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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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Superior is INDEFENCIBLE Part 2: Odds and Ends

Part 1

As a little follow up to this post I want to wrap up some defences I have encountered for both Superior #2 and the Superior storyline in general.

To start with we have more hypocrisy from the man I once admired as he tried to defend his position on Superior.

He was challenged on his primary argument that Peter and MJ’s separation justified her obliviousness now that they are back together; for further details see the above linked post.

In response to this challenge he said:

“I think there is more to my argument then "They've lived apart for a year" and her relationship with him during that time doesn't have to hold relevance to their relationship after being apart.”

Like…this guy was for fucking real.

OF COURSE their relationship back then is going to hold relevance to their relationship after being apart.

Obviously with the benefit of hindsight Nick Spencer’s run proves this to be the case. And you can refer back to my prior post where I dive deeper into the topic.

However, in that post I was talking about the specific nuances of Peter and MJ’s relationship.

What’s mind boggling is that in the above quote he’s making an even bigger reach. Jesus Christ OF COURSE their past relationship is going to hold relevance for their then-current one.

That’s how relationships work!

FFS, romantic or otherwise everyone’s relationship with everyon else is shaped by the past. This is like arguing Peter hating Norman for killing Gwen Stacy doesn’t have to be relevant to their relationship after his return to the Clone Saga.

I mean shit dude, Peter’s high school romance with Betty Brant was relevant to their romance after he graduated college!

This is how all types of relationships work. You don’t just jump in after awhile, start fresh and then nothing from the past has any bearing on the present. Even in the most positive of scenarios the fact that you are getting together again would still be shaped by the fact that you liked each other in the first place.

And for the life experiences those two shared that’d go a thousand fold.

Now let’s move on to some over miscellaneous comments sent to me a looooooooooooong time ago.

I’ve had this stuff in my drafts for years!

For the sake of catharsis I’ve decided to clear it out. It revolves around Superior Spider-Man and the comments I’m responding to were made before the original volume ended in 2014.

“Rob Wrecks wrote:Why would Aunt May even react to it? She doesn't even know the identity of Spidey now.”

In Civil War she was able to tell that the Chameleon, a MASTER of disguise who was being more subtle than Otto was, was not her nephew.

Whilst she might not know he is Spider-Man she knows her nephew so she should react and become questionable regarding his change in demeanor and behavior. What’s the old saying ‘A mother always knows’.

“As for MJ, they aren't even married anymore either. Sure she remembers who is under the mask. But I doubt she's gonna bring trouble on herself for prying.”

I address a lot of this in this post.

Basically, not being married anymore has nothing to do with it. This woman lived with this man for years (five to be precise) and had a very close relationship with him which involved countless tragedies and traumas. That doesn’t just go away. This is to say nothing of the fact that she has known this man for about 10 years and has been his friend and girlfriend during that time. In fact in Stern’s run when she knew who he was but didn’t let him know, she was depicted as knowing him better than anyone and was able to read him as a book. This was back when they weren’t as close as they are now, hadn’t known each other for as long and she didn’t know him as intimately as she would later come to down the road. In ASM #290 Peter himself says MJ knows him as well as he knows himself and this was before the marriage.

Even in Slott’s run this depiction of Mary Jane knowing Peter better than anyone else was highlighted in various stories like Spider Island, a time travel arc, Alpha, and a Lizard arc at HORIZON labs.

In JMS’ run Peter and Mary Jane were shown to be somewhat in synch even though they were separated at the time and had been for a long while going back. This was showcased in ASM V2 #50 and they had been effectively separated with minimal interaction as far back as ASM V2 #13; arguably even issue #1.

And yet she understood him and knew him very well, falling back into synch with him when they reconciled. Yes there was some awkwardness and them getting to know each other again but it was not on the same level of Otto guzzling champagne, creating spider bots, talking in a manner which was unlike the way he’s ever spoken before and MJ just wondering passingly then dismissing it. This woman has lived through the Chamelon, robot parents and clones and lives in a world where friggin Skrulls have invaded.

This out of character behaviour should send off alarm bells. She DOES clock something is off in Superior #10 but only when he says a phrase she’s never heard him say before. He was doing shit MUCH more out of character before then and she was dismissing it.

Later she was STILL dismissing the notion that Peter wasn’t himself as merely crazy on her part.

Again this woman knows Peter can be/has been cloned repeatedly. This woman even for awhile believed Peter himself was a clone so she knows even memories can be replicated. But Peter is acting so obviously NOT himself that it’s practically SCREAMING at her that she should get this. In fact Peter’s ghost point this out which is Slott lampshading the situation. That doens’t make it good writing that’s just pointing out how bad your story is.

“Hasn't she (I'm guessing he's referring to Aunt May?) been focused lately on her new marriage though? I don't read enough of Spidey these days so I'm only going with bits and pieces I've read about here and there.”

What does being married recently or focusing upon it have to do with anything?

In Civil War she was focused upon not dying because Peter’s ID reveal had upended her life.

If you are someone’s MOTHER and have raised them all their life you will absolutely be able to tell when something is wrong, when they are in fact not the real deal.

“As for MJ, who would she go too? Not like anyone would likely believe her unless she had a telepath scan her mind.”

Who would she go to? I dunno maybe the fucking Avengers or Fantastic Four who are Peter’s friends and team mates. Or maybe not go that far why not go to Black Cat, Human Torch or Daredevil . These are all people whom she knows (at least vaguely in regards to Daredevil) personally and have access to technology that can prove things one way or another.

Even if you argue that it’s not fair bringing in the wider Marvel Universe, Black Cat, Carlie, HORIZON labs, the Bugle staff and Scarlet Spider are all Spider-Man franchise characters.

“Now there could be a possibility she's making a list of his behavior and the like and is just waiting for the right time to say something when she knows she's less likely to die from it.

Maybe Slott's just got something going that'll eventually be revealed? Who knows.”

Oh boy, that didn’t stand the test of time did it?

This is just shitty analysis on principle. It hinges upon blind faith and writing stuff in your head about what characters are doing behind the scenes.

There was NEVER an indication MJ was doing anything like that and her actions actually contradicted event he idea of her doing any of that stuff.

The net responses are to the statement that Doc Ock was a gentleman who would treat women with respect.

“Keyword there, 'was' a gentlemen. I can imagine after years of defeats at the hands of Spidey, certain habits would change and he wouldn't care anymore.

It could have just been a subtle change that no one really noticed. He did try and end the world before #700 if I recall right.”

You need to SHOW those habits changing. The last major Doctor Octopus story before BND was in JMS’s run when he was very much a gentleman. You can’t just say his illness and defeats suddenly transformed him into a would be rapist. It’s utterly out of character for him. It’d be like bringing back Ben Reilly and making him a mass murderer. WHY is he a mass murderer.

(Fun fact. The stuff I bolded about Ben Reilly was something I wrote at the time. I kept it in because of how sadly ironic it wound up being…fuck Clone Conspiracy seriously)

Ending the world before #700 is one thing IN Doc Ock’s character. He is egotistical and wants acknowledgement of his genius.

Superior depicted him going against a character trait he’s always had. In his origin story, when he was ‘courting’ Aunt May, when he was involved with Stunner and Lady Octopus and the like he has always been show to have a respect for women and not had to resort to cheap ploys to woo them.

In Superior he was trading off of MJ’s relationship with Peter and Peter’s memories to basically abuse this woman. That is beneath Doctor Octopus. He is an intellectual a man for whom such actions are debase, the realm of the common thug whilst he is much more he is DOCTOR OCTOPUS.

BTW in Web of Death it was established that Doc Ock probably would not target MJ or Peter’s family even though he knew Peter’s identity.

So for him to suddenly switch to ‘I’m gonna fuck his girlfriend to get one over on him” is again utterly out of character.

‘Web of Death’ was co-written by Tom DeFalco btw, who established Otto’s origin. Thus the argument is flying in the face of someone who helped define the character with no explanation at all.

Slott had done this with other characters like Ashley Kafka.Suddenly the most naively compassionate woman in the world who believed she could redeem CARNAGE is saying this lesser serial killer is a complete monster. That is piss poor writing.

Even if Slott WERE to establish and show how Ock went from one extreme to the other it doesn’t make it a good idea. Doc Ock would be rapist is a lot less interesting than Doc Ock the lone super villain who is part gentleman and part humanitarian with a respect for women. If this was Norman Osborn in Peter’s body, or Electro, or Shocker I’d believe these actions.

The topic then changed to Carlie Cooper’s depiction in Superior as a goddam idiot who isn’t even telling MJ Peter might be evil. “Red Hood wrote: Carlie and Wraith followed Ock’s paper trail because she knows for fact that peter parker doesnt have the money to fund his own private army, the reason she hasnt said anything is because it's not such a good idea to go pointing fingers without absolute truth, remember eddie brock and how he was so sure about the sin eater?”

Carlie’s investigation was going incredibly sloooooooooooooooooowly. Not only was it dull reading, but it made her completely unsympathetic. Why not warn Mary Jane by saying “Look before he died Doc Ock told me he and Spider-Man had swapped bodies. I’m not saying Peter IS Doc Ock but just....be careful MJ”.

Or why not inform the Avengers or Fantastic Four about this. Sure the Avengers gave him a physical but they wouldn’t know what to look for. And why is Carlie Cooper all of a sudden saying “Wait I KNOW Peter doesn’t have this kind of cash so this is a big clue that he isn’t himself.” When her first big clue should have been that time Spider-Man SHOT SOMEONE IN THE FACE!

“also peter and mj arent married anymore.”

See above.

You don’t just suddenly fall out of knowing someone if you’ve been THAT close to them and known them for that long just because suddenly you are not married anymore. She has deduced subtle differences in the Chameleon and clones before this but Ock is NOT being subtle whatsoever. He isn’t even talking the same way he normally does. And Mister Red Hood even says so himself, Carlie can tell right way. His co-workers whom he’s known for LESS THAN A YEAR can tell something is up. But the woman who’s been closer to him than ANYONE in his life, she can’t tell. That is bullshit of the highest order.

“1. mj and peter arent married anymore, idk if they were married in identity crisis but remember how after the deal with mephisto they were separated for x amount of years before she even came back to new york, i can see her not being able to tell peter is acting different at that point. aunt may and the avengers though don't get a pass especially when carlie who knew him the least could tell right away.”

See above.

When you separate from someone you’ve been that close to those feelings don’t just disappear. This is especially true of people who’ve been through immensely traumatic events together. Soldiers often find that only fellow soldiers, specifically ones who were with them in combat, can truly understand what they went through and how they felt. It creates an emotional/mental bond. Same thing here. Peter and Mary Jane went through Venom, Kraven’s Last Hunt, the death of Harry, Gwen, aunt May, Ben Reilly, the clone saga as a whole, Civil War, Peter’s OWN death, Maximum Carnage and so on. They’d have that kind of connection I was speaking about, you don’t just forget it to the point where you let MASSIVE differences in behaviour slide, especially massive differences in behaviour which are different to the way he was acting LAST WEEK!

“3. Also i don't think his [Doc Ock’s] actions are entirely out of character, i mean he was dead, then revived, beat down for several years into a dying body. given time to think about all the things you would do if given another chance i dont think its out of the question for doc to say "great, second chance at life with a movie starhottie gf". also if you'll threaten the city, then the world, then mind swap with someone i dont think having sex is that big a stretch.”

See my comments above why this IS out of character for Doc Ock. Again this isn’t just him wanting to get laid this is him potentially date raping an innocent woman. You need to SHOW the progression of that change

And rape in comic book fiction is understood to be worse from the reader’s POV than the various Saturday Morning Cartoon style crimes he’s pulled.

The next comment was in response to the public’s indifference towards Spider-Man shooting Massacre in the face! “7. As far as no one caring about massacre, didn't he break out a few times and inflict his namesake? no one is going to care that a killer like that gets shot, humans aren't dignified at all. i can see aunt may saying something but no one else is going to be like "oh great that killer is back in jail, too bad all criminals break out" no they're going to be like "finally someone put down this thug, maybe my life or someone i care about will be spared from him at least in the future" and maybe it was caught on security cameras or phones but maybe they deleted it, i mean spider-man just shot a dude in the face and if he wanted there would be nothing anyone could do to stop him from putting the hurt on someone else”

This is just rubbish.

No one is going to care? For God’s sake the police in real life get reprimanded for using unnecessary force.

The law is the law you CANNOT publically execute an unarmed man. And my point was no one, not even Mary Jane or Jonah, were reacting to this mind-blowingly out of character action on the part of Spider-Man. Maybe they do not care that Massacre was killed but they should be wondering “Jesus that’s not like Spider-Man at all”. This was Spider-Man becoming absolutely EVERYTHING Jameson ever falsely accused him of and no one reacted. And I am sorry but the attitude of ‘human’s aren’t dignified so they’d react like THIS” is extremely broad and generalised. This would be a major talking point and a major issue. This is EXACTLY what the entire ‘Civil War’ debacle was about. Super heroes running unchecked doing as they pleased. It’s been what, a year tops Marvel time since Civil War? If that stuff was deleted YOU NEED TO SHOW IT. The cover story is that EVERYONE in that massive crowd covered for him. That is in no way shape or form how humans actually act. And who would there be to stop like a teenager or a kid or a lone person in the crowd from tweeting “OMG Spider-Man just shot this dude” or uploading a video or picture. They were CHEERING him on they wouldn’t be afraid of him being reprimanded. Once something like that hit the internet it’d spread like wildfire, it wouldn’t be something that if immediately taken down would die away, especially when THE NEWS was stating Spider-Man had ‘neutralised Massacre’ and then Massacre shows up dead, WTF would the public THINK happened?

“Aaron Alexander Luthor wrote: Superior is an excellent title, but I feel you approached it having already made up your mind. Doc Ock NEVER attempted date rape, and I don't know where you get that from”

Boy, I wonder where I got the idea of Otto trying to rape MJ from? What an obviously ‘excellent’ title.

Trying to sleep with Mary Jane whilst tricking her into thinking he is Peter Parker then that is categorically trying to date rape her. He didn’t go through with it because he discovered he could just wank off to her memories (I can’t believe I wrote that) but that is exactly what he was trying to do. Maybe to HIM he didn’t think of it as rape but yeah that’s exactly what it was.

“He ripped off his own shirt, not hers.”

I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about here btw.

“Mary Jane had/has mentioned several times that there is something wrong with him and that she thinks there is something strange going on, he also hasn't spoken to her in weeks in the time frame of the comic.”

Yes MJ has noticed passingly things are wrong but then he feeds her a line and she buys it or otherwise she dismisses it herself. This in monumentally out of character for her given her history and makes her incredibly stupid, which is the ONLY way this title could have worked out. Again, she lives in a world of Skrulls, clones, LMDs and shape shifters one of which is literally an enemy of Peter’s and has tried impersonating him multiple times (targeting her specifically twice). But she either doesn’t clock anything is wrong or doesn’t really react when she does. And he HAD spoken to her within weeks by the time or Superior #2.

“Same goes for Aunt May, he visited her the first few weeks as Parker, and hasnt spoken to her since. He is basically ignoring the people in Peter's life, and they have taken notice.”

See my response about Aunt May not knowing. Again, this woman RAISED him and she could tell when the master of disguise who was being a lot more subtle about impersonating Peter was not her son/nephew.

Also he wasn’t exactly ignoring the HORIZON labs staff was he?

“When he killed Massacre, some of the civilians were shocked and appalled, but when the police investigated all the officers on the scene lied for Spidey, because they think he did the right thing. That is why the only officers still interested are Carlie Cooper who does know, and is ACTIVELY trying to prove it isnt Peter, and Captain Watanabe aka The Wraith”

My point about NO ONE taking photos, tweeting, facebooking or whatever still stands as does the security cameras thing and the fact that Massacre was TRYING TO GET PUBLICITY. Again with Carlie why is she not warning SOMEBODY at this point. It isn’t like they wouldn’t believe her after Massacre. It isn’t like Spider-Man isn’t acting weird. It isn’t like body swapping is a legit THING in the Marvel universe. For God’s sake this happened to Captain America!

Kaine, the CLONE of Peter Parker with identical memories and everything. In the Sibling Rivaly crossover between Scarlet Spider and Superior Team-Up even HE couldn’t tell that Peter. Was an imposter This guy doesn’t just know Peter well, he IS Peter. And Otto was ranting none too subtley about how Kaine has bad blood with HIM. He doesn’t say he’s Doc Ock but he’s conveying unsubtly to Kaine that he is not Peter Parker and he is not TALKING like Peter Parker either. When his CLONE is still operating under the delusion that he is Peter Parker that’s put it beyond doubt this was ridiculously contrived.

“BTW, Carlie and MJ have talked about the suspicious way Pete has been acting, Carlie just hasnt told MJ directly.”

WHY didn’t Carlie tell MJ! And WHY were she and Peter noticing Peter’s different actions yet being totally blasé about them.

FFS in ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’ MJ and Peter had been married for just 2 weeks and in that time she was able to deduce from his actions that the guy in the Spider-Man suit was NOT Peter. In the Mark of Kaine an identical clone of Peter approaches her and she is ultimately able to tell (twice) that he is not her husband. And she did this whilst pregnant and stressed out from a life or death situation to say nothing of the fact that Aunt May had recently died which would be weighing on her mind. Yet in Superior her mind was clearer and she was still buying this was Peter. This is enormously bad out of character writing for her

“As for the Avengers scans, it wasnt that no one could read them, its that they all came back NORMAL.”

No, the scans DID NOT come back normal at all. Doc Ock looked at the scans and could TELL something was not normal because he saw ghost Peter was in his mind. Yeah there was a tiny inconsistency in the brain waves but why the heck weren’t there people on the Avengers team that day to take note of stuff like that. Cap, Wolverine, Black Widow and Thor are obviously NOT going to be able to properly read this scientific equipment like Iron Man or Hank Pym or the Beast. ANY of those guys would’ve been able to tell but no only the Avengers who categorically would not be able to properly read the brainwaves were there. Why? Why get the unscientific Avengers? Because of plot contrivances is why.

And where were the telepaths? One telepathic scan from SOMEBODY should have told all. And again these tests come back normal....no one thought he could be a clone? Spider-Man has joked to these people about his clones, they know about them. Correct me if I am wrong but at the time of the Avenger’s physical of Peter wasn’t there a character involved with the Avengers who was supposed to be the living universe? SHE couldn’t tell Doc Ock is Spider-Man? The universe literally didn’t know this?

“Even Dr. Strange and Wolverines tests all came back regular.”

If Dr. Strange with all his power wasn’t able to deduce the truth that’s even MORE contrived!

And what the heck were Wolverine’s test? That he smelt the same? Of course he would.

“There was a tiny inconsistency in the brainwaves, it wasnt that no one could read it, its that it was so small that no one would even take notice of it, except for Peter or Ock if they were to look for it.”

See above for why this is bullshit.

“And the Avengers are STILL very suspicious, if you read the current titles.”

At the time a ‘current title’ was Superior Team Up #1.

In it the Avengers told him they were wrong to put him in probation and are still just ‘suspicious’ when he INVADED SHADOWLAND WITH AN ARMY!. Because THAT’S so usual for Spider-Man right?

“You're entitled to your opinion, but you cant just make up facts and call it a discussion. I get the impression that you a)Havent read the whole series; b) Had already made up your mind before reading the issues you have read; and c) Havent read the companion stories (i.e. Avenging Spider-Man, Superior Team-up, Hickman's Avengers titles). If you look at the story as a whole, its actually quite good.”

Said the guy who got all the above information I outlined WRONG.

From a technical point of view it doesn’t make sense, it uses contrivances and out of character writing to keep it going. You want to write Doc Ock as Spider-Man. Okay then don’t surround him with people who should be able to figure this out. Or say there is some kind of device redirecting their attention.

Don’t have Doc Ock not act like Doc Ock because that defeats the point of the exercise. Don’t go for deliberate sensationalism or crass storytelling which was essentially everything revolving around him hooking up with Mary Jane and then the oh so lovely page of the Superior Spider-Wanker.

That issue in particular even resolved itself in a contrived manner. Doc Ock begins uttering gibberish which recalled One Moment in Time about “we cannot be together because it’s an unsolvable equation blah blah blah”.

Basically he is saying “I can never be with you because of the danger I put you in”; which is Slott using the character as a mouthpiece.

In the next issue Otto began courting a student at his college because consistency rocks. Even Ghost Peter is out of character at this moment “WOW Ock you did the one thing I could never do and walked away from Mary Jane”. Peter is right he probably can’t walk away from Mary Jane but...does he WANT to? Where the heck is this coming from? What is worse is that it’s so unnecessary. There was a MUCH better explanation for Ock breaking up with MJ. If Ock were in character he could just come to the conclusion that sleeping with MJ under these circumstances would be wrong and beneath him hence he wouldn’t go through with it. If Ock was out of character as he was in their issue but still vaguely in character he could just come to the conclusions that since accessing Peter’s memories he’s begun to have genuine feelings for MJ and doesn’t just want to fuck her, it would involve him having a relationship with here which at this point in time he is incapable of, he doesn’t know how to handle it. I will wholeheartedly admit I was not jazzed about the concept of Superior from the outset. If nothing else I want to read about Peter Parker not Doc Ock and if I did want to read about Doc Ock AS Doc Ock, not as Spider-Man and not as an rotting body.

An arc in a comic is one thing doing this long term all the problems I foresaw have come up as well as some I didn’t even predict. This could have worked if Doc Ock was separated from Peter’s supporting cast who should be able to tell something is amiss but then that defeats a lot of the point of the story. It was a lose-lose situation.

People can enjoy garbage if you want but don’t call it gold.

Part 1

#The Superior Spider-Man #Superior Spider-Man #Dan Slott #otto octavius #Doc ock #Doctor Octopus #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Aunt May #May Parker #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Peter Parker #Spider-man #Civil War 2006

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apprenticemcthot · 4 years

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Apprentice April

no one asked for this but I wanted to write more about my boy so I answered all 20 questions for #ApprenticeApril

1. The Basics. What is your character’s name? How old are they? How tall are they? Skin color? Eye color? Hair color? Gender identification?

Patleayegan, from the Nahuatl patlea (medicine) and yegan (guide). Though he goes mostly by PJ because he had a hard time remembering his own name when Asra had to teach him to speak again after coming back to life. The “y” is actually pronounced as a “j”, so PJ stems from the syllables (Patlea-Jegan).Asra began calling him that instead, and the nickname stuck.

late 20′s, around Asra’s age

5′2″ (158 cm), he comes from a long lineage of shorties

brown skin, brown eyes, brown hair ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he/him pronouns, but as someone who was taught by Asra, he has no regard for gender

2. Love Interest. Who does your character love? What attracted them to that particular LI?

Julian. He actually had a slight crush on him when he apprenticed for him during the plague. that crush carried over 3 years after when the two met again. At first, his looks were certainly a factor. but once they got to know each other, Julian’s incredible irony of being both a flirt and easily flustered amused PJ

For all the other Love Interests, I use an MC named Naz (they/them)

3. Familiar. Does your character have a familiar? How did they meet?

his dear Tlahtoani. Toani for short. he’s a white Cairn Terrier. They met when PJ was about 6, wandering around the streets. He found Toani looking for food scraps and took him home, fed him, and fell in love with the little ball of mayhem

4. Hobbies. What kinds of things does your character like to do for fun?

Literature. He loves to read. when he came back to life, Asra taught him how to speak again by reading to him. eventually, PJ fell in love with literature. prose and poetry alike. he loves to write love letters to Julian.

5. Hidden talents. Is there something neat that your character can do? Tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue? Say any word backwards perfectly?

Lingustics. He’s very good with languages. once he re-learned the Vesuvian language post-plague, he didn’t stop there. he’s fluent in 3 languages and can hold a simple conversation in 5. can read 3 different types of alphabets. has a talent for pronunciation. oh, he’s also pretty acrobatic.

6. Magical talents. Is there a specific type of magic that your character excels at? Any magic they aren’t so great at? Or do they actually shy away from magic altogether?

Fire Magic. He’s best at magic that involves the elements, but as someone who tends to have strong emotions, he’s the best at using fire. Almost burned down the shop the first time he tried it with Asra post-plague

His family specialised in healing magic (hence his name) but he was never able to live up to his parent’s expectations. He prefers to use potions and herbs rather than his energy to heal. Asra taught him almost everything he knows about being a healer.

7. Interaction. How does your character typically interact with people?

polite boi in the streets, shady bitch in the sheets. He’s tends to carry an air of confidence and professionalism when talking to people he’s just met, especially those of higher social status. Likes to be kind to strangers. But once you get past that layer of chill, he is an absolute savage when it comes to come back. Will call his friends “foolish whores” as a term of endearment.

8. Romance. What is something that your character and their LI love to do together? How do they show affection?

Sleep together! not only in the sexy kind of way but also in the literal sense. Can and will cuddle with Julian for hours on end on any furniture in the shop.

Love letters. because of their work schedules, if PJ can’t spend his morning with Julian, he’ll write him little love notes and have Malak deliver them to him.

9. Travel. Does your character like to travel outside of Vesuvia? How often? For how long? What kinds of things do they do away from home?

Would love to travel the world but hasn’t found the time. It was his parents who did most of the traveling while he stayed behind in Vesuvia to watch the shop. Though after meeting Julian, the two have gone on their fair share of trips that were nothing short of honeymoon-like wink wink

10. WTF. Has anything just…weird ever happened to your character? Something that made them stop and go “What just happened?!”

well, apart from being brought back from the dead

lose things. he tends to misplace things quite often only for them to reappear months later. At first he thought it was Faust or maybe even the stove salamander hoarding his trinkets but turns out the shop itself has magic and it tends to be pretty mischievous

11. Crime. Has your character ever been arrested? If so, what did they do? Have they ever helped stop a crime?

other than buying illegal ingredients from the Red Market, he has no desire to break the law, especially if it means Nadia will be disappointed in him

12. Secrets. What is a secret that your character has? Are they in line for the throne in a far off land? Was there this one time at band camp…? Are they secretly involved in an assassin’s guild?

He’s actually AFAB but was able to change his body into something more affirming at an early age with the help of his parents who were Vesuvia’s best healer magicians at the time. (Though there was nothing they could do about his meager height)

He’s not exactly hiding this part of his past but he has spent the vast majority of his life in a body that is true to his identity that he often forgets about the body he was born in. In fact, it was Asra that had to explain this part of his past to him post-plague

13. Overcompensation. Is there something that your character just HAS to do better than anyone else? Or are they just that dang good without trying? If they see someone else showing off, what is their kneejerk reaction?

Has a tragic case of the Napoleon Complex in that he compensates for his lack of height with a pretty big attitude. Has the confidence of a dragon and the body of a lizard. Would rather climb over counters than have someone taller hand him something he can’t reach

also thinks he’s a good drinker but is a complete lightweight because of his small body

14. Fight Club. Is your character a good fighter? What kind of skills do they have?

Rutheless. He’s never killed anyone but had he been a gladiator, he would’ve absolutely destroyed his opponents. Again, his emotions heavily influence his fire magic, so he’s able to burn someone pretty badly if he finds himself angry/determined enough

Can and will cut a bitch during a bar fight. Not afraid to fight dirty. Skilled at hand-to-hand combat but prefers to use weapons.

15. The Arts. Is your character a creative type? What kinds of things can they create? Can they act? Street perform?

Really good visual artist (loves to paint and do sculptures), even better writer. Mediocre actor compared to Julian, so he prefers to write scenes and have Julian act them out

16. Goofy. Is your character a clown? Do they like to make people laugh?

More of a jokester than a clown really, though he’s really good at throwing shade (he learned from the best)

17. Language. Is your character multilingual? How many languages do they speak? Do they have an accent? Is it sexy? Is it silly? Do they have a multilingual lisp?

Bilingual, though he can read and understand a number of other languages. When speaking Vesuvian, dear darling boy has an accent that is the result of a bastardisation of all the languages he has encountered and picked up throughout the years. He has an accent most commonly see in people from the Western lands as that’s where his mother tongue originated.

In modern terms, his accent sounds like a grotesque combination of accents from Manchester, Brooklyn and Mexico

18. Embarrassment. What is something really embarrassing that your character has done/said?

Drunken stories. Doesn’t remember this himself, but before the plague PJ would so some pretty reckless and hilarious things whenever him and Asra would drink.

Julian has come to find that PJ still is a daredevil drunk

he did a backflip on top of a table at the Rowdy Raven and broke the table in half

19. Memory. Has your character gotten any of their memory back? If so, what? Did it change them?

Kind of. Most of what he knows about his past come from Asra telling him stories. barely remembers his family but is fine with it as he considers the other characters his family.

He sometimes gets small flashback of his childhood when he was about 6 or 7, but it’s mostly just images of him practicing magic

the most cherished memory he gained was that of his familiar Toani when they first met.

20. Family. Talk about your character’s family. Who were they?

In modern terms, his has Aztec heritage

His family comes from the West, though his parents moved to Vesuvia to start up what is now the magic shop

a long lineage of healer magicians

Had two siblings but both died alongside his parents during the plague.

Doesn’t know if he has any extended family, though Asra thinks that he might have some uncles and aunts left back West

#apprentice april #apprenticeapril #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana mc #the arcana apprentice #fan apprentice

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bloody-delicious · 5 years

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Can I get a matchup please?? I'm a 5'6" trans man with brown hair and blue eyes. I'm shy at first but eventually get super attached to people. I love horror movies and any type of physical affection. I love animals, especially cats. I often use humor to cope with my emotions and have a hard time letting people help me when I'm vulnerable.

I match you with: baby!

• baby can seem intimidating at first glance, and this impression is only further backed by her unpredictable personality and manic behavior, which often presents itself in the form of senseless violence. her character may have developed this way through how she was raised, and by her own family's reckless tendencies. surrounded by gore, drugs, and sex for the majority of her life, baby has grown to be a daredevil and adrenaline junkie. needless to say, you will never find yourself bored with her close by. although she mainly craves chaos and destruction in all possible forms, she finds pleasure in exploiting the innocent and helpless, whether this is through violence, sex, drinking, drugs, partying, etc. being the shy, quiet individual, you will find yourself in a world not many dare to enter in their lives, should you cross paths with baby. her approach to acquainting herself if someone happens to catch her eye is not unlike a feral animal attacking a small woodland creature-she walks with the gait of a predator whose mind and morals have long since expired, a wolfish grin spread across her lips that seems to want to just eat you up, sweetheart, her mannerisms rigid and wild, hands surprisingly strong in their grip and eyes unknowably hypnotic with the corruption and madness contained within them. her tongue is sharp as the knife shell use to pretty you up, and as alluring as the hunters snare. you cannot play with fire and not get burned.

• in the blistering heat of the south, under the bleeding sun walks a woman with the heart of the devil and the flesh of an angel, red gooey hands swinging, dripping at her sides, her soul hungry for more, always more. her lips reveal an insanity on a sugar high, words and phrases mashed together in quick speed and a wicked tone brought up from the depths of her dark soul. baby lives a life of hedonism and hellish delights, and while she enjoys having her fun, she doesnt mind having others tag along, especially if she takes a liking to them. however, it is more likely that one would become a victim rather than a friend if they became the unfortunate target of her attention. still, your demeanor fascinates her, your face when she first knew she had to add you to her collection, your beautiful tears when she woke you in her room as she strapped you to a chair. your suffering is unimaginable beauty to her, though she would not go as far as to inflict any permanent damage. it is hard for her to restrain herself when your choked sobs and cries of pain are the melodies sung by the very angels above, but she manages. she would also be sure to keep the rest of the firefly family at bay, claiming you as her personal victim, as she retrieved you herself. in the time that follows, it is reasonable to imagine she would include you in the "shows" she often performs, always with teasing touches and the occasional rough grasp, feeling your soft skin under her hands. due to her frequent mood swings, you may find her petting your hair in her room as she sits beside you facing the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon, turning the evening sky into a lovely earthy blue and deep lavender as the world falls asleep, the summer air of the night filling your lungs, baby whispering sweet nothings, calling you her pet, her pretty, pretty pet. on the other side, you may find her lashing out in frustration, you, bound to her chair and unable to flee from her fury, those violent hands of hers punching holes in the walls and scratching at them in pure anger until her fingertips bleed raw, incoherent screeches of rage filling the room as she attacks all that is around her, smashing glass and throwing furniture, every so often pausing to make her way to you, forcing her face just inches from yours, white knuckles gripping the arms of the chair, her hot breath on your flesh, wild eyes barely able to stay still in contact with yours, those oh so violent hands picking up glass from the floor and dragging across your cheek and watching intently with what can only be described as pleasure as the red paints your skin.

• it is clear that baby herself enjoys a good laugh, though her sense of humor can be regarded as disturbing and odd. though she always seems to be in an excessively happy state due to her mental issues, she still appreciates someone who can make her laugh. if you tell her a joke, she'll laugh, even if she'd heard it a thousand times, even if what you said wasnt even meant to be a joke at all. if you do manage to open up to her and continue to entertain her humor, she'll grow quite attached. while she does have her bad days, she'll mainly prefer to spend time laughing with you instead of going out and finding other victims to slaughter. of course, she'll never cease her killing rampage, but her body count will begin to lessen as she finds that she would rather be with you. death, gore, and pain are still her passions, but she'll try to shield you from some of her and her family's behavior if she notices that it bothers you-without being too obvious, she also dislikes being emotional and serious. she would far rather stay on her happy high and believe that nothing matters at all. it is unlikely she will ever truly open up completely to anyone, but she will attempt to do little things here and there that she thinks will make you happy. if confronted, she'll dismiss it with a laugh and increase her agression and wild behavior for a period so as to not arouse suspicion from your or her family.

• baby is all too familiar with the world of sex. she often uses her body to lure in potential victims, and sometimes even continues to have "fun" with them before the kidnapping/killing. she loves anything that makes her feel good, anything that gives her pleasure and gives it to her fast-thus, her habits of drinking, doing drugs, killing, and having a lot of sex. she doesnt care for anyone elses well being until she begins to grow feelings for you. she would most likely attempt to seduce you as soon as she kidnaps you, but will not continue if you dont appear to want it as much as she does. baby prefers a situation wherein she and her victim are both enjoying themselves and therefore focused on the task at hand rather than focusing only on how to get away and make her stop. if you and her actually manage to form a trusting, undoubtedly faithful relationship, one in which you would not run away as soon as she turned her back, baby would eventually free you of your chair and integrate you into the family. you can expect her to attempt to seduce you again, but if you deny her, she will question your feelings for her-baby is not familiar with cuddling or anything of that sort. to her, love is expressed through sex, and you being uninterested signals to her that you do not love her. she will need to be taught that affection comes in many forms, and does not exist solely in pleasure. it will be a hard concept for her to grasp, however, after a while, you may wake to her shifting closer to you in the bed, her hands gentle, warmer, as she wraps them around you in an embrace.

#slasher x reader #baby firefly #house of 1000 corpses #the devils rejects

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brenli · 5 years

Text

[28]

Tagged by: @goddamnitkastle (YAYAYAY ANOTHER ONE!)

1. how tall are you? 5′3″

2. what color and style is your hair? Dark brown. A couple of stray silver strands. When the light hits it right you can see natural auburn-y red highlights/tones in it, especially near the ends. I wear it long, down to my lower back, usually parted in the middle (sometimes on the left) and with bangs. Usually blunt-cut across my brows, but I'm not as good about trimming them as I ought to be so they usually end up growing out long enough that I need to brush them off to the right.

3. what color are your eyes? Brown

4. do you wear glasses? My cat-eye specs are basically part of my identity at this point.

5. do you wear braces? Nope

6. what is your fashion style? I have contempt for this question that likes of which you cannot believe. XD I guess in the most general sense it's rock-chic. Rock/metal girl elements mixed with glamorous or feminine elements/silhouettes. But this is MASSIVELY boiling down my massive wardrobe and I've certainly had moments of departure from the rock-chic umbrella depending on how I'm feeling. I dislike strictly adhering to specific style labels; I find it stifling.

7. full name? Brenda Lee Larson. My maiden name is cooler to be honest; I only changed it because I was more interested in sharing a surname with the Honey and I know I can still use my maiden name for other things.

8. when were you born? July 24, 1987

9. where are you from and where do you live now? Technically born in Coupeville on Whidbey Island, WA, USA and spent the first 4 years of my life bouncing around different naval stations because my family was about that Navy Life, but the majority of my formative years Spokane, WA, USA so my assumption is that would be more accurately where I'm "from." (Hawaii is where my heart wants to say I'm from though as that's where my earliest memories take place~) After some years spent CA (first in the Bay and then in LA), I'm currently living just south of Seattle, WA. So. Basically I've been wiggling around the West Coast my whole life, including going so far west I ditched the mainland for a spell.

10. what school do you go to? I WORK at a school currently, Cornish. Freelancing as a house manager for 3 of their 4 venues. The 4th one never seems to put on any events that require one of us from the house management roster, otherwise I'd work gigs at that one, too. XD

11. what kind of student are you? Some of you who make these questionnaires clearly cannot think beyond life-after-schooling and it shows. XD I was an above-average student for the vast majority of my years in schooling but I started falling off a little toward the end, largely because I was very keenly aware of what areas of study pertained to me and my interests/goals, and I had no patience for areas of study that did not. I left before it got too bad.

12. do you like school? I liked the parts of school that spoke to me~

13. what are your favorite school subjects? Literature/English was always the major go-to throughout all of my years of schooling. I was in Choir up until highschool; this was when Theatre became available to me and I wasn't able to participate in both, so I parted ways with Choir and focused on Theatre all the way up through my last years of schooling. Other subjects of interest, in highschool: Photography, Psychology, Forensic Science, World History. In college: Creative Writing, Journalism, Japanese.

14. favorite TV shows? The major ones have been racy period dramas The Tudors and The Borgias. I grew up on Star Trek TOS and as such it has a very dear place in my heart despite it not being a racy period drama. XD I also am quite invested in the Netflix MCU with Daredevil and The Punisher being my two favorite shows (Frank is my everything!). More currently I've been expanding my Sanada-san filmography-binge thanks in large part to @anagraves; I recently finished the 1993 Koukou Kyoushi and am through episode 10 of Konna Koi no Hanashi. What I've been learning from this - Hiroyuki Sanada knows how to break hearts whether he's being soft and vulnerable to cold and cruel and anything in between, but that's exactly why I love him.

INB4 "you post Snow White everything so why isn't OUAT on here" I do enjoy OUAT a lot, but I don't know if I would consider it a favorite show overall. I'm more fond of the earlier seasons than the later seasons and it's that ambivalent feeling I have for the later seasons that make the show not a favorite - but still very good overall.

It's also at this point that I should probably explain what my blog description does not - my blog started running a Snow White-themed queue LARGELY as part of an inspiration-drive for a Snow White AU project that I haven't actually touched in a long time. I REALLY should do something about that; I just keep getting pulled in other directions and now it's years on and here I am with what's basically a Snow White queueblog. XD If I can ever get my dumb head in gear and FINISH what I've started, that would honestly result in the queue being mass-posted and then probably altered to suit whatever the next project would be. That's always been the intention, anyway.

15. favorite movies? While I'm still feeling the chilly gaze of my Snow White queue, my favorite Snow White movie thus far is Mirror Mirror. I think it's massively underrated and that makes me sad.

As far as Disney is concerned, while I have a HUGE amount of respect for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, my favorite film growing up was Beauty and the Beast (and my Rococo-loving ass does adore the live action remake). Surprise??? XD More recently, Moana is the film of my heart; it's the closest Disney has gotten to making a Princess culturally-relevant to me as a half-Filipina so my tropical islander ass is just utterly enamoured with Moana. ((Listen Disney if you ever decide to make a super fun colorful precolonial Philippine film THE PERFECT PRINCESS EXISTS FOR THAT, I submit for your consideration - Urduja!)

Because of my rather open-door childhood with regard to media, my earliest favorite movies are actually Nightmare on Elm Street and Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors. Freddy is my Nightmare King Murder Boyfriend and I'm prepared to face judgement for that. XD

Fondness for Star Trek TOS has resulted in an affection for the AOS movies~

But a movie that speaks to me very much is What Dreams May Come.

Currently I've gotten re-ensnared into The Last Samurai, in correlation with the most recent AU project. Because I am hopeless, Grumpy Samurai is Best Samurai, and I've been spending time manically fretting and pretending that because Ujio drops before the gatling guns are brought out, maybe he SOMEHOW managed to survive in SOME way and he can have tons of cool battle scars. Right? ... RIGHT???

16. favorite books? If manga counts then it's Angel Sanctuary. Hands down. No contest. It's easily woven itself into my life in the form of fanfic that is/was well-received within the fandom, and a weirdly HUGE list of AUs that somehow burst out of nowhere. (Currently all of it, AU work included, can be read via my FF.Net account under brenli. I have a placeholder page on AO3 that's currently empty but may end up holding all my content there as well, in time. If I can ever make the time.)

I was and am really into Sue Harrison's Ivory Carver series, particularly My Sister the Moon.

It was part of my middle school/junior high reading curriculum but I honestly DID really like The Diving Bell by Todd Strasser. Even if the cover art of Culca coming up out of the ocean looked A LOT like me and resulted in my class calling me Culca for the entirety of our unit on that book. It's fine. Culca is a badass queen of pearls and seawater so I'm happy to be associated with her~!

Every now and then I remember a book that clearly really resonated with my as a child if I still remember it, but the problem is that I don't remember the title or the author, or even any of the characters' names. It was about a Roma girl who lived in the American south - I wanna say Tennesee? - who was discovered for her talent playing guitar and singing country music. The book essentially details her struggle between her traditional roots as a Roma person, including the arrangement for her to be married young, and her interest in pursuing music as a career but feeling alienated by an industry and a society at large that is wealthier than her and has a different culture from her own. The book ends with her running away but it isn't made clear what her ultimate fate is. To this DAY it bothers me that I don't remember the title or the author because I honestly go through periods where I want to reread it. And yes, this was the kind of stuff I was reading as a child. XD I also read My Sister the Moon for the first time when I was like. 11 years old. If you're familiar with the content of that book then you're aware that certain scenes are really not 11-year-old friendly, but. If I can watch gratuitous 80's slasher horror at age 4 then I can read about a young woman surviving sexual abuse at age 11.

17. favorite pastime? Writing at this rate, honestly. Which probably speaks more to my inner tortured artist than anything else. XD

18. do you have any regrets? I feel like everybody has at least one regret and anyone who says otherwise is either very very young, or lying. XD It's not about whether you have regrets, it's about not letting them hold you in the past.

19. dream job? Telling stories, in any and every way attainable to me.

20. would you like to get married someday? I already am~

21. would you like to have kids someday? Absolutely not. I don't feel like my life is conducive to childrearing, and INB4 "you're never truly ready" and "you make it work" the key factor here is I'm not WILLING to become ready and I'm not WILLING to make it work. That's how I know my life is not conducive to childrearing. XD (I'm at that age where tons of people are asking me this and feeding me words meant to encourage me to consider and it's honestly EXHAUSTING by this point. I can't wait for when I'm menopausal maybe people will finally shut up about it because I'll be past my prime~)

23. do you like shopping? I mean, yes, but I usually avoid it because I'm aware of how impulsive I am.

24. what countries have you visited? I'm tempted to say that Hawaii should count because it's so far away from the mainland. XD But honestly I've never been outside of US territory. It's in the plans to try for Japan during the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. I'm not sure if we'll make that goal but if not, I figure it won't hurt to continue saving up anyway and making a Tokyo trip post-Olympics. Prices will be cheaper post-Olympics, anyway, so~

25. what’s the scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? At the risk of raising weird red flags I've gone through periods where I'll have reoccurring nightmares about being actively pursued by someone who very obviously intends to do harm. It happens often enough that the Honey wonders if I'm mentally suppressing something. XD I did have a standalone dream though, where me and the Honey were asleep in bed and then I become aware that someone's broken into the house and is approaching our bed. I'm walking through every possible option in my head with my eyes shut; if the Honey and I both lunged at the attacker we could possibly overpower them just because it would be two against one. But I know that I can't possibly wake up the Honey and make him aware of the situation without the attacker immediately acting and resulting in at least one of us being injured or killed. I realize that I have no choice but to try and take the attacker by surprise by myself and hope that is enough. I make peace with that. I can feel the attacker leaning over me. I suddenly lunge at them in full primal adrenaline-filled rage.

I wake up.

26. do you have any enemies? I guess that I have a few, yes, but honestly at this point I've gotten probably a little too used to being vilified. Barring physical assault or turning the animosity on innocent third parties in my life, I am prepared to weather the metaphorical lashes.

27. do you have an s/o? I have my Honey~

28. do you believe in miracles? I believe in miracles that aren't the overt surface-level wish-fulfillment-from-above which I think most people expect a miracle to be. I think that sometimes luck plays out via a slim-to-none chance and that can be a miracle. I think that sometimes a person works very hard at something or for something and when they achieve it, that can be a miracle. I think that the butterfly effect is a double-edged sword, but sometimes that little flutter of a butterfly's wings is a miracle.

Tagging: @yacky-jackie @halorecoil @anagraves @benevolentqueenofstars @lesbomancy @candybunnieholic @lemonedscream @tinathefish

#questionaire

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cogentranting · 6 years

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You mention how the Matt and Foggy reconciliation is going on through The Defenders and how it may progress in Daredevil season 3. But what about Matt and Karen? What do you think needs to happen in that reconciliation area? She comes clean about Wesley? His feelings for Elektra get addressed? Something I'm missing?

I think communication between them needs to open up a lot. I feel like Matt has a freedom in the way he talks with Elektra and Claire that he doesn’t have with Karen. He’ll tell them about his beliefs/ideas, he’ll be blunt with them, he’ll argue with them. He doesn’t seem to feel like he can do that with Karen. A large part of that is that she didn’t know that he was Daredevil and its hard to discuss your vigilante politics when you’re pretending that you’re not a vigilante. So now that the cat’s out of the bag, I think Matt and Karen will naturally begin to mend some fences and grow closer because he has a little more freedom to talk with her about whatever. But that’s not the whole of the problem with their communication. I also think that Matt kind of sees Karen as…kind of pure? but not exactly. There’s some version of her in his head right now that he A. can’t argue with openly (so instead of having an outright discussion of what’s wrong, they dance around each other and end up blowing up) and B. he can’t show her the sides of him that aren’t as clean and good. So that aspect of things would be helped by knowing a little bit more about Karen’s views on things.

But the other big thing in their communication is actually that Karen’s a bit hypocritical when it comes to honesty (no hate, I love Karen. She’s just a complex character like the others). Because as much as she gets after Matt for not talking to her, she has kept secrets from Matt the entire time she’s known him. She’s never talked about whatever the big thing in her past is (I think it has to do with her brother?); she went to Foggy with her anxiousness about the city and not wanting to go home (the night they ‘drank the eel’) but never said anything about that to Matt; most of her investigating of Fisk with Ben was done behind Matt’s back; she never told anyone about shooting Westley; of course her relationship with Punisher was kept mostly a secret. Matt doesn’t tell Karen anything, but Karen somehow manages to tell Matt less. So first, I think Karen needs to see that she’s holding a lot back from Matt as well. It’s less about her needing to tell him the specifics of these things and more that she has to be willing to talk to Matt about something in her life.

The really interesting thing is that that side of Karen, is really what could potentially make her and Matt a great couple one day, even while now it’s contributing to keeping them apart. Because it’s the side of Karen that is a LOT like Matt. The side of them that goes to seek justice no matter what, often outside the law, often in ways that others don’t agree with. It’s the side that keeps secrets, sometimes because of good intentions, sometimes because they think others will try to stop them, sometimes because that’s just what they do. AND there are a lot of parallels between how Matt relates to Elektra and how Karen relates to Frank. I think Frank is Karen’s Elektra. The person they understand a little too well. Who they see the best in while others don’t. For Frank and Elektra respectively they are the one person in the world who brings out the softer side. And those relationships sprang up at roughly the same time. Matt and Karen are even really playing the same role to each other in this– the more moral, safer option, whose darker side the other doesn’t realize (in season 2) while they’re also each being drawn toward someone else who’s super violent but with a heart of… maybe not gold, but like bronze or something (full disclosure: I ship Karedevil, Kastle, and Mattelektra so.).

So in essence, everything that Matt was doing that drove him and Karen apart, I think Karen was doing to some degree as well. I think if Karen and Matt were really able to open up with each other (and again, the pressure is on BOTH of them) they’d be able to unlock this whole other side to their relationship that would really deepen what they have. How that openness will come about, I’m not sure. Will it naturally come with time now that Karen knows he’s Daredevil? Will there be a sense of mortality that pushes them together in the aftermath of Defenders? Will some secret of Karen’s have to come out (perhaps painfully) before the dam bursts? I don’t know.

The other big factor is, as you mentioned, Matt’s feelings for Elektra. But also I think Karen’s feelings for Frank. In season 2 they both effectively chose the other person, even without actually ending up with that person. So a lot depends on where they stand in regards to those people. Because if Karen still has an unspoken thing for Frank that she’s harboring, that’s gonna get in the way of her and Matt. If Matt is still gung-ho to live or die with Elektra that’s really gonna get in the way; this also really depends on whether or not Elektra is dead, which is a big question hanging in the air. Those things have to be addressed before they can move forward with anything romantic.

#daredevil #askbox #karedevil

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sophygurl · 6 years

Text

WisCon 42 panel MCU’s Black Superheroes

The full title of this panel was Show Me My Respect: A Critical Look At The MCU’s Black Superheroes

The panel description:

Has the MCU done its black characters justice over the last 10 years? Did Disney allow Ryan Coogler to give Black Panther the respect and nuance it deserves? Did the Russo Brothers f*ck up everything in Avengers: Infinity War that the black and NBPOC writers and directors established in building complex characters and storylines? Let's explore this decade-long journey into Phase IV to see how the MCU has and will continue to treat us.

The moderator was Jennifer Cross, with panelists Aunterria Bollinger and K. Tempest Bradford.

Reminder that these panel notes are only my own recollections and the things I managed to write down - my notes are incomplete and likely faulty in places. Corrections and additions are always welcome. Especially please do correct me if I get names or pronouns wrong!

Also I name panelists as that’s publicly available information but not audience members unless requested by that person to have their named added.

[I came into the panel a little bit late, so missed intros and probably some other stuff.]

Tempest was talking about the black best friend trope and that DCTV does this a lot. Rhodey is very underused, and Civil War turned him into the disabled black best friend.

Jennifer said Don Cheadle deserves better! Iron Man 2 gave complexity to Rhodey and Tony’s relationship and Civil War messed a lot of that up. It also made Rhodey disabled in a super questionable way [I missed some of this statement]. It was a literal cheap shot and felt like Joss Whedon saw him as an expendable character to use to elevate white man pain. Also the fact that Rhodey just automatically sides with Tony - what happened to the tension between them and Rhodey holding Tony accountable for his actions?

Jennifer made an aside to let the audience know that the panelists were going to be using a lot of code switching and AAVE references. She then went on to say “Fuck Infinity War - Russo brothers, take your white man pain to Ralph Lauren and buy some more polo shirts.” (lol)

Jennifer brought up that two black American men go to Wakanda for the first time and said nothing about it. Also they made Wakanda look “dank as shit.”

Tempest said the amount of Cumberbatch she had to stare at in Infinity War was too much - she skipped a whole movie to avoid him! (me too) One problem with IW was that there were just too many people in it, so they couldn’t properly focus on anyone.

Tempest added - why didn’t they just ask Shuri to fix things from the start? She was finally going to fix it, but she got interrupted by more man pain! Jennifer added that she loved the “you tried” moment with Shuri.

Aunterria talked about IW’s short shifting of Wakanda as if they were saying “well we gave you a whole movie - what else do you want?” But also how much worse it might have been if that had been the first introduction to Wakanda instead of coming out after Black Panther.

Jennifer brought up Winter Soldier and how Sam got to have a whole back story about his PTSD. In IW, we see him helping other people with their trauma but they never address how events are affecting him. She talked about how PTSD varies from person to person, and about how it can affect black people differently, especially.

Tempest brought up the gaybaiting of the series. Jennifer adds that she hates shipping, but she loves Sam and Bucky.

Tempest said that Sam has more back story than Rhodey in terms of story that isn’t tied to a main white character. She will also never forgive Tony for shooting him in the face in Civil War. Marvel tries with regards to race, but their attempts are inadequate.

She went on to talk about the character of M’Baku in Black Panther. She has a friend who was initially very upset about the inclusion of this character because in the comics the portrayal is very racist. Then he saw the movie and saw how great the character was. This is what happens when you give black people agency. Ryan Coogler had a lot of freedom in how he made BP.

Tempest added that white directors may try, but when trying to fix race in one area, they often make it racist in a whole other way. She brought up the Mandarin, for example. Why don’t you just ask an Asian person?

Jennifer said she wanted the panel to primarily focus on black people. The MCU fucks up all people of color, but the panel is specifically about black characters.

She added that she loved watching Rhodey kick Tony’s ass. When he said “you don’t deserve to wear this suit” - it was a calling out of his privilege. She also found it suspect that Rhodey didn’t notice Tony’s PTSD in Iron Man 3. He’s a veteran and a general and would be trained to look for those signs. She said “we’re 10% of the population in LA - find one of us and pay us to fix this stuff.” Especially important to find a black veteran officer to inform Rhodey and Sam’s characters. She no longer trusts white people to write black people.

Jennifer moved on to Valkyrie. She said she does love Thor because Chris Hemsworth. Also Taiki Watiti did surprisingly well. She loves Tessa Thompson.

Aunterria talked about her love for Danai Gurira as both Michonne in The Walking Dead and Okoye in the MCU. However, she still falls under the trope of the exceptional black woman giving it all up for a man.

Tempest countered that saying that Okoye fights for Wakanda over a man. She and T’Challa fight alongside one another and it’s clear that she would do the same for Shuri if she was queen. BP is not just about awesome black men, but black women too. There isn’t enough complexity in the other black characters in the MCU with the exceptions of Heimdall and Valkyrie. Asgard also had random Asian and black characters walking around that are never addressed or explained.

Jennifer loved Valkyrie drunkenly stepping off the ramp. Also the quietness of Heimdall’s character even when had more to do than just standing there. She talked about being a big Norse Scandanavian folklore nerd and said Asgard looks the way it’s supposed to look - it was actually diverse as shit. It took a man of color to finally make it look almost accurate representation-wise. She references the show The Almighty Johnsons as a show about Norse gods living in New Zealand.

Jennifer wonders if it’s going to take only poc behind the scenes to give us proper treatment. Way down in her soul is an optimist that “no amount of beating with Lucille can shut up” that wants to know if it can happen any other way.

Aunterria said she’s not optimistic about this. She can’t think of a poc character written by a white person that’s done anything meaningful or purposeful or accurate.

There is much collective groaning about Iron Fist.

Aunterria talked about making Luke Cage bulletproof but not talking about police violence. Giving black characters powers without engaging in the social issues around them.

Jennifer said she is mixed about Luke Cage. It’s the embodiment of respectability politics. But there is an effort to show Harlem and the gentrification of it. There’s this idea that poc don’t have any room to make mistakes. BP did so well that Kevin Feige is begging Coogler to come back.

Jennifer said that she loves the women in LC - especially Misty. There are lots of women who are all different people, all unapologetically black but in different ways. She’s watching it for the women. Praises Alfre Woodard.

Tempest uses headcanons to make movies better.

Jennifer addressed how Tessa Thompson was the one out of the women in the MCU cast to ask Kevin Feige about them wanting their own movie. Why did the black woman have to be the one to ask for what all these white women have been wanting? Why couldn’t ScarJo take her white appropriating ass up there and ask about it?

Tempest talked about the TV part of the MCU technically being in the same universe. TV shows have to include the big events of the movies but not the other way around. She said she stopped watching Shield when Daisy’s transformation killed the black male character (Trip) for one episode of white pain. Jennifer also stopped watching it in season one.

Aunterria is still watching Shield. She wondered if Trip had been killed because of the possibility of his entering into an interracial relationship. She said there is a new black male character (Mack), but his arc is all about suffering. Last season had a storyline about aliens enslaving white people, which was interesting. But the people of color come to save the white people. Jennifer interjects “Killmonger wasn’t wrong...”

Tempest adds “Joss is the most fuckassed fuckass to ever fuckass.” Jennifer asks what about Stephen Moffat? Tempest said - he’s second.

Aunterria said Shield did make the black man the team leader at the end of this season. Jennifer said - so he has to suffer for his reward now and his reward is to parent a group of white people? That’s even more fucked up!

Tempest said that BP gave her hope. Jennifer said - see, she’s not the only one with optimism. Tempest said that Coogler has some power right now - maybe he can bring in some friends and fix some more stuff.

Aunterria said that being a black writer right now is also hard because there is so much to fix. There is so much shit to work on before you can even focus on your craft - so it’s more work for them.

Tempest said her hopes are with the movies over the TV shows.

Jennifer said - “especially fuck babyvampJessica” (Karen from Daredevil). It’s like the paler you are, the more people will die for you.

Tempest said - as far as cleaning up, BP didn’t have to do that work because they were starting from scratch. There must be other characters that can be brought into the MCU movies that can be written by black writers.

Aunterria said those do exist, but the funding isn’t there. Tempest - but Gods of Egypt somehow got funding!

An audience member asked about Heimdall and if he would come back. Jennifer said that Idris Elba has said no on that.

Tempest talked about actors being semi-responsible to the narrative of their characters. RDJ even saying - maybe it’s time for me to go? Jennifer added - and then they throw more millions at him and I can’t be mad about that. Tempest said that we know all those people who were turned to dust are coming back. It was a bold decision to kill some of them - but we need to sunset one story in order to have a sunrise on another. Also - “fuck Thanos.”

Tempest said that something that ruins a narrative almost as much as white supremacy is the irresponsible choices of actors going on and on - except for all of the cast of BP - they can stay as long as they want.

Jennifer said that with Disney owning Marvel, Deadpool is now officially a Disney Princess (lol).

Tempest said she sat through all of Wolverine Origins just to see Hugh Jackman naked and she is done with Deadpool now.

An audience member asked about the character Cottonmouth on LC. Jennifer talked about him as a complex character bridging socio-economic status’s. She added that if you put trauma in a black character’s history, you need to do it in a way that is not just for show. She said the opposite of the example would be Zoe Walsh.

A member of the audience asked about Lash’s purpose on Shield. Aunterria said he filled in May’s backstory and explains things to us about her that we weren’t getting just from her side. But he was mostly there for gratuitous pain and suffering of a black man and Asian woman.

Jennifer said the MCU is allergic to black love. “Tweet that.” She wants to see a black male character saving a black female character - not just everyone else.

An audience member asked about Miles Morales. Jennifer said - we’ve had four Peter Parkers in fifteen years! Tempest said Tom Holland is at least finally a good one. Kevin Feige has said there is space for Miles, but she wonders who is going to write him?

Jennifer closed the panel with a firm statement for the white members of the audience, especially. She said - you will take everything good from our culture and appropriate it, but not our pain. You’ve taken our stuff for fun value and for show, but you don’t address our pain.

This panel was also livetweeted pretty extensively with #blackmcu if you want more/other perspectives from it.

[For context, I’m white.]

#wiscon #wiscon 42 #mcu's black superheroes #black mcu #mcu #black superheroes

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biavenger · 7 years

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In These Walls;

Summary: Y/N recovers after a short stint in the hospital, and is not happy to see that her vigilante ex-boyfriend has made himself at home again in their formerly shared apartment.

A/N: Like, two people asked for a sequel to “Where Your Ghost Lives” so HERE IT IS!! (and read part 1 here [x] if you haven’t already)

The cold, calculating laugh echoed throughout the freezing concrete room as the confrontation continued over her. She could still feel the blood dripping down her nose as she tried to sit up, and right as she almost did, a foot came down to stop out her will to fight when-

BAM!

Y/N jerked awake, a light sheen of sweat ghosting her skin and causing her hospital gown to cling to her. It was almost uncomfortable how cold she was- chilled to the bone, in fact- but the sweat trailing down her face, neck, and body didn’t seem to care. The nurse told her the fever would subside after about one day, and that it was just a result of her body trying to mend her broken ribs. “It’s all normal,” Y/N remembers the nice nurse saying as she pulled the cheap hospital blanket up over Y/N’s shoulders. Right. Normal.

Y/N figured nothing would ever be normal again, not after what had happened to her. A few police officers had tried to take her statement, but Y/N was still in so much shock that she could hardly respond; the nurse she liked, Claire, forced them out of her room so she could continue to rest and process what happened.

Daredevil was her boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, technically, but either way, she had still seen the vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen naked, and that was extremely difficult for her to wrap her head around. Matt’s life always seemed so vanilla on the surface; he would go to work, do some lawyer stuff, and come home to hang out with her, or go out for guy time with Foggy. It must have been a mistake; when did Matt even have time for vigilantism?

Oh, well. It wasn’t Y/N’s problem anymore. Despite the fact that Matt had technically saved her, she still refused to budge on her position regarding their breakup. Clearly, being with him would only endanger her further, so it must have been the right choice.

She missed him, though, and seeing him (even if he was wearing a stupid costume and almost getting her killed) made her heart long to even just hold his hand.

She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it. It must have been the morphine they were giving her to dull the pain and give her a chance to sleep. None of her injuries were especially serious, but the doctors decided they did want to monitor her concussion overnight.

“You can go home in the morning, promise,” the nurse, Claire, promised her while checking her vitals for what must have been the millionth time, “I’ll be here myself to guarantee it.”

With that slight reassurance, Y/N felt safe enough to drift off to an uncomfortable and tentative sleep. The hospital security guard that was stationed right outside her room did little to ease her nerves; in fact, it made them worse. Did they think this guy would come back to get her? Was she still in danger?

Walking up four flights of stairs is difficult with a broken rib and concussion, but with the elevator in her building having work done on it, there was no other choice. Luckily, Y/N didn’t really have any belongings to carry with her, just the small bag packed with all the medications she would need to take and numbers she would need to call if she had any questions or needed any help.

The door had clearly hastily been repaired, because the paint was too bright and optimistic and new compared to how it had been before. It felt like a lash on her heart to look at it, another reminder that she was never truly safe, not even in her own home. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door slowly, shuffling inside one step at a time.

It was eerily quiet in the apartment, which both reassured and worried her. She closed the door behind her quickly, as though there were a ghost waiting to jump out at her whenever her back was turned, and just as quickly locked the door so no one could get back inside.

Turning around, Y/N immediately noticed that the boxes she had packed for Matt were gone. The entrance to her apartment was completely free of any cardboard box hazards. Y/N initially considered that the landlord might have hired a cleaning company to come fix up the apartment and they thought that stuff was hers. But when she saw the pair of shoes and white cane that signaled Matt’s presence, she immediately knew that he had re-invited himself to move in with her.

She was immobilized, feet frozen to the floor. The thought of facing Matt was terrifying to her, considering he had now seen her at her weakest state: tied up, bloody, and under the control of someone else. But even worse, the white hot anger she felt blurred her vision and erased her ability to think rationally.

When she finally regained the ability to move, Y/N walked quickly around the apartment. He wasn’t waiting for her in the living room or the kitchen, which meant he was probably still asleep. Perfect.

Taking a cup of ice water fresh from the tap, she tip-toed up to the side of the bed where his curly brown bedhead peaked through the covers he had tucked around himself. Pulling the down comforter back, because it was a pain in the ass to dry, she dumped the glass on him, feeling quite satisfied as he gasped and shot straight up.

“What the fuck are you doing in MY apartment?” Y/N cussed, although it was significantly less intimidating considering how hoarse her voice was from screaming and crying.

“Our apartment,” Matt corrected, visibly softening when he realized who had given him such a rude awakening, “Claire said you weren’t getting released until tomorrow, why didn’t you say anything? I would have come to pick you up.”

Y/N noted to herself that she might have to send Claire an Edible Arrangement for at least trying to thwart’s obnoxious attempts to get back together with her.

“I didn’t say anything because I’m not your responsibility to pick up, asshole,” Y/N sneered as viciously as she could, “Also, I’m not packing your boxes again this time. You can do it yourself, since you don’t have a broken rib or concussion.”

“You know how sorry I am for that happening to you, Y/N,” Matt’s voice was almost a whisper as he apologized. Slowly, he took one of Y/N’s hands in both of his own. Surprisingly enough for the both of them, she didn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to be pulled into a sitting position next to him on the slightly damp bed.

“You were never meant to be involved-ever,” Matt started to explain, and once he figured Y/N didn’t plan on interrupting him, he continued, “I was never going to even tell you I was living this double life as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I was just going to try my best to hide it from you. I’m so sorry I didn’t see how much it was hurting you then, all those missed dates and missed phone calls. I never meant to hurt you. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Y/N had begun to cry a little bit, but she tried to swallow the burn of the tears that were building up inside of her. Matt didn’t deserve to see her weakness anymore after how he had hurt her.

“Why should I?” Y/N managed to get out, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek. She reached up with her free hand to wipe it out of the way before it dripped onto their clasped hands, which would then indicate to Matt that she was crying.

They sat in silence for a moment as Matt assembled an answer in his head.

“Because I love you, Y/N, and you love me, too. And I’m a human being and I made a mistake, but I don’t want that mistake to cost me the best thing that ever happened to me. I never wanted to hurt you, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making up everything to you...if you just give me the chance, Y/N,” Matt rambled on, his voice getting quiet as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on her temple and adding, “I miss you everyday.”

At that point, Y/N’s fragile frame wracked with sobs. The emotional pain she was feeling hurt her so badly that she couldn’t even feel the searing in her side as she shook with tears. Matt knew she was crying by now, he could feel it, so he took one of his hands and cupped it on the side of her face, encouraging her to turn to face him.

“I love you, I’ll make this okay again,” Matt promised earnestly, “And I will never let anyone touch you again.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #imagine #imagines

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riverdalefiction · 7 years

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Don’t Let It Take Over

Summary: When Jughead is five, he decides to be a superhero. When he’s seventeen, he falls in love with one.

Rating: T

Genre: General, AU, Angst

Pairing: Archie x Jughead

Timeline: AU

Word count: 3,993

It begins when Forsythe is five, sitting on his bed with a Daredevil comic on his lap. Mom is gone, sister too, and Dad is drunk, wearing a Serpent jacket. The only person Forsythe has is Betty Cooper, but even she can’t make up for the family he’s missing.

You know you’re just one bad day away from being me, said the Punisher to Daredevil, and Forsythe could see Dad saying it to him.

He decides—swears—he is never going to become like his father.

It takes him nearly a week to ask his friend to go jogging with him. He knows sometimes she’d jog with her mom, and figures that’s why she’s so eager to accept. The first few times drain him, but he keeps pushing forward because that’s what Matt Murdock would do.

They sit on a bridge one day, taking a ten-minute break between jogs. Betty’s hair is pulled into a ponytail—she’s been wearing it since they began jogging almost two years ago, and now wears it all the time—and her legs are swinging above a river.

“Betty,” he says, “I want to start boxing.”

She looks at him and smiles, just like any other seven year-old would. “Me too! Let’s do it together, right, Four?”

And they do. It takes them nearly a year to get the hang of it at one of her father’s friends’ boxing classes, but once they do, they practice whenever they can. Betty’s mom teaches her defense tactics and she teaches them to Forsythe, because they agreed they’d max their abilities to defend themselves.

By the time they’ve turned nine, they’re one of the best in their boxing class and at school. The two devils, as they are often referred to, push to their limits to be intellectually and physically above their age. They train harder than anyone else, practice when they aren’t studying and studying when they can’t practice. They can throw a punch, land a punch, and recite Newton’s laws in regards of boxing.

There is no one like them.

Forsythe is ten, and he should’ve known things have been too perfect; too smooth. When his dad gets beaten up by a rival gang, they place him in a foster home, away from Betty. He cries and cries and begs to get back to Dad, but they don’t let him.

That is the first time when he broke his knuckles, allowing anger to collide his fist with the wall.

He is forbidden from eating that night.

Betty visits him a lot, but they can’t practice anymore. He misses it – his fingers itch and his muscles haven’t felt strain in all too long; he feels himself growing weak.

At only ten, Forsythe is older than any of the adults.

One time she comes to see him, he’s just been locked up for entering a fight with one of the older boys. She sits on his bed as he practices boxing in the air, helping him as much as she can. But she, too, hasn’t trained in so long because without him, it isn’t the same. She’s now wearing pastel dresses and her ponytail has gotten a little bow in it, and she lost some of the spirit she’d shown him.

“I miss you,” she tells him.

Forsythe stops punching and looks at her, angry. “I didn’t want to change schools, Betty. I didn’t want Dad to end up in the ER and I didn’t want to have to take care of him. I didn’t want to end up in this stupid place, I didn’t want a lot of things that happened. And you’re trying to make me feel guilty for missing me?”

She blinks twice, fast, but he hardly notices. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, that’s what it sounded like.” His glare intensifies and his eyes—Betty has never seen his eyes this blue—pierce right through her thoughts. “I don’t want to see you again.”

Forsythe loses his only friend that day, because Betty leaves without a word and never comes back.

A lot of things have changed for him by the time he turns thirteen. A lot of the things he wished for that day when he decided to never become like his father are now erased from his memory, and he finds himself more often than not being the punisher, and not the hero.

He’s no Daredevil. He’s no longer one bad day away from being what he swore not to be.

There’s something to him, the wicked smirk or the lean figure that makes boys at the orphanage afraid of him. He’s got Reggie Mantle on his right and Chuck Clayton on his left, ending injustice and giving the boys their punishments on a rawer way than anyone else.

They call him Havoc, but he calls himself Jughead.

Jughead, as he’s reinvented himself, has a way of getting things. At first it’s accidental, rage and fury boiling inside him for months of restrained emotions, and he thinks people pity him. But he tried it on Betty that one time, without thinking about it, and it proved permanent.

So now, he has an impermeable tactic. Look at them, focus everything on them, and say it. It hasn’t failed him once, and he’s only been mastering it.

In and out of foster homes because of his problematic behavior, he’s more alone than ever. He’s thirteen when he joins the Andrews household, and he’s fourteen and he’s still there.

He remembers Mr. Andrews—Fred—picking him up one rainy morning, grin on his face. “Hey, kid. Ready to go home?”

Jughead doesn’t say anything, because it’s not going home for him. Home and house are two terms he sees very distinctively, and ever since Betty left him alone, he’s not quite sure where his home is.

When they finally reach the one-story house, it’s the first time he sees Archie Andrews. He’s red, all freckles and scrawny limbs, and he’s smiling at his foster brother wider than any kid Jughead’s ever seen. There’s something in his eyes, so soft and genuine that he thinks of Betty.

Archie approached him and pulled him into a hug. “Hey, Forsythe! I’m Archie. I’m going to show you to your room and Dad’s going to get your stuff, all right?”

“It’s Jughead, not Forsythe,” the dark haired boy mutters.

“All right.”

They walk up to the attic, which has been turned into two rooms – one for Archie, one for Jughead. They’re mirror images of one another, and Jughead doesn’t know how to feel about this. He and Archie couldn’t be more different, yet the vibe he’s getting from both Andrews men is different than any other he’s felt, and Jughead Jones knows his vibes.

So, he stays. He’s a troublemaker and Fred often yells at him, but he never calls it quits, and Jughead never makes him do anything. When things get bad, or Jughead’s dad comes to visit (“I’ve been trying to get you back, son, but they wouldn’t let me. I’m so sorry.”), Archie brings gloves into his room and they box until Jughead feels better.

He’s even taught Archie everything Betty and he used to do, and the boy goes from zero to hero in two years.

It’s when they start high school that Jughead finds out the truth about the Andrews men. Truthfully, he’s noticed Archie’s ‘glitches’ from time to time and Fred’s swiftness with everything he does.

Fred sits them down in Jughead’s room, and the look on his face is the one Jughead’s previous foster parents had when they were about to quit him. This is the first time he’s dreading the news, but he’s prepared for it.

He tells him the story of how he came to know himself, and the story of his father, and his father before him. The something supernatural runs in the Andrews genes, but Fred is the first generation who’s actively using it.

He’s the mystery man who’s caught some pretty dreadful murderers and rapists in the Riverdale area. One of them was the man who ruined Jughead’s life by nearly killing his father, and Fred tells him he got what he deserved.

Jughead doesn’t say his idea of his punishment is more severe than a pair of handcuffs and a cell for life.

Then he tells them—tells Jughead, because Archie’s known about this for his whole life—that he’s more precise than normal humans. He’s more instinctive, feeling what’s going to happen a moment before it does. And Archie – Archie creates illusions, sometimes accidentally when he’s overly emotional, and deliberately strong enough to fool someone.

He doesn’t ask how he fits in the picture, because a part of him has always known.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” he tells them. Archie shifts and sits straight, and Jughead has a feeling he hasn’t been told this before. “I’m going to help you get through life. You need to learn to control yourselves. If you want to never use it again, that’s up to you – but you need to be aware of it to the maximum.”

There are things left unsaid and that leaves a bigger impact on Jughead than anything Fred’s actually said. He thinks of the orphanage and the boys there, and Betty, and Mom and Jellybean, and thinks of the Punisher and thinks of Matt Murdock and wonders if he’s already crossed the line.

He knows Fred’s talking about him.

Later that day, Archie sleeps in his room. It’s taking Jughead some time to process what he’s learned, but he’s taking it in quite easily. It’s Archie who’s worried.

“Are you okay?”

Jughead turns on the floor, facing his foster brother. He’s still all freckles and red hair and toothy smiles, but he’s grown quite a lot since Jughead came and is now almost as tall as him. But the glint in his eyes, it’s never vanished – the good that left Jughead’s when he was ten.

“Is he training us to be heroes?” he asks, quietly.

Archie smiles at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yeah,” Jughead says. Then he turns on his back because he can’t look at Archie anymore.

They’re foster brothers and in the two and half years they’ve spent together, Jughead hasn’t allowed himself to become friends with the boy. Archie constantly tries, makes sure Jughead knows he’s a part of the family and doesn’t seem fazed that the boy doesn’t reciprocate.

Desperately, he wants to be a hero. But he remembers punching boys who hurt someone else, making them cry and bleed and then using his persuasion to get out of the situation; he remembers punching Archie because he wanted to hurt him for being so good, and Archie asking him to teach him how to punch.

Archie was Daredevil; Jughead was the Punisher.

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Archie somehow senses his thoughts.

“You’re not Havoc anymore.”

Is he? He doesn’t know, and thinks he is and always will be, but doesn’t voice it. Instead, as they survive through the freshman year of high school, and Archie’s falling in-and-out with the resident rich girl Veronica Lodge.

Their hero aliases are a constant game they’re playing whenever Fred’s training them, or when Jughead’s helping Archie in school because he’s finally back to being who he used to before losing the last of his family. Archie’s most often the Bandit, because he’s always wanted to be in a band, and Jughead’s the Demonizer because he thinks heroes should have scary names.

Sometimes, he’s Havoc again, when he’s training with Archie and loses his cool, or attacks a boy at school for bullying someone. He’s not in favor of anyone, and when Reggie Mantle joins their class in sophomore year, he feels like a part of him is lingering onto the thought it’s better to punish than prevent.

Fred sits him down one time Archie’s out with Veronica, arms crossed on his chest.

“I’m not your father,” Fred tells him, “and your father looks after you. I’m not trying to steal you away from him. But I’m your mentor and that’s worse than being your father, because if you don’t listen to me, no one who’ll take you in will know how to deal with what you can do. I am your mentor. Archie is your partner. You are here to learn how to deal with yourself, don’t ever forget that.”

He knows what Fred means, and he respects it. He doesn’t wreak havoc any longer, tries to control himself, and sees Fred as his mentor and Archie as his partner. He thinks that’s okay, and thinks he prefers to think of Archie as his partner to his brother.

He thinks of a lot of things when Archie and Veronica break up for good in the second semester that year. He’s happy, because Veronica always dragged Archie into social things Jughead knew he did only for her; because Veronica saw him as an arm candy, when Jughead saw him as the bright star in his life.

The following weeks are spent by intense practices, extreme routines both of them focusing their teenage angst into what they aim to become. Jughead still hasn’t told any of the Andrews men that he’s not like them, he’s not going to save the world, and still lives in the illusion he’s created.

They’re sixteen when Dad comes back. FP is freshly shaved, wearing jeans and a tee, smiling like cinnamon or something freshly cooked. He’s all smiles when he calls Jughead come, giving him the approval of the orphanage.

Jughead wishes he could say he thought twice about it. His bags are packed by the next hour, and by the time Archie comes from a date with some Valerie and Fred from work, he’s gone.

Archie visits him two weeks later. All Jughead can think when he sees him at the doorway is that he hasn’t looked this bad even when Veronica dumped him.

“Jughead.” Forsythe, he thinks, he’s Forsythe again. “You left.”

It’s raining outside, so Jughead calls him in. They’re in a small apartment Dad rented, and his room is half what it was at the Andrews’s. The boys sit on the bed, looking at each other, but not talking.

“I miss you.”

No one’s said these words to him since Betty. This time, he doesn’t lash out.

“I’m not like you,” he says quietly. “I’m not a hero.”

“Neither am I, Juggie.” Archie stares at him and the glint in his eyes Jughead’s fallen—no—the glint is replaced by so much sadness it sits heavily with him. “We’re just kids. But we can be heroes if we want to. We can change the world. Just because you did some stupid shit when you were twelve doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

“I am the Punisher, you are Daredevil,” Jughead tells him. Archie doesn’t get the reference. “I’m bloodthirsty. I don’t want to save people, I want to make others pay. That’s the difference between us.”

“There’s no difference between us.”

Jughead feels the need to do two things.

Thing one: point out that the difference between them is obvious to the pain. He’s golden sunlight and bright smiles and Jughead’s after dawn and impending chaos. The difference between them is an ocean, a reality – not the freckles Archie’s used to hiding with an illusion, or the fact that Jughead right now knows that this is the first time Archie’s bared himself in front of him.

He can see it. He could count every freckle if he wished, and Archie’s hair is more orange than yellow and tousled like it has never met a brush. His eyes are darker, and the scar between his eyebrows is new to Jughead; but he’s raw, he’s scared and Jughead can’t bring himself to point it out.

With Jughead, almost everything’s always been on his shoulder.

Thing two: the one thing that hasn’t is the need to press his mouth on every freckle on the boy’s face. To make him love his scar the way Jughead’s used to, seeing it when the boy was asleep; to kiss away the pain of them being so apart, so different.

“Archie, tell your dad I’m sorry.” He looks at the boy, focuses and feels his heart rip apart. “And don’t look for me.”

Archie leaves without a word, just like Betty did all those years ago. And Jughead—lonely, poor, sad Jughead—sits on his bed and watches him through the window.

He was never meant to be a hero.

Only days later, Fred arrives, pulling him into a hug and looking for FP. They argue for what feels like hours and Jughead has the need to look for Archie, but knows better. When it’s over, the two men sit him down on his bed and tell him everything, and Jughead realizes maybe his story isn’t over yet. Maybe he can still be a hero.

Dad and Fred’s story goes, they used to work together for a while until Jughead turned three and Mom and Jellybean left, and FP got tangled in with the Serpents. The construction site’s been in the Andrews family for over a century, and the abilities can be traced back to the first generation born on the site.

How do FP and Jughead fit into that? The site’s meddled with FP’s genome, but only affected the first generation born with it. Thing is, FP’s always known Jughead’s special. And Fred’s always known whose kid Jughead is.

And FP? He wants Fred to continue training Jughead. To make a man out of himself, unlike FP.

Go be a hero. Make your old man proud.

Jughead’s training becomes more efficient and he becomes more focused with Archie. They’re still arguing a little, their friendship strained and Jughead’s now switched schools, but he’s happier than ever.

Sometimes, when the nights are dark and lots of stars are visible and he and Archie are at Sweetwater practicing, he’d think about kissing him. About holding him when he’s sad and apologizing a million times for making him go away then begging him to stay. He’d beg him to stay, if he could, but Archie’s become distant. He doesn’t look for him anymore.

Jughead’s getting stronger.

It’s not until somebody slaughters Jason Blossom that they finally start doing something. They’re seventeen and trying to find a murderer is much harder when Archie’s all about preventing another, while Jughead’s all about making someone pay.

The next time he uses his powers on Archie is when a boy most often called Moose, from Archie’s school, is another victim. Archie’s distressed and all but crying, punching his heart out on the punching bag.

“Look at me.”

Archie looks at him.

“Remember when I told you not to go look for me?”

Archie nods. Jughead takes a step toward him.

“I take it back.” His voice is merely a whisper, and Archie is losing his focus and is here and there at the same time. Jughead wonders if the static between them is one-sided. “If I do something stupid, look for me. Find me. Don’t let me lose myself, don’t let me become Havoc again. I can feel it brewing in me and I’m scared it’ll take over.”

He doesn’t say don’t let it take over but Archie understand, and nods.

And the next thing he knows, Jughead’s kissing him. The next thing he knows, he’s kissing the freckles and the scars between Archie’s brows and the redhead feels more here than ever before.

They fall asleep exhausted that night, tears on their cheeks kissed away by the other’s lips. They’re gentle and they’re soft and they’re nearly two decades sewn of misery mended by a night of stolen touches.

It doesn’t feel like Jughead expected it to. It doesn’t feel like the falling stars, or nights they spent working out, or the time Archie told him he isn’t Havoc anymore, or Bandit and Demonizer. It feels like applying a bandaid, alcohol to broken wound, and all the times he’d punch and practice until he’d no longer remember what made him angry in the first place.

Archie kisses him in the morning, says “I miss you.”

Jughead doesn’t want to get up. He looks into Archie’s eyes and sees the glint in them, and feels something he hasn’t felt since before everything broke down. “If something happens to me, I want you to not do anything stupid.”

“Stupid?” Archie asks with a smile, going in for another kiss.

“Anything I’d do,” Jughead says. “And if something happens to you, I’m going to forget everything I’ve ever learnt about control and burn the world until the guilty is dead.”

He doesn’t say ‘I love you’—neither of them does—but the way Archie kisses him like there’s no tomorrow, he takes it.

They don’t make any promises that day, or when it’s Kevin Keller’s body they find couple days later, or when they barely save Betty Cooper from Hal Blossom. It’s tough and Jughead breaks down when she falls into coma, tells Archie everything, and hasn’t felt more fragile in all his life. He watches Betty’s fade away, and he feels guilty – she was alone in this, alone in finding the killer and she did, he knows she would, but it cost her everything.

He stays with her, day and night, and tells her to wake up. Archie’s by his side, holding his hand and when she wakes up, he gets everything off his chest.

She doesn’t resent him.

Months later, the three of them graduate each from their high school and train together until they think they’re ready for the FBI. They train through studying criminology, Jughead and Betty, or psychology, Archie. They get an apartment together before they enroll into Quantico, and one after they graduate.

They’re FBI now, a special, elite order for people like them, and people like Betty. Jughead’s happier than ever, falling asleep next to a bundle of red on the other side of the bed, and waking up to at least one limb sprawled over him.

And they’re superheroes, saving the world from psychopaths and maniacs. They’re lovers, they’re husbands, they’re friends and fathers, they’re godfathers and uncles, saving the day for the world and for their nieces.

They’re Forsythe Jones and Archibald Andrews at work, and they’re the Bandit and the Demonizer when it’s time to save the world.

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neoduskcomics · 7 years

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Iron Fist Review (SPOILERS)

Generally speaking, I only like to review shows, movies, or games that I like, because my enjoyment of those things compels me to dissect, understand, and share what I believe led me, and usually other people, to enjoy them.

This review is an exception to that. I did not like Iron Fist. I thought it was bad. And I, in fact, thought it was such an underwhelming and at times frustrating show that I felt the need to articulate why I think I and so many other people were deeply dissatisfied with it.

As a preemptive to this review, I will be giving full spoilers. If you still want to watch the show, don’t read on. I also am writing this acknowledging that I am of Asian American descent, but will not in any way be allowing that or the choices of the script with regard to its portrayal of Asian culture or possible appropriation thereof to influence my review of this show. I’ve also never read a single Iron Fist comic in my life, so please don’t tell me that if you segregate the show from the comic, it works. The review will be based solely on what I view to be the merits of its scripting and storytelling alone.

Also, this is going to be long. Just a heads up. I’m going to be rambling a lot, because that’s how I write. I’m sure about two of you will actually read all of this, but this is just catharsis for me so that’s fine.

That being said: on with the review.

I’m going to start with what I think is the most damning flaw of this program, or at least the thing that frustrated me the most and it’s the protagonist, Danny Rand. Danny is not a good main character, and here’s why. The show opens up with him returning after being presumably dead for fifteen years. He immediately expects that he can just waltz into his family’s company, meet with the man in charge, and immediately reclaim everything that he had left behind.

This could’ve just been an affectation of the character. Maybe he’s just dumb and quirky like that, as a contrast to the other Marvel heroes. But it’s not just that. It’s an indication of a pattern that permeates the rest of Danny’s character arc. He repeatedly makes stupid decisions, does not seriously acknowledge or assume his responsibilities, and allows his emotions and poor judgment to lead things awry.

The first two episodes of the show are painful, not simply because it’s slow, but because so much of what goes on is a result of Danny just being incompetent and rash. He forces his way into Rand, makes very threatening and disconcerting gestures throughout his interactions with his “friends” (whether it’s your intention or not, breaking into people’s homes, holding them at gunpoint, stalking them, spewing unbelievable nonsense at them and almost killing them does not help your sanity case or your trust case). It is drama perpetuated by poor character writing, which is some of the worst kind. When Danny’s put into the psyche ward and the Doctor finally believes that he is who he says he is, he follows up by saying the most inane crap that no one in their right mind would believe, thus ensuring his further captivity there. WHO. WROTE. THIS.

Danny continues to get in over his head throughout the show, taking on opponents or threats he can’t beat, setting himself up for idiotic, black and white moral dilemmas, and basically putting everyone near him in danger because he’s incapable of assessing his situation thoroughly, seeing from other people’s perspectives, and resolving any issues by punching first and asking questions later.

Danny constantly allows his emotions and first instincts to rule his judgments, and while it may all work out in the end, it causes a lot of unneeded strife and regret in his life. How many times did you count him royally fucking up and then saying “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry” Tenth Doctor style throughout the show? Even two is too, too many. Not when you want to craft a character for me to believe in, sympathize with, and stand behind. There’s a scene in the eighth episode where he’s telling Claire and Colleen that he plans to go to China, and they’re like “are you sure you know what you’re doing?” And what’s his response? “WHAT, DON’T YOU TRUST ME?” And they’re like, of course.

WHY.

Danny has done nothing but fuck up, be a hypocrite, and be totally irresponsible since you met him. He actively screws up reuniting with his friends, getting out of the psyche ward, proving his identity, getting his company back, getting evidence of Gao’s drug operation, interrogating Gao, keeping his friends safe, rescuing hostages, not just blindly following whatever anyone tells him to do, and he even screws up at summoning the iron fist—the one thing he’s supposedly good for. None of those things would’ve worked out had some outside force made it so for him.

Other Marvel Netflix protagonists screwed up, but they proved their competence in different ways. Daredevil was still a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom as well as in a fight. Jessica Jones was a stellar deceiver and investigator, as well as brawler. Luke Cage knew how to gain the trust and support of the people, and how to stick to his guns.

Iron Fist sometimes knew how to do some things but usually he would screw it up and someone would have to bail him out. And you can argue to me that this is just part of his character. He’s emotional and rash but that’s what he struggles with and it’s how he develops. But, I’m sorry, it goes too far. It makes the writing seem almost insulting of the audience’s intelligence that it seems to think we’re meant to buy into this drama caused by and frequently followed up with Danny’s idiocy. And the major lack of redeeming actions and qualities just make him unlikable (to me).

But it’s not just that Danny is a screw up. He also is irresponsible. He becomes the majority shareholder of Rand and seems to have some genuine interest in the welfare and integrity of the company, but he does JACK SHIT. All he does is attend one meeting, tell them “No, don’t do that. Do this” and then he walks away. And then he pulls the same thing later with the chemical plant. Does he do this with good intentions, and does it show that he has moral fiber? Yes, sure, and that’s good. But he doesn’t deal with any of the consequences. He basically holds people to a level of responsibility that he does not hold himself to. He tells people to do things a certain way because it’s what he believes is right, but then he expects them to deal with the ramifications that come with such stark decision-making, because he’s too busy chasing down evil Kung Fu ninjas. And yet he’s constantly talking about how disciplined and morally fibrous he is and tries to give people advice about values and family and blah blah blah SHUT UP YOU HYPOCRITE.

Danny has this frustrating tendency to expect things to go a certain way, do things he wants to do, and then not take responsibility for any of it. Got the Iron Fist? Shirk your responsibilities and run away. Got friends? Fuck them, run off and do superhero shit. There’s a company? Fuck the people who built and maintained it, it’s YOUR company. Now bitch until you get it and then don’t actually spend any effort in running it.

And, okay, that could work if it became an integral facet of the plot that his inability to cope with being both the Iron Fist and an eminent figure at his company created conflict and drama and led to story and character development. But it doesn’t. Danny basically never deals with any of the consequences of his total shirking of responsibility at Rand, just like he scarcely deals with the consequences of any of his other terrible decisions and rash behavior. Because eventually everything just happens to work out for him as a convenience of the plot or a side effect of his vigilantism. It’s. Not. Good. Writing.

And perhaps I could have forgiven all of this—all of it—if I just felt like I had a firm grasp of Danny as a fleshed out, likable character. But I feel like I never got that opportunity. Either Danny is always going into a fit of rage or he’s ashamed of his own inability to live up to the person that he believed himself to be. We get so little of anything else out of him. There are a couple scenes in the first and seventh episodes where we are allowed to observe the quirkier and funnier sides of his character, but that’s it. Most of the show, he just feels like a hormonally imbalanced teenage stereotype, lashing out at people, rushing headfirst into crap he can’t handle, and then apologizing afterward (or not apologizing and letting other people deal with it, or placing the blame on someone else). This sort of thing can work but only if you do it right.

Zuko from Avatar was a good example of this. Yes, he was emotional, had a short fuse, was full of shame, and often lashed out, but he also, over the course of the show, learned and DEMONSTRATED patience, introspection, critical thought, and compassion. Even in his earliest and worst days you could get the sense of honor and fairness that he had in the way that he treated both his peers and his enemies. We do not get much of that from Danny beyond a couple instances of him babbling about fighting honor or emotional control like he memorized a book on meditation.

And with regard to that, Danny keeps talking about where he comes from and how he was raised and the lessons he was taught but we hardly ever SEE ANY OF IT. For crying out loud, Marvel, SHOW. DON’T TELL. I cannot become invested in a character’s backstory if all I’m going to get is recounts of the philosophy he was taught and the responsibilities that were explained to him. Let me see the damn place. Let me see how his formative years went. How did he become the person he is? What were his relationships like? How did they foster the psychology he now possesses and the emotional conflicts he now harbors? Who the fuck knows. Danny, I can’t get invested in you as a character if I’m not given more of a foundation for all of your problems and motivations. This is the same issue I had with Man of Steel and Superman. Yes, I get it. You want to save lives. BUT WHY. Actually, Man of Steel did a much better job than Iron Fist, because at least you did get some form of explanation for why Superman does some of the things he does and has some of the issues that he has.

And this is connected to another problem that the overall narrative experiences. An overarching theme in this show is friendship and family. Danny seems to very, very much value family, as is demonstrated time and again in the show. He holds his name as priceless, regards Joy and Ward as siblings, treats Howard like a second father, and (purportedly) does whatever he can to protect and care for the people closest to him as the basis for his whole modus operandi. Family is precious to Danny, and informs the general philosophy of the show and its emotional through line.

You know why that doesn’t work, though? Because there’s almost no goddamn examples of POSITIVE relationships in this entire show. Everyone hates each other. Everyone is either lying to, manipulating, threatening, or straight-up stabbing everyone else that they have any connection to. Ward and Joy are constantly at odds. Ward despises his father, who is an enigmatic dick. Danny, Joy, and Ward openly show aggression, distrust, and resentment for one another. There’s a scene where Danny calls Ward his brother, acknowledges that he was a complete fucking dick to him his whole life, but still his brother. In that scene, Danny himself points out the vast and irritating dissonance between the values espoused by the show and what it actually portrays. We don’t even get flashbacks, save for one where Ward is, big surprise, being a dick to both Joy and Danny.

So what is Danny fighting for? Himself, whom we’ve been given very little opportunity to care for and like? Oh, no, wait, his parents. His parents are the cornerstone of his life experience and his purpose. And you know who we never get to see in the show outside of the scene where they literally both die? This is another example of the show withholding from its audience the opportunity to understand and become emotionally invested in anything that the characters, especially Danny, is ever fighting for or talking about. What kind of a man was Danny’s father? What did he do? What sort of relationship did he have with Danny? How did he make Danny who he is? How did he make the company what it was? What does the company even supposedly really stand for? Apparently, the show doesn’t care to tell you outside of a few scant tidbits.

So how about the other characters? Honestly, I can’t say much about them. Most of them are pretty boring. Colleen is okay, but she’s not particularly interesting. She’s very similar to Danny, as Claire points out, and functions mostly as a romantic foil. Joy is sort of just your token female supporting drama character who has some moral fiber that she sometimes acts on and tries not to take shit from anybody but generally she does very little in the way of helping the plot along and mostly just reacts and gets treated as a plot device. Howard, the antagonist of the show, could be intimidating at times, but he was largely a one-note character who had very little nuance and room to be sympathized with. And he loses a lot of that intimidation factor after it turns out he’s just the Hand’s bitch.

Ward probably has the most dramatic and fleshed out character arc in the show. They actually take the time to illustrate what sort of life he leads, why he does what he does, what causes him to have the feelings and thoughts that he does, and how he deals with them. Unfortunately, he’s still kind of a manipulative dick who doesn’t generally do a very good job at being either the good or the bad guy (and I’m sorry, but he does NOT redeem himself).

Honestly, the best characters in this show were probably Hogarth and Claire—the two characters not native to this show. Claire especially was good for the fact that she would, on occasion, actually point out Danny and Colleen’s bullshit and what terrible, stupid people they are. Small victories for the impatient and flabbergasted audience members.

The writing is lackluster. There was a whole stealth sequence in one of the episodes with Danny and Colleen where they’re just having banter for a few minutes, and it was just nothing. I almost skipped through it, I was so unamused. The dialogue often feels lazy. Scarcely anything in the script is ever very clever, enlightening, or funny. And speaking of funny, this show really could’ve done with some levity. I mean, seriously, going back to Danny as a character, having a more quirky, funny, fun protagonist would’ve been such a welcome change of pace for the Marvel Netflix shows. And it’s such a major letdown that, while you can see the seeds of it in some moments, those qualities of Danny largely are overtaken by his angst and self-pity. Seriously, Hogarth was probably the closest thing the show had to a comic relief, and she was in about ten minutes of it.

And, okay, let’s address those first couple of episodes. People complained that the show starts out really slow, and I’ve seen some people defend how slow it is. They say “well, you know, people looking for an intense, energetic action show should just shift gears and appreciate its smoother pace.” Bullshit. Slow does not make a show bad. Bad makes a show bad. You want to see a show that’s both slow and awesome? Go watch the new episodes of Samurai Jack. It understands that those slower moments are used to build character, tension, and atmosphere. Season 1 of Daredevil also understood this. You do not.

The first couple episodes are probably the worst in the show because, as people have already criticized, it’s dumb, boring, predictable, frustrating, seen-it-a-million-times soap opera drama. It’s the same problem that Arrow had for two seasons before people finally started to wise up to it and decide that it was BS and to stop watching. And the rest of the show isn’t much better, because while the pace picks up a bit, it intertwines all the Soap Opera drama BS with generic action drama BS. Plot twist after plot twist after contrived threat after cliff hanger happens over and over again, like the show is trying to distract you from how little weight there is to anything actually going on.

Later into the series, you find out that Colleen is a member of the Hand, and had been deceiving Danny this whole time. But, she also professes that the faction of the Hand to which she belongs is actually a “good” faction, as it carries out justice and helps those who need care, support, and shelter. But, Danny, who is convinced that the Hand is just plain bad and evil because that’s what he was raised believing (again, a period in his life that it would’ve been good to actually see), reacts very strongly negatively and cuts off ties with Colleen.

Now, what you had here was an opportunity for a genuinely interesting plot development which could’ve helped imbue the show with an actually evolving and challenging story. Maybe Danny would have to question his beliefs, look inside himself, see things from other people’s perspectives for once, grow as a person, and start understanding things on more than just a surface, emotional level.

But that’s not what happens. What happens is that the faction of the Hand of which Colleen is a member turns out to be evil after all. Colleen has to apologize to Danny for being so in the wrong, Danny is vindicated, he doesn’t learn jack shit, we get another positive relationship undercut by distrust and negativity, and the plot goes on as it always has with no real significant changes or new stakes. That is how this and shows like Arrow or Agents of SHIELD or movies like DCEU films operate and why they have lost their support as the years went on. Some, maybe not everyone, but some people wise up to contrived, clichéd, formulaic, ill-executed BS writing like that.

There was a scene towards the series’ climax where Danny has to make this big moral choice that seems like it’s some huge dilemma that will serve as a making-or-breaking point for the character. And it infuriated me. Because they were delivering it with so much dramatic emphasis that the scene DIDN’T DESERVE. You can’t just make 10 episodes and then have some big dramatic development and expect it to be emotionally engaging. You have to WORK UP TO THAT. You have to get me INVESTED in the CHARACTER and the STORY. You have to allow me to feel like I UNDERSTAND and EMPATHIZE with what the people in the story are going through. You have to fluidly and skillfully CONVEY AND EXEMPLIFY the themes and underlying philosophy of your narrative. You can’t just be like “guy has a tragic accident, learns kung fu, is messed up, learns a lesson.” No. That is how you tell a story immediately after you learn what a story is in the third grade. You are professionals. You are showrunners. You are handling a character which people value who belongs to a franchise which people value. GET IT RIGHT. DO IT JUSTICE. LEARN. EVOLVE. EXCEL.

Now, do I think that this show is just…top to bottom terrible with no redeeming qualities? Like, they wrote the script in a week and gave it no thought or effort? No, I don’t. I think plenty of effort and care, on some level, must have gone into this. But the issue is that all of that effort and care almost comes across as nothing more than an affectation or a mask of the show, as opposed to a foundational crux of its overall quality and spirit. The show just felt directionless, like it was trying to be something great but it didn’t understand what that was or how to do it. I get similar impressions from the DCEU movies (sometimes). It has the look of something amazing, but underneath is just gobbledy gook.

It’s a show that maybe worked on paper, but supremely failed in execution. Maybe you like this show, and I won’t tell you that your opinion doesn’t matter or that you shouldn’t allow what I’m saying to affect you. Because that’s bs. Of course your opinion matters and what I’m saying should affect you because people care about what other people think. It’s what makes art and discussion matter in the first place. But, seriously, you have to at least acknowledge that this is, from some understanding, a heavily, heavily flawed show. I know some people think critics are all full of hot air, the level of criticism this show has been getting is not something you can just dismiss as critics not knowing what they’re talking about. There’s a line. And this is the show that crossed it.

I’ll close my review by saying this: I hope Defenders is better, or else I’m swearing off Superhero dramas for a while. If you want a dramatic and dark show with martial arts and awesome direction? Go watch the new season of Samurai Jack. It even has humor.

EDIT: Iron Fist’s action also sucks.

#iron fist #review #spoilers #netflix #marvel

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[NF] 'Sanctuary' with the Oracle

Coming back from disgrace is a story of triumph and glory that society holds in the highest esteem. These tales are only eclipsed by fables of a meteoric rise from the depths of the downtrodden and unknown. Heracles is one of the most celebrated heroes of the Greek Pantheon, his stories involve both of these celebrated victories. Many sports legends of today involve the same two celebrated victories. So in this regard, sports could be seen as the modern day versions of the Tales of Heracles.

In the tales of old and in the tales of new, the deeds must be done to achieve everything desired, but the glory of the deeds are dimmed by the intimidating tasks. Heracles learned about himself while performing his heroic deeds and today’s athletes are no different. The scales of self-enlightenment are open to all, but only a few are strong enough to withstand the grind required to achieve ultimate success.

In the tales of old, Heracles flees to the Oracle of Delphi after committing a crime while under a spell. Unbeknownst to Heracles, the Oracle is against him as well. For the sake of his life and his glory, he must obey the Oracle. But this is just the tale of another supplicant to the daunting scales of American football. A supplicant who stepped onto the scale because the stars filled his eyes when the world was dim.

Going into my seventh grade year, to say I was ready to play football would be an understatement. Considering my motivations, what else could one expect from a twelve year old? Following my little league excursion, the idea of my mother having another demigod son was very appealing. What mother wouldn’t be proud of having three demigods of football under her roof? Plus, I was ready to prove myself to my neighborhood friends and make new friends at my new middle school. Enjoying video games and anime as much as I did, I was already close to the nerd label. Back then, it was not a good thing. I needed to do something to make me cool. Football gave me many birds with one stone.

Everyone remembers their first day at a new school. The surging feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Each heartbeat delivering a fresh fluttering of their acidic wings. I remember pulling up to Macario Garcia Middle School, sleepy but excited. The butterflies were strong, but I had the free lunch so I wasn't worried about throwing up. I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. The hunger combined with my trepidation to create a vortex of hollowness in my center. It was all I could to remain whole. Instead, I took in the building I would be entering for the next three years. Resigned to suffer another year of school, but excited by the newness of everything.

It was sixth grade, the school was brand new and, if I'm not mistaken, my class was the first class in the new facility. The Principal and the teachers definitely treated it like was new. The school was two floors of clean tan bricks, big sparkling windows, and glistening linoleum hallways. There were freshly painted animal murals on the walls of the hallways and each of the classrooms had thick plush carpets. Outside, there was a quarter-mile gravel track surrounding a football field. It was perpendicular to a smaller field with a discus ring and baseball field and the two fields framed the parking lot. This was where the buses dropped off the kids outside of the cafeteria, the safe place of all kids fat. My elementary school experience told me I was going to need this place.

This was my first time going to school without my little brother, but I wasn’t too worried. I was sure I wouldn’t need anyone with me in case I cried in the bathroom. This wasn’t the fourth grade. I was in the sixth grade now. Now, I was feeling the opposite. I was feeling eager. The smell of my new clothes filled my nose. My toes felt luxuriated in my new shoes. Even though I wouldn’t play football until the seventh grade, I was sure I was going to make friends and do well. My parents assured me that I would.

Lining up for breakfast, I remember looking around and something odd hit me. There were a lot more girls here than at my elementary school...a lot. I recognized one here and there, but they were few and far in-between. I didn’t even know this many girls existed and for some reason I couldn’t turn away as they walked this way and that. Girls of all shapes and sizes. Shapes and sizes-

Hormones.

Standing there on that first day of school, I watched these heavenly creatures pass me by. I tried to talk, to say anything, but they didn’t even acknowledge my existence. If I somehow managed to get their attention, they looked upon me with either amusement or horror. A reaction that always ended with them giggling as they ran off, turning back to look at me, and then erupting in laughter once more. And it was on the first day of school I realized something.

My ‘chubbiness’ as a child had matured into plain old fat. It took me less than a week to see that I boasted a bra cup size larger than some of the school administrators. The girls at my school wouldn’t look in my direction even if I was speaking to them. To make things worse, a group of ‘friends’ would grab at my man-boobs. But, these guys had the girls swarming like mosquitoes around a light bulb. I figured I was bound to get smacked by one of them if I stayed close enough. So I lingered around them from time to time and they grabbed at my chest from time to time. After all, if a boy’s friends couldn’t grab a titty or two, then who could?

As the year passed, I made other friends, actual friends. Usually we shared an interest in something, Dragonball-Z or video games, but sometimes it was a friendship of being kind to a stranger. Plus, what kind of asshole grabs the titty of a kid who is nice to them? I thought I had the middle school social game stitched up with that two-for-one. Unfortunately for me, life got in the way of my game plan.

Those friendships? Casualties of cliques. Nothing ever degenerated to a state of animosity, but a head nod in the hallway was the best I could hope. And as it turns out, middle school kids are the kinds of assholes to grab the titties of nice kids. I hated it, but I was lucky. I was big enough to scare off most of the daredevils, but there was still my group of ‘friends’ with all the girls. That all stopped one day after gym class.

It was sometime during the spring because I remember it being bright and muggy outside. I don't remember what activity we had during PE, but I do remember being in a sour mood afterwards. This wasn't anything new. I wasn’t athletic at that age. I was either a reluctant pick, sitting duck, diversionary target, or a cheerleader/bench warmer. But something was different about that day. Something about that day refused to allow me to take any shit from anyone.

The boys and the girls were separated, but something kept the coaches from opening the boys locker room so we lingered in the hallway. I was in the middle of the group lost in a daydream when I felt a brush under my armpit and a squeeze on my nipple. I spun on instinct. Standing there was the leader of my popular ‘friends.’ He had a proud smirk on his face while a few others of the group stood behind him snickering. Something about their smiles and his smirk combined with my already sour mood. All the frustration from the months of grabbing, snickering, disrespect, and dismissal came to the front of my mind. I snapped.

I pushed him as hard as I could and I remember him slamming against the wall, but looking unfazed. I was a big boy, but my size was earned with cakes and candy. The leader was taller than me and fit, almost brawny. He always had a wild look in his eye. Like anything could set him off and he wouldn’t stop raging until someone was dead. He intimidated me, but I was too angry to think about that. I was too angry to think at all. The only thing flowing through my mind was the need for retribution.

So I got it.

I launched myself at my opponent like I was Goku during the Frieza Saga in Dragonball-Z, hurt and angry. All my built-up frustration exploded in the form of a headbutt to his chest and a drive into the wall, keeping him pinned there with all my weight. I threw wild punches into my bully’s ribs and I felt him flinch. I heard ‘oof’ and ‘ahh’ but I didn’t know if that was from him or the spectators. I didn’t know much of what was going on around me. All I knew was that after a lifetime of swinging that was likely only few seconds, I heard something about the coach coming. I immediately pulled off my attack. I tried to be cool and turn around all smooth like James Bond, but I was too tired. I managed to turn around well enough, but it was obvious I was trying to be cool about it.

I knew the coach would find out. How wouldn’t he? The school was going to call my mom. She would tell my dad. There would be this whole thing about it. It would end in me getting grounded, or spanked... even sent to a school back in Nigeria if it was bad enough. At that point all I could do was regret my attack and try not to pass out from exhaustion.

I watched the coach get closer and closer. He turned, looked at me, and frowned before he waded through the group of sweaty boys and opened the doors. He went into his office plopped into his seat, and started doing whatever PE coaches do outside of PE. None the wiser about what he missed.

So after that day, there was no more titty grabbing...but no more proximity to heavenly creatures. A dire situation seeing as how my hormones were crying out for a girl from the moment I woke up to when I fell asleep.

Sixth grade wasn’t all bad though. I had my fair-weather friends. I had my routine. But I had nothing I wanted. No problem. Two of my older brothers were demigods. That meant I had the seed of greatness in me. My mom told me so all the time. I just had to bide my time and try to keep my hormone-drowned mind in check. I didn't need to spend every available second generating sex scenes with every eligible woman and girl I passed. Football was the only thing that would make those scenes a reality. So I waited.

Sixth grade came and went. The summer came and went. Seventh grade was starting and football was coming. My time with Toonami and the Sci-Fi Channel was over. No more Dynasty Warriors and Madden. An end to my days of Starbursts and Tostino’s Pizzas for afternoon snacks before my parents got home. The world would soon be blessed with the tales of another modern day demigod.

So I stepped onto the scale.

On the first day of seventh grade, I signed up to play football in the paperwork the school gave us. I tried to let it slip that I was going to be a football player, but no one talked to me so it remained a surprise for later. A few days later, I walked into the Equipment Room where I got all my equipment. I was assigned a locker and given a brief demonstration of how to put everything on. There was only one thing I was nervous about.

I’d heard stories about the mythical locker room where my demigod brothers kept their equipment. They made it sound like a place of fantasy and adventure. They made it sound so fun, but I had one overwhelming problem. A problem that I dreaded and failed to maneuver around. I had to undress...like down to my underwear...man-boobs free to the world. Hundreds of schemes ran through my head. My goal was to somehow keep my shirt on while putting on my pads, but we were required to wear a half shirt. No avoiding my fate with that.

The feel of the cool air on my nipples filled me with dread as my head went over my shirt. I feared the laughter and grabbing of the entire locker room. I may have fought off my bully, but I couldn’t fight off the whole locker room. I had no choice but to resign myself to being the locker room grab toy. My shirt came off...and nothing happened. My back was to the rest of the locker room and the other lockers in my row could still see my man-boobs, but no one said anything. They looked for sure. There were a few wide eyes, but the rest of the kids were too busy getting ready to make any remarks. That made me relax.

When I fitted on my shoulder pads, I remember hitting my chest for some odd reason. It felt weird so I did it again and I realized what I was feeling was solidity. I looked down and though my belly poked out, my chest was flat. I had no boobs. These shoulder pads rescued me from man-boobs. I became very happy. For the first time since I was three, I felt like I was a regular boy. I was finally fitting in somewhere.

The spike of confidence dulled when I realized most of these boys actually finished their little league years. In all honesty, I constantly wondered if I was going to quit on this team too, but I had a good feeling. Having a flat chest was too good a feeling to let go. All I had to do was figure out a way to wear my shoulder pads during school and I would be set, but I had to play to keep them.

When the groups were separated into the men of substance and the skill players, I looked around at my fellow offensive and defensive linemen. Most of them may have played little league football, but none of them almost took down two players. I did and I wanted to tell them that I did, but couldn't. Guess, I’d have to wait until the coaches busted out the bags I’m sure they had.

Well the coaches had the bags alright...just like my first few weeks of middle school football had some very bitter lessons for me. The first lesson came on the very first day of practice. No one is special. If you’re out of position or unprepared in any manner, you’re getting smacked. Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ could be out on the field. He would get bulldozed by a player looking to get that holy clout. It was a particularly painful lesson, but I learned.

My second and most heart-wrenching lesson in the divine sport came on the day of the first game. There were no weight limits on public school football teams, so I didn’t have to worry about getting kicked off the team, but I did wonder if I was going to make it. Practice could be fun but there was too much running and I had to suffer through the nightmare of conditioning.

By the time I had these thoughts flowing through my mind, the week of the first game came. I heard a rumor in the locker room that there were going to be cheerleaders. I still hadn’t figured out a way to wear my shoulder pads to school, but if the girls saw my with a flat chest, they would fall in love. That’s usually how it worked in anime. I made it onto the A-Team so that was good and with this game I would finally have my shot to get a girl to like me... then the coach announced the depth chart. Girls only wanted the All-Stars and MVPs...you can’t be either if you don’t start.

Even still, this was my first game ever. When we were walking out of the locker room wearing our pads and game uniforms, I looked at the field. There were two sets of aluminum stadium seats about four or five rows high. People were in them. When we got onto the field, the B-Team was still playing, but my eyes were stuck on the people in the seats. There were other girls from the school there. A few of them were talking to the cheerleaders and that’s when I saw that the rumor was true. My heart was beating normally, but it was thumping. The cheerleaders were all so hot and there were even more girls in the stands. Surely one of them would take notice of me and like me. I mean I was flat chested now, surely my man-boobs were the reason they didn’t know I existed.

The game started...and I sat on the bench. However, it was on that bench that was inducted into the fraternity. The Eternal Fraternity of Football Players. Sitting on that bench, I made the first genuine friends I could ever remember having. Guys that actually liked me and with whom I shared interests with. They didn’t treat my presence as a nuisance and they actually liked what I said from time to time. We were the Pine Crew. I had my first sleepover at one of their houses, but my snoring was otherworldly because I woke up by myself. The Pine Crew was made of the same kind of guys. Either built for football but goofy or strong without an athletic frame. Not everyone on the sidelines was in the Pine Crew. There were second stringers and others who played, but none of us played unless someone was hurt or the game was pretty much done.

As much as I enjoyed their friendship, I hated not starting. My demigod brothers were only on the sidelines to rest from playing all the time, but what could I do. My time would come, but in the meantime, I enjoyed my Pine Crew. Plus, with all of us on the sidelines, we all cheered each other on when one of us managed to get into the game. So when I was called up at the end of one game, my Pine Crew saw my one and only highlight on the defensive line. They were not the only ones.

It was one of the last games of the season. My team was away and the cloudy gray skies matched my dour mood. There in the stands was none other than my father. With two all-stars as his oldest born sons, I could only imagine his disappointment in seeing a son of his sitting on the sidelines. I was ready to show out for my father. I asked my coach if I could play all week, but my coach wanted to win. He made vague promises, but there me and my Pine Crew sat. Then the fourth quarter came.

The rain had not ceased the downpour and the game was over. I heard the a timeout call then I heard something weird in that setting...my name. I turned to my coach and he was waving me onto the field. I jammed my helmet on my head and ran out as fast as I could. We were on defense so I was going to be one of the interior defensive linemen. There were thirty-odd seconds left in the game, enough time to run a few more plays, but that was cool. I was in the game. My dad would see me play and I made sure to give him something to see.

My frustration and embarrassment exorcised itself in the form of an explosive play that surprised even me. I rocketed out of my stance at the snap of the ball and in what felt like a few mere moments, I was in the backfield. Surprised to be there, I was lost for a second, but I remembered I was on defense so I began searching for the ball carrier. That’s when I saw it. Right there in the middle of the muddy field a few yards away, the ball rested, waiting to be picked up. With nothing but open muddy fields in front of me, visions of glory filled my eyes and I began charging. I sloshed through the mud as quickly as I could and I remember feeling buoyant as I took the final step for the ball with no one in my sight. Suddenly, the wrong colored jersey flashed in front of me and one of the opposing players picked up the ball right in front of me. My momentum carried me into a tackle and I was rewarded with a long streak of mud down my side for my efforts. As happy as I was about making the tackle, something else made the whole year of riding the bench worth it.

A familiar sounding cheer erupted from the stands. I turned to see my father on his feet cheering like he cheered at the games of my demigod brothers. Seeing my father, I forgot what cloud nine was because became a cloud. He was on his feet, yelling at the top of his lungs as though I had scored the game winning touchdown. Seeing my father cheer like that, I felt as though I did.

That final play of my seventh grade year juiced up me for the rest of the year. At that point, football was all I cared about. My eighth grade year was the year that the divine game would deliver the promises I had placed upon the scale. The universe seemed to give me a sign of providence when I learned that not only had I made the A-Team once more, I was going to start that year too.

On the A-Team and starting? Every female who laid her eyes on me would drape themselves over me and fight to give me their undergarments. Only problem was that I forgot about the whole man-boobs thing and how much females scorned them so nothing changed for me. I once again personally ensured the school dances didn’t have every student in attendance.

As disappointing as this failed promise was, I didn’t despair. That year, my team went undefeated and that left me invigorated for my upcoming ninth grade year. With this level of victory behind me, I was headed for the domain of my personal demigods. The site of their victories and the place where their legend was formed. I was going to Kempner High School.

The girls would regret not swooping me up when they had the chance now that I would be entering the domain where my demigod brothers once ruled. I was sure there were people who still remembered their names. The legend of my family combined with the victories I was apart of would mean I was prime and football was the key. I would join my brothers in the Pantheon of Legends also known as the Fieldhouse. I would claim my promises in high school.

Then Christmas Eve happened...

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#Blogger #Story

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morewritingforourcharacters · 5 years

Text

The worst game of Crazy Taxi

The entire city had been flipped upside down and scattered Flynn’s entire family like mice in a flood- all because of one woman. Jillian.

Flynn’s fingers gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as the old beat up taxi careened down the rainy streets with its usual abandon. The cab was emptied some minutes ago of Toby and his ragtag crew- now he was left with nothing to hold him back from his daredevil coarse. The obstacles served as only minor inconveniences as he swiveled and swerved, compelled entirely by panic and fury. He yelled insane, nonsensical curses at passersby’s and hapless victims of this tiny apocalypse for having the audacity to slow him down by fractions of seconds. His deepest regret now was that he could go no faster; he had always driven as if his very life was on the line- and now that something more precious than his life was actually in possible danger… He found it impossible to be more reckless than he had already been. His panic was caused by Something peculiar that had ticked in his mind. After he had escaped the scrambling hordes with his allies- the fear ebbed away into a deep sense of dread- it left him with one burning question: Where was his Daughter? He had known for a while that there was something funny going on with the crime syndicates around here, that his daughter was apart of it- and that his other children were pitted firmly in the rival gang. He knew that it was because of Jillian and Carter that some strange happening gripped the town- something that was causing everyone to lose their minds… And he knew from the recent radio broadcasts that his daughter was not only wanted… But she was alone. Carter- had left her alone to make the announcement that stopped the calamity in its tracks. But his daughter was in still peril- he just knew it. Perhaps it was his usual paternal paranoia, but something about this all fit together with alarming clarity. The girl was with Jillian- and something was going to happen to her… Or both of them. His daughter had a vicious spirit in her that he had never seen until recently, and he was afraid of how she would wield it now that she was alone and broken. He had already gone to the acting studio and found it destitute and abandoned- now he was speeding to the only other place he assumed her to be- Jillian's home. He knew where it was, he had taken note of it once Aghaveagh had started going there regularly. It was across the town park- a great sprawling mass of pointless nature scenery. When his Mad taxi came upon this great useless expanse of wet grass, he hardly gave a second thought to jumping the curb and driving straight through it. Flynn didn’t slow down for anything. He barreled down bushes, flowerbeds and signposts as he went. He weaved around benches and the occasional over-large tree, and the conspicuously deep lake that would swallow his car whole if he wasn’t careful to avoid it. However, he met his match when he mounted a hill and had not foreseen the appearance of a large, sturdy tree stump stickin several feet up from the ground. The taxi skidded dangerously across the rain slicked grass as he took too sharp a turn over the central park green, Flynn grunted furiously as his arms worked the wheel and tried to straighten out, eyes wildly flicking between an oncoming stump in his passenger window and the path towards Jillian’s ill-gotten mansion.

Flynn knew it was too late before the car impacted with the tree and he cursed himself for his carelessness. He tried to brace himself against the drivers door, but as soon as the car hit the tree, his thin body was thrown across the seat. The Irishman blinked in a daze for only a moment before he pulled himself back up and looked at the damage, letting out a string of furious exclamations. He punched the gas down to the floor and listened as the wheels spun and the engine strained under his unrelenting foot- eventually the cloud of exhaust clouding around the car informed him that he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The Irishman scrambled out of his car, immediately tripping up in the rain and falling to the mud under quaking legs. But a grunt and a growl saw him back up and he ran across the other side to see if he could push it out. The back tires were sunk in a good two inches and the passenger side was concave against the unperturbed tree. The old man swore loudly and immediately started looking for another solution.

For lack of any answers, Flynn just started running. His old worn shoes sunk into the mud with each pounding step, thoughts racing about how his foolishness would cost him his daughter's life. He chastised himself for letting things go this far, for not being attentive enough- for pushing her away and letting her fall with no one there to catch her. How could he be so callous when he loved her so very much? What sort of father would let their child do this to themselves? These thoughts plagued his mind as his old body made it apparent that it wouldn’t take these rigors for any length of time. It would take too long to get there, and each moment seemed like it ticked down on some timer with an unknown end. He reached the sidewalk on the far end of the park, heaving and halfway keeled over against a telephone pole. Desperately he looked around at the scene of destruction that was the once peaceful avery street- cars were scattered across the road, boards closed off doors and windows of places that weren’t left entirely ajar or broken down, the occasional wanderer was running through the streets, but otherwise… all was disturbingly quiet. That's when Flynn spotted the only car with someone still in it. The old man swallowed down his gulping breaths and jogged over to the occupied car, tapping frantically on the window as he approached. “Ey! Ey- I need your car, I need-” Flynn’s voice dropped off as he peered through the misted windows- the man inside was flopped over on his steering wheel, clearly unconscious- or dead. Flynn bit his lip- But his haste overcame his usual caution and pulled the door open, dismissing his nagging conscience. If the man was unconscious, he would need to be driven- if he was dead, he didn’t need the car anymore. That was good enough reasoning for now. Flynn checked the man's pulse, then roughly shoved him over to the passenger side. “Sorry, I’ll take care of you later.” The irishman grunted as he turned the key and clenched his teeth. The car struggled to start, but a few sputtering attempts got the engine fo finally roared to life- immediately the old man threw the car in reverse and spun it around, escaping the tangle of cars by driving over the sidewalk with little care for anyone who might be coming out of an alleyway onto it. It was a straight shot to Jillian's, and Flynn's mouth felt dry for the cusping anticipation. He couldn't be sure if she was there at all- and if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t know where to go next. But he had all his hopes in this one attempt- and he had to believe it was the right choice. The stolen car turned the corner that lead onto Pearl avenue and immediately blanched from the sight. The home that belonged to jillian had black smoke billowing out of its grand halls. Whatever madness had compelled him to that point had nothing on the spirit that gripped Flynn now. Without any regard for his or anyone else's life, he punched the gas for a second time that day, caring nothing for the iron gate that separates him from the burning home. He knew it was to do with Aghaveagh- he just knew it. As the gate go closer and closer, Flynn’s resolve only hardened, he only rolled his shoulders up to prepare for the impact. CRASH! Flynn was stunned for a moment as the car jolted, the sound of glass crashing and iron breaking deafening to his ears. But his car still flew forward, swerving and spinning into the courtyard. Flynn hit the breaks and ground his teeth as the car screeched across the courtyard. The stairway up to the front door was closing in- the man threw the wheel around and the car's momentum kept it sliding in the same direction. The car slowed and hit the stair with a rough but manageable thud. Flynns shaking hands found the door handle and he tumbled out of the car, writhing against the ground with shock. He looked back up towards the gate to see its twisted iron remains, then at the long black marks from his tires. They swirled across the courtyard madly, and smoke poured out from under the hood of the dented hunk of metal that was only vaguely shaped like a car. Flynn swallowed hard and ignored the cuts from the broken glass that had grazed his hands and face, trying to regain his senses as his old bones struggled up to face the door. He could smell the fire from here. He spared no more time on recovery, anxiously pulling the door open and running inside. It was difficult to tell where to go in the opulent hallways, but the trail of smoke was like a wicked spirit in this maze and he followed its ominous thickness until he could see fire eagerly lapping up strange wet stains on the carpet. Grimacing and choking, Flynn pulled his shirt collar over his face and stepped around the flames as best he could- is sense of dread only increasing with the rising heat. “AGHAVEAGH!” he shouted through coughs, trying to see through the opaque smoke. Then his heart skipped when he saw at the end of the hall a room almost completely engulfed. That's where it started… That… He found himself running again, wincing as the flames filled the entire space with incredible heat. He stopped just short of the door and squinted inside, trying to see if anyone was in there- hoping that his intuition was wrong. “BOBBIN!” He yelled, spotting the blood chilling form of his daughter in the center of a lake of fire, her island quickly being eaten up by starving flames. Any man would be intimidated- But Flynn had already braved everything else, Fire was no more a deterrent than anything else. Nothing would keep him from her in this moment- even if it meant the death of them both. With a spryness he never would have thought possible for himself Flynn sprinted headlong into the fiery room, his coat over his face as he pelted toward the girl. He reached out as he got closer and pulled her up into his arms, then just kept running. He practically threw his body out of the flaming room, feeling every bone in his body creak and scrape as their forms tumbled clumsily out across the floor. Flynn wasn’t down long before his adrenaline fueled concern ushered him to check the girl over- and himself. He immediately beat off some embers from his charred pant legs and flames that caught his coat sleeves, then looked the girl over- Lord help them, she looked rough… She looked… His mind barely touched the idea that she might be dead- the wellspring of emotions that would come with that idea stymied only when the loud popping of the fire reminded him of their dire situation… He couldn’t stop yet, as much as his old body cried for some relief, he couldn’t succumb until they were out of here.

He struggled to his feet, arms under Aghaveagh’s to drag her along as best he could- looking for a way out of this labyrinthian deathtrap. The hallway was quickly filling with choking smoke and heat- he had no real hope of finding a way out when he was half delirious, eyes bleary with tears from the black clouds and persisting fear. But light poured into the hazy gloom, the illumination of a means of escape. Flynn wasted no time in approaching the window, peering out only briefly to be sure of what was on the other side. He awkwardly held aghaveagh with one arm and he pushed the window open, releif almost immediate as the fresh air rushed in. However- he realized his other problem: getting Aghaveagh out. Flynn let out a noise of exasperation as he looked back down the firey hallway- he didn’t have long to figure this out- but surely he couldn’t shover her through and drop her on her head. “Hey!” A voice from outside shouted, reaching him from what sounded like a mid distance. Flynn’s breath hitched as his head swiveled around to meet the voice- it was that young man. Jillian’s son- what was his name? “Help me! I’m gonna push the girl through, you help her out.” Flynn bellowed. He had little choice at this point but just to trust the young man to help him- Richard was approaching at a running pace, looking both horrified and confused. “What- Aghaveagh? Where is my mother?” He tried to ask through puffs of breath, looking between the broken window and the burning building with increasing alarm. Flynn cared nothing for the young man’s confusion and was already laying his jacket down on the window sill to help slide her out, one eye always on the encroaching fire.

“Don’t ask me questions, boy- here she comes!” Flynn said with wheezing coughs, his head fogging from the fumes. He picked his girl up and slid her out legs first as gently as he could, Richard obligingly helping the girl down. Flynn struggled to climb out himself, but eventually tumbled out onto the grass, holding his burning throat and coughing harshly as he struggled on the ground. “G-give her here, here- to me.” The man insisted as soon as he could get to his feet, gesturing for Richard to put her down. His voice was weaker and gruffer from the smoke, but his eyes were alive with emotions as he looked on his Daughter’s broken body. He needed to get her home… But the man did not relent. He was assessing intently at aghaveagh, a peculiar expression on his face. “She’s been shot, you know. You both need the hospital.” Though Richard said this rather nonchalantly, Flynn choked on this news, struggling to staggering over to richard to clutch at aghaveagh. His face twisted up into some awful sorrow, his rough hands coming up to touch Aghaveagh’s ghostly pale cheek as she lay limp in Richard’s arms like some dead thing. “Shot? Shot… How did this happen- WHAT HAPPENED-” His sorrow turned to fury as his voiced raised to a yell- though any further exclamations were stopped by another fit of coughs. Richard frowned and nodded at his own car, which sat gleaming in the orange firelight.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there… But I’ll take you-” “No, no-” Flynn spat immediately, pointing a warning finger at Richard’s face and tugging at the girl’s charred blouse. “You aren’t taken nobody anyplace. Give her over- or be halfway decent and bring her to my car. We’ll not be dealing with you and yours any longer.” Flynn said with such hot fury behind his voice that it wouldn’t have seemed he had been through a gauntlet at all. Richard furrowed his brow at the half destroyed wreck that was Flynn’s car- then back at the half destroyed wreck that was flynn. “Well…” Richard started slowly, holding the girl as if he could read well in Flynn’s exhaustion that he wouldn’t be able to carry aghaveagh anywhere. “If you’re still running, then maybe the car will too.” Richard did not argue after his last cheeky quip and only helped Aghaveagh into the front seat of the vehicle, only raising his eyebrows as Flynn ruthlessly rolled the other unconscious person onto the floor of the passenger seat, insisting the girl be lain down next to himself. He started the car as Richard leaned aghaveagh up against the seat back. Flynn regarded the younger man with a dark look- and before the young thug could say anything, he pushed the pedal into the floor and was off with a rattling start, the door slamming shut from the speed. --- They had barely made it to the hospital in one piece- and when they did, Flynn had to push his way to the front yelling about gunshot wounds and fire damage to get attention amid a myriad of other victims of various troubles caused by the recent events.

But in the hands of the nurses and doctors, there was nothing his loud voice or rude slurs could do to let him see his daughter before they had patched up his bleeding cuts and searing burns.

There was only one thing on his mind as he pulled and persisted with the caregivers, and it wasn’t his own pain- he needed to be there when Aghaveagh opened her eyes. Who knew how she’d feel when she woke up- especially alone… Afraid? Of course she’d be afraid- she had been shot! Bloody shot! Each time his mind returned to her broken, pale, bleeding image he felt like a wild thing gone mad with worry. His wee girl- his precious Bobbin… Hurt by so many people. The same question ran circles in his mind. How could he let this happen? How could he? They finished with him eventually- but Flynn’s agitation was so great that they couldn’t withhold him from overexerting himself on his way to the ward where they had treating Aghaveagh. It felt like it had been hours- and maybe it had, he felt winded when he finally stepped through the doorway and into the room. Rows of people on medical beds- but only the shock of fire red caught his eye. Adrenaline at the sight of his girl put power back in his legs and he practically jogged over in spite of the searing aches. She was on the end, looking listlessly out the window- her cheeks flushed and eyes turned away. Flynn found his mouth gaping open wordlessly, closing the gap between then and clasping one of her limp hands in both his own. At first she moved slowly- eyes drifting like a series of still frame pictures taken one after the other. Then a snap. “Papa-” To Flynn’s own surprise, the girl seemed to try to recoil from him- but he held her hand fast and wouldn’t let it retreat.

“Bobbin… Girl…” He rumbled quietly in his coarse tone, eyes traveling with a hectic haste over her. He could think of nothing to say in this moment of strange, anguished reunion. Aghaveagh, for her part, looked at if her mind was doing mad backflips trying to comprehend the situation and how to respond to it. She could barely remember what happened to her or why she was here- and now her Papa stood next to her in a hospital, covered head to toe in soot and bruises. “What happened-- It’s not- Papa… I’m-” But before she could say anything else, one of Flynn’s hands pressed against her stuttering lips to silence her. His eyes bore into hers, so like his own- now both filled with the bitten back tears of regret.

“No, child. No. I’m sorry.” He spoke in a voice soft as when she was just a little toddling girl, trying to soothe her through the fever of a cold season’s sickness. Aghaveagh seemed to quiver under the weight of the words, too weak to move and too overcome to respond. Flynn moved his aching body to sit on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing her unburned hand with his rough fingers to try and calm her as best he could without jostling her broken body. “I’m so very sorry.” --- They had advised him against leaving- but he had advised them how empty his pockets were- which did a fine job of loosening the doctor’s gilded fists. In truth, Flynn appreciated the concern, but He truly couldn’t afford a doctor’s stay- and more than that… Aghaveagh desperately wanted to go home. A request the old man simply couldn’t deny.

The car he had ‘borrowed’ from the unconscious man was still in working order- though it rattled and shook like an old man on his last leg. Neither of them cared, though- Flynn drove the rattling thing slowly through the shambling streets, Aghaveagh nestled in his lap like she used to do when she was a child. Her watery face was against his soot stained shirt, wild shock of red hair filling the space between his chest and the steering wheel- the occasional fat tear rolling down her cheek as they puttered home in mutual silence. He had told her everything he had done that day. Every hectic moment that brought him to her in the nick of time. She had yet to say anything- and he didn’t press her to. It was only when the Car stopped in front of their little hovel that the girl stirred at all, and when she did it was merely to strain to look at the building with a certain reluctance in her face. “... Papa…” Her voice was small and whispering. “Yes, Bobbin?” “Is everyone… There?” She hesitated a moment, but her lips quivered open again not long after. “-Can we stay here for a bit..?” Flynn inhaled slowly, weariness settling over him suddenly. He unclasped his hands from the steering wheel and found resting places for his hands that wouldn’t prod any healing wounds- one brushed rhythmically over her course bush of hair. He kissed her forehead as he often did, the same swell of paternal affection flooding his chest as it always had, day after day since the day he first held her little form in his arms. “... Aye, Girl. As long as we want.” He sighed and let his eyes sink down to his daughter’s face, watching as he eyelids fluttered closed. “A bit of worry will do that lot good.”

#Fathers #be good #to your daughters #and your cars

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yenrps · 7 years

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Acting is the expression of a neurotic impulse. It’s a bum’s life. The principal benefit acting has afforded me is the money to pay for my psychoanalysis. — Marlon Brando

CHARACTER SUMMARY

Fame has always been an unavoidable part of his life, no point in downplaying or omitting that. It’s hardly manageable for a kid growing up not to endure whispers in the hallway and people poking questions at his mother’s health and whether or not she will make a comeback. For Alexander, dodging all of this unwanted attention was a tiresome sport in his childhood, and continues well into his adolescent years. Because his family is one rooted in the public eye. Almost everyone, mind you, except for him. If there is anything about Alexander that is undoubtedly certain, it’s that he hasn’t got the faintest idea what he wants to do with his life, not least of all because his older siblings have all commendable carriers in the limelight, all of which have served to rekindle their station as a celebrity clan, of sorts.

By contrast, Alexander knows he’s the outsider, the quiet one, the dreamer and artist; the one branded as a genius because some doctors once insisted that his linguistic capabilities far surpassed that of his peers. But what he wants more than all these promising labels is a shot at normalcy - at being a normal kid without the need to impress anyone or live up to this idealized and glamorized idea what he ought to be.

The only impasse is his passion: acting, namely, which requires an audience he is not ready to face, as aimlessly as he tries to figure out who he is, and how to be comfortable in his own skin. Only when he can shed his skin does Alexander breathe freely, secure in the constraints of being somebody else. Poetry, drawing, acting - these three are his loyal companions. In a way, all he needs is right there, in art, for it opens up the possibility of sharing without exposing himself. The fear of being misunderstood is much too crippling to be courageous. His motivation, his fuel, therefore, is to find himself in between piles of different personalities, hoping he’ll feel comfortable with being just himself some day.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

Generally, off stage run-ins with Alexander vary greatly. Even his pitch and voice texture seems more a spectrum than a fixed tone, as he mostly just carries on being a poseur around people - including but not limited to what he sounds like. To customers at the shop, his voice is quiet yet attentive and pleasant. Soft, in short, so that regulars have quickly come to appreciate such a polite and soft-spoken boy, in spite of his easily forgettable appearance from short-cut, jet black hair to light-brown, kind yet perceptive eyes and high collared shirts. Every now and then, though, his tattooes peek through, tiny art bits crafted mostly by Avery, his co-worker and friend, from colored to black and white. Most motives convey his personality, all of which are placed in private or easily coverable places. From swallows to lizards and trampled roses, everything is there in his rapidly growing collection of tattoos. In the hope that, someday, there will be a person special enough to uncover and look at him;see him.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

What you get will be an expedition of masks; a panorama, one more vibrant and beautiful than the other. But most importantly, it’s what people want to see. This, Alexander will readily and willingly display without any word of complaint. A contagious grin, a lilt in his voice as he responds - optimism all around. Beneath it, however, loom self-absorbed doubts, all-defying pessimism down to almost nihilistic streaks and self-pity - the ugly, labyrinthine passage he allows scarcely few to see. Nobody wants that, he’d argue, withdrawing instead even further from himself to welcome others, and to be regarded as a positive influence. The only thing he can’t readily fake off stage is confidence - especially towards assertive, fiercely capable and sure-footed personages.

What are Alexander’s greatest gifts to aligning talent and technique as an actor are likewise his greatest weaknesses beyond art: hypersensitivity and introspection. While it is easy to become immersed in a role, it has become quite the chore to be just himself, and so the acting never ends.

Examined in close, intimate moments, it is said he is too intense, and his doubts and overwhelming sensitivity a turn off. It’s not that he is a fragile boy about to break; the crux boils down to his fear to be misunderstood and to lose any chance of finding friends - or most notably a partner - to accept him as the compassionate, tactful, sensual man that he is, without looking away from his self-consciousness, the tiring transitions between two absolutes (e.g. blind idealism and crushing pessimism), his struggle to relate to others, and his inability to manage in a practical world.

Essentially, Alexander is a liar with the penchant for it, missteps notwithstanding. Most of what is appealing about him remains an act in the end, no matter how free, daredevil-like and fun he may be around you - any closer scrutiny and one will knock over Pandora’s box, to put a top to his energetic demeanor, and the ‘thinking while doing’ philosophy which he has adopted and taken to heart. Because, at his core, he is either dumb or lion-hearted enough to still believe there is a place for authenticity and idealism in this piss-poor-poseur production that is this world?

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

Technically, Alexander speaks three languages to varying degrees of proficiency starting with his mother tongue, Japanese, and ending with Avery’s insistence on teaching him German. English is undoubtedly the language he has gained fluency in while only being able to come up to a lower intermediate level in Japanese, which secretly bothers him more than he lets on, not least of all because it puts a barrier between his grandparents and himself when he’s visiting – and his siblings, to some extent, as he is the only one struggling – so it equally annoys him that, even though both languages are hardly comparable in any objective sense, he seems to be having a much easier time learning German where he’s already at a lower intermediate level despite only having studied it for a little over two years.

Now, having always had a natural affinity for languages, Alexander easily picks up new languages with little difficulty. His heart, however, beats in accordance with the bard’s works, hence his decision to have loitered around England for a while to pursue an English degree. No art school, despite his parent’s attempts to pester him into giving it a try. His artistic prowess notwithstanding, Alexander has likewise undergone training as an aspiring actor, even having starred in a few low-budget productions at his local theatre back in his hometown. Indeed, he even is in charge of an acting course for children from nine to thirteen – naturally with the main focus being on Shakespearean plays.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

Despite genuine efforts being made, Alexander is not the ideal friend he thinks he is, often being at odds with how he wants them to act and what they’re really like. This, in turn, accentuates his inability to sustain his empathy off-stage. Consequently, there is this disconnect between him and others, this distance that cannot be breached no matter how buoyant or otherwise uncomplicated he comes across. As a result of this, Alexander has been called selfish, self-absorbed, whiny, vain, pretentious - just too much work.

Having always been the odd kid cradling outrageously expensive special editions of classics and Classics alike, he isn’t necessarily close to his family. At least conventionally, Alexander returns the sentiment of love - really, he does - but neither can they identify, much less understand them - nor can he understand their motivations for pushing him, relentlessly so, to publish his works and move up the prestigious ladder of receiving the recognition they believe he deserves. Put simply, his tendency to idealize people - to dehumanize them, in a sense - and to admire anyone and everyone on a pedestal puts him at a disadvantage and, in the same vein, in the unpleasant position of never feeling close to anybody.

Inspired by: an actor’s panel I found on Youtube, Dandelion, very loosely (TW)

#bio outline #bio outline;Alexander

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