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arwenlalaith · 3 years ago

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Imbroligo (Part One)

Ship: Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: Alex gives you a subtle proposition that you fail to honour. When she comes home, she brings a surprise...

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Teacher-student relationship, subtle BDSM themes.

Word Count: 2178

Author’s Note: I’ve purposefully left this as a cliff-hanger. Message me and tell me what you want to happen next! If your suggestion inspires me, I’ll write it!

As Alex’s grad student, one of your tasks was to look after her guest speakers while she was teaching – which typically meant showing them around campus and making sure they found their way to their lecture on time.

On this particular occasion, the guest lecturer would be speaking in your forensic linguistics class and Alex had given you very specific instructions to take excellent care of your guest... (If you’d found her emphasis odd at the time, you didn’t say so, though it would later occur to you that you should have asked for clarification.)

You’d heard a lot about Emily Prentiss from Alex.

The two had met before you’d come into the picture – before Alex had transitioned back to full-time teaching – and you had a sneaking suspicion that they’d slept together at some point or, at the very least, had wanted to... You told yourself you weren’t jealous because, if the stories you’d heard were anything to go by, Emily wasn’t nearly submissive enough for Alex’s liking.

When you first came face to face with Emily, you could understand why Alex seemed so enamoured with her...she was fucking gorgeous. Trying not to be intimidated, you plastered on a smile and offered her a hand to shake. “You must be Agent Prentiss,” you said, “I’m Y/N – Professor Miller’s grad student. I’ll be showing you around.”

Emily rather obviously raked her eyes over you for a moment, then offered you a smile that seemed to hint that she knew something more than she should. “Please, call me Emily,” she said, shaking your hand.

_____________________

After Emily’s lecture was over, she and Alex had gone for dinner together. You, on the other hand, had been given explicit instructions to go home and wait for Alex to return. (You weren’t quite certain whether you were waiting for a reward or a reprimand...and you were on pins and needles waiting to find out.)

The door to your little apartment slammed open and you looked up from your (attempted) studying, startled. “Alex...” you said, words poised on your tongue in greeting...only you didn’t get that far. Upon seeing the expression that flickered in her eyes, you knew she was displeased and you immediately felt a flush creep up your cheeks. “I mean...Mommy,” you stammered, dropping your gaze to the floor. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

Alex appeared quite pleased with herself at having caught you off guard. She crossed the room slowly until she stood before you, scrutinizing you for a moment. Then, she tipped your chin up so you were forced to meet her gaze. “I was just having a lovely dinner with Emily,” she said, almost apropos of nothing.

“Oh?” you whispered, not sure where this was going.

She nodded. “She told me how openly you were flirting with her...” she continued, almost airily.

Your eyes went wide and you immediately began stammering a response of denial.

From the doorway, there came the sound of laughter. Emily leaned lazily against the doorframe, hand on her jutting hip, fingers casually drumming against the arch of her hipbone. “It’s true,” she said as if she either didn’t notice or didn’t care that you were poised for a punishment. “She made her interest in me very apparent.” She examined her nails with disinterest, as if she weren’t holding your fate in her hands.

“Well...” you stuttered, “I mean, that’s... That’s not quite...” You didn’t want to outright call Emily a liar; you supposed, however subtly, your actions could have come across as flirtatious.

Alex raised a brow, quietly inquisitive. “So, you aren’t interested in Emily?” she asked. She released her grip on your chin, let her hand fall to your shoulder as she moved to stand behind you. “Pity...” she said at length.

You were entirely confused as to what she’d meant by that, but weren’t certain you were permitted to ask. You swallowed thickly, tongue flicking out over your bottom lip. “I don’t understand,” you finally admitted with a nervous little laugh.

Alex and Emily shared a smirk then, only adding to your confusion.

Alex once again gripped your chin, this time forcing you to look at Emily. Leaning down to whisper in your ear, she said, “I simply assumed you had better taste than to turn down something so delectable.”

You might’ve laughed, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the situation in which you’d found yourself was no joke.

“But I...” you tried to explain. “You and I...”

“Did I not tell you to take excellent care of her?” Alex asked. “I would’ve thought I made myself clear as to what I expect of you.”

Your eyes went wide and your mouth was suddenly very dry. You couldn’t help the nervous laughter this time because it was starting to sound an awful lot like Alex expected you to service Emily...

Once again, Alex looked up to Emily, her brow raised. “It sounds to me like she failed to meet your needs,” she said. When she released her grip on you this time, her hand was lightening quick as it moved to tug your hair sharply, forcing your head to tilt back.

“Truly a pity,” Emily said in agreement. “I was so looking forward to truly enjoying your little brat after all that stories you’ve told...”

Glancing down at you, Alex pursed her lips in distaste. “She is a brat, isn’t she?” You tried to choke out that you were sorry, but Alex wasn’t interested in your apologies. “What should I do with her?” she asked Emily.

“Perhaps you and I ought to show her what she missed out on...” Emily suggested, grinning lasciviously. She proceeded to slowly unbutton her blouse, making a show of exposing the red lace bra that cupped her gorgeous breasts.

Alex hummed a note that you knew meant she was pleased by Emily’s suggestion. She looked down at you once again and said, “You wouldn’t have a problem with that, now would you, Pet?” It was phrased like a question, but you knew there was only one right answer.

“Of course not,” you answered, no matter how much you wanted to pout and say no. “You’re free to do as you wish.”

Alex strode across the room to once again stand by Emily’s side. She trailed her fingers ever so delicately along Emily’s collar bones, then up her throat, the entire time leaning in until their lips were almost touching. “You wouldn’t tell Mommy what she could do, would you?” she asked you without bothering to look at you.

“Of course not, Mommy,” you murmured, not wanting to watch, but refusing to look away all the same.

Alex leaned in to capture Emily’s lips this time, kissing her slowly, hungrily. (Hardly the kiss of two people who’d never fucked, you couldn’t help but think...) When she pulled back from the kiss, she once again turned to look at you. “Would that teach you a lesson, Pet? Making you watch while I fuck her just because I can? Tie you up, make you watch, and forbid you from cumming...”

You whimpered, but said nothing, feeling your cheeks burning with some emotion you couldn’t quite name.

“Perhaps I should search for a new pet who will serve me better...” Alex continued.

“You’re too tough on the poor thing,” Emily said, mirth in her voice. She was working on the buttons of Alex’s blouse now, taunting you with what you couldn’t have.

Alex cocked her head, offered Emily a grin. “You think?”

She nodded. “Give her a chance to prove she can do better,” she suggested. “No point wasting all that time you spent breaking her in...” She affixed her lips to Alex’s neck as she cupped her exposed breast, thumb teasing at her nipple.

Without looking at you, Alex snapped her fingers. “Stand,” she ordered. “Strip.”

You nearly leapt out of your chair so that you could obey, eager not to let her down a second time. You wasted no time in shucking off your clothes, refusing to let Emily’s presence sway you...she was far too busy focusing on Alex to notice you anyway.

“Now, kneel,” Alex commanded and you immediately dropped to the floor.

Emily laughed, the sound muffled by the fact that her lips were making their way down Alex’s chest. “She’s eager to be a good little girl now, isn’t she?” she murmured against her skin. “Trying so hard to make us happy.”

Alex scoffed. “Oh, she’ll have to work at it...” she said vaguely.

You didn’t know what she meant by that, what she had planned for you, but the idea of serving her in front of Emily (or serving Emily in front her Alex, as the case may be) made anticipation shiver down your spine like ice water.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Alex asked you, still not looking at you, busy as she was with Emily’s lips on her breast... Without waiting for you to answer, she said, “You’re being punished because when Mommy gives you a gift, you gratefully accept it. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, averting your eyes from the sight of Emily lavishing attention on Alex’s nipple. You would have liked to apologize once again, but knew it was useless to further plead your case.

For a moment, Alex failed to react to you, unable to form words as her breath hitched under Emily’s ministrations. Then, Emily paused, locking eyes with Alex. “How are we punishing the little brat?” she husked.

Alex’s expression became positively sinful. She leaned in to whisper something in Emily’s ear, making her giggle.

“You’re wicked,” Emily breathed, then stole another kiss. “I love it.”

“Do the honours?” Alex offered.

Emily turned to look at you, naked and kneeling, her teeth raking across her bottom lip as she took in the sight. “Against the wall, brat,” she commanded once she’d drank in the sight of you.

Obediently, you shuffled across the room on your knees, pressing yourself as close to it as you possibly could.

You were surprised, then, when Emily slid a quarter along the wall in front of your face. “Hold it there,” she demanded. You looked up, confused. “With your nose. Keep it there. If it falls, you won’t like what happens...”

You pressed your nose to the quarter, only then thinking to ask, “How long?”

“As long as it takes,” Emily said with a laugh. What followed was the sound of furious kissing and the shuffle of feet as Alex backed Emily into the wall beside you.

From the corner of your vision, you were able to watch as Alex dropped to her knees before Emily as she bunched her skirt up around her waist, trailing kisses along her thigh. Then, came the signature sound of a sharp inhale that you knew had to mean Alex had found Emily’s clit with her tongue.

You gave a little squeak and pressed your nose tighter against the coin, crossing your eyes to try to focus on it.

As if she could read your mind, Emily gave a breathy little laugh. “She’s got a talented mouth, doesn’t she?” she taunted you.

You whimpered in response, unable to form any words.

“Speechless, hmm?” Emily said conversationally. “Alright, I’ll describe it to you...”

You exhaled shakily, doing your best to maintain your composure, lest you risk further punishment. You could already feel your thighs getting sticky as the sound of Alex going down on Emily travelled straight to your cunt. “Please...” you whispered. “Please don’t...”

Your pleas, such as they were, were pointless it seemed because in the next moment, Emily was moaning, the sound ragged and primal as Alex slipped two fingers into her cunt.

You squirmed, trying to put some pressure on your throbbing clit without using your hands, knowing that if you did, your punishment would be all the more severe.

“You want to fuck yourself, don’t you?” Emily goaded. “To make yourself cum just listening to your Mommy going down on someone else?”

You whimpered, but said nothing.

“Too bad.” She reached down to tangle her fingers in Alex’s hair, holding her in place as she worked her tongue through her slit over and over. Her words became lost as her cries became increasingly high-pitched and wanton, nearing her peak.

Doing your very best to remain obedient and still, you could only listen as Alex made Emily cum, even though it nearly killed you to keep your hands innocently at your sides.

Finally, as Emily’s breathing began to level out, Alex’s voice commanded you, “Crawl to me.” Once you’d reached her, she surprised you by leaning in to kiss you, the taste of Emily’s cunt lingering on her tongue.

That was the only kindness you received, though, before Alex stood. She moved to pick up the quarter that you’d let fall to the floor, flipped it in the air and caught it again. “Let’s make this fair,” she suggested, flipping the coin again. “Heads, I get to decide what happens to you next. Tails, Emily decides...”

#Alex Blake #alex blake/reader #alex blake/emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #emily prentiss #fanfiction #mine

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attemptsonherlifepdf · 3 years ago

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attempts on her life: an exploration of victimhood, theatre and self-empowerment as modern feminine survival tactics

trigger warning for discussions of suicide, self harm, sexual assault, fetishism, eating disorders, implications of paedophilia and violence

‘is she not saying, your help oppresses me? is she not saying, the only way to avoid being a victim of the patriarchal structures of late 20th century capitalism is to become her own victim?’ martin crimp’s 1997 play, attempts on her life, was first performed at the royal court theatre upstairs the year of its release. written ‘for a company of actors whose composition should reflect the world beyond theatre’, the play explores the seedier, harsher aspects of reality, including pornography, ethnic violence and suicide. crimp’s central character, anne, is characterised as unique and empowered, but most importantly she is characterised by narrators and other characters describing her. the irony of a woman described as so empowered having so little voice of her own throughout the play is crucial to the question the play poses: is liberation from patriarchal constraints even possible, or do acts of reclamation serve to eventually end up catering to the male gaze regardless?

the scene ‘untitled (100 words)’ details anne’s self-destruction, manifesting in ‘various attempts to kill herself.’ it is an effort to replace being a victim of ‘patriarchal structures’ with being a victim of her own actions and emotions. arguably though, this effort may not be entirely fruitful as anne’s behaviour produces the same result she would achieve through allowing herself to cater to traditional expectations: a helpless victim of the male gaze. anne’s actions are presented as exhibitionist; while motivated by her own suicidal ideation, her attempts to take her life work as ‘a kind of theatre for a world in which theatre itself has died.’ she leaves a ‘gallery’ of memorabilia surrounding her attempts, including ‘medicine bottles, records of hospital admissions polaroids of the several hiv positive with whom she has intentionally had unprotected intercourse, pieces of broken glass...suicide notes…’ a narrator describes this exhibition as ‘the spectacle of her own existence, the radical pronography...the religious object.’ the semantic field of language in this scene associated with anne’s suicide attempts is littered with sexualisation and ideas of performance: ‘its sexy...voeyuers...pornography...object of herself...to be consumed...self-indulgent...entertaining.’ this opens up a dialogue between the narrators that evaluates her suicidal behaviour as a piece of artwork. one asks ‘who would possibly accept this kind of undigested exhibitionism as a work of art?’ while the other offers the idea that ‘gestures of radicalism take on new meaning in a society where the radical gesture is simply one more form of entertainment - in this case artwork - to be consumed.’ as uncomfortable as it is to suggest, anne’s suicidality is both fetishised and commodified, something that is partially her own doing. the concepts of ‘pure narcissism’ and ‘self-indulgence’ are attributed to her performance, along with one of the narrators pushing for her to receive psychiatric treatment. an obvious but viable interpretation of anne’s ‘gallery’ is that it is an exaggerated cry for help, where she lays out the evidence of her mental state in the hopes of receiving validation or assistance. this idea is disputed by this narrator’s counterpart, who suggests that ‘help is the last thing she wants.’ the sexualised language used and the repeated hints at exhibitionism could indicate that her performance is for the purpose of her own sexual pleasure: ‘surely our presence [the audience] here makes us mere voyeurs in bedlam.’ in forcing those around her to witness her mental decline, anne may be participating in fetishism. she certainly is acting with the intention of performing, and of being watched.

this is where the idea of empowerment and reclamation comes in. anne forces her peers into watching, something that she gets pleasure from, and this arguably serves as a reversal of typical sexual dynamics which place men in dominant, pleasure-receiving roles roles. in self-destructive behaviours, she reclaims her body and chooses to destroy it herself rather than allowing others to do it to her. however, in the process of doing so she achieves the same result that she would if she were allowing her environment to shape her into an object of the male gaze; that is to say, a helpless object. men’s stereotypical attraction to what ibsen referred to as ‘feminine helplessness’ tends to be the driving force of the objectification of women. it can be argued that this objectification is inevitable and thus anne’s efforts to control the means by which it occurs is the closest she can get to liberating herself from it. finding a way to enjoy or bear something painful and inevitable serves as a survival mechanism; ‘not the object of others, but the object of herself.’

the aesthetic framing of anne’s violence against herself is incredibly significant to its relevance as a piece of artwork. in ‘aesthetic violence and women in film: kill bill with flying daggers’, kupfer argues that film, and by extension plays and scripts, aesthetically frame violence in three ways: symbolically, structurally, and as a narrative essential. anne’s violence can be characterised as self harm and fulfills these three framings. symbolically it is an act of free will and a reclamation of her own body, an opportunity to enjoy her ‘inevitable’ objectification. structurally, the scene ‘untitled (100 words)’ occurs five scenes after the last discussion of anne’s suicidality within the play, a scene titled ‘mum and dad.’ this sets up certain aspects of anne’s performative nature in advance. after a suicide attempt she describes ‘[feeling] like a screen’ to her parents: ‘where everything from the front looks real and alive, but round the back there’s just dust and a few wires...an absence of character.’ here she details an experience of feeling disconnected from herself beyond her performance. the act of using performance as a means of openly criticising performance is certainly subversive, and is a device seen in more modern media, such as bojack horseman (‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a xerox...not my character’) and in bo burnham’s ‘inside.’ crimp uses his play to propose ideas about the nature of acting, particularly its role in the lives of women. the sentiment of acting being a survival tactic for women is echoed in much earlier texts, such as ibsen’s ‘a doll’s house.’ throughout the play nora caters to her husband’s infantalised fantasies of her whenever he is present, and doing so results in him giving her an allowance and certain limited but significant moments of freedom. torvald admits, ‘i would not be a man if your feminine helplessness did not make you doubly attractive in my eyes’ and repeatedly states that he wishes some ‘terrible fate’ would befall his wife so that he could have the pleasure of rescuing her. anne’s performance of suicidality, of feeling ‘beyond help’, would likely be received by men similarly to how nora’s childish facade is received by her husband, as a fantasy that involves saving her for their own sense of pleasure and accomplishment. however, what makes anne’s behaviour ‘radical’ is her refusal to accept help. she recognises that her feelings of hopelessness are fetishised and argues that ‘your help oppresses me.’ this sentiment is also reflected in ‘a doll’s house’; nora must refuse torvald’s money and help in order to pursue her own freedom in the final act. catering to his idealised image of a wife only served to help her survive her household, not to prosper or be her individual self. she had to leave the environment which forced her to perform behind entirely in order to discover who she is beyond the act. not accepting help is anne’s version of this, but the narrators consider the idea that even in isolating her act to only include herself, anne still cannot escape objectification. her ‘radical gesture’ of destroying herself and laying out the evidence of her behaviour is ‘simply one more form of entertainment, one more product… to be consumed.’ an earlier scene, titled ‘the camera loves you’ includes the line ‘we need to go for the sexiest scenario’, a statement which accurately summarises the likely reception to anne’s ‘dialogue of objects.’ arguably another aspect of what makes anne’s predicament ‘the sexiest scenario’ is that even within the text itself she is the subject of the conversation, but rarely a participant. anne is described by narrators, art critics, her parents, her family, etc, but only ever speaks for herself when her defiant statements are being quoted by one of these narrators. descriptions of her self-inflicted violence fit kupfer’s final framing: a narrative essential.

interestingly, the play consists of a somewhat non-linear narrative, where each of its 17 scenes has its own plot unconnected to that of the last. as a result, a narrative essential in ‘attempts on her life’ would be a device, or in this case an instance of violence, which builds our understanding of both anne and the play’s messages, rather than a traditional narrative essential which would drive the plot forwards. the play delivers multiple instances of various forms of violence, ranging from ethnic violence to self harm to forced pornography. anne’s self-injury in particular is framed just prior to and just after the midpoint of the play. before the midpoint, the audience learns of her ‘terrible detachment’ from the character she plays, how she ‘feels like a screen.’ the midpoint, a scene titled ‘the international threat of terrorism™’ opens with a brief analysis of a statement made by anne: ‘i do not recognise your authority.’ the speaker asks, ‘does she really imagine that anything can justify her acts of random senseless violence?’ ‘random’ and ‘senseless’ seem ill-fitting qualities to attribute to anne’s violence, particularly given that her parents state ‘she’s planned all this.’ however, this midpoint scene states ‘no one can find anne’s motive’, seemingly the reason that the speaker cannot see a possible justification for her behaviour. choosing not to recognise the authority of those around her is yet another aspect of our protagonist’s performance that is ‘radical.’ in neglecting to acknowledge the power of those objectifying her, anne is achieving two things; either she is allowing herself to experience her own body and emotions without it being for the sake of others, or she is allowing herself to be fetishised and is simply in denial of it. her defiance is complex and the results of it, and indeed the motivations behind it, are difficult to ascertain.

martin crimp’s use of 17 separate individual scenes rather than a traditional singular plot narrative allows the audience to gain a multifaceted understanding of many multifaceted issues. anne is placed and acts within varying contexts such as her own personal self destruction, destruction of land that comes with ethnic cleansing, the commodification of female bodies and two different familial structures. the scene ‘the camera loves you’ emphasises how anne is an ‘everywoman’ but rather than this term being used to describe an average woman in daily life, it instead refers to a woman who is, simply put, everything. anne is described in the scene ‘girl next door’ as ‘the girl next door...royalty…a pornographic movie star...a killer and a brand of car...a terrorist threat...a mother of three...femme fatale...a presidential candidate...a predator…’ by not allocating a specific speaker to each line, crimp allows the director to decide who describes anne and in what way. lines such as ‘what we see here is the work of a girl who clearly should have been admitted, not to an art school but to a psychiatric unit’ can be spoken by a parent, an art critic, a teacher, anyone, and the relation of the speaker to anne is what characterises the comment and thus characterises her. someone described as ‘self indulgent’ by a parent is very different to someone described the same way by a lover. this means that anne is not just every woman, but every woman to everyone. by placing this ‘everywoman’ in such a range of contexts, she arguably becomes a plot device used to convey meaning, and it can be argued that this negates the more empowered features of her character. it is entirely common for female characters to be reduced to plot devices, however most often when this occurs, the character is two-dimensional. anne, on the other hand, is consistently given additional layers to her character in every scene; she exists to be characterised. excessive use of character description in conjunction with limited speaking time is either evidence that crimp’s writing is atypical in style but not theme, or that it is poignant.

arguably, by giving anne countless traits and emphasising ideas of performance and media, crimp is using his 17 scenes as an extreme example of the commodification of female bodies. anne is sold to the audience as this larger-than-life persona, someone who fulfils a million roles in subversive ways that are interesting to watch, but she still ‘feels like a screen.’ again, this sentiment of the effects of performance on an actor is echoed in many modern texts and pieces of media, but ‘attempts on her life’ makes this point in specific reference to women. real life examples of anne’s treatment exist, and her ‘everywoman’ role allows audiences to relate anne to any number of women existing in media. the way that others only talk about anne when describing or evaluating her mimics the way that agencies and record labels create a solid branding for their actors, musicians, and so on. this brand becomes an intrinsic part of their genuine personality as they cannot be caught behaving in a way that is not consistent with it. acting becomes a constant, and these women are constantly selling a brand or persona, and have very little space to behave in ways that feel true to themselves instead. acting ‘out of character’ results in the loss of public support, funding from agencies, job offers, etc, and thus the character created for celebrities is vital to their survival in their respective industries. as previously discussed, traditional texts argue the importance of theatre for women’s survival just as much, namely ibsen’s ‘a doll’s house.’ the same way nora must leave the environment that forces her to act in order to be happy or individual, anne must do the same; but her attempts at suicide suggest that the environment forcing her performance is not a household or an industry, but ‘the patriarchal structures of late twentieth century capitalism.’ either she dies or ‘becomes her own victim’ in an attempt to escape constant performance, but even her death becomes somewhat performative. even dead, many female celebrities continue their branding through martyrdom. there is very little room for one to make art detailing suicide, sex, and the like without seemingly crossing the line between expression and glorification. women who suffer are not necessarily acting, but as their suffering is a part of their life experience, it becomes interwoven in their branding or public image: amy winehouse’s experiences with alcoholism and bulimia come to mind. winehouse never glorified alcoholism herself, but songs such as ‘rehab’ and documentaries covering her illness released after her death have certainly been accused of doing so. agencies and other creatives took advantage of winehouse’s struggles in order to perform their own ‘activism’ or ‘spreading of awareness.’

in light of ‘attempts on her life’ and the concepts surrounding performance that it poses, we must consider: is liberation from patriarchal constraints even possible, or do acts of reclamation serve to eventually end up catering to the male gaze regardless? it would not be accurate to the play’s style and purpose to try to make one singular conclusion to this question. crimp uses varying styles and contexts in order to showcase the various aspects there are to this issue; the necessity of performance, the constraints it leads to, the sexualisation of suffering, brand maintenance, and so on. anne’s lack of voice in this play can be read either as an example of the very thing the play criticises, or simply just poor usage of character, and the former feels most appropriate for crimp’s writing style. the play implies that victimhood can be intrinsic to womanhood, but presents anne’s defiance as ideallised, encouraging it. theatre can be used as both a survival mechanism and a method of empowerment, but the play posits that it is only empowering to a certain extent; it allows one to control the means by which they are objectified but not to actually avoid objectification. one can behave in undesirable manners, such as anne’s displays of suicidality and exhibitionism, but then we must examine their motivations. is anne behaving in this way solely based upon her low mental health? or is the fact that she is also engaging in a form of exhibitionism and forcing an audience evidence of her sexualising her own experience? if so, her sexualisation of suicidal behaviour likely stems from the ‘patriarchal structures’ she is working to avoid being a victim of, suggesting that it is not possible to liberate oneself from them. anne is evidence that women are not separate from the patriarchy, but active participants in it as it is a collection of ideals engraved into western society. it would be unfair and somewhat dejected to conclude that these ideals cannot be unlearned, but ‘attempts on her life’ certainly illustrates that unlearning them is a more active and difficult task than simply holding a feminist ideology.

i.k.b

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youngster-monster · 5 years ago

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Mariage d’Amour

The King of the Cat Kingdom wants one thing above all else: his son’s happiness. Unfortunately, the old cat has decided that, to be happy, Lune needs to be married — or, at the very least, either courting or being courted by another cat.

“Father,” his son says, long-suffering. “I’ll only marry for love. We’ve already discussed this.”

The King grins, leaning precariously off his throne to look his son in the eyes. “But how can you fall in love if you never meet anyone new?”

Lune wants to say, I meet loads of new people, but by that he would mean his people, his soldiers, the castle’s servants. Nothing his father would consider marriage candidates. He also wants to say, that’s the whole point. He doesn’t particularly want to get married. He’s young, with many things to do to prove himself still. He cares about his troops more than romance at the moment, and that might change in the future, but right now he’s content.

Of course, his father doesn’t care what he has to say about it. He loves Lune. That doesn’t mean he listens to him. So, the King invites the whole kingdom to send suitors to the court, in the hope that one may strike the prince’s fancy.

His life has been a nightmare ever since.

He spends his day sitting on his father’s throne, which would be a great honor if only it wasn’t so he could welcome suitors one after the other and listen to their sales pitch.

There are cats from all over the kingdom, of any kind and colors. Some are clearly only in it for the royal titles; a few came for the sake of saying they were here; many are painfully earnest, hoping that he’ll give them more than a spare glance. A… not insignificant amount of them are very openly attracted to him, which is sometimes flattering and sometimes deeply uncomfortable. He’s not prone to unreasonable rage the way his father is, but it’s still a struggle to keep himself from getting a few overly enthusiastic suitors thrown through the windows. One of them actually tried to crawl into his lap, and he feels his fur stand on end at the memory.

Long days pass with him trying his best to stay awake as suitors recite poetry to him, offer him gifts, showcase their talents and promise to treasure and cherish him forever, all in an effort to stand out from the rest. All fruitless attempts, as he only slips further into deadly boredom and uneasiness at each cat standing before him. He feels both like a precious treasure to be won over and a tasty piece of meat to be bought. Neither is comforting.

The constant chattering and the shrill background music is starting to give him a headache. He closes his eyes for a moment and rubs his forehead, wishing that he were somewhere else. Somewhere quiet, where people wouldn’t come to bother him…

He frowns, whiskers twitching. He might have daydreamed for a second too long: silence has fallen over the room, and while it’s a blessing, he can’t let them see any sign of weakness from him. He is their crown prince. He can’t just get a stress migraine in the middle of the day.

A sigh, one last indulgence he allows himself, and he opens his eyes again. But the crowd is not staring at them tired prince as he expected them to, something that brings him more relief than it has any right to. Instead, they’re all turned towards the doors, silent in that very specific way that precedes a storm of gossip. What they’re looking at he can’t tell: even from the vantage point the throne offers, there’s still too many cats between him and the other end of the room.

A rhythmic sound rises above the silent crowd — heeled boots clicking over the tiles, he realizes. The crowd parts in its path, and soon enough the stranger that shushed the crowd so efficiently is revealed to Lune.

That feat alone would easily have endeared him to the prince, but he finds himself curious for a totally different reason. Whereas most suitors come here dressed to the nine, this one — he supposes it is a suitor — has donned an entirely dark attire, with a wide-brimmed hat that hides his face. Far from making him look ridiculous, it gives him a distinguished air that Lune immediately finds… intriguing, which is a first when it comes to this damned spectacle.

One of his guards goes for her sword at his approach, but Lune stops her with a raised paw. He wants to hear what this cat has to say.

The stranger lifts his head, revealing a silver mask further covering his features and warm ginger fur. His voice, when he finally speaks up, is calm and smooth, the same way he lifts his gloved paw to offer it to Lune.

“May I have this dance?”

In the moment it takes for Lune to hesitate, the band at the edge of the room has resumed playing. But the peppy music from before has been replaced by the first measures of a soft waltz, and Lune… lets himself be convinced.

He takes the stranger’s paw and steps down the throne. It’s a slight surprise to find that the offer is not only for show: the other cat actually helps him down, bearing his weight easily the way a true gentleman would have.

A true gentleman might be what he’s dealing with, he realizes as the stranger leads him a few steps forward into the space that opened itself in the middle of the room, the rest of the crowd watching from the sides while chattering in hushed whispers. He draws Lune in without insistence but the prince still feels as if he’s being tugged closer by invisible strings, putting his paw on the stranger’s shoulder almost out of reflex than conscious thought and shivering as the other cat rests his against Lune’s back.

Then, slowly, they sink into a waltz. Lune follows his lead — he was taught how to dance, but he never managed it with quite the same ease as the other cat, who moves as if there’s nothing more natural in the world than this dance. His red-lined cape flares in their wake, creating an elegant arc when they spin. Despite the flashy display, Lune can’t look away from the stranger’s face. He tilts his head down slightly to meet Lune’s eyes with his own, and they flash bright emerald green.

Lune is so taken aback by the sight — for reasons he can’t make a sense of — that he trips on his own paws. He clutches the stranger’s shoulder, already expecting the two of them to go sprawling on the floor—

Instead, he smoothly lowers his hand to bear more of Lune’s weight and dips him, passing off his clumsiness for something deliberate. They stay like this only for a second but it feels like hours to Lune, heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest as he gapes at the other cat. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, the faintest twitch to his whisker, that suggests he’s perfectly aware of Lune’s flustered state, though he’s perfectly unruffled himself. Then he lifts Lune to his feet again and leads him back into a waltz for the last few movements of the song.

The music fades, and the two dancers find themselves standing still in the middle of the improvised ballroom. The stranger only holds on for an instant, long enough that a second more would have been improper, but his touch trails off over Lune’s skin as if he’s only letting go begrudgingly, etiquette overriding his own desire. He takes a step back, back military straight, and doesn’t say anything.

Lune feels his body tingle where the other cat has touched him, a warmth that suffuses through his skin and down to his blood, making a pleased blush rise to his face. Lune who speaks up instead. He’s proud to find his voice level despite the blush he can feel warm his face.

“Who are you?” He asks, softly, as if not to break the spell.

The stranger thumbs off his mask, then takes off his hat and leans into an elegant bow, finally revealing his face to the crowd. When he rises, his eyes swipe over the tittering crowd quickly before once again settling on Lune.

“I am Baron Humbert von Gikkingen. I’ve come to ask for the honor to court you, if you will let me.”

This is the first time anyone has worded a proposal as a choice for him, rather than an offer from them. It’s so unusual Lune… Doesn’t know what to say. It’s not a commitment. He can put an end to a courtship at any moment. It’s a way out. And he doesn’t know how to accept it. Hours of etiquette lessons, and he forgot how to say yes to a courtship.

Baron is patient despite his floundering, watching him intently as he thinks this through.

“I accept,” he finally says, voice low but sure. Then, louder, to make sure everyone in the room hears, he repeats, “I accept your courtship.”

A sigh of disappointment runs through the room, but he hardly pays any mind to it at all when the Baron smiles like this, quiet and satisfied. He steps back into Lune’s space now that he knows he has the authorization to do so, and brings his mouth close to Lune’s ear, warm breath making it flutter slightly.

“Then, until we meet again, Prince Lune,” he whispers, followed by a quiet huff of laughter. “Hopefully with less of a crowd to gawk at us next time.”

Then he’s off, turning on his heels and striding through the crowd without a single look back. He dons his hat again just as he steps over the threshold of the room and seems to disappear into the shadows of the corridors, gone as quickly as he appeared.

Lune watches him go with a kind of stunned wonder. He keeps his hold tight around the mask Baron slipped in his paw — a promise, he knows, of a return.

Maybe there’s a case to be made for romance, after all. It does seem to make life more interesting.

#writing #the cat returns #baron humbert von gikkingen #prince lune #gay cats!

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shiranuigenma · 5 years ago

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The Candle in the Window - MadaKaka

EXPLICIT // ALSO ON AO3 Words: 2,603 Warnings: Jealousy, Teasing, Sexual content, Somewhat rough sex, Light choking Gifted to: @raendown

This is smut. 2.6k of pure smut and I’m not sorry.

So this fic was originally supposed to be a birthday gift for Rae like 2 years ago but I couldn’t finish it and decided to write something else, so it’s just been sitting in my drafts folder (with a word count of 2k !!!!) waiting to be finished and HERE. IT. IS. FINALLY. I hope you like it!

(is it just me or is the horizontal line thing gone from posts now)

Night falls over the village, painting the sky in hues of blue so dark it's almost black, lit only by the moon and scattered starlight. In the distance, a lone candle flickers in the window of an otherwise dark apartment, calling Kakashi home.

That candle is rarely lit, and only means one thing.

He takes to the rooftops as he passes through the gate, moving silently through the village until he lands on his balcony, sliding open the door to find Madara standing on the other side. He doesn't turn, but the way his posture shifts ever so slightly, the way the hand currently turning pages in a book stills, signals that the Uchiha is aware of his presence.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Madara asks after a long moment of silence, closing the book he's perusing. There's a short pause, then he chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I expect not. Those who do not wish to be found-"

"Are you really here to talk about Obito?" Kakashi interrupts, unzipping his flak jacket and allowing it to fall to the floor, the heavy thud prompting Madara to finally turn to face him. He doesn't answer his question, but the way he watches Kakashi, quietly regarding him with something akin to possessive desire in his dark eyes, tells him no, he definitely did not come here to talk about Obito.

"Were I a... jealous man," Madara says after a moment, eyes raking slowly down Kakashi's form as he toes his sandals off, "I would be upset that you spend so much of your time looking for him."

"Please," Kakashi scoffs, rolling his eyes and walking further into the room. Madara's eyes track him, narrowing when Kakashi flashes a smirk over his shoulder, the expression unmistakable even behind his mask. "You're a terrible liar, Madara. I've never met anyone as prone to jealousy as you are."

Madara moves almost faster than Kakashi can see, and then his back is to the wall, Madara's grip tight on his neck and dark glare fixed upon him.

"I suggest you watch your tone with me, Kakashi," he murmurs. Though his voice doesn't betray his irritation, the threat is clear, and Kakashi tells himself the shiver that rolls straight down his spine is the result of nothing more than the cool evening breeze wafting gently through the open door.

"Oh?" He knows that provoking Madara now is a dangerous gamble, but in this case, the reward is worth the risk - usually. Hopefully. He shifts his hips forward ever so slightly, resisting another smirk when he hears the Uchiha inhale sharply. "You could try to make me, I suppose-"

He can't hold back a soft, self-satisfied noise when Madara yanks down his mask and kisses him, all rough lips and invasive tongue and nipping teeth, the fingers of his free hand clenching into his hip. The bite of his fingernails stings even through the fabric of his shirt, but it's immediately forgotten the instant Madara's hand shifts, tugging insistently at the fastenings of Kakashi's pants.

The fingers still curled around Kakashi's throat tighten ever so slightly when he reaches for Madara's pants, a silent warning against the action, followed by a growl and a sharp nip at his lower lip when he ignores it. Kakashi is sure he intends it to be harsh, for him to recoil and rethink what he's doing, but the quick action has the opposite effect - rather than make him reconsider, it only encourages him.

Until Madara speaks, that is.

"You can continue what you're doing," he says quietly, drawing back to fix Kakashi with his dark glare, "or I can touch you. It's your choice." That gives him pause - does he trust that Madara will actually do that if he stops, or does he call his bluff?

In the end, his impatience wins. He ignores every warning Madara gives him against it and tugs at his pants again, and before he can blink, Madara cuffs both of his wrists in one hand and slams them to the wall above his head.

"I warned you," he growls, eyes crimson as they meet Kakashi's once more, and he realizes what is happening a second too late.

He is helpless to resist as the genjutsu takes hold - he can do nothing but surrender to the illusion, to the imaginary promise of what is to come.

When Kakashi comes out of it with a sharp exhale, there is a strange spark of mischief in Madara's eyes, a hint of something dark and a little devious as his free hand dips down, fingertips grazing the hard line of Kakashi's cock through his pants. It's a quick, teasing touch, gone before his hips have even finished bucking into it, and he whines, hands straining uselessly against Madara's hold. Aching desperation winds between his ribs - desperation to touch, to taste, to strip away the layers that separate them as though he thinks pressing his heated flesh against Madara's will be enough to quell the desire now singing through his blood, but Madara is unrelenting.

Suddenly, Madara releases him, stepping out of Kakashi's reach before he can grab for him. The look in his eyes changes, and something about it holds Kakashi in place as easily as his hands had.

"Undress," Madara commands. His voice is quiet, but holds an undeniable authority that could carry as easily across battlefields as it does the limited space between them. It's a tone that tells him he has no other option to obey.

Not that he would make any other choice.

Madara's eyes follow Kakashi's every move as his fingers curl beneath the edge of his shirt, dragging the garment over his head and dropping it to the floor. The rest of his clothing quickly follows, and finally, he stands bare before Madara.

Kakashi's wary gaze follows Madara as he circles, openly admiring the view Kakashi is presenting to him. This is far from the first time Madara has seen him naked, but he still resists the urge to fidget beneath the Uchiha's appreciative scrutiny - years of battle have hardened and scarred his body, and while he isn't ashamed of himself, he doesn't think he'll ever feel comfortable being so exposed.

"I want you to touch yourself for me," Madara finally commands, and crimson eyes follow the motion of Kakashi's hand as he obediently curls it around his cock. Briefly, he wonders where Madara is going with this, but that thought is quickly forgotten, his eyes closing and head tipping back against the wall in pleasure as he strokes himself.

He's close - so close - when Madara orders him to stop. With a frustrated groan, Kakashi obeys, opening his eyes to look at him and letting his hand fall to his side despite the aching need to reach completion. He's not sure what Madara will do if he disobeys - some curious part of him wants to find out, but he's more curious about what he'll do next.

Those crimson eyes meet his again, drawing him into another illusion.

"Please," he whimpers when it breaks, barely registering his own desperate plea. He is painfully hard, would give anything for Madara to touch him, or to be able to touch himself again - anything to ease the ache. "Madara, please."

"Not yet," Madara murmurs, reaching up to touch Kakashi's lower lip, forcing his thumb into his mouth. "On your knees." It's not a request, but an order, and Kakashi goes willingly as Madara guides him to the floor. His scarlet glare is a silent warning, telling Kakashi not to move. It takes everything he has to obey, to not give in to the desperate urge to take matters back into his own hands and relieve the pressure. Instead, his hands clench on his knees, and a whimper catches in his throat as Madara divests himself of his pants.

Kakashi's tongue flicks out to wet his dry lips when Madara's fingers wrap around his shaft, hungry eyes following the languid motion of his hand. He leans forward, looking up to meet Madara's eyes and opening his mouth invitingly, but Madara steps back, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he shakes his head. His grip shifts slightly, precome gathering at his tip in response to his slow ministrations.

"Sit back and don't move," he orders, waiting until Kakashi sits back on his heels before stepping forward again, so close that all it would take for Kakashi to taste that bead of precome is a quick flick of his tongue - he resists the urge, though, knowing he would likely be punished for the small act of disobedience with a longer delay - or even complete denial - of his own release.

Taking a shuddering breath, Kakashi stills, glancing up for just a moment before letting his gaze fall back to Madara's hand.

"Good," he murmurs, fingers of his free hand trailing along Kakashi's jaw, uncharacteristically gentle as he pulls him in to let his precome smear across his lower lip - and then he pushes him back, tipping his chin up until crimson eyes lock on Kakashi's grey.

Kakashi's grip on his knees tightens when Madara's thumb pushes into the corner of his mouth again, pressing down until his lips part. His slow, self-indulgent pace quickens at the sight of Kakashi's tongue curling around his thumb, and he finally steps forward, and Kakashi opens his mouth.

He waits, relaxing his jaw, the taste of salt and skin heavy on his tongue as he takes Madara in.

"Go ahead." Madara stills, watching as Kakashi draws back, tongue tracing up the vein along the underside of his cock before swirling around his head. It's there he pauses, looking up at Madara once more and raising his hands. Madara nods, and his eyes close as Kakashi's hands press against his knees, sliding slowly up his thighs.

Kakashi relishes in the small moan that escapes Madara when his fingers trail over twin sacs, gently palming them with one hand. Kakashi's name spills from his lips, barely a whisper when he takes him in again, his fingers stroking, hand caressing. He's slow about it, all teasing fingers and tongue - a small bit of payback for Madara's actions. The Uchiha doesn't seem to care, though, all of it forgotten under his ministrations.

He hums with satisfaction as Madara's fingers thread into his hair, and then he's drawing Kakashi up, kissing him hard and fast like he's the only thing that matters in this world, licking the taste of himself from his mouth.

A second later Madara shoves him back once more.

"Bend over the desk," is Madara's next command, and Kakashi's heartbeat thunders painfully against his sternum as he obeys, fingers curling around the edges of the hard wood, body damn near vibrating with anticipation when he hears the telltale click of a bottle opening. "Spread yourself for me."

Kakashi complies, turning his head to watch through half-lidded eyes as Madara slicks his fingers with lube. A shudder wracks his body when Madara touches him, a small, teasing brush of cold fingers against him, gently circling a few times before slowly slipping one inside. He has to bite his lip to stifle a soft moan, instinctively pressing back against Madara's hand.

"So impatient," Madara says with an amused chuckle, but he doesn't protest the movement, instead adding a second finger, his free hand wrapping around his cock when Kakashi moans, grinding back against his fingers. Madara leans down, teasing Kakashi with a third finger and nipping at his ear. "Do you want me to fuck you, Kakashi? Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Kakashi breathes, groaning when Madara withdraws, leaving him feeling empty. "Damn it, Madara-" He's back in an instant, pressing into him gradually, moving forward in careful increments until he's fully seated inside of him. Kakashi exhales at the feeling, hands finding the edge of the desk again when Madara begins to move - slowly, at first, getting used to the feel of him again after being apart for so long, then quickening his pace with each deliberate thrust.

It doesn't take him long to find his mark, adjusting his angle until he finds that spot that has Kakashi gripping the edges of the desk so hard he’s half afraid the wood might break, groaning at the satisfying stretch, the sensation of being filled, of being fucked, of losing himself to Madara and the sounds he's making behind him.

Kakashi will never grow tired of those sounds. His sensitive ears catch every muffled moan and uttered curse and strained breath as Madara fucks him into the desk, the weight of him bearing down on Kakashi's back as he leans forward, hand curling around his throat once more.

"You're mine," Madara breathes low in his ear, teeth marking his signature along the smooth skin of Kakashi's shoulder - they sink in when they reach his neck. Hard, but not quite hard enough to draw blood. He soothes the bite with his tongue even as his fingertips press bruises into Kakashi's throat. "Say it."

"Yours," he manages through teeth gritted against the pressure of Madara's fingers around his neck, grip on the desk tightening when a particularly rough thrust forces his hips into the edge of it. "I'm- fuck, Madara-"

He's so close, the heat that's been flooding through his body pooling low and pulling tight, just a little more-

The edges of his vision go fuzzy when Madara's hand suddenly tightens, and all the air rushes out of him in a single gasp. He hears Madara swear under his breath, voice raw and guttural, and then his hand is gone from Kakashi's throat. He takes hold of Kakashi’s hips in both hands now, both an anchor and a means to pull him back to meet his thrusts, and the absence of Madara's weight and the new space between him and the desk allows Kakashi to move one hand to palm his own neglected cock.

He curls his fingers and strokes just the way he likes it, and the dual sensation of Madara fucking him from behind and the movement of his own hand is the last push he needs. He reaches release with a moan, low and raw, and a few moments later - with a lot more noise - so does Madara.

Kakashi isn't sure how long they stay there, his forehead pressed to the desk and Madara buried inside him, both breathing heavily, but after what feels like a lifetime Madara finally leans down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to his shoulder. It seems his earlier attitude and jealousy are long forgotten.

"Are you all right?" he asks quietly, and when he touches Kakashi's neck again his fingers are gentle, rubbing where he had squeezed. Madara may display himself as a hard man, but with Kakashi, in these quiet, post-coital moments, he is always soft, tender and free with his affections. "I didn't mean to squeeze so hard."

"Trust me," Kakashi responds, voice muffled and a little raspy, laughing softly and turning his head, "I didn't mind. I should make you jealous more often."

In an instant the moment is gone. Madara reacts exactly the way Kakashi expects him to, pulling out of him with a comically disgruntled noise and a sharp slap on the ass, and Kakashi can’t help but laugh laughs when he hears Madara huffing all the way down the hall to the bathroom.

He takes just enough time to peel away the papers stuck to his sweaty chest before following, already thinking of how he’ll apologize to Madara for his teasing.

#madakaka #madara uchiha #kakashi hatake #my writing #for rae bae #this is some kind of au where everyone lives i think?#i'm not even sure at this point lol

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burlybanner · 5 years ago

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Syzygy - An AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Chapter 8: Me and My Shadow

Summary: What does real fear taste like? Link to Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Author Note - Trigger warning: DiD-type cycling and past child abuse/trauma. Please feel free to contact me if anything does not sound right? I want to be sensitive. It’s very much a unique situation because well...we’re talking about Bruce Banner, let’s be honest. But I’d like to get this as “right” as possible (or at least not jarringly wrong).

"My God..." Bruce ran a shaky hand across the recording. The recorded 'him' paused, apparently giving Bruce time to absorb and understand.

"You recorded yourself?"

He jumped at the sound near his ear. Steve had effectively swaddled him, but he wasn't feeling his body heat for whatever reason. And he really, really wanted to. "No, I...I don't remember ever--Steve, it..it's not me. I mean, I don't remember this." He gulped. He couldn't take his eyes off his doppelganger, but his twin didn't seem phased. He rocked in his chair, examined his nails, played with the keyboard. All things Bruce might have done, except--

"Jarvis, what's the timestamp on this recording?"

"04:32 AM, early this morning."

"After Tony put me to bed?"

"Yes. And not more than seven minutes after he left for his flight to Korea."

Steve had been strangely quiet and kept checking between Bruce and Bruce's twin. Bruce could've said more to reassure him but even he wasn't sure what he even could say at this point.

He frowned and ran a shaky hand beneath his chin. "I must've been sleepwalking."

"You weren't sleepwalking, Banner," the not-Bruce said, and a colder chill traveled down Bruce's back.

"What's going on, Bruce?" He felt Steve's hand clutch his shoulder and Bruce unconsciously leaned into it. "If this isn't you, who is it?"

"I-I don't have a clue..."

The not-Bruce cleared his throat. "The fright of viewing 'yourself' at this point should be wearing off. You must be insanely curious." He smiled faintly. "It's a shocking revelation, yes, but it shouldn't be a huge surprise. You've known, Bruce. You've refused to acknowledge me as truth, but you've known."

"Oh, Christ," Bruce whispered. He began shaking and Steve's presence tightened around him. Steve, fortunately, chose to listen and not speak, but Bruce had no idea what to say either. His mind began melting and swirling at the possibility, the implication--

"Shh, shhhh, don't drown in the madness, Banner," the not-Bruce murmured. "It's not difficult. Remember our favorite quote from our childhood: 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' "

"Pause, Jarvis!" Bruce suddenly shot up from his chair, knocking Steve back.

"Whoa--"

"Sorry, I'm...I'm sorry. Steve, give me a..."

Bruce helped Steve to his feet, but he shook hard enough to feel like he was flying apart, and Steve immediately wrapped him in his arms. "Bruce, babe, it's okay. I'm not hurt. Don't worry about it--"

"No..no. It's not fine. It's..." Bruce began wringing his hands, and he wasn't listening. His ears weren't producing...sound. He couldn't feel. Or see. He slammed his eyes shut and pulled from Steve, stumbling about while prodding That Place in his mind. Cautiously he prodded that Space, mentally feeling for for the Gate to Hulk's presence, but where? Was it...wait. No, not a Gate at all. Had it ever been a Gate? It was--

Hello, Banner.

Bruce's eyes flew open and his legs crumbled.

"Bruce--!"

Steve was right behind him, rubbing his back, telling him to take deep breaths but he couldn't hear him, he felt him. It took time, but really, what was time? An idea, a construct. Beats of measurement on a musical scale...he stuffed down a nervous giggle threatening to bubble from his chest.

He'd have to explain it when he didn't fully understand.

Stop lying, you know full well who I am. Good god, Banner, you're almost as dramatic as Tony.

He shook again but what...was true? What was happening now--? No...no. He had knowledge, and knowledge was truth and power.

Are you sure?

"S-stop speaking," he said out loud, and he felt Steve's hand still across his back. "No, I meant...dammit."

He breathed deep, meditative breaths that he'd normally do during his asanas. Feeling returned to his body. His fleeting senses returned. Sight. Taste. Smell. Sound. "Steve," he began, when it felt safe enough. "You need...to know something. I hate explaining it and I don't like it...but. It makes sense now. Of course it makes sense."

"To you, maybe."

Bruce did laugh, too nervously, but he cautiously took Steve's hand. "Hold me, okay?" He whispered. "Hold me tight and be patient. This is going to be a lot to take in, and it's a lot for me to discuss." The light bulb went on and he shuddered against Steve's chest. "Ahh. I get it. That's why Tony...yes. Now I get why he left."

"But I don't!"

Bruce chuckled nervously and drew Steve's arms around his shoulder. "It's story time, Steve."

At age three, the abuse began because Brian Banner was a Tier One asshole and stole Bruce's life. Well, that's not fair. The circumstance created a second life, and Bruce added it. Three lives now, if he believed the current scenario. He'd never really openly spoke about the other parts but now was the time. He'd have no second chances.

"It wasn't...it wasn't entirely physical abuse," Bruce whispered. Steve's lashes were moist and Bruce could feel his boyfriend's heart beating. It was solid, steady, and strong. Beating like a kettle drum. "I don't talk about it, because..." Bruce sighed. His hands felt cold, but he could do this. He had to. "I didn't tell Mom. I wish I had. We might've left earlier if she--"

"I'm here, I'm not going away," Steve reiterated. He could feel Steve's lips scrape through his curls, feel his warm cheek transferring its warmth. "I love you, regardless. That won't ever stop. No matter what."

"Brian..." and Bruce shuddered at the memory. "Brian was fond of using 'tools' to see how I reacted. To test my 'humanity.' I was. Fuck, Steve. I wasn't even five and some days I couldn't sit because of what he...did. It was easier to disappear into myself. Someone Else could take what I couldn't."

Steve's hand stopped its administrations and Bruce closed his eyes. He knew it was all part of his abusive past but he couldn't help feeling Steve was disappointed in him. His head knew it wasn't true, but his heart...

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured. Bruce realized his scalp felt wet. At first he wasn't sure, but the small hitch and shuddered breath from Steve proved it. "I'm so, so sorry, Bruce."

Bruce squeezed Steve's arm. "It's okay," he said, but it still wasn't. After all these years it wasn't. Would never be okay.

It was why he would never be whole. Or complete. Just separately hurting pieces trying their hardest to exist.

Now you just sound pathetic, Banner. I can Front, if you're unwilling.

Quiet. You're not the Core. I am.

His response surprised them both, and the...Professor (yes, that Name felt right; he could "hear" Professor's confirmation of his name despite his lack of sibilants) slinking back to the quieter sections of his head.

We are...us. I get it. But from now on, no more hiding from me. We have to team up.

He felt something new churn in his mind, earthy and feather light. Like a gentle breeze with hints of petrichor. He could name it now. And naming was Power.

So be it, Professor acknowledged.

We have a lot of work to do and damages to reverse. So follow my lead.

Bruce tapped Steve's arm. "C'mon," he whispered. "I'll be okay. It's something that happened to me. It's horrible. It makes me sick to my stomach. And," he sighed, "it split my psyche. I think in threes, I guess." He tapped his head. "Three people have my address, if that makes sense."

Steve kissed his head. "Not really...but I love you. More than ever, maybe. You're the strongest man I know, Bruce Banner. Not because of the Hulk. Despite Hulk."

"Hmm," Bruce sighed. He settled into Steve's arms and explained the curiousness of DID and how it worked for him, and how he functioned in the System as the Core. But the other part of him - Professor, probably - had begun scheming behind the scenes.

"So this...DID?" Steve was still a bit snuffly but Bruce gently squeezed his arm. He loved seeing Steve's gentle side, even if it was at his own expense. "I'm not sure I follow. How does this explain Tony leaving?"

Bruce's smile curled the edges of his lips but the sadness was there. "I...may have scared him. Or rather my 'Person' did." He air-quoted so Steve could understand the context.

"You think so?"

Bruce licked his lips. "You saw how I reacted, right? Imagine if you were in Tony's shoes, seeing this guy for the first time. When I didn't even know he was there."

Steve got quiet, and Bruce lumbered to his feet. "Speaking of...we need to finish the video." He searched in his mind for Professor, but only felt an uncertain tickle there.

Care to share with the class, Professor?

Nothing.

Probably wants me to see his damage. Bruce was angry, but not surprised. He drew in his brows and held out his hand to Steve. "I’m not sure what to expect next, but I'd appreciate your support."

"You know you have it. You've always had it, Muffin." Steve grabbed his hand and Bruce yanked him to his feet. "You have any suspicions?"

Shaking his head, Bruce slowly approached the video screen. Professor was in stasis, staring at his hands as if he knew what would happen next. This was a chess master, Bruce realized, in for the long haul. Maybe Professor was as neutral as he said but he was damn good at pulling strings Bruce didn't know about. And that made this Person particularly dangerous.

"All right, Jarvis," Bruce sighed. He remained standing while Steve came behind him and cuddled him close. He almost felt smothered in Steve's strong arms but he needed it. He needed to feel warm. Feel real.

Like the Velveteen Rabbit.

"Go ahead. Start it up again. Let's see what he has to say for himself."

#polyamory #chubby bruce fic #infundoau #chubby bruce banner #steve rogers #tony stark #bruce banner #american pi #science bros #hulk #stark spangled banner #bhm #chubby kink #syzygy #starkspangledbanner syzygy #professor hulk

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lostbutterflyutau · 6 years ago

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Character Colour Palette: Carla Delgado

Note: This was sparked by the discussion of character designs and colour meanings on Episode Four of The Magic Within Podcast. Their discussion got me thinking, obviously, about my girl and what her colour palette might mean. So,I’d like to say Thank You to the Podcast Princesses for their cool segment!

First Outfit

Carla’s first outfit is a mix of different colours, with the main colour being yellow. The colour Yellow is said to have conflicting associations. While it generally represents sunshine, hope and happiness…none of which really apply to Carla at this particular point in her story, it can also represent energy, which she certainly has a lot of. Carla is fierce, feisty and is the only one on Team Shuriki who’s having none of Shuriki’s crap. She grows increasingly annoyed with her father’s loyalty to the sorceress, openly talks back to her and is just an overall pain in the ass. (And I love it!) She’s young and passionate and just has a lot of energy that would be a great asset if channeled properly. But, I digress. The colour can also represent honour and loyalty, which seem like strange traits to describe Carla, but hear me out. Carla is fiercely loyal to her father. Or, rather, they’re loyal to each other. Despite all her doubts, she goes along with his plans and they never leave the other behind. On the other hand, yellow can also represent cowardice and deceit, which needs little explanation. Carla was raised as a thief. She was born into a life of criminality and always on the run. She’s a master manipulator and a flirt who knows how to get what she wants through deceitful means. The whole Spy in the Palace trilogy shows this well.

Additionally, a dull yellow, like what Carla wears can also represent caution and jealousy. Jealousy in particular is something she’s shown to be privy to. Once the dynamic shifts and it’s no longer just her and her father, she gets aggravated. For as long as she can remember, it’s always been two, her and Victor, and then Shuriki and Fiero join the fray and she’s shoved aside. Yeah, that doesn’t work for Carla. She doesn’t like being shoved off and certainly doesn’t like being number two to Fiero’s number one.

Carla’s second major colour is black. Black is associated with fear, mystery, strength, authority, evil, aggression, and rebellion. Now that’s a lot to break down. But, some of the traits go hand in hand. Obviously, Carla’s (current) alignment is evil, and with it she wants to strike fear into others, gain respect and hold authority and power. At least, that appears to be the path they are going down. She’s always been told that ambition and power will get her what she wants, so she strives for these things, which leads us to rebellion. Her alignment in itself is a rebellion, along with the way she was raised. She’s going against the rules and norms of society, making her way by thieving, scheming and conning alongside her father. Additionally, Black often represents the emotions and actions of rebellion in teenagers, which Carla is. As previously stated, she openly rebels against Shuriki and has no problems talking back. Carla is very strong and opinionated and hates being shoved around.

Black is a mysterious colour, typically associated with the unknown and negative. Now, this is interesting to me, because, beyond the obvious negativity and aggression, I believe there is some mystery to be talked about. This may be my bias talking, but Carla is one of those characters that I believe has more to say what’s on the surface. We don’t know a whole lot about her, her life experience and more importantly, her mother, which I believe is a big part of the puzzle that is Carla Delgado. There’s this whole cloud of mystery surrounding her that we have yet to unravel.

To finish it off, we have small splashes of orange, red and green. One meaning for Orange is creativity. As shown in A Spy in the Palace trilogy, Carla is actually very creative. Not only in her scheming, but also when it comes to projects and crafts, though she seems to dislike the latter. She designed a whole new banner for the Jaquin festival and was said to be helping with decorations for other events throughout her time in the palace. It is also said to be vibrant and flamboyant, which fits in the sense that Carla can be a bit…extra. She definitely has a touch of drama queen in her.

The subtle hints of Red are representative of several things. On the positive end, we have Carla’s leadership, determination, willpower, and confidence. Carla harbours traits that I believe, if channeled correctly, would make her a great leader. When she knows what she wants, she’s determined and hardworking and will do whatever she can to get it, such as in The Jewel of Maru, when she refused to give in until she got the jewel that she was told would get her power. She kept going even when her father wanted to just give up.

On the negative end, we have rage, malice and wrath. Carla has one heck of a temper and is likely the type of person to hold grudges. The way she glares at Shuriki is enough to tell you this. Being a villain, malice and wrath are part of the deal. Her actions against Naomi during the preparations for the Jaquin festival show this well as she purposely and maliciously breaks everything apart simply to make Naomi look bad and ultimately get what she wants with no regard for anyone’s feelings.

Lastly is Green. Green is said to represent a lack of experience and need growth, which seems like a weird thing to point out, but, being young, I believe Carla has a lot of room for growth. We see this in Realm of the Jaquins where, not knowing anything of her father’s plans, Carla spends time berating him with questions, not being able to see how each piece of the plan is meant to connect to the others. Even asking if it was wise for them to return to Avalor after what happened last time. Her inexperience is shown in the way she sometimes jumps into things without thinking. But, green can also be associated with greed and jealousy, two of Carla’s prominent negative traits.

Second (Malvago) Outfit

Carla’s Malvago robe is different shades of purple. The color purple is often associated with nobility, luxury, power, and ambition. Purple also represents meanings of wealth, extravagance, creativity, dignity, devotion, pride, mystery, independence, and magic. Some of which, namely mystery and creativity, I have already covered.

The two that stick out the most here are magic and power. Carla started wearing this colour after she was granted dark magic by Fiero, which she is shown to be quiet adept at after a few early mistakes. These powers seem to give her a boost of confidence and only fuel her ambitions. Magic gives her a new skill set to use in her and Victor’s climb to power. Speaking of her father, as mentioned previously, she’s loyal to him. It’s subtle, but they do honestly love and care for one another. And she’s devoted not only to him, but their overall goal, doing whatever she can to be included in the overall plan, even outright telling Shuriki that she has a “clear shot” to bring down Elena in Song of the Sirenas.

As far as nobility and luxury are concerned, that’s less what she is, and more what she’s striving towards. She wants to truly be someone, and not just someone, but royalty. After all, in Don’t Look Now, she says she’s “coming for the throne.”

Dignity and pride go hand in hand for Carla. She’s a very prideful person, and doesn’t appear to fluster easily. In fact, she tends to get defensive rather than deal with embarrassment. Even when in the wrong, she holds onto her pride. In Race for the Realm when Victor brushes her off, says to “leave the spell casting” to him, she doesn’t listen, instead casts the spell in part to spite him and prove she can do it and make up for her first failure.

Different shades are also said to hold different meanings. Light purple hues represent feminine energy and delicacy. Dark purple hues evoke feelings of gloom, sadness, and frustration. Bright purple suggest riches and royalty. All things we’ve seen in Carla at one point or another. She’s a flirt who can use her feminine charms to her advantage. The endless failed schemes on the rise to power frustrate her. In fact, she frustrates easily in part because of her impatience. And, as stated, riches and royalty is what she’s striving for. The dream that she’s always been told she wanted and is eagerly chasing.

Lastly, there’s hints of white on the outfit as well. Now this one was a little more difficult to figure out, but, ultimately, I think it may be used as a hint of things to come. White is typically used to represent humility and purity, but can also represent new beginnings, brilliance and understanding. I’m just going to leave it at that. We all know I have a lot of feelings about Carla, but since we’re talking about canon designs and details, I’m going to leave speculation out of it.

#Elena of Avalor #carla delgado #magic within podcast #pizzansunshine #lovelyrugbee #missnobodynobodius #chrissybell648 #podcastprincesses #magic within squad #colour palette #character design #yeah i did the thing

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siobhaneardley · 6 years ago

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Religion’s Rocky Relationship with Horror Film: The Conjuring & [REC].

The horror genre has had ties with religion, going back to its roots in Gothic literature. The vampires in Dracula were warded off by religious icons and holy water and possession is often the work of the devil. Religion is often the saving force; the priest exorcises the devil and crucifixes repel the advances of the blood sucking vampires. However, what happens when religion can’t save the day?

In an increasingly secular society, horror films have changed their representations of religion, either becoming suspicious of it, or scrambling to portray religion as the saviour in horrific situations. Two contemporary horror film franchises, one American, one Spanish show both sides of this. James Wan’s The Conjuring and Balaguero & Plaza’s [REC]. Although these films are wholly different in style and subject matter, this contrast enlightening when looking at how horror can interact with religion.

[REC] is a found footage film, shot by a journalist documenting a night in the life of a Barcelona fire station. They are called out to an apartment block, which is very quickly put under quarantine upon their arrival. Over the course of the film we discover that a deadly infection is spreading around the apartment block, seemingly originating in one of the residents’ dog. From this, the audience assumes rabies, which is a common explanation for zombie movies, and in this case, the horrific and animalistic nature of these ‘zombies’ does not dispute this. On the surface, [REC] appears to be a zombie apocalypse film and it pretty much is, until the end segment of the film.

As the film reaches its climax the filmmakers enter the penthouse to find a room filled with religious iconography alongside newspaper clippings reporting a girl possessed. This immediately switches this film from your typical zombie apocalypse film, alluding to something more sinister. On watching this part for the first time, I just thought that they were trying to give a religious explanation for the infection, it was just a misinterpretation, however on viewing [REC]2 it explicitly connects the infection with demonic possession.

I don’t know about anyone else, but for some reason the film became 100% creepier as soon as they entered the penthouse and saw what looked like a conspiracy theorists obsession, paired with the log of a Vatican agent on old tapes playing in the background. This mystery is completely unexpected and turns the whole film on its head.

But why bring religion into what, on the surface appears to be a mere zombie outbreak movie? The answer can be found in Spain’s political past. Spain was under the control of dictator Francisco Franco from 1936 to 1975. Franco took power after the Nationalist victory in the Spanish Civil war, his rule emphasised conservative values, including putting a great deal of importance on Catholicism, which was the national religion during his rule. Films during his reign were heavily censored, sex, politics and religion were all no-go areas in films made in Spain during this period. After his death in 1975, there was a great change in Spain, with the country becoming more liberal (Scarlett, 113). However, Elizabeth Scarlett in Religion and Spanish Film states that although Spain somewhat abandoned Catholicism, “the motifs of Catholicism were never abandoned” and states that Catholicism is ingrained in the works of Spanish directors (171).

Therefore, [REC]’s religious imagery does not simply contain this to evoke an ominous feeling in the viewer, it is because of the lingering national Catholicism of Spain. However, in this case Catholicism is not presented as the saviour, in fact, it is the very cause of what occurs in the apartment block.

The source of the infection is the girl in the newspaper cuttings who is apparently possessed by demons, the agent kidnaps her and attempts to find a cure for the apparent biological demonic possession, however, this only makes the enzyme mutate and become highly infectious. Andy Willis suggests that for Spain with its religious history, “such references would potentially have great significance for certain members of the audience who might be willing to believe in a potential Vatican inspired conspiracy rather than excepting a supernatural rationale for the virus” (58). Does this belief, therefore lie in the potential distrust that people may feel for religion, as they had been repressed by it for years?

There is only a hint of the religious involvement in the first film, we are presented with mere speculation, however, the sequel builds upon the conspiracy providing more information about the Vatican involvement in the infection, shedding light on the seemingly demonic origins.

We hear the infected people speak in a demonic voice, repelled by items of religious significance, which immediately takes the film into the realm of the demonic and consequently heavily religious. Something that can have a voice and act in such an animalistic manner is wholly disturbing, and although the mystery is being revealed, the eeriness is still there.

Although The Conjuring may seem quite far removed in tone and style to [REC], the theme of demonic possession is at the centre of both narratives. On its release in 2013, The Conjuring was a huge hit, grossing $319.5 million worldwide, $137.4 million of that from the US. What is it about this film makes it so endearing to audiences?

I have always loved a good supernatural horror film, and this is an excellently made one. Yes, it is scary, but for me a well thought out narrative is always what I look for in a horror film. I was also rather drawn to the characters of Ed and Lorraine, played wonderfully by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga. Although the characters of Ed and Lorraine are based on real people I still view the film as a work of fiction, because I don’t believe in mediums, or ghosts for that matter, as much as I would like to.

For others the story may seem completely plausible, if you believe in ghosts, God and the devil. The film is so heavily saturated with religious imagery and the script, written by the Hayes brothers (who are very Christian) are not afraid to admit that The Conjuring is a film heavily influenced by Christian values, if not a light piece of Christian propaganda. In an interview Chad Hayes stated that “we want people after experiencing our movie to question, where are they? Where am I in my own faith? Where am I in my belief? The Lord has authority overall, and so here we are”.

Being party to this information has changed the way I view the film. I must admit I am rather put out by the fact I was drawn into a film filled with this kind of preaching. There is one point where Ed looks worryingly at the father of the haunted family after he says none of the kids are baptised, essentially implying they have set themselves up for possession because they are not part of the church; providing a strange narrative based on the notion that the US is losing its faith.

The basic premise of The Conjuring films is that religion can save the day. I did notice this a lot more on watching the second one, but on re-watching the first one it is so stark. The almost saint-like depiction of Lorraine is perhaps the most apparent, more so in the second film in which she is the almost spiritual guider to the young girl who is being possessed by the demon, she acts as a kind of motherly saviour and martyr, who has suffered greatly due to her God-given gift.

The US is lead by religion, it is seen in every element of their culture, from the puritans to the present day. Politics is saturated by religion and is used to justify so many things for example, the continued control over women’s bodies. Now, with the ever-changing world religion is slowly being rejected by many, mainly the youth of the country, the emphasis on religion is going down. The Conjuring appears to be a comment on this, whilst also desperately attempting to re-ignite the countries faith. But did it work? The success of the film does make me wonder, but were the film goers flocking to the cinema due to the religious nature of the film, or just for the scares?

With two films centered around demonic possession there are interesting notes to make about their countries relation to religion. One that has rejected Catholicism and is therefore suspicious and not afraid to critique it, and the other desperately clinging to religion, attempting to scare the audiences into thinking that God can save you from demons. With all that in mind, religion does evoke such a sense of fear in horror viewers, whether they are faithful or not. I for one, would love to see more mainstream horror films in the vein of [REC], openly critiquing religion, rather than so many narratives where religion is the saviour, when in fact, it causes most of the world’s problems right now.

By Siobhan Eardley.

Works Referenced:

Goodwyn, Hannah. “Screenwriters Chad and Carey Hayes on The Conjuring and God”. CBN.com.

The Conjuring. Dir James Wan (2013).

The Conjuring 2. Dir James Wan (2016).

[REC]. Dir. Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza (2007).

[REC]2. Dir. Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza (2009).

Scarlett, Elizabeth. Religion and Spanish Film. Michigan. UP of Michigan Press: 2014, JSTOR. Web.

Wills, Andy. Transnational Film Remakes. Edinburgh. Edinburgh UP: 2017. JSTOR. Web.

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zonamievents · 7 years ago

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ZoNami Analysis: Before They Even Met

Hello everyone! Welcome to my new series of posts, where I discuss every Zoro and Nami moment to have ever occurred in the entire series of One Piece. Any scene can merely be friendly, but perhaps we can uncover a hint of something more between them as we go through it all? Let’s find out on this journey together!

Also, I am aware that koukihime has done a similar series on her website, zoroxnami.weebly.com. However, I wanted to perform my own analysis of Zoro and Nami’s relationship, so please bear with me if there are any accidental similarities. Thanks!

Our first topic is actually going to take us back to before Zoro and Nami ever encountered each other, to a time when the swordsman was the only member of the Straw Hat crew, aside from Luffy himself.

We start at Chapter 8 of the series, appropriately named “Nami”. After setting sail in their puny sailboat, Luffy and Zoro are ready to officially begin their lives of piracy! Of course, Luffy decides to bring up his stomach, while Zoro calls Luffy out on his surprising lack of navigational skills.

Luffy throws the question back at the swordsman, who tries to sound cool as he talks about “following a pirate out to sea” and earning money along the way…

…but Luffy bluntly unveils the hidden meaning behind his crew mate’s words: that he doesn’t know his way around the sea either.

As they gripe about their hunger after their fruitless conversation comes to an end, Luffy spies a bird, tries to catch it for their next meal and ends up getting carried away in the process! Zoro has no choice but to row their little boat after him! But along the way, he encounters three men stranded out at sea. They manage to hop on board and try to commandeer the boat…

As if that was going to happen.

They end up rowing for Zoro, who then turns around and asks how they were marooned in the middle of the ocean. Instantly riled up, the men tell Zoro how they were tricked by a looker of a woman!

The three men are all having a meltdown about what happened, but leave it to Zoro to focus on the most important aspect of their story: they encountered a navigator who was talented enough to use the weather as a weapon.

Now, the anime completely ignores everything I’ve mentioned here. Zoro doesn’t talk about needing a navigator, nor does he get to hear about Nami from Buggy’s pirates. There will be moments where we discuss the differences in characterizations between the anime and the manga, however, I’m simply going to focus on the manga for the prologue to my analysis series since it comes directly from Oda-sensei himself.

Some may say that this doesn’t really mean anything, that it holds no significance, especially since it isn’t even featured in the anime.

Sure, that’s valid.

It can totally seem like a waste of time to talk about.

If you’re not a ZoNa shipper, there probably IS nothing more than what it is on the surface.

Thankfully, I am heavily invested in digging into anything and everything related to Zoro and Nami!

Yes, I would agree that it makes logical sense for anyone other than Luffy to bring up the need for a navigator. But the fact that Zoro does it is very interesting, as Luffy uncovers that he was lost for most of if not all of his time prior to joining Luffy. It is quite telling for an author to use opposition to relate characters to one another.

Zoro’s only character flaw thus far relates him to Nami’s greatest strength.

Zoro is written to be Nami’s foil from the very start. That is most definitely not his only purpose, but his lack of directional sense is so catastrophic that we see in later moments of the series how it creates problems for not only the crew but for Nami herself.

They haven’t even met yet and Oda-sensei has designed their relationship to be one that already holds friction and challenges and opportunities for all sorts of scenarios. We can also draw upon the fact that Zoro’s greatest strength – his literal physical strength – counters Nami’s lack of combative skill, since she has left him to handle many battles and forces him to sub in for her when need be.

But we’ll stay focused on the topic of directional sense for now.

It is a totally legitimate writing tool to create characters who are each other’s foil, as it gives depth to their interactions without needing to supply them with constant storylines – just their conversations alone spice up any scene they share together.

Here is an example of what it means to have characters act as foils to one another, from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet:

The example at the bottom of the image relates to their first pair of opposing traits mentioned, being Benvolio’s passiveness facing off against Tybalt’s aggressive nature. Tybalt dominates the opening scene by doing his damnedest to instigate a fight between the Montagues and the Capulets, despite Benvolio’s wish to avoid any discourse.

Regardless of them being from opposing houses in the story, it is clear that these two were meant to show the ends of a spectrum – peacefulness versus antagonism. In this one scene, we understand how drastically these two will influence the plot moving forward due to the way they clearly standoff in both their natures and the way they observe and understand the scenes they are placed in.

Zoro and Nami may not be as dramatic as Romeo and Juliet’s first scene, but it goes to show how having two character foils interact with one another can not only create excitement in a scene, it can also present tension between them in a way that is signature to their relationship in the story.

Which leads me to what I really want to mention: the fact that this is used as a motivation in plenty of romantic storylines too.

To quote author Joanna Penn:

Friction between two people can also be a good thing. Attraction, desire, love and lust supply the heartbeat to many a novel. Anticipation can be nerve wracking in a good way, and competition can spur characters on to do their very best. So whether friction is a healthy manifestation of desire and need or filled with unhealthy disagreements, power struggles, and the quest to dominate, readers are pulled in.

Zoro and Nami aren’t the only two who are opposites of one another in One Piece, let alone the crew.

Sanji can cook and Luffy cannot, despite how much he desperately needs to eat.

Robin is a rather serious person who cannot always stand Franky’s eccentricity, causing her to bluntly insult him at times when she cannot understand him.

Usopp’s cowardice has been known to irritate a few members of the crew, as a pirate needs to be brave in order to traverse the Grand Line, let alone the New World.

Regardless of the other oppositions we see amongst the main characters of One Piece, Zoro and Nami are clearly intertwined due to the fact that they are direct opposites of one another in terms of each of their major skill sets, and Oda-sensei knew exactly what he was doing when he made Zoro speak up about their makeshift crew needing a navigator.

At this point in One Piece’s entire history – from the early designs of Romance Dawn all the way up to this chapter – the concepts of Luffy, Nami and Zoro have existed for quite a while. Some more than others, but still, Oda-sensei has been mauling over their characters’ possibilities for a while before finalizing the draft of One Piece that we all know and love.

Meaning there was a reason he pinned Luffy’s first real crew members against each other like this.

Meaning there was an intent in his mind for making Zoro as directionally challenged as he is.

Meaning there was always a plan to create friction between these two from the very start of the serialization of One Piece.

Oda-sensei is a clever writer, one who has said in past interviews he won’t focus on romance in an action-based series. However, as we see his stance on this change over time, it will forever be interesting to note that he gave Luffy and Zoro very different introductions to Nami’s character.

Luffy, in the manga, meets Nami when she tries to make him the focus of the Buggy pirates’ rage.

Zoro, again, in the manga, gives us our first introduction to the character and praises her openly.

Though the anime does this backwards – with Luffy encountering Nami during his scuffle with Alvida in episode one, if only for a moment – and completely removes Zoro’s interaction with information about Nami, it’s clear that Oda-sensei knew what he was doing when he formatted Nami’s debut chapter this way.

It’s obvious that Oda-sensei wanted to showcase the connectivity found in the opposition of Zoro and Nami from the very moment they were both made to be showcased in the series, even before their very first moment shared on screen.

#zonami analysis #zona #zonami #zoroxnami #swordgust

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miniaturephantomprincess · 6 years ago

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Sometimes I do have to remind myself that I can actually write

I just went through a bunch of scraps and snippets and a huge pile of the awesome stuff @clockworkangel and me have been creating for our decade long head canon.

It’s obviously part of an AU, but it works without much further context as well soooo... enjoy, I guess?

She knew approaching Michiru wouldn't be easy. Minako had tried before and every attempt had failed. Aside from any official gathering Michiru ignored her. She didn't even so much as to look at her and while she and Haruka had every damn right to do so, Minako could no longer bare to be avoided like this.

She didn't hope for some kind of miracle. Minako was after all clever enough not to expect some kind of heartwarming reunion, not after everything, not after what she had done to both of them in the past. If anything Minako had to finally get these damned words out and off her chest and what better place was there to ask Michiru Kaioh for forgiveness then this?

Maybe it came with a certain irony to it, but at least that's what Minako thought Michiru seeked from this place herself. She came here frequently. Minako had found out about this rather by accident and quite some time ago. However, it at least gave an explanation to why the roses on the side never seemed to wither. White roses, the color of innocence, untouched by time. There always were 41 one of them. No more, no less, one for every name written on the memorial side.

Minako wondered for how long Michiru had brought them up here. A long time for sure, for the undying flowers had already become some strange kind of legend among the villagers. Lost in her own thoughts it caught Minako off guard when Michiru suddenly addressed her and she silently cursed herself for the second her attention had wandered off.

„What do you want.“

Michiru didn’t even bother to turn around. She had sensed Minako’s aura long before the leader of the inner senshi had approached her. Michiru’s voice however, as well as her posture was everything else then welcoming. It no longer surprised Minako, it really didn’t, yet it still send a cold shiver down her back. All of this used to be so different…

Minako straightened herself, not willing to give up just yet, not this time anyway.

„I wanted to talk.“

She half a step forward and immediately regretted her mistake as Michiru now turned with cold, blue eyes piercing merciless down at Minako’s soul.

„About what.“

Michiru barely raised her voice. She didn’t have to and Minako knew enough about Michiru’s powers to know she had to raise less than a finger to shut her up and send the sea down at her- quite literally. Yet for some reason Michiru didn’t and this gave Minako the faint illusion she might have some kind of chance.

„You know about what.“

Minako didn’t move close, but she also didn’t step back and therefore met Michiru somewhat eye to eye with all the authority and strength she could master.

„No I don’t. And it doesn’t matter for I don’t wish to hear it.“

With this Michiru turn to take her leave, distanced, unapproachable and not even willing to give Minako one chance to speak her mind. It was this very last point that silently made Minako’s fist tremble and finally made her snap. She through all her caution down with the wind.

„Michiru wait!“

Some nearby birds loudly complained and took their leave as Minako rushed to catch up with her former friend and ally.

„God damn it! Listen, I am sorry! I know this doesn’t make anything undone and I wish I could take it back, but Michiru please…“

Michiru abruptly stopped and turned again, making Minako stop in return. Everything about the atmosphere between them felt strangely dangerous. Michiru wasn’t openly aggressive towards her, yet everything about her carefully put together calmness reminded Minako at the sea right before the storm.

„Take it back?“

Michiru kept staring at her, her head tilted ever so slightly and Minako nearly expected to feel a familiar pressure on her chest or water filling her lungs with every further word.

„Tell me Minako, which part exactly?“

Minako didn’t dare to move. She didn’t even dare to speak and the simple ‚all of it‘ she had formed in her thoughts, even if it was the truth, suddenly felt plain and flat without any meaning.

„The days of torture? The living hell you send her through? Every second of every day you broke her? All those nights her mind wanders back to it and she wakes up screaming and terrified at a place where your chains hold her down and even I can’t reach her?“

She never would be able to argue against Michiru’s accusation, yet still every last one of them hurt. To know what she had done to Haruka, who had called one of her closest friends…it was still different to hear Michiru throw all of it back to her. Minako swallowed hard as she forced back the memories that had come back for her. They would hunt her later she knew, but right now she couldn’t deal with both her guilt and Michiru standing infront of her.

„You need to believe me Michiru.“

Somehow Minako still found enough courage and strength not to back away.

„If I could do anything to help her I would have done it already and a long time ago!“

She had tried.. she had wanted to take at least some part of the pain and suffering she caused away. The fanatic damage she had done however was way deeper and by now had eaten and buried itself deep into Haruka’s very existence and soul.Into this last parts that had not completely vanished.

„It doesn’t matter.“

Michiru’s voice was sharp, her words some kind of eternal judgement in which clearly wasn’t any sympathy or pity left for Minako who so desperately tried to fix whatever bond she still saw between them. After all it was nothing more than a fool’s phantasy, never to come true, never again to be real and Michiru didn’t see the point why she should even spend one more second mourning some kind of friendship that had been lost long ago.

„Michiru please… I came to ask for forgiveness…We are all senshi after all. We are meant to protect this world together!“

Minako knew by now she didn’t have any right to appeal to Michiru’s kindness or anything along that thought. Yet as her former friendship no longer meant anything, maybe it was at least her duty as a soldier Minako could call upon. Michiru’s opinion however clearly also differed in this point as well.

„We might be, but all your comradeship was a farce to begin with. It is still.“

In these times the rift between them had become clearer then ever. Maybe they had been friends at some point; maybe even Michiru would have said so. For quite some time even she had been lured into this comfortable and happy feeling, but what had happened recently had not only strengthened her power and tested them all, but it also made Michiru see more clearly now. Ever since chaos had spread their little community had start to crumple. Each of them carried an own shadow into their hearts, and even after their victory distrust was rooted deep. It corrupted them all from the beginning and Michiru could even feel it now.

„That’s not true. We all have been friends!“

Michiru thought Minako to sound too much like her princess now, and while she had stopped counting how often Usagi had hold this pledge to her, she sighed rather annoyed for Minako, who should know better, trying the same.

„Listen, we all screwed up; like…really bad and in an unspeakable and horrible way. If it wouldn’t have been for you guys we would have brought Crystal Tokyo to ruins, but out of everyone, shouldn’t you be the one to understand?“

Minako now longer knew which part of Michiru she tried to reach - the one that used to be her friend, or the soldier resting within. Both of it however proofed to be a poor choice, for Michiru never even questioned why Venus and her Inners fell together with their princess.

„I understand. I know why you did what you did.“

Minako didn’t quite believe the words she just had witnessed. They were the faintest hint of a connection Michiru had denied her for month now, but it also was a bridge to be torn down before her as Michiru continued.

„But tell me Minako, when did you ever truly forgive us for Galaxia?“

Michiru never even expected an answer. One way or the other they both knew the truth already and for Michiru it was a simple pleasure to see the young woman in front of her defeated.

„I am not the princess. I do not share her forgiveness.“

Thanks for dropping by! I hope you had a good time and maybe liked it?

If you want to share your thoughts just go ahead ^^

#welcome to our head canon #some parts at least #thanks for enduring me for such a long time <3 #because I don't say this enough #<3 <3 <3 #clockworkangel #personal headcanon #writing #welcome to out head canon #Michiru Kaioh #minako aino

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therunawayscamp · 6 years ago

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Mr Casethar has an Interview with Captain R’khan Concerning the Author, Mr Vilayn.

That sort of thing was the sum of my conversations with Casethar for the next few months. Whenever I heard him speak to anyone it got worse – he was professional, and intelligent, and efficient, and honest, and everything else which makes me feel the need for a swim in the coldest ocean I can find as soon as possible – so I avoided talking with him at all. In fact I wasn't brave enough to open my mouth around him except to give him orders, or to upbraid him for a fault, or to insult him on an imagined pretext, hoping to convince the captain – and maybe myself – that there could not possibly be any interest between us whatsoever. It was a sort of pre-emptive defence. I think I knew really that I would make a mistake eventually, but if Captain R'khan believed I found Casethar particularly irksome, he might not attach any meaning to it should I accidentally drop in a compliment, or smile at him, or get drunk as Sanguine during shore leave and deliver an embarrassingly long and rambling speech detailing all the intricacies of my feelings for him while he was carrying me back to bed. One of those three things happened and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't the first two.

Casethar has told me since that on the same day, before we left the brig, he went to visit the captain in his quarters. Obviously the ship's cook visiting the captain in his own cabin is not the done thing, by which I mean it goes against all naval etiquette and a lesser mer would have been strung up on the mainmast for his impertinence, but Casethar had earned himself a reputation. Unlike whoever our current cook is (the name escapes me),

who can take some old biscuits and seaweed and somehow make them worse, Casethar can take some old biscuits and seaweed and turn them into something you would be happy to serve the King of Morrowind. Samphire and crouton salad, with a Breton dressing distilled from Shein and seasalt – that sort of thing. It makes my mouth water thinking about it so I should probably remember what my point was and get back to it.

Casethar, the captain, yes. Right. So given Casethar's talents, the captain was prepared to entertain his request for a private conversation. It also helped that Casethar was one of the most formal and well-behaved sailors on board. He saluted when he walked into the captain's quarters, a salute so sharp you could win a sword fight with it.

'Captain.'

'Mr Casethar. Sit down.'

You will note that the captain remembered Casethar's name. I have nothing but praise for our captain, praise and admiration and respect. I merely mention this detail because normally, trivialities as unimportant as a cook's name would be beneath him, so this mark of recognition was high praise indeed, as was the invitation to sit in his presence. Casethar lowered himself into the chair which sits forrard of the captain's great desk and sat bolt upright.

'I wanted to apologise, captain.'

The captain, who had been expecting a request for a larger share of the voyage's profits and was almost prepared to grant it, didn't do anything so common as to look surprised, but he did stroke his moustache.

'What for?'

'My work is not up to the standard it should be.'

'What makes you think that? Meets all of my standards, and if anyone aboard has standards more important than mine I'd like to meet 'em so I can throw 'em to the slaughterfish. Can't think who that'd be, though. Not only is the crew fed, which is all I asks, but they're happy, which is a bonus.'

I'm going to assume Casethar had a conflicted pause here while he decided whether or not to mention my name. If he didn't we will need to have Words when I get home.

'It's... Mr Vilayn, captain.'

'What about him?'

'Not him personally, captain. But I'm afraid he isn't happy with my work.'

'Really? Said to me just yesterday he'd never eaten better.'

As it turns out, I may have been less subtle in my adoration of Casethar than I believed at the time, but at least I restricted it to his food rather than the mer himself. This announcement was not what Casethar expected, I can confirm that much. He ran a hand over the tattoos on his head.

'He did? Captain? He told me if I kept using our supplies so quickly he'd have me paying for them out of my share.'

'That's for Mr Azareth to decide, and Mr Azareth informs me he has never known somebody make so much out of so little.'

'It’s not just that, captain. I apologise for saying so, but I can't do anything right for Mr Vilayn. Perhaps it would be better if I left your service.'

Now that I think about it I believe I may have felt the ship rock from all the way up on the weather deck when the captain slammed his hand against his desk.

'I don't bloody well think so. I'll tell Mr Vilayn to correct his behaviour first, and if he's insulted you that much I'll have him--'

'Permission to speak freely, captain?'

Interrupting the captain mid-tirade is another bit of risky business, the sort of thing usually only attempted by Mr Drasonval when we are actually in the process of capsizing. Once again, R'khan didn't notice something that would usually trigger one of his twisted, impatient smiles, and nodded.

'Go ahead.'

'I've nothing against the first mate. I'm sure if he criticises me it must be justified. I would like time to speak with him openly before any punishment is inflicted on him.'

Have I mentioned that in addition to being intelligent and efficient and all those other things, Casethar is patient and understanding and forgiving? The captain pinched his moustache and sighed through his nostrils.

'I'll send the two of you ashore early to pick up supplies. We'll meet at the cornerclub, or tavern or whatever they call it in whichever blasted province we're in, and if you haven't been able to make him see reason by the time I arrive, I will deal with the situation as I see fit.'

'Aye aye, captain.'

I took some convincing to leave the brig in the second mate's hands for the process of dropping anchor, I admit, but when the only reason the captain gives for asking you to leave your post at such a critical point is because I bloody said so you must admit a person has a right to be curious. Even so, I couldn't disobey a direct order, so I took Casethar ashore in the boat and that is how we came to have our first real time alone.

#the works of master vilayn #casethar

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hcpefulmarshmallow · 7 years ago

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Time for another trip to Headcanon Island. Only today, it’s not such a nice one. If you genuinely don’t care why I’m addressing these things and why it took so long, skip down to the line. Under a read more because length and triggers.

It’s not uncommon for me to address popular fanon on this blog, and either ratify or refute based on my own, humble opinions. And because we’re dealing with Ko, and with DR, we’ve tackled some pretty heavy things. But those heavy things have almost exclusively been restricted to what canon hints at directly. That still leave a LOT open for interpretation, and boy do people interpret.

There are a lot of things I’ve seen floating around about things that may or may not be a factor for Komaeda, that I simply haven’t touched. Thus far, it hasn’t been necessary. And these are some heavy, ugly topics; and I’m not certain that I was wholly prepared to address them before. I have a deep disdain for the way some things are represented by people. The need to add more trauma for the Angst Factor, while not treating the source issues with any real care. Rather, they become a sort of accessory to make the character unique and interesting. For the record, I’m not calling anyone out here -- I’ve selected who I follow carefully, so if we interact, I already have great respect for the way you wield your character, and any real-world issues that may or may not be present in their stories.

However, I’m very conscious of falling into this trap myself. I don’t want my character to suffer from real-world afflictions that take a toll to read and write, if there’s no ultimate payoff. No development or regression, no resolution, essentially no difference whatsoever.

So I took my time with these opinions. They’ve been formed over a lot of thought and listening and comprehending; and waiting until I had the words for them.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

With that out of the way, I just want to say a few more things:

One, normally I’m happy for people to reblog my HCs, but I must ask that you refrain from doing so in this instance. You’re welcome to adopt any of the below into your own perception but I want this post staying where it is. I feel like it’d go against what I’m trying to do.

Two, I don’t think I need to say this, but strong trigger warnings are in place. I mean the real kind; not that someone might get offended by, but that if you’re sensitive to sensitive material, you might want to go look through our Humour tag instead.

Three, the Tragedy is excluded from this. Some things would be slightly different pre- or post-, though I won’t explore that heavily today, but I think taking his Despair state of mind and applying it to his normal self is a little redundant.

And finally, this is just my own interpretation of things. I’m not trying to stomp on anyone else’s HCs, and you’re more than welcome to disagree. At the end of the day, Komaeda is tragically fictional. There’s only so much we can call “true”.

Suicide:

I’ve seen it said a lot that Komaeda suffers from suicidal ideation. And I think this one is pretty much confirmed by canon, to be honest. He expresses his desire to be free of his luck cycle; to die for a good cause rather than alone from some illness. However, I don’t think he’ll necessarily do anything about it directly. It’s important to remember that Nagito truly, in his heart of hearts, feels like a worthless nothing, with only worthless nothing to give. He has but one thing of value, and that is the breath in his lungs - and he knows he won’t have that for long. It would go against all that shining hope he believes in, if he were to take his own life needlessly. However, that doesn’t stop him from being reckless and putting himself in situations where his death becomes an immediate possibility, and would benefit somebody else.

Self Harm:

I don’t believe Nagito goes out of his way to hurt himself in the more, for lack of a better word, ‘traditional’ way. When one mentions self harm, most people think of a blade and a lot of blood. Once again, that would feel too much like giving in to despair. However, he does a lot of things, consciously and subconsciously, to punish himself and feed that deep-seated sense of utter self-loathing he has. But isn’t that also like giving into despair? Yes, but less openly, because he’s a hypocrite about this kind of thing.

The way he puts himself down is part of it. He’s sabotaging any chance he has of the one thing he wants - a close relationship. He doesn’t take very good care of himself. Sometimes, he legitimately forgets to eat because of his dementia; but other times, he just ‘forgets’. Things like hygiene are second nature due to the time he’s spent in hospital, and the obsessive compulsive tendencies he has that I’ve spoken of before; however, he constantly neglects to do other important things for himself. As stated above, he puts himself in dangerous situations. He doesn’t sleep enough (though part of that is due to nightmares); he doesn’t take painkillers when he’s hurting; he doesn’t complain when people try to hurt him. He truly feels like he deserves it.

Sexual Assault:

This one was the hardest for me to address because truthfully; I’m not convinced one way or the other. Canon makes no allusion to it, and Nagito’s attitude towards sex is a little hard to read. Possibly because there’s already so much going on in his mind. The song Zettai Kibou Birthday is set in a sexual situation, but it’s supposed to be a metaphor for a different kind of intimacy. He’s very protective of his female classmates, willing to joke but won’t force himself on anyone, and none of that tells me anything. For anyone else, I might not entertain the possibility. But here’s the thing: it’s Nagito. Anything’s possible. It’s difficult to deduce if part of his issues with touching other people and being touched (and pardon me as some of my personal headcanons get in the way here); and his nervousness about getting sexual with people, his willingness to shut up and take whatever his partner throws at him, his susceptibility to shutting down mid-act if something cuts a little to close to the bone, has anything to do with any kind of negative sexual experience. He’s a complicated boy with a complicated life. A very pretty, vulnerable, unsupervised boy with no support network or protection. You get what I’m getting at here - he would be an easy target; and with his luck, the possibility is strong. So yeah. I’m not saying something happened, I’m not saying it didn’t. But it really could have. And if it did, he’s not likely to talk about it for a very long time.

Physical/Mental/Emotional Abuse:

For this little bit, I want to just brush over: his parents, because I’ve tackled that one before as I’m sure we all remember; the serial killer incident because that speaks for itself; and anything related to HPA. For this, I want to focus specifically on the time between losing his parents and getting accepted into the school, because that’s the most ambiguous, strange part of his life that never made a lot of sense to me.

I do have somewhere, on the old version of this blog, a list of HCs about that time in his life, but it’s a little outdated and needs some revising. What better time, right?

See, when Nagito was telling Hajime about his trauma, it struck me as odd that he fluctuated between giving unusually intricate detail (“the meteor was the size of a closed fist”), to giving almost no detail at all (”then i was kidnapped then released eventually after an unspecified amount of time”). I could write a whole piece on why that might be. Perhaps some things hurt too much to talk about. Perhaps he had an ulterior motive telling Hajime these things, and cherry picked what suited his narrative best. Perhaps, as fluctuating detail is a symptom of, he’s covering something up. Or perhaps and most likely, it’s because you can only squeeze so much text into a few free time events.

Now, look, I’m no expert on the Japanese adoption system, but I do know that adopting kids out is tough. However, with Nagito’s luck, not to mention intelligence, looks, wit and giant inheritance, he wouldn’t have been that difficult in context. But does Nagito ever mention any wonderful adoptive parents, foster parents or even an especially attentive social worker? No. And if one existed, I think he would have.

It’s not unreasonable in my mind that Nagito was easy to find placement for, but difficult to keep there. Not just in foster/adoptive homes, but in group homes in general. His luck would cause havoc for everyone else there. He would have been shunted from home to home, possibly even bullied quite nastily for the things that happened when he was around. Again, canon never directly states this, but nothing else makes sense to me. Even if you’re rich, a kid is a kid, and a kid can’t just live on their own, you know? He can’t sign a lease, he can’t connect power.

That, in and of itself, would be psychological torture. Imagine losing your parents who you were never close to, and after that, having nobody in the whole wide world who wanted you? Worse, they would turn you away because of things you had no power over.

As to what happened in those homes, like I said; it’s likely he was bullied. In the anime, when Miss Y.ukizome, his closest authority figure, slaps him in the face, Nagito doesn’t seem to really react, to the pain or shock. He doesn’t even flinch. He just shuts right down, submitting to her entirely. That’s a boy that’s used to being hit. In DR2, whenever a character tells him directly to shut up, he falls silent with no further argument, until he’s given permission to speak again. That’s a boy who has been met with force when he’s tried to express himself. Even little things like when he wants to try out the swings in strawberry house, but worries the others will tell him off for it. After experiencing the story and it’s characters from Haji’s perspective, do we really think that anyone would give two shits if Nagito sat on a swing? They’d probably be thankful he wasn’t hecking things up. But he assumes he’ll be reprimanded for this innocent, simple act by default. I guess my point is, this is a boy who has not been treated very well by anybody at all.

I think that’s it for now, but if I’ve left out anything that you’re curious to know my opinion of, feel free to ask, yeah?

#(i feel sad now oops)#ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴅ [headcanons]

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fae-fucker · 7 years ago

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Shatter Me: Chapter 20-21

Chapter 20

Nothing happens in this chapter aside from Juliette whining about having to wear a dress and her and Warner Bros. having yet another conversation about how evil-but-not-evil Warner Bros. is.

Juliette: I HATE YOU I WILL NEVER RESPECT YOU

Warner Bros.: Nobody has ever loved you and I’m the only one willing to treat you with decency and respect.

Juliette: I HATE HOW RIGHT YOU ARE

That wasn’t a joke by the by. If you think “Surely Warner Bros. wouldn’t take a page right out of Emotional Manipulation 101, he’s supposed to be the good guy eventually!”, what are you even DOING on my blog?

Here’s what he says:

“The world is disgusted by you,” he says, his lips twitching with humor. “Everyone you’ve ever known has hated you. Run from you. Abandoned you. Your own parents gave up on you and volunteered your existence to be given up to the authorities. They were so desperate to get rid of you, to make you someone else’s problem, to convince themselves the abomination they raised was not, in fact, their child.”

[...]

“And yet—” He laughs openly now. “You insist on making me the bad guy.” He meets my eyes. “I am trying to help you. I’m giving you an opportunity no one would ever offer you. I’m willing to treat you as an equal. I’m willing to give you everything you could ever want, and above all else, I can put power in your hands. I can make them suffer for what they did to you.” He leans in just enough. “I can change your world.”

But it’s ok, because [insert your common excuse here]! Boyfriend goals!

He’s wrong he’s so wrong he’s more wrong than an upside-down rainbow.

Does Tahereh Mafi know about the concept of tone?

“I’ll just write this supposedly intense moment of confrontation and then make the reader conjure up bizarre and silly visuals! Makes perfect sense!”

“You might find yourself enjoying this situation a lot more than you anticipated. Lucky for you, I’m willing to be patient.” He grins. Leans back. “Though it certainly doesn’t hurt that you’re so alarmingly beautiful.”

Of course she fucking is. Bitch has been starving for 200+ days but she’s still bangable as ever! How convenient that all these YA heroines look fuckable even when they shouldn’t! But we can’t have a dirty uggo as a protagonist, can we now? Can’t have someone who shows signs of what’s been done to them physically, that’s just gross! All young girls need is more pressure on looking attractive despite feeling like shit for reasons outside of their control!

FEMINISM!

We also find out that Warner Bros. is ... nineteen.

Aight.

Chapter 21

A week passes and Warner doesn’t allow Juliette to speak to anybody but him.

Boyfriend goals!!! I literally orgasmed when I read that, guys. He’s just so HOT.

I CAN FIX HIM, MAMA.

One day Juliette asks Warner to remove the cameras in her room so she can talk to Adam freely, and Warner says that she can’t be trusted to be on her own.

*shaking violently, frothing at the mouth* BOYFRIEND GOALS!!!

Warner Bros. reminds Juliette of that time she accidentlaly murdered someone and she has an angsty flashback.

It happened at a grocery store (idk how Juliette got there without supervision or who would bring her with them on a trip to the grocery store) and there was a shitty young mother there with her child on a literal leash. The boy falls over and Juliette drops her stuff so she can help but ends up murdering the kid instead.

How very angsty. Let’s not question any of this (because boy, do I have questions) and just move on, because I’m tired of this crappy book and I want it to be over.

Juliette murdered a kid, sad sad cry cry angst angst, over it.

Juliette manages to get over it too, because she insists on having the cameras removed, which makes Warner Bros. really happy. He says some more of his typical manipulative shit about how she’s burning with hatred and power and how they’ll make a wonderful team.

I mean ... he’s right, isn’t he? Isn’t that basically what happens in the end?

So not only is this abuser not properly portrayed as one, he probably turns out to be right in the end. If not that, then Juliette will eventually learn to control her powers and accept them as tools for domination in one way or another, because that’s the power fantasy this book is peddling.

Who wouldn’t want an attractive, powerful person telling them how attractive and powerful you are and how amazing you’d be together? Juliette’s resistance at this point is just there to stretch out the conflict, it’s another thing that needs to be corrected before she and Warner Bros. can become the ultimate #relationship goals.

Ugh, we get more of the same damn conversation that they’ve had every goddamn chapter (”I’m not a monster!” “Yes you are!”)

He tightens his hold around my arms and I can’t squirm away from him. He leans in dangerously close to my face and I don’t know why but I can’t breathe. “I’m not afraid of you, my dear,” he says softly. “I’m absolutely enchanted.”

See how hot he is! Don’t you feel powerful, presumed straight teen girl reading this? A hot, dangerous man telling you how enchanted he is by you?

Fuck off.

“You’re absolutely delicious when you’re angry.”

“Too bad my taste is poisonous for your palate.” I’m vibrating in disgust from head to toe.

“That detail makes this game so much more appealing.”

Juliette is disgusted, but the reader is supposed to find this endearing and even appealing (”Look how kinky Warner Bros. is, teehee!”), since we know she falls for him eventually.

Warner Bros. says he’ll remove the cameras if she touches him. Juliette is all wah-wah, I can’t do that!

But like ... why? You know if you hate him so much, touching him could mean killing him, and I know that you’re all sad about what a meanie meanie murderer you are and how that would make him right and you can’t have that, but you know what it could also make him? Dead.

I’m so fucking tired of female YA characters klinging to their cheap and ultimately pointless morals instead of showing some stone-cold pragmatism. But that would make them heartless bitches, wouldn’t it? Women always have to be pure and good!

If there was a man holding me hostage, torturing the one person I cared about, I wouldn’t care how much he wanked on about how evil I am, I’d murder him dead the moment he offered. (If I were in Juliette’s shoes, I mean.)

And in this case, she literally has nothing to lose. Either he dies, or he gets rid of the cameras. But nooooo. Juliette is not a murderer! She won’t let Warner Bros. be right! She hates this man so much that she’ll rather suffer to keep her moral high ground instead of fucking getting rid of him forever or at least hurt him a bit for shits and giggles.

Because women are pure and good, you see! They should suffer to be pure while the men get to do all the questionable stuff, because men can get their hands dirty and get shit done!

Juliette has a spine, I’ll give her that, but it grows in the wrong direction for the wrong reasons, and it makes her weak and stupid.

Warner says that Juliette will have to torture people eventually.

“Inflicting pain, you see, is an incredibly efficient method of getting information out of anyone. And with you?” He glances at my hands. “Well, it’s cheap. Fast. Effective.”

*long, tired sigh*

Torture is the least effective method of getting information out of anyone. LITERALLY LESS EFFECTIVE THAN JUST NOT ASKING AT ALL.

You know why? Because people lie to stop the pain. They will tell you what they think you want them to hear just to make you stop.

Here’s a great source of info on torture if y’all want to read about why it’s ineffective and here’s info about the effective ways of getting information out of someone (hint: pain ain’t it).

I’M HOPING YOU’LL BRING THIS UP, TAHEREH. I’M REALLY HOPING THAT THE NARRATIVE WILL PROVE WARNER BROS. WRONG, FOR YOUR SAKE.

Torture is typical in fictional stories because it’s so shocking and dramatic, and because writing interesting dialogue and persuasion is hard. In real life, things aren’t that simple.

“I”—I swallow—“I am not—I’m not—I’m—”

“A murderer?”

“NO—”

“An instrument of torture?”

“STOP—”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

I’m ready to destroy him.

Except you’re evidently not, so I guess you are lying to yourself.

Warner Bros. does some more manipulative shit that’s actually pretty intriguing and would be kinda frightening except he’s supposed to be her future LOVE INTEREST, so this just all comes off as abusive and gaslight-y as fuck.

He’s of course right about every one of his assumptions about her personality and the state of her mind.

“You think I don’t have a heart? You think I don’t feel? You think that because I can inflict pain, that I should? You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a monster just like everyone else. You don’t understand me at all—”

I want to praise Juliette for actually standing up for herself, but at the same time, I’m just so fucking tired of female characters constantly being treated like shit but always expected to take it, to accept it, to keep their hearts pure of hatred and resentment.

I want more women to be angry, to be resentful, to be vengeful and furious and ready to unleash their wrath on the world. We have so many Juliettes already, in the real world. And yes, it takes strength to be kind despite everything that’s been done to you, but female characters are so rarely allowed to be angry. Women aren’t allowed to be angry.

Now, I’m not saying I want Juliette to go full Rambo and start murdering people for shits and giggles. What I am saying is that I want her to be mad. I fully understand why she hates herself, but I’m tired of the fact that she seems to think that those people, who hated and mistreated her, are somehow innocents and she’s the monster.

I want her reluctance to kill/torture people to just be ... normal. Of course she doesn’t want to kill people, that’s just basic human decency dammit. But here, it’s presented as if she cares about all her potential victims, as if she doesn’t want to hurt those good good people who deserve better than to be tortured by such a disgusting and unworthy creature like herself.

She’s supposed to be this beacon of goodness, look how strong and loving she is towards the masses despite the shit they’ve done to her! She values them above herself!

“I value human life a lot more than you do, Warner.”

See?

That’s what pisses me off.

If I were writing Juliette, she’d be like “No, fuck off, I hate everyone but I won’t kill or torture people because I don’t wanna. It’s shitty and it’ll destroy me and the victim mentally and I just don’t want that, ya know? Deal with it. Bye.”

“There is a soldier living in my room.” I’m breathing hard. “If you want me to be here, you need to get rid of the cameras.”

Warner’s eyes darken for just an instant. “Where is your soldier, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I hope to God I’m not blushing. “You assigned him to me.”

“Yes.” He looks thoughtful. “I like watching you squirm. He makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t he?”

Boyfriend goals!

Anyway, turns out that Warner Bros. assigned Adam to her because Adam volunteered, which I guess isn’t suspicious at all, Adam, you idiot.

Apparently, Adam remembers Juliette from when they were kids! Oh joy, more shit for Juliette to angst over. I don’t even know why this is so important to her. I don’t know why anything that’s important to her is important to her, to be fair.

Juliette concludes that this was all a trap, and Warner reinforces it by saying some shit about how Adam talked about wanting to see what happened to the “freak” she’s become.

Juliette of course believes this man she supposedly hates and who knows how to push her buttons, and gets pissed and asks Warner to take off his shirt.

Because obviously we need to remind people that Warner is a love interest, when he could’ve just taken off a glove or let her bitchslap him to death.

Warner drops his clothes to the floor and looks at me almost intimately. I have to swallow back the revulsion bubbling in my mouth. His perfect face. His perfect body. His eyes as hard and beautiful as frozen gemstones. He repulses me.

Oh yeah. We can totally tell how much he repulses you.

Ain’t that right, reader? Don’t you just hate how hot Warner is?

Very, very manipulative, Tahereh. Very disgusting.

Warner acts all sexy and Juliette is angsting that she’s “contemplating torture”. Except she’s not. He’s literally asking for it. At most she should be angsting about satisfying his kink.

Juliette flips her absolute shit again because she’s a huge, useless fucking wimp and Tahereh doesn’t know how to plot, somebody introduce Tahereh to plot, so she has to stall and move one step forward and two steps back before she lets anything fucking happen.

Adam is there to catch her in his strong arms at the end though, and Warner does remove the cameras and bugs, saying he’s expecting her to uphold the end of her bargain.

I hate this fucking book.

#eff reads: shatter me #book rants

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the-master-cylinder · 5 years ago

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SUMMARY A “skybike”, a one-man, open-cockpit flying machine, attacks Dogen. Dogen shoots it down and finds one of Syn’s crystals on the pilot’s body. Carved into the crystal is a symbol of a dead tree. Dogen finds a murdered prospector, whose young daughter Dhyana saw him killed by Baal, Jared Syn’s half-cyborg son. Baal sprayed the man with a green liquid that caused a nightmare dream-state, in which Syn appeared and executed him with a crystal. Dogen convinces Dhyana to help him find Syn.

Dhyana takes Dogen to Zax, who identifies the crystal as a lifeforce storage device. Dhyana tells them about the ancient Cyclopians who once used such devices and says the only power against it is a magic mask located in their lost city. Zax affirms this and directs Dogen to find a prospector named Rhodes in the nearby mining town of Zhor.

Dogen and Dhyana are blocked by vehicles driven by nomads commanded by Baal, who sprays Dogen with the green liquid, paralyzing him. Dhyana drives them off and cares for Dogen, who in the dream world finds Syn and Baal looming over him. Syn fails to pull Dogen away from Dhyana: their will is too strong. Dogen awakes, but Dhyana is suddenly teleported away. A summoned monster appears in her place and fires electric bolts at him. Dhyana simultaneously faces Syn in his lair. Dogen shorts-out the creature, and it vanishes.

Dogen arrives in Zhor and finds Rhodes, a washed-up soldier, in a bar. Rhodes denies the lost city’s existence and refuses to get involved. Dogen leaves and comes upon a group of miners beating a captured nomad soldier. Dogen assists him, and the miners turn hostile. Dogen is out-gunned until Rhodes helps him defeat the miners.

Rhodes reluctantly agrees to help Dogen. Deep into Cyclopian territory, Dogen locates a large statue with a single eye and finds the crystal mask. Suddenly attacked by snake-like creatures, they escape, until they are accosted by a group of nomad warriors. Their leader, Hurok, grabs the mask from Dogen and accuses them of trespassing – a capital crime. Rhodes cites nomad law that a warrior can fight for his freedom, so Dogen duels Hurok. When Dogen spares his life, Hurok accepts Dogen as a friend and frees him.

Syn takes Dhyana before a massive crystal and forces her to touch it. Syn says the crystal is powered by captured souls, including that of her father. Dhyana, disgusted, says her warrior will come for her. Elsewhere, Dogen and Rhodes assault Baal’s encampment, and a chase ensues. After evading them, Dogen wears the mask and finds himself in the dream world with a burning tree. In his hand he finds an axe and hacks into the tree. The tree moans like the crystal in Syn’s camp and trickles a stream of blood. Dogen removes the mask and returns to Rhodes. Baal suddenly attacks, extending his robotic arm to spray Dogen, but Rhodes pushes him out of the way and is knocked out. Dogen, struggling with Baal, rips the robotic limb from his shoulder. Baal flees, and Dogen tracks the green fluid to Syn’s camp. He sees the nomads gathered around Syn, and Hurok greets him.

Syn denounces Dogen as an enemy, but Dogen says he has only come for Syn. Hurok refuses to kill Dogen and demands that he be allowed to speak. Dogen says Syn is a liar who wants to enslave them. When the crowd turns hostile to Syn, he activates the crystal, which stuns the crowd. Syn fires blasts at Dogen, but he deflects them with the mask. Baal grabs the mask and it shatters on the ground. Hurok kills Baal, and Syn teleports away. Dogen jumps onto a skybike and chases Syn into the desert, but Syn escapes through an energy portal.

Dogen returns to the nomad camp, finding Dhyana safe with Hurok. Dogen promises to fight Syn if he returns and destroys Syn’s soul crystal. Dogen and Dhyana leave the camp on foot but soon encounter Rhodes in Dogen’s truck. He picks them up and takes them into town.

DEVELOPMENT/PRODUCTION Charles Band-known only for a series of low-budget B-movies had finally cracked the big time, pulling off the success of his career, and doing it on a shoestring METALSTORM is the kind of film that everyone involved with wants to talk about, because so many things had gone right. Unlike other recent 3-D productions, the disappointments and problems during production were minimal. And there was the hope-hinted at during filming, rather than openly stated that they had on their hands that Hollywood rarity: a complete unheralded hit.

Critical response and box-office returns failed to meet that early enthusiasm. By Hollywood standards, METALSTORM fizzled when released. But for producer director Charles Band, his labor of love had struck gold. In the beginning. Band was thinking of METALSTORM in terms no loftier than those of his low-budget 3-D predecessor, PARASITE. “We started with the idea of doing something not much larger than that,” explained the quiet, low-key Band. “But then we began to get excited about the story and got some other very creative people involved, and we decided to go for something much larger.” The final budget figure for METALSTORM was less than $3 million, which makes it a mega budget production after the likes of such other Band projects as LASERBLAST and END OF THE WORLD.

As their concept and aspirations for the film grew, so did its budget and crew, necessitating some sacrifices on the part of those working on the production. Explained screenwriter and co-producer Alan J. Adler: “Neither Charlie (Band) nor I have taken a salary on this movie. We are working for love and deferments.”

But working on the edge has its compensations, according to Adler. “Charlie and I bounce ideas constantly to get the best thing on film that we can,” he said. “If the majors financed this thing, a car full of guys in suits could drive up with some crazy idea, and we would have to do it.”

Free to do their own thing, Adler and Band have come up with a simple story of good vs. evil; cowboys-and-Indians in a galaxy far, far away. METALSTORM’s plot revolves around energy crystals, the source of all power in a barren desert land, which are being exploited by an evil magician to gain ultimate power. Screenwriter Alan Adler conceived the film as a western, with a lot of American Indian mythology.” Working with that metaphor, Jeff Byron fills in for Gary Cooper and Randolph Scott, coming to clean up the lawless town; Tim Thomerson is the old drunken lawman who sobers up to help the hero; Kelly Presto is the shopkeeper’s daughter, kidnapped by the guys in the black hats; Richard Moll is the wise old Indian chief, almost-but not quite duped into supporting the railroad baron who wants to take his people’s lands; and Michael Preston is the all-powerful, black-hearted villain.

“I read everything I could find in the library on the Western mythology before I sat down to write this,” Adler explained. “I just woke up at 3:30 in the morning one day, got into the bathtub and wrote nonstop until I finished the treatment.” Although the setting and time of METALSTORM is left ambiguous, Adler based many of his ideas on the Atlantis legend, a theme he hopes to develop more fully in the proposed sequel.

With METALSTORM, Adler also sought to challenge himself by writing a script with as little dialogue as possible. “The movies started out without any dialogue,” he explained. “Besides, 3-D is a dynamic visual medium, and dialogue seems to stop the action. But just because it doesn’t have much dialogue, it does not mean that there are no characters and ideas in the film. Like a western, everything is very terse; everything means something. Bookish, soft-spoken and unfailingly polite, Adler seems an unlikely candidate for author of films with titles like PARASITE. CONCRETE JUNGLE and METALSTORM. A film buff and genre aficionado since he was nine years old, Adler has been an avid collector of film memorabilia for 20 years, including a priceless collection of old film posters.

Adler learned his craft by writing and producing local television shows in his native North Carolina, where he also attended a graduate school in film. But his life was changed when he saw STAR WARS. “I saw that movie, packed my bags and left town for Los Angeles.”

Band and Adler have a cooperative relationship rare in filmmaking, especially for a writer. “I’m on the set every day,” said Adler. “He helps me re-write scenes, and I stand next to him and make suggestions, constantly, from sunrise to sunset. Directors who do not listen do not have the value of a writer who knows the story and how a character should be portrayed. Charlie is the director, but there is a tremendous amount of give and take.”

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PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHY Principal photography of METALSTORM began in February, and stretched for seven weeks. Filming took place in the Simi Valley, as well as the Vasquez Rock formations outside of Los Angeles. Few interiors were utilized, though the company was driven indoors early in the shoot during two weeks of bad weather. To bring Adler’s mythic Western concepts-as well as plenty of action to the screen, Band assembled an ambitious, hardworking crew of relative unknowns and newcomers, who are trying to make major producers sit up and take notice of their talents.

Among them is cinematographer Mac Ahlberg whose deft work in PARASITE, his first 3-D film, was justly praised. “The reason this movie looks good is because we did not follow the rules,” said Ahlberg. “We had a 3-D consultant at the beginning of the movie, but we got rid of him because he was such a pain in the neck.

“There really are no rules to follow,” Ahlberg continued. “Like when you do a painting or write a book, if you keep to the rules, you get boring. But technicians get very upset when you break the rules. Like when color hit the movies. I spoke to someone who was shooting the first color film, and he had to follow so many rules that it was almost impossible for him to do anything on his own. Now with 3-D, you have all these ‘rules’ and everyone is very scared. I think some 3-D films have failed because people have been so tied to rules.”

Some of the standard” 3-Drules call for long cuts, static cameras and avoidance of high-contrast scenes. Band and Ahlberg ignored them all. “I don’t listen to all those 3-D experts, of which there are lots,” Ahlberg said. “We did some high contrast scenes, and they were some of the best in the movie. Also we tried all the time to let the camera move.” A long Steadicam shot moving through the tent city is a good example of Ahlberg’s innovative 3-D cinematography.

“It’s never been done before.” explained special effects coordinator Frank Isaacs. “They were able to hold convergence on Dogen as he walked through a crowd. It’s as if you were walking behind him. You see the exact proper perspective. It’s a long shot, and you just sit back and enjoy the 3-D.

“Ahlberg knows how to dolly in and out of the scene, keep something on convergence and make it look real, as opposed to what everybody else does: anchor the camera down and let the action come at you,” Isaacs continued. “What he has done is to follow the action and let the foreground and background go their proper paths.”

Another 3-D tenet went by the wayside in their filming of a lightning-quick gunfight in the streets of the tent city, with seven or eight brisk close-ups of faces, guns and lasers blasting into bodies. “Everybody said you must have very long takes, don’t cut too much, cuts are difficult to do, and so on,” said Ahlberg with some impatience. “We found that lots of cuts are very exciting, and the camera should move a lot when people walk.”

Though Mac Ahlberg may not have kind words for 3-D consultants, Chris Condon has a few for Ahlberg. Condon designed the StereoVision lenses used by Ahlberg for PARASITE and METALSTORM, and gave Ahlberg his instructions on the use of the equipment. “There are so few errors in METALSTORM, and those that do exist are very tiny, said Condon, who has often been less than kind to films he and his lenses have been associated with. “Ahlberg really understands 3-D.”

The use of 3-D required extreme precision in shooting the live action. The use of multiple cameras for some shots necessitated extra care in the composition of scenes and the calibration of convergence in each camera. If a scene was planned to cut from a medium master shot to a tight close-up, the convergence of each shot had to be as complementary as possible to spare audiences a wrenching shift in focus, and painful headaches. This forced Ahlberg to be extremely aware of how a sequence might be edited while he was shooting it.

“You have to compose the picture so the audience looks at the thing they should look at,” said Ahlberg. “Because if they look at the wrong things, they definitely get eye pain. If you have converged on a face in the foreground and you have a telephone pole in the back, you have two telephone poles. You actually have this in real life, but you never think of it. You make the audience look at the things you want and not at the distracting things, such as the background.

“We tried to have a continuity of convergence and not strain the eyes of the audience,” Ahlberg added. “That’s one of the things I discovered when we made PARASITE, that you have to keep convergence under control. You can’t converge each shot individually; you have to have a kind of convergence sequence. Every shot’s convergence has to be done considering what it is coming from and what’s going to happen next.

Otherwise, a cut really is not a cut.” Ahlberg continued. “It’s a kind of dissolve, because it takes a second or so for the audience’s eyes to adjust to the new convergence.” Ahlberg believes that the best 3D work pays attention to the depth in a scene. “When you compose a flat picture,” he explained in his Scandinavian-accented English, “you do it so you can get some depth in it, using perspective in the foreground and background. If you compose an image like that and shoot it in 3-D, you get good 3-D. If you don’t make a composition which has depth in itself, if you think 3-D is going to supply the automatic depth for you, then many times you fail.”

Another characteristic of Ahlberg’s 3-D work is the avoidance of too many gimmicks. “In METALSTORM. (Ahlberg) has had the good sense not to abuse the 3-D.” said Isaacs. “He just throws in an occasional gag every once in a while, which works very well. It’s fun, but it’s not to be abused, and that’s what every other film has done so far.”

Despite his success with the process, and the near-unanimous acclaim for his work, Ahlberg is no fan of 3-D. “Really, I hope that I never will have to work on a 3-D movie again,” he said. “I find it so boring, so uninteresting.

“When I see actors in 3-D. I always have the feeling that you are looking through a glass window at them, like they are in a show window. In a flat movie, the actors are very present they seem to be right there. Why? Because in 3-D you have the glasses, the double images, all these things that take the actor far away.

“If I have two alternatives, to make a 3-D movie or not, I will always pick not to make one. I have one exception I like to work with Charles Band. I said when I made PARASITE that I would never make another 3-D movie, and still I’m doing them.”

BEHIND THE SCENES/INTERVIEWS

Actor Jeffrey (Dogen) Byron Remembers Metalstorm

You have been in several Empire films. . Jeffrey Byron: Yes. I met Charles Band when I auditioned for METALSTORM. I had never met him before that. I felt confident about getting the role and after I read for him and the casting director, I guess he agreed. I was hired the same day. They apparently stopped seeing actors after meeting me. Once I started work on the film I had a good rapport with Charlie, and soon after (during the filming of METALSTORM) he offered me the role in THE DUNGEONMASTER.

Which Band production was the most memorable for you? Jeffrey Byron: My favorite was METALSTORM. It was tons of fun to make, and when we were filming it, there was a special camaraderie with the cast and crew. We knew it was a low budget exploitation film but we also knew that it had a chance to be memorable. In the end it has turned out to be quite the cult classic. I enjoyed working with everyone. Tim Thomerson my sidekick and I had fun working together. I am sure there are lots of great (and funny) outtakes in the vaults.

We’re trying to imagine the casting process for THE DESTRUCTION OF JARED SYN… Jeffrey Byron: As I said, I was one of the first actors they saw for the part and once they met me they cast me. After they hired me, I read with many actresses for the part that Kelly Preston played including Demi Moore. She was the favorite and would have been hired but she was doing another project and wasn’t available.

METALSTORM was shot in 3D. Did this pose any challenges for you as an actor? Jeffrey Byron: Not really, other than it being a slow process. Lighting a scene for 3D, at least in that era, was time consuming…

Did you have to endure any grueling make-up or perform any of your own stunts? Jeffrey Byron: Makeup was easy. There were a lot of grueling fight scenes which were fun, but tough. And I loved my costume!

What was Band like as a director? Jeffrey Byron: Charlie was fun to work with. His real gift was the promotion part. He knew how to market a film. He was brilliant at that. He didn’t give me any direction, really. He pretty much left it up to me.

Going head-to-head with Richard Moll must have been intimidating..or is he just a big softy? Jeffrey Byron: Richard was a quiet, introspective guy.. .Nice, and easy to work with, but didn’t say a lot.

POST PRODUCTION/VISUAL EFFECTS METALSTORM’s innovative visual effects benefit from the collaborative efforts of 3-D whiz John Rupkalvis, inventor of StereoScope, working with visual effects supervisor Frank Isaacs and assistant Tom Calabrese. One of the most experienced technicians in the field, Rupkalvis served as both 3-D consultant and visual effects supervisor.

While the film’s live-action scenes were shot with Chris Condon’s StereoVision lenses, special effects photography used Rupkalvis’ StereoScope 3-D system, which works with, instead of replacing the prime lens of a regular 35mmcamera. To photograph miniatures in 3-D, it’s necessary to reduce the “interaxial distance” between the lenses from the standard 2.5 inches to as little as a quarter of an inch or smaller to create the illusion of scale. Since the range of interaxial distances on most single camera set-ups is somewhat limited, twin-camera rigs were employed on both SPACEHUNTER and JAWS 3-D.

But StereoScope offers the advantages of variable interaxial with the relative convenience of a single camera, presenting the regular lens of the Mitchell camera with an image already in the proper over-and-under format. Advantages of the single-camera system for effects work include less light loss than a beamsplitter and savings in the cost of film stock and lab work.

The effects requirements for METALSTORM ranged from simple rotoscope animation to complex blue-screen composites combining as many as five elements in a single shot. While 3-D effects were also featured in JAWS 3-D and SPACEHUNTER, the work of Rupkalvis, Isaacs and Calabrese (collectively working under the banner “Fantasy Creations”) was completed independently, and the trio were forced to experiment on their own to solve some of the vexing problems faced by those working with 3-D special effects.

“Hardly a day went by,” Rupkalvis said, “when we didn’t do something and suddenly realize that what we had done had never been accomplished before.

“There may be a model of the skycycles flying through the air, going through a background shot of a canyon, and at the same time it might include a live action shot of a real actor in a vehicle below, shooting rotoscoped lasers,” Rupkalvis added. “What’s really mind-boggling is that it’s all being done in 3-D, and every point, all the way through, matches.”

What makes 3-D effects so difficult, according to Rupkalvis, is the precise positioning required of the different elements within the frame at any one moment. While effects technicians for flat films speak in terms of background plate and foreground model, backgrounds” for 3-D effects are often both dimensionally closer to the screen and further back than the subject of the shot.

To insure that the models were always in the correct location in space, Isaacs and Rupkalvis would take precise measurements of the model at each frame of a particular shot. “We measured things with micro measuring equipment, with divisions as small as 4 millionths of an inch,” said Rupkalvis. “We took the 3-D down a 20-foot track, dividing each frame into increments. In some cases, when a model was on an angle, we had to take different measurements on the nose and tail, because we didn’t want the tail to appear to skim a rock that the nose clears.”

Their care pays off in an atmospheric night shot, where, surrounded by a crowd holding flaming torches, Dogen jumps on a skycycle to give chase to the fleeing Jared-Syn. The scene shifts to a long shot where a one-sixth-scale model of the cycle, matted into the live action, rises up and flies gradually out of the scene, staying in correct size, perspective and depth throughout the shot. The effects team even put the flickering light of the torches on the model, holding cutouts in front of the lights and moving them precisely for each frame of the cut.

METALSTORM’s climactic scenes feature a breathtaking chase on the skycycles through narrow canyons. To put the cycles in their proper places within the scenes, they and the background footage not only had to match in terms of size and perspective, but with convergence as well.

The convergence point determines the position in space of the entire scene; that is, which elements within a shot will appear to be off the screen, at the screen, or seemingly behind the screen. When the right and left-eye images are precisely overlapped, they will appear to be at the screen. The more the two images are “offset,” the more they will appear to be in front of or behind the screen.

A typical shot might involve a model skycycle flying towards a distant mountain. If the background element is improperly converged, it could appear to be much closer to the screen than originally intended. Instead of the skycycle appearing to be miles away from the mountain, it would appear to be flying straight into the side of a cliff.

The problem was compounded by the fact that the model shots were largely done before filming the backgrounds, because of scheduling problems. So, instead of flying the cycles through pre-filmed background scenery, the effects crew had to search through thousands of feet of footage to find cuts that would match the movement of the cycles.

“Since a lot of our shots were from ‘God’s point of view’ above the two models, you could get away with separate movement from the background,” said Isaacs. “It kind of makes it look more interesting. If you are going around a cliff and there is enough space to fit the model in, it doesn’t matter if he’s moving off axis.”

Much of the excitement of the final chase belongs to the dramatic point-of-view shots flying through the canyon. Much of the credit for those, according to the effects crew, belonged to pilot Vance Colvik. “I’ve never seen anyone do the things he did,” said Isaacs. “There’s one shot as the ground is coming up from 100 or 500 feet away. He was spinning and turning so you didn’t know which way was up.”

Al the climax of the chase, JaredSyn uses his evil powers for an escape to another dimension through a tunnel of energy. To create the effect, the effects team builta long, tapering triangular tube of plexiglass and hung it from monofilament wire. They mounted lights on the motion control system and closed off all but a narrow line of illumination.

“In complete darkness, with the camera positioned at the mouth of the tube, we raked the lights down the tube toward the camera,” said Isaacs. “We would shoot one pass, back the film up, shoot another, back it up, shoot another, up to 30 passes on one piece of film. We used multiple colors-reds, greens, blues-by taping colored gels over the slit of light. Sometimes we did more than one color on a single pass. It looks like pulses of light or energy coming at you down the tube. Since it’s made of plastic, everything reflects off the sides, so you get multiple triangles.”

Much of the effects work on METALSTORM involved shots that required rotoscope animation, including lasers, glowing energy crystals, the hyper-space tunnel featured in the climax, and assorted other effects. While rotoscope animation effects appear relatively simple, they’re very time consuming. Ultimately, three different animation crews were brought in at the final stages of postproduction.

An in-house team, Jan Carlberg and Tony Alderson, worked on the glowing energy crystals, the teleportation effect when Dhyana is whisked away to Jared-Syn’s headquarters, and selected laser beams, as well as coordinating the work that had to be farmed out. A second team, headed by SPACEHUNTER veteran Ernie Farino, was contracted to provide additional laser effects and other elements. Finally, a crew at Millenium Studios, the effects facility of New World Pictures, supplied optical enhancement for the sequence involving the “Chimera,” the energy beast that attacks Dogen.

3-D rotoscoping involves making two drawings for each frameone for each eye-drawn precisely to match the two slightly different views of the scene in which the artwork will be matted in. The primary challenge is to fool the audience into thinking that the flat artwork has the same degree of depth as the live action elements in the scene.

“If it’s drawn wrong (with the wrong convergence) in 3-D, even though it looks right on the flat picture, it could go to the wrong place or even come out backwards,” Rupkalvis explained. “The artist has to find the proper displacement in the actual scene where the drawing will be used. The difference between right eye and left eye drawings might not be that much, but you still have to match the scene.

“For each new frame, the drawings have to move a little bit,” Rupkalvis added. It may seem simple, just drawing point to point, but you have to be very careful with the positioning in space. If you have many elements, you don’t want the lasers to hit something in between. Every element that’s added has to relate exactly to every element that’s in the original photography.”

The rush to the theaters also affected the completion of the film’s optical effects. While bluescreen elements had been shot back in March and April, background plates weren’t shot until early June. Frank Isaacs spent three days screening thousands of feet of aerial footage before turning everything over to compositor Greg Van Der Veer, the son of renowned optical expert Frank Van Der Veer.

“Van Der Veer only had four weeks to composite everything,” Isaacs explained. “That included all the blue-screen shots, the lasers, everything. When you realize that it sometimes can take weeks to composite just one or two shots, you can see the kind of job he did for us. He locked himself away in a little room with an optical printer for four straight weeks and saved us!”

MAKE UP AND PHYSICAL SPECIAL EFFECTS Much of what the audience sees in METALSTORM from scars to scarves, from sidearms to Ball’s bionic arm-are the creations of Makeup Effects Labs, a partnership of three relative newcomers, Alan Apone, Frank Carrisosa and Doug White, who have been practicing their craft since their early teens. In fact, two of the partners, White and Apone, have known each other since their days at Culver City Junior High School in the Los Angeles area.

Back in those days, White was fascinated with drawing and building models and mechanical devices, while Apone had ambitions to be an actor. After they met, they haunted the local movie theaters together, sometimes seeing as many as four films in a single day.

They moved on together to Los Angeles City College, where they majored in drama and art. White did make up for the theater arts department, while reading voluminously to learn different techniques on his own. Apone turned from acting and began to concentrate on art direction and set design.

After school (and some excursions into other fields of employment), both White and Apone took positions with makeup artist Tom Burman, building articulated dummies for PROPHECY. In this highly creative setting, they had the opportunity to learn a vast range of techniques and tools of professional special effects makeup. They also met Frank Carrisosa, who would become the third partner in MEL.

In 1979 they decided to weld their varied talents together to start their own studio. Beginning in a modest 1,000-square-foot facility, their first film contract was EVILSPEAK, for which they created special makeup prosthetics and special effects.

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Now housed comfortably in a, large industrial space in the San Fernando Valley, the three mesh their talents on a busy schedule of projects, working with a cadre of freelancers to offer a wide array of effects, costumes, props, models, masks and special make ups. Each of the three plays a different role in the team. “When we are working together,” Apone explained, “Doug : does a lot of the designing, I handle most of the business, and Frank I will head the shop as far as the techniques used and how we will rig things.”

For the versatile trio, METALSTORM was a field day, a chance to strut their stuff and exhibit every facet of their talents. Like many others involved in the film, their work was largely done for love, and a chance to show what they could do.

“We’d like to be a one-stop house for a producer,” said Alan Apone. “We want to give the producer everything he wants for the money he wants to spend. Obviously, you can’t do STAR WARS for $10,000. But we’d like to give producers the best they can get for $10,000.”

Some of MEL’s most unusual work involved the facial makeup appliances for the Cyclopeans, a race which is supposedly mutating and losing their features on one side of their face. “We started with a book on human deformities,” said White, but found that the actual way a human would look without an eye was too lifeless. So, we had to sculpt in more character, taking the liberty of adding wrinkles and other features. You have to overdo it even more for 3-D, which needs more light, and that tends to flatten out features. For Dogen’s tan, we had to make it much darker than usual for the same reason.”

MEL also had to abandon an ambitious plan to make sclera contact lenses which would give the Cyclopeans a double-iris effect. “I was going to melt two lenses together to show that their eyes were growing together,” White said. “I was going to do a chrome eye for the machine side of Baal’s face. All the scleral contacts got junked, however, because the actors can only wear them for a half an hour at a time. The eye gets starved for oxygen if you wear them too long, and we just didn’t have time on the production to work around that.”

The creation of Baal, Jared Syn’s bionic boy, was the most demanding undertaking for the makeup effects team, involving appliances and props which took five hours each day to apply. There were seven appliances for the face and skull alone, including one which looks like a surgically-implanted metal skull with staples all around the head to hold it in place.

“It’s all latex foam painted in silver pigments,” White explained. “Latex foam can be made up to be either very flexible or very dense, although it never really becomes hard. You use the flexible foam for the facial appliances, so the expressions of the actor will come through.”

Played by R. David Smith, an accomplished mime who was born without his left arm, the Baal character also has a pneumatically-operated mechanical arm, which shoots a green hallucinatory liquid just before he uses the death crystals. The arm featured three telescoping tubular sections and claws that folded out to grasp objects. Each section was pushed out by air pressure through small tubes attached to a compressor.

In reality, three arms were built: one that actually extended, one that was rigged to be torn off, and one which shot the glowing green liquid. “We shot it from every angle possible,” said White. “We did dolly shots as it flipped out in motion. We telescoped it toward the camera, and we fired the liquid into the camera.”

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The makeup crew originally tried to use Chemlite, the green glow found in “night sticks,” for the liquid in Baal’s arm, but its rumored toxicity forced an alternative. “They were going to use it in POLTERGEIST for the veins in the corridor monster,” said White, “but the story I heard was that the guy didn’t want the chemical near him, since he couldn’t be sure what his next child would be like.” Instead, White used ordinary fluorescent paint, which proved to be a suitable alternative.

Pneumatics were used again for one ambitious effect that never made it past the editing room: a shot in which Baal “mummifies” Dyana’s father as he steals his life force. Small tubes were attached at different points inside a life-like foam mask of the actor’s face. As the life force was drained, the bladders were deflated one by one by Frank Carrisosa, who operated valves leading to an air compressor. The resulting effect makes the face seem to shrivel and dry up. The effect was designed to avoid the use of expensive postproduction opticals, a must on the film’s tight budget.

While the “mummification” didn’t make the final print, MEL’s glowing “energy beast” did. Dubbed the “Chimera,” the electrically charged beast is sent by Jared-Syn to kill Dogen. While the sequence was enhanced in postproduction by a team from Millenium (Roger Corman’s in-house effects studio). it was designed as a simple in-camera effect. An MEL Cew sculpted a full body suit and cast it in rigid latex foam. The suit was then covered with Scotchlite paints, which act on the same principle as highway road signs and front-projection screens: while they look dull gray in ordinary light, they shine with a brilliant glow when light is aimed directly at it, in line with the camera lens. To complete the effect, the light was pulsated with a rheostat. “The idea was to come up with something you could do optically in camera, instead of doing rotoscope animation, White said.

The Chimera short circuits itself by stepping in a puddle of molten metal, which Dogen has blasted out of a wall of rock. Winston Jones, the actor inside the costume, slowly folded up his body, and the details of the costume were lost in the Scotchlite glow. The actor was then pulled from the scene, and a shot was taken of the background. A piece of animation of the beast shrinking into the earth was then rotoscoped onto it.

In addition to creating creatures and prosthetic makeup. MEL also provided designs for many of the film’s sets, props and the rugged, desert-scoured costumes, which were made by Kathie Clark, from concepts by White and H. R. Girard, an MEL illustrator.

The Cylcopeans’ costumes look like heavy leather carved in the shape of an exoskeleton. In reality, they were made from rigid latex foam that was sculpted, molded and painted. The use of latex had an unexpected benefit according to Doug White. “In the dailies, it even sounds like leather, like someone wearing chaps,” he explained. “When the actors moved or brushed up against each other, it creaked.”

The Nomads are outfitted in heavy, concealing robes, topped by menacing masks with energy crystals in their foreheads. Originally numbering only 15, their numbers grew to more than 10 (dubbed newmads’ on the set) for certain crowd scenes. As some scenes got bigger and bigger, eventually even a few ‘crew-mads’ were required. For one shot, even co-producer and screenwriter Alan Adler was suited-up. In low-budget films, everyone gets into the act.

SOUNDTRACK/SCORE For composer Richard Band (the director’s younger brother, by two years), the frantic rush to complete the film meant there was less than a month available to write more than an hour of original music. “In fact,” said Band, “I got the final reel a day and a half before my recording session!”

But Richard Band wasn’t really complaining-it was his brother, after all, who launched his musical career in 1977 with LASERBLAST. And although Band has worked for a number of other producers in the six years since (see 13:5:14), half of his assignments still come from big brother Charlie.

“Since we’ve worked on several films together, Charles trusts me to do whatever I want to do,” Band told writer Randall Larson. “He puts the music in my hands completely. On METALSTORM, he never even heard the main theme unul the recording session.

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“Working with your family puts different types of pressures on you,” Band added. “I can exert a type of clout. But I can’t play some of the games I do with other directors when I’m working with family, just because it’s family.”

If Band’s deadline was tight, the musical opportunities were vast. METALSTORM was Band’s first “big” score, integrating a vast array of electronics with a 70-piece symphony orchestra (nearly twice the size of any orchestra he had previously worked with).

The result was thematically simple, yet complexly textured. Band worked with Producers Music Organization and programmer Gary Chang for the electronic portions of the score-performed by four keyboard players using more than a dozen different synthesizers, which was recorded live with the orchestra at the Burbank Studios recording stage.

RELEASE/DISTRIBUTION After principal photography ended in late April, editor Brad Arensman began to assemble the footage. One of his first chores, however, was to complete an 18-minute 3-D demo reel for use at the Cannes Film Festival, where the world’s film buyers gather each year. Both Charles Band and actor Jeffrey Byron made the rounds in late May, and both were elated by the reception the film received. Band returned to Los Angeles to screen the demo reel- which included several completed effects composites-for several domestic distributors. Universal, about to launch JAWS 3-D at more than a thousand theaters, took a strong interest. Reportedly, Universal executives were worried about the financial prospects of JAWS 3-D, and looked at METALSTORM as an inexpensive follow-up to run in those theaters that had already altered their projection equipment to run JAWS 3-D. Unlike the case with most pick-ups, where months may pass between an initial screening and a final deal, Universal agreed to distribute the film in a matter of days.

“When you show a product reel like the one we did, distributors always ask to see the rest of the footage,” explained screenwriter and co-producer Alan Adler. “When we showed it to Universal, they said it was a pleasure to see that the rest of the movie was as good as the product reel. Some people there said they liked the additional footage more. It was a real validating experience.”

There was only one catch. In order to release the film three weeks after the opening of JAWS 3-D, Universal needed a completed print no later than July 27. That gave Band and his postproduction crew less than two months to shoot some badly needed pick-up shots, finish the opticals and to cut, loop, score and mix the film.

Even as Band was completing the score and Van Der Veer the opticals, the marketing department of Universal Pictures was gearing up for the film’s August release. In addition to the standard barrage of print, television and radio campaigns, Universal attached a 3-D trailer to every print of JAWS 3-D, the first new trailer to be shown in 3-D in a generation.

CONCLUSION In the weeks before the film’s release, hopes from Band and his crew were running high that METALSTORM would transcend its humble origins and take on the proportions of a major hit. Alan Adler began work on the script for METALSTORM II, with plans for a trilogy. “We’d already started talking about certain monsters and landscapes,” Adler said. “It was to be one of the most all-encompassing pursuits of all time. Not only would Dogen pursue Jared-Syn through time, but through other dimensions as well.”

There was even talk about merchandise tie-ins. “If Band handles the marketing right,” Frank Isaacs said, “every kid is going to have a little Baal doll. I can see the kids at dinner, squeezing his stomach, sticking out a little arm that will shoot out green water.”

But visions of a sequel-or of millions of Baal dolls pushing E.T. off the shelves-were a bit overenthusiastic. Although it grossed more than $2 million in its opening weekend at 550 theaters, the film was pounded by most of the nation’s critics (except for the two Los Angeles dailies, which gave the film mixed reviews), and grosses dropped off quickly.

We made some mistakes,” admitted Band, already at work on a number of upcoming projects, including the revival of David Allen’s long-dormant THE PRIMEVALS. “But it’s only my second film as a director, so it was a great step as far as practicing my craft. It taught me a lot as far as what not to do next time.

Although hardly a blockbuster, METALSTORM will return a profit to its investors-and to the crew members who worked for little or no money to see that the film got made. Such profits should allow Band the luxury of slightly higher budgets the next time around, and perhaps even a more relaxed pace in which to work.

“The scenes in METALSTORM that looked the best were the ones I took the most time with,” Band said. “With $2.5 million, you can only shoot so many weeks, so you can’t give the time and attention that every scene needs. I took five or six moments in the film-the dream sequences, the scene where Baal gets his arm ripped off, and a few others-and spent a lot of time on them; too much time, in fact, in terms of our overall budget.

CAST/CREW Directed Charles Band

Produced Charles Band Albert Band Alan J. Adler

Written Alan J. Adler

Jeffrey Byron: Dogen Michael Preston: Jared-Syn Tim Thomerson: Rhodes Kelly Preston: Dhyana Richard Moll: Hurok R. David Smith: Baal Larry Pennel: Aix Marty Zagon: Zax Mickey Fox: Poker Annie

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Cinefantastique v13n06-v14n01 Delirium#03 Fangoria#30 Fangoria#28

Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn (1983) Retrospective SUMMARY A "skybike", a one-man, open-cockpit flying machine, attacks Dogen. Dogen shoots it down and finds one of Syn's crystals on the pilot's body.

#80sFilms #BAND #EMPIRE

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