character studies
Sep. 26th, 2007 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slinklingYesterday I passed several hours of train-riding by writing vignettes for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bop_radar's Character Study Challenge. Which, btw, is still going on and everybody should write stuff for it! If you'd like to find my pieces (thus far -- who knows, maybe there will be more) over there, they're on the second page of comments. But I figured I'd also make life simpler by posting them over here.
The prompts I chose were:
Smallville, Lois, Lois and her thoughts on powerful men
Growing up with the General, Lois had plenty of chances to observe powerful men and the women who attached themselves to them. She saw women who paraded around with their military or political bigshots like a world leader was just another type of status accessory: the biggest diamond, the most expensive car. She and Lucy used to call these women remoras – clinging to their men the way those parasitic fish hang onto sharks – and they laughed about them. Until Lois began to suspect that Lucy would grow up to be just like them.
And it’s not like Lois doesn’t get the appeal of a powerful man, because she totally does. It’s evolution in action, right? We’re all hard-wired to go for the shiny stuff, beauty or money or clout. And if being the General’s daughter could sometimes be a thrill-ride (because hello, how many other girls got to go to prom in a Blackhawk helicopter?), being the girlfriend of a guy like that would have its rewards too. At the end of the day they might be empty rewards, but that’s not to say you couldn’t have some fun while the day, uh, lasted.
It’s just, she knows it’s empty. She really does. And if she saw Lucy getting involved with some of the guys she’s been drawn to in the last couple years – Graham, who had more money than God; AC, who had muscles like you *would* not believe; Oliver… God, Oliver. Who had everything, except time. – but okay, anyway, if she’d seen Lucy going after these guys she would have shook her head at the sight of Little Sis chasing after the shiny ones again and again, as if “shiny” was a sexual preference.
But Lois isn’t like that. She swears she’s not. She just likes a guy who can surprise her, one who’s got a life of his own to show her. Someone who can sweep her off her feet from time to time. See, like Jimmy would be a perfect example – not that she has the slightest interest in Jimmy, but she totally approves of him for Chloe because he’s got stuff that he’s into, and he thinks and has opinions, and he goes out and does things, and he’s sweet. All good. It doesn’t matter that he’s not rich or mega-gorgeous or whatever else, because he has what it takes to make Chloe happy, bless his dweeby little heart. And that’s the kind of thing that Lois wants, only maybe in a slightly more impressive package.
Or – be honest, Lois – okay, a much more impressive package. She’s shallow, okay? But come on, a girl has to have standards. What’s she supposed to do, settle down with Clark? Please.
***
Smallville, Lex, the sky
His father used to say, “Come to the window, Lex. Take a look at that city. It’s going to be yours someday.” They’d be in his father’s office at the very top of LuthorCorp Tower, where every surface was sharp and metallic and could hurt you if you weren’t careful, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a breath-taking view of Metropolis. Literally breath-taking, in Lex’s case; one look out at that vertiginous drop always triggered his asthma, and he’d back away gasping, dizzy. His father would tsk with disappointment – and more than a hint of malice, as Lex remembers it. “You have a destiny, Lex,” he’d remind him, drawing him back to the windows and holding him there, forcing him to look. Even worse was when Lionel would make him travel by helicopter, which he seemed to take a grim pleasure in doing. “Luthors aren’t afraid,” he would hiss. “Look out at that world. How can you grasp what you won’t even face?” And Lex would squeeze his eyes shut and wheeze, clutching his inhaler. He was in the sky, and he was terrified.
When the meteors fell, it seemed like confirmation of what Lex had always known: the sky can’t be trusted. It might look benign, but it can suck your air away. It can rain fire upon you in a cornfield. Even his father was left powerless when the sky of a sudden turned deadly.
*
By the time he came to run the Smallville plant, Lex had grown into a somewhat different perspective. The meteor shower, in retrospect, had left him much stronger and healthier than he’d been before. Though it had branded him a freak, it had also burned his weakness away, like a cleansing fire. A frail and timid boy had wandered into that cornfield; a survivor came out of it. Flying over Smallville, in the moments after his Porsche hit the river’s surface, Lex felt a new assurance. He could take whatever the sky threw at him and assimilate it, conquer it, make it his own.
Coughing up water, Lex opened his eyes and looked into the face of his destiny.
***
Firefly, Simon Tam, civilization
Civilization is not a place, Simon knows. It is what we carry with us, the customs and courtesy and culture bred into us, that allow us to make peaceful havens out of new worlds. Even the old explorers on Earth-that-was understood this, though they might have taken it too literally, lugging their silver tea service through the Antarctic, or crossing the Sahara with their sturdy wooden bedroom furniture. But it’s this sort of attitude, this carrying of civilization on our backs, that makes it possible to tame a whole galaxy, to create all the many pleasant worlds therein out of what had once been barren rock. It’s the civilization Simon carries with him that allows him, for example, to treat Kaylee with the respect and care that she deserves, even when it makes her think he’s a fool. It is civilization that checks Simon’s tongue when he can see Mal being stupid and pig-headed, and that prevents him from murdering Jayne – if not from sometimes thinking about it.
River would understand this, he considers (pointlessly, because River understands everything, even in her confusion). Although River also knows about the dark side of civilization, its poisonous flowerings. The damage done to her was in the name of research, after all: brutality in the service of scientific advancement. And Mal and Zoe, too, have their legitimate gripes against the Alliance’s version of civilization. Simon is not insensitive to this. He would never argue that civilization is an absolute good. His parents were probably the most civilized people he’s ever met; he does not regret leaving them behind.
But neither will he bare his teeth when he’s angry, or grab Kaylee by the hair and drag her to his bunk. And not because he can’t, or doesn’t want to. It is in him to do these things.
To do them even once, though, would be to sacrifice everything he has ever loved. Living in a savage world is not an excuse to become savage.
He reminds himself of this at least once every day.
***
Harry Potter, Lily, after finding out Severus has joined the death eaters
She should have been nicer to him. That’s the first thing that occurs to her.
Then she pushes that thought away, labeling it mawkish and stupid. She rests a hand on her belly, which has only just begun to swell, and tells herself it’s a part of pregnancy, these silly flights of sentiment. As if there were anything in the world she could have done that would prevent Severus from going exactly where he wanted to go. The egotism! If there’s one thing her life has shown her, it’s that she can’t make anybody do anything – not her family, not James, and least of all Severus, who has stubbornly stayed in his own severe world no matter how she tried to draw him out of it.
Although maybe she didn’t try quite so hard as she might have.
But really, what could she have done? He sneered at her parents. He frightened her sister. He refused to see James as anything but a spoiled bully, long after James had (thank goodness) matured out of that phase. And alright, yes, James was horrid to him when they were boys. But in the last few years he’d been different, as different as he could be, and once or twice when they’d run into Severus in Diagon Alley, James had even followed Lily’s lead and said hello to him, though he’d stopped short of inviting the bloke for a drink. And Severus wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t even acknowledge the greeting. Severus was unyielding, that was what he had always been, there was no changing his mind once he decided on something, and Lily hoped with a sinking heart that he might find happiness on the new path he had chosen.
She hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed. And especially not by one of her friends. She hoped he wouldn’t hurt anybody.
*
When James came home and found her weeping, she wiped her tears away and tried to smile. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Just a pointless mood. Blame the baby, I expect.” And James knelt and spoke directly to her stomach.
“You in there, that’s no way to treat your mother. She loves you very much, you know.”
***
bop_radar's Character Study Challenge. Which, btw, is still going on and everybody should write stuff for it! If you'd like to find my pieces (thus far -- who knows, maybe there will be more) over there, they're on the second page of comments. But I figured I'd also make life simpler by posting them over here. The prompts I chose were:
Smallville, Lois, Lois and her thoughts on powerful men
Growing up with the General, Lois had plenty of chances to observe powerful men and the women who attached themselves to them. She saw women who paraded around with their military or political bigshots like a world leader was just another type of status accessory: the biggest diamond, the most expensive car. She and Lucy used to call these women remoras – clinging to their men the way those parasitic fish hang onto sharks – and they laughed about them. Until Lois began to suspect that Lucy would grow up to be just like them.
And it’s not like Lois doesn’t get the appeal of a powerful man, because she totally does. It’s evolution in action, right? We’re all hard-wired to go for the shiny stuff, beauty or money or clout. And if being the General’s daughter could sometimes be a thrill-ride (because hello, how many other girls got to go to prom in a Blackhawk helicopter?), being the girlfriend of a guy like that would have its rewards too. At the end of the day they might be empty rewards, but that’s not to say you couldn’t have some fun while the day, uh, lasted.
It’s just, she knows it’s empty. She really does. And if she saw Lucy getting involved with some of the guys she’s been drawn to in the last couple years – Graham, who had more money than God; AC, who had muscles like you *would* not believe; Oliver… God, Oliver. Who had everything, except time. – but okay, anyway, if she’d seen Lucy going after these guys she would have shook her head at the sight of Little Sis chasing after the shiny ones again and again, as if “shiny” was a sexual preference.
But Lois isn’t like that. She swears she’s not. She just likes a guy who can surprise her, one who’s got a life of his own to show her. Someone who can sweep her off her feet from time to time. See, like Jimmy would be a perfect example – not that she has the slightest interest in Jimmy, but she totally approves of him for Chloe because he’s got stuff that he’s into, and he thinks and has opinions, and he goes out and does things, and he’s sweet. All good. It doesn’t matter that he’s not rich or mega-gorgeous or whatever else, because he has what it takes to make Chloe happy, bless his dweeby little heart. And that’s the kind of thing that Lois wants, only maybe in a slightly more impressive package.
Or – be honest, Lois – okay, a much more impressive package. She’s shallow, okay? But come on, a girl has to have standards. What’s she supposed to do, settle down with Clark? Please.
***
Smallville, Lex, the sky
His father used to say, “Come to the window, Lex. Take a look at that city. It’s going to be yours someday.” They’d be in his father’s office at the very top of LuthorCorp Tower, where every surface was sharp and metallic and could hurt you if you weren’t careful, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a breath-taking view of Metropolis. Literally breath-taking, in Lex’s case; one look out at that vertiginous drop always triggered his asthma, and he’d back away gasping, dizzy. His father would tsk with disappointment – and more than a hint of malice, as Lex remembers it. “You have a destiny, Lex,” he’d remind him, drawing him back to the windows and holding him there, forcing him to look. Even worse was when Lionel would make him travel by helicopter, which he seemed to take a grim pleasure in doing. “Luthors aren’t afraid,” he would hiss. “Look out at that world. How can you grasp what you won’t even face?” And Lex would squeeze his eyes shut and wheeze, clutching his inhaler. He was in the sky, and he was terrified.
When the meteors fell, it seemed like confirmation of what Lex had always known: the sky can’t be trusted. It might look benign, but it can suck your air away. It can rain fire upon you in a cornfield. Even his father was left powerless when the sky of a sudden turned deadly.
*
By the time he came to run the Smallville plant, Lex had grown into a somewhat different perspective. The meteor shower, in retrospect, had left him much stronger and healthier than he’d been before. Though it had branded him a freak, it had also burned his weakness away, like a cleansing fire. A frail and timid boy had wandered into that cornfield; a survivor came out of it. Flying over Smallville, in the moments after his Porsche hit the river’s surface, Lex felt a new assurance. He could take whatever the sky threw at him and assimilate it, conquer it, make it his own.
Coughing up water, Lex opened his eyes and looked into the face of his destiny.
***
Firefly, Simon Tam, civilization
Civilization is not a place, Simon knows. It is what we carry with us, the customs and courtesy and culture bred into us, that allow us to make peaceful havens out of new worlds. Even the old explorers on Earth-that-was understood this, though they might have taken it too literally, lugging their silver tea service through the Antarctic, or crossing the Sahara with their sturdy wooden bedroom furniture. But it’s this sort of attitude, this carrying of civilization on our backs, that makes it possible to tame a whole galaxy, to create all the many pleasant worlds therein out of what had once been barren rock. It’s the civilization Simon carries with him that allows him, for example, to treat Kaylee with the respect and care that she deserves, even when it makes her think he’s a fool. It is civilization that checks Simon’s tongue when he can see Mal being stupid and pig-headed, and that prevents him from murdering Jayne – if not from sometimes thinking about it.
River would understand this, he considers (pointlessly, because River understands everything, even in her confusion). Although River also knows about the dark side of civilization, its poisonous flowerings. The damage done to her was in the name of research, after all: brutality in the service of scientific advancement. And Mal and Zoe, too, have their legitimate gripes against the Alliance’s version of civilization. Simon is not insensitive to this. He would never argue that civilization is an absolute good. His parents were probably the most civilized people he’s ever met; he does not regret leaving them behind.
But neither will he bare his teeth when he’s angry, or grab Kaylee by the hair and drag her to his bunk. And not because he can’t, or doesn’t want to. It is in him to do these things.
To do them even once, though, would be to sacrifice everything he has ever loved. Living in a savage world is not an excuse to become savage.
He reminds himself of this at least once every day.
***
Harry Potter, Lily, after finding out Severus has joined the death eaters
She should have been nicer to him. That’s the first thing that occurs to her.
Then she pushes that thought away, labeling it mawkish and stupid. She rests a hand on her belly, which has only just begun to swell, and tells herself it’s a part of pregnancy, these silly flights of sentiment. As if there were anything in the world she could have done that would prevent Severus from going exactly where he wanted to go. The egotism! If there’s one thing her life has shown her, it’s that she can’t make anybody do anything – not her family, not James, and least of all Severus, who has stubbornly stayed in his own severe world no matter how she tried to draw him out of it.
Although maybe she didn’t try quite so hard as she might have.
But really, what could she have done? He sneered at her parents. He frightened her sister. He refused to see James as anything but a spoiled bully, long after James had (thank goodness) matured out of that phase. And alright, yes, James was horrid to him when they were boys. But in the last few years he’d been different, as different as he could be, and once or twice when they’d run into Severus in Diagon Alley, James had even followed Lily’s lead and said hello to him, though he’d stopped short of inviting the bloke for a drink. And Severus wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t even acknowledge the greeting. Severus was unyielding, that was what he had always been, there was no changing his mind once he decided on something, and Lily hoped with a sinking heart that he might find happiness on the new path he had chosen.
She hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed. And especially not by one of her friends. She hoped he wouldn’t hurt anybody.
*
When James came home and found her weeping, she wiped her tears away and tried to smile. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Just a pointless mood. Blame the baby, I expect.” And James knelt and spoke directly to her stomach.
“You in there, that’s no way to treat your mother. She loves you very much, you know.”
***
