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thetrap · 4 years

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why i think deancas just might go canon

i’ve been wanting to write this for a bit, but i haven’t really had the time until now. basically this is just a super unorganized collection of thoughts i have on why i think that dean and castiel actually have a fairly decent shot of becoming canon (and by decent shot i mean like.....a solid 5% chance. and that’s being generous). this is based off of the show itself (obviously), quotes from andrew dabb, and other things.

1. andrew dabb is deancas positive

i made a post a while back that never made it out of the drafts, but it was basically a summation of all the good deancas shit dabb has given us as a writer. here are the bullet points:

- the hug/"i'm not leaving here without you!" moment in purgatory (8x02)

- "don't lose it over one man"

- "he's in love.....with humanity"

- cas/colette parallel ("dean. stop.") in 10x22

- just the fight scene from the prisoner in general like......wow

- sam/jess and dean/cas parallel in 12x23

- "we've lost everything......and now, you're gonna bring him back" + dean's just generally overwhelming grief in 13x01

- "and how is it that you lost dean? i thought the two of you were joined at the.....you know, everything"

and these are just the big moments.

also notable is the fact that an activist sent dabb (and some of the other producers of spn i think) a book about dean and cas and why the fans want it/why it would be a good thing for the show. a few years later, meghan fitzmartin (who wrote the most recent episode!) was hired as dabb’s assistant, went into his office and posted a tweet a with pictures of the book, saying something along the lines of “doing some reading for work!”

the fact that dabb actually kept a fanmade deancas book for years.....the fact that he’s consistently written episodes with really strong subtext for years.....the fact that the dean and castiel romantic tension has only picked up since he took over as showrunner (mixtape, lily sunder, cas’s death, dean’s grief arc, the entirety of season fifteen, etc.)......idk i just think it’s really interesting that there has been such a marked shift since he was put in charge.

2. the mixtape

i know this was a few seasons ago, but it’s still relevant because like. a mixtape is not platonic. this scene was not platonic. full-stop.

and it’s not even the act by itself; it’s also the dialogue!! “it was a gift. you keep those.” this is more than likely a direct callback to aragorn and arwen in lord of the rings (that’s the first thing i thought of, at least).

the fact that dabb let this slide, like......he knows what this looks like. berens and glynn, who wrote this episode, know what it looks like. they knew precisely how this would be perceived, and then wrote and aired the scene anyways.

and that’s not even getting into the camerawork. like what?? was this shot???

yeah so. definitely not platonic.

3. the trap

honestly i thought about just posting this part of this overlong essay thing, because to me, this is the episode where i went okay, so this might actually happen.

there are SO many things in this episode that made me go insane the first time i watched it (”i left, but you didn’t stop me”) but the thing that stuck out to me the most was dean’s reaction to castiel saying, “you don’t have to say it. i heard your prayer,” when dean tries to tell him something.

like?????? he does not look relieved!! nor does he look particularly happy!!

hell, if you go back and watch the video you can literally see him swallow his words down like....jensen ackles is the master of micro expressions and that shit is Not Accidental. this moment 100% gives the vibe that there is something that is not being said. the camera following dean as he gives cas a lingering look is really interesting too.

3. dabb’s comments about dean and cas in season 15

this part is actually sort of related to the point above, since a lot of dabb’s comments are in reference to “the trap.” here are some interesting ones that i want to point out:

But the Leviathan won’t be the focal point of the purgatory story. Rather, it’s about what Dean and Castiel are going through. “They’re not going to resolve the emotional stuff, but it allows them to redefine their friendship a little bit in light of what’s happened especially earlier this season,” Dabb says. (x)

the key thing here is that dabb said that, in 15x09, dean and cas are “not going to resolve the emotional stuff.”

now. i don’t know about you, but dean falling to his knees, praying to cas and weeping feels a lot like emotional resolution to me. like, sure, things will probably be awkward between them for a while, but surely this is the peak moment of their emotional vulnerability with each other, right? surely this is the moment where they’ve resolved the issue between them? like how the fuck does it get more intensely emotional than this??

yet dabb seems to be implying that it will, which leaves us with the million dollar question: what is left about dean and cas’ relationship to resolve?

keep in mind that as of 15x16, there hasn’t been much forward movement on that front; that is, we’ve had some cute moments between them, but in terms of serious conversation about their relationship, there’s been basically nothing. so we can assume that this development, whatever it is, will occur in 15x18, since dean and cas will be separated for most of 15x17, as cas will be off with sam.

aka the episode where cas will likely get yanked away by the empty. aka the episode with the teary (!!!) conversation we saw in the promo between dean and cas.

also notable from the above quote is dabb saying that dean and cas are redefining their friendship. like....redefining how? to what?? that wording is just really interesting to me.

another quote from dabb re “the trap”:

(x)

it forces them to “start that process.” indicating yet again that the prayer scene between dean and cas is not the moment where whatever is between them is resolved. yet, from where we are right now, dean and cas seem mostly fine. which means that whatever they have yet to work out doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with their fight.

lastly:

a really significant chunk of what happens to dean in 15x09 is him confronting his issues with cas. don’t get me wrong - there are other important things that happen in the episode - but the fact that an episode where so much time/emotional energy is given to dean and cas’ dynamic is considered a turning point for dean is very notable and, to me, speaks to the importance of their relationship for the rest of the season.

4. dean/cas and sam/eileen being set up as units

i’m of the opinion that sam and dean will (by choice) go their separate ways at the end of the show. i think this for a variety of reasons that i wrote about here, and to add onto this, i think that dean/cas and sam/eileen are, in a way, being set up as two units.

this theory comes from two points:

1. the fact that eileen got brought back at all

this isn’t to say that eileen isn’t an interesting character all on her own/outside of her romance with sam, but the fact that they brought her back and then proceeded to set her up in this romance feels really significant to me. what’s especially interesting is how, even after she leaves in 15x09, we get a continuation of their romance in 15x14. i don’t necessarily think that she’s sam’s endgame in the sense that the final episode will show sam going to her or whatever, but i do think that part of the reason she was brought back was so that sam would have someone who he loves/someone he could potentially build a life with after he and dean defeat chuck.

2. the way the two couples were portrayed in “the trap”

like....just watch the future scenes in the bunker. there’s very much a sense that these are two couples living together. and “ever since the mark made cas go crazy, ever since i had to bury him in a ma’lak box.” note the use of i, not we. and then dean/cas and sam/eileen are directly paralleled when dean tells sam he needs to give it up after eileen’s death, comparing it to how dean has given it up after having to bury cas in the ma’lak box.

5. dean does not do Well without cas

this is probably an understatement. there have been a couple of notable instances in this season where the viewer is given a glimpse of what happens to dean when cas dies/is in danger of death/is separated from dean (in case the whole ass widower arc in s13 wasn’t enough).

two of these are from “the trap”:

1. dean freaking out/crying/praying when he’s separated from cas in purgatory

2. dean giving up on life/hunting after burying cas in the ma’lak box in the future world

3. dean’s reaction to cas temporarily going to the empty in 15x13

the one i want to spend the most time on is number two, in large part because sam was witness to it and i think that this might get brought up in 15x17.

part of my spec for that episode is that cas will tell sam about his deal/sam will find out somehow, and in reaction sam might tell cas about how dean reacted to his death in s13 - a conversation that was notably absent from the show when cas finally returned in 13x05. i also think that he might mention no. 2 above, basically telling cas that if he dies, dean is done. that he won’t be able to handle it/move past it. the show has been telling us this over and over for a while now, and it’s only been emphasized more in season 15. i think that 15x17 is the episode where this will finally be verbally expressed.

to me, all of this emphasis on dean giving up when cas is gone isn’t for nothing. in my opinion, it’s being done very purposefully to set up an endgame where dean and cas are together in some sense of the word. and a lot of what i’ve said above is what makes me think it’ll be a Romantic together.

5. bobo berens’ three part deancas saga

so we all know that berens is pretty much spn’s foremost deancas warrior, and what i want to point out here is how this season has been utilizing him as a writer.

this season, berens has three solo episodes (he wrote “galaxy brain” with meredith glynn):

1. the rupture

2. the trap

3. despair (formerly known as “the truth”)

so far, these first two episodes have had major deancas moments. you could even label them as:

1. the rupture (the breakup)

2. the trap (the reconciliation)

3. depair (???)

keep in mind also that berens wrote 14x18, where the dean and cas sort of had a preliminary breakup. he’s been in charge of this arc for a while, and the fact that so much of his writing this season has been deancas focused.......i don’t know, i just think it’s significant in part because, while berens has always been deancas positive, he also writes plenty of episodes that aren’t focused on dean and cas. but now, in the final season, the dean and cas emotional arc has been handed to him, and it’s been the primary focus on his writing.

(sidenote: berens was promoted to executive producer for this final season)

to me, this is all leading to a big moment between dean and cas in 15x18 - and the fact that it was at one point called “the truth,” only to be switched back to despair - makes me think that there will be some sort of confession involved. my money is on cas being the one to say it (especially since this would line up with the leak), especially given the glimpse we saw of (what might be) this moment in the promo. which leads me to...

6. cas does not cry

i saved this for last because the promo where we see teary-eyed cas is actually what pulled me back into this shitshow.

cas does not cry. like. ever. he got a little teary in 15x15, when jack told him of his plan to sacrifice himself, but we have never - never - seen him shed actual tears. and in the promo, particularly that shot where cas says “you have fought for this whole world,” it 100% looks like cas is about to cry cry.

cas has seen his son die. he has seen dean die. he died himself, over and over and over. and we have never seen him cry.

yet for some reason, in this moment of vulnerability with dean, he’s crying. i find it highly unlikely that cas would cry because of his impending death, for a number of reasons (for one, he wouldn’t want to upset dean more than he has to). so, assuming he’s not crying because of his own death, then what is making cas so emotional that he is genuinely crying for the first time in the twelve seasons he has been on the show?

my guys.....i can only think of one thing.

#THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG OH MY GOD #i'm so sorry for this i just have SO many thoughts about this and had to get them all down #disclaimer: i still think it's highly unlikely we'll get confirmed romantic deancas #but i do think there's a chance #and this is why #deancas #destiel #s15 spoilers #spec

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glorious-blackout · 4 years

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Soooo @rock-n-roll-fantasy wanted me to write an essay on my self-indulgent theory that Muse’s ‘Simulation Theory’ and Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’ are set in the same universe, and my brain rather predictably used this as an opportunity to develop a novel-length crossover fic instead. I’m starting to doubt that the full idea will ever get written purely because life has a habit of getting in the way, but here’s a bit of an overlong teaser in place of your essay! 😉🥰

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The trek from Room 521 to the ballroom is a long, monotonous one. Not that that particularly matters; even if Mark didn’t know every corridor like the back of his hand, he no doubt would have been guided to his destination regardless, simply by following the growing ruckus of banal chatter overlying soft musical notes. His own band won’t be the ones playing tonight – thank Christ seeing as he barely has the energy to hold a mic for two hours let alone sing into it – but the prospect of spending the evening alone in his room had hardly been tempting. He could have arranged to meet one of the lads for a drink, he supposes, but he hadn’t wanted to impose. They all have lives beyond the hotel after all, whereas he remains tied to its walls like an obedient dog on a leash.

High-ceilinged corridors eventually lure him towards a set of heavy oak doors, the only veil remaining between him and a horde of guests who by now are likely enjoying their third glass of champagne. Muffled conversations become crystal clear for a moment as one guest stumbles onto the corridor looking considerably worse for wear, but the noise is quickly silenced by an exaggerated slam. The guest sways on his feet for a moment, narrowed eyes struggling to maintain focus on Mark’s face, before he huffs and takes the first step of what promises to be an arduous journey back to his room. No doubt he’ll have collapsed in a pool of his own vomit before he’s even halfway there, adding one more job to the cleaners’ already overflowing pile in the process. Mark sighs, already regretting his decision to be sociable, and forces himself over the threshold before he can change his mind.

The ballroom does ignite a certain pride within his chest, he must admit. The spacious hall - resting beneath a curved ceiling kept afloat by granite columns - is a stark contrast to the narrow claustrophobic corridors leading up to it, and the size is adequate enough that the space never feels too crowded. Waiters flit back and forth between packed circular tables on the fringes, offering blessed champagne or scotch from a well-stocked bar, and an elevated platform at the far-end of the hall proudly showcases the evening’s entertainment.

It would appear the choice of dance tonight is a simple waltz. Guests dressed to the nines in elegant frocks and sharp tuxedos glide effortlessly along the polished dancefloor; guided by lilting piano notes as they sway beneath the soft light of a glittering chandelier. As usual, Mark feels no particular inclination to join them. On occasion, he himself will be the one sat by the piano, enticing his guests to dance for him whenever the evening feels a little too stagnant, but it would appear that his influence is not needed tonight. Besides, the only thing enticing him for the moment is the bar.

Despite having to make his way through the masses in order to reach his destination, luck must be on his side for no-one takes the opportunity to disturb him. He must have timed his trip well enough that the drinks are already taking hold, to the point where the hotel owner himself has become an unnoteworthy presence. His short walk to the bar goes entirely without a hitch, so much so that it probably shouldn’t surprise him when he arrives to find that his luck has run dry.

There’s someone sitting in his usual spot. Logically he knows this isn’t an issue; there are plenty of free stools lined up against the horseshoe-shaped counter, but the sight gives him pause nonetheless. For as long as he can remember, that centerfold seat has been his and his alone, and the sight of someone new sitting there has unease coiling in his gut for reasons he cannot explain. If that were the strangest thing about this situation then he could have moved on and settled himself elsewhere without another thought, but what truly makes him gape is the appearance of the man who has seen fit to take his place.

In stark contrast to the stylish formalwear adorning the vast majority of guests, this man seems to have made it his mission to break every rule of fashion there is. The loud red jeans and shiny trainers would no doubt have been bad enough on their own, but in comparison to the gaudy nylon jacket and the lit neon sunglasses which remain fused to his face despite being indoors, the lower half of his body looks positively tame. Intricate circuitry is affixed to the front of the jacket, with wires snaking their way into a large pocket which no doubt houses a switch designed to make the jacket as loud as the sunglasses. Mark can’t help but wonder how this man hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention and has instead been left to cradle his glass of bourbon in relative peace. Perhaps this is the current fashion trend on Earth and someone has simply forgotten to give Mark that particular memo.

Shaking his head once and remembering his mother sternly telling him that staring is rude, Mark clears his throat and gestures to the free stool by his side when a pair of concealed eyes turn in his direction.

“Mind if I take this seat?” he asks, well aware that he of all people shouldn’t need to ask permission.

A knowing smile graces the man’s thin face and he nods graciously, removing his glasses to reveal surprisingly gentle blue eyes. He appears more normal up close than Mark anticipated, barring a pair of impressively sharp cheekbones and a hairstyle so haphazard he doubts an intense combing session would tame it.

“Be my guest,” the man offers in an accent which turns out to be English, to Mark’s not unpleasant surprise. Besides the lads, he can’t remember the last time he encountered someone from home. “Though I imagine that’s usually your line.”

A surprised laugh escapes Mark at the lame joke, causing the stranger to grin proudly before taking another generous sip of bourbon. Mark considers calling the waiter over – the impressive display of booze resting before him is enough to make his mouth water – but the man in question appears to be preoccupied with an uptight elderly couple nearby, and besides, his curiosity is already threatening to consume him. The booze can wait.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” the man interjects before Mark can ask the question weighing on his mind. The words escape like a bullet, so rapidly that the compliment could easily be dismissed as flippant, but the stranger’s smile seems sincere enough. “You’ve got one hell of a mind, Turner.”

There’s a gravity to his tone that Mark can’t quite comprehend, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

“How did you get here?” Mark asks, aiming for a conversational tone only to flinch when the words emerge as confrontational instead. In an attempt to save face, he adds, “I don’t remember greeting you at the station, is all.”

‘I would have remembered if I had’ goes unsaid, though the implication doesn’t appear to be lost on his new companion.

“Interdimensional portal,” he replies without missing a beat, bringing his glass to his lips once more as he gazes at Mark with mischief in his eyes and a challenge in his smirk.

The ensuing silence is broken almost immediately as Mark bursts out laughing again; an action which appears to serve as an invitation for the other man to join him. The high-pitched giggle is unexpected, but the sound of it is enough to melt some of Mark’s lingering unease.

“I doubt technology’s reached that stage yet,” Mark teases once he’s recovered his composure. “Not unless they’re keeping secrets from me back home.”

“I wouldn’t sound so sure if I were you,” the man retaliates, that same challenge resting on his lips and a single brow quirked upwards with mocking intent. “How long has it been since you visited Earth?”

The lightness in Mark’s chest vanishes for a moment and his brows knit together as he ponders the question. Strange. Now that he thinks about it, he honestly can’t recall how long it’s been.

When it becomes clear that no answer is forthcoming, his companion simply shrugs before facing ahead once more, demolishing the rest of his drink with a single gulp. It’s impossible to tell how much he’s had already. His current glass barely seems to have touched him, unless his strange approach to conversation is merely the product of drunken ramblings. He makes no move to relinquish his seat however, nor does he signal to the now-free waiter for a refill, and Mark finds himself facing straight ahead as he contemplates the choice lying before him.

On the one hand, this man is clearly strange. The unease which continues to coil in his gut is proof enough of that, and Mark imagines that walking away now would spare him a world a confusion. His eyelids feel heavy enough as it is without his mind being weighed down as well.

On the other hand, he honestly can’t remember the last time he had a conversation that was so... spontaneous. He’s grown accustomed to forced chats about hotel business and band rehearsals, to the point where he can’t remember the last time anyone made him laugh in pleasant surprise. Until tonight that is.

And honestly, what is his alternative? Mingling with the guests and sweeping up compliments about the taqueria, or the pool, or the perfect view of Earth offered by the casino’s transparent ceiling? Having to listen to rich businessmen divulge their recent purchases of eye-wateringly expensive yachts or starships, while wives half their age hang onto their arm and pretend to look interested?

It isn’t really a contest in the end.

Decision made, Mark gestures to the waiter, who approaches with what he suspects is a put-on smile. To the man’s credit, said smile doesn’t falter even when he casts a sideways glance towards his boss’s unconventional choice of companion.

“Sixteen-year-old Lagavulin please, Andrew,” Mark orders with an easy smile of his own. “And one for my friend here as well.”

Andrew hesitates for only a moment before preparing the drinks with practiced ease, applying a crystallised ball of ice to Mark’s glass once both whiskies are poured. At his side, the mysterious stranger eyes Mark with what appears to be surprise at this unprompted display of generosity, but the smile returns soon enough as he takes his drink in hand and thanks Andrew with all the grace of a perfect gent.

“You trying to get me drunk, Turner?” he teases, though if he’s opposed to the idea he doesn’t show it.

“Just hoping for some interesting conversation,” Mark responds with a wry smirk of his own. “Scotch usually helps with that, I’ve found.”

Without further ado, he takes a sip and closes his eyes in satisfaction as the golden liquid instantly works its magic. A pleasant burn trails down his throat until warmth settles in his belly, and any lingering stress drifts away like smoke on a breeze.

“You can call me Mark by the way,” he says, raising his glass as an invitation. “It’s about time we introduced ourselves, don’t you think?”

A flicker of unidentifiable emotion crosses over his companion’s face, just for a second, before he returns Mark’s easy smile and brings their glasses together with a soft clink.

“Matthew,” he says, which strikes Mark as such an ordinary name for one committed to looking so extraordinary. “But you can call me Matt. Everyone else does.”

Mark nods in acknowledgement before returning to his drink, and they wile away the following minutes in companiable silence. The band appear to have moved on from classical waltzes and are now playing a smooth jazz number, the seductive groove of the double-bass soothing Mark into closing his eyes and forgetting the hundreds of guests gathered nearby. The chatter has died down slightly since his arrival, but the odd clink of a glass or drunken laugh is enough to assure him that he’s not entirely alone. Not as alone as he would have been had he remained in his room with only the hotel blueprints and a virtual reality mask for company.

In a few more moments he may even have found himself forgetting Matt’s presence, but it isn’t long before his reverie is broken by a now-familiar voice.

“What do you know of ‘Simulation Theory’?” Matt asks flippantly, as though it’s the most ordinary question in the world. The fact that Mark can only stare dumbly for several seconds is likely a sign that his scotch is already beginning to take hold, but he eventually forces himself to give a resigned shrug.

“Not much,” he admits. The name doesn’t sound familiar in the slightest, though he’ll admit that he isn’t known for scouring scientific journals. “I suspect that’s about to change though.”

That statement seems to be invitation enough for Matt, who downs the rest of his drink without so much as a flinch before launching into what appears to be a well-practiced spiel.

Mark can only try to keep up between finishing one drink and ordering another, as Matt starts explaining the concept of computers advancing to the point where they can simulate the laws of physics, so much so that the future of interplanetary travel may end up being achieved via the means of simulated reality - unlimited by the demands of the fragile human body - rather than old-fashioned means such as starships or satellites as ancient sci-fi shows had predicted. The whole lecture is delivered in what must be Matt’s typical rapid-fire delivery; Mark would likely have been left with little breathing room even if he had been entirely sober, which he is becoming less and less so as the evening wears on. With his keen enthusiasm and eccentric hand movements, Mark reckons Matt would have made an excellent physics professor in another life if the concepts escaping his mind weren’t so utterly ridiculous.

“Which of course poses the question,” Matt concludes eventually, pausing to stop for breath. A pleasant buzz is coursing through Mark’s veins by this point, and he rests his head on one hand as he studies Matt with an amused smile. “If we conclude that it is feasibly possible for technology to exist which is capable of simulating reality so convincingly, who is to say that it hasn’t already happened? What if we’re all just cogs in a machine, believing our decisions are our own and that everything around us is real, when in actuality we’re being watched and studied and controlled? Like ants under a microscope?”

“Hmm,” Mark ponders the question as best he can, taking another sip despite knowing it won’t help. It strikes him that the whisky has already rendered him soft and sleepy, whereas Matt doesn’t appear to have been affected at all despite the fact that he’s clearly had more. As quick as his delivery is, Mark can’t even recall hearing a slur. “Like characters in a videogame or summat?”

“Something like that I suppose,” Matt concurs, though there’s a tension in his skinny frame that implies Mark has barely scratched the surface. “What do you reckon would happen if a videogame character realised they were trapped in a videogame? That their entire lives were a fiction and that someone else was in control?”

“I imagine they’d spiral into existential dread,” Mark concludes with a dismissive shrug, polishing off what must be his third glass and placing it face-down on the countertop. It would probably be best if he stops now, seeing as Matt appears to be in a philosophical mood. “Good thing they can’t think or feel anything then, isn’t it? They just do as they’re told.”

An amused smirk graces Matt’s face and there’s a glint in those blue eyes that implies he wants to add something, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut. For now at least. Mark uses this window of silence to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes before casting a glance around the ballroom. It’s still relatively busy. The band have given no indication that they’re approaching the end of their set, and so long as the drinks keep flowing, there will always be ample opportunity for dancing and conversation. He loses himself for a moment as he observes the movements of the guests gracing the dancefloor; everyone from beautiful newlyweds to elderly couples celebrating their golden anniversaries locked in intimate embraces, with eyes only for each other. Matt’s musings weave their way through his mind and he finds himself searching for flaws in the system; a hint that what he’s seeing isn’t all it appears to be. He scans the faces of the guests to see if he can find any duplication; eavesdrops on nearby conversations in search of generic, repetitive sentences. He feels the warm cotton of his suit and the cool condensation on his glass and the sticky sweat on the palm of his hand, only to conclude that it all must surely be real. He knows all-too-well what it’s like to wander lucidly through a dream, and this isn’t one.

Still, the possibility is fascinating. Ludicrous, but fascinating.

“Let’s say you’re right,” he starts, taking a moment to select his next words carefully. He doesn’t usually feel the need to be so cautious in conversation, but Matt’s ability to spout ridiculous theories with the utmost confidence has left him feeling like he’s playing catch-up. “And let’s say that we’re the ones trapped in this game, or simulation, or whatever you want to call it.”

Matt turns to him as though shocked that Mark’s actually giving his ramblings any consideration, and he can’t help but wonder how many times he’s been shot down in the past. He pauses, half-expecting an interruption, but Matt’s only response is a smile followed by an encouraging nod.

“What if there’s a reason behind the fiction?” he proposes, more confidently now. “What if we’ve been trapped in a game because reality is terrible.”

“And therein lies our conundrum!” Matt says, eyes lighting up with childlike glee as he leans back and slams his hand on the counter. Tending to a guest a few seats away, Andrew side-eyes him warily, perhaps wondering if he’ll be forced to escort another drunk from the premises soon, but Mark’s total lack of concern seems to reassure him. “Is it better to exist within a terrible reality or a beautiful lie?”

The hypothetical weight of the question stumps Mark for a moment. Any thoughts which had previously been running through his mind fragment like shattered glass, leaving only a warm fuzz in their place. He lets himself imagine what it would be like to have an all-powerful, all-seeing creature manipulate his thoughts - moulding them like clay - and despite the room’s pleasant warmth, he finds himself shivering. It’s not that he believes Matt’s theories – far from it – but pondering the question elicits the same uncertainty planted by movies like his beloved Blade Runner; makes him contemplate deep, existential ‘What-ifs’ until sleep eludes him and a shiver creeps up his spine.

When the power of speech finally returns to him, he finds the words spilling forth without having crossed his mind beforehand.

“I think we’re both a little too drunk for philosophical discussions, don’t you agree?” he says blankly, though upon hearing the words even he is left utterly unconvinced. He may already be able to anticipate the crushing headache that morning will bring, but he’s managed to remain somewhat lucid so far. Matt, damn him, doesn’t appear to have been affected by the alcohol at all. Nor does he seem willing to let Mark back down; instead he pointedly says nothing as his lips curl upwards in an unspoken challenge.

Mark sighs, before forcing himself to answer the question with one of his own.

“If the fiction is so convincing that you could go from birth to death without realising it is a fiction, does it really make a difference?”

“A fair point,” Matt concedes with a shrug, though Mark doesn’t miss the way his expression darkens. A twitch in his jaw implies that his words have struck a nerve, only he can’t possibly see why that would be the case. He expects Matt to elaborate further – to quash his argument with a clever retaliation – but he simply turns back towards the wall of booze and signals to Andrew to bring him another glass of scotch. The temptation to tell him that he’ll need to be carried back to his room on a stretcher if he carries on like this is momentarily overwhelming, but the words remain glued to Mark’s tongue like resin. His mouth feels as dry as sandpaper and the flurry of unease which had been temporarily dispelled returns with a burning vengeance. All he can do is watch as Matt gratefully accepts what must be his fifth glass and gulps half of it down his throat without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Something stirs in the back of Mark’s mind. A distant memory perhaps; a vague flicker of recognition which had lain buried until this moment. He can honestly swear he has never laid eyes on Matt before today, but it strikes him that their camaraderie has been a little too easy tonight. Almost as though he should know Matt from his previous life on Earth.

But he doesn’t. He knows that for a fact, and any treacherous doubts suggesting otherwise are swiftly cast aside with an urgency he can’t explain.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to polish off his glass, setting it down on the counter with a finality which suggests it’ll be his last of the night. Just as well, Mark thinks. He can feel the evening beginning to wind down already, and he can feel fatigue settling into his bones.

Before he can offer to foot the bill, his companion finally decides to pipe up again. Any trace of his earlier bravado appears to have abandoned him, leaving him crouched and visibly exhausted, his voice impossibly small.

“If nothing is real – if everything around us truly is a fiction - then it stands to reason that there’s no underlying purpose to our existence. Our lives are there to serve as meaningless entertainment for something lurking in the shadows and nothing more. So everything we do or say, everyone we love...none of it matters in the end. Not really.”

He looks directly at Mark then, his once gentle blue eyes burning with an intensity that makes him want to shrink back like a frightened child. A silly notion really. Of all the words to describe Matt, ‘threatening’ doesn’t immediately come to mind, but the discomfort lingers regardless. Matt must notice, for he averts his eyes to the floor almost immediately and offers a small, apologetic smile as recompense.

“I just don’t think I could live with that,” he concludes with a certainty that has Mark’s chest tightening. “No matter how beautiful the lie is.”

A beat passes. Then another. Mark becomes all-too aware of his heart pounding in his chest, trying to assure him that he’s okay; that he’s solid and real. It occurs to him that he has forgotten how to breathe, and the discomfort in his chest outweighs the soothing burn the scotch had planted there earlier.

Matt doesn’t say anything else. Instead he runs a hand through his wayward hair, before ultimately deciding that fidgeting with his discarded sunglasses would be a better use of his time. Against his better judgement, Mark allows the weight of his words to sink in and momentarily imagines an existence in which all of his actions are pre-determined, his thoughts carefully filtered. Where everyone he loves are simply figments of expertly-written code. Where any responsibilities he may have are ultimately unimportant.

A simpler existence perhaps, but a wholly purposeless one.

“I don’t think I’d want to live like that either,” he admits quietly, so much so that he’s amazed Matt hears him. He must do however, for the words force him to look at Mark again, his expression unreadable besides a hint of sadness in deep blue eyes.

There doesn’t appear to be anything more to say. Words escape him - even the simple courtesies which usually come so naturally - and yet he cannot bring himself to look away. Matt seems to be in the same predicament. For a moment it’s as though they’re both gazing into a supernova, unwilling to look away despite knowing full well that the sight will blind them.

For the first time all evening he finds himself missing his friends. His Matt would have told him to snap out of it by now and Jamie or Nick would have called him a twat for getting so worked up about meaningless theories, and while Mark may have retaliated with a pointed ‘fuck off’, he no doubt would have felt lighter in their presence.

In the end it’s Matt who breaks the spell first. His eyes are drawn from Mark’s face to something lurking in the background, and a palpable shift overcomes him as thin lips are pulled into a grim line. Beneath soft overhead lights, Matt visibly pales and his pupils dilate with what Mark can only presume is fear, and white fists clench so tightly around his glasses that it’s amazing they don’t shatter. Dread claws into Mark’s chest with no explanation, and before curiosity can swallow him whole, he turns his head to follow Matt’s eyeline.

It only takes a moment to locate what has grabbed his friend’s attention. The new arrivals have barely made an effort to blend in after all. Standing out among the throng of increasingly drunk guests, two men linger at the far end of the hall, eyes obscured by dark sunglasses and twin postures stiff and unyielding. Both are clad in leather jackets which are only slightly less conspicuous than Matt’s own, and once again a treacherous flicker of recognition ignites in Mark’s brain before sputtering into a puff of smoke. The taller man must be pushing six feet, his brown hair cropped short and a 5 o’clock shadow darkening his features as effectively as the scowl on his lips. The smaller man must be around Mark’s height and appears slightly less threatening for it, though from a distance he almost resembles Matt himself with the exception of his dirty-blond hair.

For a moment Mark wonders if the two men are members of his own security team, seeking out Matt on grounds of a misdemeanor which Mark has been blissfully unaware of all night. Matt doesn’t necessarily look surprised to see them after all, though their presence certainly disturbs him. That thought is cast aside quickly, however. Mark has made an effort to familiarise himself with every member of his workforce, and even if these two are last-minute recruits, their outfits don’t resemble any worn by the rest of his staff.

The not-so-concealed carry lurking on their belts is hardly a feature of his security team either.

Blood freezing as two hidden pairs of eyes settle on the bar and its occupants, Mark turns to Matt in a panic; mouth open with the intention of voicing a warning, or demanding an explanation, or both, but Matt is already one step ahead of him. Those awful neon sunglasses are back on his face, albeit he has the good sense not to activate them this time, and he throws some crumpled notes onto the counter before turning to Mark with what is no doubt supposed to be a reassuring smile. It doesn’t work of course, though he imagines Matt is well-aware of that.

As a gesture of goodwill, Matt places a firm hand on Mark’s shoulder and offers what sounds like a very final farewell.

“It was good to see you again, Alex.”

And then he’s off, wandering past the quickly emptying dining tables and mixing with the assorted bodies on the dancefloor. Fat lot of good it does; he has about as much chance of blending in here as a giraffe does hiding among a gang of meerkats. Casting a glance towards the mysterious arrivals, Mark spots them making their way towards the dancefloor, the only indication of urgency being the grim determination on their faces. They don’t seem to have any interest in him for the moment, but that prospect brings him little in the way of relief. Instead he simply feels nausea crawling up his throat, and as Matt threatens to escape his eyeline, a new madness takes hold and compels him to follow.

Keeping Matt in his sights is more difficult than he’d hoped it would be. As much as he stands out among the crowd of dancers, once Mark finds himself trapped within that very crowd, his ability to focus on what’s directly ahead of him falters. The band has gone and a DJ has taken their place, enticing drunk youths to stumble to and fro under the guise of dancing, and Mark finds himself being roughly grabbed more than once by revelers inviting him to join in. One man pointedly tells him to “fuck off” when he manages to free his arm from his tight grip, before swanning off to harass some other poor sod, but Mark forces himself to recover quickly and carries on with his misguided pursuit. Later it will occur to him that he is not usually in the habit of hiring DJs, nor is the ballroom usually so crowded at this late hour as the casino tends to attract the night-owls, but for now all he can focus on is Matt’s retreating back sneaking onto one of the many corridors adjoining the hall.

Mark follows him seconds later, having escaped the horde with his limbs intact; not daring to look back to check if their assailants have located them. It occurs to him that as hotel owner, he could abuse his status and stand in their way in order to buy time, but he’s not sure he trusts them to resist putting a bullet in his head for insubordination. He may not have the faintest idea of what’s going on, but it feels so much bigger than him somehow. Like he’s been handed solid proof that everything he’s achieved – the hotel, his band, his reputation – is meaningless in the grand scale of the universe.

He stumbles onto the corridor just in time to spot Matt turning right at the far end, and he follows as quickly as he dares. The next turn is a left, then another left, then a right... an endless maze of blinding white walls and hotel room doors, flanked by sprouting monstrosities emerging from intricately painted plant-pots. After a while it seems like Matt has deliberately chosen this route to tease him, and he begins to wonder if this entire evening has been a devilish ploy, but the thought has barely had a chance to take hold when he finally reaches the end of the line.

There is no turning point at the end of this corridor. Only an unassuming wooden door leading into what appears to be a store cupboard. There aren’t even any hotel rooms remaining in this section; instead the route ahead is lined with marble columns sporting busts with expressionless faces.

Mark only manages one step forward before freezing, as icy fingers of dread crawl up his spine and clutch his heart in a fierce grip.

No being in the universe knows this hotel better than he does. He knows every room, every corridor, every little nook and cranny as surely as he knows his own name. As well he should; he designed every inch of the place.

And yet, he can say with absolute certainty that he has never laid eyes on this corridor before. Not even in a passing dream.

Before he can blame the obvious hallucination on the scotch, or even glance back in search of Matt’s pursuers, the silence is shattered by a blinding red light emanating from the cupboard door, illuminating the corridor in time with a sharp, mechanical whine. Mark raises a hand to his eyes as the light pulses in time with his heartbeat - giving untouched walls the appearance of being drenched in blood - and the accompanying noise slams against his eardrums with unrelenting ferocity. Against his better judgement, he presses onward, cowering as the assault on his senses intensifies with every step. No doubt he will be left with nothing but regret as a result of this choice, but he fears the lack of answers will drive him mad if he doesn’t see what lies beyond that door.

Besides, Matt must be in there. There’s nowhere else he could have gone, and Mark has little desire to leave him for dead.

The pulsating doesn’t stop until he reaches the door. Body trembling in the quiet aftermath, he takes a moment to recover as the light’s echo persists with every blink of his eyes and a sharp ringing assaults his ears. His breathing sounds painfully uneven in spite of his efforts to remain calm, and he can feel his heart hammering away in an attempt to break free from his chest. He finds himself wishing he could explain away these last ten minutes, but his mind feels numb with uncertainty and the alcohol certainly isn’t helping. Has it even been ten minutes since he’d been sitting at the bar? It simultaneously feels like it’s been mere seconds and several hours since he was enjoying his evening without a care in the world.

The cupboard door remains unopened, the handle a seductive enchantress promising answers he isn’t sure he wants. This new silence doesn’t bode well, and his lack of familiarity with this section of the hotel only increases his chances of running into danger on the way back. There is no doubt in his mind that he’s damned regardless of what he does however; he may as well sate his curiosity in the meantime.

A cool trickle of sweat slides down his cheek as a trembling hand curls around the door handle, and he pulls sharply before sanity can take hold, expecting resistance but receiving none.

It seems he will have to settle for not receiving answers either.

The cupboard is empty.

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

The details of how he stumbled back to Room 521 and wound up sprawled on his bed are a murky blur. Even as his drunken haze makes way for a pounding headache, he can only recall glimpses of dragging his feet back the way he came; wandering through an almost deserted ballroom followed by similarly empty corridors, before eventually collapsing into bed with a crushing exhaustion. Despite his fears, he never did end up encountering those two assailants on his way back, nor did he glean any further clues as to Matt’s whereabouts. All three men had vanished into the night as mysteriously as they’d appeared, and a numb regret settling over his mind is enough to assure him that he will never see Matt again.

That is, if he even existed in the first place. As the night wears on, he begins to feel more inclined to put the evening’s events down to the drunken hallucinations of a lonely mind. Perhaps if he calls Jamie in the morning, he can put his mind at ease and call him a silly twat, erasing the whole sorry ordeal in the space of one conversation. The urge to pick up the phone now is almost too tempting to resist, but he stays put for now. There’s no need to bother his friend with the drunken ramblings of a madman. Not at this hour anyway.

Reassurance can wait. For now, he desperately needs sleep which is stubbornly unforthcoming.

He misses the presence of moonlight. That notion is so strange that a weak rebellious smile tugs at his lips, before the bitter sting of tears replaces it. Homesickness is unlike him – he has never been inclined to hop on a rocket and return home no matter how easy it would be – but right now his yearning for Earth feels suffocating. He misses the moon’s comforting presence in the sky and the wonder it had elicited from him as a child. He misses it hanging overhead as he wandered along silent streets with friends and lovers, singing and kissing and stumbling drunkenly as joyous laughter broke through the relative peace. He misses waking up with his heart in his throat and a new lyric in his head, only to be soothed instantly by luminous streaks of light.

All he has here is thick, empty darkness which seems intent on crushing him down to dust.

Those memories of home seem so distant now. Unreachable; locked away in a chest sporting a rusted padlock and buried deep beneath the realm of consciousness. Perhaps it would be best if they remained buried. Even if Mark were capable of digging them up and freeing them from their prison, the sheer weight of the memories within would surely drown him in an instant.

Mark shakes his head and closes his eyes before bitter tears can trail down his cheeks. It would be best not to dwell on such things. His nights are sleepless enough as it is.

It only occurs to him later, as unblinking eyes linger on the ceiling above, that Matt had casually referred to him as ‘Alex’ and that the thought of questioning it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

#writing #long post #simulation theory #tranquility base hotel and casino #muse #arctic monkeys #i am extremely rusty but honestly it's been nice to write something just for myself again #well...myself and @rock-n-roll-fantasy :P #my fic

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fullregalia · 3 years

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20/20.

This year, in hindsight, was a real write-off. I had grand plans for it, and while I ushered it in in a very low-key manner since I was recovering from the flu, I’d expected things to look up. Well, you know what they say about plans (RIP, my trip to Europe). I got very, very sick in early February, and I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t COVID. Since March, the days have been a carousel of monotony: coffee, run, work, cook, yoga, existential spiral, sleep. My Own Private Year of Rest and Relaxation, if you will. Of course, life has a way of breaking through regardless; I attended protests, completed my thesis, graduated from grad school, took a couple of road trips upstate, and celebrated the accomplishments and birthdays of friends and family from a safe social distance. It was all a bit of a blur, and not ideal circumstances to re-enter the real world, or whatever this COVID-present is.

Throughout it all, in lieu of happy hours, coffee dates, and panel discussions, I’ve turned even more to culture and cuisine to fill the the negative space on my calendar where my social life once resided. However, since a global pandemic ought not to disrupt every tradition, here’s my year-end round up of what made this terrible one slightly more tolerable.

After an ascetic fall semester abstaining from TV in 2019 (save for my beloved Succession), I allowed myself to watch more as the year wore on, and especially after graduation. I caught up on some cultural blind spots by finally getting around to The Sopranos, Ramy, Search Party, and Girlfriends. I wasn’t alone in bingeing Sopranos, it absolutely lived up to the hype and then some; this Jersey Girl can’t get enough gabagool-adjacent content, pizzeria culture is my culture!

Speaking of my culture, there was also a disproportionate amount of UK and European shows in my queue. Nothing like being in social isolation and watching the horny Irish teens in Normal People brood. I’m partial to it because I share a surname with the showrunner, so I have to embrace blind loyalty even though there was, in my opinion, a Marianne problem in the casting. Speaking of charming Irish characters with limited emotional vocabularies, I belatedly discovered This Way Up a 2019 show from Aisling Bea and Sharon Horgan. And while Connell and Marianne are actually exceptional students, I found the real normal people on GBBO to bring me a bit more joy. Baking was abundantly therapeutic for me this year, and watching charming people drink loads of tea and fret over soggy bottoms was a comfort. I also discovered the Great Pottery Throw Down, and as a lifelong ceramics enthusiast, I cannot recommend it highly enough if you care about things like slips, coils, and glazing techniques. GPTD embraces wabi sabi in a way that GBBO eschews flaws in favor of perfection, and in a time of uncertainty, the former reminded me why I miss getting my hands in the mud as a coping mechanism (hence all the baking). Speaking of coping mechanisms, like everybody else with two eyes and an HBO password, I loved Michaela Cole’s I May Destroy You; though we’ve all had enough distress this year for a lifetime, watching Cole’s Arabella process her assault and search for meaning, justice, and closure was a compelling portrait of grief and purpose in the aftermath of trauma. Arabella’s creative and patient friends Kwame and Terry steal the show throughout, as they deal with their own setbacks and emotional turmoil. Where I May Destroy You provides catharsis, Ted Lasso presents British eccentricity in all its stereotypical glory. At first I was skeptical of the show’s hype on Twitter, but once I gave in it charmed me, if only for Roy Kent’s emotional trajectory and extolling the restorative powers of shortbread. For a more accurate depiction of life in London, Steve McQueen’s series Small Axe provides a visually lush and politically clear-eyed depiction of the lives of British West Indians in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Lastly, how could I get through a recap of my year in tv if I don’t mention The Crown. Normal People may have needed an intimacy coordinator, but the number of Barbours at Balmoral was the real phonographic content for me.

Turning my attention across the Channel, after the trainwreck that was Emily in Paris, I started watching a proper French show, Call My Agent! It’s truly delightful, and unlike the binge-worthy format of "ambient shows” I have been really relishing taking an hour each week to watch CMA, subtitles, cigarettes, and all.

Honorable mention: The Last Dance for its in-depth look at many notable former Chicago residents; High Fidelity for reminding me of the years in college when my brother and I would drive around listening to Beta Band; and Big Mouth.

Music

My Spotify wrapped this year was a bit odd. I don‘t think “Chromatica II into 911″ is technically a song, so it revealed other things about my listening habits this year, which turned out to remain very much stuck in the last, sonically. I listened to a lot more podcasts than new music this year, but there were some records that found their way into heavy rotation. While I listened to a lot of classics both old and new to write my thesis (Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Prokofiev, and Bach) the soundtrack to my coursework, runs, walks, and editing was more contemporary. Standouts include:

Saint Cloud by Waxahatchee, which makes me feel like I’m breathing fresh air even when I’m stuck inside all day

La Bella Vita by Niia, which was there for me when I walked past my ex on 7th avenue (twice!) and he pretended that I didn’t exist

Fetch the Bolt Cutters by THEE Fiona Apple, because Fiona, our social distancing queen, has always been my Talmud, her songs shimmering, evolving, and living with me every year

Shore by Fleet Foxes, for the long drive to the Catskills

Women in Music, Pt. III by HAIM, because these days, these days...

Musicians have been reckoning with tumult this year as much as the rest of us, and the industry has dealt with loss on all fronts. I’d be remiss not to talk about how the passing of John Prine brought his music into my life, and McCoy Tyner, who has been a companion through good and bad over the years.

Honorable mention to: græ by Moses Sumney; The Main Thing by Real Estate; on the tender spot of every calloused moment by Ambrose Akinmusire; Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers; folklore by you know who; and songs by Adrianne Lenker.

Reading

What would this overlong blob be without a list of the best things I read this year? While I left publishing temporarily, books, the news, and newsletters still took up a majority of my attention (duh and/or doomscrolling by any other name). I can’t be comprehensive, and frankly, there are already great roundups of the best longform this year out there, so this is mostly books and praising random writers.

Last year I wrote about peak newsletter. Apparently, my prediction was a bit premature as this year saw an even bigger Substack Boom. But two new newsletters in particular have delighted me: Aminatou Sow’s Crème de la Crème and Hunter Harris’ Hung Up (her ”this one line” series is true force of chaotic good on Blue Ivy’s internet). Relatedly, Sow and Ann Friedman’s Big Friendship was gifted to me by a dear friend and another bff and I are going to read it in tandem next week.

On the “Barack Obama published a 700+ page memoir, crippling the printing industry’s supply chains” front, grad school severely hamstrung my ability to read for pleasure, but I managed to get through almost 30 books this year, some old (Master and Margarita), most new-ish (Say Nothing, Nickel Boys). Four 2020 books in particular enthralled me:

Uncanny Valley: Anna Wiener’s memoir has been buzzed about since n+1 published her essay of the same name in 2016. Her ability to see, clear-eyed, the industry for both its foibles and allure captured that era when the excess and solipsism of the Valley seemed more of a cultural quirk than the harbinger of societal schism.

Transcendent Kingdom: Yaa Gyasi’s novel about faith, family, loss, and--naturally--grad school was deeply empathetic, relatable, and moving. I think this was my favorite book of the year. Following the life of a Ghanaian family that settles in Alabama, it captured the kind of emotional ennui that comes from having one foot in the belief of childhood and one foot in the bewilderment that comes from losing faith in the aftermath of tragedy.

Vanishing Half: Similarly to Transcendent Kingdom, Brit Bennett’s novel about siblings who are separated; it’s also about the ways that colorism can be internalized and the ways chosen family can (and cannot) replace your real kin. It was a compassionate story that captured the pain of abuse and abandonment in two pages in a way that Hanya Yanagihara couldn’t do in 720.

Dessert Person: Ok, so this is a cookbook, but it’s a good read, and the recipes are approachable and delicious. After all the BA Test Kitchen chaos this summer, it’s nice we didn’t have to cancel Claire. Make the thrice baked rye cookies!!!! You will thank me later.

Honorable mention goes to: Leave The World Behind for hitting the Severance/Station Eleven dystopian apocalypse novel sweet spot; Exciting Times for reminding me why I liked Sally Rooney; and Summer by Ali Smith, which wasn’t the strongest of the seasonal quartet, but was a series I enjoyed for two years.

Podcasts

I’m saving my most enthusiastic section for last: ever since 2018, I’ve been listening to an embarrassing amount of podcasts. Moving into a studio apartment will do that to you, as will grad school, add a pandemic to that equation and there’s a lot of time to fill with what has sort of become white noise to me (or, in one case, nice white parents noise). In addition to the shows that I’ve written about before (Still Processing, Popcast, Who? Weekly, and Why is This Happening?), these are the shows I started listening to this year that fueled my parasocial fire:

You’re Wrong About: If you like history, hate patriarchy, and are a millennial, you’ll love Sarah Marshall and Michael Hobbes’ deep dives into the most notable stories of the past few decades (think Enron and Princess Diana) and also some other cultural flashpoints that briefly but memorably shaped the national discourse (think Terri Schiavo, Elian González, and the Duke Lacrosse rape case).

Home Cooking: This mini series started (and ended) during the pandemic. As someone who stress baked her way through the past nine months, Samin Nosrat and Hrishikesh Hirway’s show is filled with warmth, banter, and useful advice. Home Cooking has been a reassuring companion in the kitchen, and even though it will be a time capsule once we’re all vaccinated and close talking again, it’s still worth a listen for tips and inspiration while we’re hunkered down for the time being.

How Long Gone: I don’t really know how to explain this other than saying that media twitter broke my brain and enjoying Chris Black and Jason Stewart’s ridiculous banter is the price I pay for it.

Blank Check: Blank Check is like the GBBO of podcasts--Griffin Newman and David Sims’ enthusiasm for and encyclopedic knowledge of film, combined with their hilarious guests and inevitable cultural tangents is always a welcome distraction. Exploring a different film from a director’s oeuvre each week over the course of months, the podcast delves into careers and creative decisions with the passion of completists who want to honor the filmmaking process even when the finished products end up falling short. The Nancy Meyers and Norah Ephron series were favorites because I’d seen most of the movies, but I also have been enjoying the Robert Zemeckis episodes they’re doing right now. The possibility of Soderbergh comes up often (The Big Picture just did a nice episode about/with him), and I’d love to hear them talk about his movies or Spike Lee (or, obviously, Martin Scorsese).

Odds & Ends

If you’re still reading this, you’re a real one, so let’s get into the fun stuff. This was a horrible way to start a new decade, but at least we ended our long national nightmare. We got an excellent dumb twitter meme. I obviously made banana bread, got into home made nut butters, and baked an obscene amount of granola as I try to manifest a future where I own a Subaru Outback. Amanda Mull answered every question I had about Why [Insert Quarantine Trend] Happens. My brother started an organization that is working to eliminate food insecurity in LA. Discovering the Down Dog app allowed me to stay moderately sane, despite busting both of my knees in separate stupid falls on the criminally messed up sidewalks and streets of Philadelphia. I can’t stop burning these candles. Jim Carrey confused us all. We have a Jewish Second Gentleman! Grub Street Diets continued to spark joy. Dolly Parton remains America’s Sweetheart (and possible vaccine savior). And, last, but certainly not least: no one still knows how to pronounce X Æ A-12 Boucher-Musk.

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overthinkinglotr · 5 years

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Part of me wants to start watching Return of the King, but another part of me wants to write an overlong essay on why the “Aragorn falls off a cliff and has a near-death experience subplot” from the Two Towers is actually IMPORTANT and THEMATICALLY RELEVANT in the film’s version of the story

#lolllllllllllllll #lotr #I know this a plotline a lot of book-fans hate #but #I love this plotline because I love CHEESE #looK!!#This plotline ties in the movie's theme of Memory #Aragorn was trying to forget Arwen and sever his connection to her #and then he ended up in a position where #the very connection to Arwen that he was trying to sever #ended up being what saved him!!!!#the moral is that even painful memories are valuable!!!!!#Which is a running theme throughout the Two Towers as a film!!!!!!#It's also important for film!Aragorn's character development #bc he's such a different character from book!Aragorn #but anyway idk if I'm coherent anymore

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realtalk-princeton · 4 years

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@Sulpicia do you have any advice on how to achieve such a high gpa in the humanities, when essay grades can sometimes seem subjective and different professors have different preferences? for ex, do you recommend using office hours in a certain way?

Response from Sulpicia:

I think that one thing to keep in mind is that I’m in a humanities major where empirical exams often determine 70-80% of your grade in a class; while they’re not usually curved, the language exams I took had a pretty similar format between classes, and so with every class you’re more prepared to engage with the material in that way. I personally think the best thing you can do to do well in a humanities class is to do the work; coming into class having prepared and done the readings will mean you have things to say, which translates into a better class discussion; this then will inevitably inspire thinking about what to write about for papers, and will also give you a better idea of how your instructor responds to your thinking. I’m not pretending that I showed up to class prepared 100% of the time, but I think sometimes people take humanities classes here and don’t take them seriously and then struggle at the end because they weren’t really trying to understand things on a week-to-week level.

In terms of writing papers, I generally tried to be in contact with instructors as much as possible throughout the process. Going to office hours with an idea (or, better yet, an outline) is really helpful, since you can get feedback before you spend a ton of time writing something that is founded on a mistaken assumption (which was something I did a LOT in my thesis process) or following a line of argument that might not be as strong as you initially think/hope. I often tried to come up with paper topics early on and even when (as was inevitably the case) I didn’t write anything, I knew I a) had the green light from a professor and b) was passively thinking about the topic for a long time. I also tried to write about things that made me excited, since the best papers are the ones you actually care about.

I actually have not found that professors have hugely different expectations for writing, because at the undergraduate level, good academic writing is good academic writing. I’m not the best essay writer in the world, but here are some tips I have for essay writing that I’ve learned over the past few years:

- Structure is so important, and is something a lot of essays miss. You should have a clear thesis statement of 1-2 sentences for a term paper, and this should be clearly positioned at the end of your introduction. For a shorter paper (5-10 pages) this should be at the end of the first page or top of the second page, while for longer papers, a JP, or a thesis chapter, they can be a little bit further in. Overlong introductions are my weakness as a writer, but a good intro basically just needs to provide the context you need to set up your thesis statement. I would stay away from the “three-pronged” thesis you learned in high school, but your thesis should correspond with the structure of your paper by presenting your claims in the order you will address them.

- Structure is important in your main body too! Write an outline before you begin your essay that briefly sketches out the progression of your argument and what evidence you will use to prove each part of it. Use transition words to link together ideas, and make sure to regularly tie back all of your claims to the main idea of your paper. Don’t write anything that does not support your thesis or provide a counterargument that you can then mitigate or disprove. Always let your reader know where they are in your argument, and don’t be afraid to refer back to earlier parts of the paper.

- Every sentence should matter. When you’re presenting a piece of evidence or analysis, think about its relationship to the one previous. Is that relationship meaningful? If not, the sentence shouldn’t be there (or should be placed elsewhere in your paper). The ideal is that every piece of your paper will follow naturally from what immediately precedes it, guiding the reader on a nice walk through your argument.

- In the humanities, close engagement with primary sources is key. Yes, you need to use secondary scholarship. However, engagement with the “scholarly conversation” should be second to your unique contribution, which is your close reading of the text/images at hand. This was something I struggled with in my thesis, since I felt so pressured to read all the scholarship and lost my close focus on primary sources. The absolute first thing you should do when you write a humanities paper is sit down with the sources you’re analyzing and think about them. What questions do they raise for you? Why are they confusing or contradictory? How does this source connect what you discussed in lecture, precept, or seminar? What can one source say about another? If you can, annotate the source on a piece of paper or take notes alongside it.

From there, you’ll start to find your unique insights which will form the backbone of the paper. Then, if this is a research paper and not just a close reading, look at secondary sources. If you have your own opinions about a primary text, however naive, you’ll feel more confident looking at *the discourse*. Sometimes, this will answer questions you had about the text, and so you don’t need to do that work in your paper. Other times, it will give you more interpretive tools to understand a text (e.g. you might find that X feature of the writing is typical of a certain genre, and you can think about the implications of that on your text). Sometimes, it’ll show you that the scholarly consensus is, in your opinions, totally wrong; for example, one chapter of my thesis was inspired by the fact that I visual source I thought was straightforward and was going to use in another chapter had in fact been pretty clearly misread by scholars, so my new project became proving why my identification was correct. However, any engagement with scholarship should only work to support your argument; unless you’re doing a lit review or writing about scholarly history (in which case the scholarship is your primary source), you don’t just want to slap different people’s opinions next to each other.

- Use lots of evidence and use lots of analysis. Graders are not mind readers, even if they are familiar with the material you’re studying. Good essays will present a lot of evidence; one thing I find helpful is breaking up longer quotes into shorter sections and treating them separately. Every piece of evidence should also be given analysis about why a) it is proving whatever point you’re making in the paragraph and b) how this connects to your larger argument. Part (b) might be implicit, but many essays could be stronger by making clear, distinctive points. Obviously not every piece of evidence merits a lot of analysis, and you can feel free to draw together several quotes to make one larger point.

- Speaking of, make specific claims. This refers both to the evidence that you use and how you use it. It’s totally okay to make general statements about a work, or an author, or an artistic movement; you couldn’t write an essay without doing that. However, those broad claims need to (at least in part) be grounded in some form of evidence; this can come from a secondary source or from an illustrative quote from a primary source. Inexperienced essay writers will be too vague and general--while there are dangers in getting to hyper-specific, I think it’s important that if you make a claim in your paper, you point to the specific thing that made you think that way (this is also a good way to avoid misconceptions/bad assumptions in your argument). When you’re using evidence, you should also try to say something as specific as possible about it, rather than just continuing to string up evidence and restating your thesis. Your thesis statement is just a summary of your ideas; your reasoning should be more nuanced and complex than that one concept. The more specific you are the more original you are, which helps you make points.

- Revise, revise, revise! When I did HUM, I would write up to five drafts of each paper. As a senior, I’ve gotten a lot lazier about this, but part of the reason I could do that was because I had learned a lot from revising previous papers and knew what mistakes to avoid. I think that papers grow the most between a first draft and a second draft. My favorite way to revise (and this is what I did with my thesis, JPs, and many papers I’ve written at Princeton) is to take a draft, print it out (with professor comments, if applicable), and then go through and retype the whole thing into a blank document. Optionally you can mark it up yourself as well, which is probably for the best. I like this because it means you have to read every word of your paper and also don’t feel bound by its existing structure; you can move paragraphs or shuffle things around more easily. I also always find myself adding more things or rephrasing analysis, which improves the paper. You’ll never come up with every idea in a first draft, so it’s good to revisit the paper as much as you can.

- Ask other people to read your work. We all have bad writing habits, from overuse of certain words to repetitive syntax to skipping steps in our logic. These things are not always obvious to us, but are very obvious to other readers. If you can, ask a friend (or writing center tutor, or instructor) to read your paper and help you identify these “bad habits” so you’re more conscious of them in future drafts. They can also often help you see where you skipped a step in your structure or the logic of your argument, or where your treatment of evidence doesn’t fully make sense. This is not always an option, of course, but especially early on, having people who will frankly tell you what’s not working will be helpful to your development as a writer.

- Learn from your mistakes. Criticism, even of the kindest, gentlest, most constructive kind, is hard to hear. To be honest, I would sometimes put off writing my thesis for hours because I was so embarrassed that my advisor had seen a stupid mistake I’d made in my writing (which is entirely irrational, yes, I get it). However, it is very important not only to bask in the positive comments on your paper, but to look at any more constructive ones to see what you can do better next time. Every paper teaches you how to write the next one better. Keep old papers and use them as teaching tools; you might even find it helpful to pin a list of things you know you need to remember when writing next to your desk or on your computer desktop. Professors offer comments because they want you to do better and understand more, not because they want to tear you down (unless they’re really mean).

Anyway this was kind of long-winded, but hopefully at least a little helpful as Dean’s Date approaches (the one lesson I never learn is how to stop procrastinating). I don’t know if there’s a secret to having a good GPA. I don’t consider myself to be brilliant or industrious at all, really; I think I’ve been lucky, taken classes that suited my academic strengths, come into them prepared, and really spent time understanding what exams and papers are trying to assess and then crafting my responses accordingly.

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spiderdreamer-blog · 5 years

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Why I Wish I Liked The Dragon Prince More Than I Did: An Overlong Metatextual Essay

New York Comic-Con is next week, and with it comes another panel on The Dragon Prince, the Netflix original animated series shepherded by WonderStorm, a company headed up by former Avatar: The Last Airbender head writer Aaron Ehasz, other Avatar veterans like Giancarlo Volpe, and video game voices such as Uncharted 3 director Justin Richmond. The series has racked up two seasons and a robust fanbase in the course of a little over a year, with a series of Scholastic books and a game on the way, as well as widespread fan support for what Ehasz claims to be a plan for seven full seasons (Netflix renews it seasonally rather than giving it the benefit of large series orders that bigger companies can sometimes employ for kid’s shows). I’m quite fond of it myself, as noted in previous posts: the world and aesthetic is beautiful (if a little choppy at times given the series’ cel-shaded CGI approach), the story and world has a lot of grand, epic effort put into it, and it has an excellent voice cast with other Avatar notables like Jack DeSena, Erik Todd Dellums, and a slew of Canadian mainstays who don’t usually get to tackle material this weighty (Jason Simpson is particularly excellent as Viren).

It’s all very well-done and in Avatar’s spirit....and yet. I wonder if it might almost be too much so. I wish I liked it more than I did in many ways, and after revisiting several of its forebears recently (respectively, Avatar itself, The Legend of Korra, and Voltron Legendary Defender, which is also a spiritual successor in many ways), I might have a good idea as to why. As such, I’m going to go through an overview of what I feel each series does in terms of telling its story, and then bring it back ‘round to Prince. I hope the results are entertaining.

First, Avatar: The Last Airbender. Eleven years after its finale, it remains a hallmark of American TV animation and is arguably still going strong as a franchise, with new comics and novels based on it being regularly published, and even a live action retelling for Netflix on the way (given the last time they tried “live action Avatar”, it sucked mightily, and yet somehow DIDN’T kill the franchise in its crib, I’m more optimistic about this than you might think). It’s a excellent series, incredibly close to my heart, though it’s far from perfect. There are a number of dead spots, episodes that don’t work as well dramatically even when they can provide great action or character work, and part of the reason why is its structure. Avatar is, in many ways, a travelogue show with certain destinations to hit for each new character and story point in each book, but the stories are still episodic much of the time, with many characters and locations showing up that we never revisit. This isn’t always the case, mind; several seeming one-shot characters such as Suki or Jet became fan favorites, and this tendency isn’t necessarily a bad thing even if we don’t see a certain person ever again. It broadens the world and makes it seem like a real place: everyone, no matter how “small” or “unimportant”, has their own story that is worthy of interest and humanity.

The double-edged sword here, however, is that often Avatar can opt for a more simplistic, pared-down portrayal of these places and people that makes them feel like fables (this is a problem that Thundercats’ 2011 reboot inherited and never really recovered from). Sometimes, this works, as in episodes like The Cave of Two Lovers with the hilarious hippies, or Zuko Alone and its heartbreaking portrayal of just how war hits those who are most vulnerable. Other times....well, you get The Great Divide and both sides of a conflict going BEHOLD, I AM MADE OF EXTRA-FLAMMABLE STRAW to a truly unpleasant degree in a conflict so flimsy Aang resolves it with a bald-faced lie (which IS admittedly hilarious). Still, the series finds its balance (ahem) eventually, even with the occasional sour note still being played (The Painted Lady in particular stands out as a weak point of the final season in attempting to come off like Miyazaki and landing more in Captain Planet territory). Additionally, some of its villains can feel a little more broad and typical of the genre: there’s not much depth to the likes of Zhao, Long Feng, or Ozai even as they serve to be rather fantastic antagonists, though others, including the ultimately heartbreaking Azula, prove to hold more interest in that regard.

Next came The Legend of Korra. A particularly genius innovation of Avatar that makes it perfectly suited to prequels and sequels is the Avatar cycle itself: one can, in theory, explore as many past or future lives of the Avatar as one wishes. Korra, somewhat inevitably, decided to follow the one after Aang (albeit with one big peek backwards in the terrific “Beginnings” two-parter, which follows the first Avatar, Wan, and his struggles), and as a result, there’s a fascinating blend of text and metatext in that very choice. Textually, Korra must learn and grow into the Avatar she wishes to be rather than constantly looking over her shoulder at Aang and what he might have done, even if he might serve as great guidance. This is difficult for her in a number of respects, not limited to the fact that many in Aang’s story are still around and living their lives, and that his legacy was ending the war and ushering in a new era for the world. Quite a lot to live up to, as she discovers repeatedly.

Metatextually, the creators, understandably so, did not simply wish to repeat themselves, so the thought process was “how do we make Korra and her world as different as possible?” Thus,opposites and progress: where Aang was kind, playful, and nigh-unfailingly empathetic (generally, if you pissed him off, it was a sign something had gone horrifically wrong with your life choices), Korra is hotheaded, eager to fight, and egotistical about her ability to bulldoze through her problems. Aang lived in a pastoral world with encroaching industrialization; Korra makes her home in the thriving steampunk metropolis of Republic City. And instead of Avatar’s overarching Big Bad in the Fire Nation and Ozai who sought power for its own sake, each book/season now had a singular antagonist (Amon, Unalaq, Zaheer, and Kuvira), all of whom seek theoretically noble goals for either the wrong reasons or with incorrect methods. The character dynamics are changed too; while Aang grew up an orphan that ran away from a monastic order, Korra was raised in comfort and happiness (arguably even spoiled in some respects), and she gains an ever-growing social circle that come with their own sets of problems, particularly in what she must define as her Avatar duties and keeping them in balance with her personal desires. Even the music can be different, with Book 1 in particular emphasizing robust jazz as the “character” of Republic City.

This was, in all honesty, probably the right approach to take in many instances. While I love Avatar’s core cast, a sequel that jumps this far ahead should arguably focus just as much, if not more, on the new generation as the old. And, true, some of Korra’s most delightful moments come from past and present colliding, such as how Aang’s son Tenzin tries to live up to his father’s legacy as an Airbender even moreso than Korra as the Avatar, seeing Zuko remain an awkward goober well into retirement, or Toph eventually finding a marvelous equilibrium as a cranky old woman who lives in a swamp and would like everyone to just leave her alone and not hug her, please. Aang in particular gets some useful reexaminations as someone who could be just as flawed in his own way as Korra, good person he might have been otherwise, with resentments flaring up about how he may have favored Tenzin over his other children due to their airbending connection. They’re ultimately resolved, of course, but it’s arguably quite daring and ambitious to give a lovable hero such prominent feet of clay. As is the thought of giving its villains nuanced arguments in favor of their ideals rather than simply making them unimaginative brutes, or tackling tough issues of spirituality, equality, and what the best forms of self-government might be. And that’s Korra in a nutshell: it wants to tackle big, weighty themes within an all-ages action/adventure series, and I admire it a great deal for this tendency.

However....like its parent series, this comes with its own series of pitfalls. Because the status quo in Korra’s time is a relatively stable one, and because this is an action series, there must be factors introduced to disrupt that stability. And since there is no overarching puppetmaster pulling all the strings of each disparate antagonist or thread (though connections do exist and sometimes in novel ways), this leads to each book sort of....trying to establish a new status quo with each new threat. This is a perfectly valid way to do things, mind, and many other series have done so successfully. Where Korra struggles is in lining everything up for its characters. I would say Korra herself, as the lead, largely does not suffer from this since, well, she IS our viewpoint and we follow her in some fashion in most episodes as the main plot driver; even “Beginnings” is tied directly to her struggles with both the conflict and her motivations. Tenzin, as noted, is a terrific and very different kind of mentor figure. And the introduction of Varrick in Book 2 provides a much needed wild card who can flit in and out of conflicts in ways either hilarious or destructive, and his eventual character development is oddly touching for such a goofy, outsized figure. But the rest of the supporting cast can often be left poking around for things they can do since, well, we can’t just get rid of them, that’d be mean. Mako and Bolin probably get hit with it the worst, acquiring tedious romantic subplots, flitting between occupations with little rhyme or reason, or getting what should be a truly touching development (finding their extended family in the Earth Kingdom) landing completely flat because we aren’t even sure this has been an issue for them before.

The antagonists also run into a problem of tone and weight. Because none of them outside of perhaps Unalaq at points (he definitely seems more than a little pleased at deposing his brother’s leadership) are interested in craven power for the sake of it and their own greed, this requires them to be more complex figures than the likes of Ozai or Zhao, who were fantastic for their story functions but primarily functioned as petty, cruel tyrants. Again, this is in theory a great idea, and Korra having to learn just as much from the “bad guys” as she does from more positive sources is very fitting for this franchise’s themes. But what ends up rearing its head is that this IS still an action series, and thus conflicts must be facilitated through fighting much of the time, so every so often we have to throw in something Really Bad for the antagonists to do to remind us that they are in fact on the wrong side of an argument. This can leave things feeling a little flat as a result. Another problem occurs in that Korra is often not given the same rhetorical skills as her opponents. Some of this is character development for a moody, uncertain young woman, true, but it’s a little frustrating to hear Korra continually offer weak-sounding entreaties of “but that’s bad” after long, eloquent speeches. This eventually fixes itself in the final confrontation with Kuvira, but I would’ve liked to see more of a strong moral backbone for Korra in addition to her asskicking skills.

Then we have Voltron Legendary Defender, shepherded by Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, both of whom started as storyboard artists on Avatar before graduating to directors and eventually producers on both it and Korra. Voltron is a franchise with its own weird, bifurcated legacy, with several TV series, comic book lines, and other media based on a weirdly cheery, hot-blooded cut-and-paste dub of a grim, mystically minded mech series from the 80s all coming before this incarnation. As such, these two were hired not so much to reinvent the wheel as to provide their own take on an established property; it’s a situation more comparable to what generally happens with superheroes or other mythic legends. I would say Voltron ends up as the most purely ambitious series, even moreso than Korra, that has come out of the Avatar braintrust thus far. It’s a show with not one lead character, or a trio, but six main characters who could easily take the helm and be our focus depending on the episode. And rather than an earthbound narrative, it shoots for the stars, offering a sprawling galaxy of worlds, species, and adventures. It sounds at first like a tall order, an impossible task.

And yet, I would say the series largely succeeds in fulfilling those ambitions, mostly because it’s clear Montgomery and Santos have taken a number of good lessons from their prior projects and know how to properly build things up, as well as managing everyone’s individual arcs. Mysteries are established as early as the pilot with stray details (Allura’s evasiveness about the Black Paladin’s bayard, Keith’s knife, Pidge’s background, Shiro’s missing year), and all are eventually paid off through character development and revelations. And while there’s a bit of the travelogue feel on occasion, everything is far more serialized than even in Korra, each major milestone leading to the next fluidly. The antagonists also feel like a marriage of the best of Avatar and Korra’s approaches. Zarkon and Honerva could have felt like regressions to Ozai, but both prove fascinating figures in melding those qualities with a more nuanced portrayal of just how tyranny can take hold (though Avatar flirted with this a little in its brief portrayal of Sozin). And while Sendak is more of a Zhao-like brute, you get a strangely melancholy sense from him at some brief moments, as if this is all he really knows how to do. Lotor, meanwhile, is the best portrayal of the character yet, jettisoning the more unsavory traits that can be distressingly common and keeping him as a raw, complicated figure who wants to do real good, but is beset by paranoia and a ruthless streak of pragmatism. The moral lines are thus a lot cleaner and easier to manage than Korra. While there’s occasions where the heroes struggle with how to go about doing the right thing, and those are excellent dilemmas, the all-encompassing war makes things less messy and an UNTENABLE status quo that must in some way be defeated; unlike Ozai, who only tipped into outright megalomania by the series’ end, Zarkon has kept a stranglehold on the universe with very few pockets of resistance and no opposing armies. It also continually shifted said status quo, never content to rest on its laurels and offering big shakeups like the Lion swap, Zarkon being slain and staying that way, and plotlines such as the Earth invasion. Even in the early seasons, we don’t stay with the “these guys are the only ones fighting” narrative for terribly long, with groups like the Blade of Marmora being introduced and tied into the larger narrative through characters like Shiro and Keith.

Thus, I would say Voltron is ultimately the most consistent post-Avatar series outside of Prince, but this also occasionally comes with its own tradeoffs (though you will not find me believing the series ever became truly “bad”; the later seasons are too connected to the early ones for me to feel that way, and there’s much in them I love). Because everything fits together so neatly and we’re often off and running to the next plot point, this can occasionally leave us without much breathing room to process things or leave some details obscured in terms of “how things work” (the magic and sorcery in the series can often run more on Plot Needs and Feelings rather than strict rules, for example). This hurts some of the character development occasionally, although you can actually arguably see where some of the missing pieces are and that it’s entirely possible things just got cut for time. What I’m thinking of here are things like Allura and Lance’s romance, which is sweet enough but could’ve used just one or two lines of reckoning with how both of them feel about it/their relationship changed, hearing from Shiro about how he might have felt about his clone and melding with them/building up his romance with Curtis more (though we can probably guess how THIS got cut down), or a couple more bits of setup with Lotor’s ultimate plans. The series’ visual shorthand is usually excellent, but in these cases and a couple others, I think some dialogue elaboration would’ve helped things and made them even stronger.

Now, you might be wondering “wasn’t this about The Dragon Prince? When the hell are you gonna get to the point, Spider?” Well, my long-winded pontificating is at an end for the previous series, and now it’s time for More Of That with this one. Prince borrows/lifts much of the setup from Avatar: an opening narration establishing the world, multiple kingdoms and factions fighting for control through a long war, and questions of prejudice and cooperation, as well as a trio of main characters trying to make things right as they travel. Much like Avatar, this has great benefits, and if there’s one thing I would say Prince improves on that series, it’s how the adult characters and antagonists, like in Korra and Voltron, feel like more complicated figures out of the gate. Viren might seek power, but there is a real devastation to moments like Harrow’s brutal rejection of him, and Harrow himself is a leader who struggles much more readily with the responsibilities of his position, musing poetically that an adult is much less free than a child. And the trio dynamic that develops is markedly different from Avatar’s in some key ways, namely in how old resentments and prejudices can affect things, or Ezran, the youngest of them, often seeing the most clearly through that fog.

You might perhaps sense the block I’m struggling with at this point in the series, and indeed, Prince almost feels a little TOO much like the travelogue sensibilities of old-school Avatar: we have to go here, then here, etc. There’s also a curious lack of scale to the proceedings in a number of ways: the big battles never quite feel as large as they should, with the action succeeding more on one-on-one intimate levels, and the towns can feel oddly underpopulated. They can still hold interest, of course: Ellis and Ava’s storyline is incredibly touching, and I’d love to hang out more with Lujanne at some point in the future. Quirky grandma types are the best. But compared to how Korra and Voltron pushed forward into new types of character dynamics and ways to tell the story, Prince can often feel like a regression or trying to build off an Avatar-weaned audience instead of trying something truly unique and new. The characters are a bit younger, a little more childish, and the calculation is more than a little evident. This isn’t ultimately some great sin, mind; there are plenty of echoes of Avatar in both Korra and Voltron, but what continues to draw me back to those series even with the noted flaws is that they dare to be different and try and forge their own identities, break away from the familiar.

And there’s nothing to say that Prince can’t similarly improve and build on itself, of course, and it already has in some ways. I disliked Soren and Claudia in season 1 largely because their “adorkable” qualities felt oddly forced and not quite sincere, but both have proven to hold more interest in the second season, the former dealing with guilt and expectations, the latter proving to be alarmingly flexible in terms of her morals. Ezran is left in an absolutely fascinating place by the end of the season too that breaks up the trio dynamic and could be just what things need to distinguish themselves. The awesomely-voiced Aaravos is instantly intriguing; this guy knows WAY more than he’s telling, and I’m eager to see what his deal is. And while DeSena’s presence is familiar and comforting in many ways, he does strike a notably different note with Callum than he did with Sokka; while the former can be energetic and nerdy in some fashion, he’s less concerned with questions of masculinity and lacks the latter’s hilarious drama queen overreaction tendencies.

Ultimately, as said at the start, I quite enjoy Prince and would in theory love to see it continue to tell the full planned story they have in mind (though some rumblings about potential mistreatment of WonderStorm employees are alarming/I hope they’re addressed, and I may just be a LITTLE salty about how little attention they have received compared to the regularly bullshit conspiracy theories the Voltron crew has been subjected to). But for me, personally, it’s going to have to really commit to those proposed changes to really forge a new identity for itself. Otherwise....I’m not sure I’ll ever really LOVE it.

#the dragon prince #tdp #avatar the last airbender #the legend of korra #voltron legendary defender #vld #atla #tlok #analysis

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celestial-depths · 4 years

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Dracula (2020)

(spoilers) I’m kinda sad that I didn’t watch this one with one with a bingo chart or a drinking game. Even with all of its plot mutations and character updates, Netflix’s Dracula (2020) is pretty much exactly what I expected from a Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat take on the classic source material: a self-congratulatory, over-produced adaptation obsessed with its own “cleverness” and with its overbearing main character, sprinkled with juuuust enough moments of genuine innovation to make it really sting when it all amounts to a big dud. If you have seen Jekyll, Sherlock, and the worst of Moffat’s Doctor Who episodes, you know exactly what I mean. If you don’t, I refer you to this entertaining and ridiculously long video essay (that absolutely merits every second of its 1 h 49 min runtime) by YouTuber hbomberguy: https://youtu.be/LkoGBOs5ecM; even though I don’t completely agree with all of his points, he does make a strong, multifaceted argument on why, despite his admitted talent, Moffat’s writing usually ends up sucking hard. Anyway. I think the first episode of the three-part Dracula series does make some kind of case for itself. It sets a distinctive mood, includes some pretty solid performances, tells a coherent story, and introduces some truly impressive and creepy horror imagery. I also enjoyed the inclusion of Sister Agatha - even though her being revealed as the Van Helsing of this version is definitely one of those Gatiss & Moffat moments that the writers thought would be much more of oooooh moment than it actually ended up being - who did serve as a formidable opponent for Dracula for the first two episodes. As I said, Moffat tends to anchor his stories to an overbearing lead around whom all other characters revolve, and while that’s is definitely the case here as well, Sister Agatha does stir up the dynamics by refusing to dance to his tune. Still, the writing is also riddled with the usual Moffat plagues, which stay mostly at bay in episode 1 but end up becoming more of an issue in the second episode. The second episode, which fully takes place on the doomed ship Demeter’s journey to Britain (which I believe has been the subject of a horror film script that has been stuck in Hollywood’s development hell for years and years - I wonder if it’ll ever get made now that the story concept was basically executed here?), is overlong, and it’s weighed down by an unnecessary framing device that develops into an unsurprising plot twist, and by the general lack of interest in creating emotional investment in any other character besides the two leads. Just like the ship, the story drifts in the fog for ages but almost makes it to shore in one piece, only to be sunken down by the most stupid thing I’ve watched in a very long time: episode three. Yikes. I do my best to give credit when credit is due and point of the merits of things I overall disliked, but I honestly can’t say that there was anything in the finale that I liked. It’s a mess, and not even a hot one. It’s more like they dug up the long-dead remains of Jekyll, carved out the most awful bits, reheated them, and then left them out to cool down again. I could go on and point out every little thing I found exasperating about the episode, from the regrettable time jump to the lack of thematic focus, to Van Helsing going on and on about the “illogical” nature of Dracula’s weaknesses like it’s remotely interesting, to the clumsy narrative structure that picks up and abandons plot threads like it’s an indecisive customer in a thrift shop, to Zoe Van Helsing becoming just another addition to Moffat’s long line of seemingly “strong” female characters who are rendered basically powerless by the overwhelming charms of the male lead, and all the way to what must be my least favourite horror trope - a paramilitary, pseudo-scientific secret organization set on capturing and studying monsters (seriously, can we please retire this unexciting trope that has never once improved any horror property?) - but for now I’m only going to address the one that made me groan the hardest: Lucy. If you are at all familiar with the novel or any of its numerous adaptations, you might also be aware of the conversation around Lucy and Mina, the novel’s two female characters who both embody Victorian ideas about women and sexuality. A popular reading is that Lucy, the flirty little minx with various suitors who ends up being seduced and corrupted by Dracula, is the whore to Mina’s virgin, which reflects the narrow, black-and-white, judgmental attitudes towards women who stray from the Victorian ideal of the virtuous, demure woman with no appetite for sex or male attention outside marriage. In that sense, the 2020 incarnation of Lucy is a faithful adaptation of the character from the book. And that’s precisely the problem! Just because Bram Stoker’s book is sexist, it doesn’t mean that this version should be that as well. But it is, and oh god I hate it so much. Gatiss & Moffat’s Lucy is a glittery, uncaring thot who takes selfies and DMs strange men, because of course she is; shaming young women for liking sex, being beautiful, and enjoying attention is exactly the sort of thing men who cannot relate to women do when they’re trying to be insightful. And as if that wasn’t enough, they also give Lucy “depth” by making her resent her beauty in some way that remains woefully unexplored, because heaven forbid pretty girls should have any thoughts inside their head that aren’t directly related to being pretty. Even the shallow, dark edge they give to the character fails to bring her any sense of complexity and humanity, and she ends up being just a beautiful creature for men to gaze at in both adoration and condemnation. A beautiful creature who must ultimately be cruelly punished for the sin of being lovely and untameable. How’s that for some Victorian bullshit? More than anything, Dracula reads like a revue of Gatiss & Moffat’s (particularly Moffat’s) greatest and most recurring grievances as writers: a self-defeating attempt at outwitting the audience with “surprising” plot twists hammered awkwardly into the story at the cost of anything that might have made it good, ambitious world-building ideas left to die as soon as they’ve been introduced, an overreliance on a scene-chewing, dickish male lead character who’s supposed to be bad but, like, in a fuckable way, pointless queer-baiting that is guaranteed to elicit frustrated screams from certain parts of the internet, and terribly written female characters with inner worlds conceived by a middle-aged man who is evidently unable to imagine a woman whose every thought isn’t motivated by uncontrollable lust for aforementioned dickish male lead. Jesus.

#dracula

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kcrabb88 · 7 years

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A Historic Meeting of Three

Summary: Enjolras introduces Combeferre and Courfeyrac for the first time. Featuring my sometimes headcanon that Enjolras and Courfeyrac were childhood friends. Just a small thing that’s been floating around in my head! Featuring mentions of Prouvaire and Bahorel.

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says with a dramatic, pronounced yawn. “Why did you drag me out so early?”

Enjolras bites his lip against a smile, shooting a fond glance at his old friend. “It’s just past one in the afternoon, Courfeyrac.”

“Yes of course but I was up until nearly five in the morning you see,” Courfeyrac complains, stretching his arms above his head and yawning again.

“Mhmmm.” Enjolras take a sip of his coffee, hot and with just a touch of cream. “Out with that Bahorel fellow again were you?”

“I was!” Courfeyrac takes a large swallow of his own coffee, even his curls looking limp from exhaustion. “He introduced me to this fellow Prouvaire, and both of them would like to meet you.” Courfeyrac pauses, looking out into the street from their café table. “Speaking of meeting people, where is your friend? Wasn’t he supposed to be here a few minutes ago?”

“He gets a bit…distracted…” Enjolras admits, chuckling. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Courfeyrac adjusts his cravat, smoothing it out after it was more hastily arranged than usual. “Well I’m getting rather impatient for a pastry, so hopefully you’re right.”

Enjolras looks out into the street, searching around for the now familiar face. He’d met Combeferre several times now, the two of them spending their time sunk into deep political discussions—sometimes peppered with vigorous debate—and getting to know each other. Even when they disagreed Enjolras felt exceedingly comfortable with Combeferre in a way he’d only experienced before with well, Courfeyrac, who he’d known since the age of twelve. They both grew up in Marseilles, and Combeferre in Avignon. After a few more minutes Enjolras spies Combeferre through the crowd, recognizing the tall figure and the reddish dark brown hair and the spectacles. Enjolras smiles again when he sees that Combeferre’s coat isn’t buttoned straight, his bag slipping from his shoulder in his haste to reach them.

“My sincere apologies,” Combeferre says as he comes up to the table, pushing his sliding spectacles up his nose. “I got to reading this collection of Condorcet’s essays you see, and lost track of the time!”

“Quite all right.” Enjolras indicates the chair next to him and Combeferre sits down, eager for the coffee already waiting for him, the steam curling up into the cool late autumn air. “Courfeyrac, this is my new friend Combeferre I’ve been telling you so much about. Combeferre, this is my childhood friend Courfeyrac from Marseilles, and new to Paris like we are.”

“I’m quite pleased to meet you,” Courfeyrac says, reaching out and shaking Combeferre’s hand. Enjolras noticed the unsure look on his face as Combeferre approached, clearly wondering what sort of unique person Enjolras had befriended, but a fond grin broke out across his face as Combeferre started speaking, clearly charmed. “Enjolras can’t stop talking about you at all, you see. And if someone has Enjolras’ good opinion, I tend to believe they are surely worthy of meeting.”

Combeferre blushes, taking the first sip of his coffee after adding some sugar. “Well, Enjolras and I have learned quite a bit from one another. And had some interesting debates. I think it’s a true sign of friendship when you might disagree on tactics even as you agree on the same ideal.”

“He says you are quite the debater,” Courfeyrac answers. “And while using an economy of words. Impressive.”

“And he says you are rather impassioned.” Combeferre gives Courfeyrac a wry grin, raising a single eyebrow.

Courfeyrac laughs, smacking his hand on the table, and Enjolras feels a particular sort of warmth filling up his chest: he’d felt certain they’d like one another, and it looks as if he was right.

“Well,” Courfeyrac continues. “If you were late meeting us because you were reading Condorcet I can tell you’re the sort of person I’d prefer to be friends with. Enjolras is astonishingly punctual, but…” Courfeyrac leans over toward Enjolras, a teasing glint in his dark green eyes. “Sometimes he reads in the evening and forgets the time entirely and then falls asleep with the book in his hands. I’ve caught him at since we were young, and when he started reading political materials—ones his father might not entirely have approved of—it only got worse.”

“Says the man who was out until five in the morning when he knew he was meeting me today,” Enjolras argues, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

“Five in the morning?” Combeferre questions. “Might I ask what you were up to?”

“For that story,” Courfeyrac replies, his eyes twinkling with delight. “I’ll need some pastry first.”

They order three mille-feuilles, the jam perfectly sweet on Enjolras’ tongue as he listens to Courfeyrac talk about going from one party to another, an incorrect address, and a discussion of the merits of hashish between Bahorel and Prouvaire.

“Bahorel and Prouvaire are proper republicans as well,” Courfeyrac says in a conspiratorial whisper. “Though I think Bahorel will get arrested for the sheer audacity of his waistcoats, one day. Prouvaire’s a poet and you can tell: he tries his hardest to dress like someone from a medieval court, but it does seem to please him.”

“Perhaps with all of these potential new friends we can form one of the societies you were speaking of Enjolras.” Combeferre raises his coffee cup in Enjolras’ direction with a wide smile, a hint of shyness remaining.

Enjolras pushes a stray piece of hair behind his ear, the strands grown overlong, but he keeps forgetting to cut it, and Courfeyrac tells him he looks like a cherub the longer it grows. “I should like nothing better.”

“Hear hear!” Courfeyrac agrees, draining the last of his coffee. “I’d say we could meet Bahorel and Prouvaire tonight, but I think they said they were going to explore a cemetery?”

“A what?” Enjolras asks.

“Fascinating!” Combeferre says simultaneously.

Enjolras and Combeferre catch each other’s eyes, chuckling at their different reactions.

“I didn’t know you were a believer of ghosts,” Enjolras remarks, intrigued simply because Combeferre sounds intrigued, and his enthusiasm tends toward infectious. “I supposed I assumed you weren’t, given you’re studying medicine.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I am exactly,” Combeferre explains. “But they could exist. I don’t have proof either way.”

Courfeyrac studies Combeferre in the way Enjolras knows indicates a growing partiality, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Well if we want to go to the cemetery with them, I’m sure they wouldn’t be opposed,” Courfeyrac adds. “Besides, if anyone bothered us, Enjolras is learning canne de combat, I’m sure he could protect us.”

“Oh,” Enjolras protests, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you dare.” Courfeyrac prods Enjolras directly in the chest with one finger. “You are unnaturally talented at it, and you were already ridiculously good at fencing, and you can shoot. It’s unjust you’re allowed to be so good at all of it. Wouldn’t you agree, Combeferre?”

Combeferre swallows back an obvious chuckle, raising both of his eyebrows. “Entirely, yes.”

“Teaming up against me already,” Enjolras complains. “That didn’t take long. So, what does Prouvaire want to do at the cemetery with Bahorel?”

“I’m not…entirely sure, only that they invited me and muttered something about the souls of dead poets,” Courfeyrac explains. “Prouvaire was talking a great deal about Coleridge when he mentioned it, though he’s still alive, so obviously not the one they’ll be communing with. At least I don’t think so.”

“Sounds like an adventure,” Combeferre says, cleaning the remaining pastry crumbs and jam from his plate with his fork. “And I’d like to meet them. Besides, as you said, Enjolras can protect us from any nefarious characters. Or even nefarious ghosts, perhaps.”

“Yes,” Courfeyrac agrees, his voice resting on the edge of a laugh. “His golden hair glows in the moonlight, you know. Scares ghosts right off.”

Enjolras tosses his napkin directly at Courfeyrac’s face, Courfeyrac’s delighted laugh bursting into the air.

“Well,” Combeferre remarks, dryly amused. “I suspect with the two of you as my friends, I will never be bored.”

“No,” Enjolras says, fighting back a laugh as Courfeyrac cleans the stray jam from the napkin off his face. “I suppose you won’t.”

#Originally intended for Triumvirate week and then that got moved but I had the idea so here you go!#Power Trio #My fic #Canon era #Enjolras #Combeferre #Courfeyrac #Les Mis

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monasatlantis · 4 years

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Final Review of Trails of Cold Steel 4 (Don’t search for the review of act 3, there is non!)

So yesterday I finished Trails of Cold Steel 4 and that means it is time for my final review for the game that finished the Cold Steel - Saga and brought a happy ending for this wretched fairytale XD

Spoiler for all Trails - Games including Hajimari!

Lets start with saying that all in all I absolutely agree with those people who said that CS4 has some of the best scenes in the whole series, but all in all is just so-so otherwise.

As you’ve read in my previous reviews, I had a lot of trouble with the pacing of this game this time. It was too slow, then too fast, then suddenly slow again, then suddenly fast again and... you get it. Act 3 was over so fast that I couldn’t believe it was actually over already, while I almost died of boredom in act 1. And its not just the pacing that it was the problem, but also the way the plot was delivered. I mean, from the end of CS3 to the final day of CS4 its been only two months and we barely played one month of those two months and it felt extremely rushed in a weird way. Saving Rean, finding missing Friends, rushing into the the first rivalries and all that in an in-game-week or so. It felt longer and it should have been longer. Even with the Courageous 2 at our disposal it seems impossible to walk though half of Erebonia for all those hidden-missions and so on in one day, enjoy some quality-time with your army of Friends and lovely Ladys in between and then rush to the next Shrine (which is a huge dungeon with hard bossfights by the way...), that you have to free from some sort of barrier first and all that in one freaking day. And while your enemies are so exhausted from the fights that they collapse. we go on, rush though the dungeon, fight monsters, win against the next boss and all we need is this healing-station-thingy and a few spells. Damn are we good!

Fun fact: There was some extremely unnecessary padding in this game, despite the fact that the plot was delivered in such a rush-rush way. Or was it really necessary to run through 5 overlong highways to talk to 3 different people, who all tell you thinks you already knew, just to find a place full of scarlet pleroma grass wish you are supposed to stake but only AFTER someone fights you and THEN makes you fight against a diving knight? While I was searching for a plot, those 3 people that are left of Zephyr were asking the guy who was wanted by the Empire to randomly join them. Huh? Lets not talk about all the necessary stuff you had to do to finally get into the Einhel Keep, when you were freeing Leeves. Or our little adventure though 5 of those Salt Pale towers, with overpowered teams and unnecessary fighting as leveling these guys up didn’t really bring you much for the rest of the game...

Boy was act 3 hard for being over so fast. Actually, I was playing on very easy and still found the game really hard. I mean, around every corner was either someone from Ouroboros, and Aion or a Diving Knight waiting for you. At some point in the game all 3 of those were waiting for you. How do those brave soldiers playing on Nightmare survive this game? And why isn’t Reans damn S-Craft killing everyone in one blow anymore? I was counting on that! XD

I am not going to talk about how they pushed New Class7 on us every given chance anymore. I am just saying that I was really disappointed because I thought they managed the whole “new class7″ and “old class7″ and “Rean belonging to both” thing so well in CS3 and I think they really fucked that up in CS4. I can not believe that they actually dared to say that new class7 is stronger then old class7, given how much more experience old class7 had. Or the way they constantly wanted to portray that new Class7 knew Rean better, even after barely half a year with him as their homeroom teacher... If they think that CS1 and CS2 and old Class7 sucked, then they shouldn’t have made those games!

I say it again I think the Bonding-Event-System sucked! What if I simply want to be friends with those girls for gods sake? I get that Rean is an hopeless oblivious player that deserves a few more trademark glares from Alisa and all... but do I really have to kiss myself though the girls, when I only want to be friends with them? In the end, I basically avoided almost all of them once more and that is really something Falcom has to work on of they want to keep the bonding-system. Personally, I do not dislike the bonding-systems. Relationships make more sense this way, but I want it to be MY choice if I want to allow Laura to kiss Rean or not. And if I have to skip all her events to avoid that, then this is not the right way to do that. Point.

I think Falcom could not handle the extreme mass of characters they thew at us. Which makes you wonder why they added Duvalie, after getting rid of Millium for the time being. Not to mention Crow or being allowed to use Tita and Randy and Sharon and sometimes even Celine. Once again, I hope they learn from that and don’t give a game that many playable characters again. I think the Crossbell-Saga handled that a lot better, even tho their cast wasn’t that small either - but they weren’t all playable, if you get what I mean. Plus... seeing how half the playable cast of Liberl and Crossbell came to our aid in CS4... how will they managed to pull that of with Reans team? Especially given that his new class7 has graduated by the time the Calvard-Arc starts.

Achem... enough with the bad. Lets say some good stuff about the game. I will stay away from “good music” as this is a given for me in Trails-Games. Tho I have to say CS3, was not just the best game so far in the saga, it also had the most amazing soundtrack. Still, the other Trails games weren’t bad with their soundtracks either, so I think it is worth mentioning that CS4 did really well with that too.

As I said at the start of this review. Some of the most amazing-scenes of the series were in this game. I mean yes, we have those memorable moments like when Joshua and Estelle finally were back together in Sky2 and so on. But in terms of amazing-ness CS4 takes the cake and eats it. Aside from the walking and talking part I think the whole part of act 2, were you are on the Pantagruel is just so amazing. I loved how the teams were reunited, how Rean finally was able to talk with Lloyd and how the teams were so harmonic with each other - just give me another round of Fie asking Estelle how far she already went with Joshua XD Or Elie and Alisa feeling the pain because they both fell in love with oblivious players XD Joshua being able to talk to Ash about Hamel. Having an all Girls and All Boys All-Star-Team to fight against Ouroboros. The return of Prince Olivert. Osborne stopping Cedric. B fighting on our side... it was amazing! The best scene in all Trails-Games so far in my eyes. But there were also a lot of other amazing scenes in this game. Not to mention the amazing Epilogue. First time the end of a Trails-Game made me feel whole.

I could write you an essay about how sick I am ob the “Sibling-Zoning” this game constantly pulls at me. Guys, Millium and Jusis are not the second favorite ship in japan (right after Crow and Rean and before Alisa and Rean) for having Siblings-Feelings for each other! The man-eating-tiger collapsing on top of princey-boy after she gave everything she had for him... because she sees him as a little brother? Yeah... right. Oh and by the way, riding a ferris wheel and watching the stars is not something you would do with your “little sister” if this was possible the last day of your life. This is something you would do with your girlfriend on the last possible day of your life. Which was wonderfully portrayed by Rean. There were a few scenes were the translation was changed to something that was less controversial and I do not like it!

I have cried like a Baby multiple times at the end of CS3 but I can not remember EVER playing a game that made me cry every damn chapter of it. CS4 was amazing when it comes to playing with may emotions one way or another. I cried of happiness, sadness and because I was proud or relieved multiple times throughout this game. It often were just a few tears, some of them stayed stuck in my eyes, but they were there regardless and I loved it. Even tho this game has a lot of flaws it still brought out the best of my emotions regarding all the characters we learned to love over the years. And the feeling of happyness for Rean and everyone else finally getting a happy ending was greater then I ever felt before in a game.

And for this alone, I still love this game.

#CS4 Mona Version #CS4Spoiler

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inclassessay957 · 4 years

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30 Books Everyone Should Read At Least Once In Their Lives

30 Books Everyone Should Read At Least Once In Their Lives Titles of essays and poems must be put in quotes. It occurs to me that you simply might be referring to a group of essays by Orwell in a guide that simply has the title Shooting an Elephant derived from the title of the essay. When you are writing an essay, make sure you italicize the guide title instead of underlining, bolding, parentheses, or using citation marks. Second, it’s most unlikely that your school textual content has grappled with the exact query you have been set. The academic essay is the mainstay of evaluation from the sixth-kind upwards. Yet formal training on this complex space is rarely given and students spend unnecessary time struggling to get it right. How to put in writing nice essays covers every little thing a student is more likely to must research, plan and write academic essays and assignments that may get you great marks. This should be one thing you ask yourself with all of your essays. If the quotes are just padding then go away them out. You want each word to be of value in your work. Now, within the last paragraph, you're the judge summing up and pronouncing the decision. You need to think for yourself and give you a ‘shiny concept’ to put in writing an excellent historical past essay. You can of course comply with the herd and repeat the interpretation given in your textbook. First, what's to distinguish your work from that of everybody else? There may be some typewriters which allow you to switch from regular typeface to italics, however I actually have never seen one. No doubt the IBM Selectrics could possibly be used to kind e-book titles in italics should you switched from one ball to another after which back again, however that appears awfully time-consuming. When typing, guide titles—in reality, the titles of any full-size works—should at all times be italicized. Titles of shorter works, corresponding to a poem or brief story, must be put in quotation marks. Some graphic novels are solely 50 pages long, while Madison Cooper's Sironia, Texas is over one million phrases, or around 1,731 pages lengthy. While novels generally concentrate on an overarching story theme, writers can explore many alternative ideas and subjects inside one novel. It's extremely unlikely that you will ever pen a finest-selling essay, but you might actually be the next finest-selling author of a novel. Whether your essays and your novels shall be in any respect much like each other depends only on which kind of essay and which kind of novels you select to write down. Book titles ought to be put in italics, until you are writing by hand, during which case you can underline them. If you might be utilizing a word processor you'll be able to and should italicize e-book titles. However, if you are utilizing a typewriter, I do not see how you can use italics. Before word processors got here into widespread utilization, it used to be the usual apply to underline e-book titles when typing. This indicated that these titles must be in italics if the manuscript was revealed in a guide, journal, or newspaper. If you’ve been arguing a case in the physique of an essay, you should hammer residence that case within the final paragraph. If you’ve been examining a number of alternative propositions, now is the time to say which one is appropriate. In the middle paragraph you might be akin to a barrister arguing a case. Includes Assignment Schedule Calculator that will help you handle your time by way of the different phases of writing an essay. In a short essay, your reader actually doesn't need an elaborate reminder of what you’ve argued. If you do want to repeat your primary point, no less than attempt to differ your word selection. Your final sentence or two ought to create closure, however in a method that continues to be detailed and particular. Obviously most of the rules of essay writing will apply to a mini-essay. A bibliography is not essential for a guide evaluation, but can reveal that you've got learn across the subject and understand the wider implications of the book you could have written reviewed. If the language is heavy, the sentences overlong and obscure you possibly can point this out. Perhaps the author likes utilizing lots of quotes in Latin and Greek however expects their reader to grasp and doesn’t present a translation. Get an perception into the minds of our teachers and team of educational creatives right here at Oxbridge Essays. Nevertheless, mini-essays have a few distinctive features price emphasizing. Any quotes you use from the book must be related to your evaluation. If you take the quotes out, does it make any distinction to your work?

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deadcactuswalking · 5 years

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 7th July 2019

I have been cooped up sick for the past week so I am so glad I can have a pretty easy episode of REVIEWING THE CHARTS this week, in fact, I have a really easy week ‘cause nothing really happened. I can pretty much play catch-up and that’s been great. I’ve even been more active on Twitter because of it. Anyway, time for another round of relatively family-friendly lame pop music ramblings.

Top 10

“I Don’t Care” by Ed Sheeran featuring Justin Bieber is still at the top spot for its eighth week and its only competition is the five other Ed Sheeran singles from his No. 6 Collaborations Project. Oversaturation is not a word Ed Sheeran understands, and I’ll get back to that when I talk about his second of three songs in the top ten right now.

“Senorita” by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello is steady at number-two but Thog don’t caare

We have our highest new entry on the chart this week at number-three, the... third newest Ed Sheeran single from the project and by the time you’re probably reading these, fourth-newest (Seriously, Ed’s ran himself into a corner if he wants that mini-album bomb considering by now he should damn well know UK chart rules). It’s “Beautiful People” featuring Khalid, but we’ll talk about it later. It’s Sheeran’s 40th(!) UK Top 40 hit, and 24th Top 10 (That’s a pretty great ratio), and Khalid’s twelfth UK Top 40 as well as his fifth Top 10 (Slightly less great ratio).

Up a single space from the debut last week is “Crown” by Stormzy at number-four.

Unfortunately, that means he brought Lewis Capaldi’s “Hold Me While You Wait” with him up to number-five.

Oh, hey, it’s Ed Sheeran, I haven’t seen him in two spots. I was starting to worry about him – I mean he might be falling off. Sigh, “Cross Me” featuring Chance the Rapper and PNB Rock is down two spaces to number-six. To be fair, I like this song.

“Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X featuring Billy Ray Cyrus is surprisingly pretty stagnant at number-seven.

Mabel’s “Mad Love” is of course up five spaces to number-eight, and looking like a pretty promising Summer hit, as well as being her third UK Top 10.

“Wish You Well” by Sigala featuring Becky Hill is sadly up three spots to number-nine. It’s Sigala’s seventh UK Top 10 and Hill’s third (second as a credited artist).

Finally, we have the unfortunate rebound for “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi up four spaces back to #10.

Climbers

It’s not all bad though, my favourite song on the chart right now, “Ladbroke Grove” by AJ Tracey, meets the top 20 at #16, up five from last week, becoming his fourth Top 20 hit. Elsewhere on the chart, “Thiago Silva” with Dave has debuted at #56 despite being three years old because of a crazed fan at Glastonbury rapping the words (near-)perfectly, but that’s not in the top 40, so Alex’s 15 minutes of fame won’t get covered here. Dominic Fike also gets his first top 20 with “3 Nights” up six spots to #20, which is an incredible song too. “Strike a Pose” by Young T & Bugsey and Aitch is up five to #22 and “Summer Days” by Martin Garrix, Macklemore and Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy is also venturing up the charts, specifically seven spots, at #26. “Find U Again” by Mark Ronson featuring Camila Cabello is up six to #31 off the debut and “Location” by Dave featuring Burna Boy has a chance at a second wind up five to #34. Wow, these are all great songs. Sure, there’s nothing promising in the new arrivals really, and we can safely ignore “Mother’s Daughter” by Miley Cyrus getting a video push up seven placements to #33, but this Summer has some pretty great hits so far and I’m glad it does because otherwise my end-of-year lists would be dry as hell.

Fallers

Most of these fallers this week are also pretty bad songs so it seems to me that the rubbish we kept in Spring is slowly being pushed out finally, as well as some unfortunate losses and songs that debuted high but collapsed afterwards. That last category includes songs like “You Need to Calm Down” by Taylor Swift down five to #15, “Bounce Back” by Little Mix down eight to #25 and “Mocking It” by JAY1 down eight to #27 off the debut despite an EP release. “Easier” by 5 Seconds of Summer stops wasting everyone’s time with its sloppy Nine Inch Nails sample down six to #37. Stormzy’s streaming cuts have finally cut the power of “Vossi Bop”, however, which is a great song, down a whopping 11 spaces, but thankfully only to #14, and the pretty good “Kilos” by Bugzy Malone featuring Aitch is down 10 off of the disproportionally high debut considering both artists’ current popularity last week to #30.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

My only response to this first drop-out is ferocious laughter, as Taylor Swift’s “ME!” featuring Panic! at the Disco has dropped out from #30 after a mere nine weeks on the chart and never hitting #1 or even #2, with a flailing single barely on the charts to save her album release from completely going under. In terms of other drop-outs, there really aren’t any to speak of, except more ferocious laughter, as “MEGATRON” by Nicki Minaj drops out from #34, which was its DEBUT. This means it’s below both “Shotgun” by George Ezra (A song that’s been in the top 75 for 67 weeks), “Thiago Silva” and freakin’ “Mr. Brightside” by the Killers (Which also re-entered outside of the top 40 because of Glastonbury)! Otherwise, we have some drop outs for UK hip-hop, as “Mr Sheeen” by Russ splash and Digga D is out from the debut at #28, and “Shine Girl” by MoStack featuring Stormzy is out from #36. They’re both not particularly great songs, but they had some promise.

We have one returning entry for once, which is “Giant” by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man to #40 after it dropped out from that exact space two weeks ago. Sure.

NEW ARRIVALS

#36 – “Higher Love” – Kygo and Whitney Houston

Produced by Kygo and Narada Michael Walden – Peaked at #2 in Norway and #63 in the US

So, Whitney Houston was an incredible singer and sadly passed away at age 48 in February 2012, after a decades-long career being wrapped up in personal struggles that soon overshadowed her music, especially her marriage with Bobby Brown, cocaine usage, but still eleven Hot 100 number-ones to her name, including some of the most iconic hit songs of all time such as “I Will Always Love You”, and the novelty of being one of, if not the, first African-American female singer to appear on MTV. You all know that. Posthumous releases have been few and far between, mostly consisting of cash-grab compilation albums, reissues and box sets, but there have been four posthumous releases as singles before this, most of which are just from a movie she starred in before she died, including duets with Jordin Sparks and... R. Kelly. Huh. None of them charted, then in 2016, some Malaysian dude sampled her in a cover of a mid-1960s progressive rock song... and that leads to this. I feel I should clarify that this is a Steve Winwood cover (Mostly because he and his co-writer are getting all of the royalties off of this, not even Kygo is credited as a songwriter), since this was his first #1, featuring (uncredited) vocals from Chaka Khan, from 1986, but then Whitney Houston covered it in 1990 for the deluxe Japanese version of her third album (Which explains the Walden guy’s production credit). Somehow, Kygo found the isolated vocals for this deluxe Japanese bonus track (We needed that dude on the Clockman search, I swear – or maybe he just has trunkloads of money) and made it a tropical house song, and it’s actually pretty good.

This is Houston’s 32nd(!) UK Top 40 hit and Kygo’s eighth, and it has no right to be this good. You’d think Whitney wouldn’t be putting this much effort into a Japanese bonus track, but her vocals don’t sound strained or tired here, they’re just as beautiful as her biggest hits, you’d think she was planning for a single release. The lyrical content isn’t anything special but with the grandiosity of the piano and trumpets that build up to a relaxed vocaloid drop that seems anti-climactic until it hits you again with a much more epic drop, you can really feel how desperate Whitney is in the lyrics, even when mangled to hell and back in the vocal fragments. I have nothing to talk about with this song really, and it may be a tad overlong for my taste, but this is decent, especially considering Kygo’s recent efforts and this being a tropical house remix of a Steve Winwood cover that was released exclusively to Japan in 1990 – you wouldn’t expect quality out of this, let alone choir vocals in the second drop that really make the song feel pretty religious for... no reason, but I guess Winwood’s song was always up for interpretation and he must have given this the thumbs-up at the time. The dude’s never going to complain about free royalties from some EDM DJ, he didn’t back in 2004 when Eric Prydz did it.. which, by the way, had a video that even the Prime Minister at the time admitted to being aroused to—okay, why is Steve Winwood the person who I found the most interesting here? It’s a good song, let’s leave it at that before I go on an essay-length ramble about Steve Winwood, Tony Blair and Japanese Whitney Houston songs.

#29 – “Don’t Check on Me” – Chris Brown featuring Justin Bieber and Ink

Produced by Sheldon Ferguson – Peaked at #13 in New Zealand and #67 in the US

Alright, so, yeah, I’ve used all of my energy up for that first song because I have nothing to talk about for this one or the song afterwards. It’s Brown’s 36th Top 40 hit here in the UK, which is about 35 too many (Yeah, I liked his last one, “No Guidance” featuring Drake, and I’m not exactly proud to say that). It’s Bieber’s 45th (Holy moly) and this Ink woman’s first, mostly because she has never released solo material and doesn’t have a Wikipedia page. Ink sounds good on the song, but Bieber’s boring as he always is and Brown’s vocals are incredibly overproduced, especially for this tone of song. In fact, I’m not going to go in any more depth than I need to, and just leave you with this. This song is a stripped-down acoustic ballad fronted by Chris Brown. That’s all you need to know.

#3 – “Beautiful People” – Ed Sheeran featuring Khalid

Produced by Ed Sheeran, Max Martin, Shellback, Fred Gibson and Alex Gibson (Did this song really need this many producers?) – Peaked at #2 in Ireland and Slovakia, and #26 in the US

I always feel like the highest debuts each week are the ones I have the least to say about, but maybe that’s because I’ve heard discourse about them all week and I don’t care for them enough to go on about how the new Taylor Swift song misses the point of Pride Month or how Chris Brown is an abuser who made up with Drake after a year-long fued that ended anti-climactically, or how Lewis Capaldi makes me want to eat Kermit the Frog’s insides. This song I’ve seen little to no discourse on however, and that’s pretty telling when all is considered, considering these guys are the two biggest male singer-songwriters out right now, but I think maybe that’s because the song has little to no discourse to be provoked from it. I mean, the lyrical content is interesting, mostly because it’s about how Sheeran and Khalid don’t want to become have their perspective on life clouded by the money and fame... which is very convenient for these guys since that’s their whole appeal – they’re down-to-earth lads who sing over a couple guitar&B instrumentals despite being some of the richest entertainers on Earth, and while nothing can really tell me otherwise that these guys are genuine, I can’t help but to think the lyrics are less of a genuine message and more just fitting in line with the public appearances they’ve established for themselves over the past decade. It doesn’t help that the overproduced instrumental is stodgy and cluttered with nasal vocal samples over some fake handclaps, bumping 808s and... chanting vocals? Also, I’m pretty sure that Fred Gibson guy snuck his “Fred again” tag into this song as well, during a really janky part in the first verse? That means there are two Ed Sheeran songs with a producer tag. Huh, at least this one doesn’t have a PNB Rock verse. The hook is catchy but it breaks momentum with the post-chorus chanting that’s just dumb as hell, and I’m pretty underwhelmed with Khalid in comparison to Ed here, where it would usually be a complete wash, but I’m pretty sure that’s because Khalid doesn’t care enough about perpetuating Ed Sheeran’s image of “Haha, I don’t fit in with the current pop scene of flashy clothes and extravagant music videos!” First of all, that isn’t the current pop scene at all, it was in 2013 when Ed came on the scene but that has switched entirely, mostly to his benefit, and second of all, I’m sure Khalid has no issue at all with wearing a suit to a couple awards shows. He’s barely in his 20s for goodness’ sake.

EDIT: “I Don’t Care” does not have the “Fred again” tag. “Cross Me” still does, but I’m just glad Fred Gibson hasn’t put his claws on everything he touches.

Conclusion

What a shoddy week. Uh, Best of the Week goes to Kygo and Whitney Houston for “Higher Love” and while “Don’t Check on Me” isn’t really worthy of my commentary, I honestly think “Beautiful People” annoys me more, so sadly I’ll have to give Worst of the Week to Ed Sheeran and Khalid. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more pop music ramblings and I’ll see you next week!

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