below. The bell on Cass’s hat chimed softly, a mournful sound that seemed to echo her unspoken pain.

Across the chasm between the buildings, Makima’s head lifted slightly, as if she sensed something. Her crimson eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and calculating. Cass held her breath, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. But Makima’s gaze passed over her without recognition, and the flicker died as quickly as it had come.

“She doesn’t see me,” Cass whispered, her voice barely audible. “She doesn’t even know I exist.”

Salem’s tail flicked against her cheek. “Perhaps it’s for the best. Do you really think she would welcome you with open arms? The Control Devil, bowing to the Goddess of the Void? Unlikely.”

Cass’s smile returned, sharper and colder than before. “Oh, I’m not looking for a warm welcome, Salem. I’m looking for her to remember. To feel what I feel. To know what Fate took from us.”

Her voice dropped, filled with a dark promise. “And if I have to burn this entire realm to the ground to make that happen, so be it.”

Salem purred in approval. “There’s the goddess I know. Unhinged, unbothered, and utterly terrifying.”

Cass chuckled, her mood lifting slightly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear Salem.”

She turned her attention back to Makima, her smile softening despite herself. “You’ll remember me, my love. Even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure of it.”

#makima x oc #makima #chainsaw man #dark

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aliciavance4228 · 1 month ago

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oops I did ask wrong. I meant hot takes on gothic literature. For mine I hate most adaptions of Dracula

Oh my goodness, me too!

From what I've seen the 1992 ecranisation seems to be one of the most accurate adaptations of the book, though the fact that they decided to give Dracula an entire background story and make Mina the reincarnation of his dead wife just to make him more human is where I slowly begin to become dissapointed. It made both Mina and Dracula dirty, and the fact that there are so many people claiming things like "Oh, Dracula is about the repressed gay/female sexuality" despite the fact that both of these metaphorical acts took place without Jonathan and Mina's consent gives me the "ick". They two are happily married and Dracula is a little bitch, kill him! (Which actually happened, lol.)

For now I can safely say that the Dracula ecranisation which I despised the most is the Dracula: Untold one. That movie was american propaganda + misinformation at its finest (romanian here). Ironically enough I liked Nosferatu (despite the fact that it technically plagiarized the book) and Bela Lugosi's portrayal.

Carmilla >>> Dracula;

The Phantom of the Opera: I don't like how nowdays people collectively believe that Christine loved both Erik and Raoul, when in the novel she was in love only with the latter one. Erik is depicted in the book as a creepy, jealous and murderous incel, and the only strong feeling Christine had for him at the end is pity. And yet people still use Erik's tragic background story and twisted love for her in order to justify his disgusting behaviors and evil deeds.

Despite the fact that I loved Mary Shelley's Frankenstein I somehow wish that Dr. Jekyll would be considered the original "Mad Scientist" rather than Victor. Dude not only that was a grown man with finished, superior studies instead of a 19yo boy, but he also had the balls to experiment on himself.

Mary and Percy Shelley's Proserpine is deeply underrated.

While The Picture of Dorian Gray is generally a great read, Faust not only that depicts the original pact with the Devil, but is infinitely superior.

It would've been more interesting if the cat's name from The Black Cat by E. A. Poe would've been Dionysus/Bacchus instead of Pluto. I even made a post about it.

And... that's all that comes to my mind for now.

#gothic literature #goth literature #goth lit #ask #hot take

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writingrenna · 2 years ago

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"Why You...?"

Larry x GN!Reader

(Relationship Status: Life Partners)

(Tone: Angsty, Tragic, Depressing)

(Warnings: Larry is depressed and barely aware of his surroundings, you're gone for unexplained reasons, he overdoses on sleeping meds)

(Also, he's alive at the end, but he certainly won't be waking up anytime soon)

//V\\

The man looked at the clock on his nightstand. 9:27. He had slept through his alarm.

He sighed, not really worrying too much about that at the moment, deciding he'll just deal with Geeta later.

He dragged himself out of bed, walking into the bathroom. He grabbed his toothbrush and the toothpaste. He looked down at his hands, suddenly aware that his arms were shaking when...

//V\\

He's at his desk. He doesn't remember if Geeta actually said anything to him that morning. His mind is... elsewhere.

He tries to type up some sort of report on who-knows-what. His mind really is drawing up a blank despite seeing the title.

//V\\

"...so yes, please take the rest of the day off. I will email you later this afternoon."

He looked at the corner of the screen. 13:58. He had only written about a paragraph or two. Geeta was in front of his desk, looking some shade of concerned.

'Strange...' the man thought. Her usual polite yet somewhat diplomatic smile was clear as day, yes, but she seemed to speak very gently as opposed to her usual stern 'get it done' type of way.

She walked away, but not before saying, "I hope to see you signed out in the next 15 minutes."

He got up before remembering he had to log off his work computer, so he plopped back down to--

//V\\

"Larry..."

She was back. He looked at the time. 14:18. He was sitting slumped in his chair. It was comfortable, sure, but it was also something he would never do at work.

He responds, voice oddly quiet.

"Oh, I... time must've escaped me. This won't happen again, La Primera."

She shook her head.

"You can't promise that. You know you can't. Stop forcing yourself to stick around, Larry. This is the first time you've slacked off in the over ten years you've worked for me, I can spare some time for berea--"

//V\\

He was standing at his front door, holding a container of tea and a bag. He didn't remember getting anything to eat that day, stomach suddenly growling at the sight of nourishment.

He looked up, suddenly realizing Hassel and Brassius were standing there, Brassius nodding solemnly as Hassel gave his speech.

"...I truly do hope you take this time to feel your feelings. No need for a facade. Their memory is worth letting your guard down."

"...thanks." was all the man could muster. It was then that he realized a strand of grey hair was in his line of sight. Was that always out of place? Did he even comb his hair that morning?

He backed up, closing the door before going to sip the tea in his hand...

//V\\

He was on his couch, hand on the remote control. He was looking at the news. Cloudy all week long. He growled at the sight.

'Ironic...'

His Staraptor approached, cautiously nudging his hand with its head.

He sighed.

"Not... not right now. I'm sorry."

His partner, his best friend for longer than he even worked for Geeta nodded, although the worried look on his face never went away, simply watching his trainer from slightly further away.

//V\\

It was morning. He was wrapped in the covers, sweating up a storm. He checks his phone, remembering Geeta said she'd email him, only to realize it was already open.

'Strange...'

He didn't remember reading it, which is very unlike him. Usually, he'd be on-edge until he got work done, which was ironically never-ending for him.

He hauled himself out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. He sighed, not even knowing what he wanted to do anymore. He had time off, seeing as though he wasn't achieving anything at work right now.

//V\\

He was still in the bathroom, staring at the sink. He looked at his phone. A bit over 15 minutes had passed.

Why was he just standing here?

He didn't know anymore.

His body started shaking again. He was barely aware of time passing, but the one thing that was clear as day to him was this feeling of... desolation within him.

'Why you...?' He idly thought to himself after sinking down to sit on the floor.

Why you? One of the most normal people he knew? Someone who just wanted a simple life despite living in a world full of wonder and legend.

Why you? The only person to make his heart skip a beat, the only person to break through his poker face and make his attempts at hiding his amusement a challenge.

Why you? The only person to ever really ask questions about his life? The only one who was fine staying in with him doing nothing. The only one to make him want to go out just to offer you a good time out of town.

Why YOU, of all people? He just wanted a normal life. But when you came along and shook things up for him, you became his new normal.

And now you're gone. And he doesn't know what 'normal' even felt like anymore.

He hurts. He does, really and truly.

Here he was, lying on his bathroom floor. The much-too-small bathroom in the apartment he was considering moving out of with you, to start a life together. A life fit for two.

Here he was, lying in the fetal position, tears escaping his onyx eyes through shuttered breaths. Sure, he frequently had a good cry when alone, or even in your presence, but not like this.

No, he couldn't control it this time. He opened his mouth, nose blocked and making it hard to breathe, only for a loud wail to escape. He clutched his stomach, a pain coursing through him he hadn't felt since his last relationship fell apart.

But this was different.

He found you, a blessing, someone who fully understood what his busy schedule entailed, and you accepted him for it. You made changes to accommodate him, just as he made changes to accommodate you as well.

But now you're gone.

He couldn't even take solace in knowing you were out there somewhere, finding happiness even if it wasn't with him.

No, he wasn't sure what happened to you. Nobody did. All they know was a terrible battle took place that ended in you going missing.

He forced himself to his feet, pulling himself up with the help of his sink. He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror, already knowing what he'd see.

He commanded his phone, voice shaky and almost hard to understand.

"R-rotom Phone. Open text m-m-messages, please."

It did as it was told. He stared at the screen. Many messages of "Sorry!" or "Don't give up hope yet!" Many of these people were his closest companions, but none of them quite his favorite.

He scolled through to look at the last thing his favorite person sent him.

"I'm gonna pick up some rice balls for us from the Treasure Eatery omw back! Can't wait to chow down w/you!! 😋❤️🍙"

It wasn't anything dramatic. No "I love you", no fear, just... a simple promise. A promise saying your lives would go on, continuing as it always has. Only, it wouldn't, as he didn't know where you were, where his precious ray of sunshine ended up, if your light even continued to shine at all.

To him, that simple promise that you'd be there hurt more than anything.

His lungs couldn't take it anymore, choking down a pitiful hiccup as he desperately searched his medicine cabinet. Looking for... something. He barely even noticed the slight breeze, caused by Staraptor gently fanning his wings right outside the open bathroom door, a desperate attempt to calm him down.

He found it. Sleeping pills. He had no idea if they were even in date anymore, not caring at this point despite knowing he usually passed out without them, thus rarely taking any and not needing refills that often.

He opened the bottle, ignoring the cries of some of his Pokémon, who Staraptor had released by pecking at each one. He chose some he thought would help. Komala latched onto his arm, which barely slowed him down. Oricorio, who hopped up on the counter to cheer Larry up, or at least momentarily distract him, was ignored entirely.

Despite their best efforts, it was too late. He had already tossed back a few pills, shoving his face under the faucet to drink some water to aid his efforts.

Suddenly, everything went still.

His Pokémon watched in silence as he stood straight up, slightly wobbly. He still didn't look at himself, instead turning his sink off and turning off the lights, Komala holding his arm tighter and making a frustrated face, sensing something wrong with her trainer.

He walked into his bedroom, where Staraptor unleashed Altaria. Larry walked past them, however, instead going straight to his closet. He dug into the very back of it, looking for something hidden under countless things. He was in a delirious haze at this point, medicine not quite kicking in, but mentally exhausted already.

He won't remember this later.

He grips the safe he had, opening it after accidentally putting in the wrong code the first go around. It opens, revealing things important to him. Some documents, some sentimental items...

... a small box...

He grabs it, opening it to reveal a ring.

A woozy smile spreads across his face, but his eyes were unfocused, distant.

He shuffled out of the closet on his knees, staring at it. The only light he had on in the room, the lamp on his bedside table, hit the band just right despite how shaky he was. It shone, his bleary eyes heightening the effect. He thought of you, mind swirling with nothing but a feeling of bliss for a few beautiful moments, despite looking at the ring he may never have a chance to give you.

Staraptor cried out, alerting Altaria, who hopped over to the man. He slumped back, caught by the fluffy dragon, staring up at the ceiling.

His mind was blank. He had nothing to think about, really.

He tried desperately to remember why he was so tired, why he felt a sudden wave of pure exhaustion, when he thought of something.

Not the overdose.

Not his already restless nights full of going in and out of sleep.

No, he thought of nothing as his eyelids finally fell after he lost his panicked fight against sleep, except for one little thing.

'...why us...?'

#pokemon scarlet and violet #gender neutral reader #larry x reader #short x readers #angst #tragedy #spoilers #gym leader larry

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ladyofmelk · 4 months ago

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I barely ever talk about madame bovary but it's been on my mind for months and I still can't get over flaubert's prose, it's incredibly beautiful. The sea metaphors reminded me of latin and greek poets, the foreshadowings are so clever, the attention to detail is amazing and the way he paints certain scenes?? [spoilers]

the juxtaposition between rodolphe's pretentious flirting attempt and the country fair hosts in the background talking about god knows what so that it all results chaotic and pathetic?? the description of emma drinking with charles that is fundamentally a sum of her entire character?? fucking justin, that innocent boy who fell in love with her yet accidentally helped her kill herself and sneaked into the cemetery to weep at her grave?? BERTHE BOVARY'S TRAGIC FATE?? and oh my god don't get me started on the description of emma's extreme unction, high and holy images to portray the life of a late sinner... in short i love this book more then i often express.

i bought it last year but only picked it up again in july cause it just wasn't its time back then. ironically i bought it together with the master and margarita and it took me a while to get into it as well, and now boom they're my fav books ever. im glad i waited though, I think everything has a right time and place to be fully appreciated.

end of the yap, read madame bovary ands watch the 1978 italian adaptation, nighty night

#madame bovary

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marisandini-chu-blog · 2 years ago

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Is it just me? There's no way it's just me.

But the concept of Danny Phantom having Protection as his Core Obsession is NOT WOKE.

Let me elaborate, and I don't care who doesn't read it.

So... let me just say "Protection as Obsession" I love it. The plot device makes use the inhuman quality of Danny being half-ghost combine with his human decency.

But then I see a lot of fics starting to strech this concept as Angsty as possible which results to Danny suffering a symptom called "I must save people on a regular basis because of my compulsion" or "My core will hurt me and I'll suffer if I ignore a cry for help"

And immediately I'm like "Nopenopenopenope!" because that's not what makes Danny Fenton a hero.

Look, I get it. You want the angst. Heck, if the Phandom is a ghost, I'm pretty sure its obsession is Angst with a capital "A". That's how obsessive y'all are and I love you guys for it. And I also know the main core of the fic will always show that Danny is a True Hero.

Which is why I feel people are lost of what makes Danny Fenton a hero outside of the angst.

Which is the fact Danny choose to be a hero.

When Danny became a halfa, he hadn't realize it yet, but he was already acting like a hero before deciding to be one. In the first episode, and ectopuss was the first ghost he fought off screen, and considering his fast reaction, that might not have been the first ghost he fought.

In fact, considering Danny wasn't just hiding his Halfa status, but also the portal working and the existence of ghosts, he might have just been kicking ghosts back to the GZ way earlier but with the mindset of "HOLY CRAP I TURN TO GHOST! THERE ARE GHOST! MY PARENTS CAN'T KNOW THIS OR I MIGHT GET IN TROUBLE! I DON'T KNOW FOR WHAT BUT I WILL!"

The sort of teenage panic when you did something you weren't supposed to do and ended up trying to erase ALL the evidence.

I don't even think Danny knew he died. All he know was that he became something different that might cause him to be ostracise by his peers and family. He doesn't know how his condition might affect his future. He was 14 year old kid, and had a life-altering accident that would change how he live his life from that point forward and wasn't sure what to do with being able to go through walls, disappear, and fly.

Danny was 14 years old and was reasonable confused and scared for himself.

Him dying, was ironically, the last thing on his mind when he has living shit to do.

But then the Lunch Lady happen, and after facing the first sentient ghost, and at the end of the day finally had the revelation of "Hey, my powers aren't so bad and scary when I use them for a purpose, which is to help people." (Boy, is this boy dense. You've been doing that the whole time, Danny.)

Danny Fenton became a hero to feel good about himself. Danny Fenton became a hero to accept himself.

And I think that's such an important take away that a lot of fans miss, the fact that Danny Phantom is a persona for Danny to learn to be comfortable with all aspect of himself; whether it'd be his ghost abilities, his personality, his new-found responsibility, and identity. It's a self-discovery journey most teens finds him the most relatable, especially combine with a lot of episodes has Danny struggle to be accepted by the A-List before deciding he's better off being a better version of himself.

That's who Danny Phantom is.

So when fics degress his heroic actions into "obsession" that he has little control over, it makes Danny Phantom into a forced identity set by a younger version of himself to an older, jaded version of him that no longer being able to accept himself is awfully tragic to me.

Where am I going with this???

Oh yeah, so this is basically my rant for Obsession to be more flexible for a halfa so Danny can use the persona "Danny Phantom" as the best version of himself in more fics.

But that might be difficult with all the vivisiction-obsessed character out there, and you nutjobs (affectionately) running most of the fandom.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #is it just me #dp #dp fandom #thoughts #GIVE DANNY FENTON A BREAK #ghost obsessions #ghost core

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captain-noir · 2 years ago

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Previous anon but omg I didn't even see the reply to your post or the fact that you've apparently gotten infamous on Twitter 😭. I'm sorry for people being weird and misinterpreting of that, honestly I like reading your posts a lot because you don't attack Louis so much as point out the obvious ticks to his character and his hypocrisy which, a lot of fans don't seem to even want to talk about? Like fans go on about what a wonderfully complex character he is yet don't even want to go into the specifics of it, and analyzing a character's flaws and how they contribute to his decisions and how it affects HIS life when done correctly doesn't automatically translate to hating on said character....

oh its ok im made of sterner stuff i just find it funny that they're that incensed by an opinion on a fictional character. far be it for me to dictate how one enganges with media but i never understood people who tie up their entire identities around characters/ships. who are you fighting for? a figment of someone's imagination? you're going apeshit over words on paper brought to life by an actor doing a job? like louis is fascinating because he's a lying murderous hyprocrite who would sacrifice his child in a fire to save his spouse and then tend to that vacuous guilt so he can have something to nurse until the new baby arrives. he was a pimp for godsake, a slum lord who continued on even after 'making enough money to retire and be buried like a pharoah' continued that exploitation when he had other investements and means of income as. thats fascinating. thats good character work. it doesnt mean he wasnt a victim of abuse, it doesnt mean he didnt experience violent racism. he has dimensions! the biggest crime a character can commit is be boring and those losers want louis to be a boring hapless victim who just keeps falling into the clutches of these evil evil men and would someone think of the optics of this black character he has to be good why are you villaini[gunshot] ironically they miss the entire point of louis who is overly concerned by how he comes across so he rewrites his entire story and they buy into it. jacob anderson said he was glad that the jig was up and louis couldnt continue to paint himself as the tragic hero of the piece. if nothing else listen to jacob anderson. anway i predict season 2 is going to be rough for them when the show double downs on louis' bad choices re armand and lestat and claudia. when heads hit the floor literally and figuratively...phew

#yaz replies #louis de pointe du lac #we finally have an interesting and multifaceted black character as a lead in the definitive gothic work in the modern age #and you want me to be precious about how he comes across #i hope he gets worse

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mineofilms · 7 days ago

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Nihil sub sole novum

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From the End of the Beginning of this year, last year, most years, every year. Ah, a three-year odyssey, where time is less of a straight line and more of a spiral. If anything, these past few years have been a masterclass in the ironically absurd. Between the incompetence of systems that promise salvation (insurance, healthcare, politics, religion) and the existential dreariness of a body that stubbornly clings to life despite all odds, the journey feels less like progress and more like a forced march toward an inevitable, unremarkable end. One cannot help but wonder—has anything truly changed, or are we simply treading water in the flood of our own making? Our current way of life, metaphorical and literal, serves as a backdrop to this existential performative dance. The wreckage left in its wake mirrors not just the physical destruction but the internal chaos of living in an age where security is fleeting, satisfaction a myth, and self-importance via social media dominates. The grand dream of perfection—whether in homes, bodies, relationships, or ideologies—is swiftly eroding, leaving behind the stench of human vulnerability. Yet, in the face of this, there's a curious resignation. We become more connected than ever before while we are more disconnected than ever before. Defies logic, but here we are. The repairs are slow, the bills pile up, but at least there's a sense of grim humor in the absurdity of it all. One adapts, kicks rocks barefoot, to the constant erosion, which, in its own right, becomes a form of rebellion against the very systems that demand our submission.

The steady march of time continues, dragging more medical frustrations, loss, and the weary realization that life is as much about enduring as it is about achieving anything meaningful. Health problems, relationships, and even political ideologies become so much noise against the backdrop of the real question: What’s the Point? So, as the years accumulate, what is left to do but press forward, not in hope or optimism, but because time, relentless in its ticking, doesn’t really offer an alternative. The absurdity, after all, is the only thing that’s truly constant. Is your life a carefully constructed narrative, or are you simply improvising a tragic farce with occasional comedic beats? A theater of existence through a lens. From hurricanes that rip apart our homes and finances to the inevitable decay of the human body. I am always pondering the inherent futility of attempting to control the uncontrollable. Existential dilemmas emerge from mundane struggles: rebuilding without the tools or even a blueprint for the tools becomes a symbol of a compromised life in a dream where inflation ensures the rich get richer and the rest get a crash course in survival. Oh, that isn’t a dream. That’s been a reality for most of us. There’s a sharp turn into the familiar friend of entropy. Here lies the ironic absurdity of caregiving: futile efforts to prolong a life that ultimately evaporates into oblivion. Yet, I welcome musings of AI, conceptual horror, and the darkly comedic nature of politics, whether life has meaning, but whether meaning itself is the cruelest joke of all. They say “live and learn,” but if one hasn’t learned, did they ever live? Whenever I heard a “saying,” and it starts with “they say.” Who the hell are “they?” It makes me want to hunt down, “they,” slap them in the head.

Welcome in social media, the internet’s great experiment in collective brain rot. What begins as communication to gain different perspectives turns into tribalism in online spaces evolving into unhealthy internet subcultures, where trolls and influencers battle for supremacy in a digital coliseum of irrelevance. Internet idealism now reduced to a sandbox for the trivial and the vindictive. Does it even matter whether a troll, a cultist or elitist wins the argument if the platform itself is a dumpster fire of collective word vomit from narcissists? Granted elitists wouldn’t be on social media all that much. They are too busy ‘eliting’ themselves to more monies. When you have loads of cash, does one even want or need social media? Woke or unwoke, left or right, preaching the Lord’s name or not; these labels serve merely as masks for the fear that underpins human existence: the terror of being forgotten in a universe that never cared in the first place. The message—a searing reminder that the more we “connect,” the more we expose the gaping void within ourselves while disconnecting from the people that are actually in our reality. We try to venture out. One can only wave their hands so much to get someone else’s attention. If they choose to ignore that and you know deep down you were forward with that concept of communication. It isn’t on you to care. You attempted, they played dumb. Why would you accept that from any situation or person? The floodwaters of nature are matched only by the flood of systemic incompetence, with insurance premiums rising as fast as the costs of rebuilding. The house, much like life itself, becomes a metaphor for the disillusionment we all feel: repairs are never as simple as they seem, and some losses—like the pool cage and later the entire pool lanai—are just too damn expensive to replace. Yet, here we are and instead of descending into despair, we just realize life goes on, even when the dream moves slowly towards a singularity. You can’t save everything, but you can at least salvage the absurdity of it all, laugh and curse the fake God in the sky.

These reflections are framed not by sorrow, but by existential absurdism: does it matter? Does the universe even care a blip within a blip within a blip within an ocean, within a glass, on a planet that was swallowed by a giant space whale even care? In a world where the system is rigged and the body betrays you, the only thing left to do is keep moving forward—until the final, inevitable reset. Whether sudden or prolonged, life and the death of that life is just the final joke in a single frame of reference full of bad punchlines.

With that said 2025 is going to be a little different, at least in how I attack my writings. I have been so busy with some other things that I haven’t been able as much to work on my own stuff. I am slowly but actively taking all my blogs and converting them to audio/video presentations. They are not podcasts. I am just taking the written blogs or essays using an AI voiceover to read it with some sort of video attached to it. I like the audio spectrum. It’s like a "visualizer" for audio that allows you to see a visual for the sound, making it a neat little creative tool. I will be producing a real music video for the band I work with. Going low tech with that as well. Going for a 90s grunge or metal vibe of the time. I have a lot of audiobooks to get through this year. Many that deal with black hole fiction and stories revolving around time dilation. I want to put out a few short-stories this year as well and work on something bigger. As of right now I do not have a real writing schedule like I usually work from, but my next essay will be on labels. What they are and why they are important. We have had labels longer than sugar. I will probably write a lot of reviews on these science fiction books. The more of these more existential fictions the more it will draw me into thinking about reality and how I want to formulate my own stories. I got some solid ideas that I feel like I want to talk about. I think short-stories with expansion in mind is the best way for my brain to operate when writing. I will also continue to doing tech-style essays on some of the odd computer stuff I tend to tackle. So yeah, 2025 is gearing up. I am glad I am able to think about this in a healthy place in my brain and not have too many delusions of grandeur.

As I look ahead to 2025, the creative landscape feels like a vast, uncharted universe—full of potential, ready for exploration. Whether it’s blending audio-visual projects, diving into the abstract depths of existential fiction, or tackling the nuanced power of labels, the journey is ongoing. But, like a supernova, I’m aware that growth and creation are processes of expansion and contraction, marked by moments of clarity amidst chaos. It’s a balance between the infinite and the finite—an ever-evolving dance of ideas and reality. Here’s to the art of becoming.

Nihil sub sole novum Latin for (Nothing new under the sun) by David-Angelo Mineo 12/31/2024 1,467 Words

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the-blivyverse · 1 year ago

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Have I talked about her before? Idk.... Buuuuuuuuuut, I FINALLY have a name for the character I codenamed Artist for a while! Her name is Tess. Mostly got the idea from how younger me was obsessed with that name and wanted to go by it (I don't want to anymore but I still think it's a very pretty name). Her last name has been lost to time and she never really cared about it enough to remember. ... I'm mostly using that as an exuse not to come up with one 👍

So as her code name already explains, Tess is an artist. She's also been dead for a good millenia now if not longer. The place she occupies doesn't really keep track of time sooooo......

One of the solid foundations of my idea for her is that she was a very normal and average person when she was alive but she was happy. Like she lived out on the countryside some place peaceful and nothing big or crazy every really happened to her. She just painted and sketched and maybe made jam and soup. A real cottagecore life right there. She also never did anything with her art. Not to say that's a bad thing. She just drew for herself and made art because it made her happy. She also was very good friends with her neighbors and all that jazz. Bottom line, her life was completely peaceful and overall, not that exciting but she doesn't regret anything and in her eyes, she had a good life.

Now the real juicy interesting stuff happens after she dies. Idk how she dies like idk if I want her to die of old age or have her die youngish due to some tragic accident that was no one's fault. I'll work on that later....

So when Tess dies, something in the afterlife and dimensional continium fucks up real bad and her soul accidently ends up in a place outside reality and the land of the deceased. I don't have a name for it so I kind of just call it the Library but I might end up making that its actual name idk.

The Library is basically like this BIIIIIIIIIIIIIG infinite archive of books that hold the history of all dimensions (when I say all dimensions I mostly mean just information on all my other stories but depending on the context and what I write about concerning the Library it can include information on dimensions and worlds of media I'm hyperfixated on too). And the caretaker and owner of the Library is the Librarian who also still needs a name but Librarian is her code name right now. Literally all I have for how she looks is that she kind of looks like an owl and she has those librarian glasses with the chains on them. I doubt I've talked about her before and I'm too lazy to go and check but she's a god and her godly profession is maintaining the library and recording the events of different worlds and filing said information away. She's also got this observation room where she can spectate on the ongoings of different worlds and it has some mystical big pool or crystal ball or something in it idk she's still a big WIP and I'm still ironing out all the details and you knowwwww.... Long story short, she's one of those beings that has a big archive containing the history of everything and everyone like the Chronicler from The Legend of Spyro. Oh also, important, her library can't tell the future and only the present and the past. She also rolls her eyes at the notion of future sight.

Sooooooo Tess shows up here and she's understandably confused and the Librarian is like "You're not supposed to be here who the hell are you????" so she puts Tess in some room like a kid who was just found wandering lost around a building and has been put in a breakroom while somone goes and tries to find their parents. I don't have this next bit fine lined yet, but she ends up leaving the room and poking around in the books on some world and gets some inspiration for a drawing and draws out a scene from this supposed innocent little book which she doesn't know are actual real events in some world. And the Librarian sees it and is like "... Huh. That's a pretty good drawing actually." and one thing leads to another and Tess is allowed to stay in the Library and she and the Librarian become friends. So now Tess spends eternity keeping the Librarian company and watching/reading events happen in worlds and makes paintings and drawings of them whenever inspiration or motivation strikes. She even has a section of the library for her art gallery.

She also makes friends with the sentinels in the library(basically a bunch of magical securty guards that serve as a defense against intruders) and chats and plays board games with them on occasion when they aren't busy. Board games can range from chess to a whole slew of other games she's learned about from different dimensions. She becomes very skilled at pretty much all board and card games in existence after a while. Not to mention her art skills continue to improve over the thousands of years she's been in the library.

I'm unsure when exactly she starts doing this, but she eventually gets the privelage of visiting worlds with certain restrictions in place. She can't interfere in the plots of those worlds or tell inhabitants of said worlds things they aren't supposed to know about or anything like that. She also has to be careful when visiting worlds because the only places she's able to go are places within liminal space. She's still dead and if she were to wander outside a liminal space while in a world, she'd be at the mercy of the laws of death of that world and the Librarian would be unable to help her as it would be outside her juristiction as a god after that.

It used to just be an idea but I think I most likely will end up making her become a god of creativity, wonder, art, and the joy and happiness that comes with creating at some point. She'll no longer have to worry about getting stuck in some other world's afterlife after that. She'll also be like, the new dawn of creator gods when that happens. I'm too lazy to go into detail on that right now...

#tess #librarian

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coinshotmisting · 2 years ago

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GOD DAMN IT I'm so done with Emily Axford I try not to be a hater on main but every decision she makes in D20 seasons pisses me off so fucking much god damn it I want to break something

and I feel like there's something I'm missing cause everyone ACTS like she's a great storyteller but the off theme choices she makes keep building up and building up and I'm fucking sick of it

FUCK IT I'm gonna rant, sorry everyone

Fig: this character is a satire of teen rebellion. Fig is consistently an asshole to everyone around her with no regard to how her actions affect other people's emotional state. which is intentional, and a fine flaw for a character to have. But she never grows to differentiate good rebellion from bad, forcing Brennan to work himself in knots to not make her arc's theme 'teenagers with trauma are cruel assholes who need to learn how to behave' because that theme sucks

Lady Featherfowl: great start to a character. asshole party animal from a middling family. love it. BUT OH NO PLOT TWIST she's actually one of the good nobles who fell in love with a commoner and now demands the ability to simultaneously enjoy her elevated position and continue to love the mortal who's subject to her and her peers' whims

Sundry Sydney: not too many criticisms tbh, I like her. except that her story arc felt entirely disconnected from the other players. her being part of a crew didn't really thematically contribute, Emily just very clearly had a story she wanted to tell, and when that story got wrapped up too she took the first plot point Brennan threw her way and made Sydney all about that

Sophia Lee: it's been a while since I watched UC s2 tbh, don't remember what happened. Sophia is fine for the most part, I just don't really find her relatable or compelling to watch

Little Red: playing a pre-teen in the horror season? really? it doesn't help that the character barely does anything to play to the genre. and there's so many little moments this season that made me fully stop watching. EMILY WANTS little red to go on this weird puberty/accepting death metaphor thing where she becomes death, but is clearly uncomfortable giving that any moral weight. She's yet to struggle against characters who don't want to die, and, ironically, the most morally bad 'deaths' they've contended with are the death of death.

spoilers for newest ep btw

and then AND THEN little red has her Baba Yaga trial. some vauge mention about going to kill some chickens for dinner. perfect. PERFECT. Reds going to have to face the core conflict of her arc. How do people relate to death, when it can be both tragic and good? How do we understand it without minimizing the tragedy, and how do we mourn it without rejecting its necessity.

And my first thought was simple. Make sure the chickens don't want to die. give them voices, make her roll, just give off the vibe, whatever. but make it clear that in order for little red to 'succeed,' in order for her to accept her role as death or whatever the fuck, she also has to accept the cruel, unyielding, and dark part of it.

perfect little scene. she doesn't? great setback on her quest to self realization. she has a new specific topic to grapple with, and immediate, material conflict. She does? her character has become morally ambiguous in a tangible way, and her companions and the narritive need to wrestle with that. sometimes people die too young. sometimes people die tragic, unnecessary deaths.

But then. BUT THEN. Brennan hits her with the path. boom mirror of where you started. great. THERES LITTLE RED, STILL LITTLE. oh my god, amazing. and I instantly had an idea, but wasn't sure if they would go through with it. Have grandma's house look a loooot like a chicken coop. cause Emily has cast red as a fusion of the protagonist and antagonist of her own story. at the end of this scene, the antagonist side will dominate. so the story seems clear. Red has to kill someone else's grandma. she's hungry, or out of obligation, or for her friends, whatever. but if she's the wolf now, if she's DEATH, then the trial should be obvious.

instead, she goes for an nice walk, makes it clear that her conflict is still accepting death of a loved one, then meeting a grandma who died peacefully and happily, and who is happy to see her.

then the icing on the fucking cake? she has zero conflict with the actual chicken slaughtering part. it's a joke where she brutally kills more than necessary.

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!

you don't get to pull a heartfelt scene where you struggle with the tragedy of death, where you act as gentle ferry for souls that have reached their appointed time, then go *hehe I'm a wolf omnomnom I love to kill*

it's just such a rejection of the actually important part of the scene. no even vauge attempt to tie the two INCREDIBLY THEMATICALLY RELATED actions together at all.

litterally I so often have to pause D20 episodes cause one of the players pulls some shit like this and it rips a part of me out. the part of me that's invested, that wants this story to mean something feels crushed whenever this shit happens.

D20 is great. I love it. dropout is the only subscription service I pay for rn. but in its exceptional quality, it's proven to me that tabletop rpgs just simply don't work as a proper medium for storytelling, at least not the traditional GM / Player structure.

again. sorry for the rant

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sonxofxgondor · 5 months ago

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Far from the clash of steel sword or the scratch of pen to paper, the disciplines of combat training and arithmetic practice, horse and hay had become Boromir's closest companions, the methods of his learning in recent. On the leery command of Denethor - tradition upheld but certainly plentiful in doubt - gray eyes somewhat cold, the corners to his lips lowered in snarl and voice colored in mumble. From Minas Tirith to the land of the Elves, Rivendell, satchel packed and boots only slightly scuffed. Carried what was needed, only; the essentials taken with all else left to home, tokens of boyhood still placed upon bedchamber shelves, all about the hardwood of its floors. Kin wished goodbye with firm shake of the hand, the nod of the head, a kiss to the cheek for Faramir, toward an unknown adventure did Boromir go, his heart excited but so, too, a bit nervous.

Welcomed in their kind ways, less physical than he was accustomed to, affection shared rather in words than touch, the Elves were gracious hosts, the house stationed in Rivendell was warm and charming. Fashioned of stone and iron - curved roof and oval windows - surrounded by grasses so green, emerald and jade sprouted from brown dirt, flowers and trees alike bloomed in all shades. A cabin centered around paths and bends in the road, the Elf named Rocheru was as kind as had been described, the keeper of the home and friend to all horses. Shorter than others of his elder kith, lack of muscle replaced by the skill of quickness, lean in body, skin sparkled to the ray of gold, pale but delicately toned by the sun. Subtle scarlet upon his head cropped short - unlike the Elves that Boromir had come to pass and acquaint with - whispers spoke to tragic tale, unasked but surely made curious by, wide labradorite-tinted glance always watchful to the trasses every moment they passed.

Rocheru to be his teacher, lecturer and tutor, the days since leaving Minas Tirith were received in dedication, the sweat and labor of work. Cool wind still across the skies; onto skin not yet burned in red, palms sore but able to do as was instructed. Weather comfortably endured, summertime heat had not settled. Beckoned just beyond the hills and valleys of Rivendell, teased but refused to cross over. Brightened the petals that had been burst open, the rivers of black fur that coated the horses in the stables, spots and stripes, white and tawny also. Creatures of many breed and family line, gentle animals who Boromir tried to befriend, wanted nothing more than their affinity. Slender fingers brushed over their backs, manes that danced in the breeze when it came into the pasture. Stock that were seen in Gondor on rare occasion; times of war, times of passion, harbored in only a handful of stables and none else.

Darkened locks put behind both ears, shirt and pant stained in the aftermath of hay and messy stable, unmentioned but smelled to their true cause, Boromir finished some of his morning chores. Chest rose and fallen in steady rhythm, light sweat gathered nearest his brow, a sigh of relief escaped him once he stepped into the clearing. Gazed into the space as if made anew - listened as birds made their songs, played their fiddles and swayed to tunes. Breathed deeply, in through the nose and out of the mouth, stretched his arms and then began on the walk toward his next task, the always admired face of his teacher.

"Rocheru! Rocheru, sir, I have finished with mucking out the stables!" Boromir called, the smile to his lips a true one, blush on his cheeks. "Sir! I think I have made progress, also! The small mare, the one so often skittish of me, she approached me just this hour. Not enough to touch, but she did come close! Oh, sir! I have faith that, come the end of this week, she and I will have made that step. Would she, perhaps, fancy an apple slice? If I may have your permission, I would like to bring her such a gift. She is so fair and sweet; I rather like her, Rocheru, sir. Truly, I do! If father allowed I a horse in Minas Tirith, I would want none other than a horse like her."

Arrived at the bench, wooden carved, considerate to posture, proud did the child of sixteen stand, hands on his hips, laugher almost bubbled to the surface.

"What shall I do next?" Boromir asked, attention fixated on Rocheru, the tea in his grasp and the sharpness of his features. "Do you wish me to gather the horses fresh water? Wash the tools? Mend the feed bags? I know my state does seem like I am anything but ready, but I promise, sir, I am! Say the word, teacher, and I will go. Captain of the Guard, he remarks at my ability to follow orders. Says I am one of the best - though, too eager, all the same. I cannot help it! Once I have found something I enjoy, it consumes me whole. Always been the opposite of my younger brother Faramir in that way, you know. He's always so calm, so relaxed and poised. Much like you, sir, if I may say so. He would love it here. Just as much as I, surely."

"Oh. Gods above! I've done it again. Rambled on... Cook says I have acquired that trait from my mother. She could speak for hours, especially so in her younger years. She'd spend the time speaking to anyone, everyone, with no distinction between common-person or nobility-folk. But she, too, knew when to keep quiet, to rest. I have yet to master that... I apologize, sir. I will try to be more mindful of my... conversational length. Now, I will do as my mother once did, rest."

@sonxofxgondor

Imladris stables, nestled against the forest wall were located some distance from the main houses, where the bustle of the house rarely reached and instead the sounds of birds singing and tree leaves rustling in the wind accompanied the idyllic view. The main building was built of pale stone, with the same sharply arching roof and care put into its design.

The individual stalls in the stables of Imladris had no doors; the horses were free to come and go as they pleased, whenever they needed shelter or attention from the Horse Master. On one side of the long building the impressive, oak double door opened towards the yard, with the tack building, barns, and Rocheru's house there, nestled into the edge of the forest that wrapped around the yard as if in an embrace. On the other side of the stable building, the double door was ever opened, leading onto a wide path, and further down an array of paddocks, all open but not all used at the same time, so the grasses may always be fresh and plentiful for horses to graze on.

Though the horses spent most of the time out in pasture, they still arrived each morning and evening to have their share of grain, and they made use of the stables when it rained or when they wanted to hide from the blazing sun. Thus, the stable still needed regular cleaning, and for all the stalls to have fresh hay and water. Tending to that, along with the feeding, was a large portion of the morning chores, for which Rocheru now had a helper.

The young lad sent from Gondor was eager and bright, with a kind heart and a head open to knowledge. These were qualities most auspicious for the future steward of the kingdom of men and Rocheru was glad for the opportunity to continue tending to them.

He waited for the boy in the stable yard, sat on a bench there and enjoying both the crisp, morning sun, still pleasantly warm rather than scorching hot as it would become later in the day, as well as his morning tea sipped from a blue and white ceramic cup.

#quentafeanorians #Muse \\ Rocheru #Verse \\ Childhood Verse #(( Already adore them together <3

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dramavixen · 2 years ago

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Chang Heng: The Man Who Deserves to Be a Male Lead, But Absolutely Should Not Be One

(i.e., I found the opportunity to dunk on Ten Miles of Peach Blossom’s Ye Hua after spending far too long harboring a simmering resentment for that giant man baby)

**Spoilers for: Love Between Fairy and Devil and Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms

I was around 19 years old when I watched the renowned xianxia drama 三生三世十里桃花 (Three Lives, Three Worlds, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms, A.K.A. Eternal Love or TMOPB for short). I was smitten with the worldbuilding and music, but especially with the male lead. To this day, Ye Hua holds the crown as one of xianxia’s most beloved characters. Not that he did anything super cool—unless you consider bawling over his dead wife revolutionary.

It was a couple years and many more dramas later that I realized I had been conned. Beneath the pretty tears and fantastic dubbing, Ye Hua represents an absolute disaster of a man, an apocalypse for the poor lady on the receiving end of his heart-eyes. How could I, a supposedly mature adult, have been so blind to his deadly flaws (ironic, given what he does to his wife)?

This epiphany blessed me with an instinctual aversion to the xianxia genre. Everywhere I looked, I could only see the shadow of Ye Hua within the male characters who took up his torch—none of these xianxia men are worth shit. And then I learned that the same often applies to xianxia women. All of them need an intervention.

So when Love Between Fairy and Devil’s Chang Heng graced my screen and started exuding extreme Ye Hua vibes, could you blame me for thinking “oh hell no”? I was not ready to get hurt again. Over the course of the drama, I learned to heal and love again, but because of a single caveat: Chang Heng is destined to never get the girl.

---

The Walking Red Flag

As with all good science experiments, we need to establish the control element. Ye Hua will act as that today. What about Ye Hua is so unforgivable, yet allows him to remain as one of the faces of xianxia?

TMOPB was met with explosive popularity upon its release in 2017 and remains one of the most well-known C-dramas to this day. It’s not a reach to say that its success prompted the wave of xianxia dramas released in its wake, nor to claim that its influence inspired a new formula for the genre’s plot structure. It wasn’t entirely original in concept, but its impact on pop culture shouldn't be understated.

The drama’s primary selling point is the love story between esteemed goddess Bai Qian and Heavenly Crown Prince Ye Hua. Through a series of unfortunate events, Bai Qian loses her memory and powers, becoming the “mortal” Su Su. Ye Hua is the smitten deity who really, really wants to be with Su Su even though their relationship is strictly forbidden due to Reasons That Definitely Exist and Are Valid.

Dramatic irony is also at play. Bai Qian and Ye Hua are betrothed to one another long before they fall in love in the mortal realm, but are unaware that their beloved and their future spouse are one and the same person. Their love is essentially a fated relationship disguised as a wild goose chase.

Once Su Su “dies,” Ye Hua deteriorates into a lovesick shell of himself. His longing, guilt, and grief over her death have since established themselves as the picturesque representation of tragic elements inherent to the xianxia genre. Ever since Ye Hua did it, everyone and their grandmas think it’s the new hip thing to get their lovers killed and then cry over it.

Ye Hua could take one step into my house and I would kick him to the curb, install new locks, and file for a restraining order. I fear this man far more than I fear the typical drama villain. Because imagine what he’d do to someone he hates, if this is what he does to the person he loves:

I’ll give him a pass on some of his early flirting techniques, which includes shenanigans like injuring himself to elicit her care and attention and also sleeping in her bed without her express knowledge. (Off to a promising start, aren’t we?) He's a lovestruck fool, ignorant to proper methods to woo the ladies.

After Su Su takes an interest in him, he tricks her into marrying him. Fine, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But he doesn’t see anything wrong with marrying her while she’s unaware of his true identity. He doesn’t even pipe up about it after she gets pregnant. Meanwhile, Su Su marries him because she’s lonely and trusts that he’s someone who can always be there for her—you know, like a good spouse tends to be. He is not that.

Ye Hua thinks he can outsmart the heavens with his amoeba brain and tries to fake his own death so he can be with Su Su. He fails miserably.

Su Su finds out who Ye Hua truly is after she’s captured by his Heavenly Lord grandpa, who fully intends on punishing her for their relationship since she’s a “mortal” and easy to bully.

Ye Hua fears that openly expressing his love for Su Su will get her killed. To avoid this, he comes up with the ingenious solution of pulling the whole “I have to treat you like garbage to protect you” bullshit. Dearest Ye Hua, please name me one scenario in any drama where you saw this method working out well enough for you to try it for yourself.

For obvious reasons, Su Su starts doubting that Ye Hua truly loves her. This doubt peaks after manipulative female support character Su Jin accuses Su Su of pushing her off the Zhu Xian Tai (“Fairy-Executing Terrace”) in an attempt to kill her, a plot that results in Su Jin going blind. Ye Hua, in another effort to “protect” Su Su, personally digs out Su Su’s eyeballs as retribution—even though he knows that she didn’t do anything wrong, and even as she sobs and begs him not to do it.

Blind and abandoned, Su Su explores the palace every day through touch and commits its layout to memory. After giving birth to her son, she uses that knowledge, finding and leaping off the Zhu Xian Tai to kill herself.

She doesn’t die, of course. She regains her memories as a goddess, but is so tormented by what she endured that she decides to wipe away the memories of the entire relationship. Then they reunite and fall in love again, yada yada yada.

All of that content makes for great angst. I still need a tissue box or two to make it through the episode where Su Su throws herself off the Zhu Xian Tai. If anything, my frustration toward Ye Hua makes me cry even harder because goodness, the audacity of this asshole. He acts purely out of selfishness, desiring to keep Su Su at his side at any cost, even if she’s the one paying it. This isn’t to say that Ye Hua gets off scot-free. He also willingly takes punishments in Su Su’s stead and wants to follow her after she dies. But so what? Does his suffering reduce Su Su’s pain at all? Does that change any of what he does to her? And he doesn’t even get her eyes back for her afterward; she has to do it herself!

What makes Ye Hua truly irredeemable in my eyes is that he still ends up with Bai Qian. Her forgiveness is only natural, as her love for him exceeds her hate. That sounds romantic, but only if you ignore how he caused her enough pain for her to prefer death. And even if she forgives him, why does she have to take him back? Unless she so desperately needs a reason to jump off the Zhu Xian Tai again.

While I understand that the show is more marketable when the lead couple has a “happy” ending, it doesn’t sit well with me that that’s the end result for Ye Hua and Bai Qian. Ye Hua expresses remorse, tons of it; otherwise how could so many viewers readily forgive him? But it’s simply not true that once we show enough remorse, we should earn back the things and people we lost. Once some things are over, they’re truly over. If that applies to anyone, it should definitely apply to someone like Ye Hua.

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Wake Him Up Inside

And so we arrive on the subject of Chang Heng. Oh, Chang Heng. I see his tiny face and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and feed him s’mores.

Chang Heng’s character shares many foundational similarities with Ye Hua: he crushes on someone while unaware that she’s actually his long-lost fiancée, has too many responsibilities, and struggles to balance those two problems. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the writers had Ye Hua in mind while creating Chang Heng. Every single word of wisdom he utters is a not-so-subtle jab at Ye Hua’s erring ways. It’s the sweet honey of vindication, I tell you.

Before he gets to that point of self-awareness, Chang Heng treads the same path as Ye Hua. He wipes Xiao Lanhua’s memories of him without her permission. He doesn’t dare reveal his feelings for her because that would be counter to his duties. Even after painstakingly creating medicine to help with her dysfunctional spiritual root, he ends up pretending that he never did such a thing. In his deepest subconscious, he believes his love for Xiao Lanhua is a weakness. The main difference between him and Ye Hua is that Chang Heng has the decency to distance himself beforehand, knowing that he is in no position to have a relationship with her.

Two things prevent Chang Heng from transforming into Ye Hua 2.0: 1) he isn’t the male lead and 2) Dongfang Qingcang’s existence.

Imagine a world in which Chang Heng is the male lead. When Xiao Lanhua is accused of being a traitor, he would almost certainly pull a Ye Hua move and negotiate with his brother. “I know she’s innocent, but I also know that you must punish her, so please just spare her life”—that type of thing. (The reason I think this isn’t just possible but probable is because later in the actual drama, he enthusiastically agrees to a plan in which he and Rong Hao would kill Xiao Lanhua’s body with DFQC trapped inside, and simply build Xiao Lanhua a new shell to live in. Bro, what the hell.) Because Chang Heng doesn’t fully understand how useless he is, that would be the limit of what he can do for her. He would seriously believe that he has no other choice in the matter.

But someone else is the male lead. When DFQC comes along to rescue Xiao Lanhua, there’s no compromise to be had. He’s taking her with him and that’s the end of it. I, for one, have never felt so validated as when DFQC beats Chang Heng to the floor and then just...walks away, like he’s making a stop at the supermarket.

DFQC: Are you going to save her? Or are you going to save your Shuiyuntian?

That someone can behave this way is a major culture shock to Chang Heng. How can someone just do whatever they want? What about rules? Watching DFQC whisk Xiao Lanhua away serves as loudest of wake-up calls: DFQC intends to put Chang Heng in his place, showing him that he does have a choice in the matter. But he can neither defeat DFQC nor abandon his responsibilities. Until he can overcome those obstacles, Xiao Lanhua will always be out of his reach.

While Xiao Lanhua sparks love in Chang Heng with her desire to protect him, DFQC is the one who makes him question his priorities. Exactly what should he be doing that he currently isn’t? How is it possible that he’s a god of war, yet can’t protect the one he loves?

Chang Heng realizes that distancing himself from Xiao Lanhua accomplishes nothing but forcing her further out of reach (proud of him for realizing that one because let’s be honest, we don’t love Chang Heng for his brain cells). He also has an extreme edge to him, so he hops straight over to doing the exact opposite, rebelling against the arbitrary rules of heaven, constantly trying to bring Xiao Lanhua home, and openly expressing his feelings for her. Later, even if it means becoming a mortal, even if it means letting her go to someone else, nothing is off-limits.

---

The Fine Line Between Helplessness and Incompetence

A lot of xianxia plots depend on characters being helpless and subject to the fates. In my childhood memories, xianxia dramas commonly had at least one main character who was a low-ranked human or deity. Bullied and unable to fend for themselves, their journeys to improve themselves and protect what mattered to them were ones that touched and inspired people who could relate to their common identities. These characters aren’t given many choices in such situations, yet they consistently choose to fight back.

This zero-to-hero trope has become less convincing over time as the trend turned into telling the stories of “chosen ones.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, except now all of these dramas are trying to convince us that these gods with unlimited power are...powerless. They’re all hero-to-even-bigger-hero tales, if you will.

It’s not impossible for gods to be forced into making certain decisions, but it’s quite rare that a xianxia persuades me into finding it believable. If we look at Ye Hua again, he gets outsmarted by some random woman who's jealous of his wife. He also snubs Su Su to placate an old man. You’re trying to tell me that that’s the best a dragon crown prince can do? If I lived in the heavens, I’d live in fear of a revolution every day if those are the capabilities of my future leader.

When it comes down to it, Ye Hua is not helpless like our heroes of old—he’s incompetent. And it’s hard to sympathize with a guy who loses everything not because outside forces overpower him, but because he himself sucks major ass.

LBFAD, a drama where every one of the three leads is someone of super high rank, is the only xianxia in recent years which puts into perspective how huge power translates into huge responsibility, and why that pushes characters into feeling like things are out of their control. Be it DFQC’s and Chang Heng’s duties to their people or Xiao Lanhua’s destiny to save all life, it’s hard for any of them to decide when to give in and when to rebel against the heavy weight of destiny.

Chang Heng is a pleasant mixture of both helplessness and incompetence. Is it not endearing the way DFQC easily crushes him, yet he still goes flying into enemy territory proclaiming that he’s going to save Xiao Lanhua? I don’t know where his confidence is coming from and I don’t think he does either, but it’s heartwarming to watch him try and fail with flying colors.

When Chang Heng hops over to Cangyan Sea to bring Xiao Lanhua home without a solid plan, DFQC is again the guy to remind Chang Heng that he still needs to do better. Good intentions are a solid starting point, but are worthless if he can’t convert them into something practical.

CH: Xiao Lanhua, is someone threatening you? Do not be afraid. Tell me, and I will protect you.

DFQC!XLH: No one has threatened me, and no one has forced me. [...] I am also no longer the inconsequential lowly spirit that you all take me for, nor am I a traitor or a spy in collusion with the Moon Tribe. I can happily be myself. Compared to my days in Shuiyuntian, when anyone could step all over me, this is over a hundred times better. [...] Suppose that I go back with you. Can you guarantee that you will clear my name from collusion with the Moon Tribe? Suppose that your Lord Yun Zhong insists that he will not pardon me; would you dare go against him? Suppose that he uses that heavenly rule nonsense to ask you and force you; could you promise my safety? Suppose that anyone dares to harm me or blame me; could you reduce them to ashes?

Aside from making Xiao Lanhua understand that Chang Heng’s mainly just a pretty face, this interrogation forces Chang Heng to consider what’s at stake. Protecting Xiao Lanhua and following the rules are mutually exclusive decisions. His struggle to circumvent this issue isn’t trivial, seeing as it’s challenging his entire belief system. But he can either start questioning what he’s capable of, or let Xiao Lanhua get hurt again.

What stands out to me about this interaction is when DFQC also tacks on that Chang Heng “cannot even tell [her] something [she] wants to hear”; that he won’t even claim that he can keep her safe. Maybe I’m just that jaded, but his refusal to tell pretty lies is what I adore about Chang Heng. It’s a matter of life and death, and if he can’t promise her safety, he won’t. If he lies to her and to himself, then he could never become the straight-shooting Chang Heng we all know and love.

DFQC might be his inspiration, but Rong Hao being simultaneously Chang Heng’s best friend (potentially more; oh what could’ve been) and a foil to his character is an enormously overlooked dynamic. Rong Hao frequently tells Chang Heng that they’re the same type of people, that their love for their respective ladies is what corners them into making less-than-optimal decisions. Each time, Chang Heng’s instinct is to rebuff him.

RH: Because the two of us are the same. I have no choice. And you, ultimately, will also have no choice.

CH: You do not have a choice? You chose to conspire with my brother, to disturb matters, to catalyze the three realms’ largest war in the last tens of thousands of years!

Chang Heng’s newfound philosophy is that everyone has a choice. You may be dealt an awful hand, but you can still choose to play or fold. His friend’s decision-making comes off as foolish arrogance to him.

But Rong Hao is right in one respect. They are similar: if Ye Hua represents an alternate universe version of Chang Heng in which DFQC doesn’t exist, then Rong Hao is suffering a version of Chang Heng’s future in which Xiao Lanhua/Xi Yun sacrifices herself for the greater good, yet is forgotten by those she dies for. Chang Heng can remain optimistic because the person he loves is still alive and loved by others. Rong Hao is comparatively hopeless. He can only wait to witness the impending devastation before realizing that the harder choice is oftentimes the better one.

We will never know how Chang Heng would react if in Rong Hao’s exact position. But whatever he would choose to do, he would not absolve himself from responsibility by claiming that he had no other choice. The results may be out of his hands, but the initial choice is what he can decide for himself.

Chang Heng reminds me much more of traditional xianxia protagonists. Every obstacle they face only drives them to seek enough strength to change the status quo. While Chang Heng may never win against DFQC, he’ll keep trying. (Or he’ll convert him into a brother; that works too.) Everyone will say he doesn’t have a choice, but he wants one and he will get one. Ah, my heart is so full. I don’t want perfect characters. I want characters who strive to do better, especially in a world that pushes them down, and he suits that to a tee.

Meanwhile, Ye Hua over here blinds his wife due to...societal expectations? My god. He just keeps getting worse the more that I think about him.

---

I’m Sorry. But At Least I Love You!

There always has to be an arc where the lead couple’s relationship splinters because one party draws back in order to “protect” the other. It’s accompanied by an intentional lack of communication, so the other person thinks that they’ve been left behind. Remember when this trope used to be cool? Yeah, I don’t either. Because it never was.

Ye Hua might have some fun with this, but LBFAD doubles it by making both the male lead and second male lead utilize this strategy: DFQC, in order to force Xiao Lanhua to fall out of love with him and spare her life in the process, and Chang Heng, who refrains from pursuing Xiao Lanhua in the beginning in order to keep her out of his brother’s view.

I’m tempted to be lenient in both cases. DFQC’s predicament is written well enough that he does seem truly out of options in that situation—every possible choice is wrong. He either breaks her heart and she survives, perhaps so he can explain his actions later, or he lets her die. Or, you know. He could communicate like she asked him to, and they could try to find a way out together. Instead she stabs herself. So you know what, no free pass for DFQC, but at least he makes up for it later.

(I have to get another jab at Ye Hua in here. When Xiao Lanhua commits suicide, she does it to save DFQC. It’s an act of love and sacrifice. Su Su literally seeks death out of unadulterated heartbreak and betrayal. Big difference there, huh?)

I mentioned that Chang Heng’s actions are out of responsibility, so it’s hard to fully blame him. At the same time, the reason Chang Heng can’t win over Xiao Lanhua is because he doesn’t act on his feelings until it’s too late. Simply “protecting her” is not enough: people don’t love others in the hopes of being protected. They love someone to walk alongside them through all the good and bad in life, together.

Chang Heng shines in the ending episodes. He still wants to protect Xiao Lanhua, but he also becomes the one person who understands and accepts her own desires. Knowing from experience that acting one-sidedly is but a temporary solution to a much larger issue, he listens to and considers what she wants. When the two tribes are on the brink of war and Xiao Lanhua doesn’t want to return to Shuiyuntian with him, even after learning of her lost identity as the Goddess of Xishan, he respects that. When, as Xi Yun, she confides in him that she’s pretending to not remember DFQC, he is hurt by how cruel she is being to him, but in the end chooses to understand her.

CH: Your life will truly be in danger this time, Xiao Lanhua. I absolutely cannot let you go back there.

XLH: Lord Chang Heng, are you really going to stop me? My lord, you are a god of war. I am merely a plant with a damaged spiritual root. If you insist on stopping me, then there is nothing I can do. But I will definitely not give in.

CH: You will die. Is that right? [...] You and Dongfang Qingcang love one another. You would rather pretend not to know him than to harm him in any capacity. Then what about me? How could you...how could you ask me to marry you and then personally send you off to die? Did you consider me at all?

XLH: Chang Heng...I am sorry.

CH: I do not want any of your ‘sorry’s. You clearly know that what I want is not for you to say sorry. Are you going to tell me that you do not have a choice?

XLH: That is not true. It was me who chose to live with the Goddess of Xishan’s destiny. Chang Heng, you are the only one who can help me.

Oh, Chang Heng. He’s come to his senses, but everyone he loves and respects falls apart. Saving DFQC from his dreamworld, bringing Xiao Lanhua back from the dead, sacrificing Xiao Lanhua, burying his best friend...what a rough schedule. Scratch giving him s’mores, he needs a drink or two.

Everyone in this drama grows into a better version of themselves, but Chang Heng practices the deepest empathy of any of them. To be hurt is to understand others’ pain, and he really does learn to understand.

---

Such is the beautiful tragedy of Chang Heng and his love for Xiao Lanhua. It’s bittersweet that Chang Heng knows to let go, but comforting to recognize that they’re better off not being together. Only with them apart can Chang Heng’s love stay as pure as it is.

Take that, Ye Hua. I’ll admit, I appreciate Ye Hua for showing me the perfect example of a guy that I should not even spare a glance at. Otherwise, Chang Heng supremacy declared; respectfully, please get that other man away from me.

#苍兰诀 #love between fairy and devil #三生三世十里桃花 #eternal love #three lives three worlds #scribbles*#chang heng has liberated me #i feel so free after finally badmouthing this guy after all these years lmao #ahem no hard feelings ye hua #you were a good part of my c-drama history

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