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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

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Witch x Witch Hunter AU

You’d be correct in guessing this is a new AU that I have come up with and I have zero idea what to title it yet! I just have to talk about it and that is why we’re doing a different WIP Wednesday this week.

To give a little history on this, I watched a review of a book that I haven’t read (Serpent & Dove) about 3 weeks ago. And it wasn’t until a week later (on my birthday actually) that I went to bed and randomly thought of a way to fix up the driving event of the book. From there my AU quickly spiraled into a novel-length story that I’m piecing together relatively quickly. This has been on my mind ever since I came up with it and I am obsessed with how it’s actually turning out. I am less obsessed with the fact that it will most certainly be 40+ chapters but what can you do about it? The story demands what it demands. I have written down half a notebook for this already and I have managed to get to the outline of chapter 18. I have solid ideas up to chapter 20 and a general sense of how the rest is going to go plus more emotional development of the characters as well as of their relationship.

To summarize briefly - Griffin is a witch who is looking to access Eraklyon’s top secret library/spell reserve. That leaves her having to face Valtor who is a witch hunter. Griffin is in for a nasty surprise when Valtor turns out to have much more powerful magic than she could have anticipated and Valtor is in for a nasty surprise when Griffin manages to stab him with his own blade. In the end of their fight, Valtor captures her and saves her life from the crowd gathering that would have torn her apart. Griffin is a prisoner to the Eraklyon crown and gets sentenced to death at the stake. However, she is offered a deal - marry Valtor to act as his cover for infiltrating the largest and most notorious witch coven and get to live another day. No one’s giving her any guarantees about her safety during the mission or her fate after her job is done and she has a secret she must protect at all costs. To top it all off, the royal family of Domino approaches her with the true agenda behind the mission and she is forced to reevaluate her own priorities and feelings on the public’s general attitude towards witches as well as her interactions with Valtor, who is struggling with the demons of his own past and present.

That was not entirely brief but I have only made it up to chapter 6-7 there. Here is a little sneak peak from chapter 8. Valtor has just informed of all the atrocities the Coven has committed and Griffin is being forced to acknowledge his disgust of witches. Or rather she’s looking for a way to avoid acknowledging it.

“Why would they do that and make everyone hate witches?” As if the general public needed more excuses to murder innocents. Covens were becoming a rarity when the most common safety precaution witches chose to take was solitude. To have the luxury of community and throw it away to make life harder for your own kind, for those witches out there who were on their own... Griffin herself was still worlds away for becoming so jaded by witches’ constant mistreatment that she’d stop caring for the people like herself.

“Because they don’t care about others. Including their own.” Valtor’s eyes had strayed from the memory of her retching over a poor’s girl agonizing death at the stake that should have been hers but there was a certain smugness to his gaze as it challenged her to prove him wrong.

“What if they’re being framed?” That was unlikely but she couldn’t lead a dialogue about nuanced moralities with his refusal to acknowledge the existence of morality in witches. She was having a hard time proving the loyalty between witches as a lone witch and he took her silence as support of his ludicrous notions.

“Why would anyone try to frame them?” Valtor was rather pushing to make her stumble than from honest interest in a continuing debate.

“To get rid of them.” Out of all people she would’ve thought he’d grasp the objective. “I told you - royals fear dark magic because it’s powerful.” Without the shackles that had been on her wrists or the chip in her neck that could blow up her magic Erendor and Samara’s crowns would have been nothing more but clay in her hands. She could have fashioned their demise with the snap of her fingers and the only person that could have stopped her was also forced to obey their will.

“It’s dangerous,” Valtor sounded like they’d put a whole new brain in him instead of just chipping him.

“You have it.” And he was a rare case of voluntary possession of magic. So many witches she’d met would have traded their magic for some peace and safety but he’d chosen to have it instead. He didn’t have the moral high ground to stand on.

“Which is how I know it. Negative emotions are a hazard to society in and of themselves. Add magic that is powered by them and we’re witnessing catastrophe after catastrophe caused by the coven you’re defending.” He wasn’t going to use her own points against her. He’d already stolen her life and her magic.

“If they weren’t necessary, they wouldn’t exist.” Dark magic wouldn’t exist either without purpose but his delusion was far too grand for that to reach through it.

“Are you telling me that I had to go through the...” Valtor swallowed, and then again - all the words he was discarding from fear, “pain I was put through?” He balled his fists and Griffin’s muscles tensed. He needed her alive, not necessarily untouched.

“That’s not what I meant.” How could she tell him he’d deserved to have his body defiled and his heart poisoned with hate? He’d brought on so much pain under the reign of his own. How could she stand to watch that cycle repeat over and over again? “I mean negative emotions in general, not in specific instances. In certain situations it is more appropriate to feel negative emotions. It wouldn’t be right not to feel sad over the loss of someone you care about.”

Valtor looked away again, his hands clasped together in his lap. Whatever he was holding in his white-knuckled grip on himself wasn’t good.

“You would want to be angry at something wrong,” Griffin licked her lips. Finding the similarities between the two of them wasn’t easier for her than it was for him. The song from their car ride was echoing in her head. Their favorite. “Without loneliness you’ll never know you want another’s presence. Fear tells you what you need to reshape to have a better life. Without any of that how can you be human?”

Valtor pounced off the bed, shoulders shaking as he turned his back on her like a wall he raised between them. “There was nothing humanly about Belladonna. She was a monster,” his voice was so low it dove below what she could hear every time he lost a grip on the trembling of it.

“Yes, a monster who happened to be a witch.” He hadn’t shown Griffin much humanity either. It only made him more human as he struggled with the weakness he’d forced her to endure as well. “Not all witches are like that. Haven’t you seen positive emotions in me, anything good at all?” Granted, she hadn’t had any reason to smile since she’d met him but that just made her more human, too, as she pushed through to find some sliver of happiness or at least something to hold on to.

Valtor whipped around, the motion so abrupt that Griffin’s stomach curled in a ball as she held her breath. He was going to crumble in pieces right there in the middle of their hotel room.

“That’s different,” Valtor croaked out, the words coming out as if he was chewing glass while he spoke just to shred them. His eyes were so wide his face had to have changed proportions permanently to accommodate his bewilderment.

“It is because you’ve never spent enough time with a witch to see anything but terror and aggression.” Griffin had to swallow tears. If not for him, then at least for the witches he’d tortured and killed just because of the evil he’d been raised with. “I am capable of all the same emotions that you feel and so are other witches. Maybe not all of them, but we’re not all evil either.” She’d caught him before he’d frozen in his own space of mind again. She had to keep him on that thin edge where she’d gotten him to meet her world. “Anyone who knows you’re a demon would think you’re an abomination, too. But you’re not, are you? You can feel something good.” Whatever sick pleasure or relief he got from murdering was not something she’d count even if it were the first thing coming to mind. But she’d seen him relax as he’d sat in the driver’s seat, had seen him tap his fingers on the steering wheel in tact with the music, had seen him radiate joy when he’d been in his element.

Valtor’s voice was hardly a whisper as his gaze burned into her eyes. “I don’t know. What does your book say?”

Griffin clutched at the pages to keep the book in her lap as she staggered. She’d pushed against the world telling her she was a monster but Valtor had only had the strength to free himself from his abuser, not from the darkness instilled in him as well. “What does your heart say?”

He gave her a soulless chuckle. “Which one? The one I ate or the one that was eaten?” His fingers twitched and closed into his shirt. He had to pry it out of his grip with his other hand to avoid tearing it off to reopen the scar on his chest. “I don’t think either one of them has felt anything good, ever.”

“There’s always a first time, right?” She was a first for him no matter what he said. Their marriage was just a cover but the blade in his hand had been real, and his murderous intent had been as tangible as the shackles on her wrists suppressing her magic. And he’d dropped it before she’d been any use for his mission.

Valtor didn’t say anything but his peace of mind was restored to let him sit back on the bed next to a witch he had to share it with.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #witch x witch hunter au #my wips #my fanfic #wip wednesday #excerpt #snippet #fanfic snippet

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

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Preference: Love Languages

Characters: Cassian Andor, Erik the Phantom, Poe Dameron, Bruce Wayne, & Clark Kent

Cassian Andor

How He Receives:

Cassian is a very tough nut to crack: He’s aloof, he’s driven, he has a seemingly one-track mind, and he’s definitely the least open member of the Rogue One Squad -- and that’s saying something! These traits only seem to become more evident when approaching him from a more romantically-driven angle . . . However, he’s most certainly not a glacier: Even the most glaring of Rebels has a heart, and Cassian is no exception. If one does the math, it eventually becomes apparent that the best way to warm this man up is through quality time.

Admittedly, it’s quite shocking to think this. After all, there are no tricks or double meanings to quality time. It’s exactly as it says on the tin: Drawing feelings of love and acceptance from spending time with someone you love. Be it while doing tasks together or talking or just sitting and enjoying one another’s company, quality time ultimately boils down to feeling seen and heard by just having your loved one near you. (In addition, it’s also often associated with down time, which can especially be seen as a plus in the eyes of a ranking official in a war effort.)

The idea that someone like Cassian could harness love from being around another person so often just plain puzzles you. After all, he’s not exactly known for being the most welcoming, or even the most eager for downtime. Indeed, Cassian himself may find himself in denial of seeking attention like that.

But really, as much as he may refuse to show it or even believe it, he really appreciates being shown this kind of attention. He’s more or less resigned himself to the life of a cog, helping to keep the machine of the Rebellion going by doing his part. He may not necessarily voice contentment over this, but given that he’s given so much of his life to the cause, there are few other options he sees for himself. At least, he thinks. He honestly doesn’t acknowledge to himself just how deep he does, what his wants are, who he is separate from his actions and traumas.

But by spending time with his partner, he’s given the chance to confront himself: He can talk to you and have you talk right back to him. He’s given a chance to simultaneously learn more about you and also about himself. He can feel seen, he can feel heard! Because when he gets quality time with you, he’s no longer Cassin Andor, Captain of the Rebellion, deadly sniper and veteran spy: He’s just Cassian. Cassian Jeron Andor: A man trying to do right by the future while at the same time trying to confront his past after so many years of avoiding it. More importantly, though, he’s your Cassian. Which is as far from being any old cog as one gets.

How He Gives:

Unlike his personal love language, how Cassian expresses care can actually go deeper than what its name suggests. The thing about giving gifts is that the gift need not necessarily be tangible: Sometimes it can be a gesture, an action that doesn’t qualify as an act of service, anything that could be perceived as a fundamental expression of how someone loves you. At their root, the giving and reception of gifts revolves around the idea that it is literally “the thought that counts.”

And for Cassian, you are on his mind when he decides to bequeath you with the gift of being able to defend yourself. Is it a strange gift? Absolutely. Is it advantageous? Most assuredly. Most of all, is it terribly important to Cassian that he gives you this? Beyond words.

Deep in love or slowly falling, you’re doing so in the midst of a war: One can never be too careful. And given that at any moment, the enemy could locate the base or one side of the partnership could be deployed on a dangerous mission, it’s better than have and not need the ability to knock a trooper unconscious than to need and not have the ability. Cassian has already lost so much in his life; he doesn’t have any desire to have one of his remaining loved ones added to the list.

In the event he can’t be there to protect you, he needs to know you can at least put up a fight well enough to possibly escape. So when he teaches you how to shoot or how to participate in hand to hand contact, or even teaches you how to combat Empire weaponry using items stolen from their stocks, it’s because he has you in mind. He has the image of a safe you in mind, to be more specific.

Because even if he can’t be there, he wants some trace of himself with you when you most need it. After all, the greatest gift one can receive is the gift of their partner being there for them. In Cassian’s case, if he can’t be with you physically, he’ll for damn sure make certain he’s on your mind in a way that will keep you alive.

Erik

How He Receives:

At this point, Erik’s love language could best be described as “yes.”

The man has gone throughout so much of his life lacking in various forms of all five, so it would be difficult to say at first what the best approach would be. Hell, it wouldn’t be far off to assume that regardless of what he truly felt, he would bend over to receive love however you gave it to him: He would consume every last drop as though it were the final beads of rain in the desert. However, it should be noted Erik seems to respond particularly well to words of affirmation and physical touch. Or, at least, these are the languages he appears to be most in search of.

This, of course, is unsurprising: Of all the things Erik has been denied in life, recognition of his humanity, abilities, and worth, and the kindly touch of another, are the most prominently missing. Consequently, it’s no wonder he desperately seeks someone to praise his genius. The problem, however, is that he’s become so lacking in either that his search for one or the other has more intensified natures than the average person’s.

For example, it may seem arrogant (and, to a point, it is), but considering Erik associates his worth with his talents and what he can contribute, it’s no wonder he snarks or even throws fits when he feels he’s been underappreciated. He considers himself too proud to fish for compliments, but you wouldn’t be sure what else to call it when you notice him leaning in ever so slightly, eagerness twinkling in his eyes when he asks you for your input on one of his most recent projects.

More tragically, however, is the situation regarding physical touch. Modern psychology would recognize Erik as being somewhere along the autism spectrum. For the time, however, all Erik knew was that he had a certain sensitivity to things: Sounds, some smells, heavy light, and, indeed, some sensations of touch. The aversion to touch flickered, however, much like candlelight: There would be long periods where Erik would crave the feeling of another, followed by brief moments where he couldn’t stand the idea of anything touching him and vice versa. Some days, he would feel content in his robe, one of the few things he’d escaped Persia with; other days, it, as well as any other seemingly gentle fabric, would feel scratchy or dry on his skin.

Nevertheless, Erik wanted to become familiar with the feeling of someone else. Particularly, he wanted to become familiar with the feeling you. The unfortunate nature of it all was that Erik’s touch-starved nature would sometimes collide with his touch-aversion tendencies, leaving him a frustrated (and, at their worst, trembling) mess. He, of course, chalks it up to him being overwhelmed from lack of experience, but it certainly doesn’t help anything. He’s already gone this long without so much as over one kiss to his name, most touches being through some reckless nature.

And now that he finally has in his life someone to touch him as though he were a beloved pet, to kiss him as lovers are meant to . . . It’s simply not fair! He’ll be damned more than he already has been if he lets what he perceives as fear get in the way of himself and your affections!

In his stubbornness, he tends to push forward on the craving regardless of how much it will cause him to shiver and tense: Even if it only means your pinky wrapping around his, he wants your physical company upon his own. He will brave all that he must until he can no longer bear it!

Praise him. Call him your angel. Tell him he’s brilliant. Tell him he’s good. All while hugging him, or rubbing the smoother parts of his scalp, or gently stroking a thumb on his cheek (blemished or not, he won’t force you to touch what you don’t want to). Truly, to be seen and felt in ways of affection is how people are meant to be loved, in Erik’s book.

How He Gives:

On the rare occasions he’s been accepted or tolerated in his life, it’s usually been in relation to what Erik could provide for the other party involved, romantically or not. Be it to use his skills to carry out a murder task, or to create for them gifts beyond their wildest dreams, Erik has since learned (or at least been led to believe) that one of the best ways to please someone is to provide for them.

As a result, anyone who’s caught the eye of the Phantom of the Opera need not be shocked when they find him in their services as a tutor, or pulling strings behind the scenes to help their goals be achieved within the opera house. Case in point, with Christine, he offered to teach her to sing, he tried to raise her status as an ensemble member to the prima donna of the Opera Populaire, etc. Sure, his methods were not ideal, but to Erik, these were simply acts of service and providing her intangible but nonetheless important gifts meant to help her along in life in some way, albeit with traces of his own selfishness intertwined. (Not that he may have necessarily even noticed it at first. Remember: He gave her his music; he gifted her with something very important to him that he still wanted her to have.)

While he’s since thankfully dampened down on his methods, the language he speaks to any new and special person remains: If you have caught his eye and/or heart, he wants you to know your importance to him the only way he really knows how: He wants to provide you with peeks into his little world, to express to you what he finds difficult to do in words. Erik is not inarticulate in the least, but he truly does feel his actions speak more of his soul than his words sometimes can.

So from this, be prepared to find projects of yours completed after spending night upon night struggling to keep up. Do not be alarmed when you find letters in your working station with tips or secrets that ultimately help you along the way. Cherish those days when you find small morsels of your favorite pastries (don’t question how he got them), or if he lets you be the first person to lay eyes upon his newest masterpiece. He’s doing all he can to help you, even if sometimes it must be from afar. He is, after all, your most devoted and obedient servant.

Poe Dameron

How He Receives:

Poe Dameron: the Resistance’s golden boy. Always committed, always ready to go, and always ready to lend a helping hand. It therefore stands to suggest that the devoted general deserves some help right back. After all, being a general is a tough job: He has to make tough calls, disperse troops as necessary, direct the flow of the Resistance’s counters, and so forth -- all while keeping a calm and reasonable countenance. He wants to do everyone proud, but admittedly it does take a lot out of him.

Hence why with him, acts of service can go a long way.

To the average person, this may come off as just doing chores: Helping mind his resting quarters, relaying messages as necessary, bringing him things he may need, making sure he eats and sleeps regularly enough, making sure subordinates stay on task and don’t distract him from larger responsibilities in favor of more tedious endeavors . . . This couldn’t possibly be what endears a bold and confident hero like General Dameron, right?

Actually, it is: When someone performs an act of service, they’re telling their special someone that they love and care about them enough to help take a few things off their plate. And when somebody best receives love through another’s efforts, it means they see that their own personal time and work is, in fact, appreciated! Poe feels loved and cared for when he has someone who knows that in spite of his hero status, he really is just a man: He has limits, he has his doubts sometimes in the dark. Being General Leia Organa’s successor means he has big, big shoes to fill, and even though everyone has faith in him, it’s all too easy for him to potentially put himself into overdrive and risk even his health.

When one wants to show Poe that they love and care for him, to do really is to love.

(Additionally, if you tend to BB-8′s maintenance and make sure his X-Wing is in tip top shape, it tells him that you also care about the things he values beyond his job and regular functioning. BB-8 is his best buddy, and his X-Wing is symbolic of his first love: Flying. When you respect these two pillars of Poe’s life, that’s how he knows you see him for him.)

How He Gives:

There are many great things that could be said about Poe Dameron: That he’s handsome, that he’s brave, that he’s not afraid to take a risk (though how great of a thing this might be can be debated), and so much more. But one of the most underappreciated yet blessedly wonderful things about this man is that he has just as many wonderful things to say right back! He has a natural ability to lead and instill confidence, so it is only natural that his way with words translates into his way with love: Words of affirmation is Poe’s game, and he plays it hard.

Because of how ready he is to commend another, it’s rather easy to assume that perhaps he’s just using run-of-the-mill, one-size-fits-all compliments. However, this is far from the truth: The truth is, Poe can see beauty and skill in all kinds of ways, and he’s not afraid to openly appreciate the ones whom he sees it in. As a result, everything he says is steeped in genuineness, often at the perfect time (sometimes without his target ever even knowing they needed it).

His partner, of course, is far from and beyond being an exception.

Your days are filled with constant reminders of your worth, with praises and comments prompted by him acknowledging your efforts.

You successfully run a drill known for its difficulty? He congratulates you with, “Great job!”

Your learning of a new skill, regardless of how minor it may seem to the unappreciative, is greeted with statements of how proud of you he is.

A long day of running errands for him, or helping him clean up his plate of duties is acknowledged with a tired but nevertheless warm, “Thank you, Starlight . . .”

Admittedly, it can potentially come off as a bit much. He couldn’t possibly see so much in you worth talking about, right? In actuality, he truly does: Contrary to popular presumptions, Poe isn’t nearly as arrogant as people believe him to be, and he easily recognizes how strength and bravery comes in all shapes, sizes, and wars. He can appreciate all the efforts one applies, and he wants them to appreciate themselves right back. Hence why, whether it’s over your skills or perseverance, Poe will always be there to remind you he’s in your corner, watching you with pride in his eyes.

You’re a hero in your own way, in both the Resistance and in your own life, and you deserve to know that about yourself. He sees you, he appreciates you, he loves you for all that you are, and even the bits that you’re not.

And even though it’s so easy to want to doubt him, there’s something so warm and honest about the way he looks at you when he says, “I love you” . . . You just can’t help but know it’s the truth.

Of course, it should also be noted that even once the war winds down and he no longer has drills or base errands to appreciate you over, the praises will not stop. This man has a nebula’s worth of affirmations waiting for you, in his vice, in little messages he leaves for you, in holoimages you find whenever he has to go out.

“I would never want life with anybody else,” he tells you every chance he gets. And every time, it’s accompanied with a warm smile that reaches his eyes. It’s enough warmth to fire up an entire galaxy’s worth of stars, with each one representing something about you to love, adore, and cherish. He would mark them all in a star chart if you would let him.

Bruce Wayne

How He Receives:

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce . . . How does one begin to solve an enigma like Bruce? The thing about him being the Prince of Gotham and an all around very public figure is that everyone likes to make their own assumptions about him: That he’s cold, that he’s selfish, that he’s an idiot, or that he’s, well, a slut. And certainly, the philandering playboy image he’d projected in his youth did nothing to suggest otherwise, but it should be stated upfront that Bruce is and always will be an enigma far beyond first impressions, even to ones who love him and are a part of his personal life.

Case in point, it may come as both expected and a surprise that the man's love language actually veers more in the physical touch territory. It's a bit expected because, once again, he is known for being a bit more playful with women in the public eye in the past. However, as his lover in a much more healthy and intendedly long-term relationship, you learn that, much like Bruce, it goes far deeper than that.

The thing about physical touch is that it is both a fundamental way of expressing love, while also requiring a lot of understanding between those involved in order for it to have the best turnout.

Everyone assumes that Bruce will accept any touch, so long as it comes from the hands of any pretty thing. And while it is true that lapses in judgement and moments of desperation have led to Bruce letting his guard down, the fact of the matter still stands: Not all touches are created equal. Not every spot will illicit the same response, and, surprisingly, not every applicant will either.

There have, unfortunately, been many hands seemingly placed on his shoulders or face that would start off sweet and trusting, only to turn into slaps or harsh grips, long nails digging into him in a moment of distress. Without going into too much detail, it’s sufficient to just say that these instances have consequently led to Bruce becoming increasingly on guard about who he lets touch him, causing him to become more and more touch starved than what he already was.

Getting close enough for Bruce to let down his walls was by far not an easy task. But by far, your greatest accomplishment was getting Bruce to trust you enough to know: Your caresses had no dubious intentions. He’d spent so long expecting you to turn around and prove you were using him, taking advantage of his need for another’s physical attention to get whatever you wanted. After all, that’s how it went in the past with others.

But with you . . . With you, Bruce has come to find that it’s . . . different. He’s learned that your hand is resting on his cheek to pillow his weary head, to gently scratch the scruff beginning to form after working long hours into the night after night after night. While your massages on his aching back may lead to intimacy, it doesn’t have to; and when it does, it’s accompanied not by sickeningly sweet words made to threaten to tear him down. And speaking of intimacy, you don’t use it as a tool: You use it as a means of communicating with him. You want to actually be with him, in that moment, and let him know that for every second you are bound in this way, you love and adore him for who he is.

It’s hard to imagine, but the big, strong Dark Knight often finds himself seeking your touch throughout the day. He’s good at hiding it and composing himself otherwise, of course, but that’s regularly only to a point. In private, he leans in ever so slightly, his eyes quietly begging for you to embrace him. You care about his vulnerabilties, his needs for gentle touches, and even though they sate him, he’s always left wanting more. For even though he is supposedly a man who has everything, he will always be selfish for your unselfish touches.

How He Gives:

Once again, there was almost a sense of predictability revolving around Bruce’s main manner of showing love. After all, where was the shock in a billionaire resorting to gifting his partner with material goods? Indeed, this unfortunate expectation easily led to some corruption and exploitation, but the fact of the matter stood: At its root, Bruce never meant to necessarily spoil the ones whom he tried to be with; he merely wanted to provide for them tangible happiness, things that would let them know he’d thought about them. But, of course, bad company makes for bad reception: The socialites and femme fatales that had slinked in and out of his life were all too ready and willing to milk what they could from their other half.

Any “wronged” lovers would give him the cold shoulder until it was warmed by some fancy coat or couture leather jacket; they would demand to be pacified by the crystalline beaches of some far off location that would no doubt look great on their social media; fancy bags, tickets to shows Bruce could never wrap his head around, the latest gadgets and trendy things – he was more than willing to provide them if it meant she understood and appreciated his efforts and affections.

Of course, they never really did. And, of course, this left an impression on Bruce.

He hadn’t meant to be so cynical by the time your relationship with him came to be, but suspicion had become second nature. As did his tendency to give half-hearted gifts in order to supposedly appease you. (Of course, he could have potentially tried to learn a new method of showing his care, but that is neither here nor there; gift-giving just seemed to come most naturally to him.) He didn’t necessarily mean to lump you in with the rest, of course, but none of the relationships previous had ever allowed him to think the possibility of there even being an “otherwise.”

And while you didn’t necessarily mind receiving nearly weekly parcels of dresses and jewelry and the latest tech, part of you did admittedly feel somewhat stifled by it all. And cold. But maybe this was how Bruce truly did show his love? And who were you to conduct how he did so, much less reject his offerings? And so, as a result, a wordless dance between the two of you had been initiated: Bruce would buy what he thought you wanted, and you would accept if only because you felt you needed to in order to show your acceptance of his life. It wasn’t until Bruce had given you a postcard, however, that the tide had turned.

He hadn’t thought too terribly much of the thing when he’d sent it to you from Amnesty Bay during a recon of sorts; of course, he’d been thinking of you, but as far as he knew, you were probably thinking of him bringing back something valuable. (If only the sleepy, seaside town actually had anything worth so much.) What he hadn’t expected was to see it perched on your nightstand when he returned.

“I like having it nearby me when I go to sleep,” you sheepishly admitted. “It’s small but . . . Well, you were thinking of me even when you were ‘doing your thing’ out there, and it feels really . . . nice . . .”

“Nice?” he repeated, a brow raised.

“Nice,” you confirmed, cheeks burning.

. . . Hm. He couldn’t help but note that you hadn’t fidgeted like that after he gave you the diamond tennis bracelet he’d picked up on the way back.

Smartest detective in the world, his foot: Maybe . . . There was a slight chance he’d been going about this the wrong way. And the more he tested this theory, the more that slight chance began to look even bigger: It was when he remembered things like your favorite meals, both at home and when dining out; it was when he brought home your favorite snacks after a particularly rough week; it was when he remembered dates that were important to you, or added small things to your growing collections of your choice.

Those were the moments where you felt connected to him. Those were the moments when you felt Bruce’s love for you. It was in the intangible some days, and in others, the tiny gestures that left you feeling large amounts of warmth within. Certainly, as time went on, you became more accepting of the larger objects sent your way, but it was only after Bruce genuinely applied his thoughts of you in order to guide him more properly. In the end, you didn’t need big items, big gestures, or really anything with a big price tag to appreciate him or acknowledge that he cared. All you really needed what to know he was there, ready and willing to make you as happy as you wanted to make him.

And, in a way, by relearning to give you gifts, Bruce was inadvertently gifted right back: He was reminded why giving gifts had become his go-to method. Certainly, it had started off as means to show his ability to provide, but it had long since evolved. Specifically, it had matured into something more healthy and beautiful, healed from its wounds and exploitation.

Because so long as he thought of you, there was always something around him – something he could do – that was suddenly made all the more beautiful for being associated with you.

Clark Kent

How He Receives:

Superman was a polarizing figure: For every news article recounting his amazing feats and daring rescues, there were at least three or five think pieces on his alien nature, or conspiracy podcast episodes dedicated to defining his malevolence. And while it admittedly made for a rough start in his heroing career (after all, even the weight of worry was a bit much for the world’s strongest man to properly handle), the Last Son of Krypton had thankfully since learned to stop investing so much stock into these sorts of criticisms. To a point anyway.

After all, a few words of affirmation never hurt anyone. Least of all the Man of Steel – or rather, his alter ego, Clark Kent.

Despite the fact that he had been Superman for at least three years by this point, Clark’s complex relationship with compliments and declarations give his relationship with you a bit of a bumpy start. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the concept of compliments and being appreciated – he’d gotten plenty of it for his deeds. For what it was worth, in three short years, love for Superman had made an almost complete 180 from the previously dour position. But, then again, that was the problem: He knew adoration as Superman – but Clark barely knew appreciation as himself.

It was easier to accept that sort of thing when you were a public figure: All you needed to do was smile and puff out your muscular chest and speak in a clear and precise voice as blazing and bright as the sun that powered you. Simple stuff. There were plenty courses and even tutorials on how to be a public figure and how to appreciate praise. But nobody talks about how to do it when one is a supposedly sheepish, poorly-postured man of humble means, just trying to make his way in the big city. Probably because when one is such a man, not much is expected of him, much less something actually worth touching upon.

To your credit, you didn’t know this was something he needed. And to his own, he didn’t really recognize it, either. He’d spent so much of his life lately being dedicated to being Superman that he quietly began to neglect himself as a man in multiple areas of his life; why ever would he think about how he needed to receive love when he has to focus on keeping the city clean of crime? You thought he wanted you to appreciate him for such a nigh-on impossible feat! After all, not just anyone could brag that their boyfriend stopped a hostage situation, blew out a fire in a single breath, and lifted a derailed train back into an upright position, all in one afternoon! But the more and more you complimented him on such matters, the less and less you came to actually agree with your methods.

Not because you became used to and even bored with Clark’s Supermanning, but because the more you paid attention, the more you noticed that Clark, well, wasn’t beaming. You knew the difference between happy-for-the-public Supes and genuinely-happy Supes – there was a certain light missing in Clark’s eyes whenever you would congratulate him on a job well-down with a robbery or what have you.

Still, he would thank you for it, flashing you that glorious smile of his: “All in a day’s work, sweetheart!”

Even the tone with which he used wasn’t authentic to his true self.

You found yourself racking your brain as the days progressed. Maybe he was a different love language altogether? It was a bit presumptuous of you to assume this was the proper method, though, wasn’t it?

You haven’t even been meaning to think about it the moment it came to you; all you were trying to do was let Clark know how much you appreciated the meal he’d prepared. A less busy day for Superman was still plentiful for the average man Clark was trying to be; you never would have pressured him to come home and start cooking, much less a dish he’d only just recently found out about!

But that was simply how Clark was: He always went above and beyond, more than happy to take care of you whenever he could.

“Oh, wow!” you gasped between forkfuls. “You’ve really outdone yourself tonight; you really didn’t have to, Sweetie!” You glanced up just in time to see Clark’s face pinken ever so slightly.

“Oh!” he responded. “Well, you know . . . I just followed the recipe and went by intuition, that’s all . . .” And that was when you knew you were on to something. There were a million tells: The tensing, the flicker in his eyes, the clumsy smile . . . But most telling of all was his deflection: Clark never used deflection when accepting his usual bout of compliments.

But just to be certain, you carried on just a bit further. In the weeks to come, you would bring attention to the things Clark did -- specifically as Clark: You would appreciate aloud how he would do chores or bring home groceries even when he didn’t have you; you’d remind him of how handy he was around the apartment, using his farm-grown resourcefulness to fix little problems like a broken door; or, when reading over his submission for the Daily Planet, you would compliment him on his writing and thought process. And, as you’d come to expect, the same responses would follow: A split-second glimmer, a wobbly smile that carried blush, and an insistence that, “Oh, it was nothing” or “No need to mention it, it’s fine.”

In short, everything that was less Superman and more Clark. And that was how you knew you were on the right track.

While it did come with a learning curve for both parties (for you, you needed to learn what did and didn’t appeal as a Clark-specific affirmation; for Clark, he actually needed to learn that there was plenty about himself worth affirming at all), stability and a better understanding of the situation did come your way. The deflections lessened to mere extinction after a point (though the sheepishness still stayed for the most part).

Of course, there were still threats of lapsing back into disbelief on Clark’s part. After all, just because you, as Superman’s partner, had figured out his preferred way of being appreciated, didn’t mean that the rest of the world could possibly know or stop how they gave him there’s. But at the end of the day, Clark supposed that that was what made it all the more special.

At the end of the day, after all the “You’re so strong!”s and corny “What a man!”s, he could just come home and be greeted with much more personal, “Thank you for responding to my message earlier; it was very thoughtful of you!”s, or “I read your latest article; not too shabby”s. Or his absolute favorite: “You’re my hero.”

How He Gives:

There’s no point in mincing it when even complete strangers experienced how Clark showed his love for the world: Every act of heroism Clark did was an act of service to all. But where you got off on the long end of the stick was when you had to acts all to yourself. Sure, 10% of the local population could recount how Superman had saved them from a nasty fall or retrieved their poor kitty from a tree -- but how many of them could say that they had Superman helping them clip coupons so that they would be prepared for the next visit to the grocery store? Just you? You’re darn skippy!

Sure, Clark’s alter ego was in the service of all. But you had an ace up your sleeve: The intimacy and closeness of a working relationship! This meant you got the more personal acts of service; things that made you two look like a normal couple.

Clark would happily gather groceries for the household; do the dishes without complaint after you’d cooked; pick up the laundry on his way back if you hadn’t already; overall, the works! Of course, you had been very hesitant when you discovered that this was Clark’s way of displaying his love to you: He was already running himself ragged as a superhero, right? Why was he doing all these extra chores!? True, you certainly didn’t mind having some extra tasks in your day being taken care of (not everyone had the same super speed or ability to take care of a major problem in record timing, after all), but the idea of being a burden toy your already overworked boyfriend worried you. You began to seriously worry that perhaps there was something you were doing that suggested to him that this was what you wanted, and it clearly showed in your nervous expressions or uncertain eyes after the fifth time he proudly told you he’d given the entire apartment a clean sweep.

You had meant to do that, but traffic on the way home kept you busy . . .

“It’s okay,” Clark insisted, eyes earnest. “I like being able to take some worries out of the way for you. Cleaning the apartment is easy compared to what I do on a regular basis.”

You pressed your lips together, uncertain. “Yeah, but that’s just it: You have a regular basis. A very crazy one. I don’t want you to focus on all this . . . tedious stuff when I can just do that. You focus on the weird, power-y villain stuff, I focus on the mundane -- isn’t that what we agreed on? Wordlessly??”

Clark frowned. “No . . . There was never an agreement. At least, not like that. The only thing we ever agreed on was that we wanted to be together. . . . And that we liked this apartment. But I digress: We wanted to be together. And when I do things like this, it shows how much being with you means to me. I like making sure our home life is secure and clean. After all, if my girl back home is upset, then what kind of man would I be?” You were quiet, certain he was being rhetorical -- “A not very super man, that’s what.” If that smile of his weren’t so darling, you would’ve been tempted to wipe it off his face.

But you did see his point. And it did take a bit of time to get used to it. Of course, you refused to let your ability to do your share fall to the wayside: If you were able to do a chore or run errands, then you were on it! But . . . far be it from you to not appreciate your super man for the things that he did, when he could!

In the event you’d beaten him to the tasks, however, Clark would still have one last thing up his skin-tight sleeves: Physical touch.

Everyone knows this man has the strength necessary to uproot and transport an entire building. It’s enough to even cause some nervousness to the average person: How careful was he with his strength? How easy was it for him to forget himself and actually break something --or someone? Was being held by him a risk at the expense of the wellness of one’s bones? The answers were simple: He was very careful with his strength; not as easy as it had once been, but he’d long since come into his own sense of control; and not really, actually.

Who knew that the Man of Steel had a touch of kittens made out of clouds? Well, 10% of the local population, but also and especially You because whereas everyone else would experience a carry of some kind into safety, you got a carry into bed. Or the couch. Or even just his lap!

Really, the roughest Clark ever hazards with you is when a long day has left your back feeling stiff and in need of a gentle, gentle pop. He is more than happy to oblige, knowing that it’s giving you a sense of satisfactory (as well as doubling up as an act of service, or so he claims).

Clark loves cuddles, and he’s more than happy to share them with you as a reminder of just how special you are to him. After all, nobody else in the city can claim that they get to be spooned by the strongest and most sweetest man on Earth! Because out of all the people he comes into contact with on a regular basis, be it on the streets as a civilian, or in the midst of a crisis being brought down to control, you’re the one that matters most to Clark. He may be the world’s Superman, but let’s make one thing clear: He will only ever be your super man.

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nafeary · 4 years

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“Midnight Lovers”

⚬ Pairing: Arthur/Reader

⚬ Characters: Arthur; mentions of Isaac, Sebas, and Comte

⚬ Word count: ca. 1K

⚬ Warnings: very mild mention of a drug ...and goat testicles don’t ask

✧✎ Synopsis: You are plagued by the guilt of being unable to help your friend overcome his fever, thus working yourself through book after book. Arthur would rather want you to rest and appreciate yourself more— and to stop looking at obscure medical books, while you’re at it.

✧✎ A/N: So, a sweet sweet anon requested some Arthur fluff with an overthinking MC/Reader, with a moodboard (but my dumbass deleted the request because I’m utterly inept), so here it is. I took inspiration from this tumblr @foxes-in-love who makes the most adorable little comics I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Also, thank you @juminly for slapping my doubts away! I love you so so so much!

Also, yes, they did indeed use heroine back in the day to treat coughs... make sure to drink water y’all!!!

“Luv? Are you still in here?”

A suave voice rang throughout the library you had holed yourself up in, its familiar rhythm soothing your nerves like the sweetest of honeys.

It was unreasonably late. The entire mansion had fallen still like an unperturbed pond, completely hushed. Ever so often, the storm outside would make itself noticeable, threatening some lonely souls daring enough to venture outside. Its distress was not unlike your mood, thoughts spurning multiple worst-case scenarios in an effort to keep you awake, to gather solutions.

Overthinking had always been troubling for you, relentlessly trickling poison into your ears, contrary to all dictates of common sense.

“I’m over here, Arthur,” you called out to your lover, grateful, albeit apprehensive, for the distraction.

You tilted your head in the direction of the echoing steps, alabaster rays serving as nothing but an enhancer for his already devilish handsome looks. Cool ocean waves illuminated by the moon’s ivory blush crashed upon you as he fully came into view, carrying the salty breeze alongside him. This magnificent view made you halt for a split second, simply marveling at the sight of the handsome man.

Your handsome man.

“Shouldn’t you be beside me by now? It’s quite lonely in bed, I’ll have you know.” His arms cocooned you gently, contrasting his words of ambiguous comfort.

He yelped slightly as you caught some of his skin between your nails, eliciting a soft giggle from you at his histrionic antics, effectively vanishing any sleepy stupor you were falling prey to. Nonetheless, you fell into his embrace, moulding together like long lost puzzle pieces. This instance of tenderness and care engulfed your heart, the warmth of his dexterous hands imbuing through your own skin and reminding you starkly that you were very much alive.

“What are you reading, anyway?”, he inquired with a pout, kissing your ear gingerly from behind, “You can’t possibly be still strung up on ‘ol Newt.”

At the mention of the physicist, your brows pinched together, and the all so wonted stagnation of fear squeezed uncomfortably around your lungs, forcing a sigh ridden with the distress of helplessness from you.

Earlier this week, Isaac had fallen prey to a bout of fever once again, and both Arthur and Sebastian had been busy running their respective errands. While le Comte had requested for a doctor, the weather made it far to dangerous for any mortal to venture to their mansion. Cold rags were only able to aid inadequately, leaving you with no volition but to watch his battle; volatile series of wretched coughs prompted your tears to flow, unable to lend your dead friend a helping hand.

While Arthur had long since taken care of him, you wanted to be prepared to not be contingent on the modern medicine you grew up with. Should any misfortune befall onto the residents, the people who had welcomed you with open arms, you couldn’t keep clinging to other’s white coats— you had to become one yourself.

“Just some rather... obscure medical books,” you replied to his previous question, “I’m trying to find some different ways to treat a cough that does not involve the use of drugs.”

“Ah, you’ve mentioned your distaste of heroine.”

You snorted, amused by the mind of the 19th century doctor. “Distaste is one word for an addictive poison. You do know th—“

Abruptly, the author launched himself on top the desk you were occupying, covering your sight from the book you had been reading. “Arthur... what in the world...?” He laid vixen-like befor you, despite the apparent discomfort of the hard tabletop. You knew that you should be tucked into bed, listening to the gentle lullaby of drizzling rain; and yet, the necessity to further consume knowledge was weighing your shoulders deeper down the pit. And it was rather out of character for him to react so sudden...

“I’m shielding you with my body,” he said, a nervous simper flitting across his features as he tapped the mahogany surface in a tenebrous tempo, the gauche position working in favour to portray his charming awkwardness.

“And why would you have to do that? I still have to finish the book, you know.”

“It’s not just that... I doubt you’d enjoy learning—and seeing—of contraceptive methods involving the testicles of a goat, luv.” He reached beneath him to snatch the book, nonchalantly throwing it into nirvana, nescient to your drained protests. “Besides, you’re positively knackered, my dear.”

“But—“

“No buts. I do not doubt your abilities, but you won’t become a doctor overnight. Especially if you work yourself close to your grave,” he interrupted you, intertwining your hands, “You already do enough... I rely on you more than you could ever begin to comprehend. So please allow me to relieve you of some troubles, at least.”

That was all it took for him to steal away your oxygen, sending your systems into panic, waking you up like you’ve never been awake, consequently forcing you into unsure stillness. You were overcome with such raw emotion, such pure love, that you just couldn’t reign your body’s response. Your breaths pinioned in an ethereal waltz of two souls, neither of you too concerned of the wood denting your arms, the sore sensation nothing compared to the sensual spark as you lightly tugged his hair.

His quiet moan against your bruised lips made you halt, choosing to rest your head on his chest.

“Are you alright?” you heard him ask, reaching out to trace the smooth curve of your jaw with an almost chimerical gentleness. He asked not because he wanted to push you to continue where you’ve left off, but due to the genuine concern gleaming within his ocean eyes. As much as he fought for the role of their resident Casanova, you knew he’d never do anything without your consent, and that he was a lot more timid than he’d like to admit. Indeed, he deserved the credit he would never even think to give himself.

“It’s nothing much. It’s just this.” You gestured. “Us... I feel so lucky to have you. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt so connected to someone.” And it was the truth. Arthur understood you more than anyone else ever had, making you happy like no one else ever had, and helping you in overcoming your fears like no one else ever had.

Your words seemed to linger tangibly, your lover’s face vulnerable to the blatant exposure of sentiment. He could only hold you closer, carrying you to your room. Humming a soft tune, he accompanied you not only to rest, but to a future brighter than the sun could ever hope to be.

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vinayrajoriaofficial · 3 years

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An Essay on the True Nature of Literature.

By Vinay Rajoria

Nobel Prize winning American writer, Ernest Hemingway,writing at his desk.

Looking at a koel bird singing in the hot summer loo or the sprightly squirrel hiding in the pink petals of bougainvillea, I have often wondered what makes me, a mere human, distinct from these other equally alive and walking-talking creatures? At once, a thousand bits and pieces of intriguing answers rush to my mind but when I behold them one by one, then one distinct fact shines more profoundly than others. The fact called culture! In other words, humans unlike other animals are cultured creatures.

Broadly speaking, a culture is defined as the way of life of a group of people. It has many more complex dimensions but for the sake of this discussion, this will suffice.

Culture includes two parts-material culture and non-material culture. Material culture refers to all the tools, objects, buildings, etc., or in other words every tangible aspect of human creation. But more important to not just the argument of this essay but to the essence of human beings, themselves is the non-material aspect of culture. An aspect that includes the most precious of human resources called ideas and beliefs. This facet of culture is the accumulated knowledge that is learned and passed on from one generation to another.

And it is here, we see the immense importance and almost sheer necessity of the sophisticated tool of communication that humans have developed and perfected over the years, for the efficient transfer of this non-material culture, called language.

Now language, while being a part of the culture, has played and continues to play a vital role in the transmission of ideas. It enables information to be passed from one individual to another, quickly and easily. Initially, this form of effective information transferring was naturally oral, that is information was passed on by the means of different sounds or human voice. This oral tradition to communicate one's thoughts and feelings still continues to exist in the spoken form, but unlike the earlier ages, humans over time developed a new and a much better means of communication which we now call written culture.

It fills me with sheer wonder when I realize how much writing has enhanced the power of sophisticated communication by making information permanently available to others. It has made a thought become almost immortal by making it free from the boundaries of both space and time. With it, anyone can communicate from the deepest of human emotions to the shallowest of political arguments to someone miles away from them, to someone born centuries and centuries after they have gone. In other words, the written word has made the entire corpus of human knowledge, amassed over the years, available to everyone and anyone, just as it was there at the moment of its inception in the mind of its creator.

Now building on this little background of human thought, one can see the question under consideration more effectively. So what is literature? This is a question that evades the exactness of a standard definition so much so that for once it might look like catching moving air with bare hands. But we must keep hope thinking like the German philosopher Nietzsche, who said "and if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you".

19th-century German philosopher and writer, Friedrich Nietzsche, who wrote the famous book-'Beyond Good &Evil'.

So when you look deep enough, you begin to notice that certain endemic characteristics inherent in all literary works shining out at you. Characteristics that make defining literature a bit easier and propelling us to understand its true nature which makes it distinct from just any written work.

Literature, as I wrote earlier, is about the act of writing itself. It's an integral and a more specialized dimension of the non-material culture. It takes birth from the human desire to express itself in words. And though, it definitely has more nuanced dimensions, but at its very core, it concerns itself primarily about the written existence of thoughts and ideas in the form of symbols called letters.

And it is this cultural influence of the written word which marks the distinction between the languages and dialects spoken around the world; that is languages have their roots and their history in their respective literature. They have the fertile soil of epics and poetry to draw and grow from. Be it then Sanskrit having the texts of Vedas and Upanishads, English having the old English poem Beowulf or Chaucer's Canterbury Tales or the Greeks having Homer's Odyssey and the Iliad, etc. One can even say that more often than not, languages have grown and matured from great works of literature rather than the other way around. As has been the case with Chaucer and the English language, where Chaucer's contribution to the language is so huge that it's rightly said that Chaucer found English as a dialect and left it as a language. Thus, we can say that one of the key characteristics of literature is to give a formal literal structure to the spoken as well written languages. It lends the art of communication a set of well-crafted parameters to look for syntax and aesthetics among other things.

This brings us to another very interesting point that sets literature apart from any written word and that is aesthetics. Literary works be they in any language or culture definitely possess a great amount of aesthetics in themselves. It is this aesthetic sense which the writer builds in his words that makes any normal-sounding conversation or a mundane anecdote of hopelessness spring to life. It makes the writer's personal experience into a social experience which the reader can relate to and imagine as if he or she is experiencing it on its own or in his or her own time. It is the aesthetics of Shakespeare's prose and poetry that make the dilemma of Hamlet or the sorrow of Caesar so impeccable in its appeal, making it count as one of the greatest kinds of literature of the world. One sees this aesthetic characteristic trait in almost every page of the great works of literature of the world, making it stand out as not a sheer amassment of jargon of words or a sentence salad uttered out in a stupor but as a true masterpiece of human genius. Literature hence becomes not just a mere written work but in all true sense a work of art.

Literature,thus,can also be defined as the definitive and controlled expression of human creativity in the form of letters and symbols. In this light, it's actually committing crime to say that any sort of written expression is literature because that means giving no credit whatsoever to the creative process and toil the writer puts in to make his personal raw emotions and ideas into an intelligible and aesthetic creation. A creation which then can be appreciated by the millions and connects us to the mind and the heart of the writer, making us all better human beings in the process because literature, especially great literature for that matter, makes us reflect on the human conscious and suffering which otherwise is so diverse and dynamic and perplexing to comprehend.

Literature, to conclude, then becomes an act of empathy, making us feel the inner and the outer world from someone else's perspective or the act of stepping into someone else's shoes. It makes us come closer to our own psyche and propels us to see the parts of ourselves which we often deliberately choose to ignore. As Emerson rightly said, "In the works of great writers we find our own neglected thoughts."

Image Credits:- Pinterest

References:-

The Glossary of Literary Terms by M.H. Abrams

The Concise History of English literature by William Henry Hudson

The Routledge history of English literature

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ponypumpkinpatch · 4 years

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MLP Lore/World-Building Headcanons!

So I’ve kind of wanted to expand on some lore headcanons, or at least how they apply to my next-gen verse. Some of these I’ve seen similar ideas from a lot of different mlp content creators and some are ones I’ve been working on. I like how everyone puts their own individual tweaks on similar headcanons so I’m excited to show my own!

I also follow the popular headcanon that all ponies have some level of magic. Earth ponies are adept at channeling magic through their hooves (I figure this is how they can hold things like books and cups, and play instruments etc. with no fingers). It’s a very tactile sort of magic so anything that involves a lot of direct contact is something they are more likely to excel in. Pegasus ponies channel magic mostly through their wings (they can do through their hooves as well but not usually as easily as earth ponies). Unicorns obviously channel magic through their horn (Very rarely can they channel through their hooves and when they can it’s typically difficult for them. Their hooves are typically split/cloven and are slightly more fragile). Alicorns can affectively channel magic through all three and even simultaneously. Technically any pony can “ascend” and become an alicorn, though it is almost impossibly hard for some and other are more likely (further explained ahead).

So basically this is going to relate to pony magic and it will be Aligned vs. Embodied vs. Tethered.

Aligned:

So this applies to every pony no matter their pony-type or amount of magic. Every pony (and probably creature but I havne’t gotten that far with headcanons yet) has their magic and talents aligned with one or more major world component. World components are typically broad and I think the major ones I’m thinking of are: sun, moon, stars, space, the sky, weather, earth, agriculture, hearth, water, fire, nature, seasons, music, combat, emotions, magic, chaos, and order. Some of these can be further broken down (water: ocean, lake, river etc.) or be a combination of a couple. Also two ponies with similar talents/magic can still have different alignments (for example two ponies with cutie marks in navigation but one aligned with stars and one aligned with order).

Not all ponies are strongly connected to their alignment and many don’t think on it at all.

Embodied:

This is much rarer and most ponies are not an embodiment. Our mane 6 and Cadence end up here (and in my next-gen verse Shining Armor too). Each world component can be embodied by a pony. This is a pony that is perfectly aligned with their component and as we see with our main characters, they are the physical representation of those elements. Embodied ponies are typically stronger and have a longer life span than non-embodied ponies. They are also significantly more likely to become an alicorn. This can happen spontaneously but typically it is rare without guidance from an existing alicorn or conscious effort on the embodied pony themselves. An embodied alicorn’s lifespan is extended even more and though not immortal, can live for centuries. Unlike regular alignment, there can only be one pony embodying a world component at a time. Cadence is the embodiment of love itself and while she is alive there will not be born another. Now there can still be plenty of ponies that have love magic and are love-aligned, but none that quite so effectively represent its very core.

Tethered:

Now we’re getting to the big magic! A tether is embodiment taken one step further. Any tangible part of the world can be tethered to a pony (or creature?) on it. This is where Luna and Celestia are. Luna and Celestia are the embodiment of the moon and sun, but more than that they are kind of the very souls of those things. A tethered pony is linked to their tether by their very life force. Their magic and personal conditions are tied to it. For example, Luna could be seen as the soul of the moon itself and what affects the moon would also affect her and her magic. Her magic and mood can be greatly affected by the phases of the moon for example. A tethered pony will live as long as their tether exists. They can technically be killed but it is difficult to do so as they are very powerful and resilient. If a tethered pony IS killed their tether will likely go haywire for a while. Eventually a new tether could be born, but it likely wouldn’t be right away. This has never happened in pony history that anyone has known of though so knowledge is a little shady. Like embodiment, only one tether can exist at a time.

Any pony can be born with a tether, and any pony that IS born with a tether will inevitably become an alicorn. There is too much magic tied to their soul and their body adapts to it in a way that helps them channel it most easily. It is ideal for the pony to be guided in this process and it is said that it is traumatizing for a pony to ascend without help and without warning (especially if they don’t know their tethered and destined to become an alicorn). Tethers are super rare and modern pony history only knows of two tethered ponies in history (Luna and Celestia) though there are creation myths surrounded tethered alicorns (which I will also eventually make a post on because that is my headcanon for the origins of the different pony races ^_^)

So there are the main differences between the major types of magical alignment! Embodiment and tethers are likely increased in odds if a pony is related to someone who has experienced one but isn’t necessary for it to happen.

Let me know if you have any questions or even just if you liked my ideas! Thanks for reading! :)

#pumpkin text post #mlp headcanons #mlp lore headcanons #mlp fim #mlp next gen #i’ve been excited by these concepts for awhile so i’m glad i’ve finally gotten them written down!#long post

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hihowareyawrites · 4 years

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Did You Know I’m Utterly Insane?

Cross Posted from AO3

No pairing; Solf J. Kimblee character study

Summary: Solf J. Kimblee was not a man who was uncertain of anything, generally. He felt completely aware of everything he said and did. His refusal to continue his father's business, his eagerness to leave home, and his fondness for destructive alchemy- yes, it was never anything he was unsure of. But now and again, he did question his well being.

Solf J. Kimblee was not a man who was uncertain of anything, generally. He felt completely aware of everything he said and did. His refusal to continue his father's business, his eagerness to leave home, and his fondness for destructive alchemy- yes, it was never anything he was unsure of. But now and again, he did question his well being.

If nothing else he was defined by his savior faire- his uncanny ability to enter a situation and claim it, appearing dominating and submissive all at once. He would not hold the conversation captive, but rather steer it with small comments and gestures. It was something that made those around him captivated by his presence, and also, wary of his aura.

But of course, he knew what he was doing.

He would observe others, their empathy and their compassion. The way they felt for others. He wondered what that must be like, to see the pain of another person and truly understand what it is they were feeling. It was something he found trying. He'd given the effort as much as he could, he must feel some care for his mother (or so he thought), since he did intend to give her some of his income provided by the state.

But was it compassion? Or was he just repaying a debt he felt he owed her, out of respect? Respect was an easy emotion for him. He could acknowledge another person's ability or conviction, and he could respect them. But that didn't necessarily mean he cared about what happened to them beyond that.

No, perhaps he cared more for vanity and social status than he'd thought. The delicate thought and meticulous eye he would give to his appearance was unlike the passing glance offered to those suffering around him. But he couldn't understand what he was supposed to feel, then.

He did feel however, anger. He had a reservoir of bitterness welled up in the black of his heart, something he felt could devour him from the inside. He had no desire to truly help people. Some might credit it to late teenage angst, or perhaps a typical anger issue distinctive of young men. But he didn't find either apropos.

The creation of his alchemic specialty was with that distinction; that he had no internal drive to aid the masses. It would get him nowhere, he felt. Of course he was capable of preforming standard alchemy, he could do it if he needed. If he wanted. But he didn't want to.

He channeled the frustration, the apathy, the anger, the distaste for things around him, for people, into his work. Maybe it was because his father pushed such a rigid lifestyle on him. Maybe it was because no matter how hard he saw his mother work, she could never get ahead. Maybe he was just born with a natural affliction. The reasons didn't matter, the results did.

When he'd first arrived in central for his exam, he found it was a much different place from his small hometown. It was large, it was loud, it was a city. It had the capacity to house so many, but were those on the streets then, the remainder? He'd passed a number of homeless people, starving and cold and sad- and he found he felt nothing. No concern to help them, no desire to do more. He only thought it was the way of nature, survival of the fittest, and moved on. He felt nothing.

It occurred to him that perhaps, his view was unnatural. Perhaps his lack of concern for others wasn't standard, and he felt for the first time ever, a sense of inferiority. What genetic trait was he denied that allowed others access to an emotion he couldn't attain? What sort of defective make up did he have that rendered him unable to feel and act as everyone else does? He'd never an issue with memorizing algorithms or music or languages, and yet the simplest task of all was something that would not come easy to him.

But he could pretend it did. He studied them, the people around him. The ones in the large central office, the ones he passed on the street, the ones who sat near him in wait. He studied them all, and carefully built a persona.

When it came time for his interview, he imagined what each of his emotional models would say- how they would react. His skills were enough to award him a rank of major, a coveted watch, and a unique title. But he applauded himself on his ability to fit in with the masses. He allowed himself a sliver of haughtiness, that they did not truly know the man they had employed. He considered they had seen through him and simply did not care, but his ego preferred the former.

He did however tell them of his indifference to committing murder on behalf of the state, how it was a duty he would gladly uphold for his military. They praised him for his candor, and his loyalty. This seeming confession of psychopathy was overlooked. This confession meant nothing.

He found these brief moments to be the most rewarding; the only time where he truly felt like he might be happy. Deceiving others, earning praise, things that others may find unbecoming traits.

In training, he found his objective difficult. Many of the tasks were laden with bouts of heroics. Saving this civilian, protecting this city, et cetera. He found it banal if nothing else, but moreso uninvigorating. Why should he care if one more person were to die? Or perhaps one hundred more? What could they possibly offer, if they hadn't the will power to keep themselves alive of their own accord anyway? He hadn't become a state alchemist to be a charity worker, he had become a state alchemist for... now what was the reason again? It didn't matter, he found comfort in being apart of something.

While reading one night, he came upon studies of sociopathy and psychosis. He tried to separate himself from them, but found it harder as he skimmed the psychology book further. Yes, perhaps he did relate to this- perhaps his feelings were symptomatic of personality disorders he'd only known in passing until now. But should that make him a bad person, if he was suffering from an illness of the mind? Some may applaud him for seeking a normal life anyway. He applauded himself. He was twenty three, and doing well enough.

Still, there was a dull ache in his chest, for something more.

Only a few years later, they were being sent to war. He found purpose in his orders. They were giving him a command, a standard to perfect. It didn't matter what the order was, he was determined to be the best at it, regardless.

His new favorite hobby was walking down the streets, post-destruction, and admiring his own work. There was the exhilaration of the act of course, but there was nothing quite like enjoying the afterglow of the efforts either. He'd liken the entire experience to sex, but without the obligation of human connection after. This experience was all he needed to feel alive. He wished the war would go on forever, that he could live this way for the rest of his life. Every day would be a new opportunity to best himself, and he would seek enlightenment with every attempt. Yes, that would be ideal.

He tried to make acquaintances, to associate with living people, but none could understand him. It wasn't that he wanted nor needed to be understood, but he desired some sense of comradery with anyone here. Even though the uniforms on their backs were the same, he felt as though he simply had many enemies he could not and should not target.

When he was handed the stone, a tangible shard of human souls, there was an immediate connection. This small crystallized object, formed from human suffering, had more in common with him than any of the people around him. It existed only to cause chaos. It too was burdened with a tempest of agony, and he used it to inflict the same on those around him. This stone was truly the only thing that he understood, that understood him. It too existed merely to cause suffering.

He'd not be separated from it. He took their lives solely to preserve his possession- it's possession of him. He held out his hands promptly, to be cuffed. At the movements of his arms those around him recoiled, knowing full well what his hands were capable of. Surrender however was not a known attribute. He stood on trial and accepted any guilt. He did not flaunt it, he simply agreed. His assigned lawyer threw down his papers in frustration; why must this man cooperate with the jury and not his own attorney? He admired his new home, a stuffy, dark and damp cell, and shrugged off the gnawing feeling of claustrophobia. Surely, this is where he would spend the last of his days. He would be handed the death sentence eventually, right? It was only a matter of time.

And then 6 years went by. And there was nothing. Truly, he would be left to rot here. He announced full guilt in the crimes he committed, and they allowed him to live. This confession, too, meant nothing.

There was an emptiness growing in the pit of his stomach, so deep he thought the stone would become lost in it. What is all of this for? What was any of this for? He couldn't remember now.

And soon he was released. With bravado and a false sense of self entitlement he announced his deserving of freedom; truly, if they would release him after all this time, he had earned it. But there was still a confusion, a lack of certainty. What his goals were, what his plans were. He followed orders diligently, set himself to one goal and chased that goal. Chased it until it impaled him through the side. Chased it until it dared make him feel humiliated in front of dozens. Chased it until he was told to give up, and focus on something else. Failure was a new feeling.

Or, it was until it started to occur again and again. And then he began to realize that he was never succeeding at anything. The praise and acclaim he had earned in Ishval meant nothing. Now, he was unable to accomplish any given task. He stood in apoplexy until the order was given to rescue Pride, and he decided he would not fail again.

And though hard he did try, he found himself truly recounting his life's purpose as he lay on the ground hemorrhaging. His life force escaping out his throat and onto his tailored suit. In this moment, he confessed his crimes and his failures, to himself. He recounted them and, for the true first time in his life, felt regret. Regret he had not accomplished more. He realized then, while he had confessed his crimes to others, he never truly had to himself. And upon doing so found he was remorseless. And found that aside from orders given from others, his actions were without goal or purpose. He realized, only now in death, that he had never truly had free will. His conviction was a ruse, he acted only on the conviction of others.

"There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing. "

Solf J. Kimblee was not a man who was uncertain of anything, generally. Except for his own identity and reason for living, he questioned only when it was too late.

#solf j. kimblee #Solf J Kimblee #kimblee #fma fanfic #fma #Fullmetal Alchemist

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yadaily · 4 years

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The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves #1) by Roshani Chokshi

Review by: Paige

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

No one believes in them. But soon no one will forget them. It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance. To hunt down the ancient artifact the Order seeks, Séverin calls upon a band of unlikely experts: An engineer with a debt to pay. A historian banished from his home. A dancer with a sinister past. And a brother in arms if not blood. Together, they will join Séverin as he explores the dark, glittering heart of Paris. What they find might change the course of history--but only if they can stay alive.

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I had been meaning to get around to this book for so long, so when I saw that The Gilded Wolves Readathon was happening, I knew I was in. And boy, I’m so glad I read this. I’ve strayed from YA Fantasy in recent years, but Chokshi made null and void all of my typical hesitations and concerns with how deftly and intricately she plotted and wrote this story. I had seen a lot of people compare this book to Six of Crows, and while I haven’t read Six of Crows yet, I understand the knee-jerk comparisons. However, this book was doing something really, really special with its mythology and characters that I don’t think I’ve seen replicated in many, if any, other works.

While I got lost a bit in the mythology in the beginning of this book, as I felt a bit info-dumped on and like I was struggling to understand each key point’s interaction with another, I still very thoroughly enjoyed its place and its individual aspects. I loved that Chokshi weaved religion into the mythology here, that those two things and/or their respective cultures existed not in opposition with each other but as vital, integral parts to each’s existence. She didn’t shy away from confronting colonialism in this book, it was this book. From the subtle to the outright, opposition towards colonialism and colonialist exhibitionism are at the heart of this story and its characters’ lives. A lot of other works are afraid to do what this has done.

The characters, too, were incredible. I loved them all. I was invested in each and every single relationship. I loved that Séverin and Laila had this undercurrent of pre-established tension and romance that infused their every moment with each other. I loved Enrique and Zofia and Tristan, and I loved the burgeoning love triangle between Enrique/Zofia/Hypnos. First time I’ve been genuinely interested in and possibly torn between a love triangle in…years. Years. The whole found family trope was just on perfect display here.

However, while I loved Laila so much and she undoubtedly played an integral role in this story in every way she could (and I think she’s going to play an even more prominent and important one in the sequel), I felt she often became this kind of caretaker. Sure, she loved assisting others, but I felt uncomfortable in moments where everyone was working hard and “tangibly” towards an acquistion’s planning and she was just…making everyone food. I hope that such a vibrant, bright, interesting and well-developed character as Laila will continue to break out of that mold.

The climax of this book was…oof. I could not put it down. I loved every minute of it, even its most heartbreaking but realistic, and this book is now so perfectly positioned for its sequel, it’s unreal. I am so, so looking forward to seeing the characters and their relationships grow, and this story just get even more convoluted.

#the gilded wolves #roshani chokshi #booklr #bookish #book review #paigesreviews

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lavila27 · 4 years

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What I Love About Marriage Story- by Lauren Avila

It’s simple. The story is straightforward and yet deeply complex in it’s high and lows. It’s not hiding behind special effects, elaborate costumes or outlandish sets. It boils down to character, emotion, character, emotion, emotion, emotion and no one would ask for more beyond that.

In a world of superhero franchises, book adaptations and remakes, it’s strikingly unique. I honestly can’t think of any other film quite like it. Certainly not one that makes a single divorce the main character and central plotline. Can you?

It tells one story yet explores the stories of any divorce you’ve probably heard about.

It doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is. We have been conditioned to think that there’s going to be a twist or cliffhanger or open end or perhaps maybe even a surprise happy ending. Despite the fact that none of these happen, you find yourself satisfied and accepting of the end. Except of course that you don’t want it to end because it’s just so good.

It is unapologetically truthful. When you think that a sensitive subject at its most vulnerable state must be handled with gentle hands, Marriage Story dives deeper into raw emotion and natural degression of a person in the meatgrinder of a marital split.

It stars Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in one of, if not the best performances of their careers. Both actors have specific tendencies in their respective repertoires yet I didn’t see either one of them in this film. Rather I saw Charlie and Nicole. That is all.

It is written and directed by Noah Baumbach who I now dream of collaborating with. Upon seeing this movie three times* in 72 hours, I still find myself thinking about it all day and wanting to see it again. I pick up new things each time but also still appreciate the brilliance I saw the first time. Only a film genius can create this in a script.

It has a heartbreaking score by Randy Newman. Yes, the same Randy Newman who has been breaking my heart since Toy Story, 20+ years ago.

It features an amazing child actor named Azhy Robertson.

Even the scenes and scenarios you’re supposed to hate like the lawyers, the fighting, the awkward evaluator… all fascinating. Laura Dern, Alan Alda, Ray Liotta anyone?!

It is theatrical in film form. The very basis of jostling between New York and Los Angeles was like a metaphor of Broadway and Hollywood fusing together.

It features songs from Company including one of my favorite show tunes of all time: Being Alive. Adam Driver sings a confident but poignant rendition. This movie uses the song perfectly by using it backwards. Bobby realizes what he wants in Company. Charlie realizes what he lost in Marriage Story. Heartbreaking.

It escalates but the pacing never changes. Unlike movies where it only gets good at the end or it falls short as it moves on, Marriage Story is engaging in every scene and you even find yourself holding your breath as Charlie and Nicole’s divorce turns from casual to tense.

The Easter egg: banner advertisements in LA for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical “Love Never Dies.” Kismet.

The Star Wars reference.

It has a similar feel to La, La Land (another incredible film) but it’s completely opposite. Instead of watching the couple fall in love, you watch them fall out. The music also helps tell the story in both movies.

I could feel everything. It was so realistic I couldn’t breathe sometimes. I found myself understanding the characters so viscerally. The frustration, anger, sadness, betrayal, confusion, love and lives of these people.

The long scenes.

The details.

The intimacy of the story.

They say everything you’re not supposed to and you’re still rooting for them. They’re not bad people. An exploration into one of the worst times in someone’s life and you’re bound to see a person to crack.

The love that reverberates. It dust the scenes like a tangible reminder that these two were once each other’s whole worlds. I’m obsessed with the beginning and end.

The lists. The constant themes that you notice because its been pointed out to you. You feel like you know this couple. You know Charlie. You know Nicole. And you know them through each other’s eyes.

The hate that spills out like an over-packed suitcase of resentment.

It’s imperfect. The little mistakes and minor oversights only make me love it more because it makes it more real.

It has a thread of comedy. The relationship that Charlie has with Nicole’s family brings a bit of levity without being annoying or unnecessary.

Regardless of what type of genre, I love when a movie has a complete circle. Henry is their middle ground. They find balance and their love for him brings about that full circle. By the end, Charlie takes a residency at UCLA so he could be in LA. He never made the move for Nicole during their marriage but did it for Henry. They spent Halloween together and even shared “Nicole’s” night which is the opposite of where they once were.

The foreshadowing. Nicole confided in Nora that she felt that she wasn’t alive but only contributed to Charlie’s aliveness. An aliveness he feels he lost at the end of their marriage as he laments in Being Alive.

I LOVE that Henry reads Nicole’s list of what she loves about Charlie. He struggled with reading throughout the whole movie. It took T-ime but he got it and they read it together. Charlie and Henry reading that list is probably my favorite part of the movie. I cry each time.

Everything.

*At time of publishing, I have now seen Marriage Story four times and have found that I’m memorizing it like a soundtrack. If you haven’t seen it yet, drop everything and go watch it. It’s worth subscribing to Netflix just for this movie.

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#marriage story #adam driver #scarlett johansson #noah baumbach #netflix #laura dern #alan alda #ray liotta #los angeles #new york #company #being alive

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b-skarsgard · 5 years

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Bill Skarsgård is on his feet, furiously pumping his arms back and forth. Standing 6-foot-4, he could cover a lot of ground if he wanted to, but he’s channeling a specific 5-year-old at play here.

We are talking about picking up other people’s physicalities and incorporating bits and pieces of them into his characters when he shoots up to demonstrate his bag of tricks. Standing in the open space of an Upper West Side home’s library, he brings his shoulders up to his ears, keeping the energy in his top half akin to a runner sprinting to his finish line, while from the waist down he appears more as a slow loris than Sonic the Hedgehog.

“That’s my little brother [Ossian],” Skarsgård says with a laugh, explaining the movement’s inspiration. “He’s 10 now, but when he was 4 or 5, he had a really funny way of running. You ever see kids do this? It’s the funniest thing ever.” Funny, sure, but when done by someone of the actor’s stature, slightly bewildering and creepy. “If you look at Pennywise,” he says, “Pennywise does this.”

Skarsgård is, of course, referring to his biggest role to date: Stephen King’s clown creation at the center of the “It” film franchise. As the evil entity known for eating children alive, Skarsgård has taken Pennywise the Dancing Clown—first imagined in King’s 1986 behemoth novel before being brought to the screen by Tim Curry in a campy 1990 miniseries—and morphed him into a truly terrifying being who brings into vivid clarity just how scary circus attire can be.

In case you somehow missed it, “It” premiered in 2017 and quickly became a pop culture phenomenon, grossing $700 million worldwide and breaking the record for the highest-grossing horror film of all time. It inspired Halloween costumes, “Saturday Night Live” spoofs, and a whole new generation of genre fans who will never look at red balloons the same way again.

Skarsgård and his cast—which includes kid co-stars Finn Wolfhard (“Stranger Things”), Jaeden Martell (“Masters of Sex”), Sophia Lillis (“Sharp Objects”), and a standout Jack Dylan Grazer (“Shazam!”), plus their adult counterparts Bill Hader, James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, and James Ransone, respectively—are hoping to catch lightning in a bottle once more this September with “It Chapter Two.” Picking up 27 years after the first film and Pennywise’s apparent—but temporary—defeat at the hands of the Losers Club, the film is another chance for Skarsgård to showcase the impressive physicality and personality he brought to Round 1.

Just minutes into a conversation with the actor—and after that performance of a 5-year-old running—it’s clear his calculated character work is thanks to a keen sense of observation. Take the Swede’s analysis of Scandinavian cities, for instance: His hometown of Stockholm is not as laid-back as Copenhagen, which by comparison feels more European. Having been raised in Sweden to a family of acting royalty—Stellan Skarsgård (an Emmy nominee this year for “Chernobyl”) is his father and Alexander Skarsgård (Emmy winner for “Big Little Lies”) is his brother—he recalls his people as more serious, the type to follow rules and structure.

His observations let him steal tangible details and tics from strangers, friends, family, and cultures, pulling them into the people (and, in the case of “It,” evil entities) he plays.

“Sometimes I even do it subconsciously, where I do something in a scene and I’m like, Wait a minute, that’s the guy from the subway. I saw this guy and I thought he was weird. Now I just did it in a scene,” he says, getting excited. “I fucking love when it happens so much because it’s literally happening in the moment.”

He’s not Method in his acting, but Skarsgård’s approach certainly feels all-encompassing. He has the capacity to go so deep that he makes it a point to draw clear boundaries for himself; during the audition process, he consciously avoids getting too attached to the role, limiting his prep work to memorizing the sides and making a strong, well-thought-out choice about the character he’s playing.

“You can prepare as much as you want—prepare in terms of the scene or think about the character, but the research I put into a role is emotional, especially if I have a book to read about it,” he says. “The ‘It’ book is a really particular one, but usually, [if] you read about the character, delving much deeper into who [they are], you start getting emotionally attached. You can get emotionally attached to a character without doing much research at all. It’s just shitty when you don’t book it... For me, when I book it is when I let myself go [and] really feel safe to emotionally give so much of myself to it.”

His wariness is understandable when you look at his résumé. Life for any actor naturally ebbs and flows between bookings and rejections, but that’s amplified for an actor like Skarsgård, who has built a career on playing brooding types often living in dire circumstances. His breakout role stateside was as vampire Roman Godfrey on Netflix’s “Hemlock Grove” before going on to play a character in the third installment of the post-apocalyptic “Divergent” series and then a mysterious inmate who’s been theorized to be the actual devil in another Stephen King-inspired screen project, “Castle Rock.” It’s not exactly light fare, and diving into those psyches unnecessarily could become detrimental.

“I like living by [the motto] ‘It is what it is’; you adapt and you’re spontaneous and you change things,” Skarsgård says when asked if he adheres to any specific technique to capture the characters he plays. “My life is not very structured or organized to begin with, and that obviously bleeds into the work that I do.”

It’s the spontaneity of his choices onscreen, too, that makes the 29-year-old so fun to watch, particularly as Pennywise. Two of his contributions to the final incarnation of Pennywise’s appearance include the cartoonishly pointed bottom lip—a thing Skarsgård can really do with his mouth, something he says he’s never seen anyone other than his family members do—and Pennywise’s walleyed stare, in which one of his pupils wanders off to the side while the other stays firmly focused on you.

Physically, the role is demanding, requiring him to yell, shake, and contort his face in ways that leave him exhausted; that’s not to mention the hours spent sitting in hair and makeup. “You have glue all over your face; there’s paint. Your hair is up in [a skullcap]—it’s itching. There’s, like, a foam head on top of it.” To put it mildly, “It” and its sequel are unlike any of Skarsgård’s other acting experiences. For myriad reasons, it lacked the give and take of more traditional projects. He had to be at “150 percent intensity” whenever the camera was on him. “A lot of the stuff I do sometimes is literally like”—he makes a gurgling sound like a chainsaw underwater. “It’s like one big jump scare, charging the camera screaming and shaking my head violently. There’s never a scene where you’re just chilling.”

The final product is an amalgamation of script work, Skarsgård’s own imagination, and King’s classic novel, which he leaned on more than usual since the script, told from the perspective of the film’s child leads, necessarily left out Pennywise’s perspective. He also used YouTube to watch videos of mimes, hyenas, baboons, and monkeys, using elements from each to piece together the way Pennywise moves through space.

With all the information he’s gathered from his prep process at his fingertips, the on-set experience becomes about playing to the truth of the scene and the “essence of what the character is at that point.”

“You completely intellectualize the character,” he explains about the early stages of figuring out the person he’s playing. “Who is this guy psychologically? Why is he acting this way? What is his relationship with the world and the people closest to him? The way I do it is objectively going out and studying him separately from me. Observing him, judging him, understanding him, and sympathizing with him.”

He admits to developing a fondness for Pennywise, who refused to vacate his mental premises even after the film wrapped. “You go with a character and you think about that character obsessively for a very long time, and then overnight there’s nothing left to think about,” he says. The uncoupling manifested itself in his dreams, where he sometimes was Pennywise and sometimes was talking to Pennywise, upset that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. “And then I wake up and I’m like, that was kind of sweet.” It’s the kind of affection only an actor who has lovingly pieced together a character over four years can have for something so objectively sinister.

But no matter the role—or its wickedness—we relish the moment Skarsgård stands up to show us what he’s found today.

#link #magazine #backstage magazine #interview #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård

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omatics · 5 years

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GRACE AND HUMANITY : an extremely long headcanon , i am so sorry !!

preface (aka, why this matters): essentially i’m trying my best to understand the truth about grace and separate it from the lie that grace herself propagated and believed in for many years. it’s a lie i think reginald started, honestly.

he thought it was in his best interest to assert that no part of grace hargreeves was alive or sentient at any point. she was wholly based on a code that he had written and incapable of growth or change.

so what i’m trying to answer is a pretty pivotal question to her character. was any part of grace, the one who loved and cared for children who would never have experienced that kind of kindness without her, ever truly human?

short answer, yes. long answer??? well ............

the early days (1993-1995): grace was not born but built and she was not initially built exceptionally well. she was cold in weird places (literally) and uncanny as hell. she couldn’t feel pain and therefore could not react to things properly in a way that would identify her as anything other than a robot.

she would get back up when vanya tossed her, turn her head a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees and be all beaming smiles. this is weird. it’s also the period in which she is the least physically human, and her physicality is tied very closely to her sense of self.

when the seam lines and edges get smoothed out in 1995 and she’s fitted with both nerve endings and the ability to be a human temperature all over her body, her relationship with the world around her begins. she can feel things, all kinds of things and not just pain. she has a preference for certain textures, she likes running warm water over her hands.

little things that were once so pointless and phantasmagoric become real and important. she begins to develop likes and dislikes because she can feel them.

she is not, however, fitted with any kind of programming that would induce genuine emotion in her. grace had to come up with that shit on her own.

the mid-days (1996-2006): this is really the period in which grace comes in to her own and can be completely herself. her preferences begin to solidify as concrete likes and dislikes. she begins to separate things she enjoys from things she does not.

programming her to protect her children is really the crux of how all other emotions develop for grace. her code insists that her kids matter, she believes that so deeply and as she watches their personalities grow she realizes why. luther is strong and brave. diego is tough with a real sweetness. allison is confident and intelligent. klaus is carefree and dynamic. five is competitive and curious. ben is good-hearted and funny. vanya is talented and reserved.

all these things, these real and tangible differences between her children leads grace to want to learn how to love them best. it requires understanding, strategy, trial and error. and while she might have been initially only programmed to protect, her desire to understand why leads her to truly care for them.

the first emotions grace understands are love, pride, joy. she realizes she enjoys watching her children be happy and succeed. she goes out of her way to make sure they feel special and important, because they deserve that.

this initial love is also how she comes to feel negative emotions as well. grief, anger and loneliness are all learned in response to what happens to her children. losing five makes her cry for the first time, and ben shortly after is her first brush with permanent death. her understanding of anger comes as a response to reginald abusing klaus and vanya, and then taking away her ability to fight for them.

and when her kids leave her, grace realizes just how difficult it is to be alone. she never thought for a second that it would matter, she isn’t real and shouldn’t expect people who are to care for her in return. but it still hurt that no matter how much she felt, no matter how careless she was about hiding it, it wasn’t enough to make her children write or visit.

grace could understand why. reginald has a habit of being the centre of attention even when he wasn’t in the room. her love would always be limitless, they never need to worry about whether she’s proud of them. but they did with reginald, and staying away is the only way for them to heal from that.

the later days (2007-2013): it’s hard to tell exactly when all grace’s children were gone, but the vast majority had likely left as early as the mid-2000s. by this point, her duties as mother have mostly come to a close, leaving her somewhat adrift but also able to explore herself more freely.

reginald by this time had also stopped regularly maintaining grace’s code. she is no longer really needed, her kids are now young adults and capable of taking care of themselves. she doesn’t have to work as hard to preserve through careful, secret back-ups the sense of self that she had been building for a decade or more, but she still does.

she starts watching more movies, developing a taste for genre and learning to let herself feel whatever the director is trying to communicate. she reads all the books in the library and lets herself be moved by the stories therein. grace discovers she liked stories of adventure and developed a wanderlust that will follow her for the rest of her life.

music also becomes a way for her to feel things deeply irrespective of an attachment to her kids. heavy metal makes her feel valid in her anger, love songs help heal her loneliness and eighties music helps her understand that what she’s experiencing is sentiment. she can miss the good old days while also acknowledging that those days were not very good at all.

complexity begins to creep in the more she experiments with, but grace is adamant about keeping it hidden. because regardless of what she is actually going through, she is almost certain that it isn’t real emotion. because if it is, if she’s even a little bit human?? then the way reginald treats her is utterly unacceptable.

she becomes very angry with him, for pushing her identity down and implying that she is only an extension of his brilliance. she tries hard to purge the code that forces her to hold him in high esteem. she’s unsuccessful but nevertheless able to understand internally that his greatness is a lie. and if he can lie about that, maybe he can lie about her being just a robot.

the last days (2014-2018): this is where things start to go downhill. grace’s secret experimentation with her own humanity, even if it’s at an arm’s length is difficult for her to process. while it doesn’t fully degrade her hardware, it’s hard for her to keep up.

she knew fear before that, she fears reginald very much but when she’s so close to defining herself as someone separate from him??? there;s a lot to be lost. she creates extensive backlogs of her consciousness, trying desperately to preserve herself should she finally be discovered. it slows her down considerably and she struggles with tasks she once found simple.

in the end, she has every right to be afraid. reginald would go on to deactivate her first-aid response and protective programming, essentially gutting her of her personality. the protective code is the baseline for the rest of her personality, without it she’s forgetful and distant, cold all the time and unable to feel even partially the way she once had.

she can’t feel enough to know that she misses how things were when she had a sense of self, but she definitely does.

following her son’s decision to deactivate her, however, pogo restores grace not to her original settings but to her most recent back-up, the one right before her baseline programming had been disabled. this act of kindness allows grace to wake up both in the literal and figurative sense. she’s alive again, truly alive and able to return to her self discovery without the fear of being caught.

the now (au, 2018-present): this is really only applicable to verses in which the apocalypse doesn’t happen and the time jumps don’t start. but grace is happier than ever exploring the outside world for a time and eagerly setting herself on the path to know more.

she’s still unlikely to admit that this is very human of her. to reach beyond the confines of her programming and learn more about herself is something she’ll deny the importance of. to her, it’s just a way to spend some time now that she doesn’t have to be cooped up in the house.

really, though, her capacity to feel grows and changes every day. she understands complex emotions and situations much better now and actively seeks out new experiences. life isn’t just for human beings, she attests, although at this point she’s pretty close.

#* ♥ ⎛ 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 ? ⎠ ── hc .#long post //#this is so fucking long god help me but it's important #because the answer is YES!!!!!!!!!!!#bc what defines human is very??? loose lbr here #so her existence fitting in to what makes someone human is ultimately subjective #but i think her desire to improve and learn and feel and love is very deeply human of her

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buniyaad · 6 years

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KO-D Blues: The Current DDT Main Event Scene

Anyone who first heard about Cyberagent acquiring DDT back in fall of 2017 knew that change was coming. It often does with acquisitions. Sure, the general understanding was that there would be more capital to float ideas and new projects, bigger paychecks for the personnel, but with great power comes great responsibility- more capital inevitably comes with more stakeholders.

Customers, as in the DDT audience, has been the longest and most consistent stakeholder at DDT pre-aquisition, simply because of the fact that up until fall 2017, DDT was a technically an independent whose business strategy tapped into the niche puroresu market that craved the absurdist, outlandish, and overall nontraditional approach at professional wrestling in a market that was flooded with similar content (don't @ me, but every Ace is the same kinda Ace across the big Five promotions, with a lil tailoring here and there). They have several sister promotions each doing their own thing, all part of the DDT umbrella, but running their own hijinks for their small, but loyal fanbases that buy the tickets and merch as loyally as any person consuming the mainstream content.

But after fall of 2017, they were no longer a successful indy, but now a cog in a larger machine aiming to make money. They were acquired, there's technically a new boss in the story, and even though at first it didn't seem like much would change, something has.

When Shuji Ishikawa won the D-King Grand Prix, I was livid for multiple reasons. I knew there was no way in hell he was gonna win the belt off Takeshita because by that point, it was common knowledge that Shuji would be over in AJPW the entirety of April for Champion Carnival. There was no way in hell a DDT could put their top belt on a man who had to disappear for a whole month, no matter how loyal he was to his mother promotion, bc that would have inevitably started a war between President Takagi and Uncle Jun. My pick was always Daisuke Sasaki, but some wanted Akito, some Yukio, the possibilities were endless because they're full-timers, and all of them amazing wrestlers, and we already knew Harashima was well on his way to lighter feuds and semi-main event status because his Ace days are coming to an end. We knew, but we didn't fret because other people were just are ready for an amazing push, but the victory went to the man who was already known to be a special attraction at Sumo Hall. There was a reason why HaraMarufuji had to drop those belts at Sumo Hall, and only half of it was to push Higuchi, because the other half had to salvage whatever dignity the men had left bc NOAH didn't book HaraMarufuji for shit and DDT could barely make do with Marufuji's sporadic appearances. Sometimes, it works out (like with Yuko), but a lot of times it just doesn't. So Shuji wasn't gonna win, we knew, but DDT management still played the game of thrones, and that led to the upset at Judgement 2k18.

The polls wanted Shuji. The fans wanted Shuji. Deep down, I feel like god wanted Shuji too, but no one can stop Management when it's high on one person regardless of how much the fans, the culture, the whole damn industry wants otherwise. Everyone else becomes an afterthought. People who have worked hard to keep the company alive are no longer in line to get a nice push. Suddenly, everyone becomes food for the top guy, no matter how good the build-up was for the other players, no matter how hot the crowd was for the opponent, no matter how willing the crowd was to forget that Shuji had AJPW dates to fulfill in two weeks, just because they loved the build-up to the Sumo Hall show and wanted Goliath of DAMNATION to come out as champion and give Ryogoku a concert to remember. But reality won in the end, and Shuji got pinned, and there went January through March, straight to the garbage because they fed Shuji Ishi-fucking-kawa to a 22 year old boy who can barely cut a promo and keep a crowd hot after winning a main event.

It's a tragedy from three ends because 1) Takeshita's literally a fucking novice who's only been wrestling for five or so years and is literally in the age group of the current trainees of the damn promotion, 2) he has no character or personality to speak of that people can get high on except the select few that enjoy his 'notice me Endo-san' yandere tirades, and 3) ... he lacks the spirit of DDT.

If DDT was all wrestling, everyday, I'd be watching NOAH's shitty booking and eating ice cream while trying not to let my soul slip outta my mortal coil, but that's not what DDT is. DDT is fully fleshed out characters and over-the-top storylines, DDT is gay-friendly and intergender-wrestling friendly, it's gimmick fuckery for everyone in the promotion, everyone gets to have more than one character, BOYZ shows run social critiques on heterolinis, YAROZ act out the hypermasculine thotheads, Ganbare lets Imanari have emotional meltdowns during ring takedown, TJP has zombies, BASARA has a deathmatch samurai for an Ace, and a wig is the crown for anyone who wants to be general manager of the promotion. It's content fuckery at its best, and it's fun. Takeshita Konosuke? He's not fun.

I'm not gonna try and dissect why he's not getting over, but the fact of the matter is- he's not getting over. And yet- and yet he's still being pushed like he's king of the world. Suddenly we're back in Sumo Hall, and the crowd's dead for Konosuke. A couple of weeks back, when Takeshita lost, he flipped. There was something there, a spark that came and went regularly since Takeshita and Endo began feuding, a rage that bubbled to the surface whenever Takeshita couldn't get his way. There was a character- a semblance of a character worth looking forward to because there was an unparalleled emotion there that was almost tangible.

But like a dying flame, the spark fizzled out, and we were left with an inconsistent character. Like is you mad? Is you happy? You never fuckin know with Take, man. The only consistent thing about him is his undying love/hate for Endo-san.

So Takeshita won, Shuji bowed out, and then Shigehiro Irie rolled up. Suddenly, there was some hope again, because Shige had his own storyline that made sense in the grander scheme of things. With Management so gung ho behind Takeshita, it was excellent storytelling to bring in the guy who has WORDS for the promotion who conned him out of a D-King Grand Prix spot, and had him consider quitting. But Shigs had his own story, his own reason for being, a freelancer like Shuji in his own right, but still tied to the Motherland, to DDT, at the end of the day. Still a heel, but a heel of the people- and if he wins at Max Bump 2018, a champion of the people.

Akito, on the other hand, is gonna be ten years in DDT next year, and he's one of the best wrestlers on the roster, but is still one of the most underpushed (understandable as his character is rather bland even if his skills are exceptional). Coming out with a bad Prix record, he then went on to question Shige's right to challenge. Like an older brother protecting the golden baby of the family, Akito stood up against a literal beast. And he lost. More than that, he was shamed. What's a person to do?

So what changed? Over the years, a number of champions have held the coveted KO-D. OK, maybe 'coveted' is pushing it. It's a hot title, aight? It's the top guy's title, whether that top guy for the moment is Harashima, Kudo, Ibushi, Ishikawa, Sakaguchi, Togo, Poison Sawada Julie, Dino or Mikami. But that didn't mean the title didn't change hands. For its eighteen year existence, its changed enough times for a title spanning forty years, but DDT went from zero to hero. Suddenly the belts weren't all jokes, the talent wasn't just here for the shenanigans, but for an actual chance to be the rightful King of DDT. So what changed?

Across Harashima's nine reigns over eleven years, he clocked in well over a thousand days. Takeshita is on his second reign, at 22, and clocked in almost five hundred days over eleven different defenses. The push is real, but the push isn't getting over. So I wonder again- what changed?

Everyone knows the worst civil war a promotion can get into is the war with its own customer base. The crowd died at Sumo Hall after Takeshita retained, and they were barely waking up again when Irie popped up. The story's there- the Old Guard of DDT having to deal with the new Management that came with the acquisition, Irie's need to show Takeshita that DDT is still what it used to be, even if Shigs is bitter and jaded that things have changed so quickly, the constant, nagging feeling in the back of every DDT fan's mind that 'jfc, we gotta deal with Takeshita again?” There's only so much a promotion can do until the push fails. We still have to fill up seats for Peter Pan. The hottest stable on the indies for the last two years was DAMNATION, but now that their push and hype was used on Shuji and Goliath's been slayed, what's next for them? Shige is almost certain to lost at Max Bump because anyone who slays Takeshita, will be slaying the Future and taking back DDT for whatever reason. That's not happening at Korakuen with a guy who's been MIA since December. Harashima's time is over. The generation of DDT wrestlers that came after 2005 are still lagging in the midcard, and times are... intense. We have a Sumo Hall double show coming up in 2019, and it looks like we really will be hosting Tokyo Dome if 2020 if we continue at this pace.

So what changed?

I don't want to give up hope yet because I trust that crowd sentiment matters to DDT, but with Takeshita's victory at Judgment, his lukewarm hype, and now the setup to feed heel!Shige to Takeshita in order to fluff him up as a face... it's not looking too great. Shige losing now means the Old Guard loses a warhound. One of the few things that can salvage his loss is Akito having a heel turn, but the turn hasn't been triggered in years, and seems unlikely even now when the moment is most opportune. There are... no challengers left for Takeshita with a proper build. The one man who was capable of running with his push had to lose to Mike Bailey. We're at a standstill right now- halfway to the dawn of a new era, but moments away from severe backlash because of the near omnipotent reign of a boy king who can barely keep his emotions in check around his ex-bff/love of his unfortunate life. Given, DDT didn't die even when Ibushi quit, so I doubt Takeshita's lackluster reign is gonna kill the promotion dead... but it doesn’t spell out a good future if there's meant to be a cycle of this lackluster character work.

Especially if they intend for him to be the Ace for good.

Alas, the main event scene at DDT right now is rife with mixed feelings while we prepare to work the five hundred other side-projects DDT has going, while preparing for a fall Peter Pan, with no clear picture of who will be the two men standing face-to-face at the last marquee event of the year. We'll see at Max Bump if Shige can win one for the Old Guard and take the belt off Takeshita long enough to build up other characters that can have formidable reigns, but until then, it's a rocky road. At least Smile Squash held it down for the crowd :/

#ddtpro #konosuke takeshita #shigehiro irie #akito #sanshiro takagi #real talk #Wrestling #real sad hours over at ddtpro tonight lads

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logh-icebergs · 6 years

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Episode 30: Lost Things

March 18, 798/489. In the Empire, Reinhard’s fleet prepares to warp Geiersburg Fortress into the Iserlohn Corridor. On Iserlohn, Yang prepares to submit to a dubiously lawful inquiry by the hostile—but democratically elected!—Alliance government. Hilda convinces Mecklinger to pay a visit to her sick cousin, who teaches us all about the importance of having hobbies. And Geiersburg’s test warp, thanks to Kempf and Mueller’s adept leadership, goes off without a hitch. Meanwhile, Reinhard sinks deeper into depression, Julian blows off steam at the shooting range, and Reuental and Mittermeyer (you guessed it!) go on a date.

Reinhard Alone

Reinhard may be dead inside, but he still looks amazing. Episode 30, in particular, has some of my favorite animation in the series, so please enjoy all the ridiculously beautiful heartbreak as much as you possibly can through your tears.

We haven’t spent much time with Reinhard since the traumatic season 1 finale, so we’re long overdue for a check in with our fast-rising Empire-side hero. How’s he been doing?

Not great! (From episode 28.)

Once you're immersed in how LoGH tells stories, it’s tempting to say that Reinhard’s newly sour affect “should come as no surprise,” given what he’s been through. And though that is true on an in-universe level—nobody who suffered the tragic loss of a long-time romantic partner only months ago should be expected to have recovered already—it would be disingenuous of me to suggest that surprise at the way LoGH treats Reinhard’s grief is unwarranted.

In my episode 26 post, I talked about how my past experiences as a queer consumer of media had primed me for LoGH to handle Kircheis’s death poorly, and what a surprise it was when my expectations were subverted. In that light, Reinhard’s grief—the way it changes him, the way it has a tangible presence, the way other characters tiptoe around and discuss it—is a surprise. It’s a constant reminder not just of how important Kircheis was (and still is) to Reinhard, but also of how committed LoGH is to treating its queer characters and their relationships with respect.

LoGH can be a difficult show to watch. Not only does it have over a hundred incredibly dense episodes to get through—some of which are basically impossible to parse unless you watch them more than once—but it’s also deeply, sometimes overwhelmingly sad. Depending on the context, though, that can be good, or at least validating. And Reinhard’s grief, upsetting though it may be, is fundamentally important to a queer reading of LoGH.

Like I said during episode 26, Kircheis’s death is a turning point for the slow dissolution of LoGH’s heteronormative surface reading. And the unflinching portrayal of Reinhard’s grief from here on out is evidence of an ongoing decision on the part of LoGH’s creative team to allow what was formerly confined to subtext to remain above the surface.

The Locket

The way Reinhard’s voice softens when he talks to “Kircheis” via his locket is dramatic and says a lot more on its own than is possible to express in a mere text caption. If you missed it the first time, definitely go rewatch this scene in episode 28 (the timestamp is 3:45) to get the full effect.

The most obvious manifestation of Reinhard’s grief is, of course, his locket, in which he keeps a family photo and a lock of Kircheis’s hair. Some of Reinhard’s colleagues, as I’ll get to in a minute, worry about him because of how much he’s changed since Kircheis’s death. But I would argue that a lot of what’s so disturbing about Reinhard’s transition into Life Without Kircheis is the lack of change, at least in one respect: He still relies on Kircheis for emotional support, as is evident in the gifs above, and for strategic advice, which we see a bit of in episode 30 (below), and will see more of in the future.

Hilda is particularly attuned to Reinhard’s new habit of playing with his locket whenever—were Kircheis still alive—he might have looked to him for input, approval, pushback, or whatever.

There’s nothing inherently unusual about accessing one’s memories of a departed loved one for guidance, but Kircheis was Reinhard’s only intimate relationship before he died, and now that he’s gone, Reinhard still shows no interest whatsoever in diversifying his support network. As a result, his only intimate relationship is now with an inanimate object—or, to put it another way, he has nobody.

Of course, Reinhard’s isolation isn’t entirely self-imposed. Annerose was also a source of strength and comfort before she voluntarily withdrew from his life. If things had gone differently and Annerose had stayed, Reinhard might not feel so lonely—but would that have been healthier, for either of them? I’m not sure. My guess is: not significantly.

Other People

I’m not sure Reinhard realizes how obvious it is to everyone around him the extent to which he’s been utterly destroyed by Kircheis’s death. The fact that he wouldn’t care even if he did realize is, well, not unrelated.

From the relatively trivial to the life-altering, rumors and hearsay play a substantial role in our understanding of LoGH’s world and characters. Reuental and Mittermeyer, who have already spent a good deal of time gossiping about Reinhard and will continue to do so far into the future, are responsible for a good portion of the Empire-side gossip that we see—probably as a factor of their daily standing date. In episode 30, Reinhard’s two highest ranking admirals discuss the depths of his grief in vague terms:

It’s worth mentioning (as always) that Reuental and Mittermeyer’s bodies during this scene are beautifully aligned, without being symmetrical. The line of Mittermeyer’s torso is precisely parallel with Reuental’s left arm! Look at it! In case you hadn’t noticed, I am in awe of the animation team’s treatment of these two.

Reuental and Mittermeyer’s discussion of Reinhard and Kircheis is, of course, about more than just Reinhard and Kircheis—this is Reuental we’re talking about, after all, and he is pathologically incapable of saying one thing without also meaning at least five other things. For the time being, though, this scene mainly adds another, third-person dimension to Reinhard’s grief: We already know how it is affecting him personally; now we also know that it is affecting the people around him, that they’re aware of it, and that these are important enough facts to merit scenes of this length devoted to conveying them.

Hilda, on the other hand, is a lot less prone to gossip than Reuental and Mittermeyer—or maybe she just hasn’t found the right gossip partner?—so her feelings about Reinhard’s situation are communicated to us differently, mainly via looks (above) and internal monologue:

Worry not, dear reader: I’ll be spending tons more time on Hilda and her well-articulated emotional intelligence in the very near future. For now, feel free to repeat “Hilda knows everything” to yourself whenever you see her on your screen, because that basically sums it up.

I also love this little exchange, after Reinhard shuts himself away (again) in the room on Geiersburg where Kircheis died:

Kempf and Mueller’s quick look of mutual understanding here is so simple, but goes a long way towards expressing that the topic of Reinhard’s grief is never far from anyone’s lips among the admiralty.

These are all—even the lengthy conversation between Reuental and Mittermeyer—comparatively small moments in the overall landscape of LoGH. But taken together, they convey that Reinhard’s grief is not small; not for him, not for the people around him, and not for the galaxy.

Reinhard’s Oberstein Eyes

On a subtler character note, remember a few episodes back when Rebecca likened Reinhard’s eyes to Oberstein’s? Well, you may have thought she was being facetious, but she extremely was not. Allow me to demonstrate:

Here are Oberstein’s eyes as they appeared in episode 4. Their most noticeable trait is, obviously, the fact that they’re flashing red. But another distinctive characteristic of Oberstein’s eyes is that they don’t have any highlights or other details beyond the pupil and flat, uniformly blue iris.

In contrast, this eye-heavy moment from episode 28 is a good example of how eyes are typically animated throughout LoGH—with the remarkably consistent exception of Oberstein’s which are, of course, artificial. Mittermeyer and Reuental’s eyes here both have distinct highlights, and seem to move naturally.

Here’s an example, from episode 9, of how Reinhard’s eyes in particular have been depicted before now: Note the visible highlights that change and move with his expression. Reinhard’s eyes do a lot of characterization work for him, and obviously got a corresponding amount of attention from the animation team.

Compare that to Reinhard’s eyes here, in this moment from episode 27. Like Oberstein’s eyes, Reinhard’s irises are now flat and lifeless. They don’t move with the rest of his face and have none of the energy we’re used to seeing from him.

But unlike Oberstein’s, Reinhard’s eyes aren’t synthetic. So when he lets his guard down—which he can only do when he’s alone with his memories of Kircheis—we see unbridled pain and anguish flood back into them. Poor Reinhard.

Stray Tidbits

Can someone please explain to me exactly what is going on here? Why does Yang’s desk only go up to Schenkopp and Cazellnu’s knees? Why is Yang proportional to his weirdly tiny desk? Why is his entire head smaller than Schenkopp’s crotch? This single screenshot keeps me up at night with questions.

Maybe the furniture store that sold either Mittermeyer a tiny chair or Reuental a huge chair also has a location in the Alliance.

Try to imagine something more suspicious than not having a pet. How about liking books more than pets? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Time for some fun facts: Other than Da Vinci, the three historical figures that Hilda’s cousin mentions are Cao Cao, Lazare Carnot, and Tughril Beg. Biographical info on Cao Cao and Lazare Carnot makes it pretty clear they were both, like Mecklinger, Renaissance men who had a wide variety of cultural accomplishments in addition to their political/military careers; it’s harder to find information on Tughril Beg but my guess is that he falls into the same category.

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Elizabeth #Empire #Reinhard #grief #queerness #eyes #Reinhard's locket #Geiersburg #gossip

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literateape · 6 years

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Black Panther’s Missed Opportunities

By David Himmel

WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS.

I finally got the chance to see Black Panther two weeks after its initial release. I loved it. I knew I would. I wasn’t a huge reader of the comic but I have always loved the character and the book’s world. Wakanda is a badass place and central to the Marvel Universe. I loved the character’s involvement in Captain America: Civil War and knew the Black Panther’s own movie would be exciting.

Like most everyone else who saw it or has written a review on it, I am thrilled, and not surprised, that a film with an almost all black cast, and a black director would be the gigantic hit it is with audiences and critics alike. It proves a lot to the Hollywood establishment in a lot of different ways. It’s similar to how Wonder Woman proved itself. Hollywood doesn't need white men on a poster to make money. So, right on.

But despite the incredible cinematography and thrilling action scenes and beautiful costume design and magnificent acting, I was disappointed that the film missed some storytelling opportunities. They seemed obvious to me, so I was surprised director Ryan Coogler, writers Coogler and Joe Robert Cole, and producer Kevin Feige didn’t seize them.

Killing Killmonger One of the great things about the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) comes from the Thor and Captain America storylines. With these, we avoid the Bad Guy of the Week trope in Loki and The Winter Soldier. They are both bad guys, sometimes turned allies of Thor, Cap., and The Avengers. Loki and The Winter Soldier are complex characters that, had they been killed off in their first movies, would have caused the MCU to lose exciting characters we care about and important story plot fuel cells. When Black Panther killed Eric "Killmonger" Stevens (Michael B. Jordan), the franchise lost the ability to build on an important relationship between T’Challa — Black Panther’s real name (Chadwick Boseman) — and his cousin, Killmonger.

Part of what makes Black Panther such a great film is that the conflict is one of realistic proportions. The goal is not save the world, but save a country, a people, a way of life, and then once saved, figure out what to do with that country’s ability to help others. There’s a secondary conflict, which enriches the film, and that is the conflict of family and self. Killmonger got the wrong end of the deal and it upset Black Panther. T’Challa is angry that his late father left family behind in America all those years ago. As a result, the Eric grows up angry and ready to destroy everything Wakanda stands for. T'Chaka's abandonment of his young nephew gives birth to Killmonger. This is a real human issue set against the imagination of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby with wild weapons and kickass acrobatics.

If Killmonger had lived, subsequent Black Panther movies would have established relationships and stakes to build upon and heighten. Killmonger and Panther could team up to fight an outside enemy; Killmonger could betray Panther; Panther could flirt with coming to Killmonger's side of things. This is not unlike what happens between half-brothers Thor and Loki. I don’t want to rehash used plot lines, but I would have liked to see these characters continue their fight and hash out their differences while discovering new similarities. All the best heroes and villains do this. X-Men and Magneto, Superman and Lex Luthor, Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder...

Jordan was a great Killmonger. He’s a great actor. He would have brought so much more to the franchise had he not been killed off in the final fight scene. I could watch Jordan and Boseman go at it for another two Panther movies easily. Alas…

Got plans this afternoon? Let's have a civil war The momentary civil war in Wakanda when Killmonger claimed the throne didn’t make sense. It seemed to be the studio's excuse to create a sprawling fight scene, which is fun to watch but hurt the storyline. I understand that the people need to be loyal to their king, regardless of who sits on the throne. Hell, that’s a problem with monarchy. It seemed to me that the division between W’Kabi (Daniel Kaluuya) and Okoye (Danai Gurira), and their respective teams occurred too fast and broad.

I recognize that a movie can only be so long, but there wasn’t enough hand-wringing debate before W’Kabi’s people and Okoye’s people set out to kill one another. The “Wakanda forever” idea was quickly cast aside until W’Kabi, using an armored super rhinoceros to plow through his countrymen comes horn to face with Okoye — his lover, mind you. W'Kabi asks her if she'd really kill him, and she replies — I'm paraphrasing here — “For Wakanda, I would not hesitate.” This apparently reminds of of his country's motto and way of life, which he cast aside a day before, causing him to drop his sword, and his people immediately follow suit. So now the civil war is over and everyone is cool again, I guess. Maybe the Black Panther sequel will show the awkwardness this battle caused when the unified country buries its dead.

This writing belongs more in a DC movie than in a Marvel movie. Because DC movies suck. And they suck because of lazy writing like this.

Foreplay is for chumps The final missed opportunity I found in Black Panther was in the mid-credits scene. The MCU has done a great job of teasing the next film or things to come with these scenes. In Iron Man, the scene teased us about The Avengers. In Spider-Man: Homecoming, we learned that the Vulture might be back and that Scorpion could be the next movie’s villain. This was great because it also hinted that Spider-Man’s enemies are going to go after Peter Parker, which has always been at the heart of what made Spidey’s comic books so exciting, and the stakes so high.

In Black Panther, however, the mid-credits scene shows us what we already know, what we just saw in the film’s final scene; that T’Challa will no longer be selfish and that Wakanda will no longer be an isolationist nation. We see it more formally at the U.N. Here. Coogler could have teased us with the next Panther film, or something new about Avengers: Infinity War. If Jordan’s Killmonger had been left alive, we could have seen him preparing his next play.

Bonus complaint The final gripe I have with Black Panther is not a gripe about Black Panther as much as it is with the MCU. Black Panther’s suit has always been an acknowledgement of how advanced Wakanda tech is. In this film, they improve on it by making it reminiscent of an Iron Man suit in that it’s less tangible with tech, and more tech you can touch. We saw this with Spider-Man: Homecoming, though, here it was used as a plot device. Every character in the MCU doesn’t have to have an Iron Man-like suit to make them near invincible. It feels like pandering. We love our Iron Man, so MCU is giving us some version of him in every film he’s not featured in. It’s not a big deal, just something I noticed.

I haven’t read a ton of reviews on Black Panther. I don’t know if I’m the first to have any negative criticism of the film, but I assume I’m among the few, if any. And that’s OK. I’ve never been comfortable in a crowd. Still, I’m excited to watch this movie again and again and again, because despite these missed opportunities to improve the storytelling and arc of the character, Black Panther was a great film. And it was marvelous to see Gurira being bold and kicking ass with fervor instead of moping around as she often does as Michonne in The Walking Dead. Goddamn, why do I still watch that show?

Yeah, Wakanda forever.

#Black Panther #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Michael B. Jordan #Killmonger #Black Panther review

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chicagoindiecritics · 5 years

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New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: REWIND REVIEW: The Lion King

(Image courtesy of Walt Disney Pictures via wdsmediafile.com)

For an occasional new segment, Every Movie Has a Lesson will cover upcoming home media releases combining an “overdue” or “rewind” film review, complete with life lessons, and an unboxed look at special features.

THE LION KING

Anyone who seeks to own this version of The Lion King is doing so with a “how did they do that?” curiosity. The technical brilliance is its biggest selling point. That interest is answered very well by this disc release. Unlike its Pixar and Marvel offerings, Disney compiled a legitimate look into this re-imaginings wholly revolutionary bells and whistles. This movie will look gorgeous on your high-end television at home.

ANTICIPATORY SET AND PRIOR KNOWLEDGE:

Jon Favreau’s The Lion King stands as the biggest test to all of that progress and the attached criticism because of how little beyond the pristinely pixelated exterior is actually “reimagined.” So incredibly and, dare I say, unnecessarily much is nearly a shot-for-shot duplication of Disney’s most popular and most successful film of their Renaissance era. Duplicated enjoyment may have been the goal, but that makes one question a tangible purpose for truly needing any such update. Luckily, the shininess, so to speak, is an undeniably impressive and redeeming feature to a lack of implemented originality.

With around thirty minutes of extra marination here and there simplified by screenwriter and former steady Brett Ratner and Steven Spielberg collaborator Jeff Nathanson, the well-worn tale of The Lion King, with all of its hefty Shakespearean elements, is retold for a new generation. The habitat-sustaining balance of predator and prey on Pride Rock and the coming-of-age journey of an impatient young lion cub named Simba are derailed by the tragic death of his kingly father Mufasa (James Earl Jones). The pourer of snake oil and the engineer of this tragic royal coup is Mufasa’s rebuffed and cerebral younger brother Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and his enlisted army of hyenas. Shamed to believing his idolized father’s death was his fault, Simba leaves the savanna and grows into an adult (Donald Glover) in a lush jungle far away under the practical tutelage and scrappy friendship of a meerkat named Timon (Billy Eichner) and a warthog named Pumbaa (Seth Rogen). When his former betrothed lioness (Beyonce Knowles-Carter) and a spiritual soothsaying baboon (John Kani) from his past discover Simba is alive, they urge him to return home and claim his birthright.

LESSON #1: KIDS, LET’S LEARN ABOUT FOOD CHAINS AND FOOD WEBS — Depending on your chosen educator in the movie, Timon or Mufasa, you either have a straight line (food chain) or a grander circle (food web) to describe linked survival. It’s like the duel between facts and “fake news” only sung as an anthem to help you remember. Everything that lives will die and become the ingredients to a future living thing. We all are the products of that matter ourselves. It’s just what order you observe or place you occupy in the chain or the web.

LESSON #2: CARRY NO TROUBLE OR PROBLEMS IN YOUR LIFE — Just as in 1994, the catchy “Hakuna Matata” comprises your specially packaged teachable nugget for the target demographic. The Swahili phrase meaning “no trouble” or “no problems” remains good advice for moving on from past mistakes and perceived failures with an attitude change to focus on the present and future.

MY TAKE:

The opening line of my review for Aladdin read “It is becoming increasingly tedious to both critique and enjoy these Disney “re-imaginings.” That hasn’t changed. Go back before that with Dumbo and I said “Audiences constantly question the values of duplicated enjoyment or tangible purpose for needing anything new and shiny made from something that worked just that way it was intended decades ago.” That hasn’t changed either. Now, when I go back two years to Beauty and the Beast and read my words of “Let them be different, whether that’s better or worse, because they are different. View them separately and independently. Judge them separately and independently,” I see where the situations have changed for me and for this line of movies. I can’t do that anymore.

It is the present entertainment landscape and the future dividends that have powered this 2019 presentation to an immense level of anticipation. There is no disputing this movie’s immediate and constant wow factor as a stunning visual and technical spectacle. The photo-real animation of The Moving Picture Company supervised by three-time Oscar winner Robert Logato, fellow Jungle Book Oscar winner Adam Valdez, and promoted top supervisor Elliot Newman add divine ethereal layers and qualities to every corner of Caleb Deschanel’s laboratory cinematography, right down to the wind, bugs, hair, and dust. The conjured natural beauty and animal physicality is easily some of the best-looking CGI work Disney has ever attempted of film.

The trade-off with the hyper-detailed realism is the loss of engaging and exaggerated personification of characters and performances from traditional hand-drawn animation. This happened for The Jungle Book as well. Nearly all of the expressive eyes, mouths, and other emotional facial features are flattened and reduced by limits of physiological accuracy. Cartoons, more often than not, will always do that better. It shows here and it is showmanship that is dearly missed.

Stellar voice work would supersede that weakness. However, this update lacks a standout showy performance, even with a “let’s do this” and “I got this” modern attitude sprinkled throughout the diverse casting. Now 88, the returning Jones has lost little timbre, but counts as another ingredient of replication rather than an opportunity for newness. Ejiofor is a less oily Scar than Jeremy Irons and his calculated line deliveries of sinister intent and ruthless edge are underplayed and too calm to a degree. Glover and Knowles feel like they are reading more than emoting and hitting high drama. The most zeal, naturally, comes from the characters with the most personality. The chicanery of Eichner and Rogen charms to embezzle each episode of their participation.

What gave 1994’s The Lion King its lasting importance is the trait of majesty. In my eyes, that always came from the music as much as, if not more than, the characters themselves. The songs composed by the famed Elton John with lyrics by Disney hitmaker Tim Rice brought magnetic appeal. Hans Zimmer’s percussive and choral musical score, which stands as his only Oscar-winning work to date, elevated the entire movie’s powerful presence for show-stopping impact. That memorable music, recomposed and reworked by all three men with the infusion and addition of Beyonce, is the smartest and, in the end, the most essential anchoring element of this carryover. That vital strength is successfully retained rather than lost. Now, the musical majesty has a matching and radiant visual one primed to stir both new and old amazement.

LESSON #3: BE A GIVING KING — The generosity of a ruler’s wisdom and actions gain more fealty among their subjects than any fear or oppressive control. Mufasa and Simba earned that loyalty. The other animals in their organic orb of influence genuflect in respect. Can the same effect be evoked from the watching audiences of Jon Favreau’s new achievement as they gain or lose trust in Disney’s reputation with these second comings? The regal resonance of this parable wins. No matter if the version of The Lion King being shown is sketched or coded, we too may bow to the grand splendor on display.

3 STARS

EXTRA CREDIT:

The centerpiece of this home media edition is 53-minute “The Journey to The Lion King.” The presentation is divided into three chapters with director Jon Favreau’s ever-present finger in every pie. This feature easily bests the miniature 5-15 minute attempts of its peers. Even the so-so fans for this remake will find creativity to be impressed by in the production process for this movie.

The first segment is a 13-minute portion documenting the return of composer extraordinaire Hans Zimmer to the project that earned his only Oscar so far in his illustrious career. With a second crack at The Lion King, Zimmer brought increases of drums and vocal force to the familiar. Hearing Zimmer speak on his creative process and goals is fascinating. To have him and Elton John return to curate the score and songs was a coup for the studio and filmmakers.

The middle segment is the best and is subtitled “The Magic.” Here is where we see the extensive shooting process, led by six-time Oscar-nominated cinematographer Caleb Deschanel. The DP, the effects vendor MPC, and Favreau documented their “virtual camera” process. Ben Grossman of MPC built game engine technology where VR headsets rehearse and chart possible camera movements. Those shots are merged with the settings created by Andrew Jones and his animation team from the original animatic storyboards. All involved really go out of their way to explain this very new technique and the conversations are very insightful.

To see more of this outside of “The Journey to The Lion King,” viewers can peruse the “More to Be Scene” selections. Three of the major vocal set pieces (“Circle of Life,” “I Just Can’t Wait to be King,” and “Hakuna Matata”) are presented with side-by-side screen shifts of the four visual layers. Starting with the storyboards and animation to the virtual camera shooting and final finished product, the progression is amazing to see.

Last of the three chapters, “Timeless Tale” brings forward the diverse voice talents of these animal characters and personas. Favreau leads here to explain and defend how this cast of new performers were chosen. They, in turn, excitedly explain their connection to it all. Many grew up as ardent lovers of the original and feel the Favreau opportunity is dream fulfillment and a large honor. The smiles are shared by all around.

Jon Favreau’s feature commentary takes all of this and goes even further with scene-by-scene breakdowns. His complementary insights often emphasize the documentary and photo-realistic goals and desires of the movie and all those working on it. The goal from the beginning was less anthropomorphic emotion to avoid cartooning, which addresses the contention of many for the lack of facial expressions. Emulation came first, right down to the shot creations. According to the director, the more iconic the scene, the more the filmmakers adhered to the known memories without tinkering. Changes were easier to make elsewhere.

After that, the other bonus features are pretty short and simple. Entertainment is the chief goal where the movie itself can be played straight or as a sing-along version. For those who want to cut straight to the ditties, there is a Song Selection feature to pick any of the eight lyricized song scenes. Music video inclusions are given to the two new original song additions, “Spirit” by Beyonce and “Never Too Late” by Elton John. Expect one of those to get an Oscar nomination slot come the winter awards season.

The final minor bit is “Protect the Pride.” It is a tidy 3-minute PSA on lions highlighting the beneficial Lion Recovery Fund efforts supported with a bucks from Disney’s fat checkbook. The organization’s goal with this partnership is to double the formerly endangered lion population in the wild by 2050. Helpful and harmless, it represents a positive message and kissed ring at the same time.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#833)

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