People talk about SQ going on a villain arc, but personally I've always thought he'd be more likely to just shut himself away for a while
He'd fall off the map, become a recluse not because he's trying to hide from his father, or his uncle for that matter, but because he's so confused and mixed up and lost he isn't thinking clearly
He finds an empty old house, one in a little town somewhere in the middle of nowhere, that he can live in. It's in much worse condition than Mr. Benedict's, and he gets to stay because he does farm chores for the nearby people who own the property
A quiet town. No one questions why this boy appeared, and as he keeps to himself no one bothers him
He comes into the general store sometimes, or maybe the hardware store. Buying basic necessities, repair materials, and asking sometimes strange questions with obvious answers in an embarrassed way
Every now and again, he stops by the pet store. Buying a small bird or two and an obscene amount of birdseed
He becomes known as a lonely artist, a mysterious figure the adults ignore for the most part and the children whisper about. He doesn't pay either reaction any mind
SQ's house is full of art
Colour splashed across the floor, tiny vines and butterflies covering the shutters, vibrant shades all over the fan blades. He etches painstakingly accurate bird footprints on every windowsill, sketches large diagrams of feathers and bird wings across most of the walls, because, who's there to tell him no?
He tries to teach himself to whittle, and there are many mishapen lumps of woods that vaguely resemble birds lined up on the back porch. (He knows they're terrible, but he can't bring himself to throw them away. He feels too guilty, after all, he's the one who brought them into existence. If he won't love them, who will?)
And he has a lot of birds. Some were wild ones he befriended, leaving food and nesting material out until they felt comfortable enough to rest in the rafters, flying in and out of the near-always open windows. Some were bird he saw, either sitting in a cage when they had no business to be, or wandering the park looking half frightened and confused. Birds that people had captured from their natural homes and probably smuggled, hoping to pass them off in a small enough town where no one would notice. Some were birds that had been "released" by their previous owners; left to wander an environment that was not their own and to fend for themselves when they'd been raised domesticated
It's these last few he feels for the most. It's not fair, he thinks. There's no one to take care of them, and it isn't their fault they were forced into a situation like this. At some point, someone had hurt them. Had taken advantage of their innocent nature, and it left some scarred.l
Some physically, like the ones who needed their wings splinted, or had lasting limps, or sometimes were even half blind. And sometimes mentally, like those that still shrank back from his touch after months of rehabilitation, or had missing patches of feathers, or would hiss instead of sing
And so he became known as sort of a wild artist. Someone who seemed to know everything about art and birds and the forest, but occasionally could be seen asking how microwaves worked or whether he would have to pay for checking books out of the small local library (He always returned them in perfect condition)
And, eventually, after he's had some time to think, he calls his uncle. He isn't sure how to contact his dad, but he isn't really surprised to hear the two are living together again. They're twins, after all
And so he tells them where he is, tells them that he wants to talk, wants to understand. And to his surprise, they come to him. And they offer apologies, and answers both
While the kids marvel at the birds and his art and the small collection of poetry and naturalist books he's been slowly building up as he shows them around, the adults confer on what it best to do
And he thinks that, if it's offered, he'd like to go back with them. But he isn't sure. And he's still caught off guard when they ask
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"my adult children are lazy and have no dreams and are perfectly content to leech off of me their entire lives!" no!!! you dipshit!!!!! they're several diagnosed types of mentally ill each, unmedicated for all of them through no choices of their own, unable to go anywhere outside the house without parental permission or assistance*, and have repeatedly been outright mocked by you for expressing joy at things they like and jobs they want to have while you claim to always support them!!!!!!! you cannot treat them as failures of completely fine and fully-autonomous adults when you never even finished teaching them the things you think every teenager should learn!!!!!!!!!
*: and even then they're chafing badly enough that they are pushing for ways to work around you! to escape you!!! once they can pedal a bicycle for further than a mile without going into Goddamn cardiac arrest it's fucking over for you!!!!!
(EDIT BECAUSE I WANT TO HAVE THIS HERE BUT ALSO UM: yall ever feel like you're engaged in a cold war that's never actually been declared? bc the increased aggression in the passive-aggressive texts over the past 24 hours (DESPITE the fact that most stuff from the last batch was in fact addressed in a timely fashion) has me like 👁️👁️. mom, dad, if you're reading this, you know you can talk to me like the 24-year-old human person i am, right? not treat me like an impudent teenager who doesn't deserve to make their own choices and should be grateful to even be living with you, then get frustrated when i'm making angry vent-like posts online?)
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i dont know how to word this well but hopefully my point gets across. as ive gone through lots of manga/hwa/huas for the past few years, there's been a lot less hate for fat female characters, and when the author portrays negative traits in them, the comments are always up in arms to defend said character or point out that it was unnecessary and was adding onto a distasteful image of associating fat people = evil in media. that's good!
but i've realised that there's not as much defense or uproar when it's a fat male character? you know the one. they'll be drawn comically fat with tiny features to show that even the author thinks this character is a waste of time to put effort into giving them a design full of character details and an actual Story. they might even be bald in some cases to drive home the "lecherous old man preying on the helpless" image. they'll be bumbling, incompetent, the most inarticulate bastard in the story, and the author wants you to KNOW it. look at this guy. he's obviously meant to be hated. look how pathetic he is and how he pales in comparison with our hero, who is charming, pure snow-white in morality, Has Never Done Anything Wrong Ever.
the trouble is, unlike female fat characters that are often used as a sort of cynical, pessimistic evil whose entire identity is to prove that "sometimes you're ugly both inside and out", that isn't the case for fat male characters. in a way, fat female characters have a "way out", so to speak, because there IS a probable cause that's snowballed the problem until its become a mountain; particularly, the cord that binds how they're expected to perform in society (gender roles, sexism, internalised misogyny) and how they feel they aren't able to escape scrutiny anyways for being ugly, even if they're good. so why not go all the way? what's the use in being halfheartedly acknowledged for who you try to be, when you could be the worst version of yourself, and at least THEN they'll finally look at you proper? so a lot of fat female characters who turn evil are often in this line of thought, i think. despite how much they're trying to break free from the preconceived notions of what people want them to be, it still clashes with their innate desire to be seen, accepted, and loved by other people. so the answer to "redeem" them? simple. accept them. that's enough to write a satisfactory redemption arc to turn them "good" again.
but fat male characters... i've noticed that they're written with crimes much heavier and much more serious than their female counterparts. their appearance is never purely for the sake of psychological friction (stirring the pot, instigating distrust) in the story. we see them drawn with disgusting lustful expressions to show that they haven't moved past primitive desires (they're worse than children—they're children with an adult's ability to get what they want), touching people inappropriately, their minds always turning to the worst possible scenario, their dialogue always written with an undercurrent of narcissism, like the river of his own life was completely empty save for his own self-admiration. is that really all there is to them? how did they manage to get this far in life without ever experiencing or being convinced — or tried to be convinced — to change? has he, in all his years of living, never experienced a shred of empathy for others? has he never felt touched by the connection of another human being?
and then at the end of the story i know it was useless to ask these questions — he only existed as a plot device, as an antagonist for the final climax and resolution, the dragon to be slayed.
but he's not a dragon. he's a human, and despite his current problematic views on life or people, i'd like to try and imagine what it's like to "redeem" him.
but almost always, there IS no way. the author has cut off every possible escape route for him. he was always evil. he can't be helped. he can't change. he was always going to do this, so there's no point in imagining a world where he didn't.
but like. why? why do fat female characters get to be redeemed with the power of Love and Friendship but not him? why is it not enough for him to be bad, he must also be dangerous beyond recourse?
i don't really know the answer to this question, since i'm AFAB and i don't have insight on the matter beyond my own speculations. but the only thing i know is that it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when i see him being toppled over as the final Evil, and everyone cheering in the comments with "i've always found him sus" "finally you disgusting pig" "i hope he never shows up ever again"
i have to say, i don't like the idea, especially in fiction, that people are irredeemable and unworthy of compassion. of course this isn't a plea to forgive them or to get them out of fictional jail or whatever, but i'd at least like to entertain the thought that i want to know the entirety of a person's character before writing them off, and you can do that in stories. i can't do that in real life. i would kill myself trying. sometimes people just hurt you and you have to accept that they hurt you to give yourself express permission to protect yourself.
but in fiction... are you really telling me that a world with dragons can exist but not the possibility of change for a character whose fate was set in stone the moment their shape was carved into existence?
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