#I say it’s tang telling the story cause it ends/starts with him and he’s constantly writing down in his diary the tales | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachcitt · 3 years

Note

I've seen a lot of people saying that rot was BAD, what is your opinion?

OH IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

like most people (im sure) after finishing rise of the titans, after wiping up my tears i went to the rot tag to see maybe some gifs or something. you know, make myself cry a little more. instead, i found a bunch of people saying how much they hated the ending, how it was as terrible as some of the worst big finale bombs (endgame, game of thrones, etc) and uh. im not saying the ending is perfect, but it is DEFINITELY not as disastrous as what people are making it out to be, in my opinion. i thoroughly enjoyed the movie, actually, and i thought it was an effective way to end the tales of arcadia.

warning: rise of the titans spoilers, as well as general tales of arcadia spoilers

were there some things i didn't like? yeah!

the major things i didn't like align with a lot of what i see other people saying:

the weird mpreg plotline with steve. it just felt so strange and out of place, and it was used as a tactic to remove eli and steve from the major action, which i don't like.

and the 'ninth configuration' thing that, once again, excluded eli and steve. i didn't see a reason why they shouldn't have been there, seeing as they have contributed to trollhunting since nearly the start of all of the tales of arcadia. multiples of three are clean and smooth, i get it, but at the expense of two characters that were so lovingly developed in trollhunters and 3below?? yikes

with that being said, though, i don't agree with what a lot of people are saying about the time travel at the end. obviously, they bring up some good points - by changing the timeline so drastically, there's no way for jim to ensure that they'll be able to succeed or if the arcane order will even act in the same way. it's a big 'if' and it is worth thinking about

but people have been saying that the ending is out of jim's character and negates his arc, and i have to say. that's not true.

if you've been following my blog since july 1st, you'll know that ive spent the past twenty one days rewatching the entire tales of arcadia series at a steady pace, and within that time, i've paid a whole lot of attention to jim's arc as a character and how the finale of trollhunters left me feeling as if something just wasn't clicking right. his arc wasn't finished.

because all throughout trollhunters, jim is constantly having to prove his worth - and most of the time, the way he's proving his worth is by sacrificing himself. he takes all the blame when anything goes wrong, and on some level, jim never truly learns the lesson from season one of trollhunters that he's enough as a hero because he has his friends to back him up. like, yeah, he relies on them a bit more after that, but in the end, he still stands in the bathroom alone, separated from all his allies, and shoulders the burden of turning into a troll alone. and he leaves arcadia, the city he was fighting so hard to protect, and he leaves his best friend, the one that has been with him since the beginning.

then we get wizards, where jim lets himself be corrupted to save his friends. and then, because of that sacrifice, he ends up hurting all of them. i believe this fact - that he willingly corrupted himself, separated himself from his allies, and ended up hurting the people he loved - shook jim's foundation as a hero, which is why he can't believe he's the trollhunter without the amulet. the amulet was the physical manifestation of what it meant to be a hero to him, but it was destroyed when he was corrupted - it was destroyed when he hurt his friends.

that's how we see him in rise of the titans; he's still struggling with his identity as a hero because he doesn't have the amulet or the unshakable foundation he previously had of his heroism. literally everyone is looking for him to be the leader and make the huge, world-saving-or-destroying decisions, but he can't shoulder that huge burden knowing he could hurt everyone. and then, just to add fuel to the fire, it's his plan that causes people to die or be permanently separated from the group. and he can't even get the sword out of the stone! why? because he himself doesn't see himself as worthy - how can you think of yourself as worthy when you just got two of your allies killed and two more gone, presumably for forever?

but this is the moment it finally clicks for jim. he looks around at his allies, and he sees them reflected in the amulet. he's not alone, he doesn't have to be worthy just by himself, he has an entire group of people who have fought by his side time and time again that, even despite all the mistakes and missteps he's made, are still by his side.

and what makes the amulet work, in the final fight, is his firm determination to see this fight through, no matter if he has the armor or not. he's terrified, he's probably going to die - but it's that bravery despite the fear that makes him a hero, a trollhunter, amulet or not. and he knows that now - he's had to face it before, in the unbecoming episode, but it's different now. in the unbecoming episode, he was truly alone when he decided to face the fight. and he's alone here in rise of the titans - but not for long! because almost immediately after jim comes to terms with his place as a hero again, toby comes along, and he doesn't finish this fight alone!! he finishes this fight with another trollhunter, who doesn't have an amulet!!

jim deciding to rewind time to back before the events of trollhunters is a bold choice, but it tracks with a theme in wizards - merlin told douxie that what set him apart as a master wizard was his belief that every life was valuable and worthy of being saved. this theme is repeated in the new amulet in rise of the guardians; it's for the glory of all, not just for one person.

and jim deciding to have toby become the trollhunter finally marks the completion of jim's arc. instead of shouldering the burden alone, which is inevitably what would've happened if jim had rewound time, kept all of his memories, and accepted the amulet again, jim is choosing to accept allies into his life sooner. instead of being the trollhunter, jim is letting himself be a trollhunter, alongside all the other trollhunters.

of course, there's some things in this alternate timeline i don't like; mainly that no one stepped in to stop steve from bullying eli. that, to me, was the most out of character, and i can only assume jim didn't step in because he's leaving room for that fight to be toby's; competing against steve was a large jumpstart to jim feeling like he could be strong enough to bear the mantle, and maybe jim was just trying leave it up to toby to establish that on his own. still, i didn't like it.

and, of course, there are people lamenting the fact that none of the heroes of arcadia know each other or that they might not have the same relationships, but i immediately thought of the time loop episode in 3below. in that episode, the trollhunters team and the gang from 3below meet and become friends and ultimately lose the memory of that friendship from that day. however, in that episode, blinky says that true friendship would last against the test of time; if they were meant to be together, then they would be. and guess what? even though none of them remember that happening, they all still became friends. it was meant to be.

i think a lot of anxieties about the changed timeline are because people loved the events of trollhunters so much that they a) don't want to see anything changed and/or b) are trying to project the events of trollhunters onto the new timeline and are upset when they don't fit. toby won't be the same kind of hero that jim is, though - he never has been. inevitably, the story will be different, and that's scary. that was the risk jim took, though, and jim has always trusted in toby, so why shouldn't we?

to me, tales of arcadia has never been about clean endings that make you feel entirely good. they've always left me with a tang of bitter along with the sweet, and i think that's the point. tales of arcadia has always battled with hard questions and difficult endings, and i don't see rise of the titans being any different from that.

like i said before, i don't think rise of the titans is perfect. but you can hate it as much as you want; i still really think it did a good job with the story it was trying to tell. i mean, ending with the idea that all lives are important and worth saving, no matter the risk? that heroism inherently means being part of a collective that you trust and believe in? that through time and space, you will always be able to find and connect with the people you love? that's powerful.

im climbing off my soapbox now, but basically tl;dr: rise of the titans was a good finale, despite it's imperfections, and i think that's all i can ask for.

also if you don't like toby as the trollhunter just because you don't like him breaking out of the 'funny sidekick' archetype you can die by my blade

#anon #ask #rise of the titans #rot #rot spoilers #jim lake jr #rott #rott spoilers #what im trying to say is media does not have to be perfect in order for you to enjoy it #and not only did i enjoy rot i also just. thought it was good? it didn't invalidate any of the rest of toa to me at all #the story we witnessed was still valuable; that was why we were shown this version #i won't get philosophical but like. i am.#all that being said it should've been jim telling the story in the beginning #WBKEBKEWKW I JUST REALIZED THERE WAS NO DOUXIE WITH HIS SICK ASS GUITAR. so that too

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wishfullyeternal · 3 years

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Remus Lupin- Changes in Blood

Words- 1274

Warnings- Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Violence, Self Harm, Neglect

*If you are suffering from anything of the above please exercise caution when reading this*

Holding Harry, trying desperately not to let him go, watching his best friend die, right in front of him.

Remus shouldn't be surprised, he's seen many people die right in front of him. It's the same every time, the single second of bliss before they turn into a shell of themselves, their souls already departed for the afterlife. He found comfort in their deaths, pondering their afterlife and how they would spend it. Randomly he would find himself imagining Sirius as his infamous dog form, running through the forbidden forest without a single care in the world.

He remembered so much, many call it a blessing but most of the time it was a curse to him. He remembered the pain of turning before Snape's potions, he remembers the crying and fights of his parents, deciding what to do with him for that month. One time he was locked in his room, another locked in the basement. One time he was even locked in a dog cage. That was the worst one, so many cuts were strewn upon his body and most of them left tangible scars that he would rub his fingers against, an agonizing memory following suit.

"Get in the cage Remus, it will help keep you safe" Remus couldn't understand, he was only seven. He hated himself and hated the pain that came with turning, the ways his bones would snap and form into lanky and horrible grotesque features. Fur began to cover his body, concealing his new scars for once, yet bringing a whole new host of problems. He was becoming feral, wanting the taste of blood in his mouth, and stopping at nothing to incite violence. He was a monster in his eyes, and everyone elses'. He wasn't someone plagued by a disease, he wasn't human, he was only a monster, and only a monster he would stay. The cage wasn't abnormally small and housed him quite comfortably if he were to curl up, much like a large dog, perhaps a Doberman, or a German Shepard. However, once he changed, it was a completely different story. His parents left him downstairs in the basement, leaving him in a corner to scream and cry.

"Mommy! Daddy! It hurts so bad! Please, please come back..." He kept saying things to try and comfort himself, knowing that nothing would come of it. Yet when he screamed for the last time before he turned, he couldn't help but feel anger and resentment towards his parents. In his adult life, he knew what they did was wrong, but he was just a kid. He was only five feet tall and hadn't even grown hair on his face.

His bones were beginning to stretch and twirl into places that they were never supposed to go. Fur beginning to cover his body, sprouting like grass on a rainy spring day. He was sweating from the energy taken to become this monster, and gasped at the teeth that began to grow, overtaking his canines and making them double the length, digging into the flesh of his gums and causing him to wince in pain. Claws began to form at his fingertips, and his eyes were pinned, his pupils the size of the head of a needle. They were a stark yellow, much different from the warm light brown they were before. He couldn't think straight and was pummeled with thoughts of blood and clawing at flesh. Wanting to feel the stringy muscles between his claws and seeing blood cover his hands. Wanting to feel the veins beneath his fingers, and struggling to contain the bloodlust that consumed him. He wanted to feel the warmness, the tackiness, and stickiness of the blood. He yearned for the metallic tang the air had when blood was shed, and couldn't help but put a sharp claw to his arm, lightly scratching it and watching tiny droplets form at the cut. He put his finger to the cut and wiped the blood onto his fingertips, watching as the blood traveled through the tiny grooves that made his fingerprint. He smeared it across his other finger and yearned for more.

"Fuck," He whispered, a new word that he accidentally had learned from his parents, pulling at his new fur. A headache began to ring through his head, constantly banging with the beat of his heart. The way the pain would radiate slowly, starting with the beginning of the beat, peaking, and then slowly decaying at the start of the next beat. Never-ending and never more painful than turning, yet it still managed to bring him to scratch at his face, desperately wanting to distract himself from the pain, even if it meant giving himself more pain. He had accidentally scratched too hard, and blood began to ooze from the wound, flowing through the wrinkles in his skin, and ending up down his neck and staining his already stretched shirt.

My birthday is March 10th

I am seven

I like books and candy

I like chocolate frogs and love my Mommy and my Daddy

He said this to himself over and over again, rocking back and forth, and wiping the blood off his face.

He's now thirty-six, and still has the scar from that night. Barely visible, faded through the years, and covered by a couple of other deeper scars in the same area, both from different changes. Every night, he holds a stillness in his heart that will never move. He watched the moon rise and fall in the sky, illuminating the soft glow of starkly off-grey concrete that covered the outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. His breath is uneasy, and he can almost taste the tension he created in himself, because he knows he's going to turn soon, the full moon almost upon him in a few day's time. Yet he didn't take the potion, and he didn't restrain himself. Remus Lupin simply stayed, sat down onto the creased leather couch, running his hand through his hair, and lightly tracing the scars across his body, a nervous habit he picked up.

Remus Lupin misses Sirius Black.

Remus Lupin doesn't take the potion because he knows that his mind would be filled with memories of Sirius, of Padfoot.

Remus remembers how distinct Sirius's footprints were as a dog. Toes slightly turned out, claws lightly dragging onto the ground, and the print of his paw, Remus memorized the look of his pawprint.

Remus doesn't take the potion because thinking of blood and violence is so much better than thinking of Padfoot.

Watching the scene replay again and again in his head, the rolling back of his beloved friend's eyes as he passes into the veil.

Remus didn't get to say goodbye, he was holding James back.

No, not James, Harry...

Remus regularly made that mistake, especially when he was Harry's professor.

Yet here he was, crying silently at the idea that he could never tell Padfoot that he loved him, that he was in love with him. Making sure to inflict pain upon himself because god that is so much better than thinking about him.

Remus couldn't even look at dogs anymore, and one time, far after the death of Sirius, Harry and Remus were speaking. In the background, a dog barked and for the slightest second Remus perked up, pondering the idea that his old friend may not be dead. His eyebrows raised and eyes wide, looking widely for the source of the sound.

He would end up looking at the ground for the rest of the conversation. Until he found somewhere he could be alone and ponder the thought of his friend.

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alkhale · 5 years

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Ugh😭 I just need a little taste of the next nascent update

(srry it’s been awhile, with finals finished i had some stuff going on at home and i work on the other stories in tandem with whatever chapter flows faster for me atm and there’s so much with memos i want to catch up on)

Raven levitated the steaming cup down into Pandora’s waiting hands.

She stared at the sleek cup, smoothed out and painted with fine black. Pandora gingerly moved her fingers around it as Raven took her seat, several spaces away from her, at ease. Silent.

“That’s a really useful power,” Pandora said. “If I had something like that, I’d use it to do a bunch of things at once.”

“I’m constantly at battle with the forces behind it that try and overshadow me any moment,” Raven said.

Pandora took a sip of the herbal mixture, wondering if it was possible to drown yourself with a teacup. No, she wasn’t that dumb–the closest she could get was choking on it and hoping for the best from there.

“It has,” Raven said, taking a soft sip, “Its moments.”

She could hear the distant rumble of the city. There was a bit of a salty sort of tang in the air from the bay lapping around the secluded tower’s foothold. The breeze was chilly, nipping at her cheeks and at her legs. Pandora’s bun was starting to ache a bit from how tightly she’d pulled it together at the top of her head.

“Can I just,” Pandora stopped. She set the cup in her lap and then turned imploring eyes Raven’s way. “Can I just talk for a second?”

Raven took a long sip.

“You’re a mess,” Raven said flatly. “I’ve been blocking you out since you came out of his room. Your emotions aren’t exactly well contained.”

Pandora’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. She folded in on herself, hunching her shoulders and bowing her head. “S…Sorry, um, about that–”

“He’s the same,” Raven said without a hint of emotion. “It comes and goes. Like a whiplash. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Oh,” Pandora couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity. “Does it… Does it have a sort of look to it? Our auras and–”

“Even if I tell you not to talk,” Raven said, answering her earlier question and ignoring the present one, “You’ll talk. If it stops you from giving off any more emotions than you already do so I don’t have to increase my meditation while you’re here, then fine.”

Pandora bit her bottom lip.

Raven merely continued to drink from her tea cup.

“I just really wanted this weekend to be fun,” Pandora rushed out with a groan. The cup sloshed in her lap and she pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes. “The point of me coming was supposed to be fun. I–not that you guys aren’t fun with him–it really does seem like he’s just… just been having a great time here with all of you and he’s doing all this great stuff but–anyway, it’s just… It was supposed to be a little breather. For me, at least. I wanted it to be nice for him. I didn’t want to cause any trouble, I just wanted to spend time with my best friend and do all this great stuff but–”

Pandora groaned, louder. “But stuff just happens even when you can’t–things are always just out of our control–out of my control. I know his mom’s just doing this to mess with him, you know? She’s probably one of the most intelligent human beings on the planet and I mean, she’s Dam’s mom. With him it’s already this–”

Pandora made a vague gesture with her hands, “It’s like this never ending chess game with him or something! Sometimes I feel like everything is a-a-a move or we’re always thinking around each other while thinking about each other and I’m worried that’s weird? Or it’s wrong? Isn’t that sneaky of me? Of him? Of us? I don’t even know! But he isn’t supposed to be thinking about her–I don’t have any rights to say anything but Dam’s beyond her now. He really is! He’s grown up and he’s kind–he’s so, so kind, and he’s always doing things so fully.”

Pandora made the motion of wrenching her heart out of her chest. “He doesn’t do things often but when he does he does it. Dam’s… He’s…”

“If you’re going to keep talking about him,” Raven said, “and not get anywhere, I’m going to go.”

“Sorry,” Pandora said. “He’s a great guy, you know?” Raven rolled her eyes. “You kinda remind me of a friend of mine back home– And, well, there’s something more to everything that’s been bothering him and I’m worried but then there are things I’m worried about to–”

“You’re talking in circles,” Raven said. “Make points. Address them.”

Pandora’s mouth opened, her jaw went slack, working for a second as she fumbled over her words.

“No,” Raven said, looking at Pandora in slow, absent realization. “You’re always like this, aren’t you? You just talk and work things out from there.”

“That’s what I’m always doing in my head,” Pandora admitted. “I think there’s a word for it.”

“Overthinking,” Raven said. “A mess.”

“Oh, well, yeah, that sounds right too….”

Pandora roughly rubbed at her hair, almost knocking her bun out of place.

“Perhaps,” Raven said. “You need to meditate.”

“Where do I start?” Pandora said miserably.

“What’s making you so miserable in the first place?” Raven said. “Why are you out here–with me?”

Pandora pressed her fingers to her lips before whispering, “My best friend is stressed out and I think looking at me just makes him more stressed out.”

Raven considered the energy thrumming several floors beneath them. “How do you know that?”

Pandora gestured limply to the doors that lead back inside behind them. “He’s been using his katana and his martial art skills non-stop in the training room.”

Raven raised a brow. “He’s always training here.”

“I know,” Pandora said, miserable. “But I asked Bart to pull up the feed. He’s cutting off their limbs or breaking their legs first.”

Raven stared, waiting.

“He only does that when he’s thinking really hard,” Pandora said, lips wobbling. “Otherwise he’d just cut their heads off.”

She filed that away for future reference. “I see. That’s… thoughtful.” Torturous.

“I think he does it because he’s imagining opening up whatever’s bothering him that easily,” Pandora said, shoving her face into her hands.

Raven took a small sip.

“Doesn’t that seem morbid to you?” That’s coming from me.

“A little but it’s Dam,” Pandora said into her hands.

She sighed. Raven waited, holding her cup in her hands and watching the slow ripples on the surface. Pandora turned her eyes forward, staring out at the beautiful city skyline flickering out across the bay.

“I feel so behind,” Pandora said quietly. “I know I’m naive and I try not to be naive, but I can’t help but end up falling back into it.”

“Naivety and optimism walk a fine line,” Raven said. “But they’re not always the same thing.”

“You’re not an idiot for wanting things to go well,” Pandora repeated.

“Wise words,” Raven said.

“A family friend I might be seeing soon,” Pandora credited. “He’s a larger than life kind of guy but… Mama says we’re alike sometimes. If I ever ended up becoming a heart-breaking flirt here and there.”

Pandora stared at the flickering lights.

Raven stilled for a moment. It was a flicker not unlike the lights across the bay from them. A moment. A thought. An emotion that wasn’t her own that bled out from the girl sitting beside her. And then it was gone.

“I wish I could play it all out,” Pandora said quietly. “Get my hands on the keys… It always… It always helps me think when I can’t seem to think about anything else.”

Raven tipped her head to the side. In all honesty, she’d rather be holed up back in her room right this moment opening up the new spell book she’d finally secured through several different means. But if it meant clearing up the ridiculous amount of energy flooding the tower, then she’d sacrifice the night.

“Perhaps,” Raven said. “We can work something around that.”

Pandora turned to her quickly, overturning the tea cup in her lap. Raven managed to stop it midair but the herbal mixture splashed out, spilling over Pandora’s legs.

“What do you have in mind–”

“Didn’t that hurt?” Raven said, staring at Pandora. “The tea was still warm.”

“Oh, no, it’s just a little warm,” Pandora said quickly. “Hardly any heat–I’ve had really hot tea thrown on me before, now, that stuff hurts–”

Raven regarded her in silence.

“I–you know, people–piano now?”

this other part:

“You don’t,” Raven said, dully, seriously, perhaps even with a touch of disgust, “Need to be jealous.”

Pandora looked ashamed for a moment over the top of the piano. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it–I mean, I promise it’s not like that or anything–or anything towards you! You’re honestly gorgeous and wonderful and really, really cool and I wish I could be a bit more like you–”

“Stop,” Raven said. “Now.”

“Sorry, that was weird. Didn’t mean to creep you out. I’ve been jealous a bit before? On different occasions for different people. I’m really jealous of my friend and how he can come up with original songs on the piano and I’m jealous of this one guy for how he’s always doing what he wants and how hard it is to figure him out sometimes–oh, and I really get jealous of how Dam never gets fat. It’s insane. It’s actually insane. I think it’s the genetics and–”

Raven opened the door with a soft glow of her power, a silent threat.

“I’m shutting up now. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sor–” Pandora pressed her fist into her mouth, as though she were about to eat it.

“I’ve never been in such a conundrum with anyone before,” Pandora said, seeming a bit bewildered.

“You’ve never met anyone like me before,” Raven said flatly.

- I’ve always liked raven ever since the old teen titans and i think she can help this idiot

#Nascent #updates #Raven #pandora jayes #Damian Wayne

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thefoolsloop · 7 years

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But for your husband, he is noble, wise, judicious: SNM Shanghai, show no. 2

**(Spoilers for Nurse and male new character loops; but, again, not for any 1:1s. The Nurse’s loop can have a lot of interaction in it, so I have tried to be vague about this, except where necessary to convey the intensity of the loop. As before, I’ve changed the order of scenes in each loop, and tried to be suggestive of the content, rather than descriptive. However, the new story can’t really be discussed without giving away some of the basic content, so once again I apologise if I spoil anything. If you think you’re going to Shanghai soon, I would wait on reading this write-up until you’ve seen the show at least once. Otherwise, continue and enjoy.

PS I’m trying to keep these write-ups to below 2,000 words. It’s not going well.)**

I knew the pain was coming.

When I went to New York to see SNM in 2015, the pain began on day 2 and intensified to a crippling level on day 3. I figured the pattern would be much the same in Shanghai, and so it proved. No one knows what causes my migraines, but fatigue appears to be a significant factor. Jetlag, stress, and a self-guided walking tour through the French Concession, all put a pressure on my body that forced it to the point of rebellion. STOP. REST. NOW.

But not quite now. The pain is brewing, but I think I can make it through a show. I’ve not yet seen Miranda’s Nurse and, although the Nurse in New York was a loop I could take or leave (its development from loop to loop is fascinating, but there’s an awful lot of downtime in between), I just know Miranda will do something special with it. (As it turns out, I am not to be disappointed.)

But first, the ballroom, just to see who’s there. Some potentially interesting performers to follow but Sam is not present tonight, and there’s no one whom I can’t safely save until later. So I climb four flights of stairs, and find myself in the hospital ward.

There she is, a mere scattering of white masks in attendance. She and the Matron (Tang Tingting, known among the cast as “Tangtang”, so that’s how I’ll refer to her) are busy. They are folding bedsheets, and this goes on for a while: stretching, folding. I’m conflicted: on the one hand, this is not scintillating viewing, though it’s arguably marginally more engaging than the top of the Nurse’s loop in New York. On the other hand, I’m with Miranda, and I would watch Miranda read out a telephone directory. In fact, I would watch Miranda read a telephone directory to herself. Why? Because she would find a way to make it gripping.

(Let my praise of Miranda not obscure my admiration for Tangtang. Her performance as the Matron is a masterclass in subtlety. Of all the Chinese cast, she is one of the highlights.)

So these sheets are being folded and it’s mildly diverting, until I realise that they’re being folded into a shape. A very familiar shape. A shape which represents one of the themes which runs through the Shanghai show, and whose significance is so far lost on me. The sanction on spoilers prevents me saying more, but this is a subject I’m keen to pursue with fans and cast as much as I can, because it’s absent from New York and its presence here in China seems utterly incongruous.

But now it’s time to move, because the room is suddenly filling with characters, and the new scene I caught a glimpse of yesterday is gearing up. It’s a scene I can’t watch (especially with a migraine slowly burgeoning), so I leave the room until it’s over. When I go back in, I’m faced with a tableau of devastation and tragedy, and it’s clear this is one of the must-see moments of the new production. Sadly, for me, it’s a must-not-see, or I shall end up in a real hospital.

**SPOILER FOR 1:1 SELECTION (BUT NOT THE 1:1 CONTENT)**

Omar is here, his storyline having been recast to incorporate the new events. He leads the entire company to a small room, where he selects for a 1:1. To my surprise, though, it’s not a 1:1 with him. It appears to be a 1:1 with the Nurse. Gah, an opportunity lost. OK, next loop maybe.

**(SPOILER ENDS)**

Omar leaves the room, locks the door and pockets the key with an air of finality. He seems satisfied, smug even. He strides off, followers in tow. I’m left on my own, waiting for Miranda to finish her 1:1. But she emerges sooner than I expect, and from a different door. We’re alone together in the corridor. She pauses, looks at me. Her stare is direct, challenging; her expression disdainful. The flicker of recognition I caught yesterday in the ballroom has disappeared. There is no flirty witch tonight. Then she hands me the towels she’s carrying, tilts her head as if to say, “come on, then”, and leads the way back to the hospital.

From that moment on, she owns me. Every action I take is dictated by her whim. We proceed through a series of interactions (moving beds, hanging up jackets, holding things), no doubt mundane to watch for those not involved; but for me it’s a series of duties I must carry out perfectly for fear of punishment. No matter what I do, she seems dissatisfied; not once does her expression alter from contempt, bordering on disgust. The impression given is that she didn’t want this job, she didn’t ask to do this job, and since I’m here I might as well make it easier on her - but I shouldn’t expect any thanks. Only a few times does her aura change: the table dance, the 1:1s (yes, more than one), a new scene with the new characters.

(A brief digression on this new scene: it’s utterly beautiful and charming. Everything I found wanting in SNM New York is present in this scene: compassion, affection, gentleness, beauty. One of the highlights of the Shanghai show, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I only wish I was at liberty to tell you what it is.)

(Miranda’s Nurse, taken from the show programme. I’ve not been able to find this at a higher resolution, would be grateful if anyone can supply it.)

She fills out a medical form, tears it off, hands it to me. I don’t know what to do with it. For several minutes I walk around holding this bloody piece of paper, trying to perform the interactions with one hand. Eventually she turns away, and with relief I fold it and put it into my back pocket. As I’m doing so, she turns back to me and presents me with her medical bag. My hands are full. Another white mask steps in and opens it. She glares at me with a look bordering on hatred. You had one job… Despite this I appear to be forgiven, as she delivers me both 1:1s (I was going to say more about them - without spoilers - but things written in print cannot be erased; let’s just say Miranda put a lot of trust in me).

Miranda’s table dance deserves singling out. As with her Sexy Witch bar dance, the control she has, the range of expression she displays, the almost inhuman ability she has to defy gravity with her body (imagine raising your entire body from flat on your back to a 45-degree angle without the use of your hands, then returning to horizontal - I mean, just try it), the risks she takes, the total dedication and immersion into character she has… it is almost impossible to describe a Miranda solo without finding the words inadequate. You simply have to see it.

As I’m watching her perform this dance, her left shoe flies off. She finishes the routine, slides to the end of the table, lands directly next to me, fixes me with that look of stricture, and holds up a finger. “Wait!” her eyes say. She dips to the floor and slides the shoe on, dextrously tying the laces, as if this was all carefully rehearsed. I know it’s not, and I fear she’ll miss her next cue, but all is well - it takes mere seconds. Then, as if rewarding me for waiting, she hauls me off to a 1:1.

I stick loyally with her (she gives me no choice) until the beautiful new scene I mentioned earlier. Since Ben is involved in this scene, however, and since I haven’t seen this story in full, I decide to follow him from this point (thereby spoiling Miranda’s plans for me, as she reveals a few days later - but more on that in another write-up).

Ben’s character - is it sufficiently common knowledge yet that we can safely refer to him as the Husband? - is utterly lovable. A well-meaning man, constantly at the mercy of people who manipulate and beguile him, his intense good nature shines through his narrative thread. Eager to please, he finds himself tricked, seduced, bullied, pressured and ultimately almost destroyed by the forces around him. He’s the only Husband I spent time with on this trip, so I can’t say how the others played him, but after his cynical, snarling, despairing Conrad in TDM this is a major departure and testimony to his versatility as a performer. Ben’s interplay with Omar is one of the highlights of the show; the former naive, vulnerable, trying to do his best; the latter manipulative, cruel, tyrannical and two-faced. Again, how other performers present this two-hander I can’t say, but these two old friends (who would rarely if ever have shared a scene in TDM) are right on each other’s wavelength.

I’ll say more about them in my next write-up, which starts with Omar, but Ben’s Husband loop gives me good insight into the new story, which has a charming narrative thread and a beautiful, heartbreaking final scene - to say nothing of THAT scene which everyone’s talking about, which I can’t witness, but which sounds like the kind of jaw-dropping, mind-expanding experience Punchdrunk prides itself on (oh, and there’s also another new scene which I’ll cover in the next show’s write-up). I do wonder why something like this couldn’t have been incorporated into New York - might yet be - but that’s for a different post.

I feel bad not giving Ben as much time in this report as I’ve given Miranda. But there’s too much about the new story I can’t reveal, and my relationship with Ben throughout the loop is distant and observational, not collaborative like with Miranda.

With those loops over, I wander the space looking for something to catch my imagination. I catch a few moments of Omagbitse’s Bald Witch, who is powerful, bordering on terrifying, with a rawness and vividness arguably missing from other interpretations. But I lose her in the crowd, and it’s time to move on.

The pain in my head isn’t getting any better. I try to spend some time with the Porter, hoping I can sit on one of the chairs in the lobby and catch a break, but he’s never there when I wander through. The crowds are getting tiresome, and I only catch glimpses of scenes from behind people’s heads. Eventually I calculate that the Nurse’s loop must be coming towards its conclusion. I find the Nurse and the Matron together upstairs. Like the evil twins in The Shining, they march in lockstep through the corridors and rooms, as if on a mission. When they get to the Macbeths’ suite they take advantage of their employers’ sudden absence in a way I won’t reveal but which is very amusing. Then they tidy up in conspiratorial fashion, as if aware all this is going to be played out again tomorrow. Finally they turn and look at the audience.

I’ve positioned myself for a final moment with Miranda, but it’s Tangtang who catches my eye. She takes me down through the crowds to watch the finale, then escorts me silently to the Manderley, where we part company without a word. Her bearing is quietly controlled, her face as impassive as her co-conspirator. In New York the Nurse and Matron seemed to be long-lost sisters eventually finding each other; in Shanghai their relationship seems much more equal, more like co-workers engaged in pulling the strings of the top floor activities.

My head is throbbing dangerously, and I’m wondering how much of tomorrow I’m going to lose to my illness. I bid my fellow westerners goodnight. But on leaving I find myself in the company of Omar and Fania, and they are so delightful and engaging that I lose another hour in conversation. Omar in particular is a mine of information about TDM, about Punchdrunk-style performance and about his experiences as the Fool, obviously a subject close to my heart. By the time I’m in bed it’s gone midnight and I have lost any chance of seeing any of Shanghai tomorrow. But: for two days with Miranda, and more besides? Worth the sacrifice.

#punchdrunk #snm shanghai #sleep no more

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karanguni · 6 years

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Yuletide Reveals 2017

'Tis that time of the year again! Hello to anyone who's wandering over from AO3 - feel free to drop in and say hi if you want :) No The Culture this year from me ): But an oddball collection of other things nearly out of my wheelhouse, but not quite! This year'll have a bit of a DVD-extra commentary: I'm trying to get back into the swing of journalling, as I do every Yuletide. Writing-wise, I badly wanted to get done in October, and ended up writing down to the wire in December. Pro-tip: if you have family over for the whole of one month, then nothing but travel and work explosions for the next two, and no vacation days left leading up to Christmas and the New Year... You're going to have an interesting time of it. I was saved by going on a writing meetup with another local Yuletider, which forced me to stop being needlessly distracted. Assignment: Machineries of Empire - Meditative Aids For meguri_aite. 11K casefic of Mikodez running around the Academy. I'm usually astonishingly bad at writing length for my main assignment, even when I want to, but this went from "I'll bang out about 5K" to "oh... crap" pretty rapidly. I wanted to stay true to canon without trying to imitate it, all things considered, so I threw pastiche out the window and went for Mikodez barrelling his way to being the youngest Shuos Hexarche. I'm finding, more and more, than matching to single character Yuletide prompts where I go on to write backstory can be terrifying: I'm a decent writer, but these things sometimes have to carry their own weight without much interaction with any other canonical characters and that's a challenge. I'm constantly wondering if it's too navel-gazey, or too tell-not-show, and there's this propensity to rely on the strength of style or prose over actual content. Throw in the fact that my brain melted when trying to render my usual stylistic... stuff and this one was a bit of a gamble. Solid core of canonical support aside, Mikodez doesn't actually talk to anyone else from the canon for most of 9,000 words. ?!?!? Here's where a second pair of eyes is always helpful, and I'm grateful to Sath for making sure I wasn't just tilting at windmills the whole time. Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu - Smoke For pi. 1K, Kikuhiko and magical realism. Rhea has done so many wonderful podfics for me over the years that when I saw them request Rakugo I made a little fist-pump of despair while trapped in one airport or another and avowed to try my best to get something out there. This fandom is a giant snakepit for me because I'm always tempted to go back to Japanese language source materials that I really, really don't need to go to and that I really, really shouldn't use as a crutch. I sat there about 48 hours to the deadline clutching at this tiny volume of rakugo stories, staring at its iteration of shinigami, and had to force myself to shut it and just write. Ironically, I think that was for the better: after a real struggle of a Yuletide, I hit my style stride somewhere in here. (Or at least I hope so.) Vorkosigan Saga - Defensive Tactics For yhlee. 3K, Ges/Aral pre-canon. /waves to yhlee *g* Ges/Aral! A great place to wander in Vorkosigan fandom, because it's where angels fear to tread. But I was determined to treat back, dang it, so HERE YOU GO FOR THE SECOND YEAR RUNNING. I plead jetlag for throwing Ges' canon birth order out of the window, but I was quite beyond trawling the Vorkosigan BB - the important part was that Aral, even in a state of Ultimate Shitasticness, probably wasn't attracted to Ges just because he was a good roll in the hay. I aimed for yhlee's prompt of "high school prom night" and ended up with Aral and Ges dance circles around each other... for years. That's almost the same thing, right? As a belated rec, I highly recommend philomytha's political-intrigue laced drunken Vor beach party of a Ges/Aral fic, A Marvellous Party. Philomytha is a much, much defter hand at Vor politics than I. Tang Dynasty RPF - go out the door For quillori. Li He... in space. One of the many interesting things to come out of coding the tagset app and - at some points - manually massaging six-thousand-and-mumble prompts into JSON submission is that I incidentally laid eyes on fandoms that I never would have thought of searching for. I am far from familiar with Chinese (nevermind Tang) poetry, compared to my usual Japanese schtick; I have about a handful of poets and some broad historiographical understanding of Chinese literary history, partially from a forced education 10 years ago and partially from college. But Quillori's letter had an excellent set of English-language sources for Li He, and my god. I read one and couldn't turn back. Very few poets come across so strongly in translation, but I read the King of Qin Drinks Wine and fell instantly in love. While on vacation. Trapped on top of a mountain range. In another country. But, seriously, look at this:

The king of Qin tours the cosmos on tigerback, his sword's glimmer illuminating the clear, blue heavens. As Xihe whips the sun, glass is chiming; ashes of the old world, burnt asunder, flit about; peace reigns eternal. Drinking wine from a dragon-flask, he invites the god of wine to join him, his gold-set pipa twanging dyang-dyang in the night. The pitter-patter of the rain on Dongting Lake sounds like the blowing of a flute, deep in his wine, the King shouts at the moon, causing it to change direction. Silver clouds piled high, dawn comes to the bejeweled palace; the doorman announces the coming of night. In the flower palace, with its jade phoenixes, a woman's charming voice; a robe made of merfolk's thread and decorated with a crimson pattern, tinged with a faint scent, is worn by a yellow-robed serving girl who dances a dance of wishing for the king's reign to last a thousand years. The candles burn light smoke; the handmaiden's eyes well up with tears of purest water.

I don't know how I went from "who the hell is Li He" to "WHY ARE THERE NO AUDIO RECORDINGS OF THIS; THE SPOKEN RHYME IN THESE POEMS IS SO SUBLIME" to "oh shit" in a matter of hours, but... somehow it ended up with Li He in space talking to the lady on the moon. Okay, brain. Sure. This makes it the second year in a row I've gone and done "what?" research into fandoms written in non-modern East Asian languages which I am certainly not fluent in, then taken said research and thrown it into space. I regret nothing. (I was beyond chuffed to see my recip from last year, for whom I wrote equally-unlikely Tale of Heike space opera, show up during the anon period! Ahhh!) On the non-writing end, I spent a little coding time and a few too many hours of maintenance spinning up the tagset/letters/prompts app, or whatever you want to call it. It started out as a little exercise in wanting to get the comma-separated hell that is the AO3 tagset into something that didn't sear my eyes out, and expanded out into a little bit of everything. I'm glad that people found it useful, and am super fortunate that many generous souls donated a dollar here and there to help with hosting costs when we collectively hammered the thing to death in October/November. comments Comment on DW: http://ift.tt/2EuZseY

#crossposted #dreamwidth

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