Back to talking about the Fantasy Fandom and the racism that tends to be part of it!
I genuinely think if Wyll were white he'd get way more attention and love. He'd have sparkle flower crown edits saying "My sweet cornball!!" "My boys got daddy issues!!". Also Warlock is a class beloved by many. And as someone who plays a warlock in bg3 having two of them fucking ROCKED, I always had spells at the ready. So really saying "buh! buh! two warlocks is just bad!" its really not, short rests and cantrips out the asshole really make it easy.
Anyway.
If Gale were black he would be fully ignored and people would, in masses, complain about how annoying he is, how useless he is, how he doesn't really fit in with the rest of the "way more interesting cast". How he's so unbearably straight because all he talks about is his ex.
Lemme keep on this though because if Shadowheart was a Black Person she would have been fucking Crucified for the way she talks about other races, other religions, and just in general the way you have to pull information out of her like pulling teeth. Also if she were a black woman she'd be reduced to "uncaring boss bitch who "dont need no man"" or "unbarable bitch who needs to be Killed"
Am I getting my point across enough?
Wyll was shafted by the game by having literally less content than the rest of the party. Wyll DOES have an interesting story. Wyll is also corny, he's funny, he's so sweet, and his conversations with Karlach are soooo great and yet it's all abandoned because he's generally viewed as "boring".
And by the way. You are allowed to like and dislike characters. But I see a lot of people side stepping the Fantasy Racism to say "but hes just boring thats why I dont like him". Like sure, if you gave Wyll an honest chance and still found him boring then that's your opinion and choice! HOWEVER!! We CANNOT ignore that he is being LEFT OUT of edits, of fan art, of character discussions. When I see posts that are the entire cast MINUS Wyll it tells me everything I need to know about you.
Also one last thing... I cannot imagine being Wyll's VA and seeing how many times you are being left out on purpose. How so few add your character to edits, or fan art. It has to be crushing to some extent, even if you expected it.
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FEBUWHUMP | KILLING IN SELF-DEFENSE | WC: 999
a/n: Set in that AU where Sorahiko (Prime Torino) time-travels to AFO and Yoichi's childhood and manages with his B+ parenting skills. TW for ableist language (used in context of this being a very anti-Quirk era) and, well, Sorahiko knifing the guy.
//
If it had been Nana or Toshinori in this position, Sorahiko muses, they would have had a tougher time getting accustomed to the sheer brutality of the era. Their present isn’t perfect, but they at least have the economy and government in working order. This is just chaos, through and through.
People lie, cheat, and steal to make it through the day, and Sorahiko genuinely has no idea how the country’s still managing an influx of goods when it seems like the world is too busy imploding to maintain a trade network.
Not his problem.
He’s got two children to mind. Food and shelter, that’s what he promised them, and he aims to deliver. The latter is a broken-down residential building, empty of any permanent legal inhabitants because of the roaming mobs and people like Sorahiko (squatters).
And as for the former, well. Sorahiko’s working on it.
“You kids want to go to the countryside?” he asks idly. Against his better judgment, he’s had to let them follow him outside the building, because the probability of Chibi-AFO taking his absence as permission to run away is much, much higher than zero. Sorahiko carries the smaller boy on his hip, and Chibi-AFO has the dubious honor of sitting on his shoulders.
He left the uniform at home, opting for a beat-up denim jacket over his black turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers. The boys have been scrubbed clean(ish), and dressed in better clothes (though when Chibi-AFO’s base standard is a repurposed garbage bag, anything is a massive improvement).
Wandering down a street in broad daylight would have had them clocked as a family. Sorahiko uncomfortably represses the weird twist of his gut, in favor of being grateful that it’s the dead of night, as they are looking for a convenience store to rob.
“What’s that?” the smaller boy asks.
“The countryside? It’s outside the city. Quiet, if you don’t count the bugs, but pretty boring after a while. Lots of green. Probably better food.”
“No,” Chibi-AFO mutters into his hair. “Don’t wanna go.”
He sighs. Part of him--the city boy who much preferred streets of asphalt and plenty of high buildings--agrees with the toddler. The rest of him thinks that Chibi-AFO is simply being contrary.
Ever since they discovered that Sorahiko can’t be affected by his Quirk-stealing power (it was a downright relief to know that Jet wouldn’t disappear in the middle of the night; it was absolutely hilarious to see Chibi-AFO’s face as his last murder attempt failed to spear Sorahiko’s shin, bouncing off like the black energy was made of rubber), Chibi-AFO’s been pouty and prone to temper tantrums. The smaller boy is awed to see Sorahiko survive every time.
“It’s nicer in the summer,” he says.
“Why?”
Sorahiko considers his memories of going to his grandparents’ house as a child. The backyard garden, the forest surrounding the mountain village, the many terrifyingly large bugs that found cozy homes in his blankets… He clears his throat. “Because it’s worse in the winter.”
“That’s not an answer!”
“Well, what do you know,” Sorahiko drawls, hitching the smaller boy a little higher. “You’re just a baby. I know a lot more than you.”
The specifics of what the boys seemed to know and understand about the world, their life, or even each other remains a total mystery to Sorahiko. They haven’t given him names yet, and he’s not inclined to do anything like renaming them. They don’t know how old they are, and they don’t know the name of the city they were wandering in. They can’t read, and they certainly don’t know how to write.
Chibi-AFO digs his tiny gremlin fingers into Sorahiko’s hair. “Not babies,” he mutters, and Sorahiko is about to jostle the kid when, of all the times and places, a man staggers out of an alley ahead, spots them, and brandishes a familiar whistle.
“Metas,” he snarls.
Sorahiko makes several rapid calculations. The man is sober, not drunk. That means Sorahiko can’t rely on inflicting a simple head concussion to compound any memory issues. Chibi-AFO is tense on his shoulders, and the smaller boy has instinctively made himself smaller, even as he clutches one of his brother’s ankles.
“Move even once,” he hears himself snarl back, “and I’ll make sure it’s your last. We’re just on a walk.”
“Diseased freaks shouldn’t be allowed out of the quarantine zones,” the man says, and he pulls out a knife too. Then, like a true fanatic, he goes to blow the whistle in order to flag a squad of Meta X-ers to gather.
Sorahiko crouches down and pries the smaller boy’s clinging hands off, wrenches Chibi-AFO off along with his jacket. The shrill call of the whistle sings in the previously quiet night; Sorahiko catches both boys in the jacket and squeezes their shoulders, stares hard at them.
“This’ll be quick,” he promises, and whips around at the sound of rubber soles hitting asphalt.
Knife raised. The man is mid-lunge. Sorahiko pounces with a burst of Jet, tackles him back, wrestling the knife out of the now desperate grip. The man writhes under him, like he’s just realized that he’s picked a fight against a Meta with teeth. Insults spill out of the man’s mouth, filthy enough that Sorahiko sees red when he takes the wooden handle and pins his opponent to the ground by the throat.
How many Meta X-ers are in the area? Does Sorahiko have enough time to smash and grab a few containers of instant noodles before they need to flee to the roofs? Why are people so stupid--
“White hair,” the man wheezes, and Sorahiko redoubles his grip on the knife. He wishes the man would just shut up and preserve his own life. He wishes he hadn’t brought the boys along. “White hair, light eyes, two kids. White hair… light eyes… two kids…!”
Sorahiko plunges the knife down, and hears the man manage one more, “Monster!” before sharpened steel pierces flesh and bone.
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The majority of sejanus analysis I see falls into this trap of simply critizing characters for not being completely rational actors which happens a lot with media analysis. Think "they both could have fit on the door!" brand of almost cinema sins-esq story analysis.
Which I could get into how I absolutely hate that style of media critique because it so often boils to asking "why is this story happening at all!?"
"Why does gothel keep Rapunzel so close to her kingdom why not run away to a different country" because then this story wouldn't be happening at all, man. I don't know what to tell you.
But to keep this focused on Sejanus and how so much criticism is just "he's too irrational" I think miss completely miss the mark. Obviously I think there's a lot of misinterpretation of characters (their motivations, emotions, intent and so on) due to Coriolanus beings an incredibly unreliable narrator, and people tend to just skim over how young and vulnerable Sejanus is. (He is 17-18 and actively suicidal to say the least.)
But Sejanus isn't irrational, or well, he is, but no more than anyone else in the story. I often see "he should have changed the system from within" as a critique for his character, and sure you can absolutely think that. But the issue wasn't he wasn't thinking ahead or that he was just too emotional and irrational to see the merit in that. Thinking he couldn't understand the value of playing along fundamentally misses what asking to play the long con is asking Sejanus to do.
He would have to stomach going along with the games, staying silent, working in a city with slaves, and watching every year as children get massacred. Asking him to wait it out until he has enough power is asking him to not just stomach capitol cruelty but actively participate within it. Sejanus doesn't make choices out of just pure emotion but a sense of right and wrong. He is a character completely guided by his morals, and one that is constantly punished because of it. People say "He should have used his money to change things" He tried to, in the story, explicitly. And Coriolanus killed him for it.
Yes, using only his morals as a guiding light resulted in his death. Yes, if he played along he might have been able to change things for the better. But what it really comes down to is this, Sejanus refused to play the capitol's game, refused to let them make him something he's not. And he died for it. Kind of reminds you of another character in the franchise huh.
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