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shellyseashell · 2 years

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QUEER REP IN MM BOOKS

Rhjrhhrjrjjff I really woke up today and decided to talk about queer rep huh.

Alright. So mm. She’s one of my favorite authors and I love her books, but something that’s always stuck out to me is her queer rep. She’s straight, so as much as she tries (which aren’t very good tries), the rep is always going to be off.

For context, I’m an ace lesbian. I haven’t read the books in a while, so if I get anything wrong, I apologize.

The way I’m going to do this is by series/book. Some things might have specific things I want to talk about, I may go by character, idk. Be prepared for an incoherent rant.

TLC

I talked about it on the tlc unpopular opinions post, but I’m gonna say it again. Not all the couples had to be written as straight. Even if they all ended up in m/f relationships, with 9 main characters, it’s unrealistic none would be queer in some way, whether it’s sexuality or gender.

And why couldn’t it be? Honestly, the gender of either character in the couples could have been swapped and nothing would change. Why did they only recruit males for genetic modification? Why are dashing criminals always guys? Does Levana recruit only male guards? She has plenty of female Thaumaturges, so clearly she doesn’t discriminate based on gender.

Wolf and Scarlet could still find her grandmother. Cress and Thorne would survive the desert. Winter and Jacin still wouldn’t be able to be together, which honestly could add another layer to how oppressive Lunar society is, if she wanted to go that route. Which honestly, probably better she didn’t, since that’s something definitely better handled by queer authors. But my point still stands.

The only one that might be slightly changed is Kaider, and that’s only if Kai was a girl. Even then, Levana could have easily been the evil king instead of queen. Yeah, it would’ve changed how the whole Winter-Evret-Solstice situation would happen, but you’re the author, figure it out. And honestly? Levana would have been ten times more terrifying as a guy who only saw Kai as useful because they could have kids. Tyrants are terrifying, yeah, but that’s someone you meet in everyday life. Like Aimery, y’know? Idk where I’m going with that but it just seems like something that could add depth.

I talked about Cress in my original response, but I’ll go more in depth here. Cress was locked in a satellite for years. A lot of what she knows about the world is what she’s read and seen on shows, which is . . . exactly how comphet can develop. And what Cress has with Thorne definitely feels like that. We get no say on what queer rep and acceptance is like in the tlc universe, so for all we know all the netdramas have straight couples. Cress loves netdramas. She copes by pretending she’s on one. If Cress grew up watching only straight couples and didn’t even consider any other option, she would think that’s normal. That she can like men, and only men. Because if she wants to live the perfect netdrama life, she has to like men. So when she learns of Cinder and Thorne escaping, she focuses on Thorne because he’s a conventionally attractive man and she’s supposed to like him, right? She learns all about him and idolizes him and mistakes it for a crush. But she hides the Rampion because Levana is looking for Cinder. Yes, I’m saying I think Cress actually had a crush on Cinder. What about it.

What Cress knows about Thorne is what she’s read, which paints him as the perfect hero. The perfect man. Even as a criminal, he’s exactly what she thinks a man is supposed to be like, going off fictional standards she probably has from netdramas. And in the desert, they were working to keep each other alive, so it’s only natural they’d grow close. And I think Cress mistook platonic love for romantic love, because Thorne’s a man so it has to be romantic.

I’m way too invested in Cress and her sexuality, so I’ll try to wrap it up. Cress could have had an arc where she realizes she doesn’t like men. Her and Thorne are forced together for days and she realizes, yeah, this isn’t for me. Now, whether she realizes she’s a lesbian like I think she is, or she realizes she aro or ace or aroace or whatever, it would have been a nice arc, and I think she had the most potential for one.

RENEGADES

Oh god, Renegades. If I have her publishing order correct, her first series with queer rep. It was . . . not a great try. I think some characters had their sexualities confirmed in an interview or q&a or something, but not in the series, so I’ll be talking about what is confirmed in the series.

Starting with Humon (that’s the ship name right—). Look. I thought they were great. They were amazing dads, for the most part. I wasn’t too invested in them, so I don’t have many points to say, but I have a big one.

So the Council is notably, not the best people. Honestly, I feel like they were more of the villains than the Anarchists. Not to say the Anarchists were great, because they definitely weren’t. But it was a bad move to make the two queer superheroes the leaders (I know they Council didn’t have one leader, but honestly, Hugh was the leader) and then turn around and make them antagonists.

I know as a community, we love to headcanon villains and antagonists as queer, but that’s our own thing. It feels off when a straight author makes the villains queer, and none of the heroes (I’ll get to Danna and Narcissa in a moment). Especially when those characters are antagonists because they’re oppressing others. Agent N was used to punish prodigies who didn’t join the Renegades, and they treated the Anarchists horribly after their defeat. Sure, the Anarchists were awful, but they could have at least done something better than shoving them in the train tunnels to be forgotten. They didn’t even care about them enough to find out they had a child living with them.

And to make the two people in charge of that project, using their son to create Agent N, and then using it to oppress people queer, when queer people themselves have been oppressed? Bad move.

Queer villains are fine. Horrible queer people exist. But it’s not fine when they’re really the only queer characters.

Onto Danissa! Look. I love Danissa. That doesn’t mean they didn’t have problems. This time I’ll analyze each character instead of both of them together.

Starting with Danna. Honestly, she didn’t get much development. She was hardly there in Renegades, and she was hardly there in Supernova. Throughout Archenemies, and Supernova I think, she was again, more of an antagonistic force. Her actions were justified, yeah, but she was still an antagonist for Nova.

Even going away from that, she wasn’t very developed. Outside of being a problem for Nova, I honestly can’t remember anything about of her. Most of her personality is headcanons and fanon, honestly.

Narcissa was a little more developed, but even then, barely. She was just the mirror walker from the library in Renegades, I don’t think she was in Archenemies at all, and she played a major part in Supernova. I can name a few things about her personality, like how she likes reading. I don’t think she was ever really portrayed as an antagonist? But still feels weird that most of the queer characters, if not all, were villains.

Both Danna and Narcissa had their parts to play, and they honestly didn’t need to get together. The only time we see them interact is with Phobia, and even then we just get a line saying they grew closer during that experience. But we don’t actually see that development. Honestly, them getting together (which was just one throwaway line) felt like diversity for diversity points. There was no build up, both their characters were hardly developed, and they barely interacted. As with Danna, everything with their relationship is fanon.

HEARTLESS & INSTANT KARMA

I don’t have much to say on these, so I’m combining them. Starting with Heartless, I would have liked it so much more if Jest was a girl. Look. Look at me. I don’t care about your bullshit historical accuracy excuse. Queer people have always existed. Jest and Cath’s entire plot is that they can’t be together. That Cath would lose everything for loving Jest. You know who have been kicked out of families and lost everything just for loving someone? Queer people. We’ve been denied the right to love who we want and to just exist, and plots where straight couples are forbidden from being together have always rubbed me the wrong way. I know if Jest had been a girl it probably would have fallen into the bury your gays trope, and Cath becoming a tyrant would feel off, but Jest died because he and Cath had tried to be together, even if it wasn’t the direct cause of his death. Queer people die all the time just for being queer. Coming from a straight author, it would have been done poorly, yeah, I’m just tired of stories where two characters can’t be together due to social or political reasons being straight. I know that wasn’t specifically about queer rep but I’ve been thinking about it for a while.

I barely remember Instant Karma, so all I have to say is that she honestly had no excuse for not making someone explicitly queer. I can guarantee that in a modern American high school, it’s very hard to find a friend group without at least one queer person, if not impossible (obviously there are circumstances that change things, but in general). Prudence also had so many siblings? You’re telling me they’re all straight? Some of them were definitely old enough to know their sexuality. So which one is the gay cousin?

I haven’t read Gilded yet, and I know there’s stuff in there I’ll want to talk about, so I’ll reblog with a rant about that when I do.

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #mm crit #renegades #heartless #instant karma

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

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The Problem With Grisha

Spoiler alert for the first two grishaverse books, Shadow and Bone, Siege and Storm, also for the first season of Shadow and Bone.

I don’t know if its necessarily a problem as that may be bad wording for it but there is something strange about the way the Grisha are written. Now that I’ve watched the show and read the first two books I’ve been thinking more about this. The strange thing about the way Bardugo chose to write the Grisha is that she writes them as being both a minority and oppressed group that are hunted and killed but also as a privileged group. You get this really weird scenario where you’ve got the First Army looking at the Grisha as privileged and who are treated better than them in that they are given nicer accommodation in the army camps, they are given these bulletproof uniforms (the Keftas) whereas First Army are sent in as cannon fodder and have to have their sugar rationed. They are also treated with healers whereas first army are sent to medical. In the first episode too you can see the Grisha acting in a privileged way with the squaller challenging Mal to a fight knowing that if Mal wins he’ll be arrested and if he loses he could be seriously injured. With Zoya reminding Mal that stealing from second army will get him ‘put in a hole.’ Mal’s comment about the grisha always bulling them whilst the general is away. In the second episode you’ve got the first army general referring to the Grisha as ‘those fancy folks’ and talking about how when he joined the army his superiors considered Grisha lives to be more important than those of the first army. The grisha live and train in a palace. And having read the books I’ve learned there's even this hierarchy within the second army where some ranks are more favoured than others. All of this paints the Grisha as this privileged, elite force.

But then on the flipside of it we are also shown that Grisha are oppressed, they are forced to fight the King’s wars just as much as the First Army soldiers are. They are hunted and prosecuted and experimented on. They are shown to be feared and hated by not just the Fjerdans and the Shu Han but their own people too. In the second book we learn that after the fight in the Fold between Alina and the Darkling the First Army turn on the Grisha even tearing them from their beds and killing them to the point where many Grisha have to run and hide. In the show the Apparat tells Alina that the peasants hate the Grisha because the Grisha do not suffer and yet we are shown on countless occasions that the Grisha do suffer.

I can’t help but wonder why Bardugo wrote them this way, as this kind of paradox where they represent these two opposing archetypes. Taking a guess I’d say it was because of the way she was trying to present the Darkling and Alina and what I mean by that is under the Darkling’s rule the second army is segregated into these ranks, the Corporalki, The Etherealki and the Materialki, and they are ranked in that order with the Corporalki being the most favoured and the Materialki the least. Then when Alina becomes the second army general in siege and storm one of the first things she does is get rid of this favouritism. She encourages the three ranks to sit together at dinner and for the First army and the grisha to bond. I think its obvious that Bardugo was trying to show the difference between Alina and the Darkling, its very much Darkling ‘bad’ because he wants the Grisha ranks segregated and he doesn’t encourage friendship between the two armies. But Alina she represents unity and so is the ‘good guy’. However I personally don’t think it really works because there are too many other contradictions. Like its painted as the Darkling encourages this rank climbing and competition within the Grisha and this, I’m better than you, type attitude and yet we also know that he encourages the grisha to be humble and has them eat peasant fare. Its painted like the Darkling didn’t encourage unity between the first and second armies yet we also know that he discouraged bullying between them and that the first and second army worked together to cross the Fold in the skiffs to get supplies for the first army. There just seems to be too many contradictions. I don’t know I just think maybe it would have made more sense to have the Grisha be one or the other. Like to have them be an elite force that rules over the first army and have privilege, power and wealth. I feel like then this whole power corrupts theme would have fit in better because as it is, whilst they are presented as having some luxuries they are mostly materialistic, like the palace and nicer tents and nicer clothes, meanwhile they are shown to be very downtrodden and as being hunted. Whilst they have these powers that make them special as the first army general said with the advance in weaponry it won’t be long before the grisha are as useless as the rest of them. Which ties in with what the darkling says in the books about the age of grisha power coming to an end. I feel like with having them be both oppressed and privileged (if you even really can be both) you get this very confused message or moral of the story. Because you’ve got this villain who is craving power, who is hungry for it and you’ve got this army of grisha where some of them are also craving power and this is being shown as being bad, dangerous, the message here is don’t crave too much power, you’ve got a villain who becomes a tyrant and makes others suffer and is this symbol of the powerful hurting the weak for their own gain. But then he’s got this backstory where he is doing all of this in an attempt to save his people from prosecution. So now I am sitting here wondering what is the message here, is it that you shouldn’t save your people from prosecution? Or is it that sometimes good intentions can lead you down a dark path of corruption when you seek too much power? See if it were the second that might work, but only if you proved an opposite solution to it. For example if Alina had another solution to end the grisha’s oppression without committing all the dark deeds that the darkling does, if she ends their sufferings without giving in to the corruption of power. But so far she hasn’t, so far all Alina has been focused on is destroying the fold, but we are also told both in the books and the show that the grisha have been prosecuted and hated long before the fold was created. Sure it didn’t help but the people never needed it as a reason to hate or hunt grisha. So really what is destroying the fold going to do in terms of making things better for the grisha? The other thing Alina is focused on destroying is the darkling. So you’ve got the heroine of the story who is trying to destroy the man who is trying to save their people from prosecution because he has become too corrupt and power hungry, but she herself also doesn’t have any other solution to the Grisha’s plight. I mean maybe she’ll come up with some kind of solution in the third book and I’ll have to eat my words but as of right now I just feel like the message or moral could be clearer.

Like I said I feel like it might have worked better if the grisha were written as the ruling power of their world. As the elite and the first army as the oppressed who struggle to get supplies and who are used as cannon fodder as the grisha sit back in their fancy tents. You could then have the advancement of their enemy weaponry coming in and with the grisha’s abilities being less useful their power begins to slip away and maybe the first army sense this and try to rise up against them. The darkling fearing the loss of power then has the whole power corrupts thing going on and enter Alina who grew up outside of the little palace and so never had the power and privilege of the grisha and understands the plight of the oppressed first army, she ousts the Darkling and becomes the new general and teaches the grisha that they must stand against their enemies and can only defeat the fold by uniting with the first army. Then you’ve got that clear message of Alina, the hero, teaching the powerful to reach out a helping hand and rise up the weak, to stand united and to create a system that benefits everyone equally, one of unity.

Who knows maybe I’m thinking too much into this. But either way I’ve rambled on about this enough so I am going to leave it there.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #the darkling #alina starkov

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alicenttully · 4 years

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Something I’ve always been curious about, why exactly do book Dany stans hate Sansa? (assuming they’re not show watchers). They’ve never interacted in the books (yet) and their arcs have nothing to do with each other. I can understand show watchers because Sansa flat out rejected their precious white savior, but the book readers hatred is odd. (Just like all antis)

Honestly someone (maybe @sayruq @trinuviel or @cleverjonquil ) who have been in the fandom longer than I have would probably give a more satisfactory answer BUT I would probably say it's a number of factors -

1. Many Dany stans are like Arya stans in that they have "not like other girls syndrome". Therefore, they can't comprehend that a feminine character like Sansa could possibly have any narrative importance, or be a hero in her own right. Because if Sansa had been a character in a different story, she would have been reduced either to a love interest, a background character, gives up her ladylike interests for "character development", or killed to be someone else's motivation (ie Ned) Instead, she is a major POV character and has been called "central part of the story" along with Bran & Arya, she has a political arc with strong Queen foreshadowing, has her own endgame antagonist ALL the while still existing as a feminine character. Now, I know someone will challenge this by arguing that Daenerys is also feminine, which is true. But the difference between Dany and Sansa is that Dany is much more admissible because she has dragons etc

2. Which kind of goes into my second point. Many book Dany fans are male, fantasy readers, and they're used to seeing characters like Daenerys in the genre. I've said before that when you read Sansa's chapters and compare them to her siblings/Dany, Sansa arguably feels like she could be in a different literary genre to them. She's also a more realistic child character than Dany or Arya. That's not to say that Arya or Dany are "grown ups" (because reading Arya's chapters, you get a sense of how young Arya is too - for example, her insistence that Ned never loved anyone but her mother... which awww) but like.... Arya is a tiny 9 year old at the end of AGOT when she flees the Red Keep. Realistically, throwing a kid in the middle of a war zone - she should have died. Arya's survival is in many ways miraculous.

3. There are Dany stans who also happen to be Arya stans who hate Sansa. I get the feeling that some Dany & Arya stans also have an "alliance" (lol) but they'll 100 per cent turn on one another when given the opportunity or if the other character does something that pisses the other fandom off - for example, the horrible things said about Arya by Dany stans when surprise, surprise, she sided with her blood (that is, her inferior sister Sansa) instead of a invader/tyrant that would only bring more blood and carnage to a continent that has been devastated by a war very recently, in the show. There are a lot of hints in the books that show Arya is going to feel very similar. Like Arya named her direwolf after a woman who found refuge for her people after fleeing the Valyrians.

4. Book Dany stans love Dany because they've misinterpreted her arc as being a heroic one. They see her as a saviour because they've mistaken her anti slavery campaign as being wholly altruistic, and they think shes going to retake Westeros and reestablish her family dynasty (perhaps with Jon) or she's going to sacrifice her life fighting the Others AFTER she's decimated Kingslanding. Accidentally of course. They overlook a lot of red flags in her narrative. For one, her whole mantra of "If I look back I am lost" is her refusal to contemplate her mistakes. Her whole Dance arc. People say it's boring, but I think those chapters are very revealing about where George intended to go with her character. He could not have been more blatant when he has her think that if she gets to fly on Drogon, it'll be "worth it" despite at the same time having her witness the absolute nightmare Drogon has created by him showing up. The fact that Dany is an isolated POV character - think how much people's view of Dany might have been changed if we had Mirri's POV to counter hers- but then again, considering how much WOC are treated like monsters in situations when they're the ones who have been hurt by white women, racists would still try to rationalise what Dany did to her. Arya has a similar issue -she's interacted with other POV characters who all have their perceptions of her (Jon, Ned, Sansa) but while the first two paint her in a very favourable light - you know Arya is a daddy's girl (which I identify with, I'm much closer to my dad) and Jon & Arya adore each other. When it comes to Sansa, she doesn't think Arya hung the moon (she doesn't hate her either to be clear) but it's very obvious that when it comes to AGOT, that George was very heavy-handed with the way he wrote them. And because of that people walk away with the perception that Arya is the underdog and Sansa the mean older sister. But at the same time it's not that simple. The perception isn't entirely accurate. Yes Arya is in many ways an underdog, but Sansa isn't an enemy. Her moments of being "mean" are the result of the trauma she very recently went through and isn't processing healthily, her issues with Joffrey etc, her repressed anger towards Ned (the person who killed Lady) There's also the fact that Arya projects onto Sansa in her first chapter - she blames her for getting her into trouble with Septa Mordane etc. Like Sansa wasn't doing anything but chilling with Jeyne girl. You're the one who spoke too loudly. You're also the one who insulted the Crown Prince, and if Sansa was really the bitchy sister antis paint her as, she would have told Septa Mordane. But instead she covers for both Arya AND Jon's asses (because he's the one that Arya is mimicking) It seems like such a minor thing because I don't think readers at that point would understand how serious that is for someone of Jon's station to be insulting the heir to a throne. Like don't get me wrong I don't care that he did lol, but that considering the nature of Westeros - smallfolk/lowborn etc they've brought up to have a respect/fear for their lords/kings (now whenever or not that is a good thing is another question.... abolish feudalism!! equality baby!!! However thats not going to happen in Dany, Sansa & Arya lifetimes. I feel like Brans election as king is going to be one small step towards progress) and that was a dumb thing for Jon to do. Like it reminds me of how Ilyn Payne insulted Aerys by saying that Tywin was the true king and then Aerys had his tongue ripped out.

Just as book Dany stans love Dany because they've wildly misunderstood her plot and character, these same Dany stans hate Sansa because they've wildly misinterpreted her character, her arc, and motivations. For example some think she is on an redemptive arc after her "betrayals" in AGOT. Or I've come across Dany stans who geniuely think Sansa is going down a dark path and is a "villian in the making".

5. Some Dany and Arya stans have a similar view of Sansa in that she is only meant to serve/support them & couldn't be important in her own right. And they resent the idea of that not being the case.

Wow I didn't mean to get so long winded. Hope this answers the question though lol!

#sansa stark #anti dany stans #anti arya stans #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #antis don't interact #got #game of thrones #asks

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darkspellmaster · 6 years

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The Dragon Prince Theory: Meanings the names of the characters

One thing that stood out to me about Callum and Amaya is that they are heavily influenced in design from Asian counter parts. While we don’t know what their kingdom is I have a hunch that a good section of it will be comprised of various Asian influences.

The interesting thing about the two sisters though is their actual names.

Most are pegging Sarai as the Hebrew name for Princess, but that doesn’t quite fit what we see with Amaya. Both women have names that are Japanese in nature, which to me makes me think that Callum’s name may have been changed or that his name could also be influenced by other factors.

When I was looking things up regarding the coins and such I came upon some name meanings for both women and I think their names are more significant than we may realize.

First let’s start with Amaya since her’s is the most obvious.

Sarai…

Now the name has multiple meanings:

杷 which means a kind of Rake (Sarai)

讃良 –Sarai

讃 which means to praise -SA

良 which means good, pleasing or skilled -Rai

紗来 (Sarai)

紗 which means silk gauze

来 which means come, due, next or become

沙羅衣 (Sarai)

沙 which means sand -sa

羅 which means gauze, thin silk, arrange or spread out (also Rome) -ra

衣 which means clothing, dressing or garment - i

更衣 (Sarai)

更 which means grow late, night watch, sit up late, of course, renew, renovate, again, more and more, further

衣 which means clothing, dressing or garment

紗来 (Sarai)

紗 which means silk gauze

来 which means come, due, next or become

紗黎 (Sarai)

紗 which means silk gauze

黎 which means dark, black or Many

Now the thing is, we don’t know which Kanji group they could have for her.

Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if it was either

讃良 –Sarai , which would be Praising good skill

更黎 –This combination which would mean, dark night watch

Which would connect to her warrior states and the fact that she’s praised by both her sister and Viren for being a strong and kind ruler with Harrow. So there’s something to that there.

Conversely Amaya have some interesting points of view too.

雨夜 –means night rain

亜真弥 may mean true increasing

亜真矢 may mean true arrow

Amaya is also used as a last name.

Honestly the night rain or the true arrow I think would connect with the character and the idea of her sister being a warrior or connecting to the idea of night and dark.

Mean while the idea of maybe Callum being half sky elf or having that connection, his name in Galic means Dove King.

Ezran is an alternative to the name Ezra which means helper.

Harrow is a term regarding farm work and breaking up a field.

Soren is actually a Latin root word that means strict or serious.

Claudia means Lame

Viren is Hindi for Leader of Heroes

Rayla derives from the word rae which means ewe (may have a connection to the girl and the lamb painting)

Ellis is a form of Elijah which is God is Salvation

Ava is connected to Avis which means bird

Azymondias basically means colossal or tyrant

Gren means branch of a tree

Runaan I think is meant to sound like Rune, or the item that you use for magic.

Seems very interesting in regard to these names…I have to wonder what they’re going to do with them. Or if there is any hints in them.

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dramaplustautology · 5 years

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Tied to a Name

So I hit a kind of depressive (???) episode in the middle of the night and I can’t get back to sleep, so I expended all that energy on some writing. This is another mq(sort of)!Ty thing where I was trying to think of what her personal mech would be like, came up with messy stuff, so I wrote up a short story and better ideas emerged.

I’ll make a list of the mech’s features and other notes sometime later, but for now I gotta get up in oof less than three hours, lmao.

Summary: Ty has a strange feeling about the conference she’s going to crash, and decides to bring AI Aegis to her long untouched primary Mech.

“Remember, you can eject any time you want.”

As the mech’s optics came online, the AI’s targeting system focused on the lone lifeform standing on the floor of a vast and empty hanger.

Ty’s heartrate was high despite her calm voice, hands dug into her pockets to keep them from shaking.

Aegis could tell as though he were standing right in front of her, alive and overdosing on adrenaline.

“Why is it automatically locking on to you?” Aegis asked, becoming more distressed as a multitude of interlocking systems became active over the presence of a single human.

The hanger’s lights, still bright despite years left to collect dust, made the mech’s pure white armor blinding. With its plating and silver detail, the towering monster could hide itself in the ranks of the King’s Guard. The one unnerving feature was that it identified Ty and let its weapons cool.

“Did this used to be a police mech? It has riot control gear,” Aegis’ words sparked with static. “Long Range Audio Device, like any other, but has levels that cause severe pain, damage nervous systems…causes hallucinations?”

He made the mistake of directing the optics up, and the radar picked up the lifeforms in the city above them through hundreds of meters of dirt and concrete. The targeting system was asking him to the confirm the elimination of all enemies within range.

“Other mechs can detect humans and other life, but I’ve never seen one that immediately sees them as enemies.” The longer the AI remained tied to the mech, the more distressed he became. “Ty, I need a straight answer.”

“One day,” She headed to the ladder leading up to the landing by the mech’s helmet. “For now, I’m going to guess that either you’ve never heard of the Slugwraths, or they weren’t always so awful. My dad’s stuff was kind of like that, then DeeDee wanted me to have his ugly dad’s stuff too. Tyrant tech; different paint, same pain.”

“I’m not some pauper, and I want you to know that. Besides, what am I supposed to do if you won’t settle for only relying on me?”

“I have access to burrowing explosives,” The AI’s tone hardened. “These were made to seek and destroy civilian bunkers.”

“And that was when my mom was in a hurry,” Ty said, trying to reach over two rusted rungs. “If you dig deeper, you’ll find acid, fire, medieval toys. Artillery will do a better job faster, but when you want to send a message, it has to be ugly.”

Not that the artillery wasn’t good at devastating steel and flesh alike. Ty remembered playing in the grass while her mother had the mech kneeling under the canopy of a forest with trees made for giants. She was looking for bugs when the mechs arms were converted into a rifle.

Her mother aimed at the sky and shot lightning into the clouds. Farther away, where the giants lived, the clouds rained light until the forest was made for no one.

“How primitive,” The last person to repair the mech had noted. He focused on that instead of how the mech had three jaws. “But with that fool vacating the throne, and leaving his armory free, we could do so much better.”

“Ty?” Aegis gently called to her, noticing she was dangling from the edge of the landing by her prosthetic arm, staring into space.

She stayed there, tilting her head at her mech’s.

“This is my primary,” She swung her legs back and forth as a form of fidgeting. “I know it better than my own body.”

“Did you—” Aegis cut himself off, remembering that he had asked Ty for straight answers.

“I call it the War Criminal for a reason,” Ty said, resting her hand on her hip. “Sure doesn’t look like it now, with that fresh pearly paint.”

This time, disregarding the fear of taking such a repulsive weapon into his control, Aegis gained the nerve to turn the head of the mech to gaze at his friend.

“When being paramilitary was still a thing, my mom rode it until bullets and heat ate it down to its metal bones. Then, they built it back up, bigger and scarier. Rinse and repeat, until I began sitting in the pilot seat when I turned thirteen. It’s easier to use than a tricycle.”

Aegis didn’t know about that. Even if a seasoned pilot familiarized themselves with the complicated controls, the sensory overload from processing enough information to successfully empty a planet could melt eyeballs.

“But I did stop coming back, and not for a good reason, I’m sorry.” Ty lost grip on the teetering structure, and the mech’s hand out, deftly catching in its black palm. “Thanks for the catch!”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” He replied, wondering if he should tell Ty that the mech acted on its own.

“And would you look at that. It hasn’t seen sun in months and can still move like it took an oil bath,” Ty got on her knees and felt the joints of the mech’s thumb. “Doc used it to test his gear but he didn’t treat it badly. Too bad he didn’t get rid of the flaws.”

“Flaws?” Aegis noticed the self-scan, running over its organic features.

“I didn’t notice it myself until it was too late,” Ty said, drumming her steel limb’s fingers on her reflection in the metal. “Not that I could tell until it was too late.”

She waited for Aegis to yell at her.

“What? You thought I’d stuff it in a corner just cause I’d be riding a stained mech to class?”

“I trust you,” Aegis walked the mech forward, noting how light it was despite its grand height. Long range combat came secondary to close fights under the shadows of towers, and weaving through crowded streets. “The tech works better on Shadowscythe hoards and protecting cities under fire.”

It didn’t register immediately, but Aegis’ kindness made Ty giggle, and the mech’s readings told him that she had stopped shivering.

“The last technician would hate you,” She sat down, crossing her legs. “Not its intended purpose,” Ty used a mocking deep tone, draping her arms over her knees. “I try, as if that makes it any better.”

He didn’t have to think deeply to reply.

“No one belongs on the lonely side of the river, watching the stars pass them by,” Aegis said, recalling a story from Ty’s home planet. “The condemned might get stuck there, or were unlucky enough to be forced there, but there’s always a way back.”

“Huh, you remembered,” Ty kept grinning but it wasn’t in her eyes. “Well, it’s a cute fairy tale.”

“I-I suppose.” Aegis nodded the mech’s head, and the sight made Ty laugh.

“With you inside, it actually looks like a hero. With me, ughhh,” She groaned, remembering a particularly embarrassing loss. “There’s this stupid kick. The moment damage to the mech reaches a certain level, it jumps to the next galaxy over.”

Amazed, Aegis located an energy store reserved solely for jettisoning the mech as far as possible from the current conflict. Any attempt to bypass the automatic command to do so needed authorization from a bio-imprint.

“I’m thinking it was to save assets. My mom’s boss had it installed when she started using it,” Ty’s mouth twisted, hearing the Meatbag jeer at her for being a coward. “Doc could have taken it out when he was making his upgrades but he actually made it harder to get rid of. Guess he did always hate me. I wonder if DeeDee hated me too.”

Having a hunch at where to begin with Ty’s tangent, Aegis found a place with the mech’s identification.

“The records are telling me the mech was initially referred to with a number, but it’s clashing with its current designation.”

“Yeah, DeeDee changed it when he made me change the paint,” Ty shrugged. “I thought it was just a funny name until Doc told me that it fit me. It’s probably an insult.”

“You never looked it up?”

“No,” She admitted, pushing the curiosity aside. “I’m fine with knowing nothing about Vega.”

#mq #Ty (S)#futuristic AU #I guess????#yknow that story with the thing and altair #yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah #i hope this gets me through my idea blocc with comms too aaaaaaaAAAAA

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headphonehitokiri · 6 years

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Examine! Souza aka that gay sword.

It’s rare to find him truly at peace.

He is a weapon of war, after all, forged in the fires of conflict and ambition, seized by the hands of greedy tyrants. History has painted those men as heroes, but a hero is no beautiful thing either. Even locked away as a prize, a sword so old would have witnessed the rise and fall of several eras, been intimate with the darkness that lurks in the hearts of people... in some more than others.

There are others in this city more fit to bear the title of conqueror, though it is not lost on him that Souza Samonji should be with the Tokugawa clan in his own time. Their role in the fall of the Shogunate could as easily have put it in the Kiheitai’s possession as anyone’s, had the Amanto left the country alone. Sometimes he feels a dark amusement at having taken a treasure coveted by rulers for himself, a simple man who lives only to serve the dreams of others. And sometimes he thinks, he didn’t take anything. Souza lives in this world not as the sword, but as a person who is free to do as he pleases with his life, and he chooses to come here. Time and again, even after his months out of the city. As if he has nowhere better to go. Or, no, something more than that.

As if he likes it here, at Bansai’s side.

He sleeps quietly, stretched out on the bed in a loose yukata in the picture of luxury, the steady rise and fall of his chest suggesting he is not being visited by nightmares. (That makes one of them, huh...?)

The room is cold, and Bansai gently pulls the blankets up to cover them both. He pauses as that black mark on Souza’s chest catches his eye, not for the first time. A brand right over the heart, bearing the title of the famed Demon King. Sometimes, he wants to deface it, to erase it entirely.

Sometimes it’s out of anger on Souza’s behalf, for the way he’s been treated in the past. Sometimes, he admits, it isn’t. Souza’s pale skin bears faded scars from Bansai’s own sword, but they are barely noticeable in contrast to that blemish of the past.

A hand moves to trace one such scar, but he pulls back. Surely that would wake him, and to disturb such a peaceful sleep would be a crime. There will be another chance, a better time, to touch him.

Instead, he huddles back in under the blanket, just close enough to his bedmate to feel his warmth. Even at rest, his song is tinged with melancholy, but it is a comforting sadness; the feeling that they could remain here forever, unmoving and unchanging.

#themagehero #tenkatori #;memeday #;drabble #THIS BECAME NOT AN EXAMINE MEME RESPONSE AT ALL #BUT I LIKE IT SO I'M KEEPING IT!!!!!

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withtaintedcrown-archive · 6 years

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--// Logan and pride. Well, it was supposed to be that, but then it became Logan and repression.

He's good at acting like he is fine and keeping up appearances. He's too proud to admit when he's not well or when he requires assistance.

Why is this? All his life, Logan has felt like he was supposed to live up to impossible standards. I am not shy about mentioning this every chance I get. His parent was a hero who removed Lucien Fairfax from rule, and their entourage consists of only more heroes and a very beautiful boy who's a good boy. Surely all of Albion expected great things from him the moment he was born. However, it became evident to those close to him that he wasn't a hero and he wasn't anything special, just a boy of royal blood born to a former street urchin. Any attention he may have gotten as result of being expected to follow in his parent's footsteps quickly faded and he definitely noticed this. Of course he'd overcompensate, especially what with nobles no longer even bothering to hide the condescension at his parent having come from the street. He'd have to act as proper as he possibly could, and not show anyone weakness at all, not even in his affections. If he damaged the family name more than being a disappointment of genetics already had, he wouldn't know what to do. He tried very hard to be a skilled fighter, a good learner, well-educated, and well-spoken. If he didn't have the blood, he would have something. He had to find something to be proud of. There was precious little time for socializing and he didn't voice his concerns to even his caregivers, not wanting to disappoint them as well. If anyone thought on whether he cried as a child, they'd have little to no memory of him doing that at any age past twelve.

Due to the scrutiny put upon him, he was very careful in how he behaved, going so far as to damage his social life, family life, love life, and sex life. He hardly dated anyone, because he felt like he only had a small pool of people he could be with that he wouldn't be judged for. Judgement being that he's selfish, has bad taste, is soiling his family name, is returning his family to the dregs of society, doesn't care to continue his family's rule, is too open with his affections like some Dweller, being either too sexual or too frigid, etc. These were the comments he expected, and thus he mulled them over and eventually began accusing himself of some before he could even do the things he thought would lead to the criticism. This also lead to criticism, of course, and that made it even harder for him. He spent time with some of the nobles, but never honestly courted any. He spent time with regular folk, but again never courted any, and felt rather guilty for his obsession with keeping up appearances. He didn't feel comfortable sleeping with people he didn't like, and he was slow to form proper trust and affection. The way he closed himself off was something he did with his family as well. There was no time he was really vulnerable with his sibling, because he was the older sibling and thus had to be more mature.

When it seemed like his sibling could be a hero, a lot of attention was given to them instead of him. He hated it, but never blamed them for it, even though he did feel some resentment towards their blood. Everything he worked for would pale in comparison to what they would do. He never stopped to think on the expectations people would have of his sibling, since even if people didn't know they were a hero, they knew Sparrow was also the second child. They could put two and two together. If they couldn't, at least his sibling could be afforded more freedom than he afforded himself. He could find some comfort in that. He tried to live up to what everyone thought his sibling could be, but he wasn't them. He'd never be them. He could only be the best he was, which he personally didn't think was much.

He's had feelings for people, which he then never pursued, because it could end badly and cause something, and he was more concerned with his role as prince. Due to not talking to anyone about these things, he couldn't get any assurance that it would be fine. If anyone found a few of the letters he wrote and then never gave to anyone, he'd be seriously ashamed. It's not that he stopped giving people he liked things at all, he just never made it seem like it meant anything. Too concerned about the ramifications, that boy. What if his affections were reciprocated but he had to make a ruling that his love didn't agree with?

People expected him to be a certain way in another regard, due to his parentage, as well. Since he's related to someone raised by Dwellers(that's what they were renamed to, right?), he ought to be like them and everything nobles expect of them. It's not as though people are individuals rather than stereotypes. Dwellers are looked down upon by the richer folk, and he's had to deal with that. He tried to reject it, then felt bad for it. He figured out things about himself that he worried would just make everyone have even more expectations of him. They'd either see him as a loose and overly emotional Dweller or a depraved and whiny Noble, and he wanted neither. He decided to no longer see about who he was or what he liked, and be even more closed off to his own needs. He enjoyed travel, he loved food but never indulged much, he liked swords and horses, and he liked books. Acceptable things that wouldn't make him too much like a snobby noble nor too much like anyone the nobles would judge. It didn't make him incapable of being charming, he just never formed friendships with those he was charming to.

Most of his life, he's felt kind of like a letdown that was trapped between two worlds, and his first wife didn't help at all. It was his own doing. She wanted to marry into the royal family, and her family had status. Neither loved each other, but both could benefit from wedding each other. They both wanted children to continue their bloodlines, though Logan isn't certain if he was the only one who actually looked forward to children just for the sake of raising them. Raising them with her seemed like a disservice to any child he got, though, since they'd be the spawn of a loveless marriage he'd gotten himself into. The union wore on him.(I gave him at least one marriage, because that seemed to make sense for a prince and eventual king of his current age)

After she died, he was genuinely upset, not because he lost the status she had or a possible mother to future children, but because he didn't actually dislike her. She wasn't cruel, though not very affectionate or loving of him, and she never belittled him. She just wasn't quite his friend nor someone he was in love with or attracted to. He'd hoped they could work something out, maybe become closer. Losing someone you spent a significant amount of time with and someone you hoped you could love is hard. There were years between her death and his trip to Aurora and the beginning of Fable 3. It's why there's no paintings of them together within the Castle.

He got better at emotional things and worrying less about appearances as time went by, and a visit to Samarkand helped with this, but that was rather short lived.

Unfortunately, after his trip to Aurora, he fell back on not communicating and being too concerned of how others would see him. Not only did he lose people while he was there, he lost them to something nigh indescribable. How would Albion react if he tried to explain it? I went into a cave and it was very dark, there was a monster that taunted us, killed everyone I was with and almost me, and then Theresa told me it'll come here somehow to kill us all? He's no hero. How would they believe him when he spoke of Theresa telling him they'd be doomed in five years? They'd call him crazy or say he's making up excuses to be a tyrant. It's not like he could falsely declare war on another nation to cover it up either. He dropped his charm in favor of ruthless purpose. It didn't matter what Albion thought of him, only that they'd be prepared. All the people saw was a tense man who suddenly only cared about industrial development and military power, rather than the man who removed most trolls and bandits from the kingdom and interacted with other parts of the land and parts of Albion people rarely heard of to solidify foreign relations. He wasn't a perfect king before then, but he was certainly no tyrant or despot before his trip to Aurora. This is what confused a great many people. He was always so mild mannered before, and now he was a monologueing villain.

After being ousted from the throne, he still doesn't want to admit anything. He believes everything he did necessary and uses that statement to hide any sense of guilt. Guilt is weakness, after all. He didn't want to seem weak in what will likely be his final moments. He looks stoic while detained, and merely accepted his death. There was no expectation of leniency, but there was some hope he didn't want to admit he had. Now that he is no longer king and has already made himself the biggest disappointment in the family, there's a lot less riding on his shoulders and less pressure to be prim and proper. How much lower could he go after that mess? Yet, he still wants to keep strong and not give anyone an opportunity to dig past his walls and see a hint of vulnerability. He doesn't want to be a target. Emotional intimacy is still not something he affords himself. ))

#me: *is sad* me: i can use this to make a headcanon post #ooc #little lion man (about logan)#this became very long compared to what i was expecting and what i usually do.#i do have a shorter hc post in my drafts but that's mostly just saying don't blindfol him to bring him to your surprise party

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mozgoderina · 7 years

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15 Things You Should Know About Goya's The Third of May 1808 (Mental Floss)

Spanish Romantic Francisco Goya was the court artist to the Spanish crown through highs and lows. Yet it isn't portraits of royalty for which he is best remembered, but for his brutal and moving masterpiece The Third of May 1808.

1. The painting commemorates a dark moment in Spanish history.

In 1807, Napoleon Bonaparte's forces crossed the Pyrenees into allied Spain under the pretext of invading Portugal. Once in place, the infamous French emperor began to take control of regions of Spain. When he realized what was happening, King Charles IV attempted to flee to South America. But before he could, he was forced by angry citizens to abdicate in favor of his son, Ferdinand VII. Sensing an opportunity, Napoleon invited both Charles and Ferdinand to France. Fearing their leaders would be executed, the people of Spain rose up against the army, and were brutally suppressed. It is this suppression that is detailed in The Third of May 1808.

Two days later, Napoleon forced both kings to abdicate in favor of himself, and would ultimately install his brother Joseph as Spain’s new monarch. Rather than being executed, Ferdinand VII was imprisoned for 6 years before he was allowed to reclaim Spain's throne.

2. The Third of May 1808 is known by several names.

There are variant titles, including The Shootings of May 3, The Third of May 1808 in Madrid, or The Executions. Sometimes named for the location on which it is staged, the painting has also been called The Shootings on the Príncipe Pío Hill. Its grandest title is The Third of May, 1808: The Execution of the Defenders of Madrid.

3. It has a prequel companion piece.

Completed two months before its more iconic cousin, The Second of May 1808 depicts the actual day of revolt known as Dos de Mayo Uprising. While this work showed Spanish civilians in a moment of victory, The Third of May 1808 presented the French response the following day, when Napoleon's soldiers slaughtered hundreds of Spaniards in one cruel, dark night.

4. It can be read as an apology from Goya.

During the tumultuous French occupation, Goya maintained his position as the court's painter, meaning he had to swear an oath of loyalty to usurper Joseph Bonaparte. When the French where finally expelled from Spain in February of 1814, Goya asked the nation's provisionary government to "perpetuate by means of his brush the most notable and heroic actions of our glorious insurrection against the Tyrant of Europe,” which led to the commission of this pair of paintings.

5. The Third of May 1808 received negative reviews.

The daring artistic choices in the piece earned critics’ scorn. Goya broke from tradition by presenting his war heroes in a less than epic fashion, allowing the Spanish civilians to look like a bramble of humanity. He also included blood, an unpopular device in history paintings of the 19th century. Others docked the piece for its flat perspective and unrealistic staging.

6. Christian iconography contributes to its emotional weight.

While Goya rejected the tradition of making his subjects beautiful in their heroism, he embraced the chance to make them divine. Notice how the man at the painting’s center raises his hands in a pose similar to Jesus hanging from the cross. And if you look closely, you'll notice that like Jesus, this man has a wound on his right hand, reminiscent of stigmata. In this context, these Spanish rebels are presented as martyrs who died in love and service to their homeland.

7. The use of the lantern is subversive.

Baroque artists famously used light to symbolize the divine, but in The Third of May 1808, a radiant lantern is the tool that allows the French soldiers to carry out their bloody business before the sun comes up.

8. It's believed to be anti-war.

The blood, the men weeping for their lives, and the soon-to-be shot figure with his arms outstretched all contribute to the notion that Goya wanted to present battle as horrible, not noble. While respecting his fellow Spaniards who died in the effort to liberate the city, he makes war and its casualties look grotesque. The soldiers killing unarmed men are turned away so that the viewer cannot connect to them. War—according to Goya—is darkness.

Or as 20th century art critic Robert Hughes wrote, "Most of the victims have faces. The killers do not. This is one of the most often-noted aspects of the Third of May, and rightly so: with this painting, the modern image of war as anonymous killing is born, and a long tradition of killing as ennobled spectacle comes to its overdue end."

9. It's bigger than you might think.

The Third of May 1808 measures in at 8 feet, 9 inches by 11 feet, 4 inches. The Second of May 1808 matches its size.

10. Both pieces were damaged in another Spanish war.

The damage didn’t happen during battle, either. In a bid to protect the paintings, The Second and The Third were being transported to Valencia and then ultimately to Geneva via truck during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939), when a road accident wounded both works. A keen eye can spot the damage on the lower left hand corner of The Third of May 1808.

11. This marked a turning point in Goya's style.

The French occupation made a deep impact on the painter. While he'd supported the French Revolution, he was scarred by the horrors and subjugation he witnessed during the French occupation. While his works had previously shown an interest in social and political commentary (including his Caprichos series), art historians have noted that his work grew darker in both color and content beginning with these paired rebellion paintings.

12. Nobody knows when the public first saw The Third of May 1808.

Historians have found no references from 1814 that detail the painting’s debut. However, this gap in the historical record may have stemmed from Spain’s reigning king, Ferdinand VII, not being a fan of the work and its sentiment. The monarch had actually put a stop to plans to build a monument in commemoration of the uprising's fallen.

13. It has since found a proud home in Madrid.

Some historians speculate that the painting spent up to 30 years in royal hands (or royal storage), before being gifted to Madrid’s Museo del Prado sometime between its opening in 1819 and 1845, when art critic Théophile Gautier mentioned it being “relegated without honor to the antechamber” of the Prado. The first official record of the work in the museum's published catalog is dated 1872. But in 2009, Prado declared the painting one of the most important in its collection, leading to its posting on Google Earth with a resolution of 14,000 megapixels.

14. The Third of May 1808 inspired other acclaimed artists.

Both Edouard Manet's Execution of Emperor Maximilian and Pablo Picasso's Massacre in Korea show influences from Goya's disturbing depiction of war. In 2006, this connection was celebrated with a special exhibition at the Prado.

15. It has become one of the most admired paintings of war.

Compared to Picasso's Guernica for its fearless depiction of the brutality of war, The Third of May 1808's estimation has only grown in the art world. Once sneered at for its departures from convention, today its blend of Christian iconography, its emotional chiaroscuro, and its influence on fine art and popular art have helped establish its reputation as a groundbreaking masterpiece. Or as art historian Kenneth Clark puts it, "[The Third of May 1808 is] the first great picture which can be called revolutionary in every sense of the word, in style, in subject, and in intention."

Source: Mental Floss / Kristy Puchko. Link: 15 Things You Should Know About Goya's The Third of May 1808 Illustration: Francisco de Goya y Lousientes [Spain] (1746-1828). 'El tres de mayo de 1808 en Madrid', detail, 1814. Oil on canvas (268 × 347 cm). Moderator: ART HuNTER.

#art #modern art #goya #francisco goya #article #painting #brainslide bedrock great art talk #mental floss

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getoffthesoapbox · 7 years

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[7DQ] - The Tragedy of Yeonsan-gun

I started watching Queen for Seven Days (Q7D) on a whim this week. I went in expecting to enjoy a romance and some politics and yet another tyrant king who devolves into madness. But what I got was one of the most compelling character arcs for a “mad king” I’ve seen in a long time.

I’ll be the first to admit to having a soft spot for Wang Yo from Moon Lovers, but he had absolutely not a single redeeming quality to make the outcome of his sorry life anything more than justified karma. Q7D’s tragic Yeonsan-gun is a completely different story, and I’ve been obsessively thinking about him now that I’ve caught up with the latest episodes. I’d like to explore his character on its own and in conjunction with Chae-kyung, Q7D’s heroine, to hopefully pin down what exactly is so compelling about him.

Behold the twisted paths of a rambling mind under the cut below!

~ the tragedy of a self-fulfilled prophecy ~

The Yeonsan-gun we’re introduced to is a flat out tyrant, and his people and ministers are beginning to grumble about how unworthy he is of the king’s seat. Fairly standard for a mad tyrant. The creators initially make it appear that he’s tormenting everyone around him for no reason--he refuses to listen to his ministers give their reports, he berates them, he belittles his brother, he’s constantly paranoid and on the defensive. He’s one prickly pear, and it’s initially quite difficult to understand why he hasn’t had his own head chopped off yet.

I initially wrote him off, thinking there was no point in investing in a character so obviously set up to fall. But the creators surprised me on this one. Instead of treating him like a caricature of a person, they began to peel back the layers of the initial impression they gave of him, and with each layer peeled back a tiny hint of a potential pearl was revealed.

Slowly we begin to learn more about him. Why is he paranoid about his sweet brother Yeok, who looks at him with such affection and devotion? Why because the former king had told Yeonsan in no uncertain terms that he was to step down from kingship when his brother was of age, because Yeonsan was destined to destroy the kingdom. His own father wrote him off, stole his birthright, and didn’t see any value in him. That’s a pretty big pill to swallow for anyone.

Now, if Yeok was Yeonsan’s full blood brother, things might have turned out differently. Yeonsan loved Yeok, but he slowly watched Yeok stand in the spotlight of their father’s attention. Yeonsan, whose own mother had been deposed, was left abandoned and alone--the unwanted son of a traitorous queen, with a prophecy of doom on his head, writing him off entirely as being of any worth at all.

This I think quite understandably turned Yeonsan bitter and resentful, and upon taking the throne, he was determined to keep it. That being said, as Yeok mentions early in the series, Yeonsan never harms Yeok, despite having plenty of opportunities to. This is thanks to the affection Yeonsan bears Yeok, in spite of all the resentment and the envy. There is real love there between them, even as it begins to be subsumed by the heavy burdens and isolation of the throne.

Yeonsan’s troubles don’t end with his father’s death and his brother’s potential for usurpation. On top of these, his court is full of vipers--ministers hellbent on promoting their own ambitions and playing their little games. It’s clear early on that Yeonsan is completely and utterly fed up with the ministers to the point of holding each and every one of them in contempt. Worse, he has virtually no connection with his people, the people he’s meant to rule. Because he has no connection to the people, he is wasteful and extravagant and shows little interest in their welfare so long as his own needs are fulfilled.

Not a single person believes in Yeonsan as a person and moreover a king, other than Yeok, who is by birth Yeonsan’s rival and cannot become a trusted companion or advisor. Although Yeonsan has the comfort of a beautiful wife from the Shin family, he seems to have virtually no connection with her--likely she was forced upon him in marriage during his father’s reign, probably adding to his resentment. Had he chosen her on his own, I suspect he would be more attentive to her. He does have a concubine he seems to trust in a limited capacity, but this concubine is constantly conspiring with the ministers behind his back. Even though she’s working for Yeonsan’s sake, it’s also to keep herself in power. Basically Yeonsan has no team to support him, because they’re all acting against him in secret or are supporting him in unhelpful ways due to their own ambitions. No man is an island, and Yeonsan is isolated beyond reason. It’s no wonder he cracks.

Beyond this, Yeok’s mother the Queen plays her own games and is always lurking in the background, scheming to destroy Yeonsan in favor of her blood child. Yeonsan clearly wanted her affection and love, but was unable to receive either, adding further to his resentment toward Yeok despite Yeok having done no wrong.

All of this leads us to the present day Yeonsan, who is a man full of paranoia, rage, resentment, impotence, thwarted hopes, and desperation. He wants to prove the world wrong, but this very wish is driving him toward fulfilling the very prophecy he wants to escape. It’s a terrible tragedy that his family pushed him down this path and the ministers helped shove him over the edge, and then in the end he’ll be the one who must take responsibility for his failures, despite having never had a chance to begin with.

The most tragic aspect of his character is that there is within him a small, tiny flame of light and justice. This small flame, if only someone could have found it much earlier, could have truly led him toward becoming a sage king, rather than a paranoid figure of tragedy. I know historically Yeonsan-gun was considered mad, and perhaps that’s accurate in truth (maybe he really did have a genuine and legitimate mental disorder). But it’s easy to drive a person to desperate acts that appear insane on the surface or to an outsider but are actually quite rational given the limited decisions the person has left to them, and perhaps this more nuanced version of Yeonsan is meant to highlight that not all madness comes from the mind--sometimes it’s a reaction to external influences, and without a strong foundation to guard it, the mind soon crumbles under the onslaught. Not to mention the old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely, which may also be the more truthful result of Yeonsan’s fall. I’ll leave that to the historians, though, lol.

All I can say is that I’m going to cry buckets when this man meets his end. I’m not usually the type who wants to save villains from their foolish or arrogant actions, but this man is such an unfortunate wretch that my heart bleeds for him. It would be one thing if he’d been given every chance in the world and had squandered it due to pride or arrogance or selfishness. But I can’t bear how he was written off before he’d even been given a chance, how his own father could believe a prophecy over his own eyes. It’s one thing to try and fail and then be deposed, it’s another to be told from day one you never had a chance and you’ll never succeed no matter how hard you try. What a debilitating thing to tell your own son. All I can think is that the former king must have hated the deposed queen and his own resentment must have come out against Yeonsan.

Although I know Yeonsan-gun’s story is headed straight to tragedy, I can’t help wishing there was some way to save him.

~ the king who can only move a single space ~

One thing I really appreciate about Yeonsan is how he just rips into his ministers nearly every episode. I get such vicious glee out of watching him chew them out and taunt them and mock them. After watching so many sageuks where the ministers drive the sweet and kind heroes to distraction with their games, it’s absolutely refreshing to see a king who won’t take any of their shit.

Unfortunately, he’s ultimately impotent and powerless. I think this story does such a wonderful job at highlighting how helpless a king is when he doesn’t have the natural charisma and wherewithal to navigate the political waters. Yeonsan has no support, and he seems to be under the childish impression that because he’s wearing the crown people have to do what he says. It’s a tragedy of the highest order that he doesn’t have wise advisors around him to help him understand that the crown is only a symbol and that it has no power in and of itself.

~ a song of what might have been ~

A few things struck me after the time skip. One was that Yeonsan-gun is ridiculously talented--he plays instruments and paints professionally. He seems happiest when he’s playing the bard, a free spirit floating around the town, nameless and unknown.

I can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t have been happier giving up the throne entirely and abandoning politics altogether. It would have been impossible for him, I know--the throne is really all he has and to let that go would cast him adrift into a sea of chaos he might not emerge from intact. He’s so desperate to prove his father wrong that he would never have been able to let the throne go. His resentment’s too strong for that.

Still, it’s touching that he is willing to dispense with guards and servants and live on his own, helping Chae-kyung with the anniversary service meal without a single complaint, shopping with her, eating peasant food without turning his nose up. It makes me want to write some kind of alternate universe story where he realizes he needs to sacrifice the throne for his own good and goes on to become a renowned minstrel or something. Then he really could have gotten his own back on his father--rather than destroying the kingdom, his poems and songs become emblematic of the kingdom’s prosperity.

It’s too bad humans are so foolish that they cling to the things that hurt them the most when letting go and sacrificing them is sometimes the only way to move forward.

~ love arrived too late conquers none ~

Okay, I saved Yeonsan-gun and Chae-kyung for last because...holy mackerel this ship’s gonna be the death of me. ;D I never expected to get on board this thing, but now that I am it’s going to be such a heart wrenching experience watching everything fall apart.

I probably should have put this in its own post, but I feel so much of Yeonsan’s interactions with Chae-kyung point out the inner light he still carries that it has to be part of this exploration of the depth of his character. So here we are, lol. From the moment they first met in the pool after she chased him down, I thought “oh no, this is my ship.” It’s absolutely adorable that Chae-kyung checks Yeonsan out--she has more of a reaction to him as a man than she does to Yeok later on, lol. What an adorable meet cute. It’s such a shame they’re doomed to never even have a chance.

The thing that I noticed Chae-kyung brings out in Yeonsan is his smile. The man does not smile, unless it’s a mocking or derisive smirk. When he’s with Chae-kyung, his eyes light up like a sad puppy’s and although he tries to keep a poker face, these small tic smiles force their way onto his face. He usually covers them up quickly, but it’s just so deeply endearing to see Chae-kyung surprise a smile on his face, or a laugh. You can tell he’s not used to joy, and that it comes unnaturally to him, and that says a lot about his character without us needing to explore his back story any further. Kudos to his actor for doing such a fantastic job--the sheer amount of micro-expressions he puts into Yeonsan’s interactions with Chae-kyung never cease to leave me speechless.

Chae-kyung also brings out Yeonsan’s sense of humor, which is adorable and dry and clever and fun. If his court could have seen this side of him, maybe he’d have more political sway. But to show humor, you have to be wiling to be vulnerable, and Chae-kyung’s the only person who’s able to give Yeonsan enough of a sense of safety that he’s willing to let down his guard.

And that’s really the main thing I love about Chae-kyung’s effect on Yeonsan--her simple, honest affection is enough to make him feel safe for probably the first time in his life. He’s looking for a home, a place to rest and feel secure. It’s easy to see why he’s never had that--his father threw out his mother and then rejected him entirely, and his stepmother gave him nothing. Yeonsan took care of Yeok, and Yeok loved him back, but Yeok’s love wasn’t enough to cancel out the resentment. Yeonsan has never had that feeling of “home.” That’s why Chae-kyung, and her father really, get under his skin so much--these people offer him family, something he desperately, desperately wants underneath it all. Although he tells Chae-kyung not to call him brother, he doesn’t press the issue and continues to allow her to attach herself to him. Near her, he can sleep and the nightmares disappear, because he feels protected. It might seem kind of bizarre for a grown man to feel protected by a child, and then by a woman later on, but I think that’s what’s going on here. Something about Chae-kyung makes Yeonsan feel safe, the way a mother or sister does.

I don’t know if Yeonsan has romantic feelings for Chae-kyung. I’d say those are probably in there now that she’s older, and that they’re growing now that he’s getting heavily involved with her, but at the same time I think the simplicity of familial devotion that she offered him was the foundation of their bond, and I think that’s the piece that will always remain, no matter what happens.

He responds to Chae-kyung’s devotion with such a fierce desire to please her that it’s hard not to compare him to a puppy she picked up in the rain, haha. When she tells him that family should stick together, he rethinks his position on Yeok. When she tells him just to punish her alongside Yeok, he’s flabbergasted at her desire to protect both Yeok and him. When she tells him that he can become a sage king and do his father proud and restore his mother to her rightful place, he begins to change his actions to meet her wishes, much to the derision of Yeok and the Queen and the ministers. When she tries to get him to paint red on the ink wash painting of the Chinese rose, he immediately gives into her wishes despite an obligatory refusal. He clearly wants to please her and make her smile, and these are aspects of his character he’s probably never had the opportunity to explore.

This man has never known tenderness. He doesn’t know how to demonstrate affection or speak of his feelings. His love comes out in all these adorable, quiet ways that Chae-kyung sadly will never notice because her heart is elsewhere. When they chat at the table in episode 5, he gets all shy after he touches her face (I love how he’s always looking away shyly when he notices her as a woman or when she makes him smile and he doesn’t want her to know). When he finds her drenched in the rain, he offers his own umbrella to her, catches her in his arms, and then immediately begins ordering her to get herself dry. Anyone else would ask her if she’s alright, but he’s never said those words in his life. Instead he offers gentle orders to eat or dry up or tell him what’s happened. In time, perhaps, he could have made that final leap to speaking more gently and carefully, but he softens where he can.

He takes a huge step forward when he rescues her from being tied up on the cross and feeds her the antidote for the poison with his own hands. Like this is huge stuff for a king, especially this king in particular. For him to allow himself to express this much affection for someone is a milestone. Of course, this alerts all the ministers to a new weakness, which is unfortunate. Just as he’s beginning to learn to love, he’ll be quashed by the calculating cunning of his ministers. Still, he tries to save her father and her. The moment when he faces her down in episode 8 as she begs him to punish her rather than her family breaks my heart. He says her name over and over, wanting her to let him save her, but she won’t give in--insisting that in spite of all he’s offered her, she’s the one who’s let him down.

That’s the other thing about Chae-kyung that I think really gets to Yeonsan. She absolutely appreciates and values how he sticks his neck out for her, but she also fears for him and doesn’t want him to lose his influence because of her or her actions. Even though she loves Yeok and is desperate to protect him, she also wants to protect Yeonsan. The girl just has so much love in her heart, and it’s such a shame she’ll ultimately be unable to bring these brothers together and rebuild the torched fence between them.

I think Chae-kyung’s interactions with Yeonsan-gun help us see what he could have been if someone had only given him the chance. Chae-kyung enters Yeonsan’s life far too late to achieve any great results, and his course was long since set before she arrived on the scene. He was already married and in the hands of a cunning concubine; there was never any room for Chae-kyung, and now Chae-kyung has no room for him either.

In the end, I just feel grateful for anything the creators are willing to give me with this pair at this point. I know Chae-kyung will marry Yeok and that Yeonsan-gun’s in for a tragic end, but still... I hope there’re still some moments in the future episodes for me to enjoy highlighting this pair and their potential. Ultimately, they’re a love that can never be which was over before it started, but still, I can’t help but find it the more compelling love story in Q7D. Yeok, you’ve got a long way to go to overcome your big bro. Good luck, m’boy. ;)

#queen for seven days #seven day queen #seven days a queen #queen for 7 days #yeonsangun #chae kyung #7dq

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theliterateape · 6 years

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Revisiting Culture Through a New Set of (political) Glasses

By Don Hall

In high school, I was definitely a nerd. My friends were nerds. We did things like debate, forensics, band, choir, theater. We were in the middle of Kansas and we were artsy-types. There was, as there always seems to be, a disparity of power — the jocks and cheerleaders had it, the nerds did not.

I’ve told the story of the nerds rising up and nominating one of their own as Homecoming King (You can read it in my newest book, Belief is a Sledgehammer available now on Amazon) but three years earlier, we hadn’t managed that kind of solidarity.

My freshman year was filled with me getting beat up in the parking lot. Beat up in the bathroom. Beat up in the library. Stuffed into lockers only to be let out by teachers who looked at me with disdain at my inability to fend off seniors twice my size. Part of the issue was that I was an incredible smartass (let’s be fair, I never was a smartass, I am and continue to be for my span on Earth.) The other part was that I was one of the bigger (in physical size) nerds. My friends were mostly smaller and so I often was the one the bullying turds had to go through first. I fought back, but not well.

The year before high school, I found my muse. After seeing Meatballs with Bill Murray, I knew how to conduct myself in social situations. The rule breaking wise-ass. The take-nothing-too-seriously sarcastic guy. The cat above it all with the Fuck ’Em attitude.

One of the teachers who seemed to dislike me the most was Coach Strong (No, I’m not changing his name for effect. That was his name.) He exacerbated the animus between the jocks and nerds whenever he could. In gym class, required for all freshmen, it was often a nightmare. Most of the time, he would have us line-up, choose teams and play dodgeball or “touch” football. We nerds generally resigned to take 50 minutes of brutality three times a week.

But then it came time to give us grades. And Strong’s plan was to grade us on our ability to dribble a basketball around 30 orange cones.

“You didn’t teach us how to do that, how can you give us a grade on it?” I asked with my trademarked smirk.

“Get back in line, Hall, and start dribbling.”

I refused. I failed gym.

And it pissed me off.

I went to my debate teacher and asked him what to do. He suggested that I ask to be scheduled for the next school board meeting and make my case. I spent hours typing up the unfairness of basing a grade on a skill not taught in the class and requested either a change in the grades of the full class (including the jocks) or an adequate test to grade us on.

I presented to the school board and they recommended that the entire class receive A’s for the semester with a reprimand to the coach. He quit at the end of the year.

I thought the culture within the school would change. I believed by tearing down the unfairness I experienced, the drama kids and debate kids would gain respect because we had demanded it. That the band geeks would be seen in a different light.

It was a true blue win for the nerds and yet nothing really changed in the culture of the school. I got beat up less but, aside from that, the jocks ruled things and the nerds scattered in the hallways. That’s because the imbalance was not in equal protection or fairness but in power. They had it, we wanted it.

We watched the movies that demonstrated our desire for more. More respect. More dignity. More power.

Stripes

Either a story about two guys at the end of their ropes in life deciding to join the army and finding themselves in a unit full of other misfits in need of some affirmation and power, and transforming them into a better version of themselves. Taking on the power structure and winning. or A story of two white men gaming the system so they could get laid and using the most harassing techniques to do so.

Porky’s

Either a story of a group of hapless losers taking on a maniacal local tyrant and, through humor and guts, bring him down. or A story of a bunch of rapey creeps spying on women in showers.

Weird Science

Either a story of two lonely geeks using their knowledge of technology to create what they think is the perfect woman who teaches them to stand up for themselves and gain confidence. or A story of two white guys whose only reference to the feminine is porn and they create a synthetic woman to fulfill their intel fantasies.

Revenge of the Nerds

You get the idea.

We were inspired by these stories. Stories that pitted the outcasts against the status quo and won. Did we realize that they were all cultural contributors to the continued stereotyping of minorities and the centuries long marginalization of women? Of course not — we were outcasts looking for heroes. We were white kids in Central Kansas. Yet the jocks at our school stayed in exactly the same place: popular, respected and in control.

The only thing that would change that power dynamic would be if we had managed to erase the sports programs completely from the school. And even then, it would take a long fucking wait before the culture changed. Because we didn’t want to share the power. We wanted it all having been denied it for all of our school careers.

I’m no longer in high school but when I look out to a tiny but vocal minority of those seeking to shift the balance of power from the White Patriarchy, sometimes it feels like I never left.

Part of the method of resting control of the power to drive decisions in the world is the erasure of culture. The question becomes whether context can eradicate the culture of yesterday and whether it should. Take, for instance, the erasure of Native Americans from history books read by eighth graders: this painting over both their contributions and defense of themselves creates a false impression of who they were and, even worse, eliminates their very vital contribution of our understanding of the world. Men have been doing this for as long as they could.

Is it better to provide context for Eddie Murphy’s retrograde and dismissive take on homosexuals yet still marvel at the performance of a young black comic at his prime or simply erase the existence of RAW altogether?

How about Gone With the Wind? Better to just do away with it, with it’s racist portrayals and misogynist undertones or watch a film, known to be one of the 100 greatest films ever made, and contextually understand the time period it was filmed in?

Grease? Holy shit...there’s a lyric in Summer Nights that asks, “Did she put up a fight?” Now, my wife would say burn all the copies of every frame because she hates Grease but really?

The transphobic villain in Silence of the Lambs erases Hannibal Lecter?

The crows in Dumbo?

The fact that Rocky Balboa keeps at Adrian until she finally gives in, bordering on what most would call sexual harassment from a much more powerful man?

In listening to a recent pops concert of the music of Lerner and Loewe, it hit me that in a list of musicals that included Paint Your Wagon, Brigadoon, Camelot, Gigi and My Fair Lady, if going by the standards set by #MeToo, we need to torch all of them. Each is a study in patriarchy at work and women reduced to an object.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it is pop culture that changes the culture more than activism. The grudging acceptance of the vast middle for the rights of gay men and women came from Ellen and Philadelphia and Will & Grace — seeing gay men and women, not as a punchline, but as human beings with the same basic problems that they do in their living rooms and streaming online every day. Proximity breeds familiarity and that window we watch is like a window into our backyard. Suddenly people who had never met a gay person before (at least not an out one) felt friendship and closeness to a lesbian with a talk show, felt empathy for a dying gay man, laughed together about the trials of gay men navigating the planet.

It changed their minds in subtle but important ways. It changed the culture.

Back to Circle H.S. for a beat. Over the three years after the victory over Coach Strong, the culture did shift some. We never got rid of the football program but we did manage to pack houses with plays and musicals. The basketball team continued to play but the debate team eventually got state and national titles. The cheerleaders continued choosing looks and thinness over talent but the band and choir racked up accolades throughout the state.

We didn’t take power, we made it for ourselves. We didn’t push anyone out of the way for room, we made more room for ourselves. We endured the backwards teachers and thrived under those with a genuine belief in our right to succeed on our own terms.

When it comes to redefining the culture, it’s relatively easy to cherry pick those moments in cherished songs and films and plays and declare them forbidden due to problematic themes. It’s practically what the internet has been built for. What is harder but ultimately more effective is to ignore the jocks in the place and make room for ourselves. You don’t have to erase the indelibly racist and sexist Revenge of the Nerds in order to create Black Panther. You just have to create Black Panther. Get Out didn’t come around because of activism; it happened because Jordon Peele refused to give up on being excellent as a writer and director and comedian and eventually he had the clout to be nominated for Homecoming King.

Stealing power from those we saw and see as our oppressors is fucking ridiculous. It’s in the view that the guy standing in the doorway, blocking your entrance while talking on his phone, is oppressing you. Sometimes all it takes is to focus on the work you’ve got to do and slide past, take your part of the room and just assume the guy in the doorway was just a rude asshole rather than a Member of a Group Hellbent on Your Oppression.

I’ll confess, with the lens of today, I can’t really watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s anymore. I have a hard time getting past the anti-gay and sexist jokes in Caddyshack. But no one will ever convince me that Stripes isn’t hysterical and that Rocky isn’t a wonderful story of redemption and grit. It’s all OK. Millennials don’t get Seinfeld and I don’t care for the Marx Brothers and that’s how culture works. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

#Meatballs #Stripes #Porky's #Rocky #Weird Science #Revenge of the Nerds #high school #redefining the culture

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occupyscifi · 7 years

Text

A boy and his destiny

When I was 15 I had the same recurring dream where I was a god. I remember crowds of worshippers in temples of concrete bowing down at my feet and calling my name over and over again. I walked through them and they parted like the Red Sea as they reached out to touch the hem of my clothes in finger trembling awe. And as I walked I saw a great destiny ahead of me, where I’d be leading armies of men to great future victories in countries I didn’t recognise. I saw myself sat on a golden throne, dispensing harsh justice over millions of my fellow human beings. I saw myself living forever- unkillable, unageing. A leader of men. A tyrant. A monster. A god. The people around me were nothing but cattle, tools for me to use for my awesome purpose. In fact their very adoration of me only made me want to use them more. They were so very biddable, so very humble- it was impossible not to hate them a little bit. They were a carpet of flesh to be used for whatever I saw fit, toy soldiers for a boy Emperor. And use them I did, throwing them into wars like they were the plastic soldiers of my early childhood. Wars that I fought just for my pleasure at their destruction and to stave off the boredom of immortality. I saw myself raze cities just to build them up again, and then tear them down a century or so later because I had grown tired of them. I watched myself and I felt appalled at these genocidal crimes, terrified that I could be capable of such cruelty. Yet when I awoke the thing that horrified me the most, that chilled me to the bone was one simple fact. I had enjoyed being that tyrant. I had enjoyed treating people like little more than pieces on a chessboard. Had enjoyed using and abusing my fellow human beings, just for fun. What kind of person did that make me? “messiah complex” diagnosed my father one morning when I confessed my dreams to him “perfectly normal at your age. Comes from reading too many fantasy books with epic heroes in them. All this chosen one, once and future king nonsense. You want to watch that, next thing you know you'll be wanting extra bacon" "as if" I replied, looking at the burnt squiggles in the pan. My father is no great cook, and besides the taste in my mouth was already bad. The dream lingered there, an unpleasant tingling that I usually associated with waking up to find my bedsheets messed. I didn’t like the idea that my mind seemed to equate lust and power together. That didn’t seem healthy at all “more of your bacon’s a punishment, if anything” "smartarse" said my father, ruffling my hair "dreams are just dreams, usually a dream like that is your brain's way of telling you not to get too big for your boots. That you’ve got delusions of grandeur and need to be brought down a peg or two" "but it was so vivid…" I replied, looking out the kitchen window. The day outside was bright, the summer sun already making the world look slightly wilted and dusty. The bright light showing up the faded paint on the fences and the peeling walls of next door’s house. Too bright, like someone had got the saturation and contrast wrong on a TV. Summer does that, the heat makes things unreal. Heat haze puts things out of focus, makes your body feel heavy and useless. Give me winter cold any day, the lethargy of summer always made me feel unreal and the thought of the dream wasn’t helping. “dreams always are” continued my dad, matter of factly “it’s not like watching a film, is it? You feel the emotions, and not just the emotions…” “yeah” I replied, thinking about some of the lives I’d dreamed I’d lead. It hadn’t just been killing people, some of those adoring worshippers had been very nubile and very eager to please. And not just the female ones either. I’ve always been pretty sure I know which way my bread was buttered but in the dream, well, in the dream I could have my bread any way I wanted it “yeah I suppose” I concluded, munching on the bacon. It didn’t taste quite right either but that had more to do with my father’s cooking than the dream. “get yourself ready and get to school” said dad, moving off to rinse the frying pan in the sink “you'll feel better once you get out” I nodded in agreement, but still my legs felt wooden as I left the table, and my school uniform felt like it had shrunk in the night. Afterimages of dream kept jumping out at me as I left the house, the voices and faces familiar but unnameable. That uncomfortable feeling of everyone staring at me, expecting something great of me. "spooky" I shivered, grabbing my bike and kicking off onto the street "what kind of person wants to rule the world?” I muttered as I passed the neighbours bungalows, their brightly painted facades making them look more like stage props than real houses. "who gets a kick out of everyone being scared of them?" But the fact remained, an uneasy lump in my stomach as I let familiarity guide me to school, that I had enjoyed the dream. I had liked telling people what to do, liked the way the roaring crowds had cried out my name. Of course the name they'd shouted wasn't exactly mine, but dreams don't always get everything right.

"school" I said to myself as I passed the parade of shops and then across the weedy wasteland that people sometimes called a park if they were being generous "that'll stop me feeling weird" if there was any place that would take away my feeling of being something special then it would be a double maths followed by science. School was many things, but it certainly was not a place filled with willing worshippers. The familiar concrete block of Stanton Secondary School reared up, grey and ugly and utterly familiar. But then again look at anything familiar long enough and you start to question it. Was the place always so battered looking, were the walls always so cracked and the paint so faded? I didn’t want to go down that road, doubting reality only leads to one thing - boring philosophy discussions and bad science fiction. “Yo, Anton!” called a familiar voice and I turned to see Eric Larson, current best friend and sometimes worst enemy. Good old Eric, always firmly on hand to call me a twat if I got any ideas above my station like talking to girls or having an opinion of my own. “Eric, dude” I said, high fiving him. Eric then got into a rambling conversation about premier league football that I’d never followed but knew how to nod along to. Part of friendship is pretending that you care about whatever your mates care about no matter how obviously stupid it was. It also meant that I could stare about the playground, and more specifically stare at girls without looking like I was staring at them. I was just idly eyeing up Lindy Liu, who excelled in wearing skirts that were far too short for her long legs, when someone else caught my attention. The girl was not attractive, and she certainly didn’t have the unique way of wearing the school uniform that Lindy possessed. But there were two things that automatically got my attention. The first was that she was looking at me with that same look of adoration that I’d had seen all my followers wearing in the dream – even those whom I’d had killed for fun. The second was that I had no idea who she was. And while there were sometimes new students I couldn’t recall any that looked this, well, new. “Eric?” I interrupted as my friend was in full flow about the beautiful game “……and he’s been playing centre forward for, like….” “Eric, shut up and pay attention” I snapped, my voice sounding strangely authoritative. Clearly Eric thought so too because he stopped talking immediately “the girl. Over there. Who is she?” I made sure my back was to her so she couldn’t see me point her out. “who?” asked Eric, his forehead creasing in confusion as he looked across the playground. “the new girl. Sharp faced. Looks like her mum bought her uniform in a charity shop” “I don’t see anyone there” said Eric “and there isn’t anyone new” “well who do you call….” I began, turning around to point out the obvious only to find that the girl had completely vanished. Only the familiar faces of the school, people that I’d known and disliked and felt jealously towards, remained. “you’re imagining things, mate” said Eric, not unkindly “but she was here…” I began and then thought better of it. I was feeling weird enough already, I didn’t want other people thinking I was weird too. If the girl was real then she’d turn up, and if she wasn’t then, well then I had bigger problems to worry about.

I’d received many anonymous notes during my time in secondary school. Most of them informed me how much of a bell end I was, or other insults intimately related to my various failings as a human being. I had even occasionally received one or two that were positive but being as they always anonymous it was impossible to tell who they might have come from. However the note I found tucked inside my locker after double science was altogether new- not only did it not have any insults on it, it also only had two pieces of information. The first was a set of directions and a time. The second was a symbol, hastily scrawled across the top of the page. If it hadn’t been for that symbol I would have casually crumpled and then disposed of the note as being some trolling attempt by my so called best friends. Instead I kept the note in my pocket where it nagged at me as I walked to my next class. I’m sure I knew it from somewhere, though what game or movie I couldn’t at that moment remember. I certainly wasn’t going to show it to anyone to get their opinion – for all I knew it actually might be from some girl who for whatever reason wanted to meet up and confess her undying love for me. It was only mid way through Maths that I realised where the symbol had come from, and that it wasn’t from some game or movie. Either my subconscious was plagiarising another well known logo or whoever had written the note had a direct line into my dreams. That symbol, I now remembered, had flown on the banners of my armies and above the palaces and cities that they had conquered for me. I wasn’t sure which was more likely, but I knew I had to know for sure. So instead of hanging around with Eric and swapping witticisms at lunch I hurried away to follow the directions on the crumpled piece of paper – ending up in a secluded area near the bins behind the canteen. Hardly the most romantic location but when you are a teenager you grab what you can get. Usually what you get, however, is humiliation and I was ready to get a big dose of it. Therefore it was something of a relief to see the person waiting for me wasn’t a guffawing group of my so called friends calling me a twat. It was a relief, however, that was not to last for long. "you came" said the girl, the same look on her eyes as I’d seen in her earlier. I’d never had a stalker, or even a girl that had a crush on me. I wasn’t exactly sure how to react, and the fact that she seemed to have peered into my dreams made things even weirder. “I got your note" I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I held up the note, pointing at the symbol "the symbol. I think i….” I swallowed, not sure what to admit “what's it mean?" "it means you're special" said the girl, stepping close to me. That look on her face, the thrill of power it sent running through me. I felt a queasiness at realising how easy it is to lose any moral sense when someone else opens themselves up to you that way. The lure of power over another human being is almost too much to resist. The knowledge that I could do anything I wanted filled me with both horror and desire “your destiny. Its written. What was once will be again” “my dreams” I said, feeling the words pulled from me by girl’s wide eyed stare “the things I saw, are they… will they…?” “they’re real” said the girl “every moment of it. You are the once and future king. The immortal. The special one” “but how do you know?” I gasped, intoxicated by the girl and her promises of immortality. What else could a thirteen year old boy want but unlimited power and infinite time? “we have known of your legend for many generations” said the girl, stroking my face gently “I have searched for you as my parents searched for you. My whole tribe has sought only to find you and bring you back. After so long I have succeeded” “back?” I asked, looking around me. Talk of chosen ones and immortality looked strange standing by the bins and with boys playing football on the field nearby “where? I mean, I’ve got lessons….” “lessons?” said the girl with a contemptuous snort “what can they teach you that you do not already know? As if any of these old frauds have the right to do anything but bow down at your feet" she moved in even closer so I could feel the heat of her on my skin, see the flecks of pale gold in her eyes and her breath soft on my face "I'm here to set you free. I'm here to help you follow your destiny. We have to go now, before they notice I’m talking to you” “well I don’t think anyone minds” I said, not wanting to move in case the spell was broken but also because I was afraid it would reveal the stiffy I was concealing in my trousers. Either it was the talk of power or her proximity but it was hard to think of a time I had been more aroused “I mean, I am allowed to talk to girls…” “we have to go” she said urgently, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the gates at the back of the school “if any of them notice you with me then they’ll alert the high priest” “high priest?” “you don’t think I’m the only one who knows what you are?” said the girl, her face flushing red “every prison has its jailers and they are always watching. They’ve grown complacent but if they see me then they’ll know I’ve come for you” she looked fearfully at the field where now the boys had stopped playing football “shit, they’ve realised” “yeah, that I’m talking to a girl” I said with a smile “at last. Maybe I’ll finally get some respect” “you’ll get nothing, my lord, if you just stand here” said the girl. Running forward to the fence that went around the school she skilfully ducked under the wire “come with me if you want to meet your destiny. If you’re only interest is double English then stay here” I took one look back at the field and the concrete mass of the school shimmering in the summer heat. On the one hand dad would kill me if I got caught truanting, but on the other how often did a cute girl want me to follow her? Course she was convinced I had some supreme destiny or other but who knew, maybe she was right. There was only one way to find out. I ducked out after her. Even if she was crazy I might at least get a hand job out of it, and that was worth a month of detentions.

I was all right until we reach the line of trees that separated the town from its nearest neighbour. The girl had bounded up to the line of pines that marked the border between my home and the A road leading to Sturridge. It was also a psychological border, once I cut through here there was no turning back. Whatever craziness the girl was into would take over and great destiny or not, there was no turning back.

"umm, I'm not sure about this" I said, glancing back at the school through the trees "maybe we could just hang out here. Get to know each other a bit…" "don't let them put the fear on you" said the girl, breathing heavily "that's how they trapped you here. You won't ever regain your destiny if you keep doing what they say. You've got such powers in you. It would be criminal to waste them here" she stepped back down to me, coming close again and touching my face as if in awe "think what gifts you still have to give the world" “gifts?” I said, remembering my own mediocre life thus far. There was no evidence of any greatness that I could think of in my school results and my inability to even get into the school football team “why the fuck do you keep going on about me as if I’m the second coming?” “because you are” said the girl simply “can’t you feel it within you?” she placed her hand on my chest “can’t you feel the powers you have? Can’t you remember them? How you can turn men’s minds to your will just by words alone?” I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that I was just a normal kid from West Sussex who played football badly and couldn’t talk to girls. But that was just it. the dreams hadn’t just been dreams, I could feel that. They had the taste of real memories to them- memories of the future perhaps. They had the ring of truth where most dreams were just bundles of emotions badly cut and pasted together. “no, look I’m…” I began, but couldn’t continue. I remembered now things that I’d buried deep. The times I’d known things other kids had not, had said something that had the other children look at me in horror . How I’d sometimes seemed to know things were going to happen before they did. That sense of déjà vu that had made the other kids look at me awkwardly. What had happened when I lost my temper that time last year. How could I have forgotten that? Another boy had nearly died because of me and I’d forgotten. How did that work? “you’re remembering, aren’t you?” said the girl “who you really are” “no” I lied “anyway, what do you know about it? what the fuck do you know about my dreams?” “because they’re my dreams too” she said, moving close so that she was pressed against my body, her eyes looking up to me, adoring and subservient “Ever since I was little, I dreamed of seeing you there. On your golden throne. The city of Kirsk being levelled. The annihilation of the Sendai rebels. How I longed to see them burn in their millions” “they aren’t real. They were just…” I began, but I saw them in a flash that could only be reality. I saw myself at the head of an army blasting down armed soldiers like they were nothing. The flash of laser beams and energy shields in the setting sun. Soldiers shouting in a language that certainly wasn’t English and had probably yet to be invented. “I know you can be great, that this is not your life” she whispered, pressing against me and nodding at the village down the hill “leave them behind, build a kingdom out of the world that will echo down the centuries. Be that great man I know you to be…” “yes” I said, feeling now the sweet taste in my mouth. The taste of power, the realisation that I could do what I wanted. That the world around me had felt unreal precisely because it was just a stage prop between me and my ambition. All that I had to do was to tear it away, to use my powers to sweep the governments of the world away like they were nothing. I would gather myself an army of zealots, burn down anything that opposed me. In my mind’s eye I could see it as clear as my dreams. Cities aflame as my followers rioted, a triumphant procession through London. Washington. Beijing. All things were possible “yes. We can do this. It begins now” I pulled away from her, ready to go out there and seize my destiny. Ready to make myself king of the world. I was somewhat put out, however, as I reached the top to see my dad, leaning casually against a tree. “the high priest of lies!" hissed the girl, grabbing at my sleeve "he is your jailer, your enemy. He is…” "he's my dad" I said, looking at him as if for the first time. I saw the fear he was masking in his face, and the love too. I knew that he understood my destiny, I just didn’t know whether he agreed with it "you know, don’t you?” I said “about me” “that’s right son” he said sadly “but it’s not quite like she says….” "don't trust him" said the girl, making an awkward warding off gesture. As if my dad in his jeans and shirt were some kind of evil demon "he lies with every word. He’s been lying to you all along…" "fair's fair love” said my dad firmly "you didn't exactly tell him the truth either" "I told him he had a grand destiny, that he is a leader of men. That he is our once and future king, that he will deliver us from….” "and what you didn't say" he interrupted "is that those visions he has been having aren't of his future" "they could be. What will come again can surely….” "no" he put his hand on my shoulder as he addressed me "you know the truth son, deep down. Think about it" "the visions, the dreams. I…." he shook his head "I don't know" "your memory's not what it was" said my dad kindly "that's hardly a surprise. Age does funny things to your memories. It’s the earliest ones, they stay the clearest. Some days I forget what happened last week. Couldn’t remember where I’d put my keys five minutes ago. But ask me what I did that summer when I was nine years old and I could tell you in total clarity” he sighed “and I’m barely fifty. What it must be like for your…" he trailed off "what do you mean?" I said, feeling the ground fall away "my visions. The future…" "they aren't visions. And they aren’t the future” he said "they're memories. They’re all the things you've done over the centuries - the millenia. All the people you've been. All the lives you've lead" "lives?" I echoed. I started to feel it then, the visions. The dreams. The memories. Not other lives. Not really. Still me. Always me. Forever. With each revelation I felt new ones surfacing, whole icebergs of memory that threatened the fragile ship of my sanity. The century when I had ruled over most of south America. The wilderness years after I’d lost the Chen war. The cannibal times. All of them slammed into me one by one. "it’s not something I'd wish on anyone" said my father sadly “immortality. No wonder you chose to come here” "this is a gift you have" hissed the girl, her face transfigured with hate for my father “a gift that can be used to make the world great again. To lift us up from barbarism…." "I think we've had enough of all that" said my father “too many tyrants make that promise only to deliver more barbarity” "you would say that" snarled the girl "you, who keeps him prisoner. Who lies to him everyday. Who keeps him in this make believe world. Who treats him like a child…" "yeah" I said, knotting my forehead "why'd you do that? Why'd you keep me in school and all that crap if I’m really this super immortal guy?" "oh son” said dad "you always forget, don't you? It was you who designed all this. You who got us all to play these roles. Who made us pretend to be people who’ve been dead for a thousand years or more. Who designed the school and all the houses. Even the plants. There haven't been plants and trees like this on earth for, oh, hundreds of years. You aren't a prisoner of anyone" he gestured about him "this is all your doing. This is your home. You made all this. Its not a prison, it’s a shrine. To you. To your childhood, long gone as it is. We play along because we love you. Because we’re the last of your adoring congregation" "no…no that can't be true" I said “i''d remember" "you do" he replied "and then you forget" "but…but you're my dad" "yes, I know" he said kindly "and before I was your dad it was my uncle who was your dad for, oh, about thirty years. And then before then it was his grandfather. Ten generations we've served you in this place. Ten generations pretending to be a man so long lost to history we don’t even know his name. all we know is somehow he produced you, and he made enough of an impression that even know you remember everything about him" "but…but this is my home. I remember it all clearly. I remember…" "like I said, memory loss is funny" said my father, almost conversationally to me and the girl "it’s the most recent events that go first. The earliest memories that last. Your memories of this place have lasted longer than all the countries of the world and all the human beings that ever lived – except you, of course. You’ve outlasted everything" "no… no this can't be true" I said, looking at my arms and hands. They didn’t look any different to normal or any different to the other children in my class "look, I'm just a teenager. I couldn’t have designed any of this. I failed art class” I gulped as I looked at my father, his face swam but it was just the tears in my eyes and I wanted to tell him his name but suddenly I couldn’t remember it. He was dad, just dad “this is my home…” "don't listen Anton" said the girl, grabbing me and pulling up towards the trees “he can’t stop you... he knows that. His words are pointless. You have a destiny. We need you to rule us. The world has fallen apart without you” “is it like he said?” I asked the girl, feeling her pull me forward “did I really do those things? Fight all those wars? Kill all those people?” “the past doesn’t matter” she said “it’s the future that is important. There are people out there who need you, who are just waiting for the chance to have something worth dying for. This is what we need. Enough of stagnation, people grown fat with peace and plenty…” I stumbled forward, my mind blurred in memory. The things I had done. The people I had enslaved. What world even still existed out there? I had memories of blasted heathland and ruined towerblocks running right to the horizon. Of skinny people with scared eyes, all the zealotry burned out of them by centuries of war. Did I want to bring that down on them again? Could I ruin the world a second time? “no. No I don’t think I want…” I began “you have to!” said the girl eyeing my father, who had not moved to follow us “this is no time for sentiment. The world out there needs a strong leader. It needs passions and it needs you to lead them. Otherwise it’s all senile old men like him” “they don’t need me” I said, thinking of the adoring crowds with a sickening feeling in my stomach. How they had all called out to me, even as they died in my name. Till all that were left were a few hundred where there once had been millions. Even then they had been willing to die for me. It was only my weariness with all the destruction that had saved them. “they don’t know what they need” said the girl “they’re like cattle. Leave them be and they’ll breed aimlessly for aeons, pretending that happiness is families and a full belly. You are destiny, you are purpose. You are greatness” “and that’s why I’m not going” I said, reaching a decision – or the memory of a past one. There was a reason I had retired here and built this shrine to my childhood. It wasn’t just that my memory had been going. It was that I’d grown tired of the wars and the conquests, of the throwing armies against each other like children’s toys. A millennia of life had brought me many things but it hadn’t brought me the kind of happiness that being just an ordinary kid in an ordinary town ever could. And it certainly hadn’t brought happiness to the millions who had died because of me. "My Lord, wait!" began the girl as I turned and began to stump down the hill. I stopped with a view over the town. The town that had vanished into dust a thousand years earlier but that I had meticulously rebuilt. It could do with a lick of paint, but it wasn’t bad for someone who’d never had the knack for art. "I don't think so" I heard my father say as the girl tried to come close to me "what? You'd decide what was best for the immortal?” she screamed at him “You'd choose for a god?" "he's already chosen" my father said "he's chosen peace and retirement. Chosen to give the world a chance to live without warring gods and immortal kings. We should respect that choice" "and what if we don't want to?" growled the girl "you don't get to make that decision" said my father “you don't remember what it was like, none of us do. There are records. Mass graves and bomb craters where cities had stood. Irradiated wastelands covering half a continent. I'm not going to let that happen again" I looked up to see the knife in my father’s hand and for a horrible minute I thought it was for me. Then I remembered the enemies I’d bested in the past, the blades they’d buried in me to no avail. And I remembered that my father and his people had sworn to serve me for the rest of time. To serve me in whatever form I chose. So when he turned to the girl I looked away. “I’m sorry” I said, looking over the village while the man who was not my father murdered the girl who wanted to make me a monster again “I didn’t want to do this. But it’s a mercy” I didn’t say who it was a mercy for. Not for the girl bleeding out on the grass on the hill. Perhaps not even for me, an old senile god living in a fake town surrounded by fake people. But for the remnants of the human race that lived out there. They deserved a chance for peace, to be free of great destinies and leaders and gods. Then when my father was done and the girl safely buried I started back down the hill. If I hurried I could play a bit of footie and then it was double English. I liked English because I was sat near Lindy Liu and if I leaned back just right I could almost see down her top. And I knew that by the time I got there all memories of the girl and my genocidal centuries would be gone, and only innocent childhood remain.

#sf #immortals

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