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starleska · 1 year

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i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic.

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning.

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it?

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity.

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage.

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise:

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories.

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him!

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous.

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by.

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰

#big jack horner #jack horner #puss in boots: the last wish #puss in boots #shrek #disney #puss in boots: the last wish spoilers #starleskatalks

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saionjeans · 2 months

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the fact that saionji is dismissed even within his own episodes, constantly undermined through comedy and treated as a figure of derision and scorn, is actually fascinating when considering how insightful he can be. but all his moments of insight are framed in a way that undercuts his meaning and making him the subject of mockery (by both the characters and the audience). because, if saionji was taken more seriously by the narrative, that would fundamentally destabilize akio’s framework, so saionji is discarded and trivialized not because he is so obviously and gratuitously flawed (although he clearly is), but for his virtues, his insights, his ability to see through the bullshit even as he nonetheless so desperately enmeshes himself in it.

nanami also threatens akio’s framework and is reduced to comedy, but she’s nonetheless presented as a far more tragic and sympathetic figure. but saionji is actually in a very similar position, hence also being tossed around and denigrated and turned into animals and so on. within the narrative, utena is framed as this noble, beloved hero, not necessarily because she is such a flawless and perfect person, but because she is being groomed by the narrator who preys on her naïveté. saionji is the opposite side of the coin. they are foils, and in many ways quite similar, but saionji is immediately established as a villain, and then quite quickly a loser and a clown. and i’m not saying that he isn’t those things, but that he is framed so uncharitably for a reason. because he is, fundamentally, a cynic, and akio’s world is powered by grand yet hollow ideals.

what can we do with someone who is so antithetical to our own goals that they pose a direct threat? vilification can be its own unique form of empowerment. but mockery obliterates, erodes respect, obscures the truth in one’s words behind a peal of laughter. “no one asked you.”

#u #saionji #akio #nanami #utena #analysis #manalysis #i mean he’s not doing himself any favors #but also. if you were in the position saionji (and nanami) are put in your whole lives #you would also lack poise and elegance! you’d also be coarse and uncouth and reek of desperation!!!

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thecardiganunderthebed · 6 months

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the cruel prince headcannons i have and ik I'm right okay!? part 2/it shall go on forever

Vivi would be the one to have those memory shoe boxes, like with polaroids of them and lil notes they wrote to each other when they were kids. She's secretly very sentimental, she keeps everything that helps her remember any small moment (just like me frfr)

which is why she loves right where you left me by taylor swift. AHA

Jude is evermore and Taryn is folklore.

When you yell at at either Jude or Cardan they both go stone-faced and chew the inside of their cheeks. Both of them weren't allowed to show weakness growing up so they share this trait and it has been titled the "uh-oh expression" because if they make that face uh oh! you're fucked.

When cardan finds out Jude trained herself to be immune to poisons, obviously, his first response is going bat shit insane because "why would you do that!!!" but after that has worn off its "....this means you can brew poisons right?..so theoretically.....you could teach me how to make poisons RIGHT???"

She says no.

He is devastated

When you look at cardan he looks scary as shit but that kinda wears off when the king of Elfame has a habit of draping himself across curtains to express distraught or distaste

Jude is the one who detangles him from the curtains after the said breakdown

HEATHER

WOULD

PUT

FLOWERS

CARDANS

HAIR

and he would let her.

even though he hates his being touched, him and heather have become unlikely friends

Because he loves stories and telling them, and she is "a delightful audience Jude, she gasps at all the right parts and asks all the right questions!"

Cardan also feels like he finally got sisters back with Vivi and Heather

HEATHER AND VIVI DO GET BACK TOGETHER FUCK YOU

as the years pass, cardan doesn't let Jude go the mortal realm often cause then she'll age :((

Cardan and Jude often make elaborate mockeries of the members in the council (what you thought cardan was the only dramatic and sarcastic one???)

VIVI WAS A THEATRE KID SHE STILL REMEMBERS ALL THE MUSICALS SHE DID

Taryn's favorite subject would've been literature

Jude was a math kid i think

If she found cool math games.com she would go insane

"WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS MAGICAL SITE" "Jude we were kids when we left so we couldn't have-" "SHUT UP TARYN

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 8 months

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There should be more Andy Zaltzman in the world. Sorry to bother you it's not really a question but why isn't there more Andy Zaltzman in the world? I've been good and not drinking for a week now and I think I deserve more Andy Zaltzman fuck I don't even like cricket but this shitting world don't give me no choice.

Andy Zaltzman is, in my book, the only comedian that makes sense.

Good night legend of Canada.

There’s this martial arts gym where I used to run wrestling sessions for their fighters, we had a great relationship with the gym and its owners for many years, but I distinctly recall the first time I ever went in there and met everyone, in I think 2009. The guy who worked at the front desk was a great guy, and we were just instantly hit by waves of “God, what a great guy this is” from the first moment we met him. He was clearly really nice in general, but was also just wildly impressed with my best friend and I and our ability to do even pretty basic wrestling things, he asked us to show them to him over and over and marveled at how great we were and couldn’t believe the gym would be blessed with our presence. I have this clear memory of walking out of the gym and back to my friend’s truck, and saying to my friend, “Right, I don’t want to talk to anyone except [guy at the desk’s name] ever again.”

That story came into my head as I read this message, because it was a bit of the same feeling. Okay, everyone else get out of here, I don’t want to talk to anyone except the person who wrote this message ever again. New standard for my inbox: you have to rave mildly coherently about Andy Zaltzman for a bit, and then call me a legend of Canada. Anything else will pale in comparison now. What an utterly excellent message. (I'm joking, everyone feel free to send me anything you like, but you do get extra points for waxing poetic about Andy Zaltzman and calling me a legend.)

God, there should absolutely be more Andy Zaltzman in the world. Unfortunately he cannot be everywhere at once, but since you wrote so eloquently on the subject, here, have a little Andy Zaltzman, as a treat:

Okay, okay, a little more.

The above two are my favourite things to think of whenever I hear Andy Zaltzman talk about the disastrous gigs he's had at comedy clubs and universities. Sometimes I think it's a mystery what happened at the legendary York 2005 Zaltzman and Oliver gig where they were chased off stage, and sometimes I think - okay, Andy, to be fair to that audience, sometimes you're really annoying. In the best way. The best way. Ruthless artistic integrity by doing things like absolutely refusing to give the story a point.

Okay, have a little more.

youtube

Look, I'm not into cricket either, but sometimes he talks about other sports! The depth with which he genuinely cares about the integrity of sports and hates things that make a mockery of it is truly admirable. I'm not being ironic or anything this time, like how there's a vague layer of irony over praising of the pun runs, I just really respect his stance on that and commitment to writing jokes pointing out bullshit that ruins sports. His stance on how the word "wrestling" should refer to the sport first and only make people think of the actors on TV if they specify that they mean "pretend wrestling" would make me love him even if I had no other reason to.

Look, I cannot pass up an excuse to post this again:

The UK TV channels know they couldn't handle Zaltzman's power, but they do let him on TV in Australia once in a while:

youtube

Also, I cannot recommend enough his 2019 year-end stand-up show, which he released for free as a Bugle episode, which is amazing. It's only the first half - he says in the episode that he might release the second half later in the year but then it never happens - but I think the first half is most of the meat of the show, anyway (he explains in the podcast that the first half is much longer than the second half, because somehow stand-up comedy lets you break the rules of math like that, in addition to letting people play fast and loose with the otherwise fairly rigid definition of "hour"). This is probably in my top ten favourite stand-up shows I've ever heard, and it got released as just another episode of a podcast. Fucking incredible.

Early pun run - not as long as some later ones, but the first one to feature footnotes, and Andy Zaltzman's jokes that feature footnotes never fail to get me:

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As far as his pun runs go, I think this one's a bit underrated:

youtube

I like that one because I like the ones where he picks a category with a finite number of items, and then hits every single one. Like American post-war presidents. Or Asian countries. "You and I did a rap, am I right?" as "United Arab Emerites" haunts me in my sleep sometimes. As does "Bhutan with the show" "Fuck you!"

youtube

I hope this has done just a bit to sate your need for more Andy Zaltzman. Well done on being good and not drinking for a week, you solid gold legend (I'm mixing my references here, but close enough).

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yallemagne · 11 months

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New fuckin' Helluva Boss dropped and.

*whistles*

Fuckers gave me so much to pause and read. At least I didn't have to translate runes this time iojpger. But legitimately, the visual storytelling is cool. I did just... sit down after the ep and go on a monologue about how much the texting says about Blitz and Stolas...

Stolas gets a notification on his phone at the very start of the episode [0:22] for a "Deal @ Ozzie's Set" in 3 days. I have mentioned in a previous post (*cough* my only other Helluva post *cough*) that Stolas plans to give Blitz an Asmodean crystal as a substitute for the Grimoire. So, that's probably what the meeting is about, just to get that crystal made so he can give it to Blitz and let the man have his business, no strings attached.

In texts sent directly after the events of Ozzie's [17:24], he tries to reach out and make amends with Blitz for the events of the night:

"You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. But maybe I read too much into that, I'm glad if that's not the case. I wasn't upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren't and obviously you can handle any stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, but I thought it was pretty funny myself. What he said about me at least, I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over."

sooo much insecurity. Though he is very worried, he tries not to come across as too clingy or as if he thinks Blitz can't fend for himself. He calls Fizzarolli's mockery "stupid joke[s] a clown can make". If he even remembers Fizzarolli from his childhood (who knows, he didn't seem to pay much attention to him), he would remember that Fizzarolli was more beloved by the audience. Meanwhile, Stolas was the only one who appreciated Blitz's strange humour. By dismissing Fizzarolli's jokes as stupid, he puts Blitz's humour above his more successful counterpart.

He also tries to say that he wasn't upset by the jokes made at his expense to assure Blitz that he's not ashamed of him. But he was upset, just not for the reason that hurt Blitz. He was upset that Ozzie reduced his first somewhat happy relationship to nothing more than a sex thing that tore his family apart.

At the end, there, he tries to cover up his worry by making a sex joke, because emotional weakness is not the norm in their relationship. An honest try, but all the uncertainty would read as insincerity to an outsider.

Stolas has been very anxious about holding Blitz to his part of the deal they made (exchanging sexual favours for the Grimoire each month), and in the texts he scrolls past, he offers to let Blitz keep the book for longer spans of time, even suggesting that he just pickup/dropoff the book with no sexual exchange needed whatsoever.

All the while, Blitz's responses are always curt and misspelled. Either he just has a writing quirk he commits to or he never learned how to spell properly and taught himself to do so phonetically-- which is likely considering his upbringing. Though he could get the resources to learn now, pride might be a motivation for why he hasn't. Either way, his short responses show his unwillingness to meet Stolas' level of vulnerability. Could also be that he's in the middle of killing people.

Oh, also, his "Git bevver swoon :(" is the only instance of Blitz texting Stolas first. Stolas replies first with genuine appreciation ("Thank you Blitz, that means a lot." one of the only times he has called him "Blitz" and not "Blitzy") and then an invitation for him to visit him in the hospital, masked with innuendo ("I might be here a while, if you ever want to visit. ❤️"). Blitz types a message but deletes it, once more unwilling to match Stolas' vulnerability, but also not wanting to humour the innuendo.

Also, words can't describe how disappointed I was that the episode ended on ANOTHER sombre note and not Blitz crashing in through the window. I was so confident that Blitz had stopped typing because he decided to visit Stolas (and, of course, he would choose the window because he couldn't get past the front desk). Ugh. Every single damn episode has been ending on either a threatening or a sombre note, bring back the last-second punchlines for some diversity!!

There's more I could say but that would be straying from the written messages. And none of my followers care about this ijopeg.

#helluva boss

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caendtowntrash · 1 year

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Is there any hope for Endtown? Aaron seems to be somewhat worried about the floundering state of his Patreon, and the rumors of two major arcana being Endtown focused makes me think he, at least in some level, realizes he has to right the ship somehow. I feel like this arc might be his final indulgence into Marx wankery, killing Eye, and resetting the universe. Maybe that's just me being too hopeful though.

Personally I'm REALLY skeptical.

I've gone over or added to thoughts about how much of a cancer Marx is a few times already so I can keep explaining that facet to a minimum for another difficult angle in the story itself: he's completely annihilated the scope and worse trivialized any reason for investment in the actual characters. Think about it for a second: there's an established multiverse where copies of the main characters exist at any point of their lifespan, from start to finish, and can be accessed by Marx at any point to do anything to them. Someone dies? Replace them! It's that easy! Why does anyone have to be invested anymore if Aaron already established that Cardoodle hybrids are quite literally stupid and shallow people, Topsiders cannot 'cure' the mutation phenomenon or make it stop and thus will spitefully persist as humanity's rage as it dies or become inhuman mockeries that will kill and eat each other at a drop of a hat, and Marx caused this unnatural existence for unknown but frankly no good reason at this point. He just subjected inhabitants of a doomed world to live in a suffering hell and keeps doing it. And why should the audience care about anything when Aaron seemingly doesn't? The whole Benny situation unfolding right now was long overdue and feels more like he finally remembered that was the driving force behind the conflict for half of the Eden storyline he never resolved, and the resolution is Marx constantly mocking and chiding Duffy for having real human emotions and wants in a storyline that doesn't give a fuck. And that's the rub: the undercurrent of how the drama and stakes for the characters we're supposed to be invested in is a joke to Marx for him to fart on and dismiss despite the bones of Endtown being BUILT on the characters as well as their struggles and the drama of their lives in this world. If he were in any way planning on changing course it would have happened already, but the latest update alone is proof that isn't the case. He's still shitting on the characters for their feelings while simultaneously drawing them in emotional agony. With that kind of poisonous mindset how can any return to Endtown be positive when we last left Endtown at its most dramatic and lowest? With his track record I almost anticipate a soft retcon of what likely would develop after Pig Arc, same as what happened after Milk Trial, and that's being generous. Hope is if he finally establishes under no uncertain terms that Marx is a villain and the characters have to escape or conquer him somehow, until we see acknowledgements for that then just enjoy watching the fire burn, I know I am.

#endtown #critanon #Aaron Marx #Eden Arc

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humanperson105 · 11 months

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What is Thinking? Part 2.

Benjamin, Godard, and the Stimulation of Thought

Walter Benjamin saw modern art as existing between the two poles of contemplation and distraction (Zerstreuung in German roughly translates to entertainment or diversion in contemporary usage). Contemplation, in which the viewer is completely absorbed into a work, belongs to the traditional pre-modern role of art, which Benjamin contrasts with the modern mode of mass participation, in which mass entertainment is rather absorbed into its audience. Benjamin sees the prevalence of distraction, concomitant with the process of industrial proletarianization, as a historical development in the human apparatus of perception that Dadaism would singularly understand and make use of until the advent of film. “[T]he Dadaists turned the artwork into a missile. It jolted the viewer, taking on a tactile [taktisch] quality. It thereby fostered the demand for film, since the distracting element in film is also primarily tactile, being based on successive changes of scene and focus which have a percussive effect on the spectator.” (Walter Benjamin The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical reproduction) Just as the Dadaist's mockery of the bourgeois pretensions of the art world prevented their works from being objects of passive contemplation, the montage technique deployed in films “distracts” (Zerstreuung) its audience and produces what Benjamin calls the shock effect:

The image on the film screen changes, whereas the image on the canvas does not. The painting invites the viewer to contemplation; before it, he can give himself up to his train of associations. Before a film image, he cannot do so. No sooner has he seen it than it has already changed. It cannot be fixed on. The train of associations in the person contemplating it is immediately interrupted by new images. This constitutes the shock effect of film, which, like all shock effects, seeks to induce heightened attention. (Ibid.)

Benjamin sees the task of modern art as tied to this shock effect produced by distraction that prevents us from falling into immanent contemplation. The importance of this shock effect and its relation to the question of whether we are thinking and what motivates us to think that we discussed above with Deleuze is, for Fredric Jameson, of central importance in the works of Jean-Luc Godard:

How new forms of montage in film are to be related to a pedagogy that stimulates thinking and prods the spectator out of some merely immanent contemplation of visual images is not merely the classical problem of an Eisenstein or a Brecht but also the more immediate and contemporary space in which Godard's films desperately and far more problematically wrestle with that heritage; that Godard had "ideas" no less theoretical than Brecht or Eisenstein, ideas about consumer society and Maoist politics which it was the task of the film somehow to convey, seems undeniable [italics are mine]. (Jameson pg. 191 PCLLC)

For Jameson, Godard’s use of montage is a tool that forces the audience to think in the Deleuzian way we discussed above, but in this case, thought is made possible by the rejection of immediacy and immanence. Thought is not relegated to the sensible and is rather itself a negativity or ironic distance from the sensible. Godard (as well as Jameson), makes use of a Marxian dialectical method in which immediacy and the false immediacy of the sensible are always revealed to be a single moment of abstract indeterminacy in the broader realization of self-determination. Thought does not rest on any foundation or givenness and is a restless negativity at a transcendent distance from representations and passive subjective experience or perception. (Continued)

#marx #marxism #Deleuze #philosophy

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ilosttrackofthings · 11 months

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So I just finished this book and here's a snippet from the final scene between the hero and heroine

what

the hell

How did the author mess this up so bad? When I started this book I genuinely thought I'd be okay with the inevitable "hero apologizes" scene at the end because he had messed up that badly in the flashbacks. And yet, by the time we get here it's ... this.

Okay, I need to back up because for 99% of this book it was actually good to very good, it's just in those final pages it face planted.

That Scandalous Evening by Christina Dodd is a typical regency romance which follows Jane and Ransom. Ten years earlier, Jane had a celebrity-level crush on Ransom. She knew it wouldn't go anywhere, she knew he didn't even see her, but he was her muse. Her actual muse because she made a sculpture of him, which a bitchy side character publicly displayed to get revenge on Jane for something she had no control over. Everyone laughs, it's a big scene, much mockery happens.

Jane assumes for most of the novel that this mockery is directed at her and that Ransom is experiencing some overflow, which she feels guilt over.

In reality, as the audience becomes aware, Jane sculpted him naked and, being a virgin with no idea what goes on down there, used a very small fig leaf. The mockery is pretty much all directed at him.

Ransom- actually, I can't remember if Ransom realizes she can't have known in the flashbacks or if he realizes later on. Either way, when she comes to talk to him about it and explain herself, he ruins her. They don't actually have sex but they might as well be having sex and they are seen and he doesn't offer to marry her and it ruins her life. She becomes basically a servant in her brother-in-law's home and in the present day, she's on the verge of homelessness.

This, the hero 100% should apologize for and I was all ready for it.

Only he doesn't. Not at any point.

Which is whatever. Jane certainly doesn't seem to blame him any more than she blames herself. She's pissed at him when we start off, but she's certainly not wishing he had married her or anything. She's too independent-minded to really see her circumstances as his fault, even though they are.

Despite the lack of apology, Ransom has, he admits himself, grown up a LOT since the flashbacks. He spends the entire novel trying to uncover a French spy ring in London. He is doing this to fulfill his oath to the men he lost on the battlefield and those who lived but suffer for it, men he feels responsible for leading into war. All of this is pretty noble. He's a good dude.

Jane finds out about his hunt one week into their marriage (this time he ruins her and DOES offer)

At the same time Jane finds out he suspects she's involved in the spy network. And she's furious. That he married her while thinking she might be a spy.

(Fun fact: Jane is closely tied to FOUR people in the spy network. One of whom was unwittingly used to pass messages. Something Jane was almost at one point used to do as well but Ransom showed up and interrupted. So his suspicions are very reasonable.)

Now, I admit I'm not quite clear on what she's mad about. She says that it's his "condescension" so I suspect maybe it's because he planned to save her if she was a spy. They never discuss this plan of his and it only appears in the narration after the fight. She doesn't seem to realize that this means he wanted to be married to her regardless, she's just mad that he thought she might need his help. (To escape EXECUTION.)

She never says it, but she's also mad because he made her stop pursuing her art, so that's kind of feeding into her irrational fury when she finds out about the spy thing.

Only

he didn't.

Make her give up her art, I mean. He changes the subject from art to kids at one point and she decides that means she can only dedicate her life to one or the other (as if this isn't 1800s London and noble ladies don't hand their kids off to nannies at the first opportunity) so she privately decides to give up her art and acts from that moment on like he made her do it.

So going into the big climax, all of this nonsense is going on with her. But that's not all, obviously there has to be danger in the climax! Jane's gotta be kidnapped. She even tells her kidnapper that Ransom won't come for her and she genuinely believes it on account of all this bullshit she's built up in her head. (Why were you leaving a trail for him to follow then, Jane?)

But Ransom does save her. Obviously. He follows the trail, beats up her kidnapper. This guy, who's been firmly established as a good dude, noble in the truest sense, has just saved his wife, saved his country, and what does he get in return?

Jane's gonna leave. She's gonna get on that boat there, the one her kidnapper was forcing her to at gunpoint, and take it to the continent so she can live out her dream of being a starving artist.

I shit you not.

Does she care at all that she was just saved from an inevitable rape? Does she consider that the men on that boat were knowingly allowing her to be kidnapped and probably won't accept sketches of dolphins as payment for her passage? Does she think for one second that she was kidnapped from her home and has only the clothes on her back?

Of course not! She sees her opportunity to pursue her art and she's gonna take it, screw reason and logic.

Oh, and Ransom? He responds by getting on his knees to apologize for ... existing, I guess? Again, they are never really clear on what exactly she's mad about or what he's apologizing for. But this is about when we get this

and it's also when I lost all respect for what was, up to the least ten percent or so, actually a pretty good book.

I no longer want these two together. Ransom CAN do better. All those people telling her to get over him in the flashbacks were right. The bitchy side character was right. And I don't know what Jane's on about with the not being noble thing because she IS. It's mentioned several times that they are both nobles, not just gentry, and she herself points out once that her bloodlines go back further than his so what is she even on about? I'm so mad. If I hadn't left the book in my car I would throw it.

#see jd rant #that's all this is so enjoy if you're into that #i just had to get it out somewhere

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aronarchy · 1 year

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Chief Justice John Roberts’ Mockery of Stalking Victims Points to a Deeper Problem

By Mary Anne Franks April 21, 2023

Stalking is so closely correlated with lethal violence that experts refer to it as “slow motion homicide”: More than half of all female homicide victims in the U.S. were stalked before they were killed. Despite the terrifying and dangerous consequences, many victims of stalking do not report the abuse to law enforcement for fear they will not be taken seriously.

The reasonableness of that fear was vividly illustrated by the Supreme Court oral arguments in Counterman v. Colorado on Wednesday morning, as members of the highest court of the land joked about messages sent by a stalker to his victim, bemoaned the increasing “hypersensitivity” of society, and brushed aside consideration of the actual harm of stalking to focus on the potential harm of stalking laws.

For nearly two years, Billy Raymond Counterman sent thousands of unsolicited and unwanted Facebook direct messages to C.W., a local musician, ultimately driving her to abandon her career and leave the state. Counterman, who had previously served time in federal prison for making violent threats against his ex-wife and her family, argues that his conduct towards C.W. was free speech protected by the First Amendment. Counterman maintains, supported by amicus briefs from influential civil libertarian organizations such as the ACLU, the EFF, and FIRE, that stalking cannot be criminally prohibited except when the government can prove that the stalker subjectively intended to terrify his victim. The state of Colorado, supported by amicus briefs from First Amendment scholars, stalking experts, and domestic violence victim advocates, argues that it is enough to prove that the stalking would be terrifying to a reasonable person in light of the totality of the circumstances. If the court rules in Counterman’s favor, delusional stalking—no matter how objectively terrifying or threatening—will be transformed into an inviolable constitutional right.

During oral argument, Chief Justice John Roberts quoted a handful of the thousands of unsolicited messages Counterman sent to C.W. “Staying in cyber life is going to kill you,” Roberts read aloud. After a pause, he joked, “I can’t promise I haven’t said that,” prompting laughter from other justices and the audience. Picking out another message, which he described as an “image of liquor bottles” captioned as “a guy’s version of edible arrangements,” Roberts challenged Colorado Attorney General Phil Weiser to “say this in a threatening way,” leading to more laughter from the court. And the laughs didn’t stop there: Counterman’s attorney, John Elwood, shared with the court that his mother would routinely tell him to “drop dead” as a child, but “you know, I was never in fear because of that.”

There were more chuckles when Justice Neil Gorsuch returned to Elwood’s anecdote during his questioning of Weiser, but Gorsuch shifted to a more serious tone to express his concern about the reasonable person standard. “We live in a world in which people are sensitive, and maybe increasingly sensitive,” he began. “As a professor, you might have issued a trigger warning from time to time when you had to discuss a bit of history that’s difficult or a case that’s difficult,” Gorsuch continued, a reference to Weiser’s prior experience teaching on a law school faculty. “What do we do in a world in which reasonable people may deem things harmful, hurtful, threatening? And we’re going to hold people liable willy-nilly for that?”

Justice Clarence Thomas echoed the concern, asking whether the reasonable person standard is appropriate given that people are “more hypersensitive about different things now.” Justice Amy Coney Barrett pressed the point as well, offering the following hypothetical: What if a college professor gives a lecture “about just how vicious it was to be in a Jim Crow south and puts up behind them on a screen a picture of a burning cross and reads aloud some threats of lynching that were made at the time” and “Black students sitting in the classroom” interpret the lecture as a physical threat “because they don’t understand it”?

The justices’ message was clear: Stalking is not the problem; sensitivity is. To them, stalking is quite literally a state of mind: If the stalker didn’t mean for his conduct to be frightening, then it isn’t. All the target has to do is understand that; she just needs to lighten up, take a joke, accept the compliment, grasp the lesson. Just because someone has made objectively terrifying statements is no reason to overreact and get law enforcement involved; victims should wait for the stalker to do something really frightening before they jump to conclusions.

One of the many painful ironies of this logic is that many stalking victims have already internalized it. Less than half of stalking victims seek help from law enforcement, in large part because they believe that the matter isn’t serious enough or that they can handle it on their own. Even the victims who do seek help from law enforcement will often not get it—police take no action at all in nearly half of all reported cases, and only make arrests in 7.7 percent of cases. If victims are lucky, their stalker will eventually lose interest and cease contact. If they’re not lucky, they end up dead.

The court’s discussion was so disconnected from the reality of stalking, so contemptuous of the victims targeted by it, and so awkwardly punctuated with culture-war buzzwords with no obvious bearing to the topic at hand, that it was sometimes hard to believe it was taking place within the Supreme Court and not a Fox News talk show. Perhaps nothing else could be expected from a far-right dominated court that has made its hostility to women and racial minorities abundantly clear. But the progressive justices did little to push back against the chief justice’s snickering tone, or to critique these efforts to turn an oral argument about stalking into a referendum on the supposed crisis of “hypersensitivity.”

Of course, had the conservative justices’ professed concern about “increased hypersensitivity” been sincere, there would be no need to reach for strained hypotheticals about college students overreacting to a lecture about the history of racism in the U.S. The actual, concerted, and ongoing efforts by GOP politicians to prohibit such a lecture from ever occurring in the first place is a far more apt example of fragility and intellectual cowardice. For that matter, there are a number of current Supreme Court justices who would provide excellent examples of hypersensitivity: Justice Thomas characterizing questions about credible sexual harassment allegations during his confirmation hearing as a “high-tech lynching”; Justice Brett Kavanaugh declaring that “[m]y family and my name have been totally and permanently destroyed” by questions about credible sexual assault claims during his confirmation hearing; Justice Samuel Alito declaring that “saying or implying that the court is becoming an illegitimate institution or questioning our integrity crosses an important line.”

One might have hoped that the recent rise in threats against the judiciary might have made the justices more empathetic to the harms of stalking. The Supreme Court’s 2024 budget request reflects heightened concern for judicial security, seeking nearly $6 million in new security funding because “[o]n-going threat assessments show evolving risks that require continuous protection.” In his 2022 Year-End Report on the Federal Judiciary, Roberts praised new legislation that protects the privacy of personal information about judges and their families, writing that “we must support judges by ensuring their safety. A judicial system cannot and should not live in fear.” That, apparently, is only an appropriate fate for everyone else.

https://twitter.com/NBedera/status/1649795373295190017

I cannot emphasize enough how often a perpetrator gets away with it because the person overseeing the case says: “Well, if that’s stalking/sexual assault/intimate partner violence, then I would be a perpetrator too.”

Sometimes, these comments reflect a deep misunderstanding about what violence is.

Other times, it’s just a statement of fact. A recognition that the adjudicator has been violent in the past and sees protecting the perpetrator as a form of protecting themselves.

We do not see committing acts of violence as disqualifying for working as a judge, prosecutor, police officer, HR rep, or Title IX administrator.

And, yes, that means that a victim often has to plead another perpetrator to take action to protect them.

#repost of someone else’s content #Slate #twitter repost #Nicole Bedera #stalking #abuse #misogyny #feminism

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iamnmbr3 · 3 years

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I saw the ask about having the person feeling like that the Loki show is objectively bad. I liked the show, here is why.

I love Loki, and I love the MCU, but I don’t go into any of it expecting consistency. Tony and Loki are my favourite.

Tony goes through character development in his own movies, IM3 especially that main canon just kinda ignores. So I didn’t go into work he Loki show expecting them to get him consistent or right. I just went in prepared to enjoy the show for what it is in isolation. I also know that no one looks at the stories they write for the MCU critically, so I try and turn off that for a first time watch.

I really like the show, that doesn’t mean I think they made it consistent or in character for Loki. I get why people don’t like it.

I really like the TVA and all the concepts it introduced. I really liked seeing Tom acting his heart out. And I really like Loki/Sylvie because I find something very compelling about a character who hates themselves, meeting another version of themselves and being able to love them. It is not a ship I’m going to write fic about but I like them within the show.

Basically what I am saying is that I go into MCU media with the expectation they will mess up at least one character or plot point badly every time. I like the media for what it is, and I appreciate whatever it brings to the table that I can then cannibalise into da works.

Yeah that's fair. Everyone has a right to their own opinion. Fandom is better when there are a diversity of opinions and we can all respect each other and engage in open and good faith discussion rather than attacking people for having the "wrong" views or trying to harass them out of fandom.

For me personally I feel like the show fails on 3 fronts.

1) To me it fails as a Loki show. I really enjoy Loki as a character and I wanted a show about him. And I didn't personally see him in the show at all. I saw a completely different character who does not behave, speak, act, respond, react, stand, emote, or make choices like Loki does. He doesn't even LOOK like Loki because they did his hair and makeup wrong. And that's really what I wanted. I didn't want Larry (as I call the show character). I wanted Loki. That was what was advertised and to me he was so ooc that he was unrecognizable. If I just saw a clip out of context and didn't know what it was from I would have assumed I was seeing Tom in a totally different role.

Thor Ragnarok felt like a different take on Loki that definitely retconned some of his personality and history, but still felt like an alternate interpretation of the same character in the sense that I could recognize the character as Loki (albeit a different version of him); some people liked that, other didn't. But here it wasn't that. It just felt like a completely new (and to me far less interesting and compelling) character. And beyond that it felt like the show went out of its way to make a mockery of the character played by Tom and by extension anyone who ever cared about Loki's character. Like it felt like a mean spirited caricatured parody. Loki is also extremely sidelined in what is supposed to be his own show. And it most certainly didn't feel like a show about Loki, which is what I wanted. So for me the show didn't provide what I was looking for.

2) To me it also fails on its own merits. If I view it in isolation without comparing it to previous canon and just view it as its own thing it also fails. The quality of the dialogue felt very poor. None of the humor made me laugh and it all felt very juvenile and forced. The plotting and characterization seemed nonsensical and all over the place. Like Sylvie sets off those charges and the episode ends on a cliffhanger with that but then it's never addressed later.

The reason that Loki and Syvie allegedly falling in love breaks the timeline didn't really make sense. Sylvie is going around murdering timekeepers and yet Mobius somehow immediately like and trusts her and says he prefers her to Loki. Loki and Sylvie are simultaneously presented as the same person and also totally different people. Loki allegedly learns self love but we never see that - we see him call himself degrading things like pathetic. And we see him think that Sylvie is better than him. That doesn't seem like self love. The romance feels extremely rushed and unrealistic and awkward and we aren't given a compelling reason for why they are in love or what they even have in common. Sylvie doesn't really have much of a character. Mobius and Loki don't interact much and Mobius consistently mistreats him but Loki somehow thinks of him as a friend. Mobius is portrayed as a good guy for cheerfully carrying out the TVA's ends but Kang is a villain for creating the TVA. The TVA seems to be all made up of humans even though it's in charge of all reality.

If Loki did bad things, then the TVA did worse things and thus are not moral authorities. If the TVA’s actions are acceptable then so are Loki’s. If Loki was wrong to violently impose his will on a planet (let’s forget about the context with Thanos for a minute) then the TVA is wrong to violently impose its will on all of reality in order to eliminate free will. If Loki was wrong to kill a few people, then the TVA was certainly wrong to kill trillions. And thus neither Mobius nor the TVA are moral authorities when it comes to Loki because they are infinitely worse. If the actions that Mobius and the TVA took are acceptable, then there is no reason to criticize Loki because he did far less than them. Etc etc etc.

The cinematography is also very poor and unprofessional and the costumes look extremely cheap and unprofessional. The whole story feels confused and disjointed. The directing is bad because the actors are all very capable but the performances often feel wooden and forced and fake. And the pacing is terrible. A lot of it drags and then plot twists come out of nowhere with no setup so it just makes them feel jarring rather than earned or entertaining.

3) To me it also fails on a moral front. The show contains a lot of problematic depictions and messages and promotes messages that are offensive or even downright harmful.

Mobius gleefully subjects Loki to physical torture by leaving him to be repeatedly beaten in the genital area. This is a very clearcut and straight forward example of physical torture. And Mobius feels no compassion for Loki or remorse over what he has done to him. If anything he seems to find it amusing. And certainly the audience is supposed to find it amusing (which is gross and harmful messaging on Disney’s part). He also subjects Loki to psychological torture. This is a fact. There are multiple instances in the show where the TVA and Mobius subject Loki to treatment that would meet the legal definition of torture under both US law and international law. Furthermore, Mobius and the TVA are holding Loki against his will and forcing him to labor without compensation or any hope of release because they view him as belonging to a group of people (Variants) that they view as inferior and not really people. That’s a pretty textbook case of slavery. So objectively Mobius is Loki’s jailer, torturer, captor, and enslaver. And yet Mobius is presented as justified in what he does to Loki. The writer and director have even called it therapy. And a result many people have parroted this which is very harmful.

The queer “representation” feels straight out of bigoted propaganda. Loki’s personality traits have been retconned to map onto harmful stereotypes about queer men. He is overly expressive, makes grand gestures, is flamboyant, cowardly, dishonest, weak, bad at fighting, lazy, spineless, meek, unused to exercise etc. Now a person could be all these things and also happen to be queer. However, Loki was never like this before. His character was retconned to be this way only in this series where he is confirmed to be queer.

Furthermore, the entire premise of the series seems to be that it is funny and entertaining and justified when Loki is dehumanized, mocked, humiliated, hurt, tortured, beaten, assaulted, and/or robbed of his dignity. That’s the premise. That’s the whole show.

In addition to pro torture and pro authoritarianism and pro victim blaming messaging the show also has problematic depictions of black characters (see here and here), Asian people (see here) and also has a lot of fludphobia and transphobia issues. And much more.

@nikkoliferous has put together a great compendium here of various posts explaining the various issues with the show if you're curious about why some people disliked it.

#asks #loki tv series #loki series #loki 2021 #loki show #loki tv show #Marvel #MCU

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 8 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren’s brother did not outwardly react when Wen Ruohan announced what happened.

He merely stared, face as impassive as a stone washed clean by the river, his posture and position impeccable from the little glimpses Lan Qiren kept stealing of him – he was trying to keep his head ducked and his gaze firmly on the ground, trying to demonstrate penitence, but he couldn’t quite resist looking. He assumed that his brother’s seeming indifference was a mask for the rage he undoubtedly felt, seeing his little brother screw up what would have otherwise been a perfect discussion conference for the Lan sect.

It seemed like a reasonable conclusion, given that Lao Nie was taking up all the slack of reacting with rage without any such mask whatsoever.

“He’s little more than a child!” Lao Nie shouted.

“Little more, perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly. He was enjoying himself, Lan Qiren thought. “But regardless of how close or how far he is, he is adult enough.”

“He can’t marry or inherit –”

“He shed blood in a night-hunt, and that means he can swear oaths, which is all that’s relevant here. It isn’t as if I married him.”

“He’s sixteen! If someone removed sixteen years out of your life, Hanhan, you wouldn’t even notice the absence!”

“True, but irrelevant,” Wen Ruohan said. “And don’t call me that, Sect Leader Nie.”

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please, you little –”

“You are unharmed?” Lan Qiren’s brother asked Lan Qiren.

Lan Qiren, who’d been spectating the increasingly fraught back and forth between the two sect leaders, turned to look at him, surprised to be addressed.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I only had a headache, and Sect Leader Wen took care of that.”

“You call me da-ge now,” Wen Ruohan reminded him, turning briefly away from his argument to do so. “Your oath, remember.”

“Does he even remember swearing the oaths?” Lao Nie hissed. “You know how these Lan drink – you and your damned need for control! Just because you can’t get it one way, you have to try another, is that it, Hanhan?”

“Sect Leader Nie, if you really find it impossible to be civil -”

“If you are unharmed, then we can return to the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren’s brother said, ignoring them both. His voice was as distant and cold as a winter breeze, piercing and lifeless; it reminded Lan Qiren a little of his father, and he shivered. “We will determine the remainder at that time.”

“See?” Wen Ruohan said goadingly to Lao Nie, whose scowl only deepened. “If even his own sect doesn’t object to it –”

“They didn’t not object, they’re refraining from making a statement; it’s not the same thing. ‘Even ten years isn’t too late for a gentleman to get revenge’ – !”

“I should like to see them try.”

Lan Qiren felt a sudden sense of relief, heralded by a bright and abrupt clarity: of course Wen Ruohan hadn’t sworn brotherhood with him on his behalf! He’d only done it because he’d seen Lan Qiren together with Lao Nie, found that the sight offended his vision, and immediately decided to disrupt it. Never mind that Lao Nie didn’t have any intentions beyond the casual mentorship of any older cultivator to a junior – Wen Ruohan was well known for his paranoia, his irritability, his tendency to seize on crazy ideas. And, of course, there was his jealousy, a trait to which he had himself admitted…

A treasure sword used to prop up a table, indeed. It wasn’t about Lan Qiren's merits or the Lan sect’s supposed failings at all. The only table Wen Ruohan was concerned with was Lao Nie’s!

(And that certainly did explain the whole bizarre ‘Hanhan’ thing better than any other hypothesis Lan Qiren had come up with.)

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure it was better, exactly, to be a pawn in a strange game between sect leaders, but it was at least more familiar. As a younger son of a politically minded Great Sect, he was more like a daughter; being used for some scheme by the adults around him had always been his destiny, barring some tragedy or especially indulgent parents – the former was unlikely, the latter he lacked – and so his fate was set.

Of course, it would have been better not to be in a game involving Wen Ruohan at all, but he supposed that there were worse options.

After all, if Wen Ruohan’s primary interest was in tormenting Lao Nie, he probably wouldn’t demand Lan Qiren’s presence in the Nightless City all that often – probably just enough to show that he could – and Lan Qiren would be allowed to continue with his plans for his future. It might even turn out to be something of a benefit. After all, a musician with limited martial skills, traveling all alone, could always use strong friends that were nearby, and the Wen sect’s reach far exceeded that of the Lan sect…

Anyway, comparatively, Lan Qiren disliked far more the idea of being stuck in the Jin sect with its inexplicable devotion to worldly affairs (and when it came to Jin Guangshan, word was that that usually meant literal affairs…), and he would have undoubtedly gone utterly mad in the Jiang sect, with its emphasis on freedom and lack of any rules to explain anything. And of course, regrettably, the Nie sect wouldn't have done such a thing to begin with, secretive as they were...

No, it wouldn’t be so bad, Lan Qiren tried to convince himself. It wouldn’t be so bad at all.

The illusion lasted exactly as long as it took for the leaders of the five Great Sects to retreat to finalize their discussions on business – with Sect Leader Jiang and Jin stepping up to keep Sect Leaders Wen and Nie from each other’s throats, even as Lan Qiren’s brother ignored them all – and Lan Qiren returned to his proper place among the other Lan sect disciples.

“Did he really put you in the Fire Palace until you agreed?” one of them asked, then was promptly elbowed by at least three of his fellows – it was poor Lan Yueheng that had asked, naturally; he was extraordinarily good at mathematics and extraordinarily bad at just about everything else, including both tact and following the Lan sect rules. Lan Qiren had gotten on quite well with him in the past, each one happy to have an audience to listen to their rambling without caring too much if the other side was really listening, but Lan Yueheng was Lan Ganhui’s mother’s sister’s son, the two of them raised together like brothers, and in recent years the latter had a habit of restricting the former from spending too much time with Lan Qiren, the favorite subject of his mockery.

“No,” Lan Qiren said stiffly, and turned his face away in sudden upset. He had almost managed to forget that his new sworn brother was reputed to enjoy spending his free time torturing people, enough so that he had an entire prison devoted to it.

The older brother guided, the younger brother obeyed – what was Lan Qiren supposed to learn from Wen Ruohan? How to be cruel and pitiless, how to hurt people, how to increase his cultivation by doing all manner of dirty things?

Even if he didn’t learn such things, wouldn’t people assume it of him anyway?

“But I heard –” Lan Yueheng persisted, then hissed when someone stepped on his foot.

“No,” Lan Qiren said, stronger this time. “Do not speak behind the backs of others, Yueheng-xiong.”

“Oh. Right.”

Someone muttered killjoy under their breath, but that wasn’t exactly new; his brother thought he was one, and he was popular, so others often followed his lead - and anyway, perhaps he was. At any rate, they all stood around in awkward silence for a little while before someone decided to recount one of the incidents in the main event competition once again, their voice a little over-loud in the silence, and a perfectly anodyne conversation about Qingheng-jun’s performance started up in earnest to cover over all the things they did not say.

That, too, was not new.

Truly, life would be easier if everyone would just listen to the rules, Lan Qiren thought wistfully. The nice written-down ones, just those, and never mind about all the unspoken ones, the ones that everyone seemed to intuitively understand except for him – he tried his best to learn those, too, and to extrapolate from one situation to another, but unspoken rules seemed as changeable as a puff of cloud. It was simply impossible.

In the end, the sect leaders finished up their business and each of them took their leave from the Nightless City, just the way that always happened. Before he went, Lao Nie put his hand on Lan Qiren’s shoulder and said, “Write to me if you ever need anything at all,” while glaring at Wen Ruohan, who smirked back; Lan Qiren’s brother did not glance at either of them and merely walked off, his hands behind his back and his posture straight and tall as a tree. The other two Great Sect leaders, Jin and Jiang, exchanged glances of their own and headed off their own way without a word, choosing, quite prudently, not to get involved.

Lan Qiren saluted to Lao Nie and, slightly more hesitantly, to Wen Ruohan, then followed after his brother. To his relief, Wen Ruohan didn’t stop him, only watched him go, his eyes glittering malevolently - his gaze a palpable weight. It wasn’t quite like the first few times they’d met, where the pressure almost felt like the other man was exerting power on him; rather, Lan Qiren suspected, the weight he was feeling was only the weight of all the new expectations that had fallen onto his shoulders as a result of his new brotherhood.

The ride home was excruciatingly awkward.

It was not a short journey, and Lan Qiren did not speak to his brother once the entire time by mutual unspoken agreement. He might not have noticed such a thing normally, but his brother’s usually cool aura was positively frigid, driving Lan Qiren to silence even when he might have otherwise spoken on mundane matters such as the weather or travel conditions.

Lan Qiren even suspected that if he had dared to try, his brother might have used the muting spell on him.

Naturally, the other disciples followed his brother’s lead – poor Lan Yueheng looked especially torn up over it, and at one point Lan Qiren found a book on abstruse geometry hidden under his pillow in what was probably a well-meaning gesture of solidarity – and Lan Qiren was stuck in that uncomfortable place where he finally had the peace and solitude he often longed for when stuck in a crowd while also simultaneously feeling awful about it, struck with a sudden desire for the company of his family, however cold it might be.

When at last they returned home in the late afternoon, Lan Qiren knew from experience what to do next: he went straight to the hanshi, where his father was waiting for their report, and knelt in penance outside. If the trip had gone well, he would have helped his brother settle the final matters relating to their trip – putting back anything borrowed from the sect’s stores, registering everyone as having arrived with no one lost on the way, that sort of thing – but since it hadn’t, his duties were limited to…well, this.

It was unpleasant, but then, it was supposed to be.

He waited for over a shichen in unmoving silence. The remainder of the sect tiptoed around him, with the disciples that had remained behind sending him sympathetic looks that suggested that they didn’t know exactly what had happened but were burning with curiosity to find out.

It was already dark by the time his brother arrived.

When he did so, he walked right by Lan Qiren without looking and went inside.

There was no written rule against eavesdropping, although there were several unspoken rules about it that were sometimes but not always applicable, but even when (guiltily) straining his ears to the utmost, Lan Qiren could only hear the vaguest murmur of voices within.

It was only after some time – towards the end of his brother’s report, no doubt – that there was a brief uptick, a surprised exclamation (possibly “what?!”, although Lan Qiren’s father was soft-spoken enough that even an exclamation was too muffled to be properly audible), and Lan Qiren braced himself.

After a little longer, the door to the hanshi opened.

“Qiren,” his father’s voice drifted out. “Enter.”

Lan Qiren got up, a little unsteady from all the kneeling, straightened himself out and walked inside, his hands folded behind his back. He would have knelt again, but his father waved for him to keep standing, frowning thoughtfully at him as his brother drank the tea they had been sharing.

“You swore an oath of brotherhood with Sect Leader Wen?” his father asked, his face frustratingly neutral.

Lan Qiren nodded, then amended: “I do not remember doing so. He offered me a toast, and would not allow me to reject it, and then the next morning, he informed me that we had sworn an oath together and showed me the written version of the oath.”

The paper in question was laid out on the table in front of his father. Lan Qiren’s brother had confiscated it after Wen Ruohan had showed it to him, and Lan Qiren hadn’t figured out a way to ask to see it, though he desperately wanted to know whether they had sworn one of the classical brotherhood oaths or if they’d added their own clauses. It seemed like a thing Wen Ruohan would do, yet the idea had only belatedly occurred to Lan Qiren, which meant he hadn’t properly examined the oath while he’d had the chance.

His father hummed thoughtfully.

“There’s no reason to doubt Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren’s brother opined. “He is meticulous in his schemes. Even if there were, the announcement was public; I would not have our clan be known as oath-breakers.”

“Public and unrefuted,” Lan Qiren’s father said, and Lan Qiren blinked because he almost sounded disapproving – but his father never disapproved of anything his brother did, as far as he knew. “Still, you are not wrong. There are few more decisive than Sect Leader Wen. Once he settled on his course, he would not leave such a gap through which one could retreat, not even for himself…Qiren.”

Lan Qiren straightened.

“You were unharmed?”

He blinked at the unexpected question, the same his brother had posed.

“I only had a headache,” he said hesitantly, vaguely aware from the way his father looked at him and his brother did as well that his answer was not what they were expecting. “From the liquor. Nothing else.”

“Did anything else hurt?” his father pressed. “Your body?”

Lan Qiren thought back. “My upper arms,” he said, remembering. He’d thought it was from the uncomfortable bed. “And my right knee. They were a little bruised, I think, but it went away after Sect Leader Wen shared spiritual energy with me.”

His father frowned and twisted his fingers in a gesture; an array opened beneath Lan Qiren’s feet, and the places he had mentioned, as well as his palms and forehead, began to glow.

The marks on his arms, glowing with the pale echoes of Wen Ruohan’s qi, were in the shape of hands.

(Wen Ruohan had commented on Lan Qiren’s enthusiastic telling of the Lan sect rules while intoxicated, to the point of seeking to hold him down as an unwilling audience. Had Wen Ruohan had to physically restrain him from causing trouble as well?)

“The disgrace was minimal, then,” his brother remarked, and when their father said nothing but dismissed the spell Lan Qiren abruptly realized that they were trying to figure out if he had, in fact, been deflowered, just as Wen Ruohan had teasingly hinted that night. He had not shared with anyone that he had woken up in Wen Ruohan’s bed, too mortified to do so, and now that the suggestion had been seriously raised, he was even more determined never to do so. “Not that that will help the rumors.”

Lan Qiren hadn’t thought – surely people wouldn’t think – wouldn’t assume –

Wen Ruohan had no reputation for liking young boys. He wasn’t even known to cut his sleeve!

(Lan Qiren didn’t know what he himself liked. He’d thought he’d have more time to figure it out.)

“We do not guide our sect according to rumors.”

His brother put down his teacup with a little more force than necessary. “Is it the sale or the price that you object to, Father?” he asked, voice far sharper than it should be when speaking to an elder, least of all their father. “See what I have accomplished for our sect, and without even the official authority of being vested as sect leader! It is just as you taught me! Am I to flinch simply because he shares my blood?”

“It is not what is taken,” their father responded, his voice a little sharper than usual as well, but not by much; he might as well have been commenting disapprovingly on an unfortunate turn in the weather. “But that it is Wen Ruohan who takes. His greed knows no boundaries, his recklessness grows by the year – today Qiren is unharmed and your plans may proceed, but what of tomorrow?”

“Have you thought of any better use to put him to? His role is to serve the sect!”

“As a disciple of the Lan sect,” their father said. His tone was still mild, but his voice was icy enough to make Lan Qiren shiver in a confused sort of fear that he did not quite understand. “Not as a plaything for Wen Ruohan.”

By all rights, Lan Qiren’s brother ought to now kneel and beg forgiveness from his elder, his sect leader, his father, but instead he only shook his head. “An oath of brotherhood goes both ways,” he reminded their father, speaking to him as if they were equals. “Sect Leader Wen announced to the world that he swore an oath with a child – does that not also mean that responsibility for his safety and wellbeing falls equally on his shoulders? Any harm to him stains Sect Leader Wen’s name as much if not more than ours.”

“Are we to let outsiders educate our children, then?”

“One cannot compare a foolish younger son to a brother, voluntarily chosen. He chose it, not us; everyone knows this. Any mistakes Qiren makes will fall heavier on his shoulders.”

Their father frowned deeply enough to carve additional lines into his prematurely aged face. “You plan to use Qiren as a lever, then, and extract concessions for every slight.”

His brother shrugged, almost careless in his arrogance. “If Sect Leader Wen chooses to give me such a handle over him, am I meant to refuse? For all his clever schemes, he is also known to be moody and impulsive, easily lured into rashness…I see an opportunity here, not a trap. You chose to give me responsibility early, to have me help you make our sect stronger, greater; that is what I was born to do. You gave me power and I have done well with it, done exactly what you’ve asked me to do. I’ve made you proud - haven’t I?”

“But what of the risk that Wen Ruohan might ignore public opinion and harm Qiren regardless?” his father pressed, not answering. It wasn’t really necessary, of course; he was always proud of Lan Qiren’s brother, no matter what he did - his eldest son was his treasure, the only thing he cared for; it was as fact as undeniable as the direction in which the sun rose each morning. “The Lan sect does not buy riches with blood.”

“I have thought it over, Father,” his brother said quietly. “It is only a risk that he might be harmed, not a guarantee; it’s not as if I am sending Qiren to the Fire Palace myself. And there is the hope here, not of riches, but of glory for the sect –”

“Glory for the sect?” their father asked, voice rich with meaning Lan Qiren did not understand. “Or for yourself?”

“Are they not one and the same?” Lan Qiren’s brother was unmoved. “In the future, it will be mine, and so there is no difference - whatever you say now, that is what you have always shown me. Besides, Qiren will agree.”

Lan Qiren did not take a step backwards when they turned to look at him, though he dearly wanted to. His hands were still behind his back, gripped tight enough to hurt; he suspected when he looked later on he would find blood beneath his fingernails, dug in deep into his flesh.

“Well?” their father asked of him, though his gaze settled somewhere above Lan Qiren’s head as it always seemed to, as different as night and day from the tender and forgiving looks he gave his eldest son even in the midst of their argument. His voice was so cold that Lan Qiren could feel it against his skin like the bitter winter wind. “What do you say?”

Is it the sale or the price that you object to?

It’s not what is taken, but that it is Wen Ruohan who takes.

Have you thought of any better use to put him to?

His role is to serve the sect.

“I do not see what choice there is,” he said dully, his eyes focused on his father’s face just as his father’s refused to focus on his, foolishly still looking for the affection he knew he would likely never find. In his father’s mind, he had only one son – even his objections on Lan Qiren’s behalf, however mild, were nothing more than what he would have said on behalf of any Lan sect disciple. Even Lan Qiren, foolish and bad at people as he was, could see that his father’s primary concern over the approach his brother had suggested was its potential impact on the reputation of his brother and his sect. “I swore an oath. Even if I do not remember it, as a matter of personal honor, I will not allow myself to be foresworn.”

“There,” his brother said, his voice rich in satisfaction. “You see? The choice is made. It is only what we do with it now that matters.”

Lan Qiren bit his lower lip to keep himself from doing something stupid, like asking do either of you care about me at all.

“Very well,” their father said indifferently. “Then it will be as you say. Qiren.”

“Father.”

“You will spend the night kneeling in the ancestral hall to consider the consequences of violating the prohibition against alcohol and the injunction to maintain your discipline. In view of the circumstances, no other punishment will be imposed.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Dismissed.”

As Lan Qiren left, he heard his father ask his brother to tell him about the riding competition.

He did not ask about music.

#mdzs #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #sect leader lan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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synchronousemma · 2 years

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17th February: Frank Churchill longs to dance again

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Read: Vol. 2, ch. 11 (29); pp. 160–162 (“It may be possible to do without dancing” through to “quite amiable enough”).

Context

Emma and Mr. Woodhouse spend the evening at Randalls. Emma and Frank scheme after another opportunity for dancing.

We know that this occurs a “few days” (vol. 2, ch. 12; p. 167) before “two days” (ibid.) before “Tuesday” the 22nd (vol. 2, ch. 13; p. 172); thus it must be the 17th unless “a few” can be allowed to mean “two.”

This chapter was misnumbered XIII in the 1815 edition.

Note that the last paragraph of the first section (“The Advantage of Being in Vogue”) contains spoilers.

Readings and Interpretations

The Advantage of Being in Vogue

This section opens with the following memorable passage:

It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been known of young people passing many, many months successively, without being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue either to body or mind;—but when a beginning is made—when the felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt—it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more. (p. 160)

For Graham Hough this is the “authorial” voice, separate from the narrator, which exists for no purpose other than to “establish a footing of agreeable complicity between author and reader” (p. 204). Rachel Oberman, however, argues that this passage originates with the narrator, a separate, “objective” personality who narrates characters’ “subjective” thoughts. She writes:

In many instances, it is difficult to distinguish the heroine’s voice from the narrator’s because their voices share a similar style and vocabulary, and this connection helps the narrator to fuse her voice to Emma’s less noticeably. In Emma the narrative voice is charming and high-spirited, much like the eponymous heroine’s voice. The narrative voice in [this] passage is as pleasant and worldly as Emma’s own voice. (p. 4)

Robert Polhemus writes that Austen’s irony “depends on its audience to detect and complete meanings extending beyond the literal sense of the language. […] Irony is her mind’s bridge between what is and what may be or ought to be, and at times it spans and supports alternative interpretations of reality, none of which she is ready to discard” (p. 66). He says of this passage:

At first this appears to be just a piece of rather obvious irony directed against the tendency of young people and others to make much of little. Of course it is “possible to do without dancing.” But on second thought there is a deeper irony. Humanity may be able to do without dances, but we can’t be very sure, since the race seems seldom to have tried. […] And that precise, yet generalizing, elegant, typically Austenian phrase “the felicities of rapid motion” extends the irony further. All dances are essentially mating dances, and the end, as well as the means, of dancing is the felicity of rapid motion. Through such prose and such manifold strands of irony Austen brings home the importances of the “little things” she writes about and of the whole tenor of women’s belittled lives. A conventional ironist might find balls trivial, much ado about nothing, but the ironist of genius may discover that dancing is even more significant than anxious dancers can imagine and that just as a dance may be much more important to a particular woman than a Napoleonic war, so might the fact of dancing be just as significant to the human race as the face of battle (p. 67)

Oberman’s argument that it can be “difficult to distinguish the heroine’s voice from the narrator’s” holds true when, a little further down the page, someone suggests that the “wicked aids of vanity” (p. 160) are increasing Emma’s wish to dance: is this narrator’s dour moral condemnation, or Emma’s knowing, playful self-mockery? As for Frank, of course his desire to dance again (and more specifically to re-collect the party that had been at the Coles’ two days before) can be explained by his thwarted attempt to dance with Jane Fairfax on that occasion.

Quite Amiable—Enough

Mr. Woodhouse, after the others have considered a scheme to dance across a passage between two rooms, laments that Frank Churchill “has been opening the doors very often this evening, and keeping them open very inconsiderately” (p. 161). Jonathan Grossman, who argues that “maintaining proper etiquette” is the “leisure class’s everyday work” in Emma (p. 146), writes of Mr. Woodhouse’s speech and Mrs. Weston’s reaction to it (from “it would be the extreme of imprudence” to “Every door was now closed”, p. 161):

At first glance Mr. Woodhouse’s reaction to Frank may seem little more than the ramblings of a petty hypochondriac. Yet when Mr. Woodhouse converts his fear of dancing in drafts into a condemnation of Frank’s “thoughtless” and “inconsiderate” behavior, his [class-based] authority is quietly asserted. […] Mr. Woodhouse’s lowered voice is heard by others besides Mrs. Weston, as is shown by the generalized and serious reaction to it that follows.

Registering Frank’s disrespect, Mr. Woodhouse acts not as a guiding autocrat but as a seismograph for tremors. He reacts. […] [P]reoccupied with matters that seem to be irrelevant, Mr. Woodhouse can all the more effectively test and register obedience to the strictures of politeness. (p. 147)

Grossman argues that this failure of etiquette is what makes Frank unmarriageable to Emma: “Her father’s disqualification of Frank Churchill is not lost on Emma, though she remains silent. In fact, her silence may suggest that she is thinking rather than hastening as usual to rescue her father from agitation and to smooth over discord” (p. 147). Later, Emma’s thoughts on the dance floor, “rendered in free indirect style, contain the novel’s first specific indication that she has decided that she is not interested in marrying Frank” (p. 148) (“Had she intended ever to marry him, it might have been worth while to pause and consider…”, p. 162).1

For J. F. Burrows, “Emma’s multi-faceted relationship with Frank Churchill […] can be epitomized at last in the rise and fall of her belief that he is “amiable” (p. 93). This is a word that Emma uses “more carefully” than do others in Highbury at this point of the novel, after having learned from her mistake in misapplying it to Elton (or when, for example, Miss Bates calls Miss Campbell “extremely elegant and amiable” (E vol. 2, ch. 1 [19]; p. 103), and Emma “comments drily on the proviso, ‘Yes, that of course’” (Burrows, p. 94).

Burrows argues, in particular, that Emma uses the term in a way that emphasizes its etymological association with love (and this is why Knightley responds as he does to her calling Frank “amiable”; E vol. 1, ch. 18; pp. 96–7). At first, Emma decides that Frank is “amiable” on the basis of his letter (ibid.); later, Emma’s “intimacy” with him ends after he teases Jane, against her protests, at the Coles’ party (and she “never confides in him again”; Burrows p. 93). Now she calls him “amiable” for the last time, but “in an ironically diminished sense” (p. 95): “Had she intended ever to marry him, it might have been worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough” (E p. 162).

Footnotes

Earlier, though, Emma had been “guessing how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air” towards Frank (vol. 2, ch. 8; p. 137). How Emma’s prediction that she may never marry at all interacts with her specific decision that she would not marry Frank Churchill is not always clear.

Discussion Questions

What is the narrative or thematic purpose of the paragraph about dancing that opens this section? At what level does its irony function?

What does Frank Churchill’s determination to dance say about him as a character, or his place in the narrative?

Why do the others give up the scheme of dancing across the two adjoining rooms as soon as Mr. Woodhouse objects?

Bibliography

Austen, Jane. Emma (Norton Critical Edition). 3rd ed. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, [1815] 2000.

Burrows, J. F. Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’. Sydney: Sydney University Press (1968).

Hough, Graham. “Narrative and Dialogue in Jane Austen.” Critical Quarterly 12.3 (1970), pp. 201–29. DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-8705.1970.tb02333.x.

Oberman, Rachel Provenzano. “Fused Voices: Narrated Monologue in Jane Austen’s Emma.” Nineteenth-Century Literature 64.1 (June 2009), pp. 1–15. DOI: 10.1525/ncl.2009.64.1.1.

Polhemus, Robert M. “Jane Austen’s Comedy.” In The Jane Austen Companion, ed. J. David Grey et al. New York: Macmillan (1986), pp. 60–71.

#Emma #Jane Austen #Emma Woodhouse #Frank Churchill #Mr. Weston #Mrs. Weston #e

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wincestation · 3 years

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Wincest in the Pilot (aka my final paper)

2k of academic rambling. I got plenty of help and inspiration from this post and this blog review. Also huge thanks to @s2e11playthings for helping me find the latter. It is me! Essay-anon came out of the shadows!

The first interaction between the two brothers as adults occurs when Dean sneaks into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night. Sam fights the intruder before the latter pins him to the floor, making him realize it's his brother. The first words Dean tells him after not seeing him for two years are, "Easy, tiger." Dean's hand grabs Sam's neck and he smiles broadly at his little brother. As stated in the subsequent dialogue, the reason Dean appears this way is because he knows Sam would not have answered the phone if he had called. Why? the only reason Dean would call (which is also the reason he showed up) is that something happened to their father. Sam knows this, and maybe he didn't care if something really did happen to John. But what if John was the one who called? Maybe then Sam would answer, because he knows that this phone call has a different meaning: something happened to Dean.

Sam and Dean step outside to talk. Sam initially refuses to come with his brother, saying he is done with hunting, with the life that Dean and their father lead. Dean mocks Sam's aspiration for a normal life, perhaps as part of an attempt to persuade Sam to come with him, and return to the life they always shared together. After an argument between the two, involving emotional manipulations on both sides ("It wasn't easy, but it wasn't so bad", Dean dismisses Sam's words; "Do you think Mom would've wanted this for us?" Sam touches on a sensitive point), Dean understands that his brother is not about to give up, and finally reveals the real reason for his arrival:

Dean: I can't do this alone.

Sam: Yes, you can.

Dean: Well, I don't want to.

Dean completely contradicts everything he had said up to this point. In this sentence he expresses an emotional need for Sam, not a practical need. He could have sought out their father alone but chose not to; Maybe he saw the danger to his father's life as a good enough reason for Sam to come back to their lives again. Sam can not remain indifferent to this emotional vulnerability, and agrees to come with him - not because he cares what happens to their father, but because he too, like Dean, needs his brother and does not want to say goodbye to him again.

Sam agrees on one condition: he has an interview on Monday and he must get back on time. Dean agrees. Sam could have offered Dean to sleep on the couch and drive in the morning, or even go after the interview. But he does none of these things, and travels with him at that moment, in the middle of the night, without providing explanations to his girlfriend and without even kissing her goodbye. "At least tell me where you're going?" She calls after him as he leaves, with no answer. This urgency can be interpreted as a concern for the safety of Winchester Sr. but given the relationship between him and Sam, this is probably not the case. Why then is Sam in such a hurry to abandon the life he, allegedly, wants so much? In light of the dialogue between the two brothers the answer seems simple. He missed his brother, and now that he knows this feeling is mutual, he feels he has a good enough reason to leave the "normal" life behind - even if only for one weekend. This confirmation is the real reason he's arguing with his brother. The dialogue between them, according to this interpretation, is full of subtext:

Dean: I will not go until you come with me, or kick me out of your life forever.

Sam: If you want me to come, you need to tell me what I need to hear.

Dean: Don't make me say it out loud.

The two set out to find their father. After research, Sam and Dean discover that the monster of the week is a "woman in white" - a ghost that kills unfaithful men. Later in the episode, the ghost tries to attack Sam, who tells her she can't hurt him, because "I'm not unfaithful, I never was." She replies, "You will be." The hegemonic interpretation, presumably meant by the creators of the series, is that Sam is about to cheat on Jessica with the murderous ghost (with or without his consent). But Sam being targeted can be interpreted in another way. Is he going to betray his girlfriend by wanting to return to the life he shared with Dean and their father? Or even, can it be said that he did not betray her, but his brother, by leaving the family and trying to live a "normal" life with a woman?

The scene on the bridge, in which another confrontation takes place between Sam and Dean, can also be interpreted in two ways. Sam says, half in mockery and half in pity, "Mom is dead, and nothing will bring her back." Dean, in a fit of rage, grabs his brother and slams him at one of the bridge poles. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." This is of course one meaning of things. Another meaning could be, "Dean, I moved on, and nothing will bring me back." To this Dean responds in the only way he knows, "don't you dare not give up on me like that." Throughout the episode, and in this scene in particular, Dean repeatedly mocks Sam's choice to leave college - "Do you really think you're going to become a lawyer? Marry your girl?" - And this ridicule can stem from jealousy over the seemingly perfect and normal life that Sam managed to achieve, but at its core is another jealousy: Sam chose this life over a life with him.

The series hit screens in 2005. About two months after the premiere of the first episode, a blog review titled "Supermatural is Supergay" was published. The author described the series as follows:

It’s like the Hardy Boys, only gayer. I love the awkward sexual tension between the brothers. […] So Dean is the super control freak “top”. He has to be driving at all times. […] Sam rides in the passenger seat. He’s the soft spoken bottom boy, always staring out the window in this deep, dreamy state of mind. No idea what the hell he’s thinking about, but I suspect he is wondering where this relationship is going, and if Dean will ever say “I love you”.

Wait a minute… don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about incest here. See, that's the backstory. They are not really brothers. They are secret lovers, hiding their dirty affair. So they pretend to be brothers so nobody questions why they are together 24/7, why they share a bed. […] Throughout the episodes, they give each other hot glances. It’s never part of the dialogue, they just look like they will rip each other’s clothes off at any given moment. […]

UPDATE: On last Tuesday's episode, "Bugs", they were mistaken for a gay couple and then pretended to be a gay couple in the next scene. See, I told you they are gay guys pretending to be brothers. You heard it here first.

Although the writer was wrong in his assumption - Sam and Dean are indeed brothers - he makes a claim that will receive many reinforcements from the fans. There is a certain tension between the two characters, a codependence bordering on desperation that often later in the show will cause them to take extreme steps to keep each other safe. The brothers' love borders on obsession, which caused many fans to agree with the blogger's opinion - just a week after the first episode was aired, the first online community dedicated to the romantic relationship between the two brothers already opened (sn_slash, or Supernatural Slash, "for all your brotherly needs"). It is difficult to say whether the homoerotic clues came from the creators and were picked up by the audience, or whether the audience interpreted the show as he wished and the creators decided to satisfy their desires, but throughout the series there is recognition of the two's special relationship: In "Bugs" [1x08], everyone is convinced they are a couple and they continue the pretense; In later seasons, the brothers discover that books are being written about their lives, and that many fans of these books are convinced they are a couple (in "The Real Ghostbusters" [5x09] in the Supernatural convention, there is a panel called "The Homoerotic Undertones in Supernatural"); And many of the characters in the series, even those who know about the two being brothers, describe their relationship as one of codependence, blind and absolute love, for which they often sacrifice the entire world ("Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other", [5x19] "The point of no return").

Did the creators not understand that this is the message they are transmitting? It is hard to believe that they were unanimous on the subject, especially in light of all the reflexive references they themselves have planted in the show. If so, what could be their reason for engaging in a relationship that is fundamentally unnatural, perverse and forbidden, socially and often legally? This can be explained with the help of another issue - that of the exclusion of LGBTQ+ relationships from the public sphere and the lack of legitimacy for their visibility. Supernatural hit the screens in 2005, a time that may not seem so long ago, but its gay visibility is still lacking, and in which there was still no legitimacy to present a proud couple in popular culture. Maybe, as the blogger suggested in his review, the creators genuinely wanted to create a series that would center around love between two men, but felt that the world was not ready to see that content explicitly. After all, it was only a few decades ago that homosexuality was also perceived as unnatural, perverse and forbidden. Maybe acknowledging that, the creators chose to turn Sam and Dean into brothers, as if to reassure the conservatives: of course they are not just two men who are together at any given moment, staring at each other longingly and willing to sacrifice the whole world just so they won't be left without each other. That could be interpreted as homosexuality - and beyond the harsh criticism, such TV series simply wouldn't survive (or at least, that is how the creators may have felt at the time). And if some of the fans understood the true meaning in which the creators wanted engage, well, that was not in their hands.

To sum up, it is difficult to argue that this relationship is characterized as purely platonic. Even if the creators did not intend to create such an impression already in the first episode, they were aware of this impression and included explicit references to this unusual relationship. Although only an analysis of the first episode was conducted here, throughout the entire series there are unequivocal statements that support this assumption (some of which I mentioned above, but most of which have been omitted). And perhaps there is no need for many words beyond those uttered by the brothers themselves, for the first time in the pilot, and for the last time in the finale ("Carry on" [15x20]), before they said goodbye to each other for the last time: "I can't do this alone. I don't want to."

#wincest #meta #sam x dean #pilot #i wish all my school papers could be about wincest #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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fluffleforce-mysdrym · 3 years

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Impact - Polemarch Adrestes - October Writing Prompt

“How was court?”

Adrestes squares his shoulders at the question, turning to find Chyrus is not far behind him, watching him with a look that says he is confident in what Adrestes’ answer will be. As though he thinks Adrestes will admit that perhaps the Ember Court is not the worst thing he has been through.

“Unpleasant,” Adrestes replies, his tone detached, as usual. He has no interest in dwelling on the subject. He spent those miserable hours holding tea cups that were too small for his large hands and standing in the bitter, harsh Light. It had felt more like a punishment to him than anything else, and he has spent the duration of his time there watching the other party goers, looking for signs of threats. A small part of him had almost wished there had been one, if only to distract him from the banality of court gossip and how easily the teacups got stuck on his fingers.

“Oh?” Chyrus arches his brow as though he is surprised.

Mouth a thin line, Adrestes holds his head high, indignant. “I do not like wasting my time.”

“How is representing your realm to others a waste?”

Adrestes’ feathers fluff for a fraction of a second, annoyed by the question. “There are others better suited.”

They have already had this conversation, and Adrestes hopes to the Archon that Chyrus will not make him relive it in its entirety.

“You truly have no interest in expanding your horizons?”

At least this time, it’s not a command.

Adrestes is tempted to fly away here and now, but he knows better. That would be disrespectful.

And Chyrus’ wings are bigger, so he will keep up far too easily. Adrestes doesn’t need to make a scene of being chased down by a paragon, either.

“I know so little of venthyr culture,” Adrestes begins, taking care to pick his words, hoping he can explain himself in such a way that the subject will be dropped sooner than later, “that I feel I can easily cause more harm to any…relations between realms than good.”

Chyrus’ face shifts as he considers it, crossing his arms, eyes rolling up toward the sky in thought. “You did not think to read up on etiquette before you went?”

“Both Xandria and Visephone required my assistance,” Adrestes says, matter of fact. After all, it is his job to assist the paragons and serve as the voice of the Archon.

Appraising him with care, Chyrus nods slowly.

Adrestes turns to go, hoping to take the lull in the conversation to his advantage, though the paragon of humility will not allow him so clear an exit. “I will send you the scrolls I have on the subject. So that you may be better prepared next time.”

This time, when Adrestes’ feathers ruffle, it is far more noticeable. There is amusement in Chyrus’ eyes that he doesn’t bother to hide. Adrestes fights back the panic that swells inside him at the thought of having to leave his duties to play at politics again. “I do not think there will be—”

“There will,” Chyrus cuts him off. His earlier good humor seems spent. “This Ember Court has been picking up momentum since its establishment. It is not something that will fall apart so easily, nor will you be excluded in its future.”

Adrestes doesn’t bother to hide his scowl. “There are better people—”

“And the dark prince asked for you,” Chyrus interrupts him again. “In his master’s absence, he is the leader of his realm. Tell me, would you deny the Archon an audience?” Even as Adrestes goes rigid, Chyrus adds, “Would you brook someone else denying the Archon an audience? Simply because they feel they know better with whom she should meet?”

“The prince is not a god—”

“No, he is a noble creature trying to save his realm that has been abused and abandoned by its god.” Chyrus’ does not give Adrestes time to respond. “Imagine, horrible as it is, if the Archon left us.” The mere thought is feels so abhorrent beyond anything Adrestes has ever considered in his eons in Bastion. “Worse, imagine that the Archon has turned our purpose into some twisted mockery of what it was, and that those of us who hold true to our purpose are openly hunted and slain for standing up to her.”

Adrestes swallows, fighting the urge to tell Chyrus that what he says feels like treason. That the impact of those words are like a punch to the gut. That if he goes to the Archon now, she will be wounded and outraged anyone would even consider such a notion. To even consider doubting their Archon, after all she has done for them. All they are, all they enjoy, all they do is for and by her grace.

The incense that rises in him so naturally gives way ever so slightly as what Chyrus is actually saying sinks in. He is not supposing about the Archon to offend her in all her virtue, but to put Adrestes in his place, to make him consider why his desires to avoid any future court appearances are selfish at best.

Still, he wants to insist that horrible as it is, what is happening in Revendreth, he is not the one to seek out. Not for parties and posturing. Adrestes is a soldier, a polemarch.

His thoughts must be plain in his posture and the frown that drags down the corners of his lips, because Chyrus reads his protests with ease, without a single syllable being uttered.

“Imagine that you are trying to set things right, to save your realm and your purpose. That you reach out to other realms for aide, fearful that they will look down on you because how can they believe that you are truly any different than your wayward god? Imagine how desperate you would be to find help, and imagine how painful it would be to have it turned away.” Chyrus motions to Adrestes. “And when you find out why you are being denied, the injury is even worse than you feared. Rather than doubt in your allegiances to the Shadowlands, the people who do not help you, who dismiss your attempts to reach out and establish allies, are doing so merely because they feel you picked the wrong person to ask for help.”

“It’s not like that.”

Chyrus tilts his head. “Isn’t it?”

Adrestes opens his mouth to argue, but he cannot. He knows he is not the person to call on for these frivolous events, and yet, when Chyrus puts it as he has, points out the intent and meaning behind these frivolities, Adrestes sees why it is so important that the person requested is the one who comes.

It is a sign of respect, a promise that Revendreth is worth saving and that Bastion has noticed their anguish and is willing to help, to acknowledge the dark prince and his rebellion as the rightful leaders of the realm, and not those who seek to abandon their realm’s true purpose.

Adrestes can only imagine—and poorly at that—the anguish those hosting the Ember Court must feel, and he is all the more grateful for the Archon, knowing that she is as steadfast in her role, in her care for her people, as she has ever been. The venthyr deserve compassion, not dismissal.

While he does not want to admit that he could use this lesson, Adrestes bows his head to Chyrus. “I thank you for the scrolls. I will read them as soon as I am able.”

He tries not to frown at the smile Chyrus gives him before taking flight.

Even after the countless eons he has existed, it seems he still has much to learn. Perhaps he can convince himself to enjoy what he does.

#world of warcraft #polemarch adrestes #chyrus #lunethdawnseeker #you asked for Chyrus moming Adrestes so here it is <3

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 3 years

Text

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

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