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starkey · 4 years

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[Spoilers for The Haunting of Bly Manor!]

I know everyone is super loving Bly Manor cause ~80′s gays~!!! but some stuff about it sat really bad for me so I’m gonna try to verbalise it. Obviously if you loved it and aren't vibing with a critical analysis I'm not offended if you don't read lol. Also I’m not trying to say that there’s anything wrong with liking it! I just...didn’t, and I want to think about why, for a sec. (Sorry this got a bit long)

I think part of my problem is that I count Hill House as one of my favourite shows ever and I had ridiculously high hopes for Bly Manor, which probably couldn't ever have been fully realised. And there was actually a lot about it that I liked, especially at the begining. I thought the kids were great, and I loved the core group of Mrs Grose, Owen, Dani and Jamie. I liked the fact that the Henry Wingrave element was expanded upon, and I liked the complexity of Rebecca and Peter, and the room it gave them to be fully realised human beings. I quite enjoyed that they kept to the Hill House ghost mythology - that ghosts are lost in time but fixed in place, and that they jump from memory to memory, and haunt the people that they care about without knowing. But there were lots of things I wasn't so keen on...

Until the last episode my issues were mainly that it felt a bit...lazy? I can't stress it enough but the british accents were really really bad. Old!Jamie’s accent was deeply unbelievable and jarring, as was Henry Wingrave's, and although Peter’s accent was passable (I assume because the actor is English and not American like the others) it still didn’t match his mothers, or his ‘background’ - i.e. it sounded like a private school Edinburgh accent, not a Glasgow kid dragged up through poverty in the scheme - and yes there is a significant difference in those accents. I appreciate there’s a degree of privilege at play here - I’m used to the BBC producing high quality television where these details aren’t messed about with, and the production of Bly Manor was thoroughly American, but to put it in perspective, it would be like... if a character had a deep south dirt-poor Louisiana upbringing and spoke like somebody from a private school in Virginia. Other details also felt off - Rebecca’s costumes all seemed weirdly 2020-adjacent, none of the fashion or ancillary details seemed to match the UK in the 80s (which has a distinct feel), and the house that Peter returned to on his ‘memory bumps’ looked much more like an LA condo than a Scottish council house. Really, they should have just set it in America, because it felt more American than British, and they clearly didn't have any British people involved in the production.

I really didn't enjoy the narrative framing device of 'someone telling a story to a group of people at a party'. It makes sense in the Turn of the Screw, because the narrator is reading from a document written at the time of the events, so the narration becomes a first person one where the degree of detail is logically accounted for. In this take, the story alternated from being one which made sense - us just watching the characters move around normally - to one in which 'Jamie' (who’d apparently had a complete personality transplant that had turned her from a feisty northern lesbian into a coy, mysterious victorian englishwoman with a severe accent problem) adopted a falsely old-fashioned manner and told the wedding guests a ten hour long story about a haunted house. And somehow neither Flora nor Miles recognised any part of this story in the least, in spite of what must have been overwhelming similarities? It was very jarring.

I also kept waiting for a twist on a level with Hill House, but never got one. The big twist about Mrs Grose was, I thought, obvious from almost the first episode. I mean the woman didn’t eat or drink anything and spent most of her time confused about where she was, I thought it was fairly clear that she was a ghost. And yeah, I suppose because I’ve read the book I was never in any doubt that Peter was already dead. The ghosts in the background were much less spooky than in Hill House. They stood around in broad daylight while the characters talked and joked and it kind of felt like the ghosts had wandered in by accident and felt too awkward to leave. I really liked how spooky Hill House was - even apart from the jump scares I thought the psychological elements and the open discussion of death and grief was really affecting. I didn’t feel that at all in Bly Manor, and by the time we found out the details of Mrs Grose’s death, I’d already come to terms with it. But all of this would have been fine, if it hadn’t been for the last episode.

I really really didn’t enjoy the bury your gays ending. And I’m not even usually against this in principle! I think in a dark/horror context, where there’s implied to be an ever-present threat of character death, it’s unreasonable to expect that no characters will die or experience tragedy - and in cases where there’s abundant LGBT rep some of those characters will by necessity not be cis/straight. So I don’t have a problem with gay characters meeting tragic or dark ends, as a general rule, particularly when it serves a narrative purpose and isn’t gratuitous. My problem here was in the manner and necessity of that death.

There were ways in which Dani could have died in this story that I would have felt were narratively meaningful and cathartic, but the manner in which she did die failed to hit those beats for me. This is a story in which two women in the 80's fall in love and are doomed by the world around them (we're already in Meryl Streep 'groundbreaking' territory here, in terms of metaphor). They know death is coming for them, that it will likely destroy them both, that they won't have an opportunity to grow old together, that eventually one day it will catch them and everything will be over - they're on borrowed time, and they spend a lot of that time looking over their shoulders waiting for shit to break bad. In the end, they're destroyed by a force in Dani's body/mind that she can't fight, that she can't win against, and the spectre of which haunts her through the years. Like... the obvious parallel here is mental health, and suicide - they even go out of their way to feature that classic heartsink moment with the overflowing bath. And to me, any story that has a message of 'no matter how strong you are, no matter how much love you have and give, or how beautiful the life you've built is, eventually the dark forces in your mind will Get You and it'll probably be before you make it to middle age' is... really shitty. The other echo that struck me was the HIV/AIDS crisis - obviously wlw were relatively spared from this, in comparison to mlm, but it still carries a cultural legacy of pain and trauma, and I really didn't need this show to grind down on that for me.

And the thing is... in the original story, the governess doesn't even die! Miles does, so maybe there's an argument here that Dani sacrificed herself in exchange for Miles's life in this retelling, but I'm still struck by this element of, like... they added this in! They chose to do this! Only one character dies in the course of this show (with Mrs Grose dying before the show starts) and it's the gay woman?? Why?? What did it show?? Why was it necessary?

Not to mention, the 'epilogue' scene paints Jamie as being very lonely and isolated. I'm not sure why the children didn't recognise ANY elements of this story from their past - even assuming they forgot the ghostly elements of their childhood, they should be able to see the similarities in the characters, but the scene also seems to imply that Jamie really isn't very close to Miles and Flora, and that she doesn't even really get to have a relationship with them as adults, in spite of losing everything to protect them, and not having any family of her own.

Almost everybody else gets a happy ending, but Jamie ends the night of the epilogue standing alone at a table, with the love of her life dead in a cursed lake, doomed to spend eternity watching over a crumbling house, and idk to me? that kind of sucked.

#the haunting of bly manor #bly manor #the haunting of hill house #hill house #bury your gays #spoilers #long post

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pennys-th0ughts · 5 years

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The Bond (Chapter two)

The hot and dark liquid went down my throat as thin small lava rivers going downhill, something that made me rip off the last veils of stupor from an overslept morning. Amara had made some blueberries pancakes and the smell was flooding the kitchen in every direction possible. The soft perfume of the fruits lying on a black glass bowl mixed with Amy’s was making a citric-floral combination that, to me, was a little irresistible. Amara came to me and wrapped her arms from behind; she sank her face in the hollow of my neck and kissed me tenderly. The contact with her soft skin gave me goosebumps and sent a delicious shiver down my spine that made me close my eyes just to enjoy the warmth of her breath. Once she had me at her mercy, she began playing with my hair, interlacing her fingers and pulling locks of it in a way that only she knew it would put me under an unbreakable spell.

– ¿Is it me or are you looking for an exciting way to start the day, princess? – I asked feeling I was losing the battle of restraining myself against her sensual charms.

– I will leave that to your own judgement, Robert – Amy playfully winked at me with her green eye.

She kept massaging the back of my head but pulling my hair a little harder this time. She was definitely decided to make me lose my temper by making the walls of my will to crumble, brick by brick. Amara finally merged her lips with mine, got her hand under my shirt and started sliding it over my chest slowly. The tip of her index finger met one of my nipples and their greeting lasted a couple of minutes. Amy’s circular movements made my chest skin get tense and by the time she let go my already sensible nipples, I was going through a rough boner my pants were hardly keeping at bay. Amara undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants and I immediately felt my underwear expanding, giving some room to my private parts.

– You are sailing in dangerous waters, darling…

Amy shut me up placing one of her fingers on my lips, got her hand under my underclothes and began giving me a delicious hand job. As she started speeding up the pace, as my grouting began to get louder until she muffled the noises with her mouth one more time. Amara was feeling really horny that morning and it didn’t took so long before she took her underwear off and take a sit on my lap. The movements of her waist were intoxicating and delicious, like the finest wine being tasted for the first time by the wisest palate. She was the sweetest wine and I was starting to get really drunk.

– ¿Am I doing it okay, daddy? – She boldly whispered and bit my earlobe.

Every move she was making and every word she was teasing me with were only fuel to the fire she had lit on me and I feared that everything will end up in a very big mess, but she didn’t and kept on going with her naughty little game. Amara was pressing herself against me so strongly that her walls began feeling tight which meant only one thing, she was ready and she was inviting me to cum inside.

– Let it go, daddy – she demanded pulling my hair backwards.

Amy sucked my lower lip and bit it after and that was it. I couldn’t hold up myself much longer and I finally released all the tension of my body to my lower abdomen. Slowly I started feeling how every muscle relaxed and tasty little spasms invaded me, running down from the back of my head to my toes. Same reaction took over Amara’s body. She was exhausted but I could tell in her expression that she was satisfied; she lied down on my chest without leaving her place and softly caressed my cheek.

– That tasted better than breakfast, princess – I dared to point that out in a mischievous tone-. I could get used to this.

Onyx showed up at the kitchen’s door and sat there while judging us in silence with his amber eyes. Then he started washing his face with one of his paws. Amy and I got dressed and picked some of the clothes up that were still scattered all over the floor. We exchanged looks of complicity and laughed since Onyx should be thankful for not witnessing a short conditioned movie minutes ago. Being also judged by a cat during such intimate moment would have been a way too embarrassing experience to bear with.

Outside the streets were being filled by an early afternoon sun and a warm breeze. Spring was just blooming like some wild flowers in the countryside; sparrows were crowding the trees and harmonizing cheerful little songs along with the rest of the nocturnal beings. Another day was slowly coming to an end leaving behind the soft perfume of rosebuds. Amara led the way to the quarry’s lake. She was excited about the idea of taking a dip in those turbid waters with no clothes on and I was starting to be dragged by the same idea.

A pale white moon was high above in the sky, shedding some light upon us, bathing our bodies silently with blueish tones. Amara was in the lake and all I could see were her slim delicate curves moving like the small waves around her. I was enjoying my little private show in silence, capturing every single detail with my blue eyes and sending them right where I wanted them to be. In the distance, Amara looked like a mystic creature, untamed and hussy; the perfect portrait of the mythological mermaid that existed only in child fairytales. Her wet silhouette seemed to be pearled by the moonlight. Suddenly she went for a deeper dive and vanished of my sight. I was started to get worried when few minutes passed and she didn’t come up to the surface. I stood up and began dissecting every inch of the lake searching for her when my eyes turned their usual color to an amber yellowish one. The spectrum of tonalities and shades were clearer which meant that I could easily see in the dark. I was getting in the lake when I finally saw her little head popping out of the water. The feeling of relief made me sigh deeply and smile like a fool at the thought of being so overprotective, but I couldn’t help it.

Amara started her way to the shore and once I had her in front of me, all soaking wet and naked, she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest; as mine rested on hers, my hands holding her waist began shaking. The burning feeling was slowly crawling upwards through my arms as if I was placing them on a bonfire. Amy took my shirt off and motioned me to sit on the grass; then she continued undressing me provocatively without leaving her tenderness behind. I was undoubtedly at her mercy and actually I didn’t mind to be part of her dirty little games that often. Such level of trust and commitment had strengthened even more over time and that, ironically, instilled certain fear in me. The only fear I was afraid the most: losing her.

The look on my face must have been of complete distraction since she had to wave her hand in front of my eyes to make me snap out of it.

– Robert, – she chuckled- ¿you alright?

I shook my head until my eyes got fixed in hers then I took her face between my hands and laid a kiss on her plump lips.

It was an overwhelming hot morning when the end of everything I knew began. A suffocating day that reminded me the hell I came from and how far I have travelled to put it behind, a place where darkness and shadows were the main features of a faceless creature which primary mission was to consume and destroy. I was an abominable entity that survived because I kept on feeding on so many people’s fears and nightmares, I was nothing but a bad seed that successfully made its way and bloomed in-between the human’s mind cracks of insecurity, sorrow and loneliness. I was a rotten fruit and all the darkness a person can barely imagine. I had been designated one mission: to conquer the weak and kill the rebel minds, to infest another world in decay and turn it into a nest for the beast to breed and multiply. I was a messenger of death and death will follow me wherever I go, no matter how hard I try to deny my true nature, it would always remind me what I had been created for.

The blue cover book Amara was holding in her hand flew through the air and its pages got torn up violently ending up most of them scattered on the floor. As the object crashed on the concrete, so did her body with a thud. I saw everything happening in slow motion and the powerless feeling that flooded my body froze me on the spot disabling almost all my motor functions except for my eyes and my breathing, everything else had been shut down like a machine having a malfunction. The chaotic noises came first, later, a deathly silence and finally the indistinct screaming. Amara was crossing the street when the careless driver hit the break but he didn’t make it on time and his reckless intent to cross when the light was turning red resulted in a fatal tragedy for many people. A few got injured because of the shattered glass that flew in every direction and some metallic parts coming from both cars got detached, but only one was killed.

My knees threatened to collapse but I made the effort to not to fall, my eyes were already full of tears and the knot in my throat was chocking me more and more. I ran to where Amara was lying without looking around me. My eyesight was fixed only in one place preventing me from looking anything else. Amara’s body was severely injured and it was easy to see the many broken bones the car crash costed her. Her black hair was dyed in red because of the pool of blood her head was resting on and her beautiful but pale face was distorted with pain. I knelt by her side and got the chance to see a slight smile on her lips before she passed away. That was her own way of telling me that everything will be okay. That was her way of saying goodbye.

I took Amara’s lifeless body in my arms and whispered something to her ear that no one would be able to hear then I picked her up and disappeared using one of the sewer holes taking advantage of the shocked and curious audience still focused on the car crash.

Her body started to get cold but the expression on her face was peaceful, as if she was in some kind of deep sleep. I put her body inside the circus wagon I used to live in for so many decades and closed the narrow door. I sat down at the edge of the small stage and thought for long minutes. I was feeling empty and trapped in my own cobwebs. The desperate sensation was drowning me, dragging me into the darkest and unspeakable depths of madness. For a moment my body felt light as a feather. Suspended in the air by invisible threads, that were tied up to my hands and feet, my limbs began moving on their own making me dance incoherently while a voice very similar to mine started laughing diabolically. “¡Dance, Pennywise, dance!. Pennywise the dancing clown…”

A deathly hauling came out of my throat that forced me to fall on my knees. I covered my ears to stop hearing the guttural voices that kept spinning around me like some kind of dying swarm until the noise became louder and unbearable. There is when I gave up to my most compassionate side and decided to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, something that was punishable by death in case you get to have a soul and if you didn’t then you would surely be condemned to be torn in pieces and live an endless agony until you would be finally gone. I breathed in profoundly and encouraged myself to proceeded. I still had time but I was lacking of the most important component of this body switching ritual, the final vessel for the soul.

Amara had the little bad habit of leaving one of the bedroom’s windows slightly open. I opened it up and got inside trying not to look suspicious and making the less noise possible to not scare Onyx. Once inside I searched for him in the living room. He was peacefully sleeping in his bed next to the fire place. The moon was pouring its light inside the room from one of the windows and it looked like a soft blanket covering Onyx’s carbon black fur. I walked towards the cat and sat down in front of him, then, I gently patted his head to wake him up.

– Something terrible has happened, my little friend, – I lifted him up and fixed my eyes with his. Onyx didn’t turn his gaze away and kept looking at me as if he was capable to understand what I was saying- and I'm going to need your help.

I could feel his tiny heart accelerating and a crystal like little tear rolled down one of his cheeks. A mixture of bewilderment and sorrow oppressed my chest once more; the mortal creature and I didn’t need much more than to look at each other to understand each other. Onyx had finished creating a special bond with me and that was all I needed.

To replace someone’s old body the new one needed to make space for the soul thus it had to die. Amara had died not long ago and Onyx’s body was in perfect shape and healthy, but his soul needed to leave his body in order to Amara’s could take place in it. What I was about to do was against nature laws and every possible human right, but I didn’t care. I was blindfolded by sadness, rage and guilt, to not see it coming. My sense of perception was sharp and got more accurate over the years going beyond of any other kind of human perceptive skill but what happened this day I just couldn’t foresee it.

Onyx was lying down next to Amara’s broken body in complete silence as if he was getting ready for what I was going to do. In his amber eyes there wasn’t a hint of fear but deep sadness. Noticing his restlessness I hurried myself to begin with the body switching process.

– This is not going to hurt my little friend – I comforted him and patted his little head.

I placed four fingers on his eyes closed and two on Amara’s and began singing an ancient chanting which origins belonged to the world of my dimension. I repeated the key words three times, took a red thread and tied up Amara’s hand to Onix’s paw. Suddenly the cat stopped breathing.

Some minutes went by and everything around me was nothing but silence until something extraordinary happened. I lifted my hands from their eyes and Amara’s had turned amber. Another couple more minutes went by until Onyx finally started breathing again and there is when I cut the red cord. In that moment I felt an indescribable relief as if I had been holding my breath under water for a long time. I took the cat in my hands and picked him up carefully; I started slowly rocking him in my arms like a newborn child waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. When he finally did, I locked my blue eyes on his and felt an overwhelming joy warming my chest. And there they were, those beautiful blue and green eyes, those living marbles that stole my heart the first moment I saw them…

I want to thank the collaboration of @sunflowerskissed for helping me picking the name for the cat.

This story was made in commemoration of my little furry friend Taco, who passed away not so long ago.

I miss you dearly buddy 💔

#penny's thoughts #pennywise #short story

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tumblunni · 5 years

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I had a really weird dream involving Dr Maddiman. Its a shame i can barely remember any of it and also it seems i woke up before it ended? Like i just had this overwhelming sense that allll the plot threads were gonna be wrapped up any second now and then BOOM awake. So just a whole bunch of random stuff happened with no real explanation at all.

It was some sort of post apocolyptic setting i think? Humanity was in these small isolated cities fighting against some sort of invading army but we never actually saw the aliens themselves. And some part of my brain was like "it makes sense its the same rules as a hairdresser and the design takes cues from a pack of AAA batteries". I have NO idea what that means! So basically everythibg was super vague and undescribed and dream-me just had a sense of already being a long time fan of this series and knowing enough to fill in the gaps. Apparantoy this was some sort of adaptation of a thing id already seen, but id been told the ending was different and more accurate to the manga? Also i wasnt actually a person watching this show i was still the protagonist of the show yet i acted like i'd been reincarnated and relived this week a million times or something

ANYWAY the way dr maddiman comes in is that he was some sort of 'brilliant but dangerous' expert the government had hired to help our fight against the aliens. It wasnt really explained why he was.. yknow.. maddiman. Like is this meant to be that ghosts also exist in this sci fi universe? Was he a half alien hybrid instead of a yokai? Was it just human maddiman with the personality of yokai maddiman due to ptsd...? In any case he didnt seem entirely tethered to the laws of reality and nobody knew exactly how he pulled off all his scientific miracles. He was treated as the only guy who could understand the mindset of the aliens, but that also made him dangerous because he trapped in the delusion of everything being okay and fun and happy and he often did evil things by accident while having good intentions. But they didnt have anyone else who'd cracked the code of the alien weaponry so they had to put up with him. He was just sorta assigned a crack team of secret agents whose job was Be The Old Man's Friend So We Dont All Die. Dont let him realise how the world is all destroyed and such, just play along with his goofyness and try and remind him to do his important work while dancing around why its important. it was super creepy how he was locked up and gaslighted like this!! And he was all 'oh im sure when im done with my ultimate experiment i can go home to my wife and kids' and yeah it was implied here that the same backstory applied :( 'distract the old man and validate his false opinion that his family is still alive and waiting for him' :( poor sci fi madds :(

Oh also for some reason he seemed to be wearing elements of Adventure era Dr Eggman's outfit? But just the general style of the coat and the wearing goggles that he never actually uses. And he had a very warm and cuddly autumnal colourscheme

Anyway i was part of the Super Secret Grampa Cherishing Division whose job was to act as his assistant but also secretly be packing a bazillion weapons to neutralize him if he poses a danger to humanity. But i started to genuinely care for the guy and question the 'any atrocity is permitted for the sake of saving the world' philosophy of my bosses. Also it was just very weird how it was this post apocolypse alien fighting action thing yet i didnt see ANY OF IT cos this story was confined to this one laboratory. It was surreal hearing about all this stuff happening offscreen!

I think Maddiman's main project was some sort of dimensional transport thing using salvaged alien tech? It was just a door in his lab that usually led to a closet but if he got it working itd teleport us straight to the alien base and save the world. And a lot of it wasnt explained but i got this great sense that itd all come together with a great twist ending evebtually but then i woke up before i got that far. Same for the reveal of this maddiman's new sci fi backstory and soooo many other dropped plot threads. Alas!

So anyway: closet. Closet with one of those bead curtain things cos i was thinking about them when i fell asleep. It was supposed to be a teleport but when it malfunctioned it had really scary negative effects warping people's biology and stuff. I remember one of the test subjects was sent in for a five day trip to a specific alternate dimension but then when they came back itd been several years and theyd had to survive in a deadly wasteland and been mutated into a hellbeast. And maddiman had a huge breakdown because he felt like his recklessness and optimism towards this experiment had caused this mistake to happen, and he'd never realized just how awful the consequences could be. He was babbling motor mouth discussing theories for where it went wrong and there was something like 'we'd only tested it for one day trips and assumed that just programming two of them would equal two days but actually with each additional number on the screen it multiplies the days by 3" And there was something about like...the bead curtain was the machine rather than the door itself? Like trying it on a bunch of different doors around the lab to try and find a way to cure this person.

And there was some sort of artificial intelligence computer with the personality of an adorable lil girl, who helped maddiman do calculations and stuff. She missed the mistake in this calculation cos her concept of linear time and the limits of human organs was kinda undeveloped. She only existed within the realm of numbers after all, and didbt even have functionality to record footage of her human friends's faces. No idea wtf a human looks like! So maddiman was lost in his desperate grief of potentially accidebtally killing or at least mentally scarring a person and the government would probably kill them now if they saw they were a super mutant. And he was sobbing and begging this AI to help, his last resort was her maybe being able to see a brainwave that he'd missed. But she was freaking out cos she didnt even fully understand why maddiman was crying let alone what to do to fix it. Eventually she did manage to find a solution theough some simple different logic thing that she had from her perspective as a computer. And that person was saved but still traumatized and maddiman had a moment of realizing just how high stakes everything was and freaking out. He was like 'whats wrong with my head, why didnt i notice that, why was i so reckless, why cant i seem to grasp basic human logic that i need right now" Having a big existential crisis of 'wait how did i even get in this lab, where's my family and why do i seem to have superpowers'. Protagonist mission: hide all the goddamn mirrors to avoid this weird ghostgramp (...aliengramp??) from realizing he's dead (..or an alien??) and losing control of himself. And everyone was running around talking about 'containment procedures' and poor maddiman didnt know that if his panic attack continued he might just straight up be killed for outliving his usefulness. So the protagonist was desperate to help him calm down and it sucked SO MUCH cos they had to lie about his past and weave the web of deception around him again for his own safety. In the end they just hugged him close until he calmed down, and all the other employees were like GASP THEY ACTUALLY TOUCHED THE EVIL DANGEROUS SUPER EVIL MAN and protag was like 'i am 1% away from slapping the next bitch who insults this grandpa'. And it was super depressing cos once he'd calmed down he seemed to start forgetting that anything bad had ever happened?? And he was really panicking and scared cos he didnt understand why he was forgetting, and he knew he had to cling onto something important but he didnt know what. And then five minutes later he was back to haha cheerful nothing is wrong and i love doing my fun science in this room im never allowed to leave. And protagonist was crying the tears that this poor gramp wasnt allowed to cry :(

Also actually i think maybe he was a ghost AND an alien? Like he was a scientist who died in some sort of tragedy back when the aliens first invaded, but along the way he'd been infected so his body got back up as a twisted combination of human and inhuman. And this was something unique to him, like he just happened to have a genetic mutation in his blood that was totally undetectable in life but happened to mix unpredictably with this alien virus to turn him into a hybrid instead of just killing him. So the government was very interested in finding a way to replicate this and create new supersoldiers, as well as just taking advantage of this dude's confused mental state that granted him a unique understanding of alien tech that made him more effective than other scientists. And, of course, also made him easy to manipulate :(

And i also had a feeling that maybe his backstory was mixed up with Adventure dr eggman? Like here it seemed he had a daughter instead of a son, and she had a similar death to Maria Robotnik where she was assasinated by the government he worked for, and it tipped him over the edge. I think Maddiman-alien-scifi-dude originally died trying to save her from being used in some sort of experiment? Like she was already dying of a disease and thats why maddiman took this job to have access to powerful government technology to try and look for a cure. But when the whole alien apocolypse happened, the evil government decided to use her for experiments cos she was 'basically dead anyway'. Theyd just lie and tell maddiman she died of her illness. So this was how they found out that this particular family's bloodline had a mutation that let them form a viable hybrid with alien dna. They were turning this poor kid into a monster in the basement while lying to her dad about her being dead! And maddiman was about to commit suicide from having no reason to live anymore, with the hell of this apocolypse world and the false impression that his kid was already dead. But somehow monster-daughter sensed this or something and broke out of containment to try and save him, and when he saw her he was able to recognise her even in her twisted state. So when the soldiers gunned her down in front of him and fed him some lies about this not being his daughter, he just completely snapped. He tried in vain to fight back and take down as many of them as possible in revenge, but well he was just a simple round dad with no ability to fight a government. So he was unceremoniously executed along with his kid and they shoved the bodies back in the lab to continue testing. "Damn that overemotional science dad, he made us execute our most valable test subject! But at least this way we can analyze his corpse to see if the mutation is passed down on the patrilineal side." But at some point during the fight, monster-daughter's blood had splashed on her dad and gotten into his bloodstream. So the seemingly dead body suddenly got up out of the morgue and started sucking people's blood or something. And this led to the current situation where they have him locked up cos he's a valuable test subject but also hey he has 100% reason to kill all of us and we're screwed if he remembers his past. Also i think the computer AI thing was his subconcious attempt to recreate the personality of his daughter even if he couldnt remember she'd ever existed :(

Anyway at some point things escalated and there was this final showdown versus both the invading aliens and the evil governmebt guys. I think there was some corrupt greedy politician dude who stole maddiman's teleporter tech and sold us out to the aliens cos he wanted money and power or something. And probably predictably the aliens just threw him off a bridge after he gave them the thing, because seriously even this evil army thinks these government dudes are too evil!

So this big actiony event was happening and Maddiman was freaking out like 'no no no i cant leave the lab everyone wpuld be mad at me, i dont even know what its like outside this room' even when he was in the middle of being attacked by aliens. He was forced to face his repressed memories to survive, and he naturally had a massive fuckin freakout! And i think maybe when protagonist character was trying to protect him he accidentally lashed out with his powers and hurt them, and he was so horrified thinking another person he cared about was gonna die because of him. Protagonist was like 'dont worry gramps its just a scratch' but he'd already freaked out and run away into the battlefield to his heavily implied death.

BUT THEN at some sort of moment of dire need, he came back all powered up and re-memoried and was like 'i have every reason to despise humanity but im not gonna let more children die because of these damn corporate monsters (and also literal monsters which are infinately less scary)" And he did some sort of great sacrifice to save the protagonist at the cost of his own life, and it was super dramatic falling from a building into a lake of fire or something. While sobbing and smiling peacefully thinkibg "did i atone for my sins? Will i be able to see my family again?" As his smiling face sunk beneath the flames and the protagonist cried out into the abyss...

Aaaaand then i dont really know what happened in the big battle and i also never found out wtf the solution was to fixing the transporter thing or how the aliens invaded or any of the million plot points that were non gramp related.

I just remember that when we all saved the day and defeated the baddies we found that maddiman had actually survived and it was a big hugs reunion. He was like "OH YEAH i totally forgot i literally already died once and regenerated from it, and this was the entire start to my story. My bad!" *shrugs inexplicably not dead arms*

So yeah in summary im glad my brain summoned up a universe where my favourite sad granddad is literally immortal now, but also why did it torment him with an even sadder plot than his original one

#weird dream tag #the sequence with trying the teleporter curtain on different doors actually took up the majority of the dream #it was ridiculously long and i wish i could slap my brain and be like 'geez save some time for explaining gramp backstory more!'

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hollowedrpg · 5 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, ANNE! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Sybill Trelawney. I’m so freaking ecstatic to have Godric’s Hollow’s own little seer! I’m so happy to have someone writing Sybill that understands just how complex she is. While so many members of the Order can escape the war by hiding away, for Sybill, there’s constantly a battle being fought in her mind, and you conveyed that beautifully. I can’t wait to see where you take her character.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

Name: Anne

age: (seventeen and up only) 31

preferred pronouns: she/her

timezone: EST/GMT-8

activity: (include a brief explanation) I work full-time and am in a 6-month training course that meets once a month two hours away from me. I also haven’t rp’d in a tragically long time because of my mental health. That being said, I do have two days a week all to myself and a fairly generous work schedule, so there’s absolutely no reason I can’t work in a few hours 4-5 days a week. I’m also counting on my excitement keeping me going long enough to form a habit of checking the group regularly.

are you applying for more than one character?: Not at this time.

how do you feel about your character dying?: (in a roleplay centered on war, death is always a possibility. as an admin, it’s best to know ahead of time which players are comfortable with playing it out.) I would definitely be disappointed, but I could play it out. I’m a sucker for good plot and drama.

anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.)

ic details.

full name: Sybill Audra Trelawney

date of birth: Nov 10th 1953

former hogwarts house: Ravenclaw. A reputation as a seer that left everyone clamoring for readings made them forgetful of the fact that Sybill was actually incredibly competent in most of her other classes. Transfiguration gave her some difficulty, but when she actually put in the time to practice, she’d master any of the spells and techniques thrown her way. The lives and futures of her peers tended to keep her preoccupied, at least until the courtyard accident in her fifth year. Traumatized by what she’d seen and then lived through, she dove into her studies as a way to distract herself and her inner eye. It didn’t work - she was still haunted by visions of the cruelty and violence burning through the country and of what terrible things some of her classmates got into when no Professors were around to catch them. The only thing her new devotion to her studies did for Sybill was successfully isolate her from the rest of her classmates, who in time stopped coming to her for readings as often. By the time she graduated, she was considered an oddity who they could mock, until they needed her for something, usually some hint of news of how a family member was faring in the war.

sexuality: bi/pansexual. Sybill likes to dramatically state that it isn’t the person she’s attracted to, but their aura and their sense of person. She isn’t exactly in the market for a relationship, however. Something about seeing the death of someone you dearly love can do that to a person. Sybill can’t yet bring herself to be too close to anyone in a long-term sense, but there’s nothing wrong with occasionally spending a long, cold night staying warm with someone else.

gender/pronouns: cis-female/she and her

face claim change: No, thank you! Zoe Kravitz is wonderful.

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

Sybill is incredibly complex and full of contradictions. She is intensely dramatic in her presentation, but down to Earth at her core. Part of her drama is all in fun. Since she was a young girl, she’s enjoyed teasing others and making fun of the stereotypes people hold about seers. She loves playing a role and being over the top. However, when it comes right down to it, she takes the inner eye very seriously and doesn’t appreciate it when others are flippant of the sight. Time is such a fickle creature and there are so many variables and players that being able to make accurate predictions is not some cheap parlor-trick (even if it is fun to play that part). However, as the war goes on, she finds it harder and harder to keep up the act. Sure, she tells her clients what they want to hear, but never anything too real. She won’t tell old Mrs. Boyce anything about her great-grandson, not even that he is actually still alive. The joy the old woman would feel would be beyond words. But then, how could Sybill protect the woman from searching for him and discovering the truth - that he’s a Death Eater who was responsible for the murders of his cousin and her family? Dark truths have always haunted Sybill, so she swallows them with shots of whiskey and assurances that the weather will be just fine for that small garden party you plan on throwing this weekend. Sometimes small and petty comfort is all we’re afforded.

Sybill doesn’t make friends easily. Her peers rarely seemed interested in her - just what she could do. She grew close to some girls in her year at first, but as time passed and her visions grew darker, she found it hard to be there for them. She would grieve twice for them - once when the vision hit, and then again when it came to pass. Her friends found it harder to relax around her. They would always be wondering what terrible things she had seen that she wasn’t telling them. If she did happen to tell them, they would desperately search for ways to prevent the vision from coming to pass, which more often than not was in vain and just served to make them resent her more. Her father’s condemnation of her curse ate away at her. After the accident in fifth year, it became a roar. Sybill would only ever bring misery and misfortune to others. The more she tried to bury her abilities, the more closed off she became. The day she graduated Hogwarts, she rode away on the Express in an empty compartment, with only her cat to keep her company.

She may not make friends easily, but she is not unfriendly. Perhaps distant, but never cold. She genuinely cares for others, even if she isn’t sure how to do right by them. Being surrounded by so much pain in Godric’s Hollow will be a real test to Sybill’s compassion. A platter of biscuits won’t be enough to ease the heartache felt by those who’ve lost everything. If she had done more, could she have prevented some of the tragedy? Her father had always told tales of how Cassandra brought misery and destruction when she unleashed her sight, but Sybill had done far worse by locking it away. Her guilt will not pass easily and will eat away at her until she can find someone to trust who can help her through it.

+Sybill is resilient. She could fog her mind and keep the visions at bay, but she refuses. She believes that she was given the sight for a reason, and that day Arabella found her was it. Sybill believes that she was always meant to prophesize the fall of the Dark Lord and now it is her duty to help keep the child safe. It’s why she’s come to Godric’s Hollow. Though a deceptively capable witch, she has no interest in war strategy and little stomach for battle.

-Sybill is often condescending. In school, things came so easily to her that it would baffle her that anyone could struggle or need her help with test questions. She just could not understand how people might have struggled with simple charms or potions. Her sight and ability to make predictions gave her insights to the manners of thinking of her peers and so she couldn’t understand how people might mis-read others. When her classmates would come to her for love advice or for answers to their homework, Sybill would often lose patience. It was all so simple - how did they not get it? For a time, she was forced to be a tutor in an attempt to get her to learn a little empathy and to make her a little less haughty, but it could only end badly, which it did.

+Sybill is reverant. She has a great deal of respect for her gift and for time itself. Though not common, she’s seen visions change midway through their playback and the outcome be completely different than what appeared to be the path at the start. She’s had the feeling of a vision float in the back of her mind, refusing to come into focus until moments before the event pass and then overheard a participant breathe a sigh of relief, stating “I had absolutely no idea how I was going to handle that!” She overall is a very respectful person. When she came to Godric’s Hollow, she first walked slowly through the town, breathing in the despair and heartache until she felt it. Stopping in her tracks, there was a house on the right. Pristine, except for a blown-out bay window that overlooked the destroyed garden. At that moment, she knew she’d found it - where she was supposed to be. While there are those who balk at her and call her disrespectful for taking up residence in the abandoned dwelling, it’s quite the opposite. It’s a house that has experienced such great love and loss that to simply abandon it and allow it to decay would be doing it a disservice. It’s not and never will be her’s. She is simply its caretaker. No one is coming back to claim it; she knows this. But she can’t let it fade away.

-Sybill is spiteful. She doesn’t get past slights easily. A lot of it comes from embarrassment of not always seeing the betrayal coming. The more blind-sighted she is, the harder it is for her to forgive. She forgave most of her school friends for their abandonment of her. She nearly always saw it coming and could understand why they did it. It was the kids who knew nothing about her but turned mean and cold that she couldn’t forgive. The kids who never appeared in any of her visions, who she had no reason to suspect, who suddenly turned on her - those were the betrayals that hurt the worst. When she was an adult, the hurt mostly came from those who still didn’t understand. Those who thought a seer in a dusty shop on Knockturn Alley would stop the war. They came wearing their mourning robes, throwing Sybill’s tea in her face and screaming that she ought to have told them - told them that their son was next. She should have told them not to let him go off by himself that day. She should have warned them that he was going to be snatched - that their family would be made an example of by the Death Eaters. She understands their pain and she tries to forgive it, but it hurts her too. Their blame hurts and is unfair. They’re adults - by now they should understand how this works (there’s that condescension again).

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

Compared to a great many others, Sybill has gotten off light and she knows this. Her family escaped being casualties of war by instead succumbing to completely natural calamities. If the Death Eaters know the source of the prophecy they fear, they haven’t considered her important enough to do anything about. That isn’t to say that she’s unscathed. Sybill has lost her friends. She’s lost any hope of making a significant connection with another person. She dreads the visions that come to her, showing her flashes of violence and misery. She is surrounded all day by death and sadness and that’s certainly taken a toll on her mental well-being. She maintains a dramatic and sometimes playful air, but it’s a desperate clinging to simpler times.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? Why?

Honestly, Sybill stands with those who want to rebuild. She doesn’t understand how they can just hide until the war is over, when the Order is the only cohesive group fighting the Death Eaters. In her mind, if the war is ending and they’re hiding, then it’s only over because Voldemort has won. At that point, she fears that everyone will be too defeated (literally and figuratively) to resume fighting. If they don’t start getting their act together and begin striking back, then there will be no coming back.

But she never says any of this. Sybill is not a member and doesn’t feel that her opinion matters. She isn’t a strategist. She isn’t a warrior. She would be arguing for other people to do the fighting and she knows that isn’t fair. So for now, she keeps her mouth shut. She avoids vocally taking a side and she focuses on getting everyone somewhat settled in. She fixes up the home she has taken over as “caretaker” and she helps others do the same.

Has Sybill had any new visions since arriving in Godric’s Hollow?

No, I don’t believe that she has. It’s only been a few weeks since she’s relocated. While it’s true that she can’t prevent herself from having visions (not without powerful concoctions that she hasn’t taken since she was forced to as a child), she has been trying her hardest to make herself preoccupied by throwing herself into repair projects around the town. With everyone else reeling from the events from the past few months and walking on eggshells, Sybill doesn’t want to rock the boat with an untimely vision. But she can feel them brewing. She can feel them just on the edge of her sight, not quite in focus, but gaining form with each passing day.

Does she think she can help the Order, or does she believe her visions will only hurt?

Sybill wants to help the Order. She thinks she can help the Order. But she knows that her visions will only hurt - they already have. If it weren’t for her vision, Godric’s Hollow would still be a cozy village filled with witches and wizards of all ages. If it weren’t for Sybill’s visions, there wouldn’t have been such a massacre. The Order would not be in such a ruinous state and the war wouldn’t be stuck in some standstill threatened with mutually assured destruction if the fighting should continue on like this.

But as much as she blames her visions, they’re a part of her. They’re who she is and she wouldn’t change for anything - not even peace and an end to this bloody conflict. They all know that the boy will be the downfall of Voldemort. It’s just a matter of time and keeping the boy safe. In that capacity, Sybill is determined to help the Order. It was her prophecy that started this, it’s her responsibility to see it through.

extra

I wasn’t sure I’d be applying for Sybill, so I went ahead and tried to get a feel for her with the “if I were…” questionnaire. In my mind, she’s incredibly complex and loves the melodrama associated with seers

if i were a god/goddess, i’d be Hanuman - the Hindu deity of perseverance, service, and scholarly devotion, he aided Lord Rama in his battle against evil forces. After the things you’ve seen and witnessed, it would easy to admit that father was right - that you’re cursed and a bringer of dark tidings and misery. But you refuse to give up. You wrap yourself in another shawl and you persevere. Though great, you resist the temptation to give up and fog your mind or dull the senses as father made you do so many years ago.

if i were a season, i’d be false spring - the weather is on the upswing, the snow and ice have melted. The mud is thick, and grass will appear any day now. But up above, the sky is a deep blue and the wind has a biting chill to it that can only mean an impending freeze. Take the plants back inside and gather the firewood. These good tidings never last long.

if i were a time of day, i’d be early dawn, when the dew clings to grass and spiderwebs and a fog sits in the field - the day has barely begun and there’s still plenty of time for a few surprises.

if i were a place, i’d be the hidden reading nook in the dusty bookshop you didn’t know was still open - quiet, dark, but with a hidden hope and optimism.

if i were a type of weather, i’d be an oppressively hot day in summer - though scared of the power within, there is no denying its intensity. The opposition was given its first real taste of it and it made them desperate and overly aggressive. They paid a heavy price for their arrogance and there’s no telling what more tales of the future could do.

if i were a scent, i’d be coffee and whiskey mingling with an uplifting haze of sandalwood.

if i were a plant, i’d be a wisteria - beautiful in its blossoms, it appears delicate, but is incredibly resilient and can be poisonous.

if i were an element, i’d be earth - grounded and steady but intensely dramatic and moving.

if i were a color, i’d be a dark slate blue - haunted yet calming.

if i were a song, i’d be The Chain - your father promises that if you would just stop this foolishness, everything will be better. He isn’t mad at you, he still loves you, but you make it so damn hard when you carry this burden and insist on growing it instead of stamping it out. But he doesn’t realize that this thing that you have isn’t a burden. It isn’t a curse. It’s who you are. And if he can’t love you in spite of it, then, well… he never really loved you and never will.

if i were an item of clothing, it’d be a shawl - you cover yourself and who you really are. You bury yourself in the smooth fabric and become what they want you to be. You pull the silk over your nose and breathe in, letting it filter out the perfumed ash that hangs heavy in the air, the kind you’re supposed to sit in, as if that helps your inner eye see their futures better.

if i were an object, i’d be a candle - so smooth and solid from a distance, but covered in a thin layer of ash and brimming with uncertainty. A giver of light to illuminate the darkness, but reveals and strengthens the shadows in the process.

if i were one of the seven deadly sins, i’d be sloth - the fear of the known and the inability to stop it, leading to inaction. It is said that evil thrives when the good fail to act. When faced with visions of the future, it’s so much easier to forget it and move on.

if i were one of the seven heavenly virtues, i’d be humility - a deep respect and subservience to the nature of time. There are things that will always come to pass and others that are far more fickle - how do you know which is which? How do you know what won’t be made the worse with your meddling?

#hp rp #rp #marauders rp #lsrpg #hp roleplay #accepted

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meginoi · 6 years

Text

Take Back The Kingdom - Chapter 1

The kingdom the Sanders family ran was prosperous, a monarchy that was loved by its people. When a terrible tragedy struck, prince Roman was left orphaned with his corrupt uncle as king. But rebellion stirs, and when Roman is found without any memory of who he is by a mysterious stranger, the rebellion might just have chance they were waiting for…

Warning: mentions of death, poisoning

King Declan stared out over the city below. Tiny figures were bustling about in the still falling snow, their inane babbles dying out long before it would reach his ears. He wondered what they found to talk about, didn’t they live the same boring life every day?

He sighed loudly and turned away from the window, walking across the stone floor of his chamber. His footsteps echoed loudly as the sound bounced off the walls, somehow making the room seem cold, despite the roaring fire that crackled and danced in the corner and the red drapes with gold trim that hung from the bed, windows, and walls. The deep winter that the kingdom was under required a fire to be in the fireplace day or night, or else they risked succumbing to the elements.

He turned and stared into the orange flames that flicked and waved in front of him, letting his mind wander over his plan. His brother and sister in law’s deaths had been…a tragic accident, but his nephew’s wouldn’t be. A grotesque grin stretched across his face, sending a malicious look to dance in his eyes.

A knock at the door and a quiet voice, announcing that the court physician was waiting for him in the throne room, snapped him out of his thoughts. He composed himself, wiping away his grin with a mere thought and letting a sense of cold detachment settle in his eyes.

Declan flung open the door, ignoring the meek girl that stood there as he strode down the hall. People parted at his presence, dipping into deep bows or curtsies until he had passed. He saw no sign of Roman on his way, although his usual raucous laughter was easy to hear as he passed the gardens; the boy frequented the place, even in the cold weather.

As he stepped into the throne room, the heavy door slammed shut behind him, eliciting a dull thud. The throne room was more like a large ballroom with high, arched windows on either side and a floor of well polished wood. An elegant throne sat on an elevated platform at the other end of the room, framed by rare jewels that made up the coat of arms on the wall behind. A plush, red material was stretched over the seat and arms, framing the gold coloured metal that made up the rest of the throne. Intricate designs had been carved into the legs and back of the chair, images of woodland vines and mythical creatures curled up the legs and stretched over the back, too delicate to be seen unless you were up close.

A middle-aged man stood in the centre of the room, holding a small vial. He turned at the king’s entrance. “Good morning, Your Majesty. A fine day, isn’t it?” He asked, bowing low as he spoke.

“Is it done?” Declan asked, ignoring the question.

“It is. This will knock the prince out long enough to dispose of him in the woods, like you requested. However, it will not kill him.”

“Good, I don’t want his death to be as easy at that. Did you add the failsafe, like we discussed?”

“I did, sire. If something goes wrong, Prince Roman will lose his memory. I am unsure how long that will last though, I have no way of telling.”

“I will make sure it won’t come to that, he will be long dead before the potion has a chance to wear off.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty. Is there anything else?”

“Just one more thing. If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone I will kill you myself, is that understood?”

“Y-yes sire.”

“Excellent. You may go,” Declan announced, watching as the physician hurriedly bowed and scurried from the room. At the quiet click of the servant door, Declan smirked. The best way to rule a kingdom was for your subjects to live in fear. With a swish of his fur lined cloak, he turned and strode from the room.

—————

The kitchens were operating in their usual, barely controlled way. People rushed from one station to another, lighting fires and carrying bowls of hot food. As Declan’s footsteps echoed across the floor, the entire kitchen seemed to freeze. Conversations quickly died off until you could hear a pin drop. The king scowled, letting his gaze move over the servants, many of them dropping their gazes to the floor.

“Get on with it, then,” Declan spoke, breaking the silence. The kitchen jolted to life again, the staff jumping out of their feet-freezing-fear at the order. The tense silence remained though, devoid of the casual chatter it held before.

The king paid no attention, swiftly making his way towards the head cook. Declan made no attempt to glance down and learn the man’s name, he had no need to. The cook turned away from his stock-taking, placing the parchment on a nearby table before bowing deeply. “What can I do for you, my king?”

Declan remained stoic, the grunt of approval he gave the only sign for the cook to rise. He opened his hand, revealing a vial no bigger than his palm, a clear liquid inside it. “This needs to be put the prince’s food as a matter of urgency.”

The cook hesitated for a second, eyeing the vial cautiously. “Forgive me for my curiosity, my king, but what is this concoction? I am hesitant to add it to the prince’s meal without this knowledge.”

Declan’s expression morphed from bored detachment into something darker, something hard to place. “Do you not trust your king?”

“Oh sire, that was not my intention at all! Please accept my-”

“Then do not stand there grovelling, do what I said. It was not a request, it was an order. I did not expect to be challenged over a mere tonic, you would make prince Roman suffer muscle aches after a long day of sword fighting?”

“Not at all, your highness! I’ll make sure it is prepared for this evening!”

“Then get to work, evening is quickly approaching.”

“At once sir!” The cook agreed, sweeping into another low bow. Declan didn’t reply as he turned and strode from the room. That had been close, the cook would have to go. The peasants who worked in the castle were all too stupid, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The deep winter bought with it dark evenings; nights that would have been spent outside, enjoying the sunshine, were now spent huddling around the fire for warmth. Prayers for survival ‘til spring was a heavy burden on the people of the kingdom, which was a worry that was kept far away from the prying eyes of Roman. As they boy grew, Declan could see he held the same foolish heart his father had, one that would take money from his gambling fund and give it to the people. That was something Declan wouldn’t stand for.

Yet, it was something that would happen if Declan didn’t take action. So, when he sat for dinner with his nephew that night, he prayed to any god that was listening, asking that his plan go ahead without a hitch.

As he took his seat at the dead of the table, he could hear his nephew loudly greeting anyone he passed from all the way down the hall. To Declan, this was stupid, insolent! How would anyone obey his orders if they thought he was their friend?

“Good evening, uncle!” Roman exclaimed as he entered the dining room, striding forwards confidently and taking his usual seat at the table.

“Good evening, nephew,” Declan replied, greeting Roman in his usual detached tone. He observed Roman cautiously, planning out the last minute details of his plan. Roman had come to dinner in his formal regalia, as always. That would have to be destroyed, it would be too easy to recognise if his body were to be found. Yes, some trousers such as the peasants wore would do just fine, but a shirt would not be necessary, he would freeze quicker without one.

Roman aimlessly recounted his day as they ate. Declan let himself look like he was listening, while he retreated into his own thoughts.

‘What was the best way to announce Roman’s death? How short should the official mourning period be without raising suspicions? A search party will be sent out tomorrow to make sure he has truly perished.’

“Uncle, I think I might retire early tonight,” Roman murmured, aimlessly pushing his half eaten food around his plate.

Declan looked up from his own meal. “Oh, is something the matter, nephew?”

“I seem to be feeling a little under the weather all of a sudden. May I be excused?”

“You may.”

No sooner had the words left Declan’s mouth than Roman was standing and stumbling out into the hallway.

Declan watched him leave, fighting to contain his joy. Everything was going according to plan. He was itching to follow Roman, to see his handiwork, but he stayed seated. It was better not to raise any suspicion.

The dining room was blissfully quiet without Roman’s overwhelming presence, and it was a peace that Declan could get used to very quickly. No sooner then he was sure that he had given Roman enough time to stumble back to his room was he out of his chair, under the guise of ‘concerned uncle checking on his nephew.’

The halls were fortunately empty, so Declan’s guise stayed firmly locked away. Roman’s room was barely a five minute walk from the dining hall, reassuring Declan that the ten minutes he had given Roman was more than enough time, even if Roman’s world was nauseatingly turning, as the physician said it would.

He came to a stop outside Roman’s door, listening for any signs of passerby before slipping into the room and sliding the lock into place.

Roman stood on the other side of the room, one hand braced against the wall as he clutched his head with the other. His expression was contorted into one of pain and he lifted a worry filled gaze to his uncle as he heard him enter.

“Uncle, I think I may require the healer, something is not right.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you see the healer, Roman.”

“What? W-why not?” Roman grimaced, gritting his teeth. His eyes were slowly closing as he physically fought to keep them open.

“Because that would mean ruining my own plan, and after all the work I put in that would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?”

“You poisoned me? You monster, you fiend!” Roman pushed away from the wall, fighting to stay upright.

“Poisoned is such a harsh word, nephew.”

“Okay then, tried to murder me!” Roman retorted, stumbling as he took a step towards Declan.

“I think you’ve said enough. Sleep now.”

“I will not! You will not get away-“

“-Oh I already have. I’m bored of this back and forth. Goodbye, Prince Roman,” Declan spat, letting that grotesque grin stretch across his face as he kicked Roman’s legs out from under him.

Roman was unconscious before he hit the floor.

#Take Back The Kingdom

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plotlinehotline · 7 years

Note

I know its highly recommended against, nut my main character does end up dying, and I've written it to be as peaceful and closing as possible, but people still say to never do this.

The Thing About Writing Rules

I will talk a bit about character deaths later in the post, but anon framed this question in too perfect a way to pass up. I think many writers, new or experienced, will admit that writing advice can be quite subjective. Where we start to doubt ourselves is when we see the same advice given from many different people and many different sources, and we start seeing that once subjective bit of advice as a “rule.” If everyone’s saying it’s a bad idea, it’s probably a bad idea.

But there’s something about these supposed rules of writing that many people forget. Reasons.

When I’m at work at the library, I am asked many times by people to remove overdue fines from their account. As much as I’d like to remove all the fines as a gesture of kindness for people, we impose overdue fines for a reason. We want people to have an added incentive to bring items back, so other people can enjoy them. So when it comes to removing fines, I’m more likely to do it for someone who is always on time with their books, and simply had one extenuating circumstance that delayed them, rather than someone who is regularly late and expects us to cut them a break every single time. Our goal is to get books back in a timely manner, and constantly cutting fines for someone that is routinely late sends the message that we don’t take fines seriously, and they’ll return their books “whenever they feel like it.”

My point here is that we have a reason for the rule, and my understanding of the reason allows me to make the best decisions about when to break the rules. So if you’re considering doing something in your story that everyone says not to do, take the time to understand the reasons why people say not to do it.

Why You Shouldn’t Kill Off Your Protagonist

So let’s talk a little bit about why people say you shouldn’t do this. Because then we’ll be armed with enough knowledge to break that rule effectively.

One reason is point of view. If you have a first person narrator, killing them off creates a bit of awkwardness with your point of view. You’ve spent the entire novel telling the story from that character’s perspective, so essentially, once they’re gone, the story ends. Abruptly. Which could be a problem if I have many other plot and character arcs to give a satisfying conclusion to. So with this reason I’ve described, let’s see if we can break this rule.

Maybe my first person narrator is not the only first person narrator. Maybe I’m switching between two characters, and therefore choose to the write the death of this character through the other character’s eyes. With this other character, I’m able to write their death with some distance, and I’m able to continue the story after the death, in order to tie up any loose ends I may have left hanging.

Maybe there’s nothing left to resolve following the character’s death. Perhaps my narrator succumbs to battle wounds following the ultimate climax. Maybe the bad guy is dead, and any plot lines from other characters have been effectively wrapped up either before the climax or directly following (before our MC dies). Perhaps our MC’s goals have been adequately addressed, whether they achieved their goals or have accepted that they won’t (because they’re about to die). If the only possible aftermath of the story is typical grief from other characters involved, it might be okay to break the rule.

THE CAVEAT: Don’t try to compare deaths in fiction to deaths in reality. Yes, in reality, you don’t always get to make amends with old friends you’ve quarreled with, and you don’t always get the chance to accept your successes or failures in life. And sadly, sometimes you don’t even see it coming. But these are tragedies that readers can’t always handle, and you run the risk of losing people if you don’t take the time to properly conclude the story and all its conflicts. Imagine you wrote about two best friends who had a huge fight before your MC died. If you don’t resolve that tension between them before you kill the character off, then you’ve left a major character conflict on the table, and unless you continue the story to show the best friend’s atypical grief (which I don’t recommend unless your story’s main conflict was also left unresolved), a reader will feel unsatisfied. And unsatisfying endings often result in books being thrown across the room.

TO THE ANON: You said you’ve written it as “peaceful and closing as possible.” In my mind, you’ve attempted to address everything I’ve discussed here. So these reasons for not killing a protagonist are irrelevant to you. You’ve done your due diligence.

Another reason is its role in the story. Writers often use character deaths as solutions to external problems. What I mean by external problems are problems that are happening outside of your story - things like writer’s block, being bored with your story, having no idea how to end it, wanting to surprise readers or elicit emotion from them. The prime example of an internal problem would be a detail of your story mythology that makes death unavoidable. “How do we defeat Voldemort? Destroy all his Horcruxes. Harry is a horcrux? Harry must die.” Harry’s death is a solution to an internal story problem, so this is an instance where it works. So with this reason I’ve described to avoid character death, let’s see if we can break this rule.

Maybe an external problem becomes an internal one. It’s possible you did get bored with your story, or that you’ve always wanted to write a powerful death scene that will bring readers to tears. It’s okay to use character deaths for these reasons, so long as you create internal reasons as well. If you’re writing your story’s climax, and you decide to kill off the main character to shock the readers, make sure you are going back through your entire story and effectively foreshadowing to this death, and giving it a role in your story. What will this character’s death solve? Will it result in the end of the antagonist? Will it have significance in other character relationships, or serve some personal destiny for them? It may have started as shock value, but you can’t let it end there. Sometimes when you force yourself to go back and work the death into the story, you’re forced to evaluate if it’s worth it to you to do that extra work, and you’re able to make the best decision for the story.

THE CAVEAT: Don’t make too many sacrifices to make character deaths work. You might be willing to make drastic changes to your plot in order to add in a death you’ve just come up with, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you should. If you’ve got a cohesive plot, and an ending that is nearly there, you could be set back for months by introducing something as major as an unplanned character death. When you’re so near to completion, a huge setback like that can completely derail you, and the draft meanders for a while before it winds up unfinished. If you find that you’re stuck with how to resolve things, and the only thing you can come up with is killing the character, I would challenge you to go back through your story and search for details in your conflict that will offer up a solution you just haven’t seen yet, rather than one you have to add in.

TO THE ANON: You used the phrase “ends up dying,” which to me sounds like it’s something that was worked well into the plot. When we say that something “ends up happening,” usually it means that something has happened that we may have tried to avoid but there were factors involved that resulted in it anyway. So your using that language leads me to believe that there were internal factors contributing to the characters’ death that couldn’t be avoided, no matter how hard they (and even you) tried to fight it. If this is true, then again, I think you’ve adequately addressed this problem and should be clear to continue with the character death.

Why You Shouldn’t Listen to Me (or anyone else’s general advice for that matter…)

Because when it comes to your story, I honestly know nothing. I’m pretty useless actually.

Even with all this discussion, I can’t say for sure if this character death will work for the anon’s story. Even if they gave me a detailed plot summary, I couldn’t say for sure if it would work. Because with something like this, it comes down to the specific details of your story - the nitty gritty things that I couldn’t evaluate unless I read the entire story from start to finish and was able to form a reader’s opinion. All I can do is give you general advice that you may or may not be able to apply to your work.

Now, I may not have time to read every one of our followers’ stories (what a great job that would be), but there are millions of people out there that can do that for you. I’m not going to go into finding writer friends because that would be a huge tangent unrelated to this post, but you need to make big decisions like this based on advice that is coming from someone that has read your specific story, and knows your specific plot and characters, and your specific writing style and intentions. Advice (like mine) that has been generalized to work for many people might be helpful, but it’s not the end all/be all for your personal story decisions. You have to do what works for your exact situation.

Having said all that, what was the point of my rambling on about reasons and breaking rules? I wanted to show you that it’s not about someone telling you that you should or shouldn’t do something. It’s about understanding the “rules” and the reasons behind them so intimately that you’re in control of them. That you can decide if breaking it will negatively impact your story.

When faced with a problem like this, don’t say, “I shouldn’t do this because everyone says not to…” Instead, research why people say not to do it, and decide if those reasons why are relevant for your story.

Good luck!

-Rebekah

#ask r #character deaths #writing rules #character

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astxlphe · 7 years

Text

Bow before the dead

For the DGM Fanworks Initiative.

War; Hardship; Violence

(I’m late again. I didn’t have time to finish it yesterday)

Summary: Komui lives through the war. His family doesn’t. Character death (a lot), nothing graphic though. Just a small mention of decapitation and dismemberment, again, not graphic.

The first time Komui was confronted with the death of an exorcist, it hit him harder than he expected. He was used to death. He had read every thing he could about the children who died from the experimentation, and he had seen dead finders every day since he joined the Order.

Reading and seeing were vastly different things. The exorcist had been a fifteen years old girl, Susan, the daughter of one of Reever’s subordinates.

The accusing look he received when they came back with her body, torn and bloody, her parasitic type Innocence mercilessly ripped from her chest, would stay with him until the end of his life. He had been the one who sent her, the one who chose her mission and who decided she was qualified enough for it. Strong enough.

He had been wrong.

Her father resigned the next day, and they never heard of him again, but Komui would never be able to erase his eyes from his mind. They followed him everywhere, even in his nightmares, and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for his rising stress and sleepless nights.

He held Lenalee close as she cried for her fellow exorcist, and wondered if one day it would be her turn.

———

He spent way more time studying potential mission than he used too, staying up all night drinking coffee and making sure it was the right choice, that Tina didn’t risk severe injuries in this particular mission, that Kanda wouldn’t have to use too much of his regenerative abilities. He tinkered for hours after sunset, making better golems and better barriers because the finders needed them to stay alive.

Paperwork cluttered his desk, but he didn’t care. Signatures weren’t more important than preserving human lives.

———

Every day, he assigned a new team to a new location and waited for them to send their reports or find Innocence and hopefully come home alive.

Every day, there were some that never did.

He looked down as the empty coffins. There were no bodies to burn, the latest casualties having been turned to dust by Akuma.

He could do nothing but close his eyes and tilt his body forward, thanking them for their sacrifice.

And then he went back to his office to riffle through files and select a team for the next mission.

———

The two new exorcists weren’t found; they came to the Order by themselves.

Lavi and Bookman came in at a bad time, there had been a huge battle and many lives had been lost, and they weren’t exactly allies. They wouldn’t even know they existed if they hadn’t decided to come. They were there only to record, and it was by pure luck they had chosen their side.

Still, Komui welcomed them, and first sent them to the Head Nurse for a physical check up. He needed to know everything he could to make sure that their new not-exactly-allies would survive, and decided not to think too much about why the Innocence didn’t make them Fall if they weren’t really on its side.

Lavi was around Kanda’s age, and Komui smiled at their antics. Daisya immediately took a liking to the redhead, and while Kanda didn’t like the boys’ carefree attitude, Lenalee thought their relationship was funny.

It was nice to see her bonding with people her age — even if they were boys — but it still saddened him to think that those four were children.

It shouldn’t be up to them to save the world.

———

He didn’t really know what to expect of Cross’ apprentice of three years, but it certainly wasn’t a skinny fifteen year old. Cross was never one to care about people, so why would he even take an apprentice? Maybe his cursed eye had made him interesting for the General…

Still, it looked like that the only new exorcists were children, lately. And parasitic type one. He would have to study him carefully before sending him on any mission.

He spent the night reviewing Timcanpy’s records as well as what he knew about his arm and deciding who would be Allen’s partner for his first mission.

He had a new family member to keep safe.

———

“From General Tiedoll’s unit: Daisya Barry. From General Sokaro’s unit: Kazaana Reed, Chalker Laboun. From General Cloud’s unit: Tina Spark, Gwen Flail, Sol Garen. A total of 6 exorcists, all dead. Including the finders, it’s a total of 148 death confirmed.”

They hadn’t suffered such a loss in years.

Komui listened to Reever’s list of names, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t been good enough.

As always, he bowed, thanked them, and welcomed them home.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it — about those families who would never know their relatives were dead, about his men who were losing hope. He needed to think about victory, but he wouldn’t forget that he had failed them.

He didn’t dream about the eyes anymore. Instead, he saw his family dying and it was his fault.

It wouldn’t stop him; he wouldn’t let it. He needed to keep working, to keep the Science Section busy making better equipment.

He wouldn’t fail them again.

———

The weeks following team Cross’ departure from China had been exhausting. Allen had died, but survived thanks to his Innocence — if anyone had told him he would one day thank the Innocence for anything, he would have called them insane. A Level 3 informed them that the other exorcists had reached Japan, and that was everything they knew. It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but after days without news from both teams, they were thankful that they were even alive.

And then they came home.

All of them, including Cross. It was a miracle.

Of course, things couldn’t stay joyful forever, because as soon as they were settled in the infirmary, Central decided to poke their self-righteous nose into the Ark incident.

He felt dread settle inside him as he realized that, once again, his exorcists weren’t threatened by Noah or Akuma, but by the Order itself.

Lenalee had fallen into Leverrier’s hands once. He wouldn’t let that man get his sticky fingers on anyone else.

After all those years as Supervisor, the exorcists’ well being was one of his priorities. It was like a mantra running around his head, motivating him to be better, more efficient.

Keep them as safe as possible. Keep them alive. Make sure they can always come home.

He had come to the Order looking for his only family and found himself with the responsibility of a bigger one. He couldn’t allow himself to let them down.

———

Komui hated being so weak.

He could do nothing but watch as a Level 4 slaughtered scientists and finders. The barriers he had made and improved so the finders could protect themselves and fight against Akuma had been useless.

He had to watch has his men’s blood splattered, as their heads were torn off, as an Akuma invaded their home bringing death and destruction with it.

Dozens of dead and even more wounded, Headquarters in ruins, their numbers so reduced that they would need to bring scientists from different branches, because Komui had failed again.

Lenalee once again bound to something she hated. Allen, unconscious, controlled by his own Innocence. All the exorcists had suffered some wounds. It should have been their safe place to rest between battles.

But no, everything had been destroyed and Komui had been unable to do anything. It seemed like the only thing he was good at was, as usual, bow before the dead and thank them for their hard work.

———

He had thought things were bad before, but they went even more downhill after that. They had to move to a new Headquarter. Allen was the 14th’s vessel. Cross was gone, probably dead. Allen wanted them to kill him if the Noah took over. Every day brought its new package of bad news and Komui wasn’t sure how he could still keep the cheerful facade up, but he did.

They were all tired, irritated, frustrated, and Central’s constant presence in their new home only made things worse. Link wasn’t a bad guy, but he worked for Leverrier, and Komui couldn’t trust anyone working for Leverrier.

Of course, to make things even worse, the Order had dropped to a new low by not only recruiting a nine year old but also by starting human experimentation again.

It was like they hadn’t learned their lesson nine years ago. Whatever the Epsteins had been doing, it would inevitably end in a tragedy.

———

His and Bak’s prediction had been right, and Komui had been once again powerless. They had lost Kanda, Bookman and Lavi, Allen was in prison and half the exorcists were stuck in the infirmary.

Keep them alive, his mind supplied. Keep them as safe as possible. Always welcome them home.

He couldn’t afford to break down, even when Allen was declared a traitor. The exorcists needed him, so he smiled and took break from work to play chess with Timothy and make cute golems and Komurins. He was too exhausted to enjoy it, but he couldn’t let them now. He was their fixed point; the person waiting for them at home with a hug and a smile on his face; they couldn’t see him fail.

———

He sent General Tiedoll with Miranda and Krory in Russia. There were rumors of Innocence, and Akuma were gathering in a small city.

They came back with God’s crystal, and Miranda’s funerals were held the next day.

The Supervisor gritted his teeth and tried not to cry as he held Lenalee against him.

He needed to be better.

———

Komui’s current exhaustion didn’t matter; the war wouldn’t wait for him to rest. So he ignored his need for sleep, drank coffee, and worked. The exorcists and finders needed better, stronger weapons and only the Science Section could provide.

“Keep them alive,” he muttered to himself, bent over calculations.

He ignored the strange look he got. He ignored the whispers born from the differences between the man and the rumors. People always said he was lazy, constantly sleeping, always joking and never working. Yet it didn’t seem to match Komui anymore.

It wasn’t that much of a surprise. War changed people, and even though he had been leading the European Branch for almost a decade, the past year had seemed to go faster than any other.

It was like they were at a critical point and everything was currently being determined. People were anxious, scrambling to put things back together and trying to gain some advantage.

Nobody was fooled, though. They never had any advantage and gaining some was unlikely.

All they could do was to try their best, and thanks those who sacrificed themselves for a war they had no hope of winning.

———

Allen had been seen somewhere in Europe. He sent Kanda, now General, along with Lenalee and Marie. They came back with a seriously injured Kanda and reports of silver eyes turning gold.

The Order didn’t organize funerals for traitors, but it didn’t stop them from mourning.

———

It was Komui’s responsibility to take care of everyone. To keep them from breaking. His cheerful face, eccentricities and usual antics didn’t make anyone smile or roll their eyes anymore.

Lenalee started to tell people to keep walking forward. Those who were desperate, who wanted something to cling on, to give them hope, listened.

Timothy wasn’t doing well either. He was way too young for this, and the others did their best to keep him happy. But Allen was gone, and Miranda dead, and Lavi missing, and he was starting to understand war better than ever. He tried to be strong, but they knew it was hard on the ten year old.

Komui’s heart broke a bit more when Timothy stopped crying. He just stared blankly as Cloud’s body was cremated.

Komui wished he could do more for those children.

———

The dead kept piling up.

The Noah twins killed Krory. He took them down with him, but it was only a small consolation.

A week later Sheryl Kamelot defeated General Sokaro. Thankfully, Timothy, on a mission with the General, survived. He was harshly interrogated by Leverrier, and revealed that the Fourteenth, Cross by his side, stepped in and messily dismembered the Noah of Desire.

The boy was never the same again. His eyes were haunted in a way that was almost painful to look at, and Komui spent hours helping him fall asleep without nightmares.

He went to the chapel and bowed in front of the coffins waiting to be burned, thanking them for their efforts and promising again that he wouldn’t fail next time.

He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he had to try.

———

The extermination of the Noah Clan had started again. It was like the Fourteenth and Cross knew exactly where each mission took place and made a point of showing up. It was probably Link. The CROW had been seen with them several times, despite all evidence of him being dead.

Of course, the dead didn’t always stay that way.

———

After the Fourteenth and his allies started to kill the Noahs, things went even faster. They also regularly made a polite conversation with an exorcist to update them on the situation or, more precisely, on the always rising number of dead Noahs.

Considering him an ally was a mistake Komui wasn’t willing to make, despite Leverrier’s attempts to convince him otherwise. The Inspector believed he could control the Fourteenth despite Cross’ presence, that he would only attack other Noahs.

Kanda had to die before the man realized no one could control him.

He had promised Allen to kill the Fourteenth, and he never stopped trying. He was killed and Mûgen shattered by the traitor of the Noah Clan.

Logic told Komui he wasn’t at fault. When it came to the exorcists, Komui had stopped listening to logic and started praying.

(He didn’t like relying on God but he was desperate. He tried to reassure the exorcists, it felt fake and they knew he was broken too.)

———

Between the Fourteenth and what was left of the exorcists, there were maybe four Noahs left, including the Earl.

He found an old file in his office and looked through it before letting out a bitter laugh. He wished missions were still about finding Innocence and the Heart.

 It was like both side had realized what kind of shitty situation there were in and were trying to kill each other off as quickly as possible, while the Fourteenth got rid any exorcist hindering him on his path towards the Noah Clan’s destruction.

They had lost Chao Ji and General Tiedoll because of him. The former General, Marian Cross, seemed to be an exception to his disdain for humans, but Komui had no idea how long it would last. Link hadn’t been seen for a while now, and people thought the Fourteenth had gotten rid of him.

They had three exorcists left, not including Lavi and Bookman, who had been declared dead. Sometimes, during wars, people just disappeared and were never heard of again. They had their own, empty graves next to they comrades’, and Komui regularly visited them to apologize. He didn’t promise to be better anymore; he knew he would never be.

“Don’t stop.” he whispered to an empty room. “Keep walking forward.”

He wanted to remember what it felt like to have hope.

———

The Earl and what was left of the Noah Clan were dead, and the remaining exorcists came back.

Komui bowed deeply in front of the three black coffins. The war was over; he didn’t need to pretend anymore. He was allowed to break down and cry.

He couldn’t. He felt empty. Dead inside.

‘Thank you for your hard work,’ he managed to say, his eyes burning but still dry. ‘And welcome home.’

———

There was a note on his desk with an address on it, with the words “just in case you want to see them”.

The note took him to a church in the countryside. An old woman took one look at him and sent him toward the small graveyard, where the Fourteenth was sitting, facing a bunch tombstones.

“What happened?“ Komui asked.

“Mana killed Cross,’ the Fourteenth answered. “I killed Al and Mana.”

The Order didn’t hold funeral for traitors and deserters, so the Fourteenth did.

(Still, Komui couldn’t look at him, not when he had killed exorcists and wore the face of a family member.)

“Mana?”

“The Earl, my brother. We were family, all four of us. Then Mana went crazy. I had to save him. I had to kill him, I didn’t want Al to die but—”

Komui just nodded.

“We still won,” the Fourteenth added. “I should be happy. We won.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

———

The Fourteenth gave him a tight smile and left, and Komui could’ve sworn there were tears on his face. He never saw him again.

The war was won but everything else was lost.

#dgmfanworks2k17 #dgm #d gray-man #komui lee #black order #exorcists #noah clan #the fourteenth #character death #a lot of them #well that was morbid #loony's writing

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sometimesrosy · 7 years

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okay since it's 10 days until season 4 can you tell me your predictions for things like ships and character deaths??

At this point, I have trouble with real predictions, because they are going to adjust the stories they’re telling in season 4. I didn’t actually develop any predictions last season until episode 3.05. But the things I came up with around then are based on story structure. I began predicting the long term story based on the structure I saw developing, and hints about Dante’s Descent Into Hell.

First prediction. Bellarke is happening. Period. It always was, we just weren’t at the point where it was being realized, but the development. Now we’re at real Bellarke blossoming. Also, Bellamy and Clarke are not going to die. IF they do, it will be in the last episode of the whole show. But even then, I think I am doubtful that the writers would make that choice based on what they learned about grimdark storytelling this past season. (I hope any way.)

I ship niytavia and ice mechanic, but neither of them are predictions. I just like them. Give me some time with the storyline for season 4 and I’ll do better predicting non-Bellarke ships.

This isn’t a prediction, just a warning. I believe that anyone can die on this show (except Bellamy and Clarke) so I NEVER think anyone is safe, not even my favorites who I don’t ever want to die, like Raven. No character is safe. No relationship is safe. I don’t know how they are going to handle Briller with the m/m relationship, because I don’t think that’s going to last. I still think he’s a red shirt.

Okay, so now that I’ve given that warning and said that I always expect anyone can die and prepare myself for it, I want to actually talk about a theory I have about where this whole show MIGHT be going which might change the entire “anyone can die” trope. Which MIGHT mean that, rather than losing all the rest of our delinquents and earth parents, they actually DO survive, deserve to survive, and get to LIVE.

WHAT? HOW?

Okay well here’s the thing. We’ve been talking around the fandom about The 100 having possibly a five season story arc. It makes a lot of sense and creates this novel like structure that fits exactly what has already been seen on the screen.

Last season, I started looking at The 100 through the lens of Dante’s Descent into Hell, and while I’m not an expert on that work, with a little googling, I could see how closely Bellamy’s journey, in particular and the whole season 3 paralleled The Descent into Hell. They went in to hell. 3.03 is called “Ye Who Enter Here,” which is what is written on the gate of hell (Abandon hope all ye who enter here!) They travelled through the various temptations and levels of hell (wrath, false counselors, etc). And they rose OUT of hell. The story structure of season three starts out innocent, enters hell, dives down deep, confronts demons, and then begins the slow struggle up OUT of hell, they come back together and are changed people. This is what happened in season 3. And yet, if you look at the arc of the whole show from season three… it’s ALSO following a similar structure on a larger level, with the end of s3 being the beginning of the climb out of hell. Which means the story arc of s3 might mirror the story arc of the whole show with s3 being the darkest point.

Then this hiatus I started examining The 100 through a shakespearean lens, mainly because people kept calling L a hero and I couldn’t see it, so I said, “Okay, if she IS a hero how could it fit?” And through my research and analysis I decided she WAS a hero within her own story, and her subplot had a heroic narrative arc, but it WASN’T that of the epic hero (clarke?) or everyman hero (bellamy?) or even antihero (murphy?) It was the arc of the TRAGIC HERO. Like King Lear or Macbeth or Hamlet. L was a strong, beloved hero who was brought down by her own tragic flaws and everything she worked for was destroyed. Her subplot was a tragedy.

So then I started wondering about tragedies, which this story sure seems like, right?

NO. In the classic sense, a tragedy sees the fall of the hero and destruction of everything. Like L’s story in Polis. Or MW. But Clarke and Bellamy and The 100… their story seems to be about falling, fighting, and failing, but in the end, they WIN. It might be a win that cuts both ways, but their aims are achieved, they become stronger, even when they have to fight to get there.

And then I started looking at the classical sense of A COMEDY.

“Comedy”, in its Elizabethan usage, had a very different meaning from modern comedy. A Shakespearean comedy is one that has a happy ending, usually involving marriages between the unmarried characters, and a tone and style that is more light-hearted than Shakespeare’s other plays.[14] (X)

While this is a drama and not light hearted, I started to wonder if the end point was not the same as Elizabethan comedy, which would explain the focus on Clarke and Bellamy being TOGETHER and ultimately saving the world and creating a new society that deserves to survive.

It turns out also

The theatrical genre of Greek comedy can be described as a dramatic performance which pits two groups or societies against each other in an amusing agon or conflict. Northrop Frye depicted these two opposing sides as a “Society of Youth” and a “Society of the Old”.[2] A revised view characterizes the essential agon of comedy as a struggle between a relatively powerless youth and the societal conventions that pose obstacles to his hopes. (X)

Which also fits what’s going on with The 100, without the lighthearted part. Old world vs new world.

And then I realized that Dante’s Descent Into Hell is only one part of a longer work which is entitled… wait for it….

THE DIVINE COMEDY.

In this epic poem, Dante’s alter ego, the Pilgrim, travels through Hell and Purgatory to reach Heaven. His journey is meant to impress upon readers the consequences of sin and the glories of Heaven. (X)

So what if the big twist in The 100 is that far from being essentially grimdark with everyone dying in pain and failing in their tasks, it’s actually a comedy which sees our heroes making it through hell, fighting off their demons, coming out stronger and with new powers, seeing the world in a new light, learning to be happy together, finding love and purpose and rebuilding society. Not a tragedy but a comedy.

Just like last season, when we were worried everyone in the COL would die, it actually turned out that Clarke and Bellamy succeeded and they saved everyone, all their people (’cept Pike. Whoops. Is Octavia’s story that of a hero or that of a villain? we don’t know yet.)

So this is my hopeful what if proposition. Not a prediction yet. What if everyone lives, they succeed and end up happy? Hopeful, dramatic comedy, not Hopeless dramatic tragedy. This theory is built upon story structure, and assuming that the writers have a long range plan for the story they are telling.

Hey the tag line confirms my theory. From The Ashes We Will Rise.

*Crossing my fingers*

#the 100 meta #the 100 #the 100 speculation #story structure #tragedy/comedy #dante's inferno #hope in the darkness #from the ashes we will rise

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