Star Wars :: The Pirate

[ficbitches]

Star Wars :: The Pirate and the Padawan
Review by: Leather Daddy

SCORE

PLOT: 1/5 (Save it for those weird Japanese-esque fantasy books, okay?)
CHARACTERIZATION: 0/5 ("I Was A Teenage Geisha")
WRITING: 3/5 (That's the real tragedy.)
OBI-WAN KENOBI WRITING HAIKU, DRESSING LIKE A GEISHA, AND GETTING HIS FEET BOUND: 6/5

I think it's been about six months since I last reviewed a fic. Whoops! Well, it's not as easy to pick fics to review as it might seem. If it were just crappy fics - look, the pit of voles has tens, if not hundreds of thousands of reasons why the chimpanzees are going to conquer us. I try to pick stories in one of the following categories:

a) What crack were you ON? - the premise is so ludicrous that I can't NOT review it - Balloon Ranma, Cloud having painful sex with a snowman...or
b) "More RHYTHM! Are you a MONKEY?" -the writing is fairly decent quality, but the content and/or execution is, in my mind, not anywhere nearly as coherent or original as the writing - lemons with sainted virgins and their mewling cries.

Fair enough?

I've read so many bad fics recently. There was the Harry Potter bondage slavery AU when, between the spankings and degradation, Snape criticizes Harry, Ron, and Hermione for having lousy Latin comprehension - and then promptly uses incorrect and/or fangirl Latin. (Yes, I'm aware that my priorities are screwed up.) AUs are the bane of my existence, because they're almost never done well. In fact, I decided to do an AU today just to tackle that thorny issue.

Step one: What is an AU?
AU stands for "Alternate Universe" - which translates to "Obi-Wan Kenobi, the punk-rocker" or "Methos becomes Mulder's latest partner." I have absolutely no problem with this - when Methos stays Methos, Mulder stays Mulder, and Obi-Wan...well, okay, in the case of Obi-Wan I'll settle for him taking his pants off and singing Iggy Pop songs. ^_~ The problem with 99.95% of AUs is that they have the fictional characters behaving in such bizarre, out-of-character ways that you might as well be reading original characters in an original story. And it's usually a bad, cliche-packed original story.

Case in point: Today's story, "The Pirate and the Padawan." I stared at the title, and wondered if it was another one of those high-seas swashbuckling AUs, where little virginal Obi-Wan Kenobi sneaks aboard a pirate ship run by the notorious rake Qui-Gon Jinn, and much spanking, "discipline," and high seas adventure occurs. (I shouldn't be this blase about it, should I? Oh dear.) But no, this fic contains an even more amusingly improbably premise:

Summary: This is an AU story that takes place in a world where Jedi Padawans are courtesan slaves similar to oiran. Imagine that the Jedi world of canon has been taken through the looking glass. Obi-Wan has just turned 16 at the beginning of the story. In his world, this is considered the age of majority.

I can't decide if this is fic type a) or b). Oh hell. Well, let's start off with a description of oiran, to let you know how utterly bizarre this concept is:

The training (and regulating) of ladies as professionals in the art of pleasing men is an old tradition in Japan, dating at least from the early 17th century when the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter was established in Edo. The Yoshiwara women were vital to the imaginations both of the woodblock artists and of the kabuki drama. The best classes among these women of pleasure were the oiran; an oiran could pick her lovers among the wealthiest citizens (or love a poor man as well if she chose, especially in a play!), and she might walk out elaborately dressed (brocade obi tied in front, high platform geta shoes, and the most elaborate hairstyle possible), attended by apprentices and little girls. (picture) (source)

Sooo...we have Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Japanese courtesan. I see. It would be one thing if the idea was just that he was some kind of expensive man-whore, like an oiran...but in this fic, he is an oiran! He wears silken robes, wears ornamental hairpins, mentions formal makeup, wails about his hair not being properly put up by his maids...and as later characterization proves, he was mugged in an alley by the AU goons and beaten so many times upside the head that he can't help but act like a teenage girl. I almost wish he'd shave off all his body hair with a lightsaber so we could stop having to read about him.

Okay, here we go. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Perfect Padawan Whore, has just been sold through a holovid auction to some barbarian in the Outer Rim. He'd been expecting to go to Senator Palpatine, but hey, these Outer-Rim barbarians apparently have lots of spare cash lying around. This fic has eight or nine parts, so I'm just going to summarize it part by part.

Part One:
OBI-WAN KENOBI: I'm a Padawan, which is an expensive bedslave. I've been trained in seventy-five ways of pleasuring a master, and can have fingers stuck up my ass without so much as a by-your-leave, all without endangering my virginity. Yes, that's right, I will blush and be amazed at my own bodily responses. Am I a whore? Or a nun? Whore? Nun? Whorenun! I am also very small and delicate and doll-like. All you people who are laughing at the idea of Ewan McGregor being "doll-like" in ANY of his proportions can just STOP IT, OKAY???

QUI-GON JINN: Arrrrr, I'm apparently the ever-elusive "Space Scotsman," even though Liam Neeson is Irish! Me accent's sew thick yew can barely unnerstan' me, but tha' dinna matter! I live in tha highlan's of tha Outer Rim, with me colorful batch of servants that don't treat tha Jedi prostitute boy wi' RESPECT! Me servants also have accents sew thick ye can...well, let's na talk about what yew kin do wi' our accents. Arrrr.

"I'd clean this up if I was yew. Maister'll hate the mess." Another snort of laughter. "Wha' yew need all the clothes fer I dunno. He'll jus ' tear 'em off ye."
Obi-Wan stared at Zath, rubbing the bruised skin of his arm. "What have I done to you?" he asked softly. His grey green eyes were hurt.
The man glared down at him contemptuously. "Inner Rim brat whore! As if our Maister'd need t'buy the like of you! Force knows he don't. An' yer as useful as tits on a bull. Wot'dya think'll happen when he gets bored o 'you? We'll get stuck baby-sittin' and tryin' to make yew inta somethin worth its feed. Bah!"

In all honesty, this much "color" in the dialogue gets a bit distracting. Some people may disagree, but I'd rather read a one sentence acknowledgement that these Outer-Rim ruffians spoke with a strange, thick, low-class accent than trying to constantly decipher this. It's a little bit heavy-handed - we get the point that these are uncouth dung-smeared peasants who don't appreciate a fine, fine manwhore when they see one. Moving right along...

QUI-GON: I bought meself a Padawan, and brought him back to me humble abode. It's fleas and cold stone floors for yew, boy!

OBI-WAN: But Master, I'm a really expensive whore! It's not fair! Just look at this!

By the time he dragged his limp body out of the tub, primped, powdered and and dried his hair, the housekeeping droid had finished making the enormous bed. The silken sheets, treated to meld with his own pheromones, glowed in the torchlight. Funny, he thought, he keeps glows in the bathroom only. I wonder why?
He slipped on his evening robe and smoothed the padded silken coverlet on his way to the fireplace. The material dragged across his nipples, making him gasp a little. Several months prior to his auction, he'd been given a gift of genetic modification by his sponsor: every erogenous zone of his body had been enhanced to hypersensitivity. A lovely present, but sometimes overwhelming. He settled himself into one of the large chairs by the fireside, squirming a little. Certainly, it had enhanced his sensibilities and his pleasure, but it made simple things, like the act of oiling himself for the night very intense.

OBI-WAN: But I'm too virginal for all this. I'll go straight to sleep instead of humping my magic sheets.
QUI-GON: Arrrr, I'm home! An' I smell more manly than I care ta. Gi' me a bath.
OBI-WAN: Eeek, I'm a trained pleasure slave and I'm blushing and nervous at the thought of handling Qui-Gon's mighty equipment. Oh god, he's NAKED!!

Part Two:
And there was much screwing. Our rough Scotsman plays with Obi-Wan's nipples as if he's trying to adjust the reception on his TV, and Obi-Wan's special genetic modifications make this the most exciting thing ever. And Obi-Wan bounces along on Master Jinn's pirate ship - you know, I'm really not sure why this fic is called "The Pirate and the Padawan" unless it's the fact that his accent makes me want to go "arrrrrr" constantly while I'm reading it.

OBI-WAN: /Wow, this barbarian is great in bed, but he still sucks./
QUI-GON: /This barbarian's great in bed and is Force-trained. I can heeeeeeeear you, arrrrr./
OBI-WAN: /Whoops./

In this part, we run into a fascinating turn of phrase: "Ghods above, what a travesty!" and "The ghods damn that fool!!" I had a nice conversation with Lunar Mission about what GHODS were.

Lunar Mission: It sounds like an acronym for one of those enviromental protection societies.
Leather Daddy: ...well, either an acronym, or a kind of...yak or something. Maybe a wildebeest. Something bovine, at any rate.
Lunar Mission: Keep on saying that word and I'll start to think that it's actually something dirty. Like gonads. or something.
Leather Daddy: "Put your ghods back in your pants, ghoddammit!"
Lunar Mission: Bovine, huh? So you can just stop by and grab a ghodburger while in Coruscant later?
Lunar Mission: My roomie has just suggested something. She said that "no, Ghods is actually Gackt's evil twin."
*long pause*
Leather Daddy: Oh...um...ghod.

The point I'm trying to make is that it's terribly jarring to see these made-up terms used in the framework of familiar epithets or sayings. I know it's not PC to use the term "god" in anything, but either make up a completely different word and set of sayings, or just stick with what you know. Many fics do this "ghod" and "ghoddess" shit, and it looks ridiculous each time.

OBI-WAN: I'm going to practice the sixth kata, since Master Jinn wants to see me prance around.
QUI-GON: Yer beggar kung-fu is impressive, but 'tis no match for me flyin' Jinn stance! HIYAH!
OBI-WAN: Wow! You're so graceful, and yet so unambiguously masculine!
QUI-GON: You ha' much ta learn, grasshoppa. It's called "chest hair."
OBI-WAN: I'm learning how to use a lightsaber from Master Jinn, and it's giving me these dreadful callouses! Eeeek! Must moisturize and exfoliate! And at night, I'm still riding the baloney pony, tee hee. I'm like Sailor Moon! o/~ Screwing pirates by moonlight, mincing around by daylight...o/~
QUI-GON: ARRRRR! While Obi-Wan eavesdrops on us, let's talk about our plans, Mace! We're bin rescuin' Jedi whores from tha Temple an' teachin' them ta be Real Jedi! Arrr!

I bet you're getting the idea. Well, let me just quickly summarize the rest of the fic. They train together, and Obi-Wan is apparently the vision of perfection and strongly resembles the Promised whatever. He also has quite the attitude.

Obi-Wan didn't waste another word. In a rustling swirl of silk, he strode to the door, just as it opened for him to face his Master.
"I thought I told ya--"

The boy held up one imperious hand. "I suggest you attend to your company, Master. I'll be in our quarters."

"Talk to the hand, Jinn! Three snaps in a Z formation, girlfriend!"

Qui-Gon has a talking ship with an attitude, and with all this talk of oiran and sentient ships, it's like an unholy cross between a Harlequin romance, "My Life as a Geisha," Rurouni Kenshin, and Outlawstar. Obi-Wan feeds Qui-Gon with food-sticks...as in chopsticks. This is starting to provoke such strange mental images that I can barely keep a straight face. This reads like something out of Tai-Pan, the Hong Kong sequel to James Clavell's Shogun.

'Ugh.' he thought. 'I'll need to put it up down there.' It was considered absolutely gauche for a Padawan with a Master to let his hair loose. It took him a few minutes to even find where he'd stashed the long pins. Carefully, he pulled the tawny locks up as simply as possible, savagely wishing he could chop it all off, except for the braid. When he'd finished , the heavy mass was twisted into a tail and piled on the back of his head. He just refused to even attempt the usual elaborate styles without a proper dresser. He glanced at himself in the mirror. It look a bit , well, peasanty, but would have to do.
He glared at the makeup. A lick or two here, a little kohl around the wide eyes, a brush of colour on his lips...
No, no, no, no, no. His skin was so bronzed from being outdoors!! It made him look like a painted tavern harlot. He scrubbed the colour away, leaving only his eyes ringed delicately as possible. It still made him grimace.
A lurch meant they had landed. Oh, he had taken too long!! His stomach fluttering with panic, he yanked the first solid pale silken robe over his head and struggled to pull it down over his shoulders.

Qui-Gon takes his little friend to some senatorial meeting, where Palpatine chats Obi-Wan up and kisses his hand. Qui-Gon gets jealous, slaps Obi-Wan after the meeting, and calls him a little manwhore. Obi-Wan goes home, takes a long hot bubblebath, and gets really drunk and weepy. "HE HATES ME! HE DOESN'T LOVE ME!" Obi-Wan gets kidnapped and taken to the Imperial Guard trooper, where he's shaved clean and repeatedly raped by Storm Troopers, who are genetically engineered to be sex machines. Qui-Gon goes apeshit, arrrrr's a lot, and topples the entire Empire in the effort to rescue Obi-Wan.

When Obi-Wan wakes up...

"Yes, lad. Tha's what it was all about. Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm so---"
The boy straightened, one hand raised in a sad parody of his former, imperious self.
"No, Master. I don't need to hear that you're sorry."

That kid is sassier than RuPaul.

Anyways, he honorably requests the right to commit seppuku, because he has been shamed. Qui-Gon cries like a little girl at this. Qui-Gon then realizes he loves him and sets him free, but this makes Obi-Wan think he's a soiled dove and is now going to be sold to a low-class brothel. Obi-Wan writes some haiku for no apparent reason, and weeps prettily onto a flower petal. Everyone teases him for his uncouth tanned skin and unladylike hairstyle, and Palpatine offers to buy him and get his feet bound in preparation for his new life as a pleasure boy.

Yes. Feet binding. OBI-WAN KENOBI, JEDI PADAWAN, IS TALKING ABOUT GETTING HIS FEET BOUND. Anyways, Qui-Gon has words with Palpatine, Palpatine starts frying Qui-Gon with purple lightning, Obi-Wan senses this and runs up and kills Palpatine with his ornamental hairpins.

No, I'm NOT kidding.

Are you beginning to see why I dislike AUs? Let's compare our good friend General Kenobi to this...creature. Even if the circumstances are different, where is the personality? How on earth is this Obi-Wan Kenobi? I might as well be reading a Key Fic - at least most of those aren't pretending to be fanfiction. This fic (and most AUs) doesn't even redeem itself by having an original, thought-provoking plot or characterization. What do we have here?

1. Savage brute seme who charms the uke through his unsophisticated but oh-so-thrilling lovemaking.
2. Tiny, doll-like uke prone to hissyfits and foot-stamping.
3. Main character is a whore for no apparent reason (see my last review)
3. Jealousy leading to a misunderstanding leading to...
4. Abduction and rape leading to...
5. Suicidal posturing, which makes the seme break down in tears and admit his love for the uke
6. People mocking and bullying the whore, not understanding how valuable and well-trained he is
7. Dumb hicks with stupid accents
8. "He Loves Me! He Hates Me!" seesawing melodrama
9.Mary-Sue-ish female relatives, who are sassy and bossy and always right and trying to nudge those two crazy kids together
10. HURT/COMFORT - UNORIGINAL, CLICHED HURT/COMFORT
11. Men weeping. I hate it when they do that, especially when it's described prettily. "A lone tear sparkled down the Padawan's cheek, splashing onto the letters and streaking through the black ink. Another threatened to follow, but Qui-Gon caught it on the petals of the flower, raised it to his lips and reached out one hand to touch the boy's cheek in a gentle caress. He smiled, tucking the blossom into his tunic, then rose and disappeared as silently as he had come, leaving Obi-Wan to gaze over the trembling waters with wide and wondering eyes. "

It's just an endless string of cliches strung together by fairly decent, if overdramatic writing. It pains me most when decent writers can't write to save their lives - they could be so good, if they only had a plot. Go ask the Yaoi Wizard of Oz for one. Please. For everyone's sakes.

Things that could save this fic:

1. Completely rethinking characterization,
2. Completely rethinking basic plotline, and/or
3. WRITING THIS AS ORIGINAL FICTION, IF YOU MUST.

I'm off to listen to Mr. Kenobi play the samisen, and maybe write poetry on him. ^_~ Here's a haiku for him:

Sunlight on water
I want to wear pants again
I'm a man, dammit.