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unpopularwiththepopulace · 3 years

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Don’t I Get a Dream for Myself ? – Bernadette Peters and the 'Gypsy' Saga

Gypsy. It’s perhaps the most daunting of all of the projects related to Bernadette Peters to try to grapple with and discuss. It’s also perhaps the most significant.

For someone notoriously guarded of her privacy and personal life, careful with her words, and selective of the questions she answers, the narrative around this show provides some of the most meaningful insights it is possible to derive in relation to Bernadette herself. The show’s ability to do this is unique, through the way it eerily parallels her own life and spans a large range in time from both Bernadette Peters the Broadway Legend, right back to where it all began with Bernadette Lazzara, the young Italian girl put into showbusiness by her mother.

The most logical place to start is at the very beginning – it is a very good place to start, after all.

(Though no one tell Gypsy this, if the fierce two-way battle with The Sound of Music at the 1960 Tony Awards is anything to be remembered. Anyway, I digress…)

Gypsy: A Musical Fable with music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and book by Arthur Laurents, burst into the world and onto the New York stage in May of 1959. After closing on Broadway in March 1961, Ethel Merman as the world’s original Mama Rose herself led the first national tour off almost immediately around the country. Just a few months later, a second national touring company was formed, starring Mitzi Green and then Mary McCarty as Rose, to cover more cities than the original. It is here that Bernadette comes in.

A 13-year-old Bernadette Peters found herself part of this show in her “first professional” on-the-road production, travelling across the country with her older sister, “Donna (who was also in the show), and their mother (who wasn’t)”.

The tour played through cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, New Haven, Baltimore and Las Vegas before closing in Ohio in 1962. Somewhat uncannily, its September 1961 opening night in Detroit’s Schubert Theatre even returns matters full circle to the 2003 revival and New York’s own Schubert Theatre.

Indeed this bus-and-truck tour was somewhat of a turning point for Bernadette. She’d later remember, “I mostly thought of performing as a hobby until I went on the road with Gypsy”.

But while this production seminally marked a notable moment for the young actress as well as the point where her long and consequential involvement with Gypsy begins, it’s important to recognise she was very much not yet the star of the show and then only a small part of a larger whole.

Bernadette was with the troupe as a member of the ensemble. She took on different positions in the company through the period of nearly a year that the show ran for, including billing as ‘Thelma’ (one of the Hollywood Blondes), ‘Hawaiian Girl’, and additional understudy credits for Agnes and Dainty June.

The above photo shows Bernadette (left) with another member of the ensemble (Sharon McCartin) backstage at the Chicago Opera House as one of the stops along the tour. Her comment on the stage of the Chicago theatre – “I’d never seen anything so big in my life!” – undeniably conveys how her experiences were new and appreciably daunting.

Along the tour, she assumed centre-stage once or twice as the understudy for Dainty June, but playing the young star was not her main role. Unlike what more dominant memory of the story seems to purport.

Main credits of June went instead to Susie Martin – a name and a tale of truth-bending that’s now well-known from Bernadette’s concert anecdotes. While performing her solo shows as an adult and singing from Gypsy, Bernadette has often been known to take a moment to penitently atone for historical indiscretions of identity theft or erasure where her mother long ago conveniently left out the “understudy” descriptive when putting down Dainty June on her resumé, in an effort to add weight to the teenager’s list of credits.

Whatever happened to Susie Martin? – many have wondered. Well, she soon left the theatre. But not before appearing in two more regional productions of Gypsy and a 1963 Off-Broadway revival of Best Foot Forward with Liza Minnelli and Christopher Walken.

Bernadette too went on to other regional productions of Gypsy. She spent the summer of 1962 in various summer stock stagings with The Kenley Players, like in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and this time she did indeed get to play June.

Above shows photos from different programmes for these productions. While some may have featured odd forms of photo editing, they at least also bring to attention Rose here being played by none other than Betty Hutton.

The two women couldn’t have been in more different positions when they coalesced in these rough-around-the-edges, small-scale productions. A young Bernadette was broaching summer stock in starting to take on bigger roles in the ascendency to her bright and long career. Meanwhile, Betty found herself there while navigating the descent that followed her sharp but fickle rise to Hollywood fame in the ‘40s and early ‘50s. Top billing Monday, Tuesday you really are touring in stock after all.

While details aren’t plentiful for these productions, it was recounted Betty apparently struggled in performing the role. And understandably so. Following the recent traumatic death of her mother in a house fire, and the birth of her third child shortly before the shows began, it’s not hard to see why her mind might have been elsewhere. Still, she was apparently impressed enough by the younger actress who turned in one of the show’s “creditable performances” to make comment that she would’ve liked Bernadette to play her if a movie were made about her life.

Bernadette might not have done this exactly, but she did go on to revitalise Betty’s best-known movie role, when stepping into Annie Oakley’s shoes in the 1999 Annie Get Your Gun revival. With Bernadette’s first Ethel Merman show under her belt, the ball was soon rolling on her second.

The 2003 production of Gypsy was imminently beckoning as her next successive Broadway musical and it was Arthur Laurents who lit the match to spark Bernadette’s involvement. Laurents, as the show’s original librettist, drove the revival by saying he “didn’t want to see the same Rose” he’d seen before. Going back to June Havoc’s description of her mother as “small” and a “mankiller”, and Arthur’s take that Bernadette sung the part “with more nuance for the lyrics and the character than the others”, the choice of Bernadette was justified. Moreover, “Laurents – whose idea it was to hire her – [said] going against type is exactly the point,” and Sam Mendes, as director, qualified “the tradition of battle axes in that role has been explored”.

So Bernadette also had her own baseline of innate physical similarity to the original Rose Hovick, in addition to her own first-hand memories of the women she’d acted alongside as Rose in her youth to bring into her characterisation of the infamous stage mother.

But there was a third factor beyond those as well to be considered in the personal material she had access to draw from for her characterisation. Namely, her own real life stage mother.

Marguerite Lazzara did share traits with the character of Rose. She too helped herself to silverware from restaurants, and put her daughters in showbusiness for the vicarious thrill. Marguerite had “always wanted to become an actress herself”, but had long been denied her desire by her own mother, who likened actresses to being as “close to a whore as you could be without, you know, getting on your back”.

In that case, to “escape a housewife’s dreary fate in Ozone Park”, Marguerite channelled her latent dream through her pair of young daughters instead, shepherding them out along the road. Thus was produced a trio of the two children ushered around the theatre circuit by the driven mother, forming an undeniable parallelism and a mirror image of both Bernadette’s reality and Gypsy’s core itself. Bernadette didn’t see some of these familial parallels at the time when she was a child, considering “maybe I didn’t want to see” – “didn’t want to see a mother doing that to her daughter”.

It was coming back to the show as an adult that helped Bernadette resolve who her mother was and some of the motivations that had propelled her when Bernadette was still a child. She realised, “I think she thought she was going to die very young”, as her own father died young. So “she was rushing around to get as much of her life as she could in there”.

When she herself returned to the production in playing Rose, Bernadette conceded to sometimes bringing elements of her mother and her driven energy into her portrayal, and admitted too she looked “like her a lot in the role”. You can assess any familial resemblances for yourself, from the images below that show a young Marguerite next to Bernadette in costume as Rose, and then with the pair backstage in 1961 in a dressing room on the tour.

Marguerite was ambitious. From her own personal position and with the restrictions imposed upon her, it was ambition that materialised through her children. Irrevocably, she altered them. She placed Bernadette on TV as a very young child (“I was four when my mother put me in the business”); changed her daughter’s surname (“She told me my real name was too long for the marquees,” or really – “too Italian”); doctored her resumé (“Somehow the word ‘understudy’ vanished. ‘No one will know,’ said Marguerite”); and lightened her hair (“She’d say, ‘Oh, I’m just putting a little conditioner on it.’ But slowly my hair got blonder and blonder!”). All in the hope of giving her child a more favourable chance at the life she’d always wanted for herself.

On paper, a classic stage mother. “When I was a kid, she fulfilled herself through me,” Bernadette would say. “She put me into show business so she could get a taste of the life herself.”

But it’s important to consider Bernadette often qualifies that her mother wasn’t as brutal as Rose, nor was she herself as traumatised as June.

Bernadette didn’t begrudge her mother for her choices – at least by the time she was an adult, she’d rationalised them, explaining “naturally it was more exciting [for her] to go on the road with me than staying home and keeping house”.

As a child, Bernadette hadn’t necessarily wanted to be on stage, but there was a sense of ambivalence – not resentful belligerence – as she “didn’t care one way or the other” when she found herself there.

Like June, Bernadette may have been entered into and coaxed around a path she hadn’t voluntarily chosen. But unlike June, Bernadette had a deal with her mother that “she had only to say the word”, and she could leave.

Most crucially, she never did.

But that’s not to say Bernadette was enamoured with acting from the beginning.

She seemed to feel ‘outside’ of that world and those in it. And others saw it too.

It was in 1961 in Gypsy that Bernadette first met Marvin Laird – her long-time accompanist, conductor and arranger. The way he put it, he “noticed this one young girl, very close with her mother” who, during breaks, “didn’t mix much with the other girls”.

Beneath the effervescent stage persona, there’s a quieter and more reserved reality, and a sense of separation and solitary division.

When asked by Jesse Green in 2003 for the extensive profile in The New York Times if she thought her experiences on the road in Gypsy were good for her at that age, she gives a curious, somewhat abstract, predominantly dark, potentially macabre, response. He wrote:

She doesn’t answer at first but seems to scan an image bank just behind her eyes for something to lock onto. Eventually she comes out with a seeming non sequitur. “I didn’t know how to swim. I remember, in Las Vegas, I fell in, once, and they thought I was flailing, but I felt like: ‘It’s pretty down here!’ I might have been dying and I was thinking: ‘Look at the pretty color!’ And suddenly my fear of water was gone, and I could have stayed in forever.” After a while, I realize she’s answered my question. Then she dismisses the image: “But I had to get my hair dry for the show that day, so up I came.”

I’m still not entirely sure I know what she’s trying to convey here. My interpretation of this anecdote changes as I have re-visited and re-examined it on multiple occasions at different time points. It’s arguably multiply polysemic.

Was she simply swept up in a moment of childlike distraction, lost in the temporary respite alone away from the usual noise and clamour? Was she indicating comprehension that her feelings and perspectives came secondary to any practical necessities and inevitable responsibilities? Was she using the water to depict a muffling and fishbowl-like detachment from others her age who got to live more ‘ordinary’ lives in the ‘normal’ world above that she felt separate from? Was she referencing the pretty colours she saw as a metaphor for show business and how she became bewitched by them even despite potential dangers? Was she trying to legitimately drown herself, or at least exhibiting an ambivalence again as to whether she lived or died, because of what the highly pressurised demands on her felt like?

The underlying sentiment through her response in answer to Green’s primary question was that, in essence – no. Being a child actor was not “over all, a good experience for a youngster”.

Acting might have been something she fell in love with over time, but not all at once, not right from the beginning, and not without noting its perils.

It was a matter of accidental circumstance that landed Bernadette in the show business world to begin with at such a young age in the first place – “I just found myself here,” she would offer.

Her mother, who was “always crazy about the stage”, “insisted” that her sister, Donna take lessons in singing, dancing and acting.

A further point of interest to note is that, although it was Bernadette with her new surname who would grow up to be the famous actress, look to the cast lists from the 1961 touring production of Gypsy that featured both sisters in the company (see photo below) and you’ll find no ‘Lazzara’ in sight. Donna too, appearing under the novel moniker of “Donna Forbes”, had also already become stagified (nay, ethnically neutralised?) by her mother. As such it is clearly demonstrated that Marguerite’s intention at that point was to make stars of both her daughters. Correspondingly so, when her sister returned from her performance lessons some years before, “Donna would come home and teach me what she had learned,” Bernadette remembered. She may have gotten her “training second hand”, but the key element was that she got it.

For Bernadette, it was a short jump from emulating magpied tricks from her sister as well as routines from Golden Age Busby Berkeley musicals on the ‘Million Dollar Movie’ in front of the TV screen, to her mother getting her on the other side of the screen and actually performing on TV itself – belting out Sophie Tucker impressions aged five for all the nation to see.

The photos below show Bernadette in performative situations at a young age (look for criss-crossed laces in the second for identification).

“At first, as a toddler, Bernadette enjoyed performing; it came naturally, a form of play that people inexplicably liked to watch.” It was “just a hobby” and she “wanted to do it”.

But while she may not have detested it, she didn’t entirely comprehend what was going on either. “I didn’t even know I was on TV,” she said. “I didn’t know that those big gadgets pointed at me were cameras and that they had anything to do with what people saw on the television set.”

When she started gaining more of an awareness of how “such play [was being] co-opted for commercial purposes”, she grew less enthralled. “She didn’t care for the bizarre children, accompanied by desperate mothers, she began to see at auditions: ‘They spent their whole time smiling for no reason, you know?’”

Being a child who had become sentient of being a child performer began to grow wearisome and grating to the young girl who had her equity card, a professional (and strange, new) stage name, and an increasingly long list of expectations by the time she was nine. There’s a keen sense she did not enjoy being in such a position: “I wouldn’t want to be a child again. When you’re a child, you have thoughts, but nobody listens to you. Nobody has any respect for you”.

Gypsy did indeed mark a turning point for Bernadette as mentioned above – but not just in the way that seems obvious. Looking back at it now, it does appear the monumental turning point at which she started appearing in significant and reputable productions, beginning what would be the foundation to her ‘professional’ career. However it was also the turning point after which she nearly quit the business altogether.

When she returned from performing in Gypsy, Bernadette felt like she’d had enough. One way of putting it was that she “then retired from the business to attend high school”, wanting to have some semblance of a normal scholastic experience “without the interruptions”. But whatever dissatisfaction she was feeling as an early adolescent on stage, she didn’t resolve at school – going as far as saying that while at Quintano’s School for Young Professionals, “she was in pain”.

“When you’re a teenager you’re too aware of yourself,” she recalled. Being a teen and trying to come to terms with of the expectation of the ‘60s that “you are supposed to look like Twiggy, and you don’t, you feel everything is wrong about you”. Everything “was all about tall, skinny, no chest…[and] hair straight”. Little Bernadette with her “mass of [curly] hair and distracting bosom”, as Alex Witchel put it, was never going to fit that mould. “That was not me,” she stated. “At all.”

Her self-consciousness grew to the point that it became overwhelming and asphyxiating. “I was trying desperately to blend in and be normal, but that doesn’t allow creativity to come out,” Bernadette said. “I knew I was acting terrible. The words were sticking in my mouth and all I could think about was how I looked”. It was hard enough just to look at herself (“I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror”), let alone to have other people gawk at her on stage. So she stopped trying. She “didn’t work much from age 13 to 17” in the slightest. Bernadette would later reflect in 1981 in an atypically open and vulnerable interview, “I was very insecure. Insecurity is poison. It’s like wearing chains”.

It was a combination of factors that helped her overcome these feelings of such toxic and weighty burden to draw her back into the public world of performing and the stage. “The two people who helped her most, she says, were David LeGrant, her first acting teacher, and her vocal coach, Jim Gregory.” Jim helped with “[opening] a whole creative world for [her] with singing”; and it was David who’d give her the now infamous and often (mis)quoted line about individuality and being yourself.

Having these kinds of lessons, she reasoned, was “really a wonderful emotional outlet for a kid of 17”. The process of it all was beneficial for her therapeutically – “you have a lot of emotions at that time in your life, and it was great to go to an acting class and use them up”. And Bernadette felt freer on stage than she did out on her own in the ‘real world’, saying “[up there] I don’t have to worry about what I’m doing or saying because I’m doing and saying what I’m supposed to be doing and saying”.

Finally then and with considerable bolstering and support, she grew comfortable with the notion of being visible on stage and in public, and realised she was never going to blend in as part of the chorus so it was simply better to let go of such a futile pursuit.

David LeGrant’s guiding advice to Bernadette (“You’ve got to be original, because if you’re like everyone else, what do they need you for?”) wasn’t just a trite aphorism. For her, it was a life raft. It was the key mental framing device that allowed her to comprehend for the first time that she might actually have intrinsic value as herself. And that it was imperative she let herself use it.

She had always stuck out, yes, but she had to learn how to want to be seen – talking of it as a conscious “choice” she had to make when realising she did “have something to offer”.

Thus soon after Bernadette graduated, she stepped back into productions like in summer stock and then Off-Broadway as she made her debut at that next theatrical level at 18. It wasn’t long before she was discovered in what’s seen as her big break in the unexpected smash hit, Dames at Sea. And so Bernadette Peters, the actress, was back. And she was back with impact and force.

Besides, as she’s also said, she couldn’t do anything else – “if I ever had to do something else to earn a living, I’d be at a total loss”. An aptitude test as a teenager told her so apparently, when she “got minus zero in everything except Theater Arts”. So that was that. Her answer for what she would’ve done if she’d never found acting is both paradoxically exultant and macabre – “I don’t know, probably shot myself!”

Flippant? Maybe. Trivial? No.

Acting is thus undoubtedly related highly to Bernadette’s sense of purpose and self-worth. This is what makes it even more apparent that a show with such personal and historical connections for her, as in Gypsy, was going to be so consequential and impactful to be a part of again as an adult and perform on a public stage.

She’s called inhabiting the role of Rose in the 2003 revival many things: “deeply personal”, “life changing”, “like going through therapy” – to name a few.

In interviews regarding Gypsy and playing the main character, when asked what she had learnt, Bernadette would frequently say something like, “It taught me a lot”. Pressed further about specifics, her answers often hem close to vague platitudes as she maintains her normal tendency of endeavouring to keep her privacy close to her chest.

On one occasion, she actually elaborated somewhat on what she’d learnt, giving a fuller answer than the question is normally afforded anyhow. Beyond all it revealed to her about her mother, she extended to admitting “my capacity for love and my capacity for anger” as aspects in her that the show had permanently altered. Moreover, Rose to her was undoubtedly the “most rewarding and fulfilling acting experience” she had ever had.

But while such deep, personal and emotional depths and memories were being stirred up beneath the surface in private, she was getting vilified in public singularly and repeatedly by New York Post columnist, Michael Riedel.

Even before she’d set foot on stage, Riedel set forth in motion early in the 2003 season a campaign of vocal and opinionated defamation against Bernadette as Rose that she was miscast, insufficiently talented, and would be incapable of executing the role.

Too small, too delicate, too weak, too many curves (and too much knowledge of how to use them). Not bold enough, not loud enough – not Merman enough. Chatter and speculative dissent begun to grow in and around the Broadway theatres.

For such a prestigious and historic musical theatre role, it was always going to be hard to erase the large shadow of an original Merman mould. Ethel was woven into the very fabric of the show, with the rights to Gypsy Rose Lee’s memoirs being obtained at her behest in the first place, and the idiosyncrasies of her voice having been written into the songs themselves by their very authors.

To step out from such a domineering legacy would be a marked challenge at the best of times. Let alone when battling a respiratory infection.

Matters of public perception were certainly not helped when Bernadette then got ill as the show started its preview period and she started missing early performances.

Nor did it help with critical perception that the Tony voting period coincided so synchronously with Gypsy’s first opening months – giving Bernadette no time to recover, find her feet, and settle more healthily into the show for the rest of the run before the all important decisions were made by that omnipotent committee.

The tale of her illness is actually undercut by a more innocent and unsuspecting origin than you’d expect from all the drama and trouble it engendered. Bernadette decided nearing the show’s opening to treat herself to a manicure. In the salon, she was next to a woman very close to her with a frightful sounding cough. Who could’ve known then that this anonymous and inconspicuous lady through a fateful cause-and-event chain would go on to play such a part in what is among the biggest and most enduring Tony Awards “She was robbed!” discourses? Or even more broadly – in also arguably playing a hand in the closure and financial failure of an $8.5 million Broadway show after its disappointing performance at the Tony Awards that ominously “[spelled] trouble at the box office” and led to its premature demise?

Bernadette did not win the Best Actress in a Musical Tony that night on June 6th 2004. The award went instead (not un-controversially) to newcomer Marissa Jaret Winokur for Hairspray.

She did however give one of the most indelibly resonant and frequently re-referenced solo performances at the awards show just before she lost – defying detractors to comprehend how she could be unworthy of the accolade with a rendition of ‘Rose’s Turn’ that has apocryphally earned one of the longest standing ovations seen after such a performance even to date.

Even further and even more apocryphally, she reportedly did so while still under the weather as legend as circulated by musical theatre fans goes – performing “against doctor’s orders” with stories that have her being “afflicted with anything from a 103-degree fever, to pneumonia, to a collapsed lung”.

Seeing then as unfortunately there is no Tony Award speech to draw on here, matter shall be retrieved fittingly from that which she gave just a few years earlier in 1999 for her first win and previous Ethel Merman role in Annie Get Your Gun to wrap all of this together.

As has been illustrated, there are many arguably scary or alarming aspects in Bernadette’s Gypsy narrative. There’s undeniably much darkness and an ardent clamouring for meaning and self-realisation along the road that tracks her journey parallel to the show. But unlike Rose’s hopeless decries of “Why did I do it?” and “What did it get me?”, there was a point for Bernadette.

As her emotional tribute in 1999 went: “I want to thank my mother, who 48 years ago put me in showbusiness. And I want to finally, officially, say to her – thank you. For giving me this wonderful experience and this journey.”

Whatever all of this was, maybe it was worth it after all.

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kuroopaisen · 3 years

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cause & effect || chapter 4

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. to say you’re surprised is an understatement. but, for some stupid reason, you agreed to it.

warnings: f!reader, alcohol

wc: 2.1k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4 ↠ ch. 5

You sip the hot sake with a grimace. It’s not bad per se, just… different.

For a restaurant whose whole gimmick was hot sake, you’re surprised it clashes so much with your meal. But at least it brought you a little warmth.

Kuroo’s having as strange a time as you are. Each sip of his sake is accommodated with a grimace. Somehow, it makes him look a couple years younger.

Your legs are tucked under the futon attached to your table, but admittedly there’s not much room. Kuroo’s legs are far too long and the kotatsu much too cramped.

“Give me some room, would you?” You grin, nudging him with your knee.

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles, adjusting himself.

This isn’t the first fake date you’ve been on with Kuroo. Well, they weren’t dates – not technically. The purpose of them was to get to know each other better; something you’d both agreed was important if you were going to pull this whole thing off.

You’d never really thought about it before, but there’s a lot of mundane information shared in relationships. Things you might not think to mention to other people, or even things you haven’t told anyone else. Not that you were saying any of that to each other – you just need to be convincingly close.

You are going to meet his family, after all.

“So,” you sigh, setting your cup on the kotatsu, “you lived with your dad, your grandmother, and your grandfather?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“And I need to stay on my toes around them?”

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Chances are they’ll tease the hell out of you if they get comfortable enough.”

“Great,” you chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiles. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You sure?”

“Chances are they’ll tell you you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you smirk, taking another sip of sake.

Kuroo scoffs. “Brutal!”

You’re not sure if he can tell you’re lying. He’s handsome, clever, and witty enough to be entertaining. You’d feel lucky to have a guy like him look your way.

Oh well, you think as you place your hands in your lap. You’re quite happy to keep that thought to yourself. There’s no good reason to feed a man’s ego.

He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. You swear you can hear his bones cracking.

“You sound like an old man,” you grin.

“Look, it’s not my fault the human body is badly designed.”

“Ah, so it’s not your fault for not looking after it properly, hm?” Perhaps he has a point. But you have to make your own fun these days.

“I’ll have you know I take very good care of my body, thank you very much.”

You’re not sure if he intended it to sound so flirtatious, but you blush anyway.

“Your bones say otherwise,” you muse.

“I won’t stand for this abuse,” he grins, standing up. “You ready?”

You follow suit, scampering after him as he approaches the cashier.

As always, he pays. No matter how hard you try to protest, he just smiles and says he feels bad for taking up your evenings.

You don’t know a casual way to say that you actually enjoy these outings.

Your solution is just buy him fancier coffees in the morning.

Kuroo deals with the transaction in the same smooth and charming way he always does, and you’re sure he’s definitely made an imprint on the dear cashier’s memory.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sky is already darkening. The trees that line the street are speckled with fairy lights, already glowing like candles in the dim twilight.

You gaze at them with a tiny sense of wonder. You’ve heard the theory that people made winter a time of celebration to give them something to pull through the dark and the cold for. Maybe that’s true – but there’s always such beauty to be find during wintertime, even if it feels like the tip of your nose is about to fall out.

Fairy lights in a tree are so small, so inconsequential, and yet so human.

You shake your head. That’s the sake talking.

You turn to Kuroo to say something.

He’s peering at you intently, eyes roaming your face.

You blush, unsure what to make of that look. Is there something on your face? “Everything okay?”

“The lighting’s good here.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

Kuroo fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a step towards you and hovering an arm above your shoulders.

“You all good to take a photo?” He asks, and it clicks.

“Oh! Right!” You nod, almost a little too fervently. “Sure.”

He smiles, slinging his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him, tilting your face to what you believe to be your best angle.

Sure, these photos are technically ‘fake’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.

He snaps a couple of photos of the two of you before opening his gallery. The two of you take a moment to observe the handful of images.

The two of you may not really in a relationship, but you’re sure these photos could fool you.

You point at one of them, nodding. “That one looks good.”

Kuroo chuckles, adding it to his favourites. “Thanks.”

He smiles and slips his phone into his pocket as he steps away from you. You miss his warmth more than you should.

“Have they liked the photos?” You ask.

“Loved them,” he grins.

You know Kuroo’s been sending them to his family – with your permission, of course. It’s partly to satiate their desire to intrude on his love life, and also to make it more believable when you finally meet them. You have half a mind to save them to your own phone with how cute they are.

“Oba-chan’s been joking about putting them on the wall.”

You snort. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“She’s desperate,” he grins.

“She must be, if she’s considering omiai.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Ah, she’s just worried about me. She doesn’t want me to be ‘married to my work.’”

“Are you?” You ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God no.”

You laugh as you dig your hands in your pockets.

“I’ve just got a lot going on,” he explains. “I don’t have the time to date.”

“Really?” You tilt your head at him. “You kind of strike me as the kind of guy who’s content to just go home and play dating sims all night.”

Kuroo reels back, a hand on his chest. “You’re joking.”

“I thought you were single because you had some digital waifu or something.”

Kuroo stares at you with an expression of absolute horror. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m just teasing,” you giggle, hopping down the street. “Okay, so if you’re not cuddling up against a body pillow of a scantily clad anime women during those lonely nights, then what do you do with your spare time?”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head as he jogs to catch up with you. “Well, I catch up with my friends a fair bit. Oh, and I’m part of a hobby volleyball club.”

“You play?” You look him up and down. Now that he’s said it, it makes perfect sense.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I take good care of my body,” he grins.

Another glance and you realise – yes, actually, he appears to be taking very good care of his body. Those shoulders look a little broader than you’d first thought.

“Is that why you applied for your job?” You ask. “Personal interest?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

Interesting. “Have you always played?”

“I’ve played for as long as I can remember,” he grins. “Believe it or not, but my high school team actually made it to Nationals. With me as their captain.”

“Wait, really?” You look up at him with wide eyes. Now that was certainly unexpected.

“Sure did.”

“How far did you get?”

Kuroo furrows his brow for a moment. “I think it was something like the top 16?”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” you admit. Your knowledge of sports is perhaps a little lower than might be expected of someone in your position, but you digress. Top 16 in the entire nation is definitely something to be proud of.

“Glad you think so,” he grins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you pursue it professionally?” From your perspective he certainly has the build for it. And if there’s one thing you’re sure of after working next to him for a while now, it’s that he’s clever. A trait that seems to be surprisingly useful on the court.

“There were some real monsters on the teams we faced,” he says, voice languid as ever. “You know about Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, right?”

You nod. Even if your understanding of the sport itself wasn’t particularly advanced, you were well-aware of the top players. That, at least, you’d made an effort to stay up to date with. Also, a lot of them were unfairly attractive – making that task a bit easier to stick to than some of your others.

“We faced them at Nationals,” he glances at you, a new glint in his eye. Maybe it’s nostalgia.

You shiver.

“That genuinely sounds terrifying.”

Kuroo grins. “It was. Oh, and you know Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well, we were friends in high school,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most mundane piece of information you could receive. “Our teams often practiced against one another.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “No way.”

“I have several embarrassing photos of him to prove it,” Kuroo chuckles.

He’s so confident about it that you have no choice but to believe him.

“You have to introduce me to him,” you say, voice a little more desperate than you’d like.

“Why?” Kuroo flashes you a wicked grin. “Got a crush?”

“No,” you roll your eyes, praying your cheeks aren’t turning too red. “He just seems… nice.”

“Nice and… attractive?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just saying, he’s technically single—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be your fake girlfriend?” You knock him with one of his shoulders to little avail. You stumble back a bit from the impact. He stays completely still.

Kuroo cackles a little louder than usual. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Who knew you were so annoying?” You scoff.

“That’s on you,” he smirks. “You’re the one agreed to this.”

“It’s a hell of my own creation,” you mumble.

“Should’ve read the fine print,” Kuroo teases.

You have half a mind to glare at him to keep this going, but a question pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, so…” You press your lips together, frowning. “You didn’t pursue professional volleyball because of people like Bokuto?”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side with a pensive expression. “Sort of,” he shrugs. “I guess I just felt like I didn’t have the same passion for the court that guys like him did.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I just realised my talents would be better applied elsewhere.”

“So… in marketing?”

He grins, glancing at you. “I just think that volleyball has the power to really connect people.”

You tilt your head at him.

“When I first moved to Tokyo, I wasn’t great at talking to people,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But, because of volleyball, I found a way to… feel more comfortable opening up to people.”

The thought of Kuroo Tetsurou of all people being shy strikes you for a second. It’s hard to picture – but only for a moment.

“So,” he continues, “I want to make it easier for kids to get into this sort of thing. You never know who it might help.”

You smile to yourself. Once again, he’s being cute. And he doesn’t seem to have any clue.

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “How’d you end up there?”

“Oh, it was just the first place that took me in,” you shrug.

He snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just sent out my resume to a bunch of places and they got back to me first.”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo grins.

“Sorry it’s not very romantic,” you blush, glancing at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It sounds very reasonable.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle.

In all honesty, part of you had expected this whole ‘fake dating’ thing to be a bit of a burden. The thought of pretending to like someone a lot more than you actually do sounds draining.

But it’s not hard to like Kuroo Tetsurou. In fact, you think he’s quite pleasant company. This whole charade shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

You dutifully ignore the thought that, if this were a real date, you’d absolutely ask him if he’d like to go on another.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #cause and effect by rowan

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peepingtoad · 4 years

Text

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO / 50-50 (There’s a lot of love and a lot of hate, but I think many are actually pretty neutral on him too!)

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / 50-50 (I’d say he may be an... acquired taste? Of course a lot of people I know here find him sexie so it’s hard to say for certain, heh. We may just be the weirdos of the fandom :P )

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO

Are they underrated? YES / NO (Not in terms of ability, but underrated for just how complex and multi-layered he is, I’d say)

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (I honestly think he’s a man of many reputations, both in canon and in fandom :’D)

How strictly do you follow canon? — I’m very much a ‘use the bones of what we got in canon and do my best to flesh them out’ kinda roleplayer. There are some things that can be taken too easily at face value that I see fit to build upon. For example, I think Jiraiya’s feelings on the prophecy and his relationship with Konoha is something that could be too easily played off as simplistic, or like they were immovable constants. But that’s unrealistic for a man of his years and many experiences, so I try to put myself in his emotional setting at various points in his life, and trace how his feelings and behaviours change, if that makes sense?

I try to avoid saying that any of the writing was straight up wrong because it’s disrespectful to the creator. But especially for Jiraiya, who had such a significant role to play in the narrative that it sometimes took precedence over his actual character, I do find some of his actions, and the way some interactions were handled in the canon to be a little OOC... so I’ll work with it and try to spin it in a way that I feel fits how he was characterised.

Basically, I’d say that I follow canon, but I like to enrich it in areas that were lacking detail or a nuanced view that took in all the surrounding events of the time. After Jiraiya’s canon death, of course, that’s when more divergence comes in to my portrayal... otherwise I wouldn’t be able to play any post-war scenarios! But the essence of his character is the same, which I try to keep as close to canon as possible.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — A man of many experiences! You can bet that any topic that comes up, he’ll have some sort of amusing anecdote to share, or be able simply to talk shit about it. He's seen so much, and has a sensitive soul enough that he’ll give anyone a chance; he’s very open-minded and non-judgemental, and honestly is a humanitarian that wants to help those in need. Might leave your muse a little baffled as to how he could hold the status of ‘legend’, only to show it when they least expect it. You never quite know what you’re going to get with him: he’s generous and selfless, yet has many vices that seem selfish at times; he’s both a lover and a fearsome fighter; he’s immensely resilient at the same time as incredibly vulerable and damaged; he’s a himbo and a bit of a jock with the soul of a poet. Love him with no restraint and invite his love in return, and you’ll get not only a lover, but a devotee. Wears his heart on his sleeve... or does he? Chip away at him and find out!

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — The pervy, flirty, jokey schtick could get grating, or come across as disingenuous. In romantic situations, he’ll keep quiet about putting a label on whatever it is, and beneath his overall sweetness and devotion there may be an underlying reek of commitment issues and a fear of admitting he is afraid. He also has a habit of deflecting negativity in general, and playing things off as if they don’t matter or they’re a joke, making him actually rather a difficult person to get to know the heart of. One might feel as if they’re getting nowhere with him...

... Either that, or they get the complete opposite. Yes, as equally as he can be guarded, he can overshare like crazy, and has a tendency to become codependent with those he gets attached to, which is inconsistent with his free-spirited nature, and how adept he is at keeping others at arm’s length from his less sunny side. This inconsistency might make him seem unreliable—if the fact he’s always off who-knows-where doesn’t do the trick already.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — I’ve been a big fan of the Sannin ever since I first read the Deadlock, but being a very young person at the time I perhaps couldn’t relate enough to people who had experienced so much to do them justice in my teenage fic-writing endeavours, so I remained on the sidelines enjoying content by other people (there may also have been a little bit of ‘what the fuck, why do I dig the old dude so much’ denial in there haha). I’ve picked up and dropped my obsession with the series several times over the years, and my love for those three seemed to grow each time. They really are ‘the lost generation’, and as the sole survivors—alongside having a huge impact on the plot, how the shinobi world is shaped, and the three main protagonists—there’s a lot of juicy material there, a lot of emotional background, along with decades of history that basically goes untapped in the canon.

Anyway, I digress. Coming to the Naruto RPC for the first time around this time 2 years ago at the age of 25, I made this blog and my Deidara one on a whim, but focused on the latter at first. Villains were always comfortable territory for me in my other RP experiences, and I think it made me doubt that I could possibly do someone who is frankly a lovely guy any justice, no matter how much I loved him. I even had the intention of making him fully Akatsuki/Missing-Nin AU at first. Yeah. That’s how stuck in my villain/anti-hero zone I was! But, I think in the end, the fact he actually isn’t a two-dimensional typical ‘hero’ was something I chewed over and realised would be incredibly enriching to write, worth stepping out of my comfort zone for. And being a little more mature and less angst-ridden myself by that point, I found I could resonate with his feelings and ideals in a way that I know I couldn’t have as a teen... but I was still tentative.

Anyway, after leaving his blog empty for a bit (with its placeholder URL ‘frogdaddy’, which sadly got hoarded by someone else), I cosplayed the old bastard, along with my partner as Orochimaru. We’d been stanning that particular ship and talking about how great the Sannin are in general for quite some time by that point, but being casually in character for fun while drunk off my tits at a boat party, was a bit of an epiphanic moment. Not long after that, I threw myself right into writing this chaotic-good old bastard with gusto, and here I still am :’)

What keeps your inspiration going? — Taking breaks to recharge as and when I need to. Seriously. The death of all my other blogs has been pressure (mostly from myself) to be there and force myself to put out regular content, so I went into this not thinking that way and it’s really helped!

Of course, there’s also the fact that there simply seems to be no shortage of areas I can delve into with this guy. Again, it’s his age and all the missing years in canon... but I think it’s also how much love he has and his genuine eagerness to engage with others that makes him one of the most naturally bountiful muses I’ve played. Because honestly? Most of my villain muses wanted people to just fuck off :’D this guy is open to everything.

That aside, I guess I just gel with him more than I ever expected to. I’ve changed a lot as a person and gained more confidence since various areas of my life got better, and I really just vibed with this chill, funny, romantic, pervy, big-hearted energy. I enjoy angst, but my real love is peppering the serious and heartbreaking with romance and comedy—and isn’t that just befitting of him? Writing through his eyes also helps to keep my outlook positive, so that keeps me stuck on him as much as the seemingly limitless content potential.

And this is without even going into my cross-fandom AU ideas I have on the back-burner. Honestly, they’re there but I want to put a real effort into them while keeping his essence the same, which for some, involves brushing up on my lore!

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO / RARELY. (depends on whether I get a flash of inspiration—which mostly comes with random asks that happen to stir up an idea for a scene, such as this one (NSFW warning))

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / 50-50 /NO. (I tend not to take things personally but am also very passionate—call it my innate Leo-ness!)

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — Hmmm. I haven’t actually had any critique on my portrayal, so I’m not sure haha! I’d say if it’s constructive, then I’ll take it into account and consider it, especially if it’s a case where it helps me realise I’ve perhaps not gotten across what I intended to very well. But I’m also quite fond of my portrayal in its essence, so I may end up just thanking the person for their opinion and carry on as usual :P

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — Absolutely! I’ve had some wonderful ones recently and it’s exactly the kick I need to get ideas out, some of which I’ve had on the back-burner but not had a framework within which to write it without it getting derailed. I definitely appreciate a question that will keep me at least a little on-topic, otherwise if I go off on my own volition I really tend to... well, go off! Even if a question is a similar topic to something I’ve already done, it’s a good exercise for me to go back to the similar headcanon and see if I can build further on it, deviate, and link it to show what past thoughts I’ve been working with. A great way of keeping some consistency in my portrayal while making improvements, I find! And then of course I’ve had some questions that are entirely new morsels for thought, and it leads me to something new and fresh, which I greatly appreciate.

Basically, any questions at all, fire away! I may take a while but I will get to them eventually!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — Yeah. I mean I think it’s just polite to present a reason as to why not, instead of just being like ‘this is wrong/a bad take’ or whatever. Source material is down to personal interpretation, so if I draw different ideas from it to another person after discussion, then we can simply agree to disagree on it.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — They are welcome to disagree with me I guess? So long as they’re respectful and don’t then treat me as if my interpretation is ‘AU’ or talk about ‘canon Jiraiya’ as if he’s obviously a different entity to my own, then disagree away. But if prompted enough, know that I will most likely defend my portrayal with what I consider to be justification from the source material :P I did pay close attention to it, after all, and I do consider my portrayal to align well with it.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — Depends on the nature of it and the conduct, really? Like, people are allowed to dislike characters. I myself find a couple of characters pretty annoying or don’t particularly care for them (granted, usually it’s in a love-to-hate or simply a ‘this character doesn’t interest me’ way), but that doesn’t affect how I behave towards the RPer of a character. It’s just manners, really. People tend to RP characters because they like them, so why would you take negativity right to their doorstep, in this space they’ve made as an expression of enjoyment for, and to develop said character?

There’s been some people who admitted to me that they didn’t care much for Jiraiya, but then began to like him more with my portrayal and that’s more than fine; I take it as the highest compliment in fact. It’s also the kind of open-minded attitude I like to have with portrayals of characters I don’t necessarily like or have much interest in, because by and large, people do tend to add more depth and nuance than the busy and character-packed canon allowed.

However, if it’s the type of hate that’s got its own devoted circle of bitter bitches, who seem to use so much energy hating a character... then please, don’t engage me. Doesn’t matter who the character is, don’t expect me to follow/keep following your negative ass if it’s constant on the dash—and if the target character is any of the Sannin then frankly I’ll have probably blocked/blacklisted in a heartbeat. The ‘critical’ views of them tend to diminish them as humans, diminish the context and events that surrounded their choices, and in a way that I find is a gross double standard compared to what people will allow other (read: young, attractive, fandom faves, ‘babies’ or ‘beans’) to get away with and excuse the behaviours of. I don’t need that kinda negative energy sullying my hobby, nor do I need moral superiority that isn’t applied consistently across the board.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — Absolutely! I meticulously fret and check, and cringe when I get a reply and happen to spot errors while rereading what I wrote before it! I edit a lot but don’t always pick up on errors, so I’m more than happy to have it pointed out. Chances are, I’ll be far more brutal to myself about it than anyone else would be!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — Overall, yeah. I’m not possessive or clingy (I don’t think) and don’t expect the world from people, nor for them to focus on or favour me or be super fast. I just expect the same respect in return. Having said that, I will express it when I don’t like something or it makes me uncomfortable, provided we’re familiar enough, because if we’re strangers I’d feel like I was coming across as entitled to your energy and emotional labour. I do my best to be diplomatic about it though, and rest assured it doesn’t mean I’m forever mad at you or turned off in any way just because I have a small grievance. I just find that being honest with each other rather than letting things pile up and fester makes a friendship more solid, and basically more genuine and long-lasting.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @dokuhebi Tagging: Whoever hasn’t done this yet!

#this got super long yikes #{dash games}#{ooc}#{long post}

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perpetualmood · 5 years

Note

not an anti your anti-anti post got popular so i wanted to know why u ship bkdk? i'm genuinely curious bc i;ve only seen ppl say it's abusive and i'm new to mha

first of all anon thank you for approaching me respectfully about this. there are a lot of people i know who aren’t as lucky but really, thank you for possessing the basic human decency that so many others on this fucking hellsite can’t muster.

now, first of all let me say that i’m not a “““hardcore shipper””” or anything of the sort. i just think that bakudeku/katsudeku has a pretty good dynamic with lots of potential, along with a lot of other plausible ships in the series. i don’t get into a series for its ships, and even when i ship something i won’t let it take over my experience of fandom, which is why i’m def posting less bnha and ship discourse. this’ll probably be my last post about it, ever.

now, about bakudeku.

on bkdk being abusive:

it is not.

i first want to clarify that while bakugou bullied midoriya in the past, that doesn’t fucking make it abuse. i know abusers, and i know bullies. bakugou was shitty, and i’m not excusing his actions or saying they were okay because they were fucking not. most antis get all their fuel with the line “take a swan dive from the roof” that bakugou says to midoriya in the first chapter.

did he actually mean it? did bakugou, a boy who was told all his life he would be a hero, who wanted to be a hero, say it with the intent of midoriya actually killing himself? no, he didn’t. it would go against everything a hero stood for, and being a hero was bakugou’s only aspiration in his life. unless anyone is iterating that he’s stupid (which canon proves otherwise almost constantly) he knew that when he said it, midoriya wouldn’t do it.

(and while it is important to note that horikoshi has explicitly said that he went too far with that line, as it is not how bakugou should be seen and/or characterised, i’m still treating it as canon because it is, antis don’t @ me.)

and, as midoriya makes very clear later, he has absolutely no intention of taking bakugou’s words seriously. instead, he brushes it off as ‘kacchan being a proud idiot who doesn’t think before he speaks’. however, while he did not take those words seriously, that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt even a little. his expression when bakugou says it is hurt, but more than that, shocked. obviously, anyone with a brain can infer that it is not something midoriya is accustomed to hearing things like that from bakugou. if it had been a regular occurrence, his reaction would have been a lot more subdued as he would have heard it before and therefore expected it.

even if you look at the scene later on, bakugou does not go out of his way to target or even interact with midoriya up until their teacher brings up the fact that midoriya wants to go to ua. bakugou does not see midoriya as “his old friend” or “the kid who he grew up with”. what he sees is “a quirkless kid who can’t do anything is trying to get in his alley, the one that everyone told him was handcrafted for him”. is he right? absolutely fucking not. does he realise this? again, no. this all leads to bakugou having a major gifted kid + inferiority complex, but i digress.

(i feel like it’s necessary to say once again that i am not condoning bakugou’s behaviour just because he didn’t really intend for midoriya to commit suicide or midoriya didn’t take it seriously, or saying that it’s okay if nothing happened.)

anyway, back on topic. later during the final exams arc, midoriya also states explicitly that he and bakugou have not talked properly to one another since they were kids. this makes it clear that bakugou did not, in fact, ceaselessly torment midoriya throughout their elementary school/junior high years. they just didn’t interact, plain and simple. the experience shown on the playground when they were four and the one after school on this day were likely two of very few, perhaps ten at most, incidents in which bakugou and midoriya’s difference in power and therefore status was made clear to show what it means to be quirkless in this society.

(i’d like to talk about how fucking messed up this society is, but that’s a whole other can of worms.)

bakugou has been a bully to midoriya. has he been abusive? absolutely fucking not. do i think their relationship is repairable? yes. i’ve been bullied before. i know what it’s like when you can reconcile with your bully and when you can’t. this is very clearly something that can be salvaged.

on their canon relationship:

do i think of bakudeku as a “he pulled your pigtails because he likes you” situation? am i infatuated with the ever-popular childhood friend trope? not a chance, and dismissing any shipper’s evaluation of their relationship to that is fucking low.

let’s start with their relationship at the beginning. bakugou harbours obvious animosity towards midoriya, and the only reason appears to be that it was because he was quirkless. (again, fuck quirk society) bakugou had always been told he was superior, and midoriya had always been told that he was nothing without a quirk. when you’re a young and impressionable child, having these things said to you a lot will make you believe it. in a sense, it’s akin to brainwashing. bakugou was made to believe that midoriya was worthless in comparison to him, a natural-born hero, and midoriya was made to believe that bakugou was amazing and undefeatable.

there were a lot of ways it could have turned out, honestly. midoriya could have become someone bakugou saw as someone needing protecting, and as cliched as their relationship would have been were that the case, it would have been the only ““functional”” one they could have had. hence the dysfunction, because midoriya is not someone who can sit back and take hits. he wants to be a hero, which is half the reason he admired bakugou in the first place.

so in the beginning of canon when midoriya’s desire to go to ua to be a hero is made known, bakugou, as i said before, feels as though his space has been invaded. he’s marked his territory, and all of a sudden this quirkless nobody i used to know wants to take it from me. of course, his way of thinking is wrong, but he’s never been corrected properly (sorry mitsuki, i love you but you’re not good at parenting, and masaru, please do something about your emotionally constipated son).

bakugou’s reaction to midoriya saying he “just wants to try” makes it look like it was just a trivial matter for midoriya, as opposed to bakugou, who has been working towards wanting to become a hero since he was small (as opposed to midoriya who wanted to as well, yes, but never did anything being analysing the heroes for fun). he feels as though midoriya is going through it with a ‘meh’ attitude, which deeply offended by the sentiment and takes it personally.

so bakugou obviously hates it. he hates feeling like someone that was, in his words, “a pebble in [his] path” could possibly even fathom overtaking him, when they were compared all the time.

additionally, midoriya has been a part of bakugou’s ego fodder. he followed him around, praised him like the rest, yes, but it’s very important to note that even though midoriya showered bakugou with praise he still talked to him as though he would someday be on that same level, even as a kid.

they were kids. they were dumb. but you know what? they grew.

bakugou especially has gone through so much development, even comparing him to the piece of shit he was in chapter 1 is a huge insult to bakugou, to horikoshi, and to midoriya, who has played an enormous part in it, especially after the sludge villain when it is very explicitly stated that bakugou didn’t even interact with midoriya until

in the beginning of their first year at ua, bakugou learned for the first time what it meant to have people who were equal to him, that he wasn’t as exceptional as he thought. midoriya, too learned what it meant to stand as equals, but instead of falling from a platform above, he was thrown up from the ground. and during the battle trial, bakugou tasted bitter defeat for the first time, and it shook him to the point where he had a panic attack in class (which i’m disappointed all might didn’t notice, but i digress) upon seeing midoriya get k.o.-ed but still win while he was left unscathed physically, and lost to deku of all people.

do i think their dynamic from the beginning of the year would have worked as a ship? no, abso-fucking-lutely not. bakugou feels nothing but betrayal (as in, he would obviously believe midoriya was hiding his quirk from him and lying to him their whole lives) and hatred for midoriya up until the battle trial, after which he doesn’t respect or even accept midoriya, but he acknowledges him because he beat him and then admitted half the secret to his quirk.

their relationship is an absolute shitshow for a long time and it shows, but the battle trial was a huge part in the beginning of their relationship developing. and of course, it has to – midoriya is the protagonist and bakugou is the deuteragonist, after all.

but the real turning point where bakugou comes to grudgingly accept midoriya is during their final exams before the training camp, where they went up against all might. being forced to work together and for bakugou to have to listen to midoriya really showed us depth in him we hadn’t seen before. sadly, all might was absolutely no help in their teamwork (despite that being the entire reason aizawa had paired bakugou and midoriya together) and instead made them try to focus on defeating him rather than working together, but somehow, that got the two of them to cooperate in battle.

(personally, i believe that they would have been better matched against a more strategic teacher like aizawa or nedzu as they would be forced to come up with a strategy together, and all might provided an unrealistic situation for them overall and the entire fight makes absolutely little to no use of their intelligence, something that is canonically a prevalent strength for both of them.)

but honestly, after kacchan vs deku 2, where they finally become ““proper rivals”” according to all might, where they both finally, finally talk out their issues and try to patch their shit up. @dekatsu explains it really well here and i’ve rambled for long enough about it.

now, after that fight, they’re both at a point where instead of being at each other’s throats, they’re pushing each other forward, and that’s why i like them together so much, whether platonic or romantic. which brings me to...

what i like about bkdk

aka, the thing you asked me in the first place.

do i approve of their relationship before kacchan vs deku 2? no. but after the fight, it blossoms into something absolutely brilliant. while they’re on their house arrest in the days after their fight, midoriya asks bakugou about his shoot style, and bakugou tells him exactly what he thinks and how it can be improved. and he admits, however backwardly, that he approved of it.

from literally that moment on, their communication and relationship develops so so much (not getting into the later arcs because manga spoilers) and bakugou becomes a huge part of the “one for all” secret, and every. single. time he sees midoriya use it, he encourages him in his competitive way and he does want to make sure he sees deku become a great hero, dammit.

relationships where both parties push each other to do better always seem to be the ones that work best. bakugou is constantly striving now not just to better himself, but he’s making sure that midoriya is getting better too. the more the story progresses, the closer they grow.

we’re at a point where bakugou sits in on midoriya’s meetings with all might about one for all and its technicalities and history, and is willing to train separately with midoriya because of it. they don’t have any problems with each other now -- even all might has properly acknowledged bakugou and midoriya as great friends.

it’s indisputable.

and whether you ship it or not, now if you deny that they have a bond that’s strong as fuck, you’re only making yourself look silly.

platonic or romantic, these two have chemistry and they complement each other so well that it almost hurts. i can’t wait to see them grow into a hero duo.

. . .

anyway, that’s the end of my 2k+ word long meta (which i honestly wouldn’t have been able to complete without the help of a tumblr friend who would like to stay anonymous) and i hope it answers your question and hopefully, it showed you a side of things that not only the antis are seeing. thanx, this is been my last ship discourse post.

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melodiouswhite · 5 years

Text

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 30

30. Warnings and paranoia

After three weeks of physical therapy Hyde was perfectly fit again.

He decided to celebrate this the way he always did on Saturday nights. Tonight he had to avoid his usual pub though. He had been banned, unsurprisingly. But the brothel he usually visited had a bar as well, so why the hell not?

It was a fun night and for once he didn't get into any fights. Maybe people had heard of the beating he had dished out last time. Word did get around fast, after all.

But he had promised Jekyll not to get completely up the pole tonight and so he left it at a few drinks.

When he went home, he was therefore just a bit tipsy, not really drunk.

He was close to his Soho flat, when someone called out to him.

“Pssst!”

Hyde looked to the right. Someone emerged from the shadows of a narrow side street into the light.

A tall, thin working class boy – oh wait. That wasn't a boy. Hyde saw the flaming red pony tail and delicate features and realised that the stranger was a girl in man's clothes.

“Are you Mr. Edward Hyde?”, she asked. Her voice was smoky and neutral.

His alarm bells rang. How did she know him?!

“Depends”, he answered suspiciously, “Who is asking?”

The stranger shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a working class boy who wants to do him a favour. Now drop it, I know you're the man.”

“And I know that you're not a boy”, Hyde retorted, “You're a girl in drag. And since you know me for some reason, I would like to know you and your reason to address me.”

She laughed and threw her arms up in defeat. “You have me there. Alma Donovan, at your service. You're my half-sister's client.”

What?!

“Don't worry, she didn't tell me. I just know stuff like that.”

Was that so? He wondered, if she could read his mind too.

“But I digress. I'm here to warn you.”

“Really now?”, Hyde queried. “What do you have to say?”

“Just this. Don't come here next Friday night. For if you do, something terrible will happen.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

But she didn't explain herself. Instead she just said that she had to leave and vanished back into the shadows.

Hyde stayed behind, completely lost. Then he remembered, that he had been going home and finished his walk.

“Did you hear that, Jekyll?”, he asked, as soon as he was alone.

Jekyll appeared in the nearby mirror. “Yes.”

“Could you make any sense of that?”

The blond lifted an eyebrow. “I thought it was pretty clear. Don't go to Soho next Friday night.”

“Yes, but why?! What will happen, if I don't?! And how would she know?”

Jekyll considered. “I don't know either. But didn't she imply that Lady Summers is her half-sister? Perhaps she also has supernatural abilities, just of another nature. We should ask the Lady.”

Hyde scoffed: “Do you seriously think she will tell us anything?”

“She will have no other choice, now that we know she has a half-sister. I'm pretty sure that her lady-in-waiting is so too. They all have her eyes, but there is no way they can be her daughters.”

Alright. He'd do it. Because seriously. He needed to know.

Lady Summers was displeased, when Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde confronted her about their encounter the previous night.

Good grief, why couldn't Alma hold her mouth about it for once?! She could see, why the red-head had done it; to lessen Mr. Hyde's suspicions. But still!

Just as Dr. Jekyll had predicted, she now had no other choice than explain herself.

“Before I tell you, I want to remind you of the mutual silence article in our contract. Nothing I'm about to tell you four is to leave this room.”

Four, because Dr. Lanyon and Mr. Utterson were here as well. They already knew, of course. They had known her for a long time after all.

“Fine, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It's true, the young girl you encountered is my half-sister. My youngest, to be more specific. She's nineteen years old. And you're also right about Aoimoku. She's my youngest half-sister and almost thirty-one. That's why she calls me 'onee-san'. It means older sister, in a respectful manner. Almost all of my servants are my half-siblings, actually.”

“But that's quite an age gap, especially for siblings”, Dr. Jekyll objected. “And they all have different nationalities. How is that possible?”

She huffed: “Let's just say, my father was quite a ladies' man. And he had a weakness for the exotic. Remember, that he and I travelled around the world several times. That's why so many of them have supernatural powers, like I do. They just don't flaunt it like I do. That's why you never saw any of it.”

“But if they're your younger siblings, why do you employ them as your servants?”, Dr. Jekyll asked.

She shrugged: “I'm my father's only legitimate child. Thus I'm the mistress either way. At first I only took them in, because it was my father's last wish. But you must know, that in their home countries children born out of wedlock have a much harder life than here. They are ostracised. And if they have supernatural abilities, it gets even worse. Most of my siblings come from very religious and superstitious cultures. By taking them in, I became their protector and provider. And they appreciate it, believe me. But as much as I love them, I don't tolerate free loaders. They work for me partly out of gratitude and partly, because I expect them to.”

She bent forward.

“Alright. Now that I've told you, you might want to tell me more about that encounter with my youngest.”

Jekyll shrugged. “It wasn't much. She just emerged from the shadows, like in some Gothic horror novel. Then she inquired for Hyde's name, they had a short banter concerning her cross-dressing-”

“Of course”, she muttered, “She always walks around in drag, when she leaves Whitechapel. Go on.”

“Then she warned us not to go to Soho next Friday, or something terrible would happen. Hyde is confused about what it means.”

At that she snorted. What was there not to understand?!

“You and I both know the answer, Doctor: exactly what it means. Don't risk your health or life on that Friday night by going there anyway. Take her advice seriously, you two. Alma's prophecies are never wrong.”

Dr. Jekyll was visibly curious. “She can predict the future?”

The Lady nodded. “Yes. Quite accurately so, as I just stated. Her visions strike her at random, but they are never wrong.”

“She must make a lot of money with her predictions”, he mused.

But the Lady shook her head, recalling her sister's favourite pastime of … attacking men she didn't like with a knife. And mutilating them, if she got the chance.

“Not really. No one takes her predictions seriously, so she lives off my allowance and by winning bets. The problem is that my sister is … a bit off her hat, so to say. She and Mr. Hyde are very much alike. Actually, I'm surprised that she didn't assault you.”

She could hear the awkward sounds inside the Doctor's head and saw the other men look at each other uncomfortably.

That sort of softened her own embarrassment.

Later, after they were gone, she went up to her office to give her sister another phone call.

The young woman called her, before she could even dial the number. As often was the case.

“Hello, Luise”, a smoky voice with a light Irish accent said.

“Hello, Alma”, the German replied, “We need to speak about you telling my clients that you're my sister.”

“I'm sorry, Luise, but you know why I did it.”

“Of course I do, but do you know how embarrassing that was? To have to talk about my-our father's escapades?!”

“Sorryyyy! Not doing it again, cross my heart.”

“Uhuh. Anyway, do you think they will listen to your prophecy?”

A snort at the end of the line. “Please! You're the only one who takes my words seriously! They will ignore and forget my predictions, just like everyone else.”

“Why did you warn him anyway? You know what kind of man he is.”

For a while the voice on the other line was quiet.

Then she replied: “He will soon learn his lesson. Just because he won't heed my warning. To be honest, that makes it just the sweeter. Afterwards, he'll remember my warning. And he'll curse himself for not listening to me.”

“Ah. Insult to injury”, Lady Summers muttered. “And if I may ask, what exactly will happen?”

“That”, the younger voice spoke, “Is a question I can't answer. But you're clever, big sister. Figure it out.”

The Countess huffed. Sometimes her youngest sister could be rather vague in her predictions and she hated it. Alma's visions were detailed and sharp, she knew that. And still that red-haired bedlam girl refused to be clear at times.

Oh well. She would figure it out.

In the meantime she would keep an eye out for whoever had to be watching her.

Speaking of which …

There it was again.

The feeling of being watched.

But that was impossible. Her study was on the second floor and her table not visible from the outside.

Lady Summers slipped a hand under a fold of her own dress and revealed a rifle.

An M71/84*, a Christmas gift from Otto von Bismarck (ah, good old Bismarck!).

Excellent craftsmanship.

Tried and trusted.

And Lady Luise F. W. Summers was as good with firearms as she was with the blade.

However, when she stepped to the window, opened it and looked outside, she couldn't see anyone.

But instead of relaxing, she became even more nervous. Cavendish Square had many hiding opportunities in the dark.

She ducked behind the curtain and pointed her rifle to wherever someone might be.

The feeling didn't go away.

But she couldn't hear anyone's thoughts.

Perhaps the stalker was out of range.

Deciding that there was no use in hiding behind the window all night, she fired a warning shot into the direction of the trees.

Just for good measure.

And now the feeling finally went away.

Lady Summers closed the window and curtains and slumped against the wall in relief.

At the same time her heart was burning with bitter hatred.

Would she never find peace?!

---

*The M71/84 was a breechloading rifle developed in 1884.

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #Mr Utterson #Gabriel John Utterson #utterson #Hastie Lanyon #dr lanyon #oc #lady summers needs a hug

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tomo-tron · 5 years

Text

My experience growing up as an Artist (and trying to get a job)

Buckle up, it’s a long one.

I’ve never really thought about doing an actual written blog entry on here before as I’ve normally not really had much to say and prefer to talk about my work. But I thought it could be helpful to share my personal experiences of trying to get work post-university from the perspective of an illustrator/artist. This could be helpful to you if you’ve just graduated, are thinking of doing a course at uni or are currently freelance and are wondering how to get your first break in a full-time art job. Emphasis on could.

So for those of you who’ve never met me (which is pretty much 99%+ of my followers), I’ve always drawn characters from games and comics etc. If I saw a character that blew my mind as a kid, I drew them. I had a big, lined, A4 notebook and drew in with biro pen. I drew in class when I wasn’t supposed to. I drew in my weekly planner for lessons (where you were supposed to write homework and deadlines etc) and then got into detentions because of them where I was even made to go through and cover them all up using paper and glue...Art at secondary school DID NOT help me. At all. A lot of schools don’t understand/recognise the games/comic/entertainment industry (or at least seemingly prestigious ones from the north where people make money by farming and/or settling into a mundane plane of conformative existence revolving around having kids way too early and peaking before you’re 25 before forever there after living in a bubble safely tucked away from the rest of the world and society). To be fair, schools have to cover a potentially very broad spectrum and kids don’t always know what’s best for them and where they want to end up. But sometimes kids DO know where they want to end up. To also be fair, my art teachers could see that fine art wasn’t my thing and that I was technically a good artist when it came to drawing, so they sort of gave me a lot of leeway when it came to work guidelines (one of my main teachers also looked and acted like Dean McCoppin from Iron Giant which was pretty much the best thing that could have happened there).

Anyway, moving onto University. In the UK, 2011 was the year the university fees basically tripled...The work I did at that school didn’t really help me much when applying for places. No one I knew wanted to do anything similar. And there were no adults who had any idea what I needed to do to get to the places I wanted either. So I was on my own. Suffice to say I failed at getting onto a 3 year course (which I’ve always imagined was potentially due to increased demand just before the fees went up). The lecturer doing a portfolio review with me said I had “too many werewolves” and the less said about all of that the better. I think maybe there was two werewolves, done in the same style the point of which being that one was male and one was female and I’d tried to make that visually evident. However, I was offered a place on a 1 year Art and Design course (yay...). Ironically, the foundation course turned out to pretty much help me un-learn EVERYTHING that I had spent the last 7 years being told to do. Crazy right? It annoyed me that I had to spend an extra year there (though not from the social point of view and uni life) and straight after the course, I finally began a 3 year Illustration and Animation course.

At 20 y/o (a year later than most) I started my 3 year course. I won’t say too much about the course itself as there’s a slight conflict of interest in regards to me potentially going back to lecture there soon. But in those 3 years, I gradually felt more and more comfortable to focus on producing work that I always felt I was supposed to be doing. Nothing great came out of my first year, the second year was arguably better/more professional and then finally in my third year I created a 26 page comic about monsters (which I drafted a good friend in to write the script for, bearing in mind he was on a course at the time too) which I called “Stubble” and it was the pinnacle of my artist achievements. It was a comic, but I had really developed these two characters from fairly in-cohesive and random creatures with rubber tire armour and boring shapes/silhouettes to these very much simplified, strange, stubble-y polar opposites of one another. So I figured that the ability to create characters and demonstrate that, would help get me into the games industry regardless, if I wanted to go that route.

Then we had the end of year exhibition where we could showcase our final major projects. This got me noticed by a nearby toy design company in the area. It was exactly what I’d always hoped would happen, a job offer fresh out of university. They loved my work and I did a small-ish art test for them before being invited to a job interview that went really well. Their only major concern was my art style and whether I could adapt it appropriately for the sort of work they did. I was 23 y/o at the time, I was still no expert and hadn’t spent a whole lot of time doing product design on my non-product design based course (surprise surprise). I didn’t hear back from them for a while and because I’d never applied to salaried jobs before, I just thought it was the norm. I moved to London with my then gf and pretty much lost all motivation artistically when faced with the real world and trying to make ends meet in the most expensive part of the UK as a poor ass ex-student. Six months later, they got back to me. It was a no. They wanted to stress I was very much in the running along with 2 other applicants and choosing between the 3 of us had been the subject of much debate. So that sucked. And then not long after my long-term relationship fell apart which was a nice addition so I was back to square one at home with mummy and daddy and a seemingly useless degree.

Thankfully, I had made some good friends who were still studying at my university and staying to live in the area afterwards to get work (they were all car designers). So at 24 y/o I pretty much begged them to let me move in with them so I could regain some independence and start again. I should probably mention that freelance work had been coming in post-uni in dribs and drabs. I was doing the work when I found it, but it was few and far between and not really helping me to create a uniform portfolio. I was applying to concept art and character art jobs where ever I could find them the whole time, despite really not having the portfolio to back them up because it was filled with irrelevant work such as cartoon cats I was doing for a legitimately crazy cat lady who was supposedly running a charity (but years later came to the conclusion she was more of an opportunist perpetually trying to reclaim her lost wealth and the life it had afforded her). I managed to end up working for Marvel and Lego which was weird. Though technically it wasn’t directly with either as the Marvel work was for a company who owned the rights to create licensed trading cards on Marvel’s behalf and the Lego job was outsourced to me through an agency that did media production and stuff for other companies. People always say to me “but the fact is you worked for Marvel and Lego”, and maybe it’s impostor syndrome speaking, but I don’t think they fully understand the way that kind of work...works (which is fine, but also perhaps trust the guy who’s been doing this for a living). I’d say I worked for Lego more legitimately than I did for Marvel.

24/25 y/o and my confidence was taking a beating. I kept thinking how it was never meant to be this hard (getting a job). I’d been told by pretty much everyone I’d ever met, professional and otherwise, that I was talented and yet I wasn’t getting anywhere. Add to that the fact I was having to watch all my friends find work in their chosen fields easily and I’m honestly surprised I didn’t have/haven’t had a mental break down of some sort (especially after seeing how some people my age reacted to small periods of uncertainty). I DIGRESS, I started getting bolder with my applications and began sending them to places I thought were too good for me anyway and that would need me to be some sort of artistic veteran to even stand a chance at being considered. I’d mostly stuck to companies within the UK at this point, but I was having to move further afield because I’d exhausted what seemed to be every single games company the UK had to offer and felt like my work was more appropriate for what I deemed to be as bolder and more imaginative US companies. At the time, I was obsessed with League of Legends and had begun to learn about the company behind them, Riot Games. So I thought “fuck it” and I sent an application to their studio in Hong Kong despite being terrified by the prospect of moving there. And guess what?

They got back to me.

Again, I don’t want to go into too much detail. But let’s just say I did another art test for this one. And then another. And then another. And then also another. I didn’t have a job, I was relying on my incredibly unreliable freelance work but pretty much prioritising the application process over everything else going on in my life. I was doing good work in my mind, quantity AND quality, the best of both worlds. I was pushing myself to get into a design frame of mind and applying my extensive knowledge of League of Legends to solve problems that I knew needed addressing in the best way I could.

You can see where this is going.

I didn’t get the job. I found out midday as I recall, which meant I had the whole day to wallow in self pity. But hey, I had a heap of new work for my portfolio. I was proud of it all for a few months at least and now I just feel like I have to include it in my portfolio because of how extensive it was and how much I threw myself at it. I realise now that quantity isn’t always the best thing. And I will never ever ever again draw that many iterations of a character in pencil with nice line work. It was a dumb way to work and it was slow as hell. You don’t focus on line work when you’re trying to develop ideas at an early stage, even if you’re trying to impress a big company. Part of the job is narrowing down ideas. But at the time I didn’t feel that it was my place to say what was and wasn’t good as I was trying to get in to a entry-level role and was expecting someone to make those decisions for me. I was the grunt, they were the overlord. Several months is a lot of time to exchange for a fairly simple lesson. Especially when you feel like you’re trying to play catch up in life and are now 2 years behind everyone else your age. But I’ve got to stress that I wasn’t an expert, I was still young and unlike most other people I knew, I literally had no one to advise me/ look to for tips. Which I think is something pretty much most artists go through at some point in their life seeing as we all end up pretty secluded.

The thing is, I felt obligated to share the work I did from that application because it’s unfair to ask someone to invest so much (UNPAID) time and effort into something without letting them then use that to further their job hunt if you’re to turn them down. Art tests in general are unfair. Apply the idea of an unpaid test to most other areas of employment - marketing, banking (even bar tender jobs will pay you half the standard rate if they’re trailing you for the day) and people generally respond with something like “yeah I wouldn’t do something like that unless I was paid”. Because it comes across like you don’t respect yourself. And yet that is unfortunately the world we live in as artists.

Moving on. Still 25 y/o going on 26, after posting pretty much all of that work on this very blog and whilst on holiday, I got an email from a guy called Ben saying he was from Riot Games and wondered if I wanted to collaborate on a comic together. I’d become accustomed to the word “collaborate” being synonymous with “free” so I was initially sceptical and didn’t think much of it. Instead turning my attention to the shrimps I was bbqing and jokingly telling my friends that some schmuck wanted to get free work out of me again. However, it began to become more real and eventually I understood that it was going to be a real job. Still freelance, but real. And for one of my favourite companies as well. I became one of 4 artists making web comics for Riot at the time and became pretty good friends with Ben. We made “Olaf Vs Everything” whilst the other horsemen of Ben’s apocalypse made “Crystal Quest”, “Academy Adventures” and “Punches and Plants” with him. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but we had fun and did what we could with the limitations of the gig. Season 1 of the comic turned into season 2 and things seemed to be picking up. I was networking and making friends with like-minded artists across the world and suddenly didn’t feel so alone anymore.

I was super lucky to get invited to Riot’s HQ in L.A. along with a bunch of these other artists as part of Riot’s first Art Lab. It was a really crazy time in my life and didn’t quite feel real (sort of still doesn’t). I suddenly felt like I had something to back up my abilities to the friends and family around me and for once wasn’t a huge failure in my chosen field. It was a nice feeling and impostor syndrome definitely went away that week.

That was over a year ago now, which is nuts. But I still know all these guys (and more). They’re a very talented bunch and for the most part, it seems like we’re all watching each other grow and actively try to get our dream jobs. Unlike the majority of artists I met at university, who seemed to only be in it for the qualification and have long since given up pursuing a career as artists. But don’t get me wrong, there were definitely some talented folks who made it work and some who really deserved to but I don’t think have done. Skip forward a bit and I actually started work as a part-time lecturer at my university in 2018, teaching the students taking the same course I did all those years ago. Working with the lecturer who 6/7 years prior had said my portfolio had too many werewolves in it (it’s some sort of running joke). It’s nice to see that they seem to be slightly more thirsty for knowledge than my year group was. The quality of their work is also a better I’d say. More diverse. And every single one of them has a drawing tablet in their first year (most of my year group didn’t get them until 2nd year, some never did).

And now...

I spent the last few months actively sending out applications for concept art jobs again with my portfolio now containing my Artstation King Arthur competition entry in it (which has been helping me out more than I thought it would and you can see here: www.artstation.com/artwork/nQLePX). Side note - do an Artstation challenge if you can, they can be fun, push you and look great in your portfolio/cover letter. I found a job I really really really wanted that was nearby. It ticked all the boxes and almost seemed too good to be true. I did the procedural art test (unpaid of course) and had an interview. Everything felt good. Didn’t get the job. This time seemingly because of not being able to start immediately, despite the fact that all commitments I had had lined up for the next 2 months were completely cancellable. You can’t make this stuff up. So from now on, I will habitually write in capital letters on my cover letters “I CAN START IMMEDIATELY, I DON’T EVEN CARE IF I HAVE TO SLEEP ON THE STREETS IN BETWEEN WORK DAYS UNTIL I CAN FIND ACCOMMODATION, I’LL MAKE SURE I CLEAN MY TEETH BEFORE I COME IN AT THE VERY LEAST” as well as potentially screaming the word “IMMEEEEEDIATELYYYY” at any future interviewers upon hearing a “when can you start” related question. I would advise you to do the same. Well maybe not exactly the same, but y’know, just make sure they know you can start immediately. Bums in seats. Being able to start sooner = more important than being a good fit (sometimes anyway, so take that into consideration).

I’ve mostly spent this past year realising that if I ever want to have a moderately “normal” life (aka having disposable income) then I had to give up doing comics in favour of concept art. I’d already felt that way for a long time, but this year I’ve actively avoided committing to big comic projects because they simply aren’t worth the time and effort in most cases. And to note, I did have a completely separate portfolio of comic page samples I sent out to publishers in an effort to up my game and I got absolutely no where. I’m not trying to dissuade any one else from succeeding where I’ve failed by any means. But you have to be prepared to fail a lot and if you can deal with that then by all means you should try. But for me, I really don’t like the prospect of taking a huge backwards step at this point in life, and by that I mean moving back home where it’s rent-free. Perseverance is an admirable trait. Persevering despite overwhelming odds. And though there is a very big difference between quitting and knowing when to quit, I think artists more so than any other profession don’t really know how to quit. Which is a pretty brave thing in most cases. Meanwhile, with each year that passes I feel like I can relate more and more to episodes of the Simpsons where Bart and Lisa were all grown up and the major difference between the two career-wise. I love (ew grosss) my younger sister, don’t get me wrong (and don’t tell her) but she’s starting to make me look bad ahah.

Next month I’m going to be doing a crash course at Escape Studios in London learning how to model/sculpt and animate a character of my own design in roughly 4 weeks. I’m hoping that broadening my skill set to 3D will increase my employability. It will at the very least mean I can eventually apply to character art jobs and stand a chance. However, after that course I am potentially going to look for part-time/full-time work in an unrelated field of work because I don’t really have a choice.

I will keep looking for the concept art/ character art job out there that I know I’ll be good at. Because I’m in this for the long haul. And if you are as well, then I wish you the very best of luck and hope that something I’ve written here may help you out.

Your hairy neighbourhood friend,

- Tom

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tophatsnap · 6 years

Text

Nothing But a Man Ch 16

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Webber

Christine

When I turned back he was gone. I smiled to myself and brought my fingers up to trace my lips... as if we had kissed. I could still feel his breath on my face; warm and inviting... tantalising. I could have kissed him. I could have. But I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to have the confidence and assertion; I wanted him to be in control. He was always in control... except when we were intimate. I wanted to test him... and then when he told me that he couldn’t kiss me I could not help but play with him a little. Truthfully I could not see the harm in sharing one kiss with our stolen moment but he was doing everything he could to resist such an urge. I enjoyed the fact that I had power over him in some way; enjoyed how I was able to make him feel. He could do the same to me... when he wanted.

When Meg approached I was still locked in that moment with Erik. I knew that he would keep to his promise and see me that very night and so I was not worried when he suddenly disappeared. In truth I was surprised to see him at all given how worried he was. As soon as he was gone I longed for his presence. I had forgotten where I was; forgotten that I was in the middle of an opera performance. Perhaps this was what he was talking about when he spoke of losing himself...

And we had not even kissed...

How I longed to lose myself with him... Lose myself in a place where there were no time constraints, no danger... Nobody cared who or where we were... we could just be...

But something like that could not happen...

“Christine... what are you doing here? We must get changed for the next...”

Meg looked at me, her brows knitted together quizzically.

“What are you doing?” She repeated. I realised that I was simply facing a wall... not particularly looking at anything. It must have seemed quite strange indeed.

“I... I was...”

Meg’s eyes widened excitedly as the realisation dawned on her.

“You were with him weren’t you?”

“What..? Who?”

“Christine... I have not forgotten what you told me. You went missing last night too. Maman was very worried about you. As was I. And... when I saw you this morning you seemed different; you seemed like your old self again. I didn’t want to say anything... I thought it may have been Raoul?”

“Raoul? No!”

“I know.” She smiled. “This was how you were acting before... when you told me that...” She cast her eyes down and moved closer to me. “Do you think it wise though? To be spending time with him when... he did what you said he did?”

“He isn’t a bad person, Meg. He would never hurt me...”

Meg smiled.

“Come on, we need to get changed! Tell me on the way!”

“I’m sorry Meg.” I began as she took my arm in hers and we hurried toward the change rooms. “I had meant to tell you everything but it all resolved itself last night... and it happened so fast...”

“That’s alright! Does this mean that he will be escorting you to the ball?”

The ball. Of course... the Masquerade Ball. Was it that time of year already?

“Well... I...” Of course he could not escort me to the ball. What was Meg thinking? He was the Opera Ghost... but of course... it was a Masquerade. If there was any event he could attend it would be this one. It would be lovely. I did not want to be escorted by anyone else... It was just a matter of asking him. No doubt he knew it was approaching; he knew all that transpired beneath his roof. But then... why had he not asked me? My stomach sank. Perhaps now that he had my affections... he did not want them?

“I... I would like to but... I don’t know that it would be wise.”

“Oh, why not? It is a Bal Masque, is it not? He could be disguised... It is said that he wears a mask anyway... is this true?”

“Yes... its true but...”

But Raoul has already seen it.

I could think of a million and one reasons not to mention the ball to Erik... but in spite of those protestations I found myself wanting to ask him; wanting to go with him... wanting to appear at the top of the grand escalier on his arm. My selfishness outweighed my good sense.

I would ask him...

“Tell me what he is like! I want to know everything!” She continued excitedly, pulling me closer as we rushed through the wings of the stage; past bewildered stage hands and miscellaneous props.

“Ah... where do I start?” I smiled. Erik was such a complex person. He had so many aspects to him... and many more I was yet to learn. He was so gentle and chivalrous, attentive and caring... and I could not help but blush when I thought of the physical attributes I should not have seen... His chest... His arms... Living in a theatre had made me somewhat impervious to shock when it came to the male anatomy but this was different... They had been more than pleasing to the eye and the fact that I should not have seen them made it all the more intriguing. Then I thought of his face... what I could see of it I thought to be uncommonly handsome... but what of the other half? What of the mask that he would not speak of?

I would find out soon enough...

“Well Christine?” Meg pressed. It was then that I realised I had not been speaking aloud; merely lost in my own thoughts once more. How could I voice what had just gone through my head? I felt my cheeks flush with warmth at the mere thought of it.

“Sorry...” I stammered. “Well... he...”

“Girls!” I turned to the source of the voice to see Madame Giry rushing towards us, skirt in hand and a stern look on her face. “What are you two doing? You must change!”

Erik

That night I waited until it was quite late to see Christine. I hadn’t told her when to expect me but even so I felt the need to reprimand myself for not making solid plans with her. It seemed terribly presumptuous and informal of me simply to call on her when I saw fit but it was the way it had to be... at least for a while and I think that she understood that. After our rendezvous in the wings of the stage I made my way back down to my home; always in the shadows. Ever vigilant... ever invisible; ever the Phantom. This time called for it more than ever. Ordinarily I would not mind so much... but if I were caught now everything I had with Christine would be taken from me. I knew very well that if caught I would be hanged. There was little chance of a trial for someone like me... and I was not ready to meet my end at the gallows. Not yet. I had so much more living to do; so much more to experience with her before I met my end.

On my way down I caught sight of Raoul speaking with the gendarmerie. He was determined...

But he would never find what he was looking for.

Once in my home I sat down at my organ as I usually did and began to tinker with the keys absentmindedly as I thought of a way to see her. I gazed down at the book I had given her; sitting on my writing desk ready for her.

Scandinavian Folk Lore

I smiled as I remembered her face upon seeing the book. Her father had brought her so much happiness...

Her father...

The chapel...

That was it. Christine always visited the chapel after dinner. I would have to be careful as always but no one else usually visited the chapel save for four or five of the chorus girls and they were already frightened of me... or at least the idea of me; something that always proved useful.

The hours seemed to stretch on. How had spent years in solitude with nothing but my own company and interests to occupy myself? I had created for myself a world of magic and art and music... the perfect world that simply did not exist above. I had done it... and I was doing it. The very idea of it still filled me with comfort and joy... only now I wished for someone else to accompany me on my island of dreams. Only one other person... Now all I seemed to do was fill the time between seeing Christine and if I could spend a few hours without completely and utterly dwelling on the idea of her, the afternoon was a success.

What had I become?

With all of my hobbies I already had more than enough activities to fill my time... it was just...

Her...

Finally it was time to head to the chapel. After checking myself in the mirror once, albeit reluctantly I made my way up...

The hallways leading to chapel were dark as they always were, but it was Winter and the sun had long but set. The only light visible was provided by the single candle, presumably lit by Christine and sitting just above a picture of her father. And just as I had hoped, sitting in front of the candle was Christine... the flame licked at her skin gently and for a few moments I was transfixed... unable to speak.

I cleared my throat.

“Good evening, Mademoiselle...” I spoke softly.

She spun around, eyes wide. Of course, she could not see in the darkness as I could. How selfish of me.

“It is me.” I said with a smirk, thankfully not visible to her.

“I know.” She said, smiling and turning around.

“And how is that?” I asked, walking closer to her.

“I’ve been hearing your voice for a long time now, Erik.”

I smiled. Of course she had...

“You still come here every night...” I said.

“Yes. It is the only place I know where to find him...” She replied wistfully. “And... now that I know that... he didn’t send me an angel... I find myself drifting away from him.”

“I’m so sorry, Christine.”

“I know.” She said. “You don’t have to keep saying it... Perhaps it was time to grow up anyway.”

I knelt down next to her in the darkness.

“Never let anyone convince you that you have to do anything you don’t want to... You don’t have to grow up just because people say that you must. I had to grow up before my time and... I never had a real childhood.” I stopped myself before I digressed too much. “What I mean is... you can be whoever you want to be. It does not matter to me.”

She touched my face gently. Evidently now that I was kneeling down next to her she was able to see me as clearly as I could see her.

“Thank you.” She said softly. “But... it isn’t about other people. I think that... you did come to me for a reason. Perhaps you came to me and... revealed yourself to me because somehow I needed you to. It was time to let him go...” A tear slid down her porcelain face. “I wish to go to the cemetery soon... to visit him; say my goodbyes. Will you... come with me?”

“Of course, Mon Ange. Whatever you need from me I will give to you.” I was honoured that she would ask me at all given everything.

Christine looked back to her father’s picture.

“I think that he would have liked you... he was a musician, you know.”

“Yes...” I said, still staring at her. I smiled and held her hand in my own. “You told me.”

“Yes...” She said, hardly a response to me... more to herself. It seemed that she was entranced by her father; by the flickering light above his picture. I however was entranced by her. I had never been religious. Lighting candles and praying to the night sky seemed trivial in light of the life I had lived...

But she was my redemption. In my eyes, Christine was everything good in the world and she had saved me in more ways than one.

“Shall we go?” I offered softly. She nodded silently. I stood up and dusted my pants before offering her my hand.

As soon as we had exited the chapel I felt her tug me backward.

“What is it?” Immediately I feared she had seen or heard something...

She pulled me closer with a smile.

“You owe me a kiss.” She cooed. Regretfully I let out a nervous laugh at the word but before I could condemn myself for such a juvenile action she had pulled my face down towards hers and captured my lips with her own. Immediately I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes. God, I loved her. How I had waited to experience such a thing once more. But it was still not safe. It would have to wait until my home...

“Stop...” I mumbled against her mouth.

“Why...” She replied.

“Not here.” I pulled away but I made no effort to stop. I don’t think I would have had it not been for the voices heard behind us; only drunken chorus members but people all the same. She pulled away with a quiet laugh and I found myself laughing along. I felt so silly... but I was enjoying it. My heart swelled with giddy happiness as I rushed her away as if it were all a childish game of hide and seek. At that moment were just like any of the other couples seen enjoying each other in the corners of the Opera corridors...

Weren’t we?

Once down in my home I removed my cape and helped her out of the boat.

“Have you eaten?” I offered. I could not believe how relaxed I felt; not myself at all. I felt... normal. “I could prepare you something? I haven’t had the chance to purchase much but I have some bread if you are hungry.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled. “Thank you.” She looked around nervously. Why was she quiet? Had I done something wrong between the chapel and now? Had she changed her mind?

“What’s wrong?” I questioned, slightly crestfallen. “Have you... changed your mind about tonight?”

“No, no! Not at all!”

“We... can do another night. If you’d like.” It would disappoint me greatly if she agreed but I had to give her the option. It was my home... but I wanted her to feel as comfortable as if it were hers. Perhaps one day it would be?

“No... really.” She walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “It isn’t that at all.” It couldn’t be anything terrible if she was still willing to touch me. I relaxed slightly and placed my hands on her waist.

“What is it, Mon Ange?” I asked, staring down at her. She was so beautiful...

“Well... I wish to ask something of you... only I don’t know quite how to ask it.” Was she blushing?

“You know that I am powerless before your requests, Christine. What is it that you want of me? It shall be yours.”

“Alright...” She said hesitantly. I could tell that she was struggling with whatever she needed to ask me and it only served to make me more curious. “Are you free this Saturday evening?”

At this I laughed audibly.

“No, I am afraid not. I am afraid I have already committed myself to a number of other engagements.”

She stared at me then, apparently not quite seeing my humour. I laughed again.

“Of course I am free.” I joked. At that she seemed to smile. Then it occurred to me. This Saturday was New Years Eve; The Masquerade Ball. She was going to ask me to take her to the Masquerade Ball. How was I to tell her that I was already attending? During the endlessly torturous weeks without Christine I had begun writing my Opera. Originally I had planned to coerce the company to perform said Opera with Christine as the lead role. The Opera was to be an ode to Christine and I. It expressed how I felt about her; everything I could not say... I had even played with the idea of casting myself as the leading male; something that could never be possible. At the Ball I would present the work to the managers along with instructions as to how it would play out. Originally I had formulated this plan in the depths of despair and I will admit that I was not of sound mind at the time. Even so the idea to perform it had never left me; Christine would still be cast in the leading role and it would still serve to express to Christine all that I felt for her. But my plan could not possibly work with Christine in my presence. I had official Opera Ghost business to attend to and I needed to keep that part of my life separate to her...

I treasured the sentiment, of course... no one had ever bestowed on me such a gift but I had to refuse.

“Well... I was wondering whether you might...” She bit her lip. “...whether you would consider... escorting me to the Bal Masque?”

Immediately after speaking she looked up at me; desperate for an answer, desperate for anything that would ease the awkward atmosphere she felt she had created. It was awkward, but it had nothing to do with her.

I sighed and slowly pulled her hands down from my neck.

“Christine...”

“You don’t wish to go?”

“No it... It isn’t that...”

“It is that. I know... what you might be thinking.” She took my hand in hers. “...but... it’s a Masquerade! You... won’t be seen. For once we can be out together and no one will care.”

“Out? What do you mean by that?” I pulled my hand from hers. “I know that this is not ideal for courting Christine but it’s all I have. If you wish to be out with someone then perhaps you should speak to your boy.” She looked at me icily and immediately I regretted my words.

“That was uncalled for.” She said plainly.

“I know. I know. It’s just that I know that this isn’t good enough for you.” I waved my hand in gesture to my home. “That I am not good enough for you and sometimes when you say things it really makes me think that you... want to change your mind. I constantly have doubts...”

“I know.” She said. She took my hand again. “I know that you want to come with me.”

“I want nothing more.”

“Then just come!”

“I cannot!”

“Why?” She pressed, pulling at my hand like a petulant child.

“I... have Opera Ghost business to attend to.” I knew that she wouldn’t want to hear that but it was the truth.

“...What does that mean?” She eyed me suspiciously.

“I have to present the managers with something to perform; an Opera.” I pointed to the Organ. “The one you saw me composing when you were last here. The company is to perform it and I have certain instructions I wish to deliver with it. I have to reveal myself that night. I have to stand before the managers for the first time... before everyone for the first time and if they remember seeing you with me... it could be a great danger to both of us. I’m sorry, Christine. I really am.”

“Well... why is this Opera so important? Is it more important than me?”

“Nothing is more important than you but... this Opera is important to me. And I have been gone too long, and so it has to be done in person. I have to know that they still fear me.”

“Fear you? Why do they have to fear you?”

“It is the only way, Christine.” Why didn’t she understand? The world had to fear me. When I was a child I swore that I would feel no fear; that I would inflict it on others. It was how I had gotten by... Kindness did not get me things; fear did.

“The only way for what? Why can’t you just leave the Opera Ghost behind, Erik? It isn’t who you are anymore.”

“It is, though!” Christine jumped. I hadn’t meant to raise my voice. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her... “I’m sorry.” I pulled her into an embrace. “It... has to be sometimes. As long as I am here... it has to be.”

She took a deep breath.

“Well... perhaps... we could leave together? After your Opera is performed?” What could she possibly mean?

“...Leave?”

“Yes...” She said, looking up at me. “We could... leave together.” Where would we go? I hadn’t left the Opera in years.

“You would... do that for me?” I asked sincerely.

“I would do that with you.” She said, holding me tightly. “Please, Erik. Escort me to the Ball? I would want no one else.”

“I just don’t see how it could work.” She looked down and nodded.

But I knew that she hadn’t given up... I had at least delayed the conversation and I wanted to celebrate this small triumph but I could see another question on her lips. I knew what this one would be and while I was dreading it... I had told her that I would address it and I was nothing if not a man of my word.

“So... earlier today... you said that you would...”

“You wish to know about the mask.” I said sternly.

“I... I’m sorry, it’s just that you said...”

“I know. I’m not angry. You wish to know. Understandably so... Come. Let us sit down. Would you like some wine?” I led her over to the piano bench.

“...Just a glass.” She answered apprehensively.

“Alright. One moment.” I stood up and took a deep breath. When I returned she would ask me. When I returned I would have to explain myself. I loosened my cravat; suddenly finding my surroundings to be increasingly stuffy. “I trust that red is alright?” I called.

“Whatever you suggest.” She said faintly. “I told you, I don’t often drink wine.”

I returned with a new bottle and two glasses. After taking a sip and another deep breath I sat down next to her on my bench and spoke.

“Alright. Ask me.”

She looked at me; a shocked expression upon her face. Almost as if she hadn’t expected me to address it so quickly.

“I... alright.” I saw that she was taking a deep breath herself. What did she have to e nervous about?

“It is alright, Christine.” I reassured her. “Just ask me.” She looked down before speaking.

“Why do you wear the mask?”

“I wear it because I... I wish to hide myself.” I answered craftily.

“But why?” Who was I trying to fool? I had to tell her. I took another sip of wine.

“I wear a mask because... I... was born with a deformity.” I answered simply.

I was surprised when she nodded in understanding.

“And so you feel the need to wear something to cover it?”

I laughed cynically.

“I don’t feel any need. It is world who sees the need to hide my ugliness. The world does not want to see, Christine. Please do not ask me to divulge anything else just yet... I am not ready to revisit my past.”

“I wish that you would show me...” She whispered.

“I thought that you would ask me that. Please know that I would give you anything you asked for. Anything else...”

“You will not show me.”

“Please try to understand.” I began. “It is hard for me. In the past I have been... made to show my face... and the reactions were always the same...”

“Made?”

“That is all I will say on that.”

“Erik, I don’t want to ask something of you that you don’t feel comfortable giving. But... please don’t keep this from me. I want us to start anew; to tell one another everything. To feel completely comfortable in the presence of one another...”

“If that is what you seek, Christine. I may never make you happy. I have secrets that... I have not divulged to anyone and truthfully I don’t know that I ever will. I do not mean to hurt you by saying this and please know that I would never keep something from you that would harm you; it is quite the opposite.” Christine listened attentively. “I keep things from you because some things should not be heard; repeated, relived. It would kill me to know that... saying this would prevent you from seeing me any further but you need to know this now. I will never be... normal. I will never be perfect. I am broken and as much as you redeem me just by being the wondrous person you are... I will always be broken because of the life I have lived.” She looked at me and spoke the three words that threatened to break me every time I heard them.

“I love you.” She said. She reached up and touched the left side of my face. I held her hand and leant into it.

“God, I love you.” I said; my voice quavering with emotion. I loved her for who she was... and I loved her for loving me.

“Let me... try to fix you.” She said. Those words almost made it seem possible. With that she reached up with both hands and ever so slowly removed my mask...

I did not stop her; I did not even protest. I was frozen where I was; in awe at her healing words; her healing hands. It was almost as if with her I was handsome. Perhaps there was no deformity at all? Perhaps it had all been a terrible nightmare and this was my real life?

My eyes were closed...

They did not open until I felt her small, soft hands touching the right side of my face; the side that had not been touched by another living soul; the side that predetermined my life before I had taken my first breath, the side that had made me who I was. To my utter surprise her fingers were exploring the contours of my horrid face; caressing the planes, the irregularities that made me so... unique...

...And it felt glorious.

I searched her face for a reaction; searched her eyes for fear, disgust... her eyes had filled with tears but she was smiling. Perhaps it was pity but I did not care.

She was smiling.

She was not laughing.

She was not screaming.

She was not running.

She was smiling.

This gave me the confidence I needed to reveal everything... Slowly I reached up and pulled the black wig from atop my head. It fell to the ground. Christine simply watched as my defences crumbled around me. Her expression did not change. She reached up and stroked my hair; copper in hue, not black as she had thought... as I had almost come to believe.

“You... are beautiful.” She said softly.

At these words I choked a sob. Pathetic... but I did not have a care. I brought my hand to her face; un-gloved I was permitted to revel in her warmth as she had presumably revelled in mine. A tear escaped my eye and I had to choke back another sob when she reached up to wipe it.

“Kiss me, Erik.” She repeated. Unlike when she had said it to me, hidden in the wings of the stage I needed no coercion. Those words were all I needed. I captured her mouth hungrily. Our kiss deepened as I pulled her onto my lap. The pipe organ behind me sounded loudly as I was pushed onto the keys. We both jumped slightly and laughed at ourselves before continuing the kiss. Deciding that neither of us cared to experience such a surprise again I whisked her up and carried her to her bedroom. I lay her down on the bed as I had done on her first night with me. Only this time she captured my mouth once more and pulled me down onto the bed. Again we laughed as I fell quite clumsily on top of her.

She pushed me onto my back and I did not care to protest. Her deft fingers removed my cravat and within seconds I felt something unlike anything I had ever experienced; her perfect lips placing kisses on my neck. She began just behind my ear. Her warm breath tickled the skin there and I felt her smile against me as I suppressed a chuckle. It was maddeningly pleasurable. She pushed my jacket off my shoulders as her lips moved down my neck. I could not move. I wanted to kiss her in return; bestow the same pleasure on her but I could not... I felt her hands working at my waistcoat as her lips reached my collarbone.

Soon, my waistcoat had met the same fate as my jacket; discarded on the floor of my home and soon my shirt would meet the same end. In truth, I did not care. Never in my life had I had such little regard for my own clothing...

#poto #tpoto #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #nothing but a man #fanfic #phanfic #tophatsnap #erik #christine daae #meg giry #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber

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taiblogcomics · 6 years

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I’m Dreaming of an Orange Christmas (Repost)

Originally published to Xanga on December 22, 2011

Hey there, Winnebagos. If you're here for the latest characterisation atrocity committed by Red Hood and the Outlaws, I'm afraid you're going to be a bit disappointed. While ripping into this comic will remain a regular feature here, like Suicide Squad, it's being delayed this week because I feel like it. I've got something slightly older but much better for you this week. And it's even seasonally appropriate. Today we're going to run a recap for the Green Lantern Larfleeze Christmas Special #1 from last year~ Here's the cover, as always:

Now, before we begin, let's do a little summary of this character, just in case you don't know who Larfleeze is. And shame on you for not knowing.

Larfleeze was created in the gap of issues between two of the finest Green Lantern events in comics history, Sinestro Corps War and Blackest Night. Green Lanterns aren't the only lanterns, and Sinestro decided to make that absolutely true. Hence the Sinestro Corps War: Sinestro creates some yellow rings to offset the green and gathers together a bunch who can best use its fear powers. From there, more lantern colours kept popping up. Long-time rivals the Star Sapphires officially tapped the violet light of love, an old enemy stoked the red fires of rage, and the blue glow of hope was brought about to balance all the groups. And then came this one: the orange light of avarice, held in possession by the greediest, hungriest, most selfish being in the galaxy. His name is Larfleeze, AKA Agent Orange. You can read more of his origin in the collection Green Lantern: Agent Orange, which of course I highly recommend.

But why? Why do I recommend picking up every dang comic with Larfleeze in it that you can find? Well, because Larfleeze is frigging awesome, that's why. He's pretty much the greatest Green Lantern character since the book started in 1959. (Yes, I realise it actually started much earlier with Alan Scott's character, but since Larfleeze is part of the mythos that began with Hal Jordan, we're using Hal's debut as the starting point.) Larfleeze is quirky and weird and damn entertaining. He might be on the negative side of the emotional spectrum, but he's not explicitely evil. He's certainly no Joker or... Vandal Savage, let's say. He's largely hilarious, mostly since he acts like a greedy child most of the time. He's also unreasonably powerful (actual quote from Blackest Night: "Power levels 10,000%"), his ring commits literal identity theft of those slain by it, and he has some hidden depths. Which leads us into the comic we're about to look at now.

We open on Larfleeze's junkyard. Yep, Larfleeze has a junkyard and spends much time on Earth. This comes from an exchange he had with Lex Luthor (who briefly possessed a copy of Larfleeze's ring), who told Larfleeze that one of the most valuable things one can have on Earth is land. And frankly, he has a point. (He's Lex Luthor, he always does.) Larfleeze took this to heart, and obtained for himself a junkyard where he can store all his things and possessions and stuff. I don't think it's ever quite discussed how he obtained it, but my guess is "shenanigans". But I digress.

Also through shenanigans, Larfleeze has heard of the Earth's mighty and amazing guardian, the one they call Santa Claus. Sleeping restlessly in his bed, Larfleeze awakens to a large row of various clocks. Alas, not one cat clock among them, though. Realising the day he's awaited, Larfleeze goes tearassing out of bed, shouting delightedly. (Told you he's like a big child. A very destructive, competently-violent child with a rap sheet as long as your arm and more power than anyone could know what to do with.) Larfleeze gathers up his wishlist, which could put Calvin's to shame, and rushes down the stairs, anticipating what gifts Santa has left for him and how many hours it will take him to unwrap them all (by his estimate, 18. "Perhaps twenty if the ratwaffle cheese wheels are individually wrapped!"). But to his horror, there's nothing under the tree at all. The stockings hang empty.

Larfleeze at first thinks he's been robbed, but then he notices that the cookies and milk are untouched. And then comes one of the reasons why this is among the greatest comics of all time: a recipe. An actual recipe for making orange cookies just like the ones Larfleeze has prepared. When was the last time Batman ever included a recipe for making, I dunno, gingerbread batarangs? Never, that's when. Anyways, Larfleeze concludes that Santa has callously overlooked him in his deliveries, despite his adherence to the decorations and sweet-based offerings. Catching sight of a parade on TV, Larfleeze sees Santa coming down the street. He immediately vacates his house and attacks the parade with razor-fanged reindeer.

In the scuffle, Santa loses his beard, and Larfleeze discovers he is a decoy. He then catches sight of another Santa rushing into Dee Cee's Store of Stuff. He chases the Santa through the store, and discovers a whole group of men dressed in Santa costumes. Larfleeze snarls and threatens their lives until a brave little boy speaks up and tells Larfleeze where Santa is: the North Pole. We then get another brilliant page, this time of a maze made out of the Orange Lantern symbol. For extra awesome, Larfleeze is dressed as Indiana Jones on this page, and also stumbles across Superman's Fortress of Solitude before shrugging and leaving. Oh Larfleeze, if you only knew the rare treasures that lay within it, you would surely salivate at the chance to merely even see them.

After hours of searching, Larfleeze has enough and just begins blasting at the snow and ice. Green Lantern (Hal Jordan, if you were wondering) shows up, and says the ice caps have enough problems with melting without Larfleeze contributing. That's right, Hal Jordan wants you all to go green! Larfleeze, again in petulant child mode, begins demanding that Hal bring out Santa from wherever he's hiding him. Hal insists Santa is just a story told for fun, which Larfleeze can stand even less. Hal then plays his trump card. Christmas, he says, isn't about presents or Santa or getting. It's about having Christmas spirit. Larfleeze, of course, latches on to the word "having", and asks, "How does one... attain this Christmas spirit?" And to help you out, the comic generously includes yet another crafty sort of activity: a Larfleeze Christmas tree ornament to cut out and glue. This thing is pretty boss, and the only reason I haven't done it is because it would ruin the comic.

Hal takes Larfleeze back to his junkyard, and begins searching through it, despite Larfleeze's protests. Hal sorts through Larfleeze's stuff, and gives a little lecture about how Christmas spirit isn't about making the pile of stuff in your backyard bigger (c'mon guys, we all have one). It's about the usual Christmas special mention of giving. Hal then proceeds to give Larfleeze's stuff away to various charities and donation places, all while talking about the spirit of generosity. Larfleeze looks around at his empty junkyard, with only a broken toilet and an empty septic tank left in it, and comments, "I don't think I like Christmas spirit very much." And that, my friends, is why Larfleeze is a delight to read.

Hal continues to try and explain to Larfleeze that Santa isn't real and he shouldn't put so much importance on having stuff, while Larfleeze continues to be Larfleeze. Finally Hal gives up, and drops Larfleeze's Christmas list in disgust before flying off. He turns to give Larfleeze one last piece of advice: "Do yourself a favour, Larfleeze. Look at that list. Look at it close. And ask yourself--Do I really need it?" Larfleeze appears stunned by this. The last page is silent. Larfleeze pores over his list inside his little cabin. Eventually he comes to the very last item at the bottom of the list: "My Family". Larfleeze stares at it, and then curls himself around a pillow and lies down. The end.

Boy, what did I say about hidden depths, huh? Now you see why I read everything that Larfleeze appears in. (Next thing he appears in: Green Lantern New Guardians #4, coming December 28th. Can't wait~ ) Also, the issue then includes a bonus 2-page comic about Orange Lantern member Glomulus, and his quest to find a gift for Larfleeze, and all done in the Tiny Titans style, so it's quite cute. And a full page holiday message picture of all the Earth Green Lanterns (save Kyle) wishing you a happy holidays from DC closes out the issue.

This is a pretty great comic, and I highly recommend picking it up should you stumble across it in the back issues of your local comic shop or some online dealer. DC used to put out Christmas and Halloween specials all the time, but they didn't this year, probably due to the accursed relaunch. Perhaps next year they'll get back on the ball.

Also, it just occurred to me that Larfleeze would be absolutely the greatest Grinch of all time.

#comics #reviews #Green Lantern Larfleeze Christmas Special #Taiblog

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davidarc · 5 years

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An Alternative Author Interview:

TCL’s Countdown Questions.

This week I’m featuring author, editor, speaker, writing coach, ghost-writer, (and my friend) Roz Morris.

I came to know Roz Morris when she contacted me with a request to read and review one of her books. Now, normally, when someone pitches me a novel in a genre I don’t usually read, I back off immediately. But there was something about that email that caught my attention, so I agreed, albeit reluctantly. Then, by chance (maybe because she recognized my reluctance), she told me she was also coming out with a memoir/travel book, Not Quite Lost. Well, that was it! I quickly begged off the novel and with my usual chutzpah, asked for the non-fiction book instead. And what a pleasure it was! (It even prompted me to ask her to do a guest post for me, and the book got an honorable mention as my favorite non-fiction book of that year.) Since then, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting up with her twice on our (frequent) visits to London. That’s why I had to ask her to answer my questions, and she lovingly replied…

If you could visit five (5) places you’ve never been, where would you go and why?

This is prose, not reality, so I’ll make full use of my poetic licence.

My first choice is the underwater ballroom in my novel Lifeform Three. Years ago, I read about a ballroom on the bed of a lake, the last remaining piece of a stately home in Surrey, UK. I have an over-romantic mind and have always loved stately homes, especially ones that have been demolished (this one burned down). I imagine the air retains their shape, a morphic resonance of attics, passageways and the dramas that were played there. But I digress. This underwater room is still in existence. It’s made of glass, grimed by algae and reached by a tunnel. Isn’t that amazing? It isn’t open to the public, though if you look on line you’ll find pictures from urban explorers.

My two next choices are also hidden.

Number two is the cubby hole where the transatlantic internet cables enter the UK. The pixels you’re seeing right now are probably streaming through there. I want to stand in that room and know I’m next to the aorta of our modern lives.

Choice three is the disused Tube Station at Down Street, London, between Green Park and Hyde Park on the Piccadilly Line. Or any disused Tube station. You can sometimes see them from the trains, though not much is visible. But as you stare into the darkness you can imagine old tiling, torn posters tattering in the wind. They are time capsules of the day they were closed. Get me there.

By Mike Quinn, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22849243

Choice four is outer space. This is not hidden, unlike my other choices, but I’d probably need special magic to visit it as I’m short sighted, and poor astronaut material.

For my fifth choice, may I have time travel? (TCL: of course!) Take me to 1909. That’s the year my childhood home was built. A couple of years ago I discovered it was knocked down, so I wrote an obituary for it in my travel memoir Not Quite Lost. If time travel is possible, I’d like to see it in its original Arts & Crafts glory, with its stained glass, leaded light windows overlooking the rolling lawns, carriages in the coach house and horses in the stables. (Roz took most of these pictures, which also appear on an article she did at this website.)

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Name four (4) foods or dishes that you enjoy so much that they’ve practically become part of your personality.

I like a lot of food so this is a difficult answer.

My first choice is taramasalata. I first encountered it when I moved to London to start college. In Cheshire where I grew up, it was regarded as improper and uncivilised – if you even saw it at all. I’d never even heard of dips and suddenly, in London, here was this Greek stuff, invitingly gloopy, intriguingly savoury. And pink. It marked the start of an exciting, exotic, cosmopolitan kind of life. It’s still my go-to comfort food, or one of them.

My second choice is millionaire’s shortbread. Shortbread, caramel and chocolate. Essentially, it’s a posh version of Twix, which I like well enough anyway, but I’m on a mission to find the ultimate millionaire’s shortbread.

My third choice needs a preamble. I love adventurous ingredients and I have an enormous collection of recipe books. When people come to dinner, I ask ‘is there anything you hate to eat or will kill you? Tell me everything, even if you think it’s unlikely I’ll cook it’. Here’s a dish to represent this – belly pork braised in coffee, star anise, liquorice, quince and mushrooms, from Peter Gordon’s Fusion. You have been warned.

My fourth choice is aged steak, cooked rare. Sometimes a slab of bloody meat exactly hits the spot.

There is the past, the present, and the future – if you could choose, which of these three (3) would you prefer to live in, and why?

The present. The older I get, the more comfortable I am in my skin, and the more I cherish the people, creatures and places that are dear to me. I wouldn’t want to be without them or the history that has made me appreciate them. I hope I will always want to live in the present (but I wouldn’t mind a spot of time travel as mentioned above).

Best and worst – you choose which – name two (2) of either your best moments of your life, worst moments of your life, or one of each.

Worst – having to ask the vet to put my horse down. He was very old and arthritic, and I didn’t doubt it was the right decision. But I thought when the time came that the vet would say, as with any other treatment: ‘I think we should do this’ and I could say ‘I agree’. But it seemed she couldn’t make this a ‘yes or no’ question. I had to formulate a sentence to make the request. I felt bad about it in a complex way. I knew it was right, yet I was asking her to do something terrible. But you cannot kill a horse yourself. I then had to ask for the assistance of the stable yard who’d helped me look after him, and thus there were several people I involved in this terrible thing.

The best? When Dave asked me to marry him (and I realised I should take him seriously). I told you I’m a romantic. More than 26 years on we’re still very amused by each other.

Name one (1) book you’ve read in the past year (or so) that you wish you had written, and why.

Only one! Such cruelty. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. A group of people held hostage in an embassy in an unnamed country gradually form a kind of uneasy Eden with their captors, triggered by their reactions to the singing of a world-class soprano. It’s haunting and human, beautifully written. The pace may look slow but something is unfolding all the time. I first read it years ago, but reread it recently so I think it fits your criterion. (TCL: “or so” can be interpreted in any way you wish!)

Thanks Roz! I hope we can meet up again next time we’re in London. It is always fun! By the way, my husband read Bel Canto, but I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet. Perhaps I should!

Roz Morris is an award-nominated novelist (“My Memories of a Future Life” and “Lifeform Three”), and has branched into travel memoir with “Not Quite Lost – Travels Without A Sense of Direction”. She is also a professional book doctor to award-winning writers (Roald Dahl Funny Prize 2012), teaches writing masterclasses for The Guardian and has sold 4 million books as a ghost-writer. Find her at her website and on her blog, contact her on Facebook , find her newsletter and tweet her as @Roz_Morris.

Links: My Memories of a Future Life Lifeform Three Not Quite Lost

TCL's Countdown Questions #15: Author Roz Morris. Find out how the most famous, best-selling, ghostwriter you've never heard of, who graciously answered my five, fast and fun questions. Thank you @Roz_Morris for participating in this. An Alternative Author Interview: TCL's Countdown Questions. This week I’m featuring author, editor, speaker, writing coach, ghost-writer, (and my friend)

#author #authors #Commentary #Countdown Questions #Guest Author Post #interview #Memes

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neuxue · 7 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 18

Siuan strategises, Aes Sedai are Aes Sedai, Sharina is not Aes Sedai

Chapter 18: A Message in Haste

Siuan Sanche, former Amyrlin Seat, ex-Watcher of the Seals, past Flame of Tar Valon, has finally realised she can get novices to do her laundry for her.

Something’s happening in the Hall. Which itself is cause for excitement; not much usually happens in the Hall unless it’s Egwene.

Siuan only pauses for a quick little *shakes fist at cloud*

There was talk of replacing the walkways with something more permanent, perhaps as expensive as paving stones.

Classic Aes Sedai. Just slow right on down until you lose all impetus whatsoever, and then watch. Except of course, because they’re Aes Sedai, they probably won’t ever actually get around to paving the roads. So their unwillingness to act ends up impinging on their unwillingness to act, thus cancelling it out and keeping them from backsliding too far. Two wrongs don’t make a right but apparently two faults make a virtue. Who knew?

Her nerves were taut enough, dealing with Gareth bloody Bryne. Suggesting that she let him teach her how to hold a sword, just in case.

DON’T TEASE ME LIKE THIS, DAMN IT.

If Rand al’Thor himself bloody appeared in camp, the novices should continue their lessons.

Rodel Ituralde and I would both counsel against tempting fate in that particular way, Siuan.

Sheriam, as Egwene’s Keeper, couldn’t enter the Hall without the Amyrlin. And so she was reduced to waiting outside.

I like how there are these little loopholes or knots in the law that probably no one ever really gave any thought to until the rebels ran into them. There’s the obvious one, of Egwene being raised directly from Accepted to Amyrlin, and thus becoming Aes Sedai by default, just because no one ever thought that they really needed to clarify that of course the Amyrlin would be chosen from those already Aes Sedai. But now there’s this one, about the Keeper, which makes perfect sense within its intended bounds of the Keeper entering with the Amyrlin. But I doubt the writers of the law considered what that would mean for the Keeper if the Amyrlin were, say, kidnapped by another Tower faction and held away from her Hall.

I just enjoy things like this. (More so in fiction than in reality, where, for example, a certain party failed to see the point of legally requiring their leader to step down after losing a vote of no confidence, because what leader wouldn’t step down in such circumstances, but I DIGRESS).

[Sheriam] seemed to have regained some calm recently, to be less erratic. Perhaps whatever had been ailing her had passed. She’d always insisted that nothing was wrong in the first place.

Um. When you say ‘recently’, Siuan…can you be a bit more specific? I don’t trust Sheriam. There was that thing a while back with her looking more and more frayed, and then her brief PoV where she was beaten for information, and now suddenly she’s looking better and also Aran’gar is gone. Hmmmm.

Sheriam raised an eyebrow. “Elaida has Travelling.”

Damn it.

I mean, we already knew that, but still. Damn it.

It was bound to happen eventually, though. Too many people knew it, and secrets don’t stay secrets when multiple people know.

But that’s really bad news for the rebels, given that their current tactic is siege. And by really bad news I mean it pretty much nullifies that entire strategy.

Well. Assuming Elaida and her Aes Sedai use it to keep Tar Valon supplied, and/or to attack the rebel army. Given that this is Elaida, I suppose that’s not actually a guarantee.

Why hadn’t this meeting been Sealed to the Flame?

Because the Amyrlin is missing? Surely you mean ‘Sealed to the Hall’…

Nitpicking aside, it’s a good question but it’s also the kind of thing that Aes Sedai would ordinarily keep secret but I’m not sure it necessarily should be. Though it’s probably true that the initial revelation and discussion of how to deal with it probably belongs to a smaller group, so that they can decide how best to release the information, and to whom.

So they’ve been relying partly on tributes for their money. That and cuendillar. I did wonder that a long time ago – though I think at the time I was just wondering how the Tower funded itself, rather than the rebels specifically. They can’t possibly make enough just through tributes, can they?

The White Tower no longer relied on that income – it had far better means of sustaining itself, ones that didn’t rely on outside generosity.

Do we know what these are? Do they levy taxes? Charge for their services? Extort money from rulers? Mint coins themselves and fuck with the global economy?

Still, tributes were never turned away, and many of the Borderland kingdoms still held to the old ways.

The fact that the Borderlanders hold Aes Sedai in higher esteem and respect than most other nations has been consistent since the very beginning of the series, and if there are indeed Aes Sedai and their Warders up helping with the Blight it would make sense, but I have to wonder…why has the fall of Malkier, and the absence of Aes Sedai at the time, not had more of an effect? New Spring showed that the prevailing notion amongst Malkieri was that the White Tower had abandoned them, and that the truth of the matter – that the Aes Sedai just couldn’t get there in time – wasn’t widely known. So then why did the other Borderland nations not share in some of that bitterness, having seen one of their own apparently betrayed? Not just that, but with Malkier’s death, the current Borderlands would have become the Borderlands; they were previously shielded from the Blight by Malkier.

Still, respecting the ‘old ways’ and honouring Aes Sedai just feels consistent with the way the Borderlands overall are characterised, so this isn’t a criticism at all, just…something I hadn’t thought about and am now thinking about. Anyway.

The split of the White Tower, and the discovery of Travelling, had made it very easy for Egwene’s Aes Sedai to send a delegation and collect tributes in person. The Kandori chief clerk hadn’t cared which of the two White Tower sides he supported, so long as the tribute was sent, and had been happy to deliver the money to Ashmanaille directly.

The siege of Tar Valon had made it simple to siphon this coin away from tributes that might have gone to Elaida, instead using them to pay Bryne’s soldiers.

This is so beautifully underhanded and yet entirely legal and I love it. Again, not entirely unlike raising a new Amyrlin and taking full advantage of the exact phrasing of the law in doing so. This is the Aes Sedai cleverness and cunning I’m here for.

Sadly the game is up, though of course no one really wants to accept that this means Elaida has Travelling. The evidence, however, is rather difficult to deny. Even for Aes Sedai very skilled in the fine art of denial.

“I dislike trusting the word of one man,” said Moria

Says the woman who advocated most strongly for an Alliance with the Black Tower.

Meanwhile Siuan is apparently the only one who thinks of informing Gareth Bryne, because HELLO YOU ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SIEGE, YOU MIGHT WANT TO CONSIDER WHAT THIS DOES TO YOUR TACTICAL ADVANTAGE.

Siuan is also just Done. So very done with everyone’s bullshit. Which is all well and good, but don’t let anyone notice just how much power and influence you can still command when you need to, Siuan, or they might begin to look a little more closely…

Then again, at this point that particular issue is probably less of one than it once was.

“This was bound to occur eventually,” Siuan said, though she was nowhere near calm on the inside. “News of Travelling has to be spreading.”

This leaves the Seanchan, I think, as the only major group without knowledge of it. Not for long though, I imagine. Worst kept secret on the continent.

How was Travelling lost in the first place, though? It seems like the kind of thing that would have been even more important during and immediately after the Breaking, what with all the change and upheaval. And even with the increasing fragmentation of communications, it’s hard to see how something that valuable and useful would have faded from Aes Sedai knowledge.

“Light send that we can keep Travelling secret from the Seanchan.”

Yeah, no. Sorry. Not a chance.

Most of the sisters didn’t believe Egwene’s Dreaming of the attack. Fools – the waynted to catch the fish, but didn’t want to gut it. You didn’t raise a woman to Amyrlin, then treat her warnings lightly.

Except they intended to treat not just her warnings but her lightly. She wasn’t supposed to be Amyrlin at all, really. And they’ve sort of managed to get past that – or rather, Egwene has forced them past it – but I think they still don’t see quite how amazing she actually is. Add to that the fact that Dreaming is another nearly lost Talent, and one that’s hard to prove beyond doubt, and it’s no real surprise they fall back on I Know Everything And I Don’t Know This, Therefore This Does Not Exist.

“What was that about?” Sheriam asked, glancing away from the proceedings inside the Hall.

“Making certain we don’t wake up with Elaida’s army surrounding us,” Siuan said. “I’ll bet I’m the only one who thought to warn our general that the enemy may have just undone our biggest tactical advantage. So much for a siege.”

Sheriam frowned, as if she hadn’t considered that. She wouldn’t be alone. Oh, some would think of Bryne, and would be planning to send word to the general eventually. But for many, the catastrophe here wasn’t the fact that Elaida could now move her armies to flank them, or that now Bryne’s siege was useless. The catastrophe would be more personal for them: the knowledge they’d worked to keep secret had fallen into the hands of others.

That’s stupid.

Stupid to the point that it strains crediblity, even. Sure, Aes Sedai are inward-focused and frequently far more narrow in their view than they would care to admit, and they can absolutely be this petty, but…come on. Green Ajah, step up your game.

I wonder if anyone will think to tell Egwene…

I haven’t been doing a very good job of acting weak today, Siuan thought with a grimace.

Understatement of the chapter.

The White Tower was crumbling. The Ajahs weakened one another with petty infighting. Even here, in Egwene’s camp, more time was spent politicking than preparing for the coming storm.

Easier to fall into familiar patterns and deal with the ‘problems’ you’re used to than to face up to a problem you are in no way prepared for, after all. It’s all well and good to say ‘we have bigger issues’, but it’s rather more difficult to follow through on that. It’s easier to deal with the familiar than the unknown, especially when the unknown is, you know, the apocalypse. It’s just another form of denial, really, and a hard one to break out of.

And Siuan was partially responsible for those failures.

This merits a strong ‘yes, but’. You can’t take on all the responsibility, Siuan; you may have played a part in it, but it’s far, far bigger than any individual person. Just as Rand can’t actually take responsibility for the whole world falling apart, you can’t hold yourself responsible for the Tower crumbling. Partly, sure. But nearly every living Aes Sedai – and probably several generations’ worth of dead ones – bears some of that blame.

Elaida and her Ajah certainly bore the lionfish’s share of the blame. But would the Tower have split in the first place if Siuan had fostered cooperation between the Ajahs? Elaida hadn’t had that long to work. Every rift that appeared in the Tower could likely be traced back to tiny cracks during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin.

No. They can be traced much farther back than that. Yes, they were present while Siuan was Amyrlin, and maybe she could have done more to address them, but I get the feeling that would have just postponed the inevitable. The Tower’s strength and unity have been dwindling for a lot longer than a few decades, the Black Ajah has been around for a very long time as well even if they’ve probably been more active recently, and the coming of the Dragon Reborn and all the associated chaos has only served to throw light on those flaws, and to expand cracks that formed a very long time ago.

If she’d been more of a mediator among the factions of the White Tower, could she have pounded strength into the bones of these women? Could she have kept them from turning on one another like razorfish in a blood frenzy?

Probably not, in all honesty. The Black Ajah has been doing a pretty good job of stirring up – or outright creating – conflict in recent years, it seems. And there’s been attention from them and from at least a few of the Forsaken specifically devoted to dividing and destroying the Tower. I have a hard time seeing Siuan – impressive as she is – holding it together in the face of that kind of concerted effort. Egwene will hopefully be able to put it back together again, but that’s a bit different; the breaking itself was likely inevitable, in some form or another.

The Dragon Reborn was important. But he was only one figure in the weaving of these final days. It was too easy to forget that, too easy to watch the dramatic figure of legend and forget everyone else.

So once more we come back to this issue of focus, and the dangers of focusing too narrowly on one thing, believing it to be the only thing that matters. And Siuan has devoted most of her life to the Dragon Reborn. It’s a hard thing to fault, really, because she and Moiraine were, for a very long time, the only ones who knew. And they knew of no one but each other they could trust. Someone had to focus on this, and there was no one else, and so the task fell to them. But especially for the Amyrlin Seat to do so…yes, there are consequences to that.

I like this idea, though, and how various characters have had to realise it in their own ways. Rand may stand at the centre of everything, but he is not the only one involved. And he also can’t do it alone; he may be the prophesied saviour, but he can’t actually carry the entire world’s fate by himself. And so all these other people and groups need to step up as well, and fulfill their roles. They can’t afford to stand by and watch, and they can’t afford to focus solely on the centre. All the other pieces are important as well.

It’s kind of like what Egwene was telling the White Sitters: they actually need to focus on fixing the Tower before they can even think about addressing the Dragon Reborn. All the pieces have to come together in order for the whole to have a chance, and that means those individual pieces can’t be neglected, even while the broader focus does need to be on moving towards Tarmon Gai’don. It’s a tough balance.

Oh hi Sharina.

There was a certain distinct weight to her. She had seen so much, done so much, passed so many years. And unlike an Aes Sedai, Sharina had lived all of those years. Working, raising a family, even burying children.

I’m not sure I agree with this. I would say it’s odd for an Aes Sedai to say Sharina has ‘passed so many years’ but I’ll give Siuan that one, as she’s at least a few decades younger than Sharina. That said, she has spent her time around women who are significantly older than that, so this does still jar a little bit.

But the whole idea of ‘unlike an Aes Sedai, Sharina had lived all of those years’? Not buying it. Most Aes Sedai work, whether that means studying or mediating conflicts or tracking down men who can channel. Older Aes Sedai have seen generations of their family die, even if they’re no longer close to them. And why is raising a family more valuable or more real than the lives Aes Sedai lead? Why does that qualify as living, while Cadsuane’s many adventures or Verin’s alluded-to misadventures or Meidani’s travels or Adeleas’s studies apparently do not?

Maybe some Aes Sedai sit in the Tower and let life pass them by, but just as many seem to live their chosen lives. Those lives may not be the romanticised lives of a country farmwife, sure, but why does that matter? I mean, I get what this is trying for – it goes back to the idea of the Tower being too aloof, too set apart from the rest of the world – but it misses slightly and lands instead on ‘your life only counts if it conforms to this particular definition and set of expectations’.

I do like Sharina, though. I wish my grandmother were that cool.

So Sharina’s carrying Siuan’s laundry while making apparently casual conversation about the current panic in the Hall. She definitely has something she’s angling at here, but unlike many who interact with Siuan, I get the impression she’s not trying to press her own agenda or use Siuan as a piece of some scheme.

“The thinking of crowds is often odd at first consideration, Sharina. Everyone is still talking about that Asha’man visit, and they’re thirsty for more. So they react with excitement at the chance to hear something else. In that way, the great revelations can come in secret, but then cause lesser ones to be received in an explosion of anxiety.”

There’s definitely some truth to that. Look at…uh…certain sections of world news these past several months, for instance.

“One could put that observation to good use, I should think.” Sharina nodded to a group of novices as they passed. “If one wanted to cause worry, that is.”

“What are you saying?” Siuan asked, eyes narrowing.

“Ashmanaille reported first to Lelaine Sedai,” Sharina said softly. “I’ve heard that Lelaine was the one who let the news slip. She spoke it out loud in the hearing of a family of novices while calling for the Hall to meet.She also deflected several early calls for the meeting to be Sealed to the Flame.”

It’s a refreshing change from Nicola, another novice who was clever enough to see things that others missed, but who then used that information to threaten and blackmail. Sharina, on the other hand, seems to be giving more of a warning, and giving Siuan some important information she might otherwise not have known. She’s clever and she’s not an arsehole. Amazing.

Why? And why was Sharina confiding her very un-novice-like opinions?

Because Sharina is very good at following protocol, but is also good at finding ways to bend or adjust the rules when necessary. She can spot problems and figure out ways to address them without really stepping outside of the boundaries of her position.

The more threatened the women in the camp felt – the more danger they saw from Elaida – the easier it would be for a firm hand to seize control.

Sigh. Must you, Lelaine?

“Why did you tell me this?” Siuan asked. “For all you know, I’m Lelaine’s lackey.”

Because Sharina is one of those who can look past the politicking and see the bigger picture. In part, probably, because she’s not Aes Sedai. Like Egwene, she’s still relatively new to this environment, and so some of the issues stand out more sharply to her than they would to one long indoctrinated. So rather than getting caught up in the secrecy and looking for a way to manipulate the situation to her own ends, as some Aes Sedai would have, she sees this as a problem to be solved and approaches someone with more authority who might share that opinion. She’s a very useful ally: not Aes Sedai and therefore not caught up in those games, but intelligent and experienced enough to see things that some of the younger novices would likely miss.

“Please, Siuan Sedai. These eyes aren’t blind, and they see a woman working very hard to keep the Amyrlin’s enemies occupied.”

That makes her one of the very few to have noticed.

Again, her being something of an outsider helps, here. She probably doesn’t know how the Aes Sedai determine rank, so she’s going to be less liable to dismiss Siuan out of hand. It’s why Siuan has been able to get away with doing what she’s been doing all this time: the other Aes Sedai virtually ignore her because their heirarchy is so ingrained that they essentially forget who Siuan was in favour of who she appears to be now. Sharina, though, sees Siuan through a less biased filter, and so is far more likely to notice her abilities that have nothing to do with her strength in the Power.

“But you are still exposing yourself for very little reward.”

A very Aes Sedai way of looking at things, Siuan. Sharina hasn’t been here long enough to become embroiled in the political games, really. Not to mention she’s a novice – however strange a novice she may be – so none of the Aes Sedai would treat her as a member of those games either. She’s a tool to them, or perhaps an annoyance, or a source of discomfort, but certainly not an equal in their eyes.

“Excuse me, Siuan Sedai, but what do you suppose my fate will be if the Amyrlin doesn’t return? No matter what she says now, we can sense Lelaine Sedai’s true opinions.”

Fair point.

Hurry up, girl, Siuan thought to Egwene, glancing toward the spire of the White Tower.

How long has it been now? Siuan mentioned ‘months’ when referring back to the news of the Cleansing, which was after Egwene was taken, so…yeah. It’s been a while.

Is that more or less time than Egwene spent as a damane? I want to say it’s about the same but I could very easily be misremembering – timelines are not my strong suit. Still, she’s had some rough periods of captivity, that’s for sure.

Next (TGS ch 19) Previous (TGS ch 17)

#now if only someone would give /me/ the secret of Travelling #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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