Favorite Screen Characters Tag

Tags

baroness emma orczy, bbc merlin, bbc sherlock, being professorish, c.s. forester, captain america, doctor who, horatio hornblower, i'm jamming my tagging system but i don't care, j.r.r. tolkien, movies, star wars, television, the lord of the rings, the scarlet pimpernel, wow what a lot of bbc stuff around here

Hey, everyone. So I was nominated for this one by Sarah, my fellow superhero. Go check out her blog! 🙂

Basically, the idea is to name your top ten favorite characters from movies and TV (and like Deborah, I agree: Ten is far too few.) I’m also limiting myself so I never do too many per franchise.

I also apologize in advance, especially to my American fans, as this list will probably be largely dominated by the BBC. (British Television, people.)

10. Sir Percy Blakeney/Marguerite Blakeney. I had to include the husband-and-wife duo from A&E’s The Scarlet Pimpernel movies, because they are both brilliant, amazing actors, and a force to be reckoned with, saving lives and defying death during the Reign of Terror.

9. Jack Frost (from Rise of the Guardians) because, why not? Jack is the Guardian of Joy, so that people like him would make perfect sense. (Also, his story is MUCH better handled than Elsa’s and he became immortal while saving his little sister’s life.)

8. Merlin (from BBC’s Merlin.) Merlin is charming, hilarious, and a little bit clumsy. Added to that, he has the most awesome bromance with the other side of the coin, Arthur (who is, to use Merlin’s word, a bit of a prat.) These boys broke my heart. Also, Gwaine died (spoilers!) But anyway,

7. Sherlock (specifically from the BBC show Sherlock… I told you it might be BBC-dominated!) Sherlock is truly a hero, though he doesn’t actually believe that. He can be unfeeling, even brutal, at times, but he is committed to John’s (and, by extension, Mary’s) safety, and is a true friend.

6. Hiccup (from How to Train Your Dragon, but you knew that. :-P) Hiccup is the most unlikely hero you could imagine, but when he does find something to fight for, and remembers that his father loves him, he’s a force to be reckoned with. Also, sarcasm. 😛

5. If I have to pick just one character from the Lord of the Rings… Faramir. He’s a good man and a wise one. (I also love Sam, Frodo, and all the rest, but Faramir doesn’t get nearly the respect he deserves.)

4. Horatio Hornblower. Need I even start? Horatio is intelligent, a brilliant tactician, and always tries to be a good man. I sort of feel a connection to him because I’ve got the same sort of constant mental commentary coming after me, and sometimes I hate myself over some decisions I’ve made. Also, awesome swordfighting… need I say more? 😉
Horatio is a unique character because, instead of being addicted to adrenaline or totally fearless, he’s actually really nervous before going into battle, and sometimes struggles with relating to people. He’s a bit more logical in his approach to fights and such, and I find that unusual.

(These next three are actually about equal in my mind. I’m just ranking them this way because of how often I watch the movies featuring them and

3. The Doctor. I know you’re probably all fed up with how far I’ve gone into the Doctor Who fandom by now, so I’ll keep this short. I just think that the Doctor is amazing, and both incarnations I’ve seen so far were incredible. (Christopher Eccleston was brilliant and hilarious, and David Tennant… um. The word “precious” comes to mind–you know, in the sense of a small child… I’ll stop talking now. Oh look, Merlin quote!) Intelligent and funny, I think the Doctor is an intriguing character because he uses ridiculousness as a weapon, like Sir Percy Blakeney, who should also be on this list somewhere. Oh great, I just obfuscated again…
Um. Anyway, basically, the Doctor uses his sometimes-a-little-childish behavior and attitude to make the bad guys underestimate him.
The two main things you need to know about the Doctor: a) he sometimes behaves like a small child. b) he has some inner darkness going on, sort of a deep-seated cold rage. (The most murderous species in the universe calls him “The Oncoming Storm.” How’s that for credentials?!)

2. Steve Rogers. Do I even need to start? Loyal, selfless, and a tactical genius, but you wouldn’t know it if you were just casually talking with him. He has a homey sort of side that’s very appealing. Also an example of how you don’t have to have the sort of intense training Black Widow does or even a particularly tragic childhood to be a superhero. It’s the heart that matters. It’s the man that makes the superhero, and Steve is probably the BEST example of this. (Steve is in this slot on the list because I’ve been a fan of him for a little while–not as long as Horatio–but I rewatch the movies featuring him pretty often.)

1. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan is my all-time favorite character from any movie. He’s brave and kind and intelligent and doesn’t need to be the “Chosen One” to be brilliant and the absolute best. (I have a whole theory that in a fight between Sidious and Obi-Wan, Sidious absolutely would not walk away from it, even if Obi-Wan was killed as well. But I’m not going into that here.) I may stray from fandom to fandom, but Obi-Wan is one character I’ll always come back to.

I probably forgot several of my favorite characters. *sigh* Like I said before… only ten?! Is that even possible?

And because I keep forgetting about this, I’ll tag Iris and WriteFury (I don’t think either of them has done it…) and Proverbs31teen. Also the Professor, because I would love to find out who his favorite characters on screen are… 😉 Good luck, people!

Just In Case

Tags

completed stories, fanfiction, letters, old work, short stories, star wars

This is actually an older piece that I wrote but never posted. It might never have been posted if not for Rosalie looking for it on my blog (I probably sent it to her for review before forgetting all about it) for hours and never finding it. I am so sorry about all those hours you spent looking for something that wasn’t even here, Rosalie. 😦

It’s a bit introspective and my style has changed quite a bit since I wrote it–I can tell quite clearly. I hope you all enjoy this journey deep into the Archives! ;-D

---

Just In Case

            Obi-Wan gripped the pen between his fingers. It had been a hard fight with himself to decide to do this, but duty won out over personal feelings.

As it always had.

Obi-Wan reached for the ink, checked it. Per traditions, he was using a quill and an ink bottle. He had tempered this quill himself for letter writing, years ago, when he still had enough time for that sort of thing. This quill had never been used. He had a bunch of them set aside. When he ran out, he would have to resort to a metal-nib calligraphy set. But for now, he preferred the feel of the quill. He had always preferred the feel of wood to that of plastic, keratin to that of metal.

He had had to force himself to the desk. It was going to be a struggle against his emotions to write this letter, especially knowing the circumstances in which Anakin would be reading it. Obi-Wan swallowed hard. His duties to Anakin outweighed any concern for himself. He would write the letter. Obi-Wan swallowed again and began.

To Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, from Obi-Wan Kenobi, member of the Jedi Council, greeting.

          My Dearest Friend,

Obi-Wan stared at these first words, as if mesmerized by the beauty of his own neat, elegant handwriting. As far as dress, bearing, and taste went, he was all for simplicity. However, when it came to his hand, to calligraphy, that was a different matter. When writing letters, he could be extravagant. After all, it wasn’t for him. Obi-Wan looked at the salutation. It was well merited. He began again.

   By the time you are reading this, I will be walking with Qui-Gon in those beautiful glades I told you of, in my dream. I will have gone to become one with the Force. I am not going to give you some sugary, supercilious nonsense about not crying. I’m not going to tell you not to cry. It wouldn’t make any difference, and besides, I want you to cry.

Obi-Wan went back and underscored the word “want” to add emphasis. He continued on.

I want you to cry. Tears aren’t all bad. They can heal as well.

Obi-Wan paused, thinking. What was he going to say next? How could he tell?

Anakin, Anakin, Force knows it’s been far too long since we’ve had a heart-to-heart. I miss you, I feel as if you’re drifting away from me. You’re keeping secrets from me, I can tell, but I’m not going to ask about it. Maybe I’m making a mistake by not asking, but I can’t ask. I respect you too much.

Obi-Wan looked up at the wall. “What do I say now?” he asked aloud. This duty was a heavy one, but it was a reality that time had only underscored, not alleviated.

One of these missions, he was not going to come back. This truth had been brutally ground into him, burned mercilessly into his awareness, ten years ago with Qui-Gon’s death. Would it have made it easier for him if Qui-Gon had left a last letter? Perhaps, perhaps not. Obi-Wan quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped from one eye. He had come to accept it. The question was, would Anakin?

Obi-Wan dipped the pen again. He sighed.

I know how much you’ll miss me, but in the end, you’ll understand. I’ll be with Qui-Gon while you’re reading this. Please, don’t be any sadder than you need to be.

A tear rolled down Obi-Wan’s cheek and splattered on the page. Hastily, he wiped it off before the paper could wrinkle. He couldn’t stop the memory that rose to the top. A Padawan, trapped away from his master. That same master, run through by an evil creature that was the return of the Sith. A scream of anguish. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Was that me? Obi-Wan wondered. He brushed the thought away and continued to write.

Please, don’t be angry with me for failing to take care of myself. I am not a child, Anakin, not anymore. I know what it is like to loose the mentor you all but worshipped. I have a request to make, Anakin.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the burn in them. A red glow suffused against his eyelids. Hold back the dark. the voice of his childhood whispered. Be the light you were born to be. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, but did not see the familiarity of his own room. Instead, he saw the cell in which Ventress had held him. Anakin is dead. That voice, all over again. Pain. His pain. He barely felt it. It was nothing beside the gnawing agony. Obi-Wan fought off the memory, back into his own room in the Temple. His blue-gray eyes clouded over. Ventress. The woman who had hated him, wounded him, scarred him for life…

And then saved that same life.

Obi-Wan knew what confusion was like. Ventress had been really hating herself, more than him. He had been like that, when his own master was murdered. Days later, he wondered if it really had been him to kill the Sith. The duel had been fought as if he himself was hiding elsewhere, his fingers in his ears and eyes squeezed shut. He had wanted to die.

So it had come as a surprise when the enraged onslaught had resulted in the Sith’s death instead. The one clear thing about that moment was his own feeling of vindicated satisfaction as the Sith fell backwards into that pit in two pieces.

Maul. The man who had murdered Obi-Wan’s master, ripped away whatever fragments of Obi-Wan’s childhood the Jedi had left to cling to, and then cheated death and returned to make Obi-Wan suffer. What Maul did not understand was that Obi-Wan had forgiven him. Obi-Wan could never suffer like Maul had. Obi-Wan’s suffering was not that of hatred, but that of choice. Hatred was eternal pain. He knew that from what he had learned at the Temple, not from personal experience, thank the Force.

Anakin, too, had saved Obi-Wan’s life, but not in that same ostensible manner. He had given Obi-Wan purpose beyond Qui-Gon’s death. He had stopped Obi-Wan from being a lost child, still trapped in childhood and always with the past, never the present.

Or the future.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, willing to relax them against the painful glare of black on white. Thousands of hours staring at viewscreens and data readouts had not done much for his eyesight. He might eventually need contact lenses. Live in the moment, Qui-Gon’s voice floated into his awareness. He took a deep breath. Right. Ever since Mortis, he had known that Qui-Gon was at least not completely gone. He did not know how or why, but he did know that he had carried Qui-Gon with him, in a sense. It should not have surprised him, seeing the close and strong nature of their bond. It stood to reason that, should Qui-Gon be still existent on a plain where he could speak to Obi-Wan at times, he would be innately linked to Obi-Wan still. Obi-Wan smiled at the memory of Qui-Gon. The pain had not gone away, but at least it did not dim the memory of the happy times any more.

Obi-Wan looked back at the page and frowned. It was a farewell letter. It was only the second farewell letter he had written in his life. All Padawans wrote a farewell letter to their families on their thirteenth birthday. It was supposed to be the last contact they had with their families. Of course, there was no rule against writing further letters, but the farewell letter was really the beginning of the end. It was meant to be a comfort to the family, should they hear of their son or daughter’s death in action, and a last farewell, a last admission of love. Dutifully, Obi-Wan had written his, though almost two weeks after his birthday; missions had gotten in the way.

But this was different. It was a farewell letter to Anakin, should Obi-Wan be killed in the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan had never felt the need before to write one. However, all that had changed with Raydonia, and Mandalore.

Get on with it! Obi-Wan told himself forcefully, roughly pushing himself back to the present. He stared at the last line for a moment, then continued.

Please, for my sake, if Dooku or Grievous or Maul or someone like that is the one who kills me, do not take revenge! It would destroy you.

  Other than that, mourn me, and then move on, and be glad for me, because I will be with Qui-Gon and Adi, and all the others who’ve gone on before us. I was born to be a Jedi, I lived a Jedi, and I will die a Jedi. Death is merely part of living. Like other parts of life, it has a potential to be painful, though it doesn’t have to be.

  Do not worry about my sister, brother, and so forth. They came to terms with who I was and that I was in constant danger years ago. Do not feel obligated to write them, unless you want to.

          I have no regrets, Anakin. I have tried my best in thousands of missions, and if I made mistakes I at least did my best to put them right. Take care of Padme for me—she may not understand. Be a good master to Ahsoka, and say something kind to Bant.

          Farewell, Anakin. Until we meet again.

          Your faithful servant,

          Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan carefully sealed the letter, and with it the ghosts of his past. He addressed it to Anakin with a few neat strokes. Still thinking quietly, he dripped the wax onto the flap, then stamped the seal ring down on it. It was a standard enough seal, the Order symbol. Obi-Wan had given up on the five-petaled rose insignia that was his birthright upon ascending to the Council, though he still had the seal. It was a mere memento, nothing more. Placing the letter in the desk, he carefully locked it and placed the key on the mantel. Should he be killed, he had no doubt that, in looking through his things, Anakin would find it or receive it. The past dealt with, Obi-Wan left the room.

August not-quite-TCWT: My First “Masterpiece” *cringe*

Tags

c.s. lewis, character development, robin hood legends, star wars, story dynamics, the chronicles of narnia, worldbuilding, writing

Okay. I forgot to do this before but I’m hesitant to leave it undone. So.

The prompt, as re-released by Rosalie, for August, was “What was the first thing you wrote of your own accord?”

*grabs Thinking Pillow and Kennedy-the-Dragon and sits against the Doctor’s back, thinking*

Oh my. What a doozy of a question.

Probably my first autonomous work, *smacks Turquoise in the face for insinuating that I use too many long words* written when I was nine, was a compendium of poorly written Robin Hood legends with the worst OC I have ever written. She wasn’t named Sparkles Purple Power or whatever, and she actually did have some bad habits, but she was the closest I have ever gotten to a Mary Sue. She was a very weak character, her backstory was the most cliche, she had no personality and, worst of all, she didn’t ever actually do anything (except burning the trenchers and shooting one of Prince John’s men in the backside. She was so useless she couldn’t even hit him in the back of the head. Or the ribs. Or the lung. Or any part of him where her shot might have actually done some damage. Oh, it was played for laughs, but it had been left in the wrong spot and came across as if I didn’t respect my topic at all.)

Basically, think Merida, only without the spark of life that makes Merida compelling, a tragic backstory, and no actual motivation.

Maybe that’s why everyone sounded so self-satisfied and kept rehashing everything they already knew?!

(I really did get my start writing fanfiction, you see.)

Or, wait!

It was a horrible copycat of “The Chronicles of Narnia” which started out okay (ish), but quickly spiraled downwards as I didn’t have the patience to tell a story which was longer than a front-and-back page. It had a fairly good concept if I could’ve developed it better, but now it’s been shelved. Permanently.

I hope that for posterity’s sake and definitely not out of pride that it stays hidden until the end of time.

I’m not sure how old I was when I wrote that. It was, however, definitely more than a decade ago.

After the Robin Hood fail, my next attempt at writing was a novel-length fanfiction of Star Wars, which taught me a lot about characterization and how to differentiate characters by trial and error, but nothing about story–it was horrifically plotless and basically drifted with whatever ideas I wanted to throw in. As a result, the main character (another unfortunate OC who was marginally better than my first and worst one), while she did improve in her lessons and became better at the Jedi arts, never really experienced any major personal growth. She really did deserve better.

My third (fourth?) serious attempt at writing was another young lady with a tragic backstory, maybe a bit more character and personality, but still with a negligible plot and no real character development. And the world I built for it was sadly lacking in depth and originality. Faugh.

After that, though, I did improve somewhat.

It’s been a journey, to say the least. *sigh*

Archivist of Selay’uu’s Journal: Summer: Day Thirty-Four

Tags

because i can that's why, cake, doctor who, fun stuff, humor (sort of), minor wars, oops, selay'uu, star wars

I am afraid that these are going up with no chronology in mind.

Oh well.

Well, what’s an Archivist to do? I write all my books out of order, for crying out loud!

---

“Captain Jack Harkness,” he said as he entered the room, flashing a show-stopping smile at the sole occupant. I mentally facepalmed, wanting to kick myself at the same time. I’d forgotten to warn Obi-Wan.

He rose to the occasion brilliantly. “Nice to meet you,” he said disinterestedly, working away at the frosting he was crafting for the cake that I’d just put in the oven.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Obi-Wan held out a chocolate-smeared hand. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi. And the ganache is going to burn.”

Obi-Wan: 1

Jack: 0

---

Jack wandered into the lunch room, where Obi-Wan was in the middle of Captains Courageous. He was, incidentally, sitting in the chair where Jack preferred to install himself.

“Hey. You doing anything interesting tonight?” Jack asked.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan replied, not looking up. “Avoiding you.” He shifted deliberately in the chair. Jack sighed.

“Can I have my chair back?

Obi-Wan: 2

Jack: 0

---

 

“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan explained to a family in a dimension we Selay’uu Mansion inhabitants had just saved. He jumped in before Jack could reply: “And this is Jaqcueline.”

I think I may have unintentionally started a war.

Oh well.

---

Author’s Note: With apologies to anyone who is actually named Jacqueline. 😛

Not-Quite-Teens-Can-Write-Too: First Thing I Wrote

Tags

arthurian legends, author, doctor who, editing, fantasy, fiction, novels, robin hood legends, science fiction, star wars, steampunk, story dynamics, writer, writing

The prompt was “What was the first thing you wrote of your own free will?”

Simple answer: I started when I was nine, writing a compilation (it was not a novel, too haphazard) of Robin Hood stories. It was poorly written, with choppy transitions, and too pleased-with-itself, and the humor was just shoved in randomly, not integrated.

Nevertheless, I had some fun with it.

Rewriting it today, I would have done it from Will Scarlet’s point of view, left out extraneous material I’d thrown in, and done a lot more research. (Watching Doctor Who has made a good impression on me. At least in that respect.)

The second thing I started to write, when I was eleven, was a complex and dedicated effort at overhauling the young people’s side of the Star Wars mythos–namely, I wrote about a Padawan Learner (different one in each trilogy.) It was essentially Jedi Apprentice, but much more ambitious. (I was eleven, and already writing at an eighth grade level. That might be hard to believe, but if you ignore the poor quality of the content and the horrible, choppy, obvious dialogue, it’s true.) This story had no central arc, being merely a series of short adventures (mind you, I had not started watching TV shows back then, so I had no real idea of how to write a story which could stand alone but also played into a larger plot. Kudos to you, Bad Wolf.) The first of these stories, in the original trilogy, starred an OC–not a Mary Sue, I am proud to say, but still horribly awkward. (I am considering rewriting some of the adventures into a separate novel that has no Star Wars affiliation, because some of these characters would fit ironically well into a steampunk setting. I recently discovered that I love steampunk, and science fiction, especially science fiction that takes its science seriously. Such a treat!)

I started a third novel a few years later about a mythical country and a young woman who had been kidnapped. This is the story that would eventually teach me that less is more, because her backstory got painfully complicated very quickly. Rewriting it today, I would make her less of a victim and more of a dynamic character with something to actually bring to the table (maybe she likes making shoes? That would be useful to the rebels!), and make her actually a real, honest-to-goodness peasant who had just been raised by her aunt and uncle, rather than a noble in disguise. Self-made nobles are far more interesting than born ones in many cases.

After that, I began work on a different angle on the Arthurian legends, which spun off into a novel about Mordred–my Mordred is a bit more like Batman, only with some anti-hero thrown in, a temper, and a vulnerable side–he desperately wants to be accepted by Arthur’s court, but he wants to be accepted for who he is, not as Arthur’s long-lost (illegitimate) son, and his best friend, Gawaine, can never find out that Mordred is really his half-brother (Morgause, in this story, is Mordred’s mother, but he was raised by his aunt Morgan.) Of course, it gets a bit violent–Mordred gets angry with Morgan and walks out on her when he turns fifteen, and of course it was acrimonious. Mordred decides to change his fate and is totally loyal to Arthur (he explains to his confidant Lady Lynnette, who is married to one of his half-brothers and found out Mordred’s secret by accident, “I don’t think of him as my father. That would be weird. I think of him as my king.”) but ends up having to make the choice between saving Arthur and stopping Morgan. Add in a bit of a dark sense of humor and there you are.

It’s not always been an easy or comfortable journey (bits of it were positively embarrassing,) but I’ve been glad to go on it, if it means improvement. Allons-y!

Thanks to Rosalie for starting up this alternative blog chain. She might think it’s awkward, but she deserves lots of hugs. You can find the launching post here.

Camp Nanowrimo Art Dump 2

Tags

a. a. milne, artwork, avengers, bound to the flame, doctor who, dragons, fan art, fantasy, frozen, marvel, novels, star wars, stefan, winnie the pooh, writing

This gallery contains 17 photos.

Some of this, again, is not from camp, or was completed as part of camp. A lot of it, though, …

Continue reading →

Camp Nanowrimo: Art Dump

Tags

artwork, avengers, camp nanowrimo, camp nanowrimo july 2015, captain america, cats, doctor who, dogs, jack harkness is licking all over the doctor because he can, marvel, nanowrimo, national novel writing month, original fiction, star wars

This gallery contains 11 photos.

  Hello, everyone! This year, in an attempt to be witty, I decided to rebel for this month’s Camp Nanowrimo. …

Continue reading →

Writing Prompts

Tags

bbc merlin, bbc sherlock, captain america, doctor who, fanfiction, fun stuff, marvel, plot prompts, star wars, the avengers

I found a grape when I went to bed last night. (Thanks a lot, Harold.)

Anyway, that was actually my sister’s doing. We were watching Doctor Who and sitting on my bed and she was eating grapes. (Fortunately, there were no grape stains, thanks for asking 😉 )

But I had an idea.

It’s not something I usually do.

Okay, here are some prompts for fanfiction and/or short stories!

First of all, the universal fandom prompt:

Character you don’t often write. Random household object. Random cameo by anyone (from that fandom, real life, or other fandom, I don’t care which.) Love it, hate it, take it, or leave it?

Go!

Bruce stared tiredly at the salad spinner. It might have been staring back at him, but he wasn’t certain. If it had eyes, he couldn’t tell where they were.

Behind him, the kitchen door opened and closed. The footfalls were evenly spaced, light, but with weight behind each one. Bruce rubbed his eyes. It was just too late for this.

“I never did get the point of that contraption,” Steve Rogers said, nodding at the spinner. “Why crank something up or pop batteries in when you can just…” He mimed tossing something into the air. Bruce cracked a smile. Instantly, Steve honed in on the tiredness emanating from his fellow Avenger. “Doctor Banner… are you all right?”

“Fine. I just need to sleep for a week.” Steve half-smiled, but his concern was still obvious. It was… nice, for a change. “But I can’t yet. Delicate experiment, hours setting it up, still not quite done… Talk to me. Where have you been?”

“West coast.” Steve leaned back against the counter top; it creaked softly. “Some maniac thought that he could ‘accelerate to the next stage of evolution’ by just setting off a bigger and better bomb. Believe it or not, we actually pulled out the inner workings of the bomb–after it was deactivated–and locked him inside the casing until the cops got there. Tony offered me to stay the night in Malibu, but…” The helplessness in the younger man’s eyes pulled at Bruce’s soul. Steve and Tony were friends–he would even go so far as to say that, if they had been switched as children, they would have grown into each other–but that very likeness sometimes drove them apart. They were both stubborn, with quick tempers and often said or did things in anger that they would regret later. Steve was struggling to connect, quite literally taken aback while he tried–probably futilely–to think things out.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce sighed. He had been running too long, and while he had been away, emotion and human relationships had gotten even more complicated.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve said.

Back at the Battle of New York, just after the end, Bruce remembered looking at Steve and seeing him, twenty-seven years old, and looking very lost. Next to the rest of them, he was practically a kid.

“It’s too early in the morning to be philosophical about a salad spinner,” he said.

Steve laughed.

Now for the actual fandom prompts!

Star Wars:

Before the prequels: Obi-Wan has a rough night (is the kid sick or just not sleeping?) and Qui-Gon is trying to ignore the television in the background.

Obi-Wan doesn’t like these new shoes.

Siri is going undercover as “Miss Corellia”. Obi-Wan tries on her heels in an attempt to cheer her up but probably also succeeds in incurring injuries.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon don’t always understand each other. Of course, that’s only to be expected when their minds work on entirely different wavelengths.

Prequel Era: Anakin notices something he didn’t before. Padme lights candles. Obi-Wan writes. (Any or all of the above. Is it wrong that I love the thought of Obi-Wan with a pen and ink?)

Original Trilogy: Han makes no sense when he has a concussion. Leia hates it when people give her new lingerie pieces. Luke/Books OTP (‘nough said.) Any or all.

Avengers/Marvel:

Hair cut. Reading aloud. Cooking. Generally being domestic.

Sam Wilson being awesome.

Steve Rogers being a dork (because let’s face it, he is. He is representative of the best side of America. ^_^)

Tony Stark inventing a new language (which only Pepper can understand.)

Coulson plus hat.

Loki falls down the stairs. And sulks. And turns himself into a cat.

All the Avengers dress up as each other for a day.

Any or all, whichever you like.

(Please note: I like adding Peter Parker to the Avengers, especially when he brings out Steve’s little-kid side *winkwink*)

Doctor Who:

The Doctor has an allergy (otherwise known as the Doctor needs a doctor.)

Rose Tyler makes her own jewelry. Turns out that her mad skills with needle-nose pliers come in handy.

Mickey Smith is not a tin robot dog. He’s the only sane person aboard the TARDIS.

(This one’s for Iris!) Donna Noble is not having a good day. The Doctor tries to cheer her up, but (predictably) things don’t go as he had planned.

Window boxes are the third item on the list of things the Doctor loves about Planet Earth.

the Doctor/Owl City music OTP.

Merlin:

Merlin has a cold. This has bizarre effects on his magic. (As usual, Gaius is looking into it.)

Gaius is feeling down. Merlin tries to cheer him up. Naturally, pandemonium ensues.

Merlin cheering up Gwen/Guinevere.

Merlin is Gwen’s wingman.

Merlin ships Arwen (for those of you who haven’t heard the term before, that’s Arthur/Gwen).

Merlin vs. the Orange.

Merlin vs. the Grapefruit.

Gwaine doing ANYTHING (because the man is ridiculous and an incorrigible flirt. Seriously, he’s like they recycled Captain Jack Harkness and then added an extra gallon of ridiculous.)

Gwaine/Food OTP.

Sherlock:

John takes up photography. Mrs. Hudson gets a new photo album. Sherlock re-invents color film.

Sherlock has a new hobby.

John can cook.

John knocks Sherlock out cold.

A goat tries to eat part of Sherlock’s coat.

Lestrade is a secret musician.

*rubs hands together* There we go!

Okay, if these prompts inspire you, then please send me a link to your finished pieces–I’d love to see what you come up with!

Ready. Set.

GO!

Archivist of Selay’uu’s Journal: Fourth Of July Shenanigans

Tags

avengers, because food, brian jacques, c.s. forester, cressida cowell, doctor who, enthusiasm, fireflies, fireworks, food, horatio hornblower, how to train your dragon, humor, i have been neglecting my fandoms, independence day, j.r.r. tolkien, john flanagan, marvel, novels, ranger's apprentice, redwall, selay'uu, shame on me, shoes, star wars, taysee is the goddess of mischief and loki is jealous, the lord of the rings, writing, YEAH!

The Selay’uu Mansion has never seen such a hubbub since its founding. Not even at Christmas were things this mad (well, especially given that, on Christmas, the Doctor was probably off saving the world again; Obi-Wan was trying to arrange the New Year’s Ball on Coruscant–I swear that someone in the Senate must hate him, since it’s not protocol for a Jedi to be named Master of Ceremonies–when he wasn’t trying to restore order to the Jedi Order; Will, Gilan and Halt were celebrating in Araluen with Pauline, Alyss, and the now-royal family {Duncan, Evanlyn, and Horace}; Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship were celebrating at Sam and Rosie’s; and just about everyone else went home to celebrate with their families. I actually invited Horatio home to celebrate with us and pretended he was my date when going to some college-sponsored thing. It was all good fun.)

And the reason?

Not one, but two, of our friends’ birthdays were coming up, on the Fourth of July. Of course, one of those birthdays is pretty obvious (Steve Rogers’), but the other might surprise you.

Horatio Hornblower was born on the exact same day the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Ever since Alex, Siri, Rose and I had come to that conclusion, we had concluded there was only one thing to do–naturally, to hold a combined double birthday party and Independence Day celebration!

Of course, Gandalf was in charge of most of the fireworks, but other than that, it was up to us. Siri attacked the kitchen with gusto, explaining American staples such as potato salad to Rose with grave attention. Alex showed her artistic side with her inventively gorgeous decorations.

But now–this morning–the morning of the Fourth of July–we were into the last-minute crunch zone, and we still weren’t ready.

I was in charge of the cakes and had a corner of the kitchen to myself. Chocolate ganache was cooling on the stove, as was a coconut and pecan concoction in another pan. When in doubt, go with German chocolate and strawberry shortcake. The shortcake and strawberry sauce were already hiding in the refrigerator, Bucky was making short work of the whipped cream (with nothing other than his metal arm), and Obi-Wan, who we had taken into confidence, was outside working at the grill with Connor and Nat, who was trying to teach Connor the finer points of lighting a grill with no fluid.

I poured the last of my concoction onto the cake, shouted at Bucky that if he made a mess he’d have to clean it up himself and then make more, and heard a hiss. I whirled around and almost burst into tears as I saw the pudding I had attempted emitting black smoke. It had burned on. Hurriedly, Siri grabbed the pot and rushed it to the sink. “Boiled dry,” she said.

“I guess I’ll just have to do custard, then,” I said in defeat.

---

 

The Doctor finally brought Steve back from wherever it was they had gone, and Horatio was back from buying new shoes with Archie (we wear out an awful lot of shoes around here–mostly, I blame the Doctor). Both the Doctor and Archie were in on the surprise, so they delayed the two birthday boys outside until Bucky texted Archie to tell them that we were ready. Then they guided them inside. Bucky bulled into Steve in a tackling hug and Archie put his hand on Horatio’s shoulder as everyone shouted in unison. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Then it was chaos.

Tony Stark produced a pie tin filled with whipped cream out of nowhere and smashed it into Steve’s face– “a little white to go with your red and blue!” Horatio tried to escape, but Bush caught him–and hugged him. Steve caught Tony around the waist and picked him up, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and then sat him firmly down on the sofa next to a laughing Pepper. Will jumped on Steve from the rafters and gave him a hug. Someone started tickling Taysee, the resident youngling and purveyor of pranks and mischief, and the resulting shrieks of laughter threatened to deafen everyone. Obi-Wan clapped Horatio on the shoulder and then got tackled by Siri.

Dinner was no calmer. I pulled the pot roast out of the oven, and we put together our tremendous buffet. Fortunately, there was more than enough food for everyone. Clint Barton stuffed a whole bread roll in his mouth just to prove a point, to a chorus of “Ewws” from the girly-girls who were mostly marginalized. Calypso got over-excited and did a handstand on the table, nearly falling into the over-sized punch bowl full of lemonade. Sandy demonstrated a complex flip over the table, somehow not destroying anything as she went. Meg had expressed a desire to eat nothing but ice cream for dinner, but we convinced her to at least eat a roll first.

And then it was time for presents. Tony (of course) insisted that they open his presents first, to which everyone responded with an eyeroll and a “Sure, Tony.” But he had gotten them both lovely warm scarves, so we all chorused “Awwww”, deliberately, to embarrass him.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut had given them both incomprehensible drawings. Hiccup had entirely redesigned Steve’s gear harness with a more secure clip for the shield and a loop that would prevent it from shifting around when he did backflips. Will presented Horatio with a new pair of socks and forever debunked the myth that knitting is unmanly. The Doctor, who had recently taken apart Horatio’s watch in an attempt to fix something else, presented him with a new one, fitted with miniaturized navigational equipment, as an apology. Matthias gave Steve an IOU for lessons on how to better use his shield against opponents with bladed weapons. Everyone had come up with useful and fun things to give them. (I had knitted them each a throw, over a long stretch of time and with no little difficulty.)

At the end of the night, there was not much incident with the fireworks, except that there was a Dragon Incident (as always.) This time, though, it was not Merry and Pippin–who behaved themselves and limited themselves to setting off fountains–but the twins.

At last, we all had s’mores, even though it was a second (or even third) dessert for most of us, but who cares? S’mores don’t count, because there are always more of them.

At the end of the night, Horatio had a pocket full of fireflies and Steve had to carry Obi-Wan inside–I guess I’ve been working him too hard lately.

All in all, it was a lovely Fourth of July, and went off with surprisingly little fuss. I suppose that should make me worry about the future, but for now, I think I’ll just enjoy the moment.

Character Voice (and what exactly IS a Yankee, anyway?)

Tags

agent carter, avengers, c.s. lewis, captain america, character development, character voice, characters, dreamworks, hogan's heroes, how to train your dragon, marvel, professor v.j. duke, space trilogy, star wars, word choice, writing

Okay, I know I posted recently about something along these lines, but I just couldn’t leave it alone.

Character voice is word choice, not accent. But character voice is also defined by regionalism, and while accents are not easy to write, they can be implied.

I’ve been thinking a bit about how word use can define character voice, as well. Recently, I came across the word “nebby”, which evidently means curious to inhabitants of Pittsburgh (Thank you, Professor!), which I had not heard before.

Also, would Obi-Wan ever use slang? Or would Tony Stark ever say “You lot”? (Yes, there are British Avengers fans out there–I can not take credit for this one–someone online mentioned that they wished that there was such a thing as Reverse Brit-Picking for Avengers fanfiction. If anyone from the British Isles wants to write Avengers fanfic–I VOLUNTEER!!! I may not be from New York, but at least I can help you make them sound American. ;-P)

The other thing that inspired this post was a rambling headache. (Yes, I am sorry.)

I was thinking about how different words mean different things to different people (like, in Great Britain, a “jumper” is the same thing as a “sweater” to us. Also, instead of “cell” they say “mobile.” (Major plot point in a Sherlock episode, here. Which is really crazy because the MacGuffin thingy is the same as Agent Carter‘s.)

And then, I was thinking about my uncle who lives in New York but was not born there. Thus, to an American, he’s not a Yankee. To an American, a Yankee is a born-and-bred New Yorker (I think it’s more the city than the state, but I could be wrong.) Meanwhile, in Hogan’s Heroes the Cockney former thief, forger, and all-around conman Newkirk regularly calls his American counterparts “Yanks”. I could go into the etymology of the word, but that’s really not the point here.

The point is that tone can be regional, and you can learn quite a bit about a character, not only by their word choice, but also how they use those words.

It’s very important that each character just sounds like their role. One example of how this is brilliant: How To Train Your Dragon. From the first moment he opens his mouth, you can tell that Hiccup is the sarcastic social pariah. And the phony Scottish accents of the adults? They create an illusion of time and place, even if it’s not an entirely historically accurate illusion… (Well, most modern-day occupants of the British Isles have at least one Scandinavian ancestor… Which is why Steve Rogers can be Irish when his name doesn’t sound like it. Rogers is probably a corruption of a common surname type–Rogerson–which is sort of normal for historical Scandanavians… just like Ransom in Lewis’ Space Trilogy comes from “Ranulf’s Son”… *gets pulled off-stage by a giant hook*)

In short, whether you’re looking to emulate Faulkner or simply to try your hand at creating the regional illusion, word choice is as important as–if not more important than–accent. Maybe you won’t even need to imply accent if you use word choice correctly…

And your spell check won’t want to strangle you as you put together the final drafts of your characters’ dialogue.

You’re welcome.

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!