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kigiom · 11 months

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Hi hello, I’m very much enjoying your endeavour posting with no context whatsoever! But what’s it about?

(I know I could google but personally I love explaining things I love, so I thought I’d ask😊)

hi! so! well! thank you that's very kind of you <3 very long post incoming.

endeavour is a crime drama that stands on its own, but it's also a prequel to a pretty well known earlier show called inspector morse (that I haven't actually seen) and features the titular character of endeavour morse as a much younger man (played by shaun evans), first as a constable and then a sergeant under the mentorship of one inspector thursday (roger allam). it's set in the 1960s and then early 1970s, which is executed very well! it's nine seasons long of about 3/4 episodes a season, each of them an hour and a half, which I find serves the show well in allowing more freedom for plot development and character dynamics.

I have enjoyed it very much and am currently mildly (extremely) obsessed with it, because it has a stellar combination of a) exemplary acting b) fantastic cinematography and atmosphere setting and c) adherence to the narrative.

in more detail:

morse himself is very much a character who cannot escape his own tragic fate because he brings it about himself, which is of course like catnip to me (love a character who brings his own doom!).

that, and the mildly codependent "we can't seem to part" relationship he has with thursday? delicious. initially of course the relationship is settled in a more mentor-mentee dynamic, though they instantly take a shine to each other (they just genuinely seem to like each other as people, despite their rank difference! they're two of a kind!) with morse as the mouthy, headstrong young man committed to justice and thursday as the experienced world war two veteran who tries to bring him in line while also fighting for that same cause: justice.

I'd argue they lose that dynamic pretty quickly (certainly by about S3), (though it was never particularly strong, given morse's sheer bloody-mindedness) establishing a much more equal footing with each other that's evident in the push and pull between them that starts becoming evident in S4 (ft. bickering) as morse comes into his own. I'll save any spoilers just in case you do decide to watch it, but! they aren't master and pupil — they're equals, and that adds so much more to the dynamic, I find, than a simple reading of them as teacher and student. there's the element of loyalty — thursday in his willingness to defend morse to superiors and morse in his...well, everything. he acknowledges thursday's faults and sticks to him despite his own iron morality. I'll add receipts to posts I made about this that sum it up better than I can manage typing this out sitting in a heatwave.

(here's the post concerning their devotion)

(and this textpost was also about them but it broke containment and now everyone thinks it's about hannibal)

further concerning the exploration of their morality intersecting with their loyalty:

anyway! it's a very good show! allam and evans have a spectacular dynamic as their respective characters, and both of them are incredible actors (evans in particular is of the precise facial expression journeys school, and manages to convey incredible depth and range of emotion, conflicting or not, in two seconds by the look on his face and body language. allam has a somewhat stage trained spin to playing thursday but he's equally brilliant at bringing depth and enormous complexity to a character that could so easily have become flat).

so, if you like to see:

- a miserable uppity twink growing up and becoming a middle aged man in spirit if not body

- said miserable little bastard being doomed from the start (he also gets progressively more miserable as the show goes on) (this will hurt) (it'll hurt a lot.)

- a deuteragonist straight out of a noir film; a family man who's seen the war and who comes to embody the violence he experienced against what he perceives as wrong

- protagonist and deuteragonist are basically textually the most important people in each other's lives and have the power to hurt each other like no one else (👍)

- the enormous ironies of the 1950s "family man"

- great atmosphere setting, wildly varying plots (for better and for worse, but it largely stays in the IMDB 8+ mark), brilliant supporting characters and cast

- acknowledgement of police corruption and brutality (the latter a complex issue, the former the main overarching plot of the show)

- constant parallel drawing and running threads of the narrative that you go "oh my GOD" at during the rewatch

...then this show is for you!

(...and thank you for reading all that)

#dear god you unleashed me #fixation time!!#thomas.text #endeavour #itv endeavour

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theaudiovore · 7 months

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For more than a year now I’ve had a concept for a single player TTRPG orbiting in the depths of my mind, slowly accumulating mass and occasionally passing into the Observable Universe that is my conscious mind.

A concept for an Elder Scrolls single player tabletop RPG.

In its present conception I imagine it to be played with some rules, paper and pencil, and a deck of playing cards.

In this game the player will start as a Prisoner, and through their own actions, divine intervention, and the weight of prophecy they will become a Hero.

They will meet their Doom and enter the Tower.

The Wheel turns.

The structure of play will be meant to resemble an Enantiomorphic Event, as all Elder Scrolls stories do.

The Three necessary elements are of course, a Prisoner, a King, and a Tower.

The Prisoner is the player, a person who by destiny or circumstance will rise to fullfill the role of Hero. The Eternal Champion, the Imperial Agent, the Nerevarine, the Hero of Kvatch and Champion of Cyrodiil, the Last Dragonborn, the Vestige. They are noone and come from nowhere, and so they can be anyone and go anywhere. They are Free in ways others are not, while simultaneously being shackled by their prophesied Doom.

The King is the antagonist, the threat to the wellbeing of the world and the people within it. Their power shakes the stones of the Tower and threatens to end the dream that is the Aurbis. Jagar Tharn, Zurin Arctus, Dagoth Ur, Mankar Camoran and Mehrunes Dagon, AL-DU-IN. They enter the story at the height of their power, and so they have nowhere to go but down. They see themselves as the Hero because their pride blinds them to the truth.

The Tower is the prison you must escape, the fortress you must siege, the secret you must learn. It is embodied in every obstacle, it is where you will always return, it is where Doom unfolds. The Staff of Chaos, NUMIDIUM, White Gold, Red Mountain, Snow Throat. It is both obstacle and objective, prison and protection.

I imagine the player character as a collection of Tags that grows as the game progresses. You’ll start by picking some Tags that represent your background, skill set, and Sign. Something like "Dunmer, Thief, Marksman, Charming, The Serpent” or “Nord, Warrior, Axe, Endurance, The Steed”.

Play proceeds by drawing cards from a deck of standard playing cards, 54 cards total with the Jokers included. Each suit would represent a type of encounter. You decide based on your tags and the story so far how the encounter goes, and sometimes you advance a clock. The Doom Clock.

Red suits represent opportunities and advantages. Diamonds for Material (Equipment, Magic, Relics, etc) and Hearts for Living Things (Creatures, Companions, Guilds, etc). Jokers represent divine intervention.

Black suits represent dangers and obstacles. Clubs for Material (Traps, Barriers, Curses, etc) and Spades for Living Things (Creatures, Bandits, Guards, etc).

Red Jokers represent Aedric forces like Yffre, Auri-El, and Mara. Black Jokers represent Daedric forces like Namira, Hircine. and Jyggalag.

You Draw a card and think about how your Tags let you resolve the situation it represents. Most of the time, you can choose to skip a card and ignore that encounter. Perhaps you decide that the danger is too great, perhaps your equipment is better than what you’ve found. Some cards cannot be skipped. Some events advance the Doom clock, bringing you closer to the final confrontation. Some cards advance the Doom Clock even if you skip them.

The Doom Clock represents the passage of time, your steady march to the finale. The Prisoner always confronts the King eventually. It always happens that way. Time is a living being, and while AKA is patient he cannot stay still for long. While the world waits for you, it does not wait forever.

I don’t have much beyond these concepts yet, but I have been thinking about this a lot. I know I want to explore things like Fate, the Aurbic Pattern, Duality, and the Cyclical Nature of Time. I know I want to include elements of the strange deep lore and apocryphal texts that make up the internal mythology of The Elder Scrolls. I know I want to reach for the sensation of a lonely exploration, of being burdened by prophecy, of being the one that the whole world waits on, the axle that the world turns around.

Something I need to do is play games that may share tonal or mechanical elements with what I want to achieve. In my ~20 years in the tabletop roleplaying hobby I have spent the vast majority of that time with various editions of The Dragon Game and others of its style. It is only in the past 5 years or so I’ve been expanding my breadth of experience, seeking out other styles and modes of play. This thing I want to make is outside my current sphere of competence, so I must increase my reach to match my grasp.

#the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #ttrpg #ttrpg design #diceless ttrpg #arena #daggerfall #morrowind #oblivion #skyrim #eso #elder scrolls online #is mai'q the liar a jack of hearts?#or is mai'q a red joker?#depends on who you ask

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chipotle-aristotle-sonz · 6 months

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The Plight of the First-born Son

Pressure doesn't always lead to the creation of diamonds. Or, in which Aegon is crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms. ----- “What kind of a brother steals his sister’s birthright?”

Dialogue from House of the Dragon and Fire and Blood by George R. R. Martin is used.

3.8k words.

Spoilers for future events in hotd!!!

Wow, what a depraved loser lol

Aegon's character is much more complex than it is depicted in the show (as of yet). So, as seen here, I have a headcanon that Aegon really tries to be a decent King until Blood and Cheese happens. I've also elected to ignore the moment when Rhaenys comes up through the floor on Meleys because wtf. So the beast Helaena is referring to is Aegon and B&C, and not the dragon Meleys.

@/joobobby on ao3!

---

“Aegon at first refused to be a part of his mother's plans to crown him, insisting Rhaenyra was heir. However, Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, convinced him that should Rhaenyra take the throne, Aegon and his brothers would be executed. Eustace insists that only this persuaded him to take the crown.” (A Wiki of Ice and Fire)

Aegon lay there shrouded in darkness, drifting in and out of consciousness, his favoured Arbor red wine warming his belly and fogging his mind.

The shrine the prince was stashed under by the White Worm was uncomfortable, but he was too inebriated to care. It was better, safer than being in the castle. There, he was free of the eyes of his family, of his mother. There, he was free to drink himself to death; a sinful wastrel, shielded from his doom under the watchful and judging eyes of the Gods.

‘Their gaze still remains kinder than that of Mother’s.’

Just as Aegon was finally and mercifully granted his ever-desired peaceless sleep, he was ripped from the safety of his hiding spot in the Grand Sept by two pairs of hands.

‘It seems even the Gods cannot bring themselves to favour me.’

The stumbling prince, with a mind still heavily affected by his syrupy sweet poison, and eyes struggling to adjust to the light of the Sept, was held up and jostled about by the twins: Sers Arryk and Erryk Cargyll, Knights of the Kingsguard.

“Where is the White Worm?” The prince muttered with a shaky voice as panic began to settle in him.

“She sold you for a price,” one of the twins replied, struggling to keep him still. The drunkard was certain he was going to be sick if they kept this up. ‘Just keep me fucking still at least.’

“And why have you paid it?” Aegon said with a pained and slurred voice, his mind still far too sluggish and stuck on the betrayal. He needed to feel safe again, to feel some form of comfort. As the twins failed to answer, he began to wonder if a single soul was willing to favour him just once. Or if he even deserved to be favoured, protected.

“I want my mother.”

‘The mother who hates you, hits you, is disgraced by your very being, and claims that you are no son of hers?’

/////

As the two renowned knights dragged and pushed the future King through the great doors of the Grand Sept and to his fate, Aegon froze. The prince, who could barely stand on his own two feet in his current predicament, saw his golden opportunity to escape their clutches, in the form of none other than his mother’s two golden boys.

There, before the warring trio, stood the fearsome Prince Aemond “One-Eye”, younger brother to Aegon, and Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsguard.

Elation took over, and Aegon suddenly elbowed the twins, leaving them to Ser Criston. He fled, a crazed giggle escaping him as he zig-zagged his way down the steps and toward his freedom… Short-lived freedom.

‘Fucking Aemond.’

His younger brother, much taller than he, tackled him to the ground.

Aegon, still consumed by his fit of manic giggles, thought that this must look ridiculous to any onlookers. Two Targaryen princes, one to be crowned King and supposed to be the very image of power and royalty, rolling about on the ground, both trying to gain the upper hand. ‘Do I strike the image of Aegon the Conqueror?’

“I was hoping you disappeared,” drawled Aemond “One-Eye”, ever the good soldier and perfect son, tasked with the burden of searching for his drunken fool of a brother. ‘The pompous twat can’t even bring himself to look at me.’

“Is our father truly dead?”

“Yes. And they’re going to make you king,” he spat back, holding Aegon down with ease, his usually carefully coiffed hair unkempt. ‘Not so perfect now,’ Aegon thought, bitter and spiteful glee consuming him. And Aegon, ever the menace and in an attempt to escape him, spat in Aemond’s remaining eye. Cruel satisfaction took over as he heard Aemond let out a loud sound of disgust and annoyance, and he got to his feet. Yet again, in vain.

“Let me go!” He screamed and struggled against Aemond’s arms, desperation slowly overcoming him, “Brother!”

The prince could not stop screaming, pleading for Aemond to release him. ‘I cannot rule, brother, please! Surely you must see this too.’

“I have no wish to rule! I have no taste for duty, I’m not suited!”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” came his voice from behind him. And, in a frantic last-resort effort, Aegon whirls around in his little brother’s arms and grasps his face in his hands, cradling him and begging for him to see reason.

“Let me go, and I’ll find a ship and sail away, never to be found,” he implored, certain he resembled a madman. Aegon knew he had no real right to ask this of him. For the two Targaryen princes never really knew or understood each other enough for love to be felt. In truth, Love seemed to be a mere obligation for the Targaryen royal family. Alas, the first-born son was desperate. And he would plead to the little brother he could’ve adored for his freedom.

They remained like that for a few moments. ‘There,’ Aegon thought, as hope overcame him. There, as they stood and stared at each other, Aegon saw the seeds of temptation take root in his brother’s mind. Aegon could feel another fit of deranged laughter bubbling up inside as he saw the prospect of a new life start to take shape in his mind. A life free of his family and a life for his family, free of him. He watched with bated breath as the ever-dutiful son flirted with the alluring opportunity to have what he, as the second-born son, could never have; what he's always wanted. Power, success, and respect that he didn’t need to work tirelessly to gain… The Iron Throne practically in his grasp. ‘Let this be my gift to you, little brother. We were unable to find common ground growing up. Let this be proof enough that, if born and raised in different circumstances, I could’ve loved you as you were and are. You were always more suited for the responsibilities of being King… Even Mother believes it to be true… Perhaps I only ever envied you.’

But alas, it really did seem that even the merciful Seven could not bring themselves to shine their light upon the soon-to-be Usurper King.

Ser Criston Cole, victorious in the confrontation with the twins, approached the two princes, placing a hand on Aegon’s shoulder.

“The Queen awaits,” Criston said, ever Her Grace’s loyal lap dog. ‘Do you never tire of being my mother’s bitch, Cole?’

Aegon had to quickly compose himself as he felt a rapidly forming lump in his throat, “Rhaenyra is heir to the throne, not me, Cole. What kind of a brother steals his sister’s birthright?” he spat, the realisation that he would still be crowned making him pale. ‘Maybe if I throw up on them, I could escape. Tempting.’

“The kind of brother who would not wish for his brothers, sister-wife, mayhaps even children to be put to the sword, my Prince. The Bitch Queen would not hesitate to execute you all if it meant ridding herself of any challenge to her and her bastard’s succession. I am afraid you must come back to the castle, willingly or not. These are the Queen’s orders.”

And as all memories, ‘Or lack thereof’, of himself, his family and Rhaenyra came rushing to the surface, Aegon the Usurper found himself being guided by Ser Criston and Aemond back to the Red Keep. ‘She’s never truly liked us, that much is evident… Please, at least try to forgive me, sister.’

(Another relationship gutted by the cursed steel of the Iron Throne.)

/////

The rest of that fateful day was a foggy mess to Aegon. He could vaguely remember being force-fed some bread, and the rest of his memories are of him and Helaena just sitting in awkward, heavy silence, both preparing to meet their maker on the morrow. ‘Crowned King and Queen of Westeros before the eyes of thousands. Both not wanting the burden… Well, there is no telling or saying with certainty what Helaena ever wants; perhaps aside from more bugs to fill her collection and the void in her lonely heart.’

On the day of the coronation, Aegon found himself slumped in a carriage alongside his mother, the now-Dowager Queen Alicent, staring blankly at the bleak wall, hungover and ready to face his doom.

“Have the decency to look grateful. Do you know what has been done to give you this day?” Queen Alicent began, leaning over to converse with the son she loved dearly but could not bring herself to like, “In an hour you will be King.”

“And my father never wanted this.”

“That’s not true,” she sighed, sounding exhausted. (The cloak of righteousness weighs heavy on the shoulders and heart, Lady Hightower.)

(“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.”)

“He had twenty years to name me heir and never did. Steadfastly, he upheld Rhaenyra’s claim,” he said, a disbelieving smile slowly making its way onto his face.

“He changed his mind.”

“No,” Aegon chuckled, unable to accept or begin to comprehend his mother’s delusions, “No, he could have but he never did. Because he didn’t like me.”

‘Because he really didn’t like me. Could never even bother to give me or any of us the time of day.’

Alicent at least had the decency to soften her gaze, a part of her well aware of Viserys’ lack of desire to bond with his children by her. (‘I could never be his first wife Aemma. You could never be his first-born Rhaenyra’), “And yet, with his final breath, he whispered to me that you should take his place on the throne.”

Aegon had to look away when faced with the absolute lunacy of her claim, still chuckling with unshed tears in his eyes.

‘He couldn’t even bring himself to feel a shred of worry when Rhaenyra’s bastard attacked Aemond and cut his eye out, Mother. Rather preferring to shout at Aemond and I for calling them bastards… which they are. We were yelled at, and the little princeling, Luke who removed Aemond’s eye, got nothing. You had to take justice into your own hands to protect your son from your husband’s idiocy. Do you not recall this, Mother?’

His train of thought was interrupted when Alicent offered him a box; inside, his father’s dagger lay on soft velvet, gleaming at him. ‘The dagger you grasped when you ran at Rhaenyra, demanding for the debt to be paid. To protect your golden boy.’

“Do not toy with me, Mother,” he muttered, a warning, a plea on his tongue.

“I speak the truth,” she whispered, begging for him to believe her.

(She had had enough of being made to look like a fool and crazed woman by her husband. ‘He spoke to me of a male babe, born to him, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. A babe I gave him. Not Aemma. Me.’)

With his mouth slightly agape, Aegon hesitantly yet gently took hold of the dagger, smiling in both disbelief and joy. The joy belonging to the young boy he mourned daily. The boy, greedy and eager to accept any morsel of his father’s love and acceptance offered to him.

The boy soon-to-be King was so elated and dubious, that he was unable to even fully listen to his mother’s ramblings about not ruling with cruelty and callousness, and sparing Rhaenyra. The obvious tension between their half-sister and their mother never went unnoticed by Aegon and his siblings.

(Alicent had often looked as though she had seen a ghost, the voice of a young girl expressing her desire to fly with her on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake becoming too all-encompassing.)

As she continued, a question, the question to end all questions nagged at him.

‘Before you charged at Rhaenyra in defence of your son, you slapped me and yelled at me for not being with Aemond, for not protecting him, when I was nowhere near the scene of the crime.

‘You grabbed my face and screamed at me that I was the challenge to Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne, simply by living and breathing. Simply by being born, by being alive.

‘You slapped me and claimed with certainty and scorn that I was no son of yours. I cried that I have always tried so hard, but I would never ever be enough for you or Father.’

“Do you love me?” He asked hesitantly, with unshed tears in his eyes.

And the first-born son waited with bated breath for his beloved mother’s reply.

‘Please. I implore you, say, “Yes, of course I do. You are my son. I love you. I am sorry.” Please, mother.’

“You imbecile.” (‘Yes, of course I do. You are my son.’)

(Love is the death of Duty, and Duty is the death of Love, Lady Hightower. Which do you favour?)

/////

The Dragonpit was cold, dark, and damp, the familiar setting did nothing to quell the dread in the spouses' hearts. Helaena had ridden with Otto and Aemond, and there she stood stiffly next to Aegon, her brother-husband, nervously fiddling with her hands and picking at her skin.

Aegon, though experiencing the sinking feeling of unease, was distracted from descending into further madness by Helaena’s mumblings of, “Beware the beast beneath the boards.”

When he had the patience for her (‘and for life without the sweet release of alcohol’), he would oft wonder what she saw in these times. ‘Can anyone help? Do you experience clear visions? No, if you did, you would make more sense. You would turn it into advice and not pathetic and unsettling mumblings.’

(Helaena could hear the screams of hundreds, of thousands. Men, women, and children. She felt paralysing grief, pain, and anger. She could see and taste red, blood, ‘Too much blood’.)

The siblings were both startled out of their thoughts by the sound of applause, swiftly followed by trumpets, the piercing sound cutting through the air and drawing blood. Helaena let out a small sound of displeasure before covering her ears, and screwing her eyes shut. They had heard the faint echoes of their grandsire’s booming voice, Otto Hightower, speaking to the thousands of smallfolk crammed into the Dragonpit; readying them to welcome their future King and Queen Consort.

The murmuring and the shuffling heard were sign enough for Aegon to quietly whisper to his sister that they were required to walk (‘To our deaths’). Helaena let out a shaky breath, before turning towards her husband.

‘My troubled sister, my beautifully sad wife, the mother to my children, my burden, and my could’ve-been pride and supporter.’

(‘My troubled brother, my drunken husband, my tormentor, and my could’ve-been love and supporter.’)

The two Targaryen royals stared at each other, their flaws of no importance at that moment. Helaena tentatively grasped his shaking hand with hers.

And together they walked to the executioner’s block, through the carefully choreographed archway of swords, with tears in their eyes and resignation written on their faces. Helaena tilted her head downwards, staring at her feet, desperate to ignore all the eyes on her, and Aegon held his high, staring at his family standing on the platform. Gods on a pedestal.

Aemond: the rigid and unmoving soldier and striking the image of the Warrior, face set in stone and gaze soft as he stared at Helaena. ‘Ever the fierce protector, never acknowledged for it’.

Mother: pious, proud, and perturbed.

(She could hear the voice of a young girl expressing her desire to fly with her on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.

‘My children… This is for you.’)

Grandfather: cunning and victorious; a second son awarded the Iron Throne. A Hightower gifted Targaryen greatness.

Helaena felt sick; Aegon’s tears had long fallen. The Usurper held his head high, staring at his family with both a wild anger and a fierce determination to make them proud.

“It is your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this: a new day for our city. A new day for our Realm. A new King to lead us,” Otto’s voice boomed, a sick and poisonous pride in his eyes. Aegon and Helaena had finished their walk, finally reaching the platform after what seemed an eternity.

The Dowager Queen placed kisses upon their foreheads. (May the Father judge you justly and protect you: his children. May the Mother guide you, shield you, and love you.) Otto nodded to his grandson and placed a comforting hand on his granddaughter's shoulder. Aemond stared as Helaena flinched. (‘She does not always welcome physical contact. Leave her be.’)

As Aegon knelt before Ser Criston, he was struck with the sudden image of his head meeting the sharp edge of Criston’s sword. ‘Executed before the masses and the eyes of the Gods for being a depraved, drunken lecher and an undeserving fool.’

“The crown of the Conqueror passed down through generations. Let the Seven bear witness. Aegon Targaryen is the true Heir to the Iron Throne,” shouted Criston, placing the black crown adorned with rubies upon Aegon’s head with the blessing of the Septon.

Alicent Hightower crowned Helaena with a similar yet smaller circlet of dark metal and blood-red rubies and gifted her with another kiss on her forehead after hearing her low ramblings of, “Beware the beast beneath the boards.” (‘You are beyond my understanding, sweet girl.’)

The spouses stood together again, and Aegon noted the sad and apprehensive look on his wife’s face as they looked to their family members to bow their heads and accept them as their new King and Queen Consort. Her mutterings were becoming more frequent, and her nails were practically ripped of their skin.

“All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, and Her Grace, Helaena, Queen Consort, and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms!”

Aegon and Helaena slowly turned, rigid and separate as Otto Hightower announced them to the smallfolk. The bells chimed. ‘The bells of The Stranger, the call of Death.’

“Aegon the King!” bellowed Ser Criston, bowing his head.

Heavy, suffocating silence ensued, the stuffy air in the Dragonpit making it hard to breathe. He could feel Helaena growing restless next to him. But then… applause.

Wild applause broke out, and cries of, “King Aegon!”, “Queen Helaena!” and, “Long live the King!” could be heard. Aegon found himself shocked but exhilarated. The cries, the smiles, the tears, little children perched on their parents’ shoulders and waving to royalty. ‘This… this is what it feels like to be loved without expectations, without regret, anger, sadness, or fear. Without conditions to be met. They don’t know me and they love me for me.’

Aegon made a show of unsheathing the Conqueror’s sword, Blackfyre, and raised the mighty weapon, a small smile grazing his face and his confidence growing. He almost felt drunk. ‘Maybe I can do this... I will try. I will try to do good by you’.

The last piece of the puzzle was grasping onto Helaena’s, his Queen’s, hand and raising it up high. The applause and cheers only grew in grandeur, much like him. ‘Forgive me for the sudden contact, sister, but they love you.’

(‘Beware the beast beneath the boards.’)

(Aegon, the beast, ripped from beneath his shrine and to be marched to the executioner’s block.)

/////

Her crown was removed with shaking hands and placed on the table with a loud clunk. Helaena, his Queen, looked at the cursed circlet with apprehension and resignation. ‘She has accepted her lot in life,’ Aegon mused, trying not to feel irritated by her continued ramblings, ‘She does not yet understand this blessing, but she will, in time.’

(Helaena could hear the screams of hundreds, of thousands. Men, women, and children. She felt paralysing grief, pain, and anger. She could see and taste red, blood. ‘I have usurped my sister’s throne… Beware the beast beneath the boards. Beware the beast that roams the skies. Beware the beasts that maim, hurt, and kill. Dragons of flesh. The flesh of dragons. Death’s Dance is relentless and unkind.’)

After the coronation ceremony, the newly crowned King and Queen mounted their dragons, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, and flew circuits around the city of King’s Landing, to show the smallfolk who couldn’t be crammed into the Dragonpit that they had a new King to lead them.

Now, there they stood, in their chambers, staring at the weighty crown and what it represented.

One believing it to be a gift, the other a damning curse.

After a while, Aegon finally realised that her mumblings were only getting worse with her distress. With a sigh, he said, “I know what we can do. We can go to the nursery and stay with the children. They always make you feel better,” with a small smile, feeling as though he were speaking to a child. His mother used to pull him and Aemond aside when they were younger, telling them that Helaena’s mind doesn’t work in the same way as theirs. (“Tread lightly, little ones. She isn’t to be blamed for speaking in riddles”).

In truth, Aegon had never been quite patient with her. But it was a time of new beginnings. ‘I will try. I will try to do good by you, sister.’

“Let us see Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor. They will love to see their mother,” Aegon the Usurper said softly. When she raised her head, a moment of fleeting sadness crossed her face before she regained her spark, a smile grazing her face and her murmurs growing less frequent. Unsure of himself and in unfamiliar territory, he tentatively cradled her face, wiping some drying tears from her cheeks. ‘My beautifully sad wife. You do not yet understand this blessing, but you will, in time.'

(‘Beware the beast beneath the boards.’)

(Blood and Cheese, one a butcher, the other a ratcatcher, familiar with the secret passageways and tunnels of the Red Keep. Together, ordered by Daemon Targaryen, they were to slay six-year-old Jaehaerys, King Aegon’s and Queen Helaena’s first-born son, in retaliation to the Prince Lucerys' death at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

A Son for a Son.)

–

(The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself.)

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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just-some-guy-joust · 11 months

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Posting my own propaganda; I did NOT write a (soon to be) 100k fic about Lyf to let them die here

(Although a quick note before I dive in- reminder that if you can get a perfect 50/50 they can move together as a team!!!! Since this is the most votes any of the polls have as of now, I'll allow a tiiiiny bit of leeway in either direction as well)

Wider necessary context: The Mechanisms (in universe) are a group of space pirates who tell the stories they come across in the format of narration-song-narration-song-etc albums. These stories are always gruesome, over the top, and always always end in tragedy.

Your sister dies before your eyes after 40 years of being made to serve a role in a war you hate, with only a few seconds to live again before being cut down yourself. You win the war, but what else is there left behind?

You finally find the one thing needed to save your city from endless capitalistic destruction, and yet you die before you can share it with the world. Maybe they didn't deserve it anyway.

You work your whole life to bring together the two different tribes of your own world only to become disillusioned to the cold hatred of your people. You destroy everything because what else is there left that's even worth saving?

Time and time again, things end the same way. Death, destruction, and only a handful of survivors if you're lucky. These three aren't even the only examples, these are just the longer albums. Even the individual songs end this way, just on a smaller scale.

So when The Bifrost Incident begins, you already know how the story ends. But the characters don't.

It breaks the rules of the narrative right from the very first second. For the first time, a character in the story is narrating it, rather than a Mech as an outsider perspective. They are introduced as Lyfrassir Edda, investigating the disappearance of a train, and in this first narration they tell you exactly how it ends. No remains were found other than the engine room, and "a couple of warped skeletons." Every single person on that train dies.

The only thing Lyf can do is try to work out how it happened. They go through the remaining security recordings, keeping track of the characters and where they go. There's nothing they can do to prevent these events, they can only stand back and watch as they unfold.

Another Mech narrative device that is broken here is that every previous album took classic public domain melodies to use for their songs. The Bifrost Incident is the first (and as far as I'm aware, only) instance of them using purely original music. Even from the beginning everything feels...off.

Lyf eventually unlocks the secrets of the footage, past a point of no return. The passengers on the train, the ones they'd been watching this whole time, did not cause its destruction. The once simple murder mystery turns eldritch horror, and the usual narration-song-narration format is shattered as 5 high-energy songs in a row describe the fate of the train.

Everyone on that train is doomed. There are two full songs describing their demises, ones they cannot escape or prevent. Lyf can only watch as things get worse, until eventually the only remaining living passengers decide what they have to do: take advantage of the blood ritual keeping the train moving to delay its arrival to the station Lyf found it at.

"They cannot prevent what they have touched following them into our world, but they can delay it. Keep the train on the track as long as possible."

There is no stopping this. And Lyf then realizes what seeing this footage means. The train has arrived. It's even taken them a few days to review the footage. Every second that passes brings them, everyone they know and love, and their entire star system, closer to its inevitable destruction.

There isn't a single thing they can do in their narrative other than discover just how impossible it is to escape it. And they do try, they're the only character that ever learns of this, and they flee. It is unknown whether or not they survive.

Nobody else does. And despite all their efforts, there wasn't a single thing they could do to stop it.

#sorry im autistic do you still think im cute #doomed by the narrative showdown #curtain call #-R #the mechanisms #yes im main tagging this because im right

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getouswh0re · 3 years

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pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, blood & gore, mass murdering, obsession, slight manga spoilers

synopsis: he would tear the entire world apart with his own hands, just to keep you by his side evermore.

****************************************************

Love is a lethal bliss.

Bearing semblance to momentary sweetness, it warms the cockles of your heart; yet before one could even savour it for long, in its honey-like aftertaste is a deadly poison — seeping through the branching veins and killing every cell of the living host within its reach. Soundlessly, life is sucked out as one discovers themselves teetering on a tightrope of death.

i) The ambience of the atmosphere between you and Gojo is silent, deadly — akin to the calming weather before a raging storm. As the two of you stand at opposite ends of the living room, eyes refusing to meet with the sorcerer’s as an expanse of sky blue smoulders holes into your soul. Feeling your limbs trembling from the intensity of his stare, cat got your tongue. The words you’ve meant to say are stuck at the back of your throat as the taller male shifts a step forward, and you unconsciously leaning back against the wall.

“Do we have to do this love?” You cringe at the feigned pain interlaced in your ex’s tone. “You know you don’t have to do this. This is painful for both you and I, and knowing how much you love me, you certainly don’t want to put both of us through all of this. Don’t you?”

You bite your lip, eyes downcast.

You wish all of this isn’t necessary, that everything that has happened is nothing more than your imagination regarding the red flags displayed before your periphery. Still, you have to do it having mulled over it for a while. It is about time that all of this come to an end.

Ever since a certain man called Gojo Satoru meandered into your life, everything changed as your feelings for the male blossomed, like fresh buds on the bare branches with remnants of snow thawing into tinges of spring. It didn’t take long for the two of you to reciprocate one another’s feelings, yet cracks gradually surface on what seemed like an all-too-perfect fairy tale, breaking the crystal ball of illusion that you had been trapped in throughout all these months.

For as long as you could remember, Gojo has been acting out of character; sure enough he retains his childish personality and insufferable god complex, yet there are times when you could barely recognise him. On occasions he would whine for hours, desperate to gain your attention, and there were moments when he’d follow wherever you went. Initially dismissing his clinginess as his way of displaying affection, you didn’t think much about it. That was until his demeanour underwent a 180 degree shift; being overbearing was one thing, yet the sorcerer had the audacity to dictate your life and your social circle, stepping his foot way past the boundaries that even you thought was too much.

It wasn’t like you didn’t give Gojo an opportunity to change for the better. You did; it was him who failed to reflect on his own mistakes, to take things for granted without realising he had been in the wrong all along. With those alarming signs of the relationship spiralling into a toxic one, it occurred to you that you should end things fast before circumstances aggravated.

Love is a beautiful pain.

To relish its fleeting vestiges between their fingertips, one must endure the torment of its thorns. Not everyone has the courage to sacrifice their sanity for something so transient, but one — or maybe few, who are more than willing to pay for their price, would do anything to hold onto such evanescent reminisces close to their heart.

ii) “Come on y/n. You know you don’t want to break up with me, stop lying to your heart.”

As if his saccharine smile isn’t enough to make bile surge up your throat, the lovelorn white-haired man stares at you with such adoration, making you revolted than ever; before you could even blink, he is already inches away, bringing up his slender fingers and caressing your cheeks with utter delicacy.

“From the moment we met, it’s like the red strings of fate intertwining, akin to two worlds colliding.”

Feeling his breath tickling your frigid neck, goosebumps laminate your skin as you shudder underneath his lasting touches.

“Your heart belongs to me, and mine yours. It’s like the universe wants the two of us to be together — forever. Just stop denying your feelings, okay? I can hear your heartbeat ... it’s beating crazy, just for me.”

“Gojo, you need to stop all of this —“

“Oh honey, don’t say that ... I know the look in those eyes.” He presses on, his insufferable ego refusing to give in. “You might be pushing me away, but your body does the exact opposite. You’re still in love with me. You care for me, I know you do.”

Perhaps that is what makes terrifying about the sorcerer. Wearing his usual smile on a deceptively charming face, his true thoughts are inscrutable beneath the unfazed facade; worst of all, you never know what would drive him off the edge, not until you experience triggering a ticking time bomb by accident.

“Gojo, hear me out.” You push the towering male away, determined than ever to cut ties with him for the sake of your own safety. “What you do is not love anymore. It’s ... obsession! And it’s suffocating me! If you truly cared about me you would’ve respected my wishes and opinions — but you didn’t. No matter how much you love someone, this is far beyond acceptable. I ... we need to break up, for the sake of both of us.”

Stunned, the remnants of hope flicker in the sorcerer’s azure eyes before dissipating into darkness, along with his despondent heart that has plummeted into abysmal depths of a bottomless void. Hands retracting from your skin, you heave out a sigh of relief when spine-chilling chortles echo from Gojo’s throat.

“You think that’s it? That I’ll let you go?” The crazed glint in his burning stare convinces you even more that breaking up with this delusional man is the only option to save yourself. Slowly backing towards the door, you have prepared yourself for the worst, making a potential run with a bag filled with your valuables.

“You cannot run away from me y/n! You know you can never escape from me. I will flip the world upside down to find you — and hunt you down! Want me to prove that? I will tear the entire world apart by my hands, just so that you won’t run away from me anymore!”

You finally make your run, sprinting out of your shared apartment as fast as you could whilst ignoring his shrilling screams, deciding to leave everything behind for good.

Love is an unprecedented enigma.

Like a never-ending Möbius strip, the red strings of fate intertwines people's fates — yet at the same time, it looms over everyone's lives like a doom of death, mercilessly tearing loved ones or those held dear to their hearts apart within the blink of an eye. Callous as it seems, it reminds people how minuscule acts of gratitude allow them to appreciate the present before they lament or carry their regrets later on in life. Unfortunately, with the complexity of destiny, nobody could ever foresee when karma would dawn upon their heads. Not even you.

Little would you know that doomsday would be awaiting you so soon.

iii) For what feels like going through hell and back, you finally manage to rid yourself out of the psychotic sorcerer's hands and his devious manipulation. For what it’s worth, there is no guarantee about your life returning to normal. Knowing that it is nearly impossible to escape from Gojo (knowing that his sixth eyes can instantly locate where you are), you eventually make the decision of moving away with a heavy heart, considering that it would be what it’s best to solve your issues with your controlling ex.

Having settled the documents and errands, all that’s left is for you to leave the place filled with nothing other than sad memories. As if it seems like a fresh start is extending its outstretched hands towards you, freedom is just within hand’s reach.

Not until all hell breaks loose on October 31st — the day of your departure.

Copper tinges beckon indigo skies at twilight, remnants of the setting sun shining through the windows as you take a last, rueful look at the apartment you’ve resided most of your life before grabbing your belongings and heading towards the train station. With the day being Halloween, it isn’t surprising at all that the streets would be crowded, flooded with jovial citizens who want to enjoy themselves during the spooky season. All you have to do is make your way onto the designated train.

Yet that never happened, because havoc descends among the living like a catastrophic plague.

Just as you writhe your way through the streets and making your way towards the train station, screams erupt when a massive quake demolish the surrounding buildings into shambles, tearing the festive merriment in the atmosphere apart as people turn and run in all directions without warning — leaving you extremely perplexed about the current state of Shibuya. Horror is evident in every onlooker’s eyes whilst they dash for shelter; the city is in absolute chaos — danger looming, asphalt pavements ensanguined with blood, distressed cries resonating into the night.

“Hey!” You call out, grabbing onto a random passerby. “What the hell happened?”

“Danger ... curses ... sorcerer —“

Your blood run cold upon the mentioning, and it didn’t take long for you to figure out the entire situation and who has been responsible. In hindsight, you should’ve had followed the rest and ran away from the scene immediately, but you don’t — standing there amongst the quiet streets in utter terror. And before you could even lift your legs and sprint for your life, there he is, stained from head to toe in blood — an inebriated stare full of nothing but infatuation for you.

“Honey! There you are ...” Skipping over mountains of corpses humming a joyful tune, Gojo happily pulls you into his chest, nestling his face against your squirming shoulders, his grip a vice against your futile efforts of struggling to break free. “I was so worried about you ever since you left! I ... I feel like my world is falling apart, and I just cannot live without you you know!”

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!”

The sorcerer chortles at your demand, ignoring your protests as he hugs you closer to his throbbing heart.

“Darling ... we could’ve been so happy together. Yet you have to do all of this. For what? If you had given me your heart and soul, none of this would’ve happened —“

“Oh, so this is my fucking problem now?” You hiss, shoving the taller male off. “You really are crazy — Gojo Satoru. But I never regret the decision I’ve made, and I will do it again and again if I need to!”

That is when he activates his domain expansion.

All of your sudden, your mind is a blank — staring into the sorcerer’s cerulean eyes as it overwhelms you like a raging hurricane, sucking you deeper and deeper until your entirety sinks into his infinite void. For once you finally fear the strongest man on earth — of the dangers he possesses and what would’ve happened had he decided to break your mind the hard way.

“To be honest, I don’t care ~” Silent tears roll down your cheeks once you recognise the drop in the man’s usual carefree tone, feeling the remnants of sanity being ruthlessly stripped away from you as you fall limp in Gojo’s loving arms.

“The seas can rage, the heavens will rumble. But no matter what happens, I’m never going to let any of this take you away from me — for you and I are the honoured ones, destined to be together ...”

With his voice dwindling to a hushed whisper, the sorcerer slips a shimmering ring onto your finger, declaring in utmost adoration his vows of undying love.

“In time and evermore.”

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stardusttandstories · 3 years

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“Don’t go to Hill Top Road again.” aka Lines That Already Hit Different In Hindsight That I’m Sure Will Destroy Me Tomorrow

(mostly under the cut because i decided to relisten to all the web statements to prime myself for whatever pain jonny has in store for tomorrow

“Can you be haunted by the ghost of a spider that destroyed your childhood?”

- Arachnophobia

“I was returning to Hill Top Road, no matter what I might feel about it. Choice didn’t even come into it. The door was unlocked when I returned, and the house was quiet. My eyes darted around, looking for anyone who might be able to tell me what was going on, why the fine threads that pulled me through my life had dragged me back here. But I was alone.”

- Recluse

“The first of the dark powers to touch me, perhaps, but it did not claim me.”

- A Guest For Mr. Spider

“The feeling I have been living with my whole life, that if that poor idiot hadn’t gotten involved he would still be alive. A strange conviction that, if I had been able to face that thing myself, maybe I could have saved him. Stopped it.”

- A Guest For Mr. Spider

“What struck him about it, though, was the utter absence of anything resembling a hero or protagonist. No one fought against the monster. And although there were vignettes in the lives of those under the spider’s shadow, they all ended the exact same way: with the character in question marching slowly and calmly into its waiting jaws.”

- Creature Feature

“But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks.”

- Far Away

“He wouldn’t be breaking any contract, and the client hardly ever even gets in touch. There is no reason he couldn’t just walk away, but I honestly don’t think he ever will. And I really don’t know how it’s going to end for him.”

- Web Development

“I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I’d - very much like to go home.”

- The Puppeteer

“I’m stronger now, tougher, I can - If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever? I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe - stop that happening, and the only danger is to me, I - I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster.”

- The Puppeteer

“[…] a string pulled by the Ceaseless Watcher or the Mother of Puppets? Or both?”

- Weaver

“But by then you’re away; the roller coaster is dropping, and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that – I don’t crash you.”

- Weaver

“I’ve simply been… watching. I’m sure you understand that. Maybe I’ve occasionally been nudging something here and there to keep you safe, to keep everything on track. But I know you’ve been more worried about your choices, about whether you’re being controlled by me, or by the Mother. So I thought perhaps I should leave a little something to reassure you that, yes, your actions and choices have all been your own. […] if you choose to believe in a free will, then yes: All you have done has been of your own free will. They have all been your choices.”

- Weaver

“I will simply say that – when a spider reaches a certain size, it is often not entirely made up of spider anymore.”

- Weaver

“…if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins.”

- Extended Surveillance

“And certainly the Spider smoothed things, elided questions, wiped away evidence, but it barely had to. Far better to feed Gertrude a steady string of plans to foil and rituals to derail.”

- Curiosity

“W-Without trust. W-Without a reason. Gertrude needed both the purpose her mission gave her and the control her position allowed. To be here, like us, without a – a reason, without someone to ground her? She – She’d have power, but – no control. No real purpose. Perhaps she’d have dedicated herself to a d-doomed quest like us but – (quieter, contemplative) No. I think this would have broken her. And she’d have resigned herself to – ruling her domain.”

- Curiosity

“THE SPIDER, offstage: “Then walk away, Francis, just turn and leave. All that is required is a little bit of willpower. You have a little bit of willpower, don’t you?” […] FRANCIS simply screams in response. It is a scream of anger as much as it is of pain, and it cannot hide the dreadful inevitability they feel. The dull terror that this act will end like all the others.”

- Strung Out

“There is no escape to be found here, no respite from the charade that is now found to be the sum of FRANCIS’s existence. By now, FRANCIS knows with utter clarity what falling to the call will bring, the awful crawling fate that they will endure before the next act eventually begins.”

- Strung Out

Shoutout and thank you to @tmatranscripts because there was no way I could type fast enough to note these as i listened but copy paste is a wonderful thing!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #the web #catch me vibrating with excitement and fear

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my-mt-heart · 3 years

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TWD 11x03 “Hunted” Review

I enjoyed this one so much more than the previous two, and I fully acknowledge that might have a lot to do with getting Carol back, but also, it just felt as close to grounded as a TWD story is ever going to get anymore. Emotions are high, both hopeful and heartbreaking with running themes like struggling for control, making hard choices, and second guessing those hard choices. Additionally, there’s a very interesting callback that has my Caryl senses tingling.

More on that later, but first let’s talk about the opening. Though the episode as a whole remains grounded, the first few minutes actually stand out as very cartoonish to me. I get that Angela’s style is geared more towards creating a live-action comic book, but it’s just a little jarring for my personal taste. In quick flashes, we see that the Reapers cannot be outmatched. It’s almost unrealistic how skilled they are, but again, we’re seeing a version of them that feels synonymous with comic book villains rather than the version hinted at in 10x17, where they simply had military training. Regardless, it’s a chaotic atmosphere. Daryl and Dog chase a Reaper into the woods, and that’s all we see of them. Everyone else seems to be getting picked off one after another. After taking a knife to his leg and getting his hand sliced off in the previous episode, the final blow is delivered to Cole in the form of a good, old-fashioned throat slash. Bye, Cole. We hardly knew you. The other people in Maggie’s group get injured. Negan gets injured (but makes a remarkable recovery somehow). Father Gabriel gets injured. Elijah helps Maggie escape one of the Reapers’ traps, but his own fate is unclear (unless you read the synopsis for a later episode). I think it’s important to note this is all happening through Maggie’s perspective, emphasizing that the bloodbath happening before us is her responsibility to bear. She wanted to go on this mission, and now she has to sit with the consequences. If the premiere episodes didn’t make it clear enough, then this one absolutely solidifies her as this season’s leading character.

Take that how you will. I do understand the rationale behind it, but one thing that’s really bothering me is how dragged out some of her scenes are. Last episode, it was that endless monologue recounting what she’d gone through with Hershel Jr. and here, it’s her journey through some spooky building where apparently Reapers have followed her. No hate towards Maggie whatsoever, but I’m just saying, it reaches a point where it’s nothing but a waste of precious story space.

Blowing past some more ridiculous action sequences in the gallery or mall or wherever the hell she is, Maggie finds herself working with Negan to get them and a fatally (?) wounded Alden back on track. All throughout, the power struggle is palpable. Despite losing nearly all her people, including Duncan who she has to put down and Agatha who gets bit in the arm (per the trailer), Maggie is still hellbent on bringing food back to Alexandria, which is certainly honorable, however I can’t help thinking an underlying drive for revenge is also clouding her judgement. At one point, she even tells Negan that everything is his fault, that he ruined everything they were building, and that he’ll never change. Though there is truth to what she says, her accusations feel misplaced in the moment as if they’ve been swirling in her mind for years and are now being conflated with the more immediate threat, the Reapers.

Negan once again tries to be the voice of reason, that their mission is compromised and doomed to fail, but ultimately ends up following Maggie’s lead. Unlike the train car situation, he rescues Maggie multiple times. Honestly, their dynamic gives me whiplash. It all culminates to a surprisingly satisfying scene where not only do we get acknowledgement of Negan’s and Alden’s history, but a genuinely heartfelt goodbye between Maggie and Alden, who at least has enough longevity to make us care that he’s getting left behind. Whether or not Alden dies is open to interpretation for now. It was really hard to tell the severity of his wounds, plus there was some indication that Maggie and Negan might come back for him, though that may have just been said as a coping mechanism. I guess we’ll have to see.

If Father Gabriel’s storyline highlights anything, it’s the consequences of splitting too many hairs in one episode, giving us not much more than a couple beats of how ruthless and unforgiving his character has become when he corners a wounded Reaper. After the man asks if Gabriel is a man of God, Gabriel tells him that “God isn’t here anymore,” and proceeds to stab him in the head. This reminds us that each of our characters are currently in their own personal hell while also confirming there is some strong religious element to the Reaper code.

Back at Alexandria, there are other power struggles at play, one of them between Aaron and Carol. They each have different ideas on how to get their community back in shape, and neither of them is wrong. Aaron wants everyone to focus on refortifying their walls, a problem I suspect is going to come to a head in 10x05. Carol, however, wants to go out searching for their lost horses, which may not present an immediate solution to their problems, but could ultimately make food and supply runs more efficient and successful in the long run. What’s really interesting about this scene is the reference Aaron makes to Buttons, the horse he and Daryl tried to track in season 5 or 6 (I can’t remember), which Aaron reminds Carol did not end so well. Believe it or not, the connection crossed my mind before even having watched the episode, but since it was directly brought up in dialogue, now I’m even more curious to do a side by side comparison of Carol’s search for the horses with Daryl’s. It could present an interesting parallel, seeing as though Daryl was working to find his place inside the community at the time, and now we see Carol doing the same thing.

The search for horses with Carol, Kelly, Magna, and Rosita is really beautiful visually, but more importantly emotionally. Of course in typical TWD fashion, you have to rely on a lot of non-verbal communication to really dig them out. Without anyone calling her out on it, it’s very apparent there’s a lot at stake for Carol on this mission. She feels greatly responsible for everything that’s gone wrong in the aftermath of the Whisperer war. We know Daryl gave her a rude awakening in the bonus episodes, and now more than ever, she’s determined to set things right. But contrary to Daryl’s harsh approach, the other women here are offering nothing but kindness and support. In a very rare interaction between Carol and Rosita, the latter opens up about a recurring dream where Abraham tries to warn her about some impending danger she relates to Alexandria, but he always ends up getting shot. Shot, not beaten to death with a baseball bat. I think that’s an important distinction to make because it prevents Carol from taking on any more guilt for releasing the man responsible for Abraham’s death. Truthfully, I’m not too sure what this heart to heart is meant to accomplish other than showing Abe is still alive in Rosita’s heart, and possibly foreshadowing the eventual downfall of Alexandria. I know it has to be falling on Carol’s ears for a reason, but if it has any connection to Daryl being in danger, then it’s not made clear enough.

Much to my liking, Carol and Kelly are in a really good place with each other, and it’s implied they’re keeping Connie’s search alive, or at least hoping she’ll return. According to Magna, Kelly even looks up to Carol. Aww. Magna herself seems to have forgiven Carol for getting her trapped, offering her a hug when they find most of their horses have been eaten by walkers and all hope seems lost. To no surprise, Carol is not ready to give up, and the others are willing to follow her. They work together as a team until they finally locate the rest of their horses and successfully bring them back home.

But at the same time, there’s also a little bit of tension between Magna, Kelly, and Carol throughout that only Magna is really privy to. She keeps trying to reach out to Kelly, hoping she can help her heal from the loss they’ve both suffered, but to no avail. In Magna’s eyes, Kelly might be spending a little too much time with Carol, fearing their bond might be creating a sense of false hope. She notices how quick Kelly is to join Carol’s quest to find the horses, so it’s not a stretch for her to think Kelly might be extending that hope to finding Connie. When Magna finally confronts Carol about it by the stables, she raises her suspicion that Carol doesn’t actually believe Connie is still alive, and simply doesn’t want to face what that could potentially mean. Whether or not that’s really true, Carol isn’t budging, and instead goes out again with Kelly later. To do what, I’m not exactly sure, but maybe they’re keeping their eyes peeled for clues about Connie. To me, all of this shows an effort on both Magna’s and Carol’s parts to put Kelly’s feelings at the forefront, which I love because it echoes what I’ve been saying forever now. Kelly needs to drive the search for her own sister, not anybody else.

The conversation is followed by a really sad, gruesome scene of Carol slitting one of the horse’s throats, conveying once again that Carol will always be the one to make the hard decisions nobody else wants to. Both Aaron and Rosita take notice, and though it’s not made explicitly clear, I like to assume it’s dawning on them how integral Carol is to their survival. Our girl is getting the respect she deserves. Of course, we all know she’s an even bigger force of nature out on the battlefield, so I really hope we get to see her take action against the Reapers. They might be unmatched, but that’s only because they haven’t met Carol yet.

That’s not to diminish the importance of all the seemingly mundane work that’s being done in Alexandria. We can see the urgency through the lens of the children, who reiterate their hunger during a game of cards. One of my biggest gripes with characters like Judith is that she’s often just used as a sounding board to continue the Grimes legacy rather than shaped into a three dimensional character, but this time I was happy to see a decent balance struck between being kids and being survivors in the ZA . Hershel Jr., the one with the most experience living on the road, even teaches his new friends how to choke down horse meat, which apparently is nothing compared to some of the other things he’s had to eat. Spiders?? Ew.

The pacing is still really slow, but it seems like we’re finally about to get into the weeds of the Reaper arc. In the next episode, we know Daryl is going to meet up with Leah, so my question is, who do I have to pay to prevent spoilers from getting out? Not that I’m concerned about the episode itself. It’s the prospect of mass hysteria that’s already getting my anxiety up. Let’s try to remember that as was proven with Find Me and even with this episode, Hunted, spoilers can be very misleading. Let’s also keep in mind that we are following an arc and not all our questions will be answered right away. Let’s acknowledge where Daryl will be starting emotionally at the top of this arc with Leah. Guilt and confusion are initially going to color how he interacts with her and what he says. I feel very confident that those feelings are not going to last and shit’s going to get real dark. Again, there’s no guarantee we’ll see that shift in the same episode, but mark my words it’ll happen. Be strong, friends. We’ll make it over the hump together.

11x01 “Acheron Part 1″ Review

11x02 “Acheron Part 2″ Review

#caryl #carol peletier #maggie rhee #negan #kelly twd #magna twd #aaron twd #rosita espinosa #father gabriel #judith grimes #hershel rhee #twd #twd spoilers #twd season 11 #twd review #twd hunted

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sonoftatooine · 3 years

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Whumpay 2021

DAY 14: SLAMMED INTO A WALL

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine

Warnings: Physical assault

Summary: When Palpatine reveals himself as a Sith, Anakin makes a different call. It doesn’t go well.

***

Anakin felt the back of his head connect sharply with the Chancellor's ornate carved wall as he was slammed backwards from the strike he had been about to deliver and pinned beneath the crushing force of Darth Sidious' will like a butterfly trapped on display in a collector's glass case. He saw stars, his still lit lightsaber slipping from his hand and drawing a burning score across the blood red carpet below him as it fell to the ground. Groaning in pain, he tried to fight against the agonising, unrelenting Force grip that held him in place, but Sidious' power was absolute, indomitable. It was as if he were throwing his own power against an impenetrable wall, like the spews of lava falling harmlessly against the shields of a facility on Mustafar, and no matter how he struggled, he could not escape.

Sidious. Palpatine. The kindly Chancellor Palpatine who had always had time to spare to listen to him ever since he was a young child, no matter how trivial his conversation must have seemed to a man who was in charge of the entire galaxy. Palpatine who kept his secrets. Palpatine who had goaded him into killing Dooku, who had revealed himself to be the Sith Lord at the heart of the war that he had lost so many good men in, that had both built him up and whittled him down to half of what he was. Palpatine who had lied to him, had used him for as long as he could remember, along with so many others who he had pretended friendship with. The Jedi. Padmé. He snarled like a cornered anooba as the man approached him, wishing that he did not have the same face, the same gentle smile that he had worn before he had revealed the truth. He wished that he would snarl and rage back, show his true colours. Not look upon him with such unaffected disappointment, even after Anakin had tried to attack him, even while he held him prisoner against a carved stone wall that had probably cost more than Anakin himself had when his value had still been counted in wuipipi.

“You poor, deluded fool.” Despite his words, Palpatine's tone held more pity than anger. “To think that you could strike me down. As if I would ever allow it.”

A twinge in the Force and Anakin's lightsaber was flying into the man's outstretched hand. The old Sith held it up, examining it from all angles before turning off the blade with a smirk. Anakin fought down the urge to shudder. He remembered Obi-Wan's constantly repeated maxim. This weapon is your life. His life in the hands of a Sith. Oh Force—

“I have to admit, this was not the eventuality I expected,” Palpatine said conversationally, as if he were merely remarking on how cloudy Coruscant was this time of year. “Accounted for, yes, but I did not actually expect to have to use any of my contingency plans. Well done, Anakin—you've surprised me.”

“Do I get a prize?” Anakin gritted out.

He let out a yelp, more from shock than pain, as Palpatine drew back and struck him sharply across the cheek with the hilt of his own lightsaber. He felt his skin split, a trickle of blood trailing down from the cut left on his cheekbone.

“I had expected you to run to the Jedi Council,” Palpatine continued, calm and calculated as ever, seemingly unaffected by the sudden violent act. “They would come to enact their little coup and you, wracked with fear for your dear little wife, would rush to stop them and, in the process, seal your fate. But perhaps you don't care as much about Padmé as I thought you did. No matter. There are other ways to get you to turn, and as for the Council, they shall come of their own volition anyway.”

Padmé. Oh, Padmé. He had forgotten about the knowledge Palpatine claimed to possess in his rage. All he had been able to think about underneath the haze of fury was all the pain and the suffering that this man had caused. Of Ahsoka, forced to grow too soon, and nearly condemned to death for a crime she did not commit, framed by a former friend, beaten down by the war that he had orchestrated. Obi-Wan who looked more worn and tired and sad with each day that passed. Rex who had been bred for and lost so many brothers to a sham war as if they were nothing but pieces in a galaxy-wide game of dejarik. And worst of all, Padmé. Padmé who had worked tirelessly towards a pointless goal, trying to bring peace to the galaxy when all the former mentor she had once relied on as Queen—who had used her as a girl to gain power for himself—wanted was violence. Padmé who had spent most of her pregnancy stressed and alone whilst he was trapped fighting in the Outer Rim. Padmé whom the Sith Lord Sidious had tried to have killed under the guise of Count Dooku and the Separatists. Would she die now, not because she had become the target of a Sith Lord, but because her husband had acted with his usual recklessness and tried to strike before he had thought through the consequences of his actions? Or worse, would his actions give Sidious a reason to target her yet again? Had he, in his impulsive rage, doomed his dreams to come true?

“Fear not, Anakin.” Palpatine's lips twisted into a cruel smile, as if he had known exactly what it was he was thinking. Through his haze of panic, Anakin thought he could see a hint of yellow seeping into his eyes. “I will ensure that your wife and child are...taken care of.”

Dread pooled ice-cold in Anakin's stomach at the glint in the man's eye. Oh, Force, he meant— No, no—

“I'll kill you!,” he snarled. He pushed against the man's Force grip with all his might, reaching out in the Force for anyone who would listen, trying to warn them, call for help. “I'll kriffing kill you before I let you touch them. I'll—”

He was cut violently off as the Force wrapped around his throat in an iron grip. He sputtered, gasping for air.

“We both know you cannot stop me,” Sidious said. His voice, instead of the soft-spoken, cultured tones he usually associated with the Chancellor, came out as a dry, vile croak. “Had you submitted to me, I might have considered sparing your little family, but as it is...perhaps the loss of your...attachments will better demonstrate to you the value of the Dark Side.”

“Kriff...you!,” Anakin managed to gasp out around the pressure on his throat. Black spots were appearing in his vision, but he fought past them. Padmé was in danger. Padmé and the baby. He couldn't— He wouldn't— “The Jedi... The...the Jedi will...stop you...”

Sidious laughed, an awful cackle that set Anakin's teeth on edge. His grip tightened.

“No, they shan't.” Anakin's vision filled with darkness. “Sleep, Anakin. You will find the galaxy much changed once you wake.”

#star wars #star wars prequels #star wars: revenge of the sith #revenge of the sith #star wars fic #fic #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #anakin & palpatine #canon divergence #whumpay #whumpay2021 #mine #my fic #sfw

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literatureandmonsters · 3 years

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Monsters and Self-Acceptance: Twilight

Twilight and the subsequent books follow 17-year-old Bella Swan and her romance with Edward Cullen, a vampire. Much of the books’ conflict stems from the danger Edward’s vampirism puts Bella in. This is also where much of Edward’s self-hatred stems from. Over the course of the series, however, we see this self-loathing diminish as Edward realizes he is worthy of the love Bella shows him.

Throughout the books Edward often professes hatred at what he is. Part of this self-loathing is related to his beliefs on morality. As Edward’s father explains, Edward “doesn’t believe there is an afterlife for our kind… he thinks we’ve lost our souls” (73). He does not believe a vampire, a creature as monstrous as he, could possibly have a soul, and even if he did have one, the human lives he took in his earliest years as a vampire would damn him regardless.

A larger part of his self-loathing is rooted in the danger he poses to Bella. As a vampire, he thirsts for her blood, and his presence in her life brings other dangerous vampires to her, but he cannot bear to leave her. He tells Bella, “I infuriate myself. The way I can’t seem to keep from putting you in danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger... I love you. It’s a poor excuse for what I’m doing, but it’s still true” (641). He believes someone braver than he would simply leave Bella to keep her safe, and loathes himself for refusing to do so.

In one of the most memorable scenes of the series, the meadow scene, Edward explains to Bella exactly the danger he poses to her, but Bella declares, “I would rather die than stay away from you” (487). To this, Edward muses, “and so the lion fell in love with the lamb… what a sick, masochistic lion.”

Tracy L. Bealer, in Bringing Light to Twilight: Perspectives on a Pop Culture Phenomenon, describes how this line reflects Edward’s self-hatred and the journey he takes to unlearn it. She remarks that the “depth and power of [Edward’s] self-loathing… derive from a profound hatred of himself stemming from his dangerous body” (120). She goes on to say,

“by calling himself a ‘sick, masochistic lion,’ Edward reveals… that he understands himself to be wicked and contaminated because his vampirism renders his body inherently predatory. However, his second defining term, “masochistic,” is both insightful and misapplied. It is not his masochistic desire to expose himself to the temptation Bella embodies that causes Edward’s torment… this masochism is actually his salvation. He has convinced himself that his transformation into a vampire has cost him his soul, and he has internalized this perceived loss by identifying himself as a “monster” doomed to destroy Bella” (120).

This speaks to the role Bella’s love has in Edward’s journey of unlearning his self-hatred. He sees his relationship with her as “masochistic” because of the danger he poses to her (though Bella adamantly says multiple times she does not care), but it is this relationship that is actually his “salvation.”

At the beginning of the story, he cannot comprehend how a monster like him could be deserving of Bella’s love, and often expresses this confusion to her. In one early scene in Twilight, Bella proclaims, “I’m absolutely ordinary” and Edward tells her, “You don’t see yourself very clearly, you know” (375). Later, when Edward asks Bella how she can bear to be with such a monster, Bella tells him same thing: “Do you remember when you told me that I didn’t see myself very clearly? You obviously have the same blindness” (861). While Edward does not understand how Bella can love him, she does not understand how he cannot love himself.

At almost every facet of Edward’s self-hatred, Bella disagrees. She does not view him as monstrous or doomed as he does. In fact, she believes the opposite. Bella says Edward is “more angel than man” (49). It is clear in the beginning of the story that Edward does not share Bella’s high opinion of himself, despite her insistence; however, by the final book, Breaking Dawn, Edward has come to terms with being a vampire and embraces living forever with Bella. In this book, Edward is forced to change Bella to save her life, and she becomes a vampire. When she is transformed into a vampire, the monster that he has always been, Edward still loves her just as he did when she was human. He tells her, “I am completely amazed” (733) about her beauty and retained humanity. In her, he is able to see the beauty that she had spoken so high of, and he revels in the fact that being vampires will allow them to spend eternity together. Finally, his fate does not seem so monstrous, and the love Bella showed him becomes love he shows himself as well.

Both stories discussed here lay a roadmap for young readers to forgo the self-loathing they may feel at certain aspects of themselves. Reader can to find love and adoration for characters who have yet to find love for themselves, and in watching these characters find ways to accept shunned and monstrous parts of themselves, they can be encouraged to embark on their own journeys of banishing self-hared.

Perhaps this is why there are so many memorable stories of monsters being transformed by love and self-acceptance, such as the recent The Shape of Water and the enduring Beauty and the Beast. Regarding this last story, psychologist John Gressel P.h.D., says the story encourages us to “find the beauty in the beasts in our lives.” He tells readers to

“Think of some part of you or your life that you don't like, can't accept, wish were otherwise… some aspect of yourself or your circumstances that has you feeling trapped, that you hate, that you want to go away or to escape from. According to this tale… you must learn to love this very thing you currently hate... Until you do, you are trapped in this prison cell of not accepting yourself or your life as it is. It is only through this kind of self acceptance, genuine and complete, that… we can unite with this previously unacceptable feature of our lives and live happily ever after. This is when that which we despise is transformed into something beautiful.”

In Beauty and the Beast, the Beast is literally transformed by earning Belle’s true love. As Gressel points out, Beauty and the Beast – and Twilight I would argue –encourage the reader to “learn to love [the] very thing you currently hate.” Monster stories geared towards young people, whether in classics from the 1800s or in modern Young Adult novels, are a great opportunity to warn young readers of the dangers of self-hatred and the power of loving and accepting yourself.

In Twilight, Bella helps show Edward that he is not a monster, and that being a vampire could have the benefit of allowing them to be together forever. This radical love causes Edward to… In The Dream Thieves, Ronan’s self-hatred is literally a threat against his life. His dreams are filled with monsters that hate him as much as he hates himself, and he has to contend with these monsters when he brings them into his waking life. After accepting his sexuality, his monsters – and his self-hatred – are transformed similarly to how Gressel describes the meaning of monster stories happening when something “we despise is transformed into something beautiful.”

#twilight #monsters #monster theory #young adult #edward cullen #bella swan #literary analysis #the twilight saga #breaking dawn #new moon #eclipse #midnight sun

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kenpxchi · 3 years

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hellish. || origin

Hell in the world of Bleach is a crazy place.

In the movie and novels, it is given far more lore than in the manga, with its own locales. However, the interesting thing about Hell is that it predates the creation of the three main worlds of Bleach (Hueco Mundo, Soul Society, and the Living World). Moreover, as revealed in Can’t Fear Your Own World, the Soul King was born into a world overrun by Hollows, and was essentially the first Quincy, as they completely eliminated any Hollows they found, but their actions earned grave consequences.

Interestingly enough, the existence of Hell predates the existence of even the Soul King itself. It has somehow always been there, always accepting those worthy of its punishment. Moreover, Hell seems to have an affinity with Hollows and those with Hollow-like abilities, trying to draw out the Hollow within.

In light of this, here’s my theory: Hell is the ultimate origin of all Hollows, and Kenpachi has a connection to it.

I’m gonna be making some crazy cosmology theories below the cut.

Exhibit A: Chains and Fate

Hell is bound by a gate of chains, and any sinners who escape it are forcibly dragged back by chains that link them to Hell. Similarly, when a soul becomes a Hollow, its Chain of Fate is completely dissolved through the process of Encroachment. Moreover, when the soul of a sinner, a Togabito, manages to escape hell, they must constantly hide their face with a mask. Moreover, in the manga (Volume imaginary number 01. the unforgivens, which is helpful if you want icons of Szayel & Aaroniero), it is revealed that Hollows and even Arrancar, who are composites of hundreds of thousands of Souls, retain their original form in Hell.

So, here’s my theory: the first Hollows were Togabito who managed to escape Hell by severing themselves from the chains that bound them and wearing masks to remain hidden, but in the process, they lost their identity and became monsters. As for why Arrancar appear in Hell, it is likely so that the individual souls that make up their being can slowly be torn away and sifted through, so that the innocent souls can leave and the guilty remain trapped. In the beginning, since there was no life or death, there really only remains one dichotomy between the unified world and Hell.

The unified world was where good people lived in peace, and Hell was where bad people were punished. Or, at least, the bad people who got caught. And this has remained Hell’s purpose for the entirety of time immemorial: to punish Togabito and make them suffer. Which brings me to my next point.

Exhibit B: The Denial of Suffering

Now, as we all know, due to the Soul King completely erasing the Hollows, the balance of the world began to destabilize. The Soul King was willingly split into pieces by the original five Noble Houses of the Soul Society, and the world was divided up into three different pieces: Hueco Mundo, Soul Society, and the Living World. However, there are some pretty significant plot holes which I hope to address.

Why would the Soul King’s actions destabilize the world if there was no life or afterlife, and therefore, no balance of souls between them?

Simple. Hell was being denied its suffering. By completely annihilating a Hollow, you’re essentially destroying it quickly, cleanly, and without any punishment for its misdeeds. Hell, obviously, is going to be very angry about this, as it was robbed of its escaped prisoners, assuming my cosmology theory is correct. This would definitely lead to a destabilization event. The caretakers of Hell, the Kushanada, are indestructible juggernauts who eat sinners (this is what we in the business call foreshadowing, kids).

You would not want them getting mad and coming out of Hell to ruin your day, Soul King or not, because not only are they entirely indestructible, they can pool their power together into a single entity (or person, if you’re the protagonist) capable of damning someone to eternal torment. No matter what you can do, no matter how strong you are, if the Kushanada deem you a sinner, and all unite to come after you, prepare for literally eternal pain.

So, now the decision to take a nigh-omnipotent and omniscient god, cut him into pieces, stick him in a crystal, and split the world apart sounds a bit more reasonable considering the alternative would be to doom the entirety of all sentient beings to unending agony at the hands of the Kushanada.

Why would the Soul King agree to being sealed in the first place?

Simple. He realize that if his actions doomed the entire world to Hell, that whatever fate awaited him there would be worse than being dismembered and sealed away for eternity acting as the lynchpin between all three worlds. Faced with this choice, any sane person would take the option with less pain... as grisly as that option may be.

Why would the Soul King create a place for Hollows if he wanted to kill all of them?

My guess is that if the Soul King was kind enough to be hacked up for the sake of the world, the reason he was completely erasing Hollows in the first place was in order to protect them from eternal torment in Hell. Unlike the Kushanada, who thrive on making sinners suffer forever, the Soul King likely held the belief that people can change, and don’t deserve such cruelty. So, Hueco Mundo was created as a world that gives Hollows some respite from the horrors of Hell, which are apparently worse than a desert full of cannibalism and death. However, that’s me psychoanalyzing a character who has no dialogue in the manga proper, and is mostly used as a plot device until he dies. Nice job killing him, Ichigo.

Now, having patched up some of the plot holes with liberal application of assumptions and theory, let’s move on to Kenpachi’s connection to it.

Exhibit C: Suffering in the Separate Worlds

So, the Soul King and his five teenagers with attitude noble family heads all managed to appease Hell somehow. However, this likely wasn’t all they did to keep Hell from engulfing everything. Remember how earlier I said that the original, unified world was a place where only good people lived? Now, look at the three disparate worlds.

Hueco Mundo is a barren wasteland ruled by the strongest, who exploit and devour the weak. Soul Society is an authoritarian nightmare with a disparity in class living conditions so stark it’s worse than some caste systems. The World of the Living is... well. We all live in it, and we know how it’s going. So what happened to each of these three worlds to make them so bleak?

My guess is that Hell demanded to have its own little piece of itself in each of these new worlds, in order to make up for all the suffering that was lost due to the Soul King’s actions. It’s why Bleach is a horrifically depressing world. The Soul King defied the guys who believe in eternal punishment. Disproportionate retribution was bound to occur in that situation.

Now, to sprinkle in a little more theory. There are locations in these three worlds that have a strong connection to Hell. They aren’t set in stone; they’re simply the locations where the most suffering occurs. Kushanada are drawn to it, since it’s usually where their prey is causing trouble. One such location might be the Outer Rukon.

Specifically, Northern District 80: Zaraki.

The Nameless Boy

So, in light of all this headcanon lore and all these attempts to plug up the plot holes of Bleach, we come to the origins of Kenpachi Zaraki, the man who was born in the most hellish district in the Rukon. I’m still going with the idea of him being the son of a sex worker who fell pregnant and fled to Zaraki. However, we don’t know who the father is.

The mother goes into labor and dies in childbirth. Shortly after, her baby dies. However, because the baby is born in a literal actual hellhole, there’s an innate connection to the energies of Hell, which thrive on suffering. The baby wound up forging a connection to it, as its death in such close proximity to Hell at such a young age would likely grab the attention of the Kushanada, who would be somewhat miffed that they were denied such good suffering.

So what do they do? They decide to put a little piece of Hell into the baby, as retribution for their loss. And so, the baby boy comes back to life. He eats the corpse of his mother, grows old enough to escape the basement he’d been hiding in his entire life, and goes out to start killing.

This gives us a few interesting implications:

The reason Kenpachi doesn’t stay dead is because he cannot stay dead. He’s meant to be a piece of Soul Society forever corrupted by Hell, and to act as an agent of the Kushanada. It’s why he heals so quickly and just keeps getting back up no matter what he gets hit with.

Kenpachi’s impossible durability and horrifying strength come from his connection to Hell, as does his seemingly unending pool of reiatsu, mimicking the Kushanada.

Because Kenpachi gets stronger every time he dies, even after unlocking the unconscious seal he placed on himself, he’s tapping more and more into his connection to Hell whenever he dies.

When Kenpachi goes to the Living World, he is literally Hell on Earth.

tl;dr - Kenpachi is Bleach’s version of Ghost Rider.

Anyway, that’s my spiel. If there are any inconsistencies, feel free to DM me and let me know.

#;; under the patch #;; headcanon #;; drabble

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bring-it-all-down · 3 years

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I’d like to talk a little bit about why I think Black Sails, while definitely tragic, is NOT a tragedy. Rather, I think that Black Sails ultimately is more hopeful than tragic.

The literary conception of tragedy is divided into two types, Greek and Shakespearean. I’m in no way an expert on tragedy, but broadly speaking, in Greek tragedy, the plot must have unity (it must have a clear beginning, middle, and end) in order for the audience to reach some sort of emotional catharsis. Most importantly, though, the plot must be driven by a character’s pointless struggle to avoid their fate brought on by their hubris (an attempt to become like a god), which has been predetermined (largely from prophesies) and from which they cannot escape. For instance, everything Oedipus attempts to do to escape his fate of killing his father and marrying his mother only draws him closer to that fate.

Shakespearean tragedy, on the other hand, has a less clear beginning and plot, including many subplots that take place over a much longer period of time: it lacks the Greek elements of unity of plot, time, and place. Furthermore, the struggle is driven not by divine prophecy but by a character’s struggle between good and evil; the character is doomed not by an external power but by an internal failing. Thus, while the tragic hero in Greek plays gains full knowledge of the situation by the end, the Shakespearean tragic hero rarely gains self-knowledge. In essence, Greek tragedy is more plot-focused and Shakespearean tragedy is more character-focused.

Although Black Sails has a predetermined end thanks to both Treasure Island and the historical context of piracy, if it was to be a tragedy, it would be a Shakespearean tragedy, not a Greek tragedy. The plot is complex, focusing on a number of characters, and is driven largely by the characters’ internal struggles. However, the show differs in several key ways that ultimately prevent it from being a full tragedy.

Most importantly, Black Sails lacks a real tragic hero, who in Shakespearean tragedy is somebody well-regarded––often a member of the nobility––who is fundamentally a good person, but whose fatal flaw leads to his downfall and the downfall of society at large. As Tom McAlindon puts it in his article, “What is Shakespearean Tragedy?”:

The hero’s fall involves a self-betrayal or loss of identity which constitutes the breakdown in the balance of a richly-endowed nature, one in which feeling is so powerful that it is never far from the point of destructive excess...loosely speaking, then, anger and ambition (including pride, a sense of honor, and the desire for glory), and, on the other hand, love and grief, are the passions whose overflow brings disaster; and it should be stressed that the first pair are to be seen in as positive a light as the second (9-10).

This tragic hero frequently wants to do good, but is blind to the truth of reality, and his initial errors in judgment due to this blindness compound over time, leading to his destruction. Throughout this decline, the ‘hero’ status is maintained through a constant reminder of the environment in which the tragic hero exists; Othello’s paranoia, for instance, is in part a product of the racism in Venetian society. Furthermore, the tragic hero is always juxtaposed by a manipulative figure who knowingly attempts to rouse the hero’s passions for his own gain.

In Black Sails, the person who most closely matches this description is Flint, a high-ranking pirate who commands the respect of his inferiors. Flint certainly is driven by some continuously shifting combination of ambition, love, and grief. His entire project is one dedicated to honoring Thomas’s memory, but it’s also very true that Flint enjoys being in power. He relishes the opportunity to take back command of the Walrus from Dufresne, and as much as he sees his crew as men rather than animals, he absolutely believes himself superior to them. His penchant for murdering those who stand in his way is constantly justified to us through reminders that civilization is even more violent and less discriminating in its use of violence. Furthermore, he is manipulated at times by Silver (though the extent of each other’s knowledge of this is questionable).

This brings us to the question of Flint’s fatal flaw. Unlike with Shakespearean tragic heroes (Romeo’s impulsiveness, Hamlet’s indecision, Macbeth’s ambition), it’s hard to pinpoint a singular flaw for Flint. To be sure, the guy has many flaws: his arrogance, his reticence to trust people, his anger, etc. But it’s difficult to pick out a singular flaw that leads to his demise. In fact, it’s perhaps his abandonment of these flaws that results in his death (“Flint” died, regardless of how you interpret the ending). He trusts Silver, he humbles himself enough to believe himself unworthy of overseeing a post-revolutionary world alongside Madi and Silver, and it’s his love in place of anger that makes it impossible for him to kill Silver. So, ultimately, his fatal flaw is trusting Silver too much, but this is not a flaw that is inherent to him, that he had even from their first meeting.

A second way in which Black Sails differs from Shakespearean tragedy also concerns the ending. In Shakespearean tragedies, the reciprocal relationship between the disordered tragic hero and the disordered society in which he exists comes to and end with the hero’s demise, and a new orderly society springs up in its place. In Macbeth, Malcolm becomes king, ushering in an era of benevolence; in Othello, Iago receives a fitting punishment, thereby restoring some sense of justice; etc. In essence, the tragic hero’s death results in the end of conflict and the beginning of peace.

In one sense, Black Sails follows this plot. The end of Flint brings about the end of war and the beginning of peace in Nassau under Max’s rule. However, we know that this peace is deeply unsatisfactory because we have come to learn that compromising with civilization is actually impossible. We learn that while the Maroons have a peace treaty, it does not extend to any other freed Black person, and it includes the Maroons re-enslaving people who come to them for freedom. We know through historical context that Jack and Anne only have a few more years of freedom before they’re captured and Jack is hanged. We know that Silver spends the rest of his life haunted by what he did to Flint. And so Flint’s death brings about no actual peace.

The key element that prevents Black Sails from being a Shakespearean tragedy, despite it fitting most of the typical components of a Shakespearean tragedy, is the idea that the central conflict––freedom vs. civilization––extends beyond the show. And so we are aware that no character’s actions will actually affect the conflict in a monumental way. Even though there is the idea that it could have ended differently, we know from the beginning, with our historical knowledge, that the revolution is doomed. The central conflict of the show is an ongoing conflict; there is no possibility of reconciliation as with the Montagues and the Capulets. While all Shakespearean tragedies begin in medias res, they have a definite conclusion, but Black Sails does not.

So, Black Sails is not a Shakespearean tragedy, but on its surface, it looks like it’s incredibly tragic. However, I think that, for all of the reasons I just talked about, Black Sails is actually a show about hope. Flint’s arc demonstrates to us that people can change, that hope can be found in a mutual recognition of suffering and a desire to end that suffering not just for yourself but for others. We learn from Max that nothing is worth doing unless it begins and ends with love. We find a deep sense of familiarity in these characters through the recognition that their battles are our battles, that their flaws are our flaws, but their failure does not have to be our failure.

Unlike with Macbeth or Othello or Romeo and Juliet, the Black Sails story is still being written and so long as that is the case, there is room for hope.

#black sails #I suppose there's an argument to be made that Flint's relationship with Silver is akin to his relationship with Admiral Hennessy #in terms of misplaced trust #But it's difficult to extract this into some statement of his penchant for trusting the wrong people because he often trusts the right peopl #like Thomas and Madi #So it's a tricky one

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yourillusoryenvy · 4 years

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Did Chrollo doom the Phantom Troupe?

Disclaimer: Please note that I am mostly referring to the 2011 anime as I only picked up the manga where the anime stopped. This is my own reflection on the subject, and is not in anyway a fact or truth. Feel free to disagree!

Neon’s Fortune Telling Power & Her Lack of Knowledge about Nen:

Let’s start by talking about Neon’s Hatsu. We all know that if given the full name, birth date and blood type of someone, she is capable of predicting the future with 100% accuracy, one month at a time, in the form of short poems, one short paragraph per week of the month. She has no knowledge of what she writes/predicts (and does not like to know what she predicted because she feels it will impact what she wrote). First off, from my point of view Neon seemed really unaware of her nen ability. She is very well aware that she is able to predict fortunes that are 100% reliable, but she does not even seem to know how she does that: she does not know about nen, like Chrollo, Gon or Kurapika for instance.

Evidence of this is scattered throughout the York New Arc. First, if she was a traditional nen-user she would have practiced all the other basic exercises and should be able to use some level of aura in a defensive manner. I cannot believe that a traditional nen-user would have so easily put their guard down around Chrollo, and used no aura to surround their body. Sure, even a trained Nen-user would loose in a battle against Chrollo but still! A basic nen-user could have limited the force of the blow to her head/neck. And since she would be more capable of defending herself, had she been trained with the basic exercises, she shouldn’t need SO MANY guards. The amount of guards that she has is what you leave with a powerless, defenseless person, not with a nen-user that has at least some basic knowledge of nen.

Next, she announces that “her hand just write the fortune”, and to me that shows she actually does not know how she can give such accurate fortune. She goes on to tell Chrollo that “they say they are 100% accurate”. Why would a nen user doubt their skills? Compare this to Pakunoda’s reaction when Gon and Killua challenge her ability by stating that “she only extract the purest deepest unaltered memory” and that they won’t be able to deceive her.

Sure, maybe an explanation is that she does not want to walk around explaining what nen is and how she does it, but this actually bring me to my next point. Wouldn’t a nen-user, be able to recognize a fellow nen-user? And if so why didn’t she get bothered by Chrollo’s aura? Even Leorio that has the tiniest understanding of nen can tell that Kurapika’s “presence” has changed. Nen-user “feel” different. A non-nen user would brush it off but a nen-user would be able to tell whether a person is a nen-user or not. Had she been a nen-user, and in anyway aware of it, she would have been way more wary of Chrollo’s intention.

Lastly, let’s not forget that she has no clue what happened to her and why she can’t write fortunes anymore. Wouldn’t a nen-user suspect that their nen was sealed somehow? I am not saying she should know that specifically Chrollo did it, I am saying that if she knew about nen, she would know that a nen-user did something to prevent her from using her nen.

I Strongly Suspect that Neon Unknowingly Put a Condition on her Hatsu.

Now why is it important? Well remember what I said earlier about her hatsu, how “she doesn’t know what she writes (AND DOESN’T WANT TO KNOW)”? This is why it matters. A 100% accuracy is a hell of good rate, it’s almost as impossible as let’s say creating unbreakable chains or being able to steal another people’s hatsu... It most likely requires a condition.

Neon’s goal is to help people know about their future so they can prevent the bad from happening. She states that she feels that if she was told about the fortune, it would impact it somehow. And what if it does? What if she unknowingly set a condition on her hatsu? One that prohibit her from knowing what she wrote, and if she is told then what she wrote becomes fate, unalterable destiny, something her “clients” cannot escape?

Many time through the arc we are reminded that Neon’s fortune can be escaped if we pay attention to them. If it wasn’t an important fact it would NOT have been repeated so many times throughout: by Chrollo, by Neon, by some random mafia guy... Simply knowing people were using it should have been enough, but Togashi went out of his way to make it point that it was used specifically for this purpose. I think this is a hint to Neon’s nen ability. A hint that if that is her purpose she would need a condition defying the purpose of her nen, something rendering her nen less strong or useless. And what better defies the purpose of her fortune telling ability than rendering her fortune unescapable?

If it became unavoidable, I believe the person attempts to escape would only push back the inevitable. Sure their fate would not happen within that month (making the person feel like they escaped it) but it would keep coming for them.

I know I might be stretching it but stick with me a little bit more!

Chrollo Used Neon’s Ability and Was Bound by The Condition. So What Does this Mean for the Troupe?

If Chrollo used someone else’s nen I’m assuming he is bond by the same conditions. For instance the indoor fish is for INDOOR only, he cannot alter it and make it useable outside. This was probably a condition set by the original Nen-user to render them more powerful. Similarly, while we can only assume, if Chrollo was to take Shizuku’s ability he could only vacuum non-living things, just like Shizuku.

This mean in this case, unbeknownst to Chrollo, Neon’s extremely useful nen ability came at a cost: he could not know about what he wrote or its purpose would be wasted by the fortune becoming unavoidable.

Now we all know what the Troupe did when Chrollo wrote them their fortune, they shared it with each other, out loud, in front of everyone including Chrollo (well except for Hisoka who hid the real fortune with Texture Surprise).

At that point Uvogin was dead, next in line was Pakunoda. Now it can be argued that Paku died because Hisoka hid his fortune and convinced them to stay. Or maybe it was meant to be because Chrollo had learned her fortune? I mean how, knowing about her fortune, did she still manage to make the wrong choice and get herself kill? I know she cares about Chrollo but her fortune should have guided her! Well anyway for the sake of the argument I won’t count Paku.

Next of course was Kortopi, who did NOT get his fortune read, but finally come my poor Shalnark (I am still not over his death...). Shalnark’s fortune talked about how he should not make phone calls, because when it matters the most he won’t be able to reach anyone for help. Lastly telling him that death will come calling one time in three. From what we see in the manga and the anime from that point on, the third time that Shalnark’s phone ring is when Hisoka kills him. His phone is shown ringing, falling to the ground as he lunges to catch Kortopi’s head (Hisoka I still hate you for that!). He did not have his phone anymore on him. At the time it mattered most he could not reach anyone. And death came on the third call... Isn’t this odd to you?

Also let’s not forget that Hisoka could have killed Machi but DID NOT. An odd choice. He could have killed the three of them and send poor Kortopi’s head as a present to Chrollo. I don’t know, he did not have to keep Machi alive. Unless she was MEANT to stay alive, you know just like as her fortune said?

Lastly, to support this argument Hisoka, who was the only one to know his real fortune AND to actively try to maintain it, tells Pakunoda that “it seems that bit by bit fate seems to be changing”. This is a very odd statement. It makes no sense why it is changing, why did Hisoka fortune’s change? Why didn’t he get his fight with Chrollo when his fortune told him he would? Because had he fought Chrollo right then and there, he would have most likely won. Chrollo wouldn’t have had time to prepare and no “puppets” to use to fight. It would have been a tough fight, Hisoka would have been the winner and he would have had no reason to kill Kortopi and Shalnark. But if Kortopi’s and Shalnark’s fate was now unalterable, his own fate needed to change so that he could fight Chrollo later, loose, come back, kill Shalnark and Kortopi to accomplish their fates!

What Will Happen Next (if the hiatus ever ends)?

I have three predictions as to who will die next. The first two depends on whether we count Hisoka leaving the Spiders as “a loss to the calendar”. All the Spiders fortune talked about how their legs are going to be cut in half a.k.a 6 members will die. Personally I don’t think he counts, but I can see the argument that he is a loss so I’ll include my line of thinking in this case. Currently as dead members we have Uvogin, Pakunoda, Shalnark and Kortopi.

If we count Hisoka has being one of the 6 (as in he left the troupe), then only one person has to die. The only person remaining who we know was meant to die in York New was Shizuku. Her fortune talked about her being alone in a room of stolen goods. The Black Whale is filled with goods, some probably stolen, all definitely soon-to-be stolen.. Considering the spiders are slowly breaking up in small groups exploring the ship I wouldn’t be surprised that at some point Shizuku finds herself in such room only to meet her death: Hisoka or Kurapika. Her death would be the end of the fortune.

If we don’t count Hisoka has being one of the 6 lost legs then inevitably Shizuku will die for the reason mention above, but another member has to die. That member will be Feitan or Phinks... Most likely Phinks in my opinion, because Feitan is too big of a character for him to be killed like that. I know there is no way to say whether it will be Phinks or Fei but my gut feeling tells me Phinks... Why one of these two? Because they are the only one who did not get their fortune read, and if the fortunes of all the other members have to become true, it can only be someone who did not get their fortune read that can die.

The last option which I believe in way less and really really really hope is wrong is that the fortune said the Spiders will get done to 6 members and so the “massacre” will not end until this happens. The spider is currently at 10 members so 4 more needs to die. Shizuku is one of them I’m sure of that, Phinks and Fei are more than fair game, and then Kalluto and Illumi since they did not have they fortune read. I can see Kalluto and Phinks dying. And then either Illumi or Fei dying grand finale style, as in Hisoka killed Kalluto and Illumi goes berserk or same with Fei after loosing Phinks. However in this case, I think all other members become fair game. Chrollo, Machi, Bonolenov, Franklin and Nobu are all in danger. I don’t believe, and don’t want to believe, in this third theory but well it is still an option worth mentioning.

Conclusion:

Am I stretching the facts? Maybe. I am forced to since we are missing a lot of information, and can only make assumptions about some things. But I believe that some clues are hidden all over the manga and anime hinting that this could be a real possibility. Plus if you think about it from the writter perspective wouldn’t it be a huge plot twist. Imagine for a second a Kurapika v. Chrollo battle, with Kurapika actually knowing about Neon’s nen condition (e.g: she was told when she was working for the Nostrade to never read Neon’s ability to her) and being able to tell Chrollo that it is HIS fault that half the spiders died, that they could have survived had he not STOLEN Neon’s nen ability. Finally, Chrollo regretting stealing something, feeling GUILTY for stealing, feeling GUILTY for what he did and the impact it had. I would personally love to read something like that!

Truth is we do not know anything for sure and this is just a theory, but it is worth considering in my opinion. I have no doubt at all that Shizuku, and most likely Fei or Phinks are next.

Anyway that it just my theory!

P.S: English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar/vocab mistakes

#phantom troupe #shalnark #pakunoda #kortopi #chrollo #hisoka #neon #fortune #hxh #hunter x 2011 #hunter x hunter

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

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“Second Draft” - Rewrite the Story, Rework a Character!

I’ve been exploring the idea of the Actor and how best to write him lately. While doing so, I grew curious about the possibility of him slightly altering Damien during the time the ‘DAMIEN’ animation is set. So this is considering the idea that Mark still exists, but the Actor is the mask he wears and the role he plays.

Word Count: 1,522

This world - this place where neither death nor time exist - is a WONDERFUL setting for one as creative as the Actor! It was like the days in theatre, where the stage was empty yet filled with possibility. It was a blank canvas where any colours could be thrown on to help create something unique. It was the humming of a melody that could become a prelude to a great symphony. Here, anything could happen, if he so wished.

Somewhere in this timeless place hid the twins. Neither were attached to their own bodies, so they drifted deeper than most would. It must be through sheer carelessness, or even recklessness! The only one who could save them from the peril was Actor himself… But Celine had worked to make it impossible to properly locate them. He wanted to find Damien, but he only ever found Celine brandishing a weapon. However, she was only in a certain area that was hidden by an impassable wall. Unfortunately for her, it only brought about a curious Actor to see what lay in the area he now couldn’t reach.

In the time this game of ‘cat and mouse’ took place, Actor made an interesting discovery about the younger twin. Unlike Celine, Damien was simply chucked out of his body when it was possessed - his soul was still alive. Actor still had an opportunity to tweak Damien’s ‘character’, which he needed to. Damien couldn’t stay here, he needed to get back into the world! Not only that, he had to experience change to ensure further survival. Damien would perish in the world beyond the ‘bubble’. As he was, Damien was unsuitable to survive in the world Actor wanted for him. As it was, it was very good, but it was akin to a first draft that needed editing. It was unsuitable for the tale Actor had in mind. If he played his cards right, he could make the perfect plan to set in motion the new changes in such a subtle way that none would notice. What better way to help set the scene?

Deep within the abyss, there lay an empty pocket, like a chamber. The "walls" slowly expand and contract to bring a sense of life to the timeless place. When Mark first stumbled upon the room, it terrified him. Now, it calmed Actor. How could it not? That slow pulsing matched the rhythm of deep breaths that one would take to try and shake off the nerves. Perhaps the ones that resided in this place wanted Actor to succeed and granted access to a space that was ideal for the creative process! Actor closed his eyes and with a breath, waved his hands.

The walls trembled and pulled back to double the space available. Before him manifested a ghostly figure of the Mayor, brought forward by the memories within the body he now owned. Actor's eyes snapped open to the sight with delight. What a great starting point! It was a perfect replica, but this was not the final result. Oh no! This was merely the start, the blueprint! He snapped his fingers, and a projection of a list shuddered into existence on a screen. It was an information sheet, like when Mark used to work on characters for projects he worked on in better days. Basic facts about the Mayor appeared, but were pushed upward as Actor flicked his wrist. This wasn't what he wanted. Repeating the action manifested the Mayor's personality, neatly summarised and categorised into positive and negative traits:

Positives - Charming, Polite, Trusting, Honest, Loyal

Negatives - Short-Tempered, Proud, Stubborn

"Such a neat, balanced character sheet. But we can't mess too much with your characterisation," Actor murmured as he began to pace around the apparition. "No, no… We cannot afford to lose your charm. I want the audience to love you, flaws and all. I want them to feel conflicted on their opinion of you… If you are too heartless, you become flat and little more than a parody of yourself, and I care about you too much for that." He paused as he eyed the list again, only to shake his head and resume pacing. "You may be doomed to fail against the heroes, but the audience should want to feel some sympathy or care toward you - or love to hate you, whichever works. But right now… Oh Damien, you are just too -" Standing in front of the figure, Actor rested his weight on one leg. His left hand propped the other arm, and his right hand clicked fingers together as words escaped him. "- How is that fans refer to someone like you… 'Soft'? 'Babey'? 'Cinnamon roll'? That isn't a good starting point for any villain, and you deserve better than to merely be a tragic character."

That comment made him pause and step back. That did describe Damien rather well, didn't it? Mark had always thought Damien a sensitive soul, one who didn't deserve the pain that the world was keen to throw at him. Why condemn him to an eternity of suffering behind that wall and whatever was going on there? An outsider who had no trained abilities or experience in a place like this would be broken and shattered before they could return to the world beyond the void. Mark knew Damien well enough to know that if Damien was able to escape, he wouldn't mentally survive the transition back with his "still-living soul". Plus, it was likely Celine that was the only reason Damien still "survived" to this point (if he could assume that was why she kept hunting him). But Damien wouldn't survive like that forever. The moment Celine's powers ran out, they would both be doomed. Damien would be caught under the control of the creatures that lurked unseen or would be driven mad, while Celine… well, that wasn't something Mark wanted to dwell on.

It might not be the 'right' thing to do, but Mark didn't have any better ideas. They had long crossed the point of solving things amicably (body theft might have burned that bridge rather spectacularly). If Damien had to adapt by playing a role that didn't belong to him… so be it.

He took a slow breath to gather his thoughts and regain his focus. Then, Actor stepped forward.

"I'm afraid your personality needs to be tweaked a fraction. Not too much to lose your sense of self, but enough to allow hunting me be a sensible option." After all, what good was a villain that had no drive? Damien was always a gentle soul. He would avoid causing hurt or bother to another. That needed to change. So then he needed to be strong-willed and focused, but to the point where it would be a detriment. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and began scribbling on the screen floating before him until the list now read thusly:

Positives - Charming, Polite, Trusting, Honest, Loyal

Negatives - Short-Tempered, Proud, Stubborn, Obsessive

If Damien still believed there was a chance of good in his old friend, he might lose that drive to escape. Actor needed to be sure that Damien wouldn't fall so easily and blindly trust.

His hand reached out again to make another addition, only to freeze. Mark forced himself to hold back, to the point of once again breaking character. These were merely the bare bones of Damien's personality, but he couldn't remove another positive trait. Despite how he tried to convince himself otherwise, this felt… wrong. If it were anyone else he wouldn't feel this bubbling guilt. It wasn't right to alter Damien like this. But if he wanted Damien to escape and survive as he was, then he couldn't make another change. If he wanted Damien to live, then Mark would allow himself to become live bait that Damien could hunt. Love might be a force stronger than human nature, but so was hate. That could be his driving force.

He waved his hand and let the list disappear. The illusion of Damien shivered and faded away as the minor changes passed to the slumbering mayor. It was only a temporary solution, really. The beauty about people was that they weren't characters on a page. Their personality wasn't confined to some choice words in neat lists. People were far more complicated and nuanced than that. He hadn't erased the word "trusting", which meant it could be rebuilt over time.

"You can do it," Mark continued his thoughts aloud, "I know you can. Time and time again you defied the odds and emerged victorious. Do it this one last time, old chap. And anyway, you won't be alone. I'm sure you could find our dear Will if you are stuck, but the Attorney will be there waiting for you. They can help you through the changes and bring that light back into the world."

It all seemed so simple and perfect, as Mark once again put back on his mask and left the chamber with a merry hum. It would be perfect once Damien was reunited with his dear Attorney!

A shame he was unaware of their fate...

#writersofmark #who killed markiplier #actor Mark #mark doom #Shattered Heart (Mark Doom)#Broken Reflection (Actor)#(it probably isn't perfect but shhh I'm trying :P )#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#(I'm trying to challenge myself a little when writing the Actor. I try to change the narration style so it might read a little funny #as I try to have it like he himself is telling the story; sorta)

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meanstreetspodcasts · 3 years

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Master of Other People's Minds

Orson Welles was already a celebrated theatrical producer, director, and star by the late 1930s. He financed his productions in part from his earnings as a radio character actor. But he became a household name when he stepped into the spotlight - or, to be more precise into the shadows when he was cast as Lamont Cranston, known to the underworld as The Shadow. The success of the series boosted Welles' popularity outside of the world of Broadway, and it helped to launch him into his own radio broadcast (The Mercury Theatre On the Air).

Welles starred as the Shadow for two seasons - one sponsored by Blue Coal from the fall of 1937 until the spring of 1938, and the second syndicated by Goodrich Tires through that summer. For many of those episodes, Welles was joined by actors he'd work with in the theatre and would go on to work with on screen, particularly Agnes Moorehead (as "the lovely Margot Lane") and Ray Collins (as Commissioner Weston, the Shadow's uneasy ally in the police department). Welles left the role after this stint, but despite his short run he may be the actor most associated with the role today.

In later years, The Shadow would evolve (or devolve, depending on your point of view) into more of a traditional detective series where the hero could turn himself invisible. The Welles broadcasts featured complex plots and a Shadow who could not only "cloud men's minds so they cannot see him." This Shadow could manipulate perception, create hallucinations, and he had no compunction about sending villains to their deaths.

In honor of Orson Welles' birthday, here are ten of my favorite episodes from his run as radio's invisible avenger.

The Temple Bells of Neban - Lamont Cranston receives a blast from the past as he investigates a drug ring running rampant in the city. A touring performer was a young girl in the temple where he learned how to cloud men's minds. Not only does she know his secret identity; she has powers of her own, and she wants the Shadow out of the way so she can enjoy the profits of her deadly drug trade. (October 24, 1937)

Circle of Death - A mad bomber stalks the city, detonating explosives in the middle of crowded areas with no trace of how the bombs are delivered. As panic sweeps through town and Commissioner Weston faces pressure to resign, the Shadow sets a daring trap to identify the madman and end his wave of terror. (11/28/37)

The Death Triangle - This one opens on Devil's Island as a whipped prisoner promises revenge on the men who betrayed his attempt to escape. Years later, a celebrated child surgeon (and former political prisoner of the island) has been targeted for death, and he asks the Shadow to save him from a long-simmering vengeance. (12/12/37)

The Poison Death - People all over the city - old and young alike - are succumbing to mysterious poisonings. The police are baffled, and they're shocked when a note signed by the Shadow claims responsibility for the attacks. Lamont and Margot not only have to save the city from a deranged killer; they also need to clear the Shadow's name. (1/30/38)

The Phantom Voice - The Shadow comes to the aid of an upstanding public servant on trial for accepting a bribe. The senator's fate seems certain when filmed evidence is played in court, but Lamont is unconvinced. He's sure a political fixer is behind it, and he discovers the clever plot set up to bring down an innocent man. (2/6/38)

The Silent Avenger - This episode is surprising not only for its subject matter, but for the compassionate view it takes of the people involved. A killer is sentenced to die in the electric chair, and he enlists the aid of his brother - a World War I veteran sniper suffering debilitating PTSD ("shell shock") - to take vengeance on the jury that convicted him. The ace marksman carries out his brother's wishes as the Shadow races to stop him and hopefully get the man the help he desperately needs. (3/13/38)

The White Legion - Orson Welles and co-star Agnes Moorehead make appearances out of character at the end of this episode - the finale of the first season sponsored by Blue Coal. Before we meet the people behind the Shadow and Margot Lane, there's a story of a political mob resorting to kidnapping and murder to advance their agenda in City Hall. (3/20/38)

The Hypnotized Audience - To save his brother from a date with the electric chair, a celebrated dancer hypnotizes a theater of VIPs and abducts the governor. Only Lamont is immune from the effects of the mesmeric trance, and now it's up to the Shadow to save the governor before midnight. This episode and the next two on the list come from the syndicated summer season sponsored by Goodrich Tires. Most of the cast returned, but Agnes Moorehead was replaced by Margot Stevenson - the actress who inspired the name of the Shadow's friend and companion.

Tenor with a Broken Voice - Lamont and Margot investigate a series of fatal "accidents" plaguing an opera house whenever Pagliacci is sung. Is anyone who steps onto the stage doomed, or will the Shadow uncover the secret and save the day?

Murders in Wax - The capture of a notorious criminal is memorialized in wax at a city museum, but a killer is replacing the figures with the corpses of their real-life counterparts one by one. Commissioner Weston is slated as the next victim if the Shadow can't find the ghoulish murderer.

Check out this episode!

#old time radio #golden age of radio

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