#{ my design for him has always been based on his silhouette in the mirror + a touch of william but like.

[curseofbreadbear]

todays an art day so im thinking abt doodling some redesigns for michael ...

[scope-dogg]

Knight’s and Magic: Final Thoughts

Isekai anime have been very popular in recent years, and 2017′s Knight’s and Magic was one of many cashing in on that trend, with the added twist of being a mecha series. However, what many may not realise is that the Isekai genre of anime was originally born out of the mecha genre, with the first Isekai anime arguably being the 1983 classic Aura Battler Dunbine by Yoshiyuki Tomino. While Isekai has split off and diversified into its own extremely prolific and popular genre, mecha has kept a foothold within it, and subsequently some of the greatest mecha shows have been fantasy-themed, with great titles like Magic Knight Rayearth and The Vision of Escaflowne following in Dunbine’s footsteps over the years, so really Knight’s and Magic should be viewed rather as the continuation of a fairly long tradition of fantasy mecha rather than Isekai but with robots. Adapted from the early volumes of a currently ongoing manga by the same name, it’s a short series, but one with high production values, superb mechanical design and entertaining action. It’s also a series that I ultimately simply cannot stand.

The plot setup is that Tsubasa Kurata is an unassuming but highly talented programmer working in contemporary Japan - or at least he is until he’s killed in a road traffic accident. As he dies, he has but one regret - that he’ll no longer be able to live with his hobby of building plastic model kits of giant anime robots. As is often the case with such a setup, he finds himself reborn into a fantasy kingdom called Fremevilla as the son of nobles called Ernesti Echavalier. However, to his joy, he finds out that the main weapon for fighting back against these monsters is the Silhouette Knight, a kind of gigantic magic-powered mecha. Thus, he devotes himself to the art of learning everything there is about these machines and one day building and piloting one of his very own.

There’s nothing really wrong with this premise, but Knight’s and Magic is flawed in how one-track it is. The show’s really only about one thing - how robots are cool. Of course, I agree that robots are cool. Knight’s and Magic’s lineup of robots in particular is very cool, both in their form and unique functions. However, anyone who’s actually a fan of the mecha genre knows that just having cool robots isn’t enough to carry a show - you have to have compelling characters and interesting narratives. The all-too-frequently trotted-out line of “[x mecha show] is actually good, unlike the rest of the genre, because it focuses on the characters instead of just the robots” is probably the single most effective thing you can say if you want to piss off a mecha fan, because that sentence describes literally every mecha show that was ever worth a damn, even going back to the genre’s roots in the 70s. However, it arguably doesn’t really describe Knight’s and Magic. The series’ creators come off as just as obsessed with robots as its main character, and it comes at the expense of the characters and setting. Each new episode comes with a cool new robot or a cool upgrade for an existing one, but practically none of them feature development of the setting or its characters. Fremevilla and its neighbours never come off as anything more than “generic fantasy kingdom”, the supporting cast are all cut from extremely generic-feeling moulds, and Ernesti never undergoes any growth or exhibits any notable character traits beyond “likes robots.”

Now, there have been several characters in mecha anime who are in large part defined by their dedication to giant robots as an ideal, or simply to their aesthetic, and some of these are truly excellent characters. For instance, Gai Daigoji from Nadesico, Akagi Shunsuke from Dai-Guard, Noa Izumi from Patlabor, Sei Iori from Gundam Build Fighters, or the Super Robot Wars Original character Ryusei Date. The difference between all of these and Ernesti is that being fans of robots isn’t the only thing that makes them relatable or endearing characters, whereas in Ernesti’s case it’s basically the only thing that defines his personality. It also doesn’t help that he’s perhaps the biggest Mary Sue main character that I’ve seen in a mecha anime. His gimmick is that his past-life experience as a programmer also makes him profoundly adept at magic, and that he’s a genius Silhouette Knight designer. He’s always totally successful at everything he tries and everyone loves and respects him for his accomplishments. Ironically, it’s this that makes him an unlikable character for the viewer, because, again, he has no real admirable qualities beyond liking robots and being good at making and using them. It’s a character’s struggles and tribulations that ultimately make them truly sympathetic, and Ernesti is never really challenged until right at the very end of the series, and ultimately that challenge only feels like a mild speed bump for him. This results in a series that despite all its cool robots and flashy battles is fundamentally dead as a story at its core.

However, all of this simply describes a series that I would find boring and mediocre rather than one I actively disliked in a serious way. However, this is arguably the first series I’ve watched since Gundam Seed Destiny that really ground my gears quite badly, and it all boils down to one specific moment in the show’s narrative. To explain why, I need to diverge from my usual review format and spoil not only this show, but also it’s forefather, the original mecha Isekai, Aura Battler Dunbine. I really don’t think spoilers for the former is anything to worry about but spoiling the latter is probably more of an offense. As such, the remainder of this review is below this spoiler cut:

Dunbine is not everyone’s cut of tea. It’s old, has bad animation, it’s long-winded and has a sometimes confused and scrambled narrative in accordance with some of Tomino’s worst habits. However, it was also a work of great imagination that really delivered on communicating a valuable message in some engaging ways. It’s a message that Knight’s and Magic cheerfully and infuriatingly tramples all over. Let me explain.

In Knight’s and Magic, the show’s hero is an outsider who enters into a fantasy world and uses his real-world knowledge to bring about a revolution in technology. This also happens to be the chief descriptor for a major character in Dunbine too.

However, this isn’t the description of the show’s protagonist, Show Zama.

It’s the description of the show’s villain, Shot Weapon.

Shot Weapon is the creator of the Aura Convertor, the technology that powers the show’s mecha, the Aura Battlers, and other weapons besides. The introduction of this technology destroys the peace of Dunbine’s world, Byston Well, and causes it to descend into anarchy and bloodshed. However, the real devastation doesn’t occur until Shot’s creations are transported back into our world, where they inflict destruction almost beyond imagining. Ultimately, Shot Weapon’s actions condemn him to a punishment of being forced to live forever in Byston Well in a state of eternal suffering, like Cain after murdering his brother Abel. Dunbine’s ultimate, most crucial message is that those who manufacture weapons and spread death are to be condemned.

Knight’s and Magic gave itself the exact same opportunity to deal with this exact same theme. The show’s final arc is that a kingdom called Zaloudek has accumulated vast military power and used it to invade its neighours. We get to see as they descend into a neighbouring kingdom, slaughter its just and rightful rulers and install themselves as tyrants. Now, enter Ernesti and his friends at the conquered kingdom’s borders. At this point he’s achieved his aim of creating his own unique robot called the Ikaruga, and in its first battle effortlessly dispatches the Zaloudek soldiers guarding the border. In the aftermath, he examines the wreckage of a destroyed Zaloudek Silhouette Knight. He and everyone else see the obvious - this machine, the Tyranto is based on Ernesti’s designs. Previously, one of the prototype Knights he’d constructed in an earlier arc was stolen by a mysterious foreign agent, and now it’s become clear what happened to it. The source of the military strength that’s fuelling Zaloudek’s ambitions of conquest are the new technologies that he created, reverse engineered from the stolen mecha. As he looks upon the wreck of the Tyranto, the show is presented with a unique opportunity to do something that it’s thus far not done - challenge its protagonist with the consequences of his actions. Sure, Ernesti is not exactly the same as Shot Weapon - he only wanted to create robots because he thought they were cool, while Shot Weapon wanted power. However, in this case the end result has been the same - death, destruction and oppression. Ernesti has a chance to think about whether the things he’s done are right and acknowledge that he’s at least somewhat responsible for the disaster that’s played out, even if it’s just to acknowledge that he has a duty to set things right by beating Zaloudek. This is an opportunity for him to grow as a character for the first time.

The show swerves this opportunity without flinching.

Sure, Ernesti does liberate the kingdom in the end, but it’s clear that it’s not as a result of any real moral calling. He just wanted to build more robots and fight with them. His motivation in the final battle is that he wants to destroy the enemy’s flying battleship because he’s worried that battleships might replace Silhouette Knights if he doesn’t. He remains a totally one-dimensional character right to the end.

As I said before, Ernesti’s obsession with cool robots arguably mirrors that of the creators of this show, if its myopic focus on them is anything to go by. Perhaps this seems extremely out of character for me to say, but this is an infantile obsession. Yes, I like giant robots, but I don’t like them so much that I miss the point. The core of not only the real robot genre that both Knight’s and Magic and Aura Battle Dunbine belong to despite the fantasy trappings of the show, but arguably of the mecha genre as a whole, is that technology can be a force of destruction and great evil when not used responsibly. Yes, the protagonist mecha in these shows are meant to be heroic, but only in their opposition to those who’d use technology as a tool of death and oppression. This is the core of the soul that makes mecha as a genre compelling. It’s a point that Knight’s and Magic completely misses and why it’s fundamentally a failure. It’s as if it’s trying to be what the mecha genre’s detractors try to paint it as.

That said, despite my misgivings there is entertainment to be found if you only want dumb action. But I’d highly encourage you to check out any alternative. If you want a fantasy mecha series, Dunbine, Escaflowne and Rayearth are all much more compelling stories than this - even ones I’m not so keen on like Panzer World Galient and Ryu Knight are fundamentally more interesting as stories than this. If you want a story with a mecha fanatic in the lead role, you’re much better off watching Patlabor or the chronically underrated Dai-Guard instead.

[furniturefever]

Architecture, Fashion, Furniture, and More: Virgil Abloh Made His Mark

As I mentioned in my third blog post “Fashion or furniture? Rei Kawakubo,” I have made my living for the past 4 years by reselling high end clothing online. Fashion has always been a major interest of mine, so I am always trying to stay up to date with the latest developments. Last Saturday the 28th of November, the fashion and art community had a devastating loss with the passing of Virgil Abloh. Virgil Abloh known most for his clothing designs, was a man of many monumental achievements. His parents, a painter and seamstress, immigrated from Ghana and Virgil was born in Rockford, Illinois. He attended a catholic high school until he graduated in 1998. He then went on to the University of Wisconsin-Madison to earn his Bachelor of Science degree in civil engineering in 2002. After that, in 2006 he earned his Master of Architecture from Illinois Institute of Technology. Although his degrees were in engineering and architecture, Rem Koolhaas got Virgil interested in fashion while he was working towards his masters. This led Virgil to start designing t-shirts and truly pursuing fashion. In 2009 he got an internship at Fendi in the same class as Kanye West. The two of them became close and worked closely with other friends on several creative projects the following years. In 2012, Virgil launched Pyrex Vision, his first clothing company with a youth focus that was truly the cornerstone to his revolutionary career. He shut the brand down after only a year, as it was only meant to be an artistic experiment. The experiment was a proof of concept which led to the founding of Off-White in 2013. Off-White, focused on high-end streetwear looks, was Virgil’s first fashion house.

The brand saw massive growth in the following years which led to Virgil’s first furniture venture in 2016. The debut collection under the Off-White label was titled “Grey Area,” which ties back to Virgil’s description of Off-White as “The gray area between black and white.” With this collection, one could see the clear influence of architectural studies with his use of simple iron grid panels and slabs of marble. The iron grid construction leaves large gaps of space which create interesting silhouettes. For example, the chair and couch seats almost look to be floating. Also, the emptiness in each piece of furniture gives off the idea of it only being a prototype or a work in progress. This idea of constantly building and workshopping is one that can be seen present in all of Abloh’s work. The square grid pattern was complemented with large rectangular leather cushions and marble tabletops. The simple designs and stacking give off the idea of the furniture being building blocks that were snapped together. In the first collection the Iron grid pieces we’re all white or black however, in 2017 Virgil released a “Gradient Furniture” collection. The pieces included tables and desks with legs and bases made of the same iron grid material however these had colorful gradient patterns across them. The grid with gradient effect is very interesting to look at, again because of the emptiness the grid leaves behind. In 2018 not only did Virgil become the artistic director of Louis Vuitton’s menswear line making him the first person of color to be given the type of position at a major classic fashion house, but he also began a collaboration with Swedish furniture company, IKEA. His IKEA collection titled “Markerad” or “Clear-Cut” in English, released the next year and contained contemporary designed practical furniture. The collection also included décor items like rugs, blankets, clocks, and mirrors which sold out instantly along with the furniture. Although, furniture was not his main focus, Virgil Abloh deserves to be honored in this blog as an extremely influential designer whose work across many different mediums has influenced an entire generation and many more to come.

[meeth-designresearch2]

Methods - Identifying the work of others

Luke Nicholas - @SonyNZ Digital Imaging Advocate

Luke is someone I have been following for quite some time now on Instagram. He specialises in Urban, Cityscape & Night Photography in and around Auckland. He has a unique style of editing which can easily be identified once looking through his work and I look up to him as a photographer, he posts a lot of unique and also helpful content for other photographers. The reason I chose this photo of his in particular as it features many different aspects of photography in one image. He’s used a time slice effect, long exposure and had to be extremely patient to get all 8 images then combine them into one. This image consists of 8 separate shots all taken at different times during the sunset. All carefully selected to show the change of light. This was very unique and something you don't quite see often. More of his work is available to be viewed on Instagram - @lukenicholas

Mike - @northborders​ (Instagram)

Mike is a photographer I discovered on Instagram and YouTube 2 to 3 years ago. He does all types of amazing photography but has a niche in urban, city, and automotive photography. I selected this as a photo to analyse as I’ve wanted to execute something similar but I’m just waiting for the right time and place for it. I think he's based in Melbourne which has a lot of trams and he's used that to create a cool long exposure effect with his subject in the middle. I have also seen him mirroring and blending another image in when he wants a similar look on both sides so that's what I’m guessing he did here unless he got really lucky and two trams actually went past at the same time. Nonetheless, very cool photo, I will definitely be doing something similar personally in the near future. 

Badlapur - Bollywood Movie Poster (2015) 

I’ve only started really getting into Bollywood movies a few years ago, I’ve grown up watching them. Because of my interest in design, movie posters are things that always excite me. Each poster has it’s own message that it’s trying to convey based on what it’s about. Badlapur is actually a city in the Maharashtra State in India. “Badla” means “revenge” in Hindi and that is basically what the movie is about. It belongs to the neo-noir action thriller genre. The reason that I really like this poster is how the designer has used double exposures to in a way show two personalities/mindsets as a dark silhouette of the main protagonist. The fire on the left is also integrated nicely with a soft edge just to add more energy into the poster. Anger is definitely one of the driving forces that is fuelling the protagonist along with the traumatic events that happened to his family. The striking red font certainly gives the impression of something negative and significant which matches with the rest of the design elements used in the poster. 

Fan - Bollywood Movie Poster (2016)

I absolutely love this poster. Both the roles in the movie are played by Shah Rukh Khan who's playing a double role in this movie but with more prosthetics for one of the roles. This movie also belongs to the action thriller genre. If I didn’t already know about the events which occur in the movie I would been interested in finding out if I was looking at it for the first time. The colours play a key part in grabbing the viewers attention showcasing a due lighting effect. It’s showing how both personalities could possibly be contrasting with each other. The shards of glass would also make the viewer wonder why and for what reason it is shown in that way. It creates questions - why? how? who? which ultimately provokes the viewer looking at the poster to watch the movie. 

[dr-astormylasthurrah]

DR:ASLH AMA (10/21/2020)

so today i decided to sit down and answer a whole bunch of questions on discord!

this DOES contain spoilers up through the end of ch5, just a warning! if you’re on mobile i’m so sorry.

Who is your favorite character?

THAT IS THE MEANEST QUESTION YOU COULD EVER ASK DID YOU KNOW THIS. This varies a lot depending on the day but usually... tied Chiyo/Tatsumaru. I love them both so much. I think Ryouji's my favorite to write, though. If ASLH were someone else's story, I think my favorite would undeniably be Chiyo, because I'm nearly always biased towards protagonists.

What’s been the most enjoyable part of the story process? Why?

Honestly? Getting to see how people react to it. It's the validation luv. Maybe it's selfish, but I really do like seeing how people are affected by my work LOL.

who is on what side of the pineapple on pizza discourse?

Likes it: Amal, Kanemori, Claude, Aster Neutral: Tristan, Tatsumaru, Sentarou Hates it: Ryouji, Chiyo, Ririka, Brendan Doesn't like pizza: Tiana, Hirono, Alexei, Tsukino, Iris Ryouji, Chiyo, and Ririka make fun of Amal.

For the trials of aslh, which trial has been your favorite so far? In terms of planning the case itself, plot beats, character developments, anything really. But which one still makes you lose it when you think about it.

That's a tough one, I don't like writing trials. I liked the structure of ch3, though. The way that the trial stops being "who killed Amal" and instead becomes "who is Aster". The Tatsu POV. The story title drop. And the way the execution just wrecks everything, immediately? Yeah, vibes.

I also feel like ch4's trial deserves a special mention because of how I wrote it while I was sick with the flu, and yet if you ask me that was still probably the most emotionally intense trial- wait I forgot ch2- and ch5- y'know what, forget it. At least it's on par!

If you could change anything about aslh on any level, what would it be & why?

In general, I think it needed more planning. I'm a very on-the-fly planner and writer, but there were a lot of unknowns I didn't consider until late-game that made it hard to bring up and resolve cleanly. It could also probably have used a little bit more clarity with regards to the lore - things like "how does the memory replacement work" weren't decided until super late in the project. I didn't have a backstory for Tatsu until I wrote ch2 or ch3, so before that point their scars were much less extensive and I think they were cut-shaped instead of burns? That was kind of important for at least continuity's sake, and it irks me.

Also, Hirono deserved better. I didn't plan out her arc as extensively as the others (she was, pre-story, the last survivor to be locked and she had traded with Kanemori), so she sort of stagnated in the story. Which wasn't a bad thing, because not everyone's going to get shoved off a balcony or watch their friend get shot, but it kind of sucks that the most "defining" moment she had was that Ririka and Iris died, neither of which she actually witnessed, or the name confession in ch4 trial which kind of got brushed over. Like all the rest of the survivors have Big Defining Moments, except her.

To be honest, ASLH is the first huge writing project I've ever completed, so there's a lot of things I could have done better. But it was also the first huge writing project I've ever completed, so I'm cutting myself some slack there.

What's your philosophy, or even your strategy when it comes to character design? What do you go for first or emphasize, where do you think you could experiment more?

Most of my designs are based around a core "ooh I want to try this thing". Sometimes I take character inspirations, sometimes it's a cool garment, sometimes I'm just redesigning characters. I mostly emphasize clothing, patterns, and colors, but I also reuse a lot of the same clothing styles and patterns. I could definitely experiment more with shape language and silhouette - usually, that's like the last thing I think about, but one of the more important things to have in an ensemble cast. Mostly, though, I just like drawing clothes.

What do you think is the crowning moment of aslh? Like if someone asked you what would be a moment that gets to the heart of the story the most. What would it be?

DEFINITELY the ch5 execution. Like, the emotional resonance? The narration shift? The drama of it all? Peak ASLHcore.

what factored most into your decision-making progress? why did you decide this death order and this mastermind(s)?

My decision making process is entirely me sitting in a fugue state mumbling out details that I need to fix and then sporadically sitting bolt upright and screaming a parallel or tangent I've pieced together.

The mastermind question is easier to put together - I'd always had in mind that this was going to be a revenge game, and that one mastermind was so difficult to take seriously it wasn't even funny and that the other decided to bail halfway through. So I built the characters around that. The points I usually pay attention to with fangan planning (these days) are: ch1 is to establish the status quo and tone of the story, ch3 is to overturn the status quo, and ch5 forces ch6 to happen. So the ch3 case revolved around Sen dying, and then I was like "how can I fuck up the status quo more" and killed Amal and Aster too.

The biggest factor in my decision making process is "what would be really cool". I tend to make a lot of decisions that fuck up the structure of what a fangan "should" be because I think it goes hard as hell when we throw out rules that the characters are unaware of anyway.

was there a draft of aslh that looks drastically different from what we ended up with?

Great question, and fuck you for reminding me!

ASLH actually started as a bullet point fangan called What Tempestuous Despair. It was a much more international cast until I was like "fangans are supposed to be mostly Japanese casts!" and changed a bunch of characters' nationalities, which in hindsight was dumb. Ririka, Kanemori, Tsukino, and Iris were victims of this. Also Amal was the protagonist and I am SO GLAD that didn't stick they are SO DIFFICULT to write the POV from.

I've spoken on a few occasions about how the cast itself changed, and I never got around to plotting out arcs (other than "Amal learns to trust people and allows themself to truly grieve Rin after holding everyone at length for so long"), but some assorted things:

The cast had a bunch of characters who were swapped out. Included in this tally are Rin Matsumoto (whose personality was recycled into Hisaichi, Ryouji's cousin, and their name was recycled into Shuichi's school friend), Leon Mercury Kahahawai (who’s in CYAH), Haywire Asturias, Puck Ganka (who’s also in CYAH), a few characters/designs who I ended up giving away... And also Hayato Kikuchi.

Iris was always a killer, because I really wanted her to have a downfall-that-wasn't-a-downfall-but-rather-a-reflection-of-the-true-self arc. This was always a lategame case so I'd have time to establish her as terrible. Originally, she killed Leon.

Tiana was also always a killer. I think he killed Hayato via electrocution, so as you can tell that's always been around in some form or another.

(Tristan killing Chiyo in ch5 in the current version, btw, was specifically to mirror Tiana's murder. While Tiana killed to get themself out of the KG, Tristan killed to get everyone else out.)

who was considered for mastermind throughout making aslh? what would their reasons have been?

The masterminds have never changed, except that the characters for them didn't exist back in WTD. But the personalities of the characters they replaced were about 1:1 anyway, so yeah basically they've never changed.

what is one thing you really loved about the beta and what is one thing you really hated about the beta

One thing I really loved about the beta was the ch3 case (which I've spoken about at length before), but other than that... honestly Tiana? Tiana's the one character that I had fully developed as of WTD, they just sprung into my head completely materialized. Their entire personality and design somehow stayed the same since conceptualization.

One thing I really hated? I would say "all of it", but specifically, we don't talk about white Tristan. That was so bad. I was trying so hard to design him so that he'd look nonthreatening and I was like "why is this so hard" and then I changed his ethnicity and I was like "oh right, white gamer boy characters just have cursed energies" and moved on with my life.

what would be an ideal day for tiana murdock. what would make them happy.

An ideal day is honestly one where they get a lot done. They're not one to relax or know what to do with free time, but they get a lot of satisfaction out of being productive, so if they manage to finish a lot of work and not end up exhausted? They're happy. They've probably gotta work on learning to enjoy their free time. They do like traveling, though, and- oh my god I should make them friends with Tsukino.

What would the cast's careers be if they lived to be adults?

Chiyo: Elementary school teacher and scifi author! Really wish I'd leaned more into the fact that she loves scifi, honestly. Amal: Journalist, probably, except they'd actually take classes in it this time instead of just writing op-eds constantly Tatsumaru: LIBRARIAN TATSU TRUE ENDING!!! Sentarou: Freelance pianist/composer. I have this whole headverse where he and Alexei are somehow friends with Claude, and together they plot to kill Enji Sekisada. Or Claude and Alexei plot to kill Enji and Sen sits there with his head in his hands. Iris: In universes where she's able to reconcile with academia, she works in ecology + chemistry. In universes where she doesn't, she's a florist. Aster: SERIOUSLY depends on the AU because every time I try to put Aster in a normal AU they're different. Jokes about becoming a flight attendant to travel with Tsukino. Claude: Secretary. No, seriously. May have something to do with killing Enji Sekisada. Hirono: Photojournalist! Photography reminds her of Ekuko. :') Alexei: Veterinary assistant for a specialized bird clinic Tsukino: Pilot, obviously Brendan: Mechanical engineer but sometime around age 30 has enough stress to just quit and become a college professor instead. Tiana: Museum docent, he's coworkers with Laurent Sinclair thanks Ryouji: He's... not sure. In normal AUs does take up food service for a while before getting uncomfortable with his family and quitting. In ASLH canon, he skips this step and goes into law with the intent of helping other killing game survivors sort out their lives. Tristan: Web designer, still makes a few games on the side with his friends. Mostly point and clicks because he ain't about this life Kanemori: Volleyball coach, because he knows a lot more about that than soccer honestly

what part of aslh was the hardest to write?

Deadly life. Always. I can crank the chapters out really fast, but I hate the case part of fangans and they're painful to plan.

For each case, what is your out of universe reason for wanting each person to die when? Like not counting the motives or anything, but why you wanted each person to die then?

- Brendan: He was the OC I had the longest. He had to die. Goodbye you little shit. - Kanemori: He was actually a survivor originally, and Hirono was the ch1 killer for the same "OC longevity" reason but then I realized I don't have anything for Kanemori to do. So... Sorry dude.

- Claude: Y'all ever notice how no one... EVER... puts plot relevant information in ch2s? Anyway. - Tiana: As discussed, they've always been a killer. Putting them as a killer here was a good balance - far enough from ch1 to build up their relationship with Tristan, but also not so far into the story that it conflicts with the general endgame fall-apart-ness.

- Amal, Sentarou, Aster: This case sprung into my head entirely materialized. Like, this was the one that BUILT the story, so it didn't change much. Mostly I just thought it'd be narratively fun to kill off the deuteragonist, the mastermind, AND the ??? in one go. I didn't plan for Chiyal to be a thing so when that became a thing this chapter got better/worse.

- Iris: I always wanted her to be a killer to really expose that "she's not a good person" stuff (she was more of a snake in WTD), but she didn't become a victim until when I was actually writing. She was supposed to have a trial and then I got sick of writing her. Whoops. - Ririka: I had arc ideas for everyone else, and it could have gone either way between Ryouji and Ririka getting that "close to my best friend who is now dead"... in the end it went down to gender balance in survivors. At the time it was Ryouji or Ririka + Kanemori + Tsukino + Tatsumaru, but then once Kanemori got swapped to Hirono just... yeahhh Ririka got stuck in ch4. Sorry. - Alexei: Special shoutout, he was supposed to die in ch4 as just an "oh no this is what happened, how sad" but then it was super narratively unsatisfying and now he's alive.

- Chiyo: For the sake of pain. But like, poignant, meaningful pain. I don't believe in making plot decisions just because they hurt, they've also got to mean something. Considering that a major theme of the story is "death before its time is a complete tragedy", and Chiyo's motifs include death... uh. Yeah... yeah. When it came time to ask myself who'd die in ch5 for this motive, well. I miss Chiyo. - Tristan: Meant to mirror Tiana's killing in ch2, as stated above, had the "selfish kill vs selfless kill" thing. Look if you're going to have a duo in a fangan and don't get to make cool dichotomy/theming what's the POINT. Ended up surviving because when there were only four survivors, there were... really no stakes for the ch6 trial.

- Tatsumaru: I just wanted them to be alive. I didn't know WHY, exactly... I just knew I needed them to live. So. I guess they're alive? Also I thought it'd be really interesting to have a killer protagonist, and a remorseful killer protagonist. - Ryouji: To be honest I didn't have a solid arc for him, aside from Ririka's death I'd decided I was going to figure it out as I went. And I guess I did? I love him. And not gonna lie, since Tatsu became the protagonist and Ryouji's still pissed at them, the perspective/dynamic became VERY INTERESTING. - Tsukino: Originally in beta!ASLH, her schtick was "gilded exterior with a heart of jerk with a hidden, smaller heart of gold" but that didn't transfer over to ASLH itself. Then when I realized "oh shit Tsukino wants to be a hero" it was all over. At first her arc was very "tone yourself down and stop rushing into things" which wasn't... ideal, I think you can still be enthusiastic and upbeat while being mindful and that was not how I had gone about it lol. Fun fact, Tsukino's survived every draft of ASLH, including the beta one - I think she and Amal were closer friends in that. - Hirono: See Kanemori, I just thought she had more survivor potential than him. The problem was that by the time I made the decision to swap them, everyone else was sort of locked by necessity, so Hirono became a survivor by default. Again, I didn't quite have an idea of what she was going to do other than get leeched off of by Iris. Ririka wasn't even part of it, we just had that cooking thing in 2-3 and Ririka was like "this is my problem now" and I was like "what?" so now we're here.

What's everyone's coffee/tea/other preferences?

Coffee: Tiana, Tristan, Brendan Tea: RYOUJI, Tatsumaru, Chiyo, Iris Hot chocolate: Claude, Sentarou Soda: Amal, Ririka Soda but only fruit flavored: Tsukino Water, thanks: Aster, Kanemori, Hirono, Alexei

What was the hardest decision to make, writing wise, for aslh? Like you wanted the story to go one way, but you couldn't force it, or a scene you felt you needed but was difficult to decide upon, anything like that?

Hm... okay see the thing is I'm generally pretty good at writing on the fly so if I make decisions I CAN force them to happen, so there's really not too much that comes to mind. Mostly this happens with trials - I make outlines for my trials and drag my cast along with it. Except they tend to go off-topic, and then I have to drag them back on topic. And sometimes the points don't make sense when you go out of order so I have to ad lib stuff. Ch4 trial was the most off-script one, it was supposed to be a lot slower and made more sense but then the cast just went out of order and I was bonking my head against the wall trying to get it to make sense.

The only real thing I had consistent difficulty with is locations. I did not fucking plan any of this shit and hate making maps so much- oh my god I need to do the ch6 map still.

who would deliberately salt their coffee and who would accidentally do it

Deliberately: Tristan, Tiana, Tsukino, Hirono Accidentally: Kanemori, Amal, Sentarou, Chiyo, Brendan, Iris "Why?": Claude, Alexei, Aster, Tatsumaru, Ryouji, Ririka

[airis-paris14]

Redemption 12

Summary: One person, a secret, and an ocean tore them apart. Six years later they find their way back together, but a rekindled love is not Redemption.

  “Someone is in a good mood,” Melanie observes from behind her sewing machine. “I am always in a good mood,”Zari grins. “Never THIS good though. You’re glowing too. Did you get laid last night! Baby daddy really know how to put it down!” Melanie squealed. “Shut up!” Zari threw a piece of fabric at her.

“You did!”Melanie screeched. “No I didn’t,” Zari insisted. 

“Didn’t what?” Renee asked, walking into the room, sweat covering her skin. “Oh lord,” Zari rolled her eyes. “Hello to you too.” Renee laughed. “Zari got laid by baby daddy last night,”Melanie explained. “Really?” Renee gasped. “Noo!” Zari insisted. “Oh it must’ve been good. She’s in denial she thinks it was just a dream.” Renee stage whispered. “For the last time we didn’t have sex.” 

“How big was it sis,” Melanie asked. “If y’all don’t leave me alone,”Zari sighed. “Well something is going on because you got that glow baby girl. Got it bad.” Renee settled into a chair. “If you must know, he is taking me out tonight after work.”Zari revealed. “What are you wearing? I didn’t see a change of clothes,”Melanie searched the room. “Why? What’s wrong with these?”Zari scoffed. “Sis! He’s a king!” Melanie exclaimed. 

“Ok?” 

“Renee please explain,” Melanie looked to the actress for back up. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I honestly do know. He said it was a surprise.” Zari though back. “How are we supposed to dress a surprise?” Melanie wailed. “I still think I look fine.” Zari insisted. “So do I,” Renee admitted. “Y’all,” Melanie pointed at both of them in turn, “Are disappointments.” Zari chuckled. 

“Knock knock,” Geoff and Lin rounded the corner. “We come bearing gifts from the king,” Lin declared. The three women shot daggers at him. Melanie gestured at Geoff. Lin’s face contorted into an ‘o’. “King? I thought he was her boyfriend.” Geoff stared at everyone. “Yeah, that’s just a nickname we gave him,” Lin back tracked. “Okay,”Geoff drawled placing the box in front of Zari. They all stared expectantly at the designer while she continued working. She looked up into the silence, “What?” 

“You aren’t going to open it?” Renee asked. “Will that make you all leave me alone?” A mixture of no’s and yeses floated around the room. “Fine,’ Zari pulled the large red ribbon off of the box. A note fell from out of the bow. I hope you like it - T”Challa. Zari knitted her eyebrows reading the note once more. “I hope you like it?” She mumbled

“Zar!” Melanie cried pulling open the white box on the table. “What?” The designer turned her mouthing forming an ‘o’. A long blue and gold dress sat nestled in the box. The beading sparkled in the studio lights. The corset too was outlined with gold trim as the full white skirt flowed down to the ground. “I think  this answers the question,” Melanie mumbled, “you don’t dress for a surprise. He dresses you”

 “This is a Versace,” Zari breathed. “I saw it on the runway less than two weeks ago.” “Never thought I’d ever see one in real life,”Renee sighed. 

“What does he do for a living?” Geoffrey frowned. “Politics,” The trio plus Lin replied in unison. “I didn’t know politicians made that much.”

“He’s special,” Zari offered. “Try it on. Make sure it fits!” Melanie pushed. “Mel, We have work to do.” 

“It can wait. I want to see this dress,” Lin spoke up. “I don’t know. I’ve really gotta get this done.”

The group shot daggers in her direction, “or not,” The seamstress sighed, inwardly smiling at the prospect of putting on the dress. Melanie immediately followed behind her to zip the back for her. Zari held her breath as the zipper ventured it’s way up her back. Only taking a breath when it clicked at the top. 

“You look absolutely stunning Zari,” Melanie gushed running into the costume closet to find some shoes. Zari slowly ran her hands over the beading as her friend rambled in the background. Time seemed to slow as she turned to face the mirror. Barely registering any part of Melanie’s questions. Her heart jumped a little at the first sight of her own reflection. The dress hugged her perfectly and seemed to dazzle in the filtered fluorescent lights. 

“Zar, you good?” Melanie’s voice penetrated her awe. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” the designer cleared her head before walking back into the main area. She gently pushed the curtains out of her way and blushed at Lin and Geoff’s faces. “Wow,” Lin murmured.

“Who the, where the fuck has this Zari been hiding?” Geoff added. “Shut up,” Renee popped the actor up the side of his head. “You look beautiful Zari.” Renee smiled handing her a pair of shoes to match the dress. 

“Thanks guys. I should probably get out of this now.” The designer blushed. “Yeah of course. We should go.” Lin smiled pushing Geoff out the door. “Have fun tonight Zari,” Lin winked before following Geoff out the door. Melanie quickly helped her undress and repack the dress for that night. 

“So, I’m staying behind to help you get ready for tonight.” Melanie asserted. “Mel, that isn’t necessary,” the designer responded, rethreading her sewing machine. “Okay. But I want to so…. I’m going to help you.” She replied, hand stitching a small tear in a pair of pants. “Whatever,” Zari sighed, grinning in her corner. “It’s okay, you don’t have to thank me right now,” Melanie grinned. The buzzing of Zari’s phone interrupted the relaxing silence that followed. 

I’ll pick you up from the theatre at 9. 

I know you like to work late. 

Zari grinned at her phone. See you then, she responded, grinning at the phone. 

“What time is lover boy coming anyway?” 

“He just text,” Zari started, placing her phone back on the table. “ 9. I understand if you can’t wait that late,” the friend offered. 

“What else would I be doing Zar? Just let me be a supportive friend ok?” Melanie reprimanded her. The young mom raising her hands in defense, “Fine, waste your evening.” Zari laughed. “Thank you.”

“Ok, he’s outside. How do I look?” Zari asked her friend, running her hands over the embroidery of her dress. “You look beautiful, stop worrying,”Melanie smiled, grabbing both of Zari’s hands. “He’s already head over heels. Just have fun.”

“Okay,” Zari breathed. “You got this!” Melanie reassured before sending the designer on her way. After making sure Melanie would lock up for her Zari began the quick walk to the theatre entrance.

Her heels kept time with her breathing. She paused slightly at the front door before pushing it open. T’Challa’s silhouette at the base of the stairs caught her attention. He turned to her smiling as he heard the door close. 

Zari tried to keep the grin off her face in vain as T’Challa’s mouth dropped open slightly. The king froze for a second before jogging up the stairs to meet her. “You, look ravishing,” he smiled, causing Zari to blush. “Thank you,” she accepted his hand as he helped her into the car. He quickly helped her in before making his way back to the driver’s side. 

“How was work today?” Zari missed the question as she watched the muscles in T’Challa’s arms ripple as he pulled the car into gear. “Zar? You ok?” the king smirked. “Oh yeah, it was fine. Got a lot of work done. “Good. I hope you like the dress?”

“Like,” the woman sat up in her seat. “I love it T’Challa! I can’t imagine how much it cost you though, thank you, truly.” Zari smiled. Admiring the young King’s profile. “Nothing is ever too much for you Zari. Besides, I never got to see you in a beautiful dress, since you missed prom..” T’Challa trailed off, frowning softly. “I’m here now. You’re here now.” She placed a hand on his thigh, tracing soft circles. The couple settled into silence the only sound being T’Challa clearing his throat. The seamstress continued tracing lazy circles on his thigh. “Zari,” groaned out, “if you keep doing that, that dress won’t make it to the end of the night on your body love.” 

“Sorry,” the women quickly drew her hand away, smiling shyly as she apologized. 

T’Challa gracefully maneuvered the car close to the curb when they arrived at the restaurant. He handed the keys to a valet and rushed over to help Zari from the car. Lights flashed around the couple as they made their way into the restaurant. The host showed the two to a semi secluded table at the back of the restaurant. 

Zari shifted in her seat, tucking her dress in around herself. “T’Challa, I feel so overdressed.” she whispered. “You are, but you look breathtaking.” the king grinned.

“T’Challa,” the mom whined. “I am sorry but I wanted to see you in that dress. As soon as my stylist sent me the picture, I knew I wanted you in it. Tonight.”

“Besides you look like a true Queen,” his eyes twinkled as he grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. He placed another on Zari’s palm before opening his menu. 

When the waiter came around once more, the couple placed their orders and fell into small talk. Work,Aiden, and work again were the main topics. Everything was going beautifully, until it wasn’t.

“Your majesty, I sincerely apologize, but we are out of Tilapia for the lady’s choice of dinner.” the young man frowned. Eyes flittering between T’Challa and Zari. “Are you absolutely sure you are out? I called your Chef ahead of time to make sure that he had any and all ingredients on deck!”

I apologize your majesty. There was more than likely a mistake on behalf of our line cooks. The chef assures me that if the markets were open he would run and pick up the freshest fish himself. “I am sure he would,” T’Challa muttered. Zari suppressed a laugh, and her disappointment as she turned to the young waiter. Strategically placing her hand atop T’Challa’s to calm him. “May I have the same as he ordered?”

“Of course.,” the young man shot her a soft smile. 

“You called ahead?” the bronze skinned woman teased. “I just wanted everything to be perfect for you. For us.” The king sighed, gripping her hand in his once more. “It is perfec-” a round of coughing from a table nearby interrupted her sentence. The two glanced over at the woman, watching as she  coughed directly into the palm of her hand. “By bast, will she be alright,” the king muttered. Zari laughed, “as I was saying-” the woman’s coughing broke out once more. 

“For Bast’s sake, can I finish a sentence,” Zari sighed, turning to watch the woman once again struggle to contain her coughing.

“It is not her fault love,” the king began to grin as well. “I know, but still,” Zari laughed, unbeknownst to her, she encouraged the king to do the same. “Anyway. It is perfect.  I am here with you.” The king grinned at the love of his life over the table. The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their food. The two took  a moment to orient themselves with the plate before digging in. Soon matching frowns blossomed over their features. “Is yours a little..” Zari started, clearing her throat. 

“Dry, flavorless, disgusting?” the king finished. “I was gonna say unpleasant, but those work too. The designer laughed, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’m sorry my love, Shuri told me that this was a good restaurant to go to. Either their burgers are out of this world, or my sister has no taste buds.”

“It is fine.” Zari smiled. “But if you want good burgers, I can take you to a better place.” 

“That sounds wonderful.” The king smiled. He quickly took some bills out of his wallet before escorting Zari out of the restaurant. The two sat huddled together against the autumn chill of the city, the king’s armed wrapped around Zari’s waist. Pulling her close as his fingers traced patterns on her hip. “I love you,” he murmured into her fluffy twist out. The young woman smiled, inhaling the sent of him when he placed a lingering kiss to her forhead. “I love you too,” she smiled, as the car cruised to a stop in front of them.”

With a reluctant squeeze the king released her hip to open the car door. She allowed him to shut the door for her, and he gracefully moved around to his side of the car. 

A short set of directions, and a brief phonecall  later, the two pulled up to a small storefront restaurant. 

“I’ll be right back,” Zari smiled, hopping out of the car, and moving as quickly as her dress would allow. She ran in and hugged an older black man, before accepting two bags. She raced back out to the car and hopped in, shaking the brown bags as T’Challa pulled off. “Where to?”

“How about a little trip to the water? A friend owes me a favor.” 

Zari gave some directions and T’Challa followed as they pulled into a park along the banks of the Hudson River. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” Zari leaned closer to the king’s face. His pillowy lips millimeters from her own. “And don’t eat my food while I’m gone.” She breathed before hopping out of the car. “Her laugh followed her a little ways down the street. T’Challa let out his own chuckle as he watched her maneuver her way onto a medium sized ship. He hadn’t noticed it before, but that was not surprising. He rarely noticed anything other than Zari when she was around. 

Even now, only Aiden was the occasional exemption to the rule. Occasional. 

“He was pulled from his throughts by a soft knock on the door. An older black couple stood at the door.” T’Challa hesistantly rolled down the window. “Challa?” The older woman asked. “Zari sent us to come fetch you.”

The king inadvertently tensed. “Don’t worry young man. I promise she is safe inside your majesty,” the couple both quickly crossed their arms in a miniature x. “Lead the way,” T’Challa smiled stepping out of the car. Distrust still present but pushed to the back of his mind. He locked the car and followed the older couple up a short gangplank and into the bowels of a small yacht. 

“I am Kedu and this is my wife Imina. I rent yachts and charter private tours. While she delivers and midwife’s children. Especially for Wakandan war dogs or expatriots.” the Man explains as his wife slips down a separate hallway. 

The two men venture into the living quarters of the ship. “Is this how you met Zari?” 

“It is,” the old man smiled, gesturing for the king to take a seat on the couch. “One of the sweetest girls I ever met. Poor thing. Imina delivered her child and we took her, them, in as our own. Never would tell us who the father was. We didn’t push to hard. It is none of our business either way.” 

The king frowned slightly before hearing footsteps approach. Both women turned to watch the respective women of their lives appear from the kitchen. Imina walked over and gently grabbed her husband's hand. They bowed before their king before venturing off. 

T’Challa turned to Zari. “The ship is ours for the night. They live in a house next door and assured me that it’s fine,” Zari rambled slightly as she placed to plates with burgers and fries on a small dining table. 

The wall of windows surrounding the room, displayed the New York Skyline in all of its beauty. The king chuckled slightly. Walking over and slightly backing Zari into a corner. He placed his hands on either side of her. “It’s perfect.”

He placed a kiss to her lips, before moving to pull out her chair. “Shall we?”

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @kumkaniudaku @royallyprincesslilly @oceanscorazon @sisterwifeudaku @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @hutchj @tchoking @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @sarcastic-sunshines @waitingonafriend @faatassbitch

[simplyfandomish]

Cursed Roses (1/_)

Stucky x Reader 

~Beauty and the Beast AU~

|| 2 || 3 ||

Words: 2074

For years Steve Rogers couldn't place it. Ever since he was young, his dreams were always plagued by the silhouette of a grand castle with gardens full of sweet smelling roses. As well as a young boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes. But no matter how vivid the dreams were he just couldn't quite place his finger on it.

The blonde knew he'd seen the boy and the castle at some point in his life. But when and where he couldn't comprehend. It was like an annoying itch he couldn't scratch or a barrier he couldn't break through.

Not even now as his fingers slid across the granite that was etched into the thick parchment paper of his notebook as he shaded in a bushel of roses; the castle that plagued his dreams looming off in the background.

“That's quite a lovely drawing.” Steve lifted his eyes from his sketch and towards the curious pretty girl that hung over his shoulder. “Much better than the ones I’ve seen in published books. Are you an illustrator?”

Steve’s baby blue eyes glittered in recognition. He may have been new to Ville de Brooklyn, but he knew the hushed whispers that sprouted throughout town whenever the Belle of Ville de Brooklyn stepped foot into the courtyard: Mademoiselle (Y/n) Stark.

Steve couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered within his stomach at your beauty. “Thank you, but no. I'm not.” He answered.

You hummed, “Then you have an amazing talent, Monsieur...” You trailed off.

“Rogers.” The blond stammered out. “Steven Rogers.”

“Monsieur Rogers.” You liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. “Well, Monsieur Rogers, I hope next time we meet we can talk longer.”   

“As will I, Madame.”

The people of Ville de Brooklyn couldn't hold their tongues when it came to your beauty, your oddness of your love for books, and your befuddling father.

Tony Stark - from what Steve had concluded - was an interesting character, much like yourself. The saying: “the apple doesn't fall far from the tree” perfectly describes you and your father. Monsieur Stark was an inventor. (Though many believed the man was crazy.) He rarely left your small home on the outskirts of the village, always being cooped up in the basement, tinkering away at whatever machinery his brilliant mind had brewed up now.

And when he did leave the house, he was difficult - to put it lightly. Never able to hold a proper conversation with someone without adding long words no one had ever heard of and awful jokes.

Steve’s thoughts trailed off when he noticed the shadow towering over his seated form. But instead of your pretty face, he was met with glaring dark brown eyes. The butterflies that once flitted inside his stomach dropped as he recognized the sun-tanned skin of the village brute: Monsieur Brock Rumlow.

“Saw that you were talking to (Y/n) a moment ago. Wanted to inform you that she's off limits.” Brock sniffed.

“Excuse me?” Steve raised a brow.

“(Y/n)? Shiny hair, pretty eyes, sexy body - Yea. She's mine.” Steve’s eyes narrowed at the declaration. “From one man to another, keep your distance from my girl.”

“Your girl?” The lady of the hour scoffed. You stomped towards Brock, your eyes hard and jaw set.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you're angry?” Rumlow cooed, completely ignoring your threats. He even gained the nerve to brush his fingers through the ends of your hair.

Steve has had quite enough of this man. The blonde jumped to his feet and snatched Brock’s hand away from your soft curls. “The mademoiselle stated her point. She's not an object you could possess.”

Brock dragged his eyes from your face, towards Steve’s gripping hand, and then up to meet his burning blue eyes. The brunet wretched his wrist from Steve’s hand. But when he opened his mouth to retort at the larger man, you piped up.

“I've repeated myself many times, Rumlow - I'm not yours and I never will be. So get that through your thick skull before I have to smash it in.” You brandished your newly purchased book - Moby Dick, Steve recognized - like a weapon and waved it threateningly in Brock’s face.

Rumlow’s let out a dry chuckle and turned his glare towards you, “Don't start to get mouthy with me sweetheart. I won’t tolerate a woman - let alone my future wife to speak to me that way.” Both you and Steve clenched your jaws. “Those books will start to give you some sort of liberated thoughts. Thoughts a pretty little housewife shouldn't be having.”

“Oh? And how should a housewife think?” You seethed.

“Obvious!” Rumlow grinned wolfishly. “Producing the Rumlow lineage-!” The brunet was cut off by the thick book of Herman Melville slamming itself into his jaw. Rumlow spun to the ground in surprise. The air in his lungs surely knocked out and a dull pain beginning to settle in.

You were grateful for the heavy lifting you assisted your father within his basement workshop. “I'd choose your words wisely next time, Brock. Should I recommend a dictionary? That is: if you can even read.” You turned your nose from the sexist pig and began your journey home.

All of those who had witnessed the encounter between the Belle of the Ville, the quiet blonde artist, and the handsome Brock Rumlow could only stare with open jaws and wide eyes.

Steve scrambled to gather his sketchbook and pencils and began to chase after your steaming figure.

“Mademoiselle!” He called. But you didn't stop nor slow for the man.

“What?” You growled over your shoulder. You’ve had quite enough of the male species at the moment.

“I uh…that was quite a hit. Never would've expected-” “A dainty Belle like me to manage a Hail Mary like that? Or able to contain such barbaric brute ness? Or how about the nerve to beat the town’s ‘Most Wanted Bachelor’ with a book?”

You stopped abruptly and whipped around towards the blond. He nearly ran into you.

Steve gulped as he was now on the receiving end of your wrath. Oh, how drastic this version of you was rather than the loud whispers he guiltily gobbled up.

Your words echoed in his mind. ‘Choose your next words wisely.’

Steve felt the tips of his ears grow warm. “Y-Yes?” He cleared his throat and regained himself. “That was indeed a nice swing, for a beautiful dame. I-I mean…! I would've done more to defend - to help...assist you, but it seemed you were able to handle yourself…Just fine.”

You only raised a brow at the blond. “You have no idea how to speak to women do you?”

Merde did Steve feel like an idiot. He wished the Earth underneath him would open up and swallow him whole. “N-no. Not really. This is perhaps the longest time I’ve spoken to a woman.”

You chuckled.

Steve's baby blues widened. You chuckled! Chuckled! And merde was it adorable! And was that a snort as well??

You froze when a snort came from your nose and quickly covered your mouth. Great. You felt your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

“Cute.” Steve breathed. Much louder than he wanted to be. Now it was Steve’s turn to feel warm.

Across the village, through the surrounding dense forest, and across a ruined marble bridge stood a gloomy castle. Much like that sketched into Steve’s notebooks.

The surrounding gardens were untamed and overgrown. Years and years of neglect ensued the bushes of roses to grow like weeds, their thorny vines hanging like tentacles.

Within the cracked, dusty castle a glass bell jar stood untouched. A glowing scarlet rose bloomed within its enclosure.  Across from the mysterious rose was a crowd of shadowed furniture and antiques. The silver hand mirror they stared into illuminated their gold encrusted features.

“They're both blushing like daisies. This is sickening.” A female teapot grumbled. The ceramic vessel was ivory in color with a pattern of scarlet intersecting triangles with an ebony outline that wrapped around her lid, spout, and base. Red swirls were hand painted delicately onto the pottery.

“How he has grown! I remember when he was still in diapers, now he is a strapping young man!” A candelabra exclaimed. His once tied back sun yellow blond hair was now solidified in gold, with the ends ignited in a small flame. Much like his favorite cloak, the fabric having been coated over in gold. Small whisks of flames erupted from the end whenever he moved.

“Why doesn't the Master ever use this? Doesn't he miss him?” A teacup questioned. He had the same design as the teapot but instead of the red swirls, he had a blue criss-cross pattern all around the porcelain.

“Don't be such a tea brain, tea brain. You know damn well why he doesn't use this.” An ottoman retorted, rather rudely, to the teacup. His oak legs were a chocolate brown color, the plush red leather cushion was stitched with a silver threading.

“Sam.” The teapot scolded. The teacup stared smugly at the footrest.

“Shh! Do you want him to hear us?” A clock muttered. Painted emerald green forests decorated most of the wood. He had a large gold face with purple accents. The hands on his face twitched nervously as they both pointed at the twelve.

All turned towards the direction of the slumbering Prince. Engulfed in a large pale yellow canopy bed, the sheer curtains were drawn closed, the furniture could intriguingly make out their master’s large form. The sheets rose and fell over his large frame as he slumbered.

“We should let our Master sleep. In fact, we should all try to rest peacefully. After all, sleep is very important for the body.” The candelabra stated.

“Well in case you forgot genius, we don't have any bodies!” The ottoman exclaimed. He was shushed promptly and loudly. The candelabra scanned the group of animated furniture before looking down at his own metal form. “Still. It’s very late, right my clock friend?”

The clock nodded, “Let's just go. Please?”

The furniture glanced down at the glowing mirror one last time before they departed. The smiling images of the Belle de Brooklyn and the handsome man Steve Rogers had sprouted to become reflected back at them.

The silver-handled mirror grew to a dim as its viewers hobbled and waddled away.

The Prince exhaled loudly when he heard the door to his bedroom shut closed. Leaving him once again to his quiet peace. He’d have to give his staff a stern talk for 1.interrupting his sleep - even though that was always a difficult feat for him, 2.entering his chambers without permission, and 3.how much of chatterboxes they were. He could’ve sworn the people across the entire castle could hear them. Then again, no matter how many times he discussed the loudness, it went one ear and out the other. They always were an unquiet group.

But even though he was now left alone to his silent bedroom, he couldn’t find the will to fall asleep. The mirror was calling to him - taunting him.

He growled quietly as he rolled out of his warm bed and approached the silver mirror. His large feet pounded against the cold tile, the talons clicking like high heels with each step. The Prince stretched his large paw out and carefully gripped the mirror. Eleven years and he still had a hard time trying to control his vast body.

“Show-” he swallowed, “Show me, Steve.” Ice blue eyes watched the mirror grew to a blinding flash, as images of Steve and the Belle huddled under his large coat from the fat drops of rain that poured down on the village. The both of them seemed content at their closeness; their apparent tensions having been long gone as they heavily conversed about art and books.

The Prince could help but feel a pang in his chest as he watched the pair. His large ears picked up on the soft patter of rain against the stained glass windows before it grew into a heavy pour.

Was this the same storm that ensued his Steve and the Belle to sit so close? Or was this the consent of his brewing heart manifesting outside? Or perhaps these were the tears of his mother, weeping for the misfortune her only child had bestowed upon himself

The prince sighed, “I'm sorry, Stevie.”

tagged list: slender--spirit | mayzakie | you-can-bucky-my-barnes |  delicatelyherdreams | sexyvixen7 | mrsierrarogers | littlemsrantsalot | trashedsunsets

[louezem]

Happy Birthday, Notanislander

I wrote this little thing for my friend, @notanislander, who celebrates her birthday today.  We first bonded over the agony that was reading Ronja’s “The Chance You Didn’t Take”, but I like to think our friendship has expanded way beyond tumblr and fanfiction.  NOI has always been there for me in some tough moments throughout the last year.  She has never stopped encouraging me to write, write, write, so this is for her.  We talked about a story based on TLC’s “Say Yes To The Dress” and I tried to make it happen.  This has not been beta’d, and I’m sorry its not complete, I didn’t have time but there will be possibly three more parts.  Endgame is everlark, always. 

Happy Birthday my friend. Sorry for posting this while you are at work. Time Zone Issues!  

(Thanks to my daughter @turtlingturtle for pre-reading, and if anyone would like to make a banner for this, I’d be delighted..)

~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~

Will You Say Yes?

Part 1 – The Fitting

Katniss sighed with relief as she pushed through the gleaming glass and mahogany doors of Templesmith Bridal, the most exclusive bridal salon in all of New Panem.   She hurried through the plush carpeted hallways to the staff lounge at the back of the store hoping no one had noticed her sneaking in through the public entrance.  She’d run all the way from the subway station but the icy rain had still managed to soak her to the bone.

Shivering, she shook out her wet hair wishing there was time to make some tea to warm up.  They opened to the public in 20 minutes so she only had time to change into the smart black outfit she wore at work and re-braid her hair before joining the daily staff briefing.

“Good morning Katniss!” Effie, the Bridal Director and her boss greeted her loudly when she tried to slip unnoticed into the main salon where the briefing was already in full swing. “Thank you for joining us.” Katniss felt her face begin to burn as all eyes turned to her.  Cinna, the salon’s Fashion Director, winked and gave her a soothing smile.

“I’m sorry I’m late Effie, my train was delayed…”  

Effie waved her excuses away.  “You’re here now so let’s not delay further.  Everyone, your clients for today are uploaded to your schedules along with the usual details on each bride and their preferences. Remember, it’s your job to help your bride find the dress of their dreams for their big, big, big day!  So smiles on,” Effie shot Katniss another pointed look, “ignore the entourages, and above all keep to your schedule—“

“—and if you have any problems or need assistance you can always come to one of us,“ Cinna added with his usual air of calm.

“Yes indeed, thank you Cinna.” Effie stood on her six inch heels and clapped her hands, the signal that the meeting was over. “Alright everyone it’s time to feed the monster!  The doors are open in ten!” The staff scattered in every direction to get ready to greet their first clients of the day.  

“Katniss, can I see you in my office for a moment?”  Effie called out.

Katniss paused, her stomach dropping.  Being called to Effie’s office usually meant one of two things. Someone had complained about her attitude or she was in danger of not making her monthly sales target.  

“Effie if this is about my sales target this month I can explain,” Katniss began anxiously.  Though selling wedding attire was only ever meant to be a temporary career for her, she couldn’t afford to lose this job right now.

Effie lifted a finger instantly silencing Katniss.  “Take a seat, Katniss. That is not what I would like to discuss with you today.”

“It’s not?” Katniss was confused, watching with fascination as Effie began tapping rapidly at a tablet with two inch vermillion nails.

“I have a very special bride for you today,” Effie began.  “Her wedding is in six weeks and she called me personally to request an appointment at short notice so I moved a few things around and managed to squeeze her in.”  She leaned across her desk and handed the tablet to Katniss, the screen containing a brief bio of a bride-to-be, her measurements, and a few other details.  

“Six weeks?” Immediately Katniss knew this was a significant client. Appointments at Templesmith’s were booked up more than a year in advance.  For Effie to squeeze her in was a big deal. She scanned the open tab on her screen until her eye fell on the box marked budget and her eyes widened. Typed neatly in the box was the word, unlimited.

“I know it’s very short notice but I’m sure we can make it work. The bride is Glimmer Snow.  She comes from a very wealthy Capitol family, old money, but she knows how to spend it like it’s new, so don’t be afraid to bring out our most exclusive lines for her.”

Katniss did not miss the suggestion behind Effie’s words.  Their most exclusive lines were the most expensive. A sale with a big price-tag would really help her out with her monthly sales goal, and the commission would go a long way towards Prim’s tuition next semester.

“Effie, I don’t know what to say.  Thank you,” were all the words Katniss could muster.  Normally these type of clients were reserved for the more experienced sales consultants, not someone like her.

“Don’t thank me my dear,” Effie gave her a small smile. “Thank Cinna, this was his doing. Frankly, I had no one else with space in their schedule today and he said you deserved the opportunity.”

Katniss felt tears coming to her eyes.  Ever since she’d started at Templesmith’s Cinna had been so kind to her. He’d taken her under his wing and taught her so much.  His advice on the final touches - a lace veil here or a jewelled belt there - often helped her to close a sale and boost the commission added to Katniss’ paycheck every month.  

“Cinna says you have quite a talent for fashion, you know.” For a moment Effie’s hard exterior softened. “He also told me how hard you’ve been trying and that you are looking after your sister.  I believe effort deserves reward, so this is your chance.  Enjoy it.  You’ve earned it!”

“Ugh, this is so frustrating!” Glimmer whined, pulling at the gaping bodice of the lace dress she was wearing.   Katniss winced as one of Glimmer’s stiletto nails caught in the delicate fabric. “Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always dreamed of ordering my wedding gown from Templesmith’s, but nothing you’ve shown me so far is doing it for me! Don’t you have anything else?”  

Katniss looked at the seven dresses Glimmer had already tried on and discarded hanging against the wall.  All fitted styles, lace, no lace, beaded, simple, feathered, tulle, nothing she showed her seemed to inspire Glimmer.  Katniss had spent three long hours already with the bride and her entourage and she was exhausted.  It didn’t help that Glimmer didn’t have any definite idea about what she wanted in her wedding dress, other than “it must be white and sparkle like snow!”

“Making such an important choice can sometimes be a little overwhelming,” Katniss made herself sound positive.  “Would you consider trying a different silhouette? Maybe I could show you a ballgown?”

“No! I really want a dress that shows off my curves with lots of bling, but lots of lace too.  Maybe I’ll try somewhere else,” Glimmer pouted.

Katniss groaned inwardly and resigned herself to the likelihood of the sale slipping away when the image of another dress flashed into her mind.  Well, Effie did say to pull out all the stops for this bride, she thought.

“There is one more dress,” Katniss hesitated.  “I’ll need permission to pull it for you as it is very special, a runway piece.  We don’t usually sell those.”  

“That sounds exciting! Let me see it!” Glimmer tossed her long blonde mane over her shoulder and inspected her lips in the mirror, pouting at herself.  

Katniss nodded and left the room in search of Cinna.  She found him in his office and explained what she needed. One quick call later to the designer for permission and they spent a few minutes searching for the vast stockroom for the exclusive runway dress.

“Good luck Katniss,” Cinna handed it over to her, “go close that sale.”

“Thank you Cinna.  I’m aware I got this chance because of you,” Katniss squeezed his hand.  “It means a lot.”

Cinna smiled. “You got this chance because you earned it. I’ll be lurking around the main salon if you need me.”

 “I hope you like this one,” Katniss pushed her way into Glimmer’s fitting room. “I think it has everything you’re looking for.  It’s mermaid style, with a corset front and back.  It’s beaded all over with swarovski crystals—“

“Oh, my god it’s beautiful!”  Glimmer jumped up from her chair and clapped her hands in excitement. “Let me try it on.”

Minutes later Katniss laced up the rear of the dress and heard herself gasp out loud at the image in the mirror.  There was no doubt the unlined bodice and nude boning of the corset showed off Glimmer’s curves to perfection… and a lot more.

“It’s perfect! I can’t wait for Pete to see me in this!” Glimmer giggled as she turned to see the back. “I love it!”

Katniss smiled in relief at finally finding something the bride liked.  “It fits like it was made for you.  I don’t think it will much alteration, maybe a little off the length,” she noted, a good thing considering Glimmer’s wedding was only weeks away.  “Shall we let your friends see it?” she asked.  

Glimmer nodded and fluffed her hair in the mirror one more time before strutting down the hallway to the main salon like she was on a catwalk.  Katniss walked behind her, holding up the train. She couldn’t help but admire Glimmer’s confidence. With her blonde hair, blue eyes and curvaceous figure she was beautiful and she knew it.

As she stepped onto to the raised podium all eyes in the room turned to her, which was exactly the reaction Glimmer was looking for.  A huge smile lit up her face.  “Well ladies, what do you think?”

“Wow.”  

“Oh my God.”  

“Damn girl.”

“It’s perfect on you Glim,” Clove, the dark haired matron of honor said, and the rest of the entourage immediately joined in making various sounds in agreement.  “I think this is the one.”

“I agree, you should get this one Glim, it’s fabulous on you,” Cashmere, a bridesmaid tuned in.  “You’re glowing.”

“Do you really think so?” Glimmer asked, tears appearing in her eyes and at the moment, Katniss knew the sale was hers.

“What’s the price tag on this?” the last bridesmaid, who’d introduced herself as Enobaria, asked.

“This dress is a once-off by Pnina, and it’s thirty-two thousand dollars,” Katniss spoke quietly and held her breath.  Until now, not even Glimmer had asked what the dress cost.  

“That’s fine, my Grandfather can afford it,” Glimmer waved the price tag away with a smirk, turning this way and that, inspecting herself from every angle.  “How does my ass look?”

“Gorgeous.  Way better then Pippa whats-her-name’s,” Cashmere giggled.  

“So,” Katniss stepped forward when the giggles had died down a little.  “Glimmer, do you think you can see yourself getting married in this dress?”

“Yes!  Yes, this is definitely my dress!”  Glimmer announced and a cheer followed by clapping and congratulations went through the entire room.

“Peeta will lose his shit when he sees you in this.”  Clove stood up and hugged her friend.  

“He’ll rip it of you with his teeth,” Enobaria winked and joined in the hug, soon followed by Cashmere until all four women were laughing and crying together.

Katniss felt her heart jump in her chest and all of a sudden she felt breathless.  No, she must have misheard.  Clove didn’t just say Peeta. Did she?

“I’m sorry, did you say Peeta?” she blurted.

“What?” Clove looked up, clearly annoyed by the interruption to the moment.

“You said Peeta. I was wondering if I misheard you,” Katniss withered a little under the little brunette’s fierce scowl.  It was definitely competition for her own.

“Yes, my fiancé’s name is Peeta, Peeta Mellark. Why do you ask?” Glimmer raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow in Katniss’ direction.

“No, no reason,” Katniss stammered a little. “It’s an unusual name.”  

“It’s silly, right?” Glimmer laughed.  “Pete comes from a long line of bakers and bread related names are kind of a tradition in his family. I’ve asked him to change it to Peter instead, but he can be stubborn sometimes,” she sighed.

“If you ever have a baby girl you should name her Pnina,” Enobaria smirked. “It fits with his family tradition.”

“Oh no, I have no plans to let him put any buns in my oven anytime soon, though he’d love it… are you alright, dear?”

“I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little dizzy,” Katniss mumbled swaying on her feet a little. “It’s a little warm in here.  If you’ll excuse me for a moment I’ll go and get a drink of water.”

“Of course.  Would you be a dear and bring us back some champagne too? I think we need to celebrate,” Glimmer turned her back and began twirling in the mirror again.  

“Sure, um, I’ll be right back.” Katniss fled the room. She pressed her hand against her stomach, hoping the roiling would stop. It wouldn’t do if she threw up on a thirty-two thousand dollar dress.

She fled down the carpeted hallway and into the stock room hoping that no one had seen her and buried herself in a dark corner, behind a rail of samples.

“Katniss?”  A familiar voice found her. “What’s the matter?”  

“Nothing, I’m okay.” Katniss reached up with shaking hands and starting pushing the dresses in front of her along the rail, pretending she was looking for something.

“Katniss.” Cinna reached up and stalled her hand.  “These dresses are for the outlet store. I doubt you will find a dress Miss Glimmer Snow, granddaughter of the infamous Coriolanus Snow, will want to wear amongst them.”

“She is buying the dress,” Katniss mumbled. “The runway dress.”

“Congratulations Katniss, I knew you could do it.”  Cinna pulled her into a gentle hug. “So why the tears? Tell me what has upset you.”

Katniss wiped her eyes with her sleeve, grateful she didn’t have time for makeup that morning.

“It’s Peeta,” she whispered.

“Peeta?” Cinna looked confused. “You mean your ex-fiancé Peeta? Has something happened to him?”

“He’s getting married.”

 End Part 1.

~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~

And there it is. I’m sorry Peeta does not appear in person in this part, he will appear in Part 2.   :)

[hikarumkns]

This was exactly what I needed tonight as I delved further into the book!

Aaravos isn't exactly a character I really gravitate towards, I mean not like other characters in the series but I love connecting the pieces. First off, it's interesting that unicorns are part of the star arcanum. When first described, I just thought they were pure creatures from Xadia that held a ton of magic. Also hearing that they're cunning and clever is interesting to add to what we know of them. They were the ones that gave humans the gift of the primal stones and taught them the draconic words to draw the power from them before the first elves took it from them and banished them.

Unicorns also took sympathy on the "lesser beings" by granting then the gift of magic as they are selfless, kind creatures. Though, it wasn't specified if it was the star arcanum or another arcanum for that matter. Also next to dragons, unicorns were revered as well. So this new snippet about unicorns is truly unique. But as mentioned earlier, Aaravos was the one telling the story making it hard to believe.

It's also worth noting that humans can learn magic much like Callum learned it. But because of the time it took to understand it, the "shortcut" was made. Impatient as always.

As for what we learned from this; Claudia taking the horn from a unicorn is shown in the art book with what seems like a silhouette of Viren in the background. It would be interesting if somehow, by some strange creepy way, Viren had found a spell to track a unicorn or lure one towards Claudia. I would assume this would be Claudia's first real encounter with dealing with such a crime and perhaps even her first taste into the realm of dark magic. Claudia does seem fascinated by the creatures themselves before delving into what she could use them for much like how she held the moon moth at the moon Nexus without ill intent. If unicorns are of evasive nature, maybe an innocent human soul untainted by the trails of dark magic would have allured the unicorn towards Claudia enough for Viren to trap it the same way we see him trap Avizandum.

There are many theories concerning Aaravos might've been the one who created dark magic but Ziard's staff (which ironically is the same one Viren has) was gifted by "one of the great ones." And this is a stretch, like a big stretch, but what if there was more than one from the "great ones" that did in fact create dark magic leading to the power to fall into human hands? I'm really basing this off of the art where we see more startouch elf designs and some seem a bit more cryptic than we'd like to imagine these cosmical brings to be. I can't imagine, Aaravos is the last startouch elf and we might see more in coming seasons. Judging by the text that was thankfully translated, Ziard might've been the only human to see one if we're not counting Viren. I don't think we should. He's only seen Aaravos through a mirror and in his ghostly form.

I'm just dipping my toe into this lore and giving it a shot so I could be incredibly wrong or simply in the wrong direction but so far with my fried two braincells this is where I've gotten.

I would like to know where Viren acquired his staff and if he is at all connected to Ziard. Another bizarre thought that I once used to play around with was that perhaps Ziard is part of Viren. I mean, they look almost the same... Almost, and they have the same staff. But he has children and that would... Weird lol. Also how would have he met Lissa if that is the case? Just remembered he was burnt to smithereens but who's to say he didn't expect the outcome to lead to where it did if he had a startouch elf beside him?

Speaking of children, I want to know how Soren almost died as a child!

Secrets about Aaravos?

In the new artbook, there’s a page explaining how the show-runners used real world languages to create shareable secrets for fans. We get these three pages as examples:

We’ve seen the pages on the left and right sides before, the one in the middle is new. Here’s a closer look at the text:

Unfortunately I don’t know Italian, but here’s a rough translation via Google translate:

Of the six primitive sources, the stars are the most mysterious. No other creature but the star-touch elves has understood the mystery of the stars, and, unlike other primitive sources, human wizards have struggled even to express the concept in words. Studying the stars is made more difficult by the scarcity of magical creatures related to the stars - the only known star creatures are the mysterious star-touch elves and the rare, fascinating unicorns. Dark wizards have tried to hunt unicorns to better understand their power, but their star magic and devious cunning make them nearly impossible to hunt. As for the Star Touch elves, little trace of their existence remains. In Xadian literature, they seem evasive, inscrutable, distant from the rest of elven society. No Star Touch elf has been seen by humans–except for one. 

Known by many names in ancient stories - The Fallen Star, the Last of the Great, the Bearer of Gifts, but his real name was Aaravos.

Texts mentioning his name have been erased ever since the humans were pushed out of Xadia. Tales disagree on his role in the events that transpired, some paint him as a beneficent figure, an ally of humanity willing to share his great magical power with those who needed it the most, others portray him as…

So according this:

1) Star-touched elves and unicorns are are the only known star-touched creatures.

2) Dark mages did indeed hunt unicorns but they were very difficult to catch. Though this makes me wonder how Claudia managed to succeed in capturing one. Is she just that gifted? Was the unicorn very young/old/weak/sick? Or did the unicorn want to be caught for some reason?

Regardless, it sounds unlikely humans hunted them to extinction, though maybe dark mages hunting them drove unicorns into hiding. 

3) Unicorns are described as possessing  a “devious cunning”. This sounds like a far cry compassionate, pure beings they’ve been portrayed as thus far. 

4) Aaraovs has many titles, including Last of the Great. I’m assuming that’s supposed to be Last of the Great Ones. If that’s true, what happened to the other Great Ones? Were they also Startouched Elves? Seems likely, but what happened to them? Why is Aaravos the last one? Did other Startouched ascend into the cosmos or something? Did Aaravos choose to stay behind on Xadia? Or was he left behind? Does it have something to do with his “fallen” status? 

5) Aaravos’s name was largely erased from history after humans were expelled from Xadia. 

6) His exact role in history is unknown and stories about him are contradictory. However, the text cuts off before we can learn more.

[curselikeasailorfucklikealady]

@heithsecretvalentines  Hi @forensicsoda I was your Heith secret Valentine!! Here’s a lil drabble with Knight Keith, Knight/chef Hunk (who says he can’t be both?) and flowers!!

It isn’t often that Keith lets his mind wander. It’s a habit he can’t afford, when his life, and the life of his employer, depends on remaining vigilant, constantly detecting possible threats. It’s probably a bad idea for Princess Allura to continue making such powerful enemies, but he knows better than to interfere. What he wants doesn’t matter, or it wouldn’t, if he knew what that was. All that matters to him is that he’s got all he needs.

Really, it’s more than he needs. Not only does he get an allowance of silvers twice a month, he gets to stay in Princess Allura’s summer mansion with her, and even he has to admit that the view is nice.

From the balcony of the Princess’s room (not that he’s allowed in it, but well, when she’s out on a covert trip with Lord Coran, who’s going to stop him?) one can see all the way to the mountains, their silhouettes painting a rich indigo pulse line across the horizon. Below, a clutch of trees garnishes the base of the mountains like vegetables beside a nice roast on a platter, and then the castle’s expansive garden begins, and doesn’t end until the doorstep.

Keith was never one for flowers. Growing up poorer than dirt in one of the nearby villages, without anything resembling family, he was only interested in plants he could eat or wear. Flowers wouldn’t keep him alive through the winter.

Things were different now, obviously.

Now, like the rest of the Princess’s beloved Paladins, Keith eats like a king. He wears shiny white armor, with pink accents to match the royals he is prestigiously charged with protecting, and a lovely red cloak in winter. He sleeps in a bed with down-stuffed pillows and two blankets, so soft it’s almost uncomfortable.

These things are nice. The view is nice. The luxuries are nice, yes. If he had to name his favorite part of being a Paladin, though, none of these things would even be in the running. Hunk is at the top of the list by far.

~

Hunk was one of the Paladins with two jobs, three if you counted how often Pidge consulted with him on her latest weapon designs, but he didn’t mind the workload. Running the castle’s kitchen hardly counted as a job when he loved it so much. The kitchen had a huge door that led to the garden, and was always left open during the day to let out the heat from the always-burning ovens, which meant he had a delightful view while he created edible works of art for the castle’s residents. Having an open door also meant it was the perfect place to sneak in and out of the castle-- that is, assuming one could bribe Hunk to claim he hadn’t seen them. If favors were silvers, Hunk was a loan shark.

Then again, ‘shark’ was overstating things, considering how easy it was to repay his debts. The first time Keith cut through his kitchen, on his way to a solo training session so as to avoid the Princess’s regimen, all Hunk asked for was a nice bouquet of flowers for the empty vase on the kitchen table.

Naturally, being Keith, he had grumbled and kicked a few rocks around the outer edges of the garden, thinking that his request was some kind of mean joke. Sure, anyone could pick flowers, but he’d never bothered. So, he’d never be able to put together a “nice bouquet”. He was hired for his talent for destroying things. Hunk had a nasty sense of humor if his idea of a joke was to give his teammate a task knowing that he would fail. Still, a promise was a promise, so when it was time to head back, he gathered a handful of roses. They were thorny, the kind of flowers that could defend themselves, and he liked that about them.

When he got back, Hunk gushed about how lovely they were, how creative Keith was for mixing yellow, white, and red flowers instead of sticking to one color, thanked him again, and sent him off with a warm, freshly-baked muffin and an even warmer smile.

Keith felt a warmth buzzing under his skin like a fever as he left the kitchen, but he attributed it to the heat from the oven and ran off, avoiding any halls with mirrors in them. He didn’t want to know whether his face was as red as it felt.

The next time Keith went through, Hunk simply asked for a hand, and he ended up holding up a bowl of something viscous, pouring it into another bowl while Hunk mixed and chattered about dough consistency. When he came back, sweaty and a little breathless from training, he was rewarded with more sweets, and a pat on the back for working so hard.

Before they knew it, it became a pattern. Keith started using the kitchen door more often than any other, just because it meant he’d get to see Hunk. He didn’t bring flowers back again, and he didn’t get a sweet every time, but it was always worth it to come through, because he always got that smile, warm enough to thaw his icy pout into an imitation of one.

One day, on one of his usual jogs around the castle, weaving between beds of poppies to practice agility, he jolted to a stop, staring at a rosebush. He wasn’t supposed to let his mind wander. He was supposed to be a sword, sharp, focused, deadly-- so why was he here, standing in the garden staring at a plant and thinking about his fellow Paladin? What did Hunk have in common with a yellow rose?

Well… they were soft, he mused as he absentmindedly reached out and touched one of the petals. They were pretty. The petals framed the center imperfectly, the way Hunk’s hair fell around his face even when he wore a headband to keep it away, and yet, both were imperfectly gorgeous. Keith wanted it. The rose, that is... or maybe both.

With an urgency even he couldn’t explain, he whipped out his boot knife, cut the stem of the most perfect yellow rose, and sprinted back to the kitchen.

Hunk was humming and frying up some lunch when he heard pounding footsteps. Alarmed, he moved the pan off the heat and snatched up the heavy crossbow he always kept nearby, loading and raising it in one fluid motion. No one had any need to run into the kitchen, so logically, if they were running, it was an ambush. If they thought the kitchen was a weak point in the castle, though, they had another thing coming. Much to his surprise, once he had his weapon raised to shoulder level, the point of the arrow notched in it was inches away from Keith’s nose.

Before he could say anything, Keith raised his hands as if in surrender, and then straightened his right arm, holding a single yellow rose up to Hunk. “This reminded me of you.” He blurted out awkwardly, completely glossing over the weapon pointed at his face. “I want you to have it.”

Relaxing, Hunk lowered his crossbow with one hand and took the flower with the other. A complicated silence fell, as it took him a second to line up all the dots, but after it clicked, a playful smile bloomed on the chef’s face. “Bringin’ me flowers? Are you a suitor?”

The s-word was practically an insult around this castle, because every few months, some fool would come and attempt to win Allura’s heart with gifts and obsequious flattery, and leave with their pride bitten in half. Keith hated them, but he still laughed despite himself, teasing back, “Depends. Is the answer yes?”

Keith spent half his time in the kitchen turning various shades of pink and red, matching the carnations and poppies in Hunk’s vase, but now- now, it was Hunk’s turn to flush red, and suddenly, Keith had a new favorite shade. “Are you serious?” He questioned, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“When am I not?” For someone who had no idea what he was doing, he sure sounded like he knew.

Grinning slowly, Hunk shook his head. “Then nope.” He paused, then stepped closer, and Keith bristled at having someone else in his personal space, prompting Hunk to laugh. “I mean, no, I won’t marry you and let you borrow my resources.” He joked, referring to what Allura’s suitors were always after. “But…” Keith, who’d been scowling at the ground, looked up hopefully, and it offered the perfect angle to lean down and kiss him, but Hunk couldn’t be sure what he wanted. Stealing a kiss when he was just joking would make things awkward between them forever, which would not be ideal the next time they were sent into the field together. “Yes, I definitely like you, you know, like that, if that was the question. Was it?”

Keith answered his question by closing the distance between them and pulling Hunk down into a kiss, a resounding yes to both the question Hunk asked, and the one he hadn’t. The crossbow still in Hunk’s hand clattered to the ground, and his arms wrapped around the smaller paladin to pick him up, smiling against his lips.

~

Even now, standing on the forbidden balcony and looking out at the view for the thousandth time, the memory of his first kiss with Hunk makes Keith smile to himself, and his eyes drop from the majestic mountains to the clutch of yellow roses in the royal garden, and then down to his own hands, turning something shiny between his fingers.

It’s not often Keith lets his mind wander; but when it does, it goes to Hunk, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. War or no war, he knows what he wants now. All he needs to do is ask.

[theinquisitivej]

‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’ - My Spoiler Filled Thoughts on its Characters

When I watched Star Wars: The Last Jedi a week ago, I came out unsure. I thought one or two of the plot threads were little more than busywork to provide something to do for the characters who were at a loose end. There were one or two things that didn’t quite add up. But I thought the themes were fascinating, the performances top notch, and several moments immediately established themselves as striking and iconic scenes that we would remember for a long time. It was a mixed bag, and I knew that I needed to let this one sit, until the conflict within me felt resolved, in some way.

         That was only a week ago, but it feels much longer. I know that Star Wars is simply a collection of films, like any other; they’re just as capable of being flawed, being very good even if it doesn’t reach the heights of being a masterpiece, or, dare I say it, even a little bit of both. But even with that consideration, the film occupied my thoughts. I was always going to think about a new Star Wars film for a long time (case in point, I still have regular conversations about the prequels), but this felt different. Much like The Last Jedi, I was confronted with both familiar ideas and unknown territory. I thought about how this new Star Wars story played with many of the tropes we all know and love, but also challenged and recontextualised them. As I considered the film over the last seven days, I thought more about its themes, and less about the gaps in logic that felt like they technically didn’t make sense. To put it another way, I grew to love the merits of The Last Jedi more and more, while I cared less and less about its weaknesses.

         If you are looking for a well-articulated negative take on this film, I’m afraid I can’t give it to you. I have a lot of love for this movie, even though there are a handful of things that bug me about the storytelling logic here or there. A film can have imperfections but still be taken to heart if the individual feels the areas it succeeds in are done with enough sincerity and conviction to back it up, and I feel The Last Jedi has more than enough of it to make it stand out for me. It feels like a worthy instalment in a series that, at its best, can be really darn special. It’s difficult for me to fully understand responding to this film with absolute hatred and disgust, because I honestly do love it that much. But I can sympathise with those feeling uncertain after watching this film, and can see how many people will come out of that feeling let down, or concluding that, after much consideration, the film was a bit weak.

         But the responses are never that diplomatic or level-headed, are they? I’ve seen far too many responses that appear to be based on projection or demanding expectations that want instant gratification. If they don’t get that gratification, they get angry, and direct that anger in ways that feel hateful and ugly, rather than constructive or considerate. I don’t mean to say that you, dear reader, are obligated to love, like, dislike, or hate this movie. I especially don’t want to imply that anyone possessing issues with this film resembles the onslaught of shitty people that have come out to spew their bile filled opinions that just so happen to be about a movie. My point is simply that there is plenty of dislike you can turn to if you want that, but I have little of it to offer.

Let’s go through this character by character, shall we? Oh, and spoilers from here on out.

Rey

         In a cast of characters that I argue are all richly developed between these first two movies, with each one being brought to life by some wonderful talent, Rey is a strong centre for this new trilogy. Daisy Ridley has the power to sell her character as driven and full of believable determination, but also grounds Rey with a likeable sense of fun and comedic delivery.  Her visual design continues to impress, as her costumes seem to somehow blend with her stance to make the way she looks as she composes herself very characteristically distinct, and her three hair buns only make her all the more memorable and easy to pick out if you saw her in a range of character silhouettes.

         Even though it was clear that Rey was starting some kind of hero’s journey in Force Awakens, it was difficult to know exactly where she was heading before. Now, the bitter disappointment she’s faced by acknowledging that her parents were nobody has not only made her journey seem clear, but has put her character into a new light. Rey’s strong connection to the force has been criticised as Mary Sue-ish, but I think this is in line with her characterisation. She was left on a barren planet with no one to look to for comfort, and surrounded herself with various totems and treasures that reminded her of the stories she loved so much. To me, this demonstrates a deeper desire to be a part of something greater. She wants to be like Luke, Leia, and Han, and be in a grand narrative where your place in the universe seems so clear. After emotionally reaching out all her life to an unseen world she could never physically touch but always believed in and felt, is it any wonder she’s developed a strong ability to connect with the Force?

         But instead of concluding that it was by her own merits that she developed this ability, she considers the possibility of some hidden inheritance, that her unknown parents were important people that passed their gifts on to her. She’s so desperate for a connection, whether it’s to an idealised dream of her mystery parents, the stories she puts so much stock in, or simply anything, that, when she’s confronted with the reality that her past is a full stop leading to nothing, it hurts her. I think Alex Shaw of School of Movies hit the nail on the head in his video when he said that one of the film’s central themes is this simple premise: “get used to disappointment”. Not many mainstream stories explore this idea, because it’s a hard thing to accept. We face it so often in life, and yet when stories end with some feelings of disappointment still remaining, that hits us hard, and we don’t always know how to handle that. This is a powerful and challenging step in Rey’s story. But although she feels disheartened, the mirror reveals that, while she has no parents to look to for comfort, all the power she has comes from her own character, her determination and drive. This is an empowering concept, and I believe that realisation will come later for Rey as she continues along her journey.

 Ben / Kylo Ren

         Kylo Ren is continuing to surprise me in the best possible way as a complex villain who you can fear, laugh at, care for, and pity all at once. If Rey’s disappointment stems from finally accepting that her parents abandoned her for no grand purpose, then Ben’s disappointment comes from the masters who have failed him in different ways. Snoke recognises his raw potential, but heaps the expectations of the past on Ben’s shoulders, chastising him for not living up to them and wearing a mask, even as he says he expects him to act like Darth Vader. Luke was responsible for protecting Ben when he was young, scared, and confused. Instead of helping him through his anger, Luke let his terror and rejection of Ben’s darker impulses show, and Ben will never feel more betrayed then he did in that moment. As much as he resents Snoke, I suspect he hates Luke more for being the one who pushed him into that situation.

         As sad as we feel for Ben not taking his chance to begin making amends and start to heal himself, and as much as he represents the real damage that angry young men can do when they feel hurt, I love that you still have the chance to laugh at Kylo Ren’s behaviour. At each viewing, the audience I was with got a huge laugh out of the look he gave General Hux when he pointlessly repeats Ben’s orders that just says “…dude, what are you doing”, as well as the unblinking compliance of the pilot landing the ship when he understands that the Supreme Leader is having one of his usual tantrums when he slams Hux against the wall. I can’t get enough of his awkwardly intense refusal to put a shirt on when he’s Force Skyping Rey. These are all moments that make you enjoy Ben’s character, even though you understand the tragedy of his journey.

 Finn

         John Boyega’s energy continues to make Finn and his interaction with the various environments he makes his way through engagingly fun. But after my first viewing, I did wonder what the significance of his storyline was. I couldn’t discern what development he had gone through, and his character didn’t advance the general storyline. He didn’t meet up with Rey, he didn’t reach the master codebreaker, he failed in his mission to disable the tracker onboard the Star Destroyer, and didn’t prevent the battering ram cannon from breaking down the base gates. His best efforts failed to meaningfully affect the progression of events. But, as I keep saying, this film is about failure and disappointment. Finn’s journey being a series of unsuccessful attempts is in keeping with the film’s themes of confronting failure. As Yoda tells Luke, failure is important, most of all, and his words are as applicable to Finn’s story as they are to Luke’s.

         But apart from the central theme of failure, what specific development does Finn get that’s unique to him? It’s not blatant, and Finn’s development is oddly subdued for someone so prominent in the film, but I would still say it’s there. Finn has finally decided what he wants to fight for. He starts by trying to escape, meet up with Rey, and run away and abandon this fight, which is exactly what he was trying to do all throughout Force Awakens. At most, Finn’s fight is to do what he can to keep Rey out of harm’s way, which is a slight upgrade from simply looking out for his own survival. But it’s a small, personal fight, and Rose looks down on him for this. When he sees a casino filled with self-made people who have no responsibility to either side of the conflict, Finn sees an ideal place he wants to escape to. It’s only when Rose encourages him to scrutinise his dream that he sees the ugliness hidden beneath it. He gets a taste for doing the right thing by freeing the Fathiers with Rose. Still, his newfound moral compass is brought into question when DJ shows him that the reprehensible casino patrons who sold weapons to the First Order also did so for the Resistance. He’s brought back to an uncertain allegiance when he considers DJ’s stance that the fight between the Resistance and the First Order is a cyclical system that you can opt to stay out of. However, any doubt in his mind is cleared away when he sees DJ betray them in a manner that’s entirely in keeping with the philosophy he shared with Finn earlier. Finn deplores this, deciding that DJ and his outlook are both wrong. His newfound fire is tested and leads to a triumphant declaration that he is indeed “rebel scum”, even being committed enough to the fight to die for it when he charges down the battering ram cannon. There’s a lot of “so what was the point of that?” moments along the path of Finn’s story, and the payoff for his arc isn’t all that grand or explicit to make it immediately obvious whether it was worth it on a first viewing. But I appreciated his development a lot on my second viewing, and don’t mind the sequences on Canto Bight quite as much as a result.

 Poe

         Turning to Poe, his arc is a little clearer. Leia flat out says she needs him to learn to be a leader and stop dashing into costly battles. Seeing Poe do his thing in spectacular fashion at the start is thrilling, but I love that he is forced to develop once his X-Wing blows up, and he is decisively cut off from just falling on old habits. The dynamic between Poe and Vice Admiral Holdo is also a smart way to confront and challenge Poe’s character, and Laura Dern makes her mark on the Star Wars universe with a character that shows us what impact Leia has had. She’s positively affected not just worlds or governments, but people, and that’s a special thing to see. However, try as I might, I do still find it difficult to understand why they didn’t tell Poe the plan earlier. I appreciate that his actions had placed him outside their immediate circle of trust, but there didn’t seem to be any need for secrecy in their plan. As soon as Poe hears the plan to take the smaller transports down to the salt planet, he completely agrees with it. It’s sensible, has the capacity to work, and its success wasn’t dependent on him or anyone else in the Resistance not knowing the full details. So even though I understand the thematic reasoning for them going the way they did, it doesn’t quite make sense for me, so that’s frustrating.

         Still, Poe’s characterisation is solid, and I like the processes he goes through that shows he’s making progress with the example of Holdo and her sacrifice to safeguard the survival of the Resistance. When the opportunity to come to Luke’s aid comes, he thinks it through, and understands the importance of taking this opportunity to escape and survive. At that moment, Leia jokingly says “what are you looking at me for? Follow him!”, and Carrie’s delivery absolutely gets a laugh, but her look of pride afterwards suggests that Leia meant every word. They shouldn’t need her to thrive and carry on, and finding someone to prove that in Poe makes her proud.

Rose

         If you feel Rose is tied too closely to a segment of the film that is meandering and superfluous for her to resonate as strongly as the other characters in this movie, fair enough. If you tell me you hate her more than Jar Jar and that she’s a worthless character, get over yourself. She is vital, because she further expands this cast of characters so it is less and less about the Skywalkers and unfeeling nobles, and instead is increasingly about the connections normal people share, mourn, and protect. I love the strength Rose shows in her efforts to protect people, even though she isn’t a Jedi, a Bounty Hunter, an ex-stormtrooper, or even all that experienced as a soldier in the Resistance. She’s a behind-the-scenes worker, and she’s one of the bravest people in all of Star Wars. Rose is great. I hope we see her more and more, and I hope most of all that her philosophy spreads.

 Luke

         Mark Hamill has delighted me for many things beyond playing Luke in the original trilogy all those years ago. From his passionate and unwavering conviction he openly shows on social media, to his rich legacy of voice acting work with a cavalcade of the most deliciously villainous sounding bad guys, and being a regular on the comforting Regular Show, I’ve been thankful for him and his work for a long time now. Seeing him on top form in a live-action role is so pleasant to experience, but certainly not unexpected. What brings a smile to my face is the thought of someone who’s lost track of Hamill since Return of the Jedi, and then goes on to see him in this and is stunned by taking in the weathered, wizened man he plays so very well.

         But it’s not his humour, his countless scenes that represent the crux of this film’s immensely meaty themes that will make it important for a long, long time that I feel is the highlight of what Luke brings to the table; it’s his final standoff. When I saw the sumptuous shot of a line of the First Order’s mechanical might all poised against the lone figure of Luke, I eagerly awaited some almighty display of the Force, hoping to see a grandmaster decimating and scattering war machines like leaves in the wind. But that wouldn’t be right for what this film is trying to be. It would once again put the focus on Luke by making him superior to all the other good guys combined, diminishing all the characters the film had made me feel so invested in with one motion. Instead, Luke’s almighty Force display isn’t a sledgehammer, but an illusion; a magic trick.

Because Luke is a distraction from what’s important.

         Ben may want to wipe away the past, but he’s so obsessed with it that he fails to grasp the true significance of the present, which is that Luke is not the Resistance. Luke’s appearance even reflects this, as his hair doesn’t resemble what he looks like now, but what he looked like the night he and Ben clashed lightsabres. Luke has made himself look like the man Ben remembers, who he will never get over, even though he won’t exist for much longer. The Resistance, the true thorn in Ben and the First Order’s side, and the ones with the real power to affect the future, are making their escape. Meanwhile, the afterimage of a man with no physical presence or power to affect the present is causing an angry man with an entire army at his disposal to waste his time and flail at nothing. The image of Luke Skywalker, the hero who toppled an Empire, is romantic, and we have invested a great deal into it. But it is dangerous for Ben, and it is dangerous for us to think for a moment that the fight will be won by one person with special blood that was born into greatness, when it will be fought and won by a group of people who have multiple backgrounds that have come together.

 Leia

         I don’t know enough about the technicalities that went into this film’s production to know how much of it would have been filmed and completed before Carrie Fisher passed away, or how much of the final product was affected by a loss that still feels difficult to believe. Whatever the case, it is fortuitous that we got as much as we did of Carrie’s final performance. It’s hard to admit this, but I thought the little we saw of Leia in Force Awakens was a little off the first time I saw it, even though it felt wonderful to see the character again. She didn’t have as much time to develop this new, aged version of Leia as Harrison Ford did as Han, and I found it difficult to interpret what she was like now, how she felt about things, and what sort of approach they were taking with her character going forward.

         But whether it’s the change in director, the fact that we got a lot more time with her on screen, or a combination of the storybeats, tugging at your heartstrings music, and a performance that feels like Carrie was in a comfortable place where she knew exactly how to play the part, the Leia we see in The Last Jedi is exactly what we needed and wanted to see. The way she carries herself makes it plain that this woman is a general, a leader who inspires people and has such gravity that you can’t help but be pulled towards them. It also made all the difference that you could hear the real Carrie Fisher coming through in the delivery, because you at once knew that Leia still wouldn’t take crap from anyone, but was also kind-hearted enough to want the best for the people around her. That is a woman I know people would believe in, follow, and care enough for to fight for the same things that she does. Watching this film makes you unsure if Carrie really ever left, because she feels so alive and with us in this performance. It’s only when the credits roll, and the dedication appears on screen accompanied by an echoing rendition of Leia’s theme that the loss feels achingly real again.

 Conclusion

         You’ve read far enough to know I think this movie’s great. I’m glad I waited before I wrote about this, because I wouldn’t have known what to say a week ago. I know that the people who have a deep hatred for this movie will likely not change their minds, and that’s fine. No one owes anyone anything when it comes to how they feel about a movie. I hope a lot of people do enjoy a film about facing failures and disappointment with reflection and a resolve to make sure you never stop trying to protect what you love, rather than putting all your energy into attacking what you hate, because I’d simply like to see more of that. Putting everything about Star Wars aside, I think any film with that sort of message is worth making and seeing.

9/10.

Filled with a strong host of characters, an appreciation for the old but an eye on the future, and a valuable theme that we are all capable of brave resolve in the face of failure and hate, The Last Jedi is an excellent film. It’s also a pretty decent Star Wars movie too.

[heckofabecca]

THE STEPPING-STONES OF THE RIVER ISEN

When a young Dunlending woman appears at the Fords of Isen, Erkenbrand, Marshal of the West-mark, is caught in a decades-old secret that shakes Éomer King to his core.

part four (4157 words) of five | part one | part two | part three | on AO3

A/N: It’s always a challenge to write from the perspective of a well-defined character, but it’s so worth it! Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think, xoxo

Éomer tugged at his beard and paced in front of the desk. Éothain, his lieutenant, and Elfhelm, Marshal of the East-Mark, both stood nearby, their faces lighter now than they had been at the beginning of the harvest tally. The scribe dipped his quill in ink and looked expectantly at his king. When Éomer turned back to the scribe, it took a moment for Yffi’s silhouette against the wide window to come into focus.

“Yffi, write to King Elessar and to Imrahil of Dol Amroth,” Éomer instructed. “Tell them we are set for the winter thanks to their aid and a lucky harvest.” His jaw twitched; he swallowed. He ought to write himself, but his pride flagged at the empty thanks he could offer now. Yffi was far better with words than he, and the scribe was already bent over his parchment, scribbling away. “I will sign myself.”

“As you wish, lord,” Yffi said, still writing.

Éomer, Elfhelm, and Éothain drew away from the desk to door of the study.

“Based on Erkenbrand’s numbers, the West-mark will be harder to feed,” Elfhelm said. “But provisions can be moved.”

“And people, if need be,” Éothain added.

Éomer waved that away. “Enough Éorlingas have become refugees,” he said. “I want none of that.”

Elfhelm pursed his lips. “I’ll talk with Erkenbrand when he arrives. He should be here soon. He’ll know better than I if your wish is possible.”

“Béma willing, it will be,” Éothain said. He clapped Éomer’s arm. “Well, whether we need to relocate people or not, we will make it through this winter thanks to you.”

“And Gondor,” Éomer said darkly.

Éothain and Elfhelm exchanged a look.

“It’s the least they can do,” Éothain said. “We saved them, didn’t we?”

Éomer sighed. He waved them out with the scribe once Yffi had finished. The study door closed with its usual creak behind them, and Éomer sat down to browse Yffi’s work.

Yes, it was much better that Yffi had composed the letters. The scribe’s Westron was perfect. Éomer was no great writer, in terms of penmanship or style, and his stung pride would have screamed out of every sentence if he’d written to Aragorn and Imrahil himself.

Though his new friends did not begrudge him his pride. They were proud men themselves, and they understood. Neither envied his position; Éomer had understood that well enough. Yet they seemed confident that in time, Éomer would repay all of their help. Imrahil had mentioned the Mark’s famed horses; Aragorn had spoken of campaigns to the south and east.

But horses and war seemed paltry indeed compared with keeping his people from starving.

Éomer signed his name on Yffi’s letters.

He lit a match to melt his wax while the ink dried, and he read through Yffi’s compositions one more time. The man was a real marvel.

A knock at the door made Éomer look up. “Enter,” he called.

It was Irminric, Meduseld’s steward, and the man looked anxious enough that Éomer stood. But Irminric only bowed.

“Marshal Erkenbrand has arrived, lord,” Irminric said. He did not meet Éomer’s eyes. “He has brought a guest from the Hornburg.”

“Very good,” Éomer said, frowning. He sat back down. “Show them in.”

“The marshal wished for his guest to make themselves presentable after the ride. They will be in shortly,” Irminric said. At last he met his king’s eye, and Éomer saw how deeply unsettled he was.

“Who has come, Irminric?” Éomer demanded. The match burned down to his fingers, and Éomer hissed and blew it out.

Irminric quaked. “My lord, it is—”

“Westú Éomer hal,” Erkenbrand said loudly. He marched in from the hallway without preamble and gave Irminric such a look that the steward bowed at once and retreated. Erkenbrand bowed.

Éomer leaned forward on his desk. He could feel the damp ink under his palms and growled. Of all the—! “Who have you brought that has my steward so disquieted?”

“A Dunlending,” Erkenbrand said at once.

“What!” Éomer sprang back from his desk. “You are not serious. They are forbidden in these lands.”

But Erkenbrand was not joking. He only bowed. “I beg your leave, lord, but I felt you would wish to meet this one.” He stood and looked straight at Éomer. Unease lurked in Erkenbrand’s deep-set eyes, but he spoke firmly. “Her father is from the Mark.”

“Many Wild Men have blood from here,” Éomer said, “but that does not give them leave to enter the Riddermark.” He wiped his inky hands against his trousers. “You had no right to allow any to enter, much less bring one to my hall.”

Erkenbrand pressed his lips together unhappily. He was silent for some time. “You will understand when he meet her,” he said at last. “I cannot say more; it is not my place. But I beg that you receive her, that I might consider my duty to you fulfilled.” He bowed again and did not rise.

Éomer shook his head, though Erkenbrand’s face was to the ground and he could not see. This was beyond comprehension. What was his marshal thinking? Had the war affected him so badly? No, for Erkenbrand’s wife or Éomer’s own steward would have informed Éomer. And Erkenbrand had not seemed addled, only concerned. Perhaps it was worth hearing the man out. Finding someone to replace him right now would only mean more headaches.

“Very well,” Éomer said, though his voice was cold. “You may bring your… guest in. I will see her.”

The relief on Erkenbrand’s face was its own kind of reassurance, Éomer thought. He jogged out, leaving Éomer alone again.

And Éomer had thought that the harvest tally was going to be the hardest part of the day. He sighed and went to look over Yffi’s letters. His signatures weren’t smudged too badly to send, although Yffi would disagree. He folded the two letters and pressed the back of his ring into the hot wax seals. Better to get them sealed and out of sight before… Well, before.

Was he as mad as Erkenbrand?

Éomer ran a hand across his forehead and then remembered the ink. “Damn!” He rubbed the corner of his sleeve where he suspected the ink was. No telling what he looked like now, he supposed. There were no mirrors in the study.

Erkenbrand’s voice echoed in from the hall, and Éomer strained to hear.

“Buck up, girl,” his marshal said in Westron.

“You’re one to talk! You’re as nervous as I am!”

The girl sounded peevish; Éomer wondered if she looked as grumpy as she sounded. But why should she be upset? Was she not here by her own design?

Erkenbrand reappeared in the doorway. He paused when he saw Éomer. “Wait there,” he ordered, and the girl remained out of sight in the hall. In their own tongue, Erkenbrand said, “Here.” He passed Éomer a handkerchief and pointed to a spot on his face.

“Thank you,” Éomer said. After a minute of vigorous polishing, his forehead was apparently clear again, for Erkenbrand nodded and went back to the hall to bring in the girl.

Éomer steeled himself. The last time he had seen a Dunlending, it was at the Battle of the Hornburg, when his uncle had been king. Théoden had had the grace to be generous with his defeated enemies. Éomer was not sure if he had his uncle’s poise.

Erkenbrand came in first, and Éomer could see little of the girl behind his armored marshal.

“Lord, this is Gwir, daughter of Maderun,” Erkenbrand said in Westron. He bowed and stepped aside.

Gwir, daughter of Maderun stared at Éomer with the same dark, angled eyes as her mother’s people. She was scared out of her wits, though she was doing her best to conceal it.

At least she wasn’t a total idiot, Éomer thought. Only an idiot would be unafraid to show their face to their enemy’s king.

He studied the girl. She looked about the same age as his sister, so perhaps young woman would have done her more justice. Her hair was dark and braided around her head like a wreath, and her clothes were simple apart from a crimson belt slung above her hips. Her sleeveless overdress was crossed over itself in the robe-like Dunlendish style. Éomer’s lip curled. Yet her nose and mouth were short and straight, not unlike his own, and though darker than any Éorling, she was paler than any of her people that he had seen. And she had something of his people’s height, although she was short to his eyes.

“Gwir, here is Éomer King,” Erkenbrand continued. He nudged her shoulder and she dipped her upper body in a clumsy bow. Gray glinted in her dark hair.

“Lord,” Gwir said. She looked back up at him as she stood straight and ran her fingers across her nose and mouth. She turned to Erkenbrand. “Is he very like…?” she murmured.

“You have not here come to speak to my marshal,” Éomer said before Erkenbrand could answer. He did not care what she was asking; her question meant nothing to him. “You will address me. Why are you here?”

Gwir hesitated and glanced again at Erkenbrand. Éomer slapped his hand against the desk; she flinched and turned back to him. This time, she did not meet his eyes.

“My chief made me come,” she said. “Ketheric of Llowys craves your notice.”

“He cannot have it,” Éomer said, relieved. If this was all, then all of his worry was baseless. “Tell your chief his message and its messenger are displeasing to me.”

She stiffened. “I do not like his message either, but I would rather not have come. I do not deserve your derision, lord.”

“You flaunted the laws of my land when you stepped foot here,” Éomer said. He came around his desk and stood tall before her. He crossed his arms; such a display of his strength was more intimidation than she had expected, and she swallowed nervously. She had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “You are lucky to be alive.”

“I have a right,” she retorted. She again ran a finger down her short straight nose. “My father…”

She trailed off and again looked at Erkenbrand. Irritation boiled in Éomer’s gut.

“I am king here,” he declared. “Look at me, not at my marshal. He is not your protector. You are safe only through my mercy.” She was still silent. Éomer held out one large fist, and she stepped back instinctively. “Do not try my patience. What right do you have? Your blood is as dark as your people’s.”

Gwir bristled at that. His insult gave her the resolve she needed, finally.

She pulled on the leather cord around her neck. Éomer had not noticed it tucked into her shirt before. Something shiny dangled on the end of it, but she pulled it over her head too fast for him to make it out. She clutched it to her chest, sighed, and held out her hand.

Éomer stared into her open palm. Gwir’s leather cord was strung through a silver ring. The ring was brightly polished; the cord dangled from her fingers. He stepped closer and squinted to make out the seal on the ring’s flat face. A rider rode through water atop a glorious steed. Éomer recognized the image at once—it depicted Éorl crossing the Anduin into the Fields of Celebrant.

This was the seal of Aldburg.

“Thief!” Éomer snatched the ring from her before Gwir could do more than open her mouth in shock. “You dare come here—”

“That is mine.” Her growl cut through his raised voice, but it did not abate his fury. She stepped forward, her whole body tight with tension. Her hands were open and trembling at her sides. She took another step.

Éomer squeezed his father’s seal in his fist and brandished his hand before her. “This is mine by right,” he hissed. “You have no claim to it.”

“It is mine!” Gwir flung herself at him and tried to pry his fingers open. Éomer’s eyes darkened with rage. “He put it on me with his own two hands!”

He saw red. With a shout and great force, he shoved Gwir away from him. She reeled back, dark eyes wide, and tumbled down. She banged her head against the stone doorframe and groaned. Erkenbrand leapt between them and pressed himself against his king before Éomer could swoop down and throttle her. Éomer knew, even in his furious haze, that fighting his marshal was a bad idea.

“Get out!” he bellowed. “Out!”

Gwir shot him a look of pure malice and pulled herself to her feet. She spat at Éomer’s boots, and he wrestled against Erkenbrand’s hold.

“Gwir!” Erkenbrand thundered. The marshal looked ready to throttle the girl himself, but he was still keeping his king back. “How dare you!”

“How dare you!” she cried. She backed up into the entryway and clutched the doorknob for support. Her braids and overdress were askew and her face was ashen. “You are more the thief!”

Éomer finally managed to shove past Erkenbrand. In the face of his naked rage Gwir retreated, slamming the door shut between them. Éomer paused in the face of this new obstacle. His heavy breathing was loud as his anger abated, but as soon as he saw Erkenbrand leaning against the desk, Éomer scowled again.

“You are mad,” he declared.

Erkenbrand stood straight and raised his eyebrows at his king. “I am not. You are the mad one here, lord,” he said. “That girl is not your enemy.”

“What is this, then?” Éomer challenged. He at last opened his fist to reveal his father’s seal. Erkenbrand hissed; the edge of the seal had bitten into Éomer’s skin. The silver ring was coated in blood.

“That is her birthright,” Erkenbrand said. He grabbed the inky kerchief from Éomer’s desk and passed it to his king. He caught Éomer’s eye and held it in his firm gaze. “She is who she claims to be. There is no lie, and she is no thief.”

Éomer shook his head and wiped his blood from the ring. He ignored the stinging in his palm and rubbed the seal until it shone again.

Why was Erkenbrand so sure of the Wild Woman’s story? It was ridiculous—so ridiculous that Éomer could hardly put her claim to words, even in his own mind. The lord of Aldburg… A Dunlending woman… It was far too ridiculous to consider.

And yet Erkenbrand, a man of considerable sense, seemed convinced. Gwir did not seem like a witch; she had not wormed her way into his mind by any mystical means. No, for some reason her story held weight with his marshal.

But why?

“How can you be so sure?” he asked at last. “How do you know she is not lying?”

Erkenbrand sighed heavily, and at last Éomer saw how exhausted the man was. Éomer sat back at his desk, which meant Erkenbrand could sit as well. The older man cast a grateful look at his king, though his gratitude soon darkened into gloom.

“I was there,” Erkenbrand said. “I was there when your father met Maderun.” He turned unhappy eyes back to Éomer. “The Dunlendings have schemed to lay stepping-stones across the river Isen for many years. Maderun was part of such an effort, and she fell in the river. Your father was leading a patrol along the river, and he rescued her from drowning.”

With effort, Éomer tried to think of it dispassionately. But he could not think of it without seeing Gwir’s face, and nothing in her face could have tempted him. He shuddered.

“Maderun was very beautiful,” Erkenbrand continued. “And she was not without charm.”

“Charm!” Éomer spat, disgusted. “No doubt she orchestrated the whole affair and laughed about it with her kinsmen.”

“No indeed,” Erkenbrand said. “For she was young, and she had almost drowned. She did not seem foolish enough to risk her life in pursuit of an enemy.”

So what made his father risk his life in pursuit of her? Éomer still could not grasp what had made his father accept the woman into his bed, but he was too disturbed to ask. Instead, he muttered, “Her daughter seems foolish enough for it.”

“No indeed,” Erkenbrand replied. He leaned forward with conviction. “Gwir has no death wish. She was forced here by her chief, who threatened her. She has submitted to my orders with no—well, with minimal complaint. And she passed on some useful information that confirmed what I had heard before about Dunlending chiefs, and where we might find our best allies to the west.” He paused and looked warily at Éomer. “I did not expect her introduction to go so poorly. I beg your pardon, lord. I only thought you would want to know.”

Éomer sighed. All things considered, he would have been far happier not knowing. Yet…

“She looks younger than I would have thought,” he said. “She does not look older than I am.”

“Béma…” Erkenbrand buried his face in his hand. “She is younger than you. She is twenty-five.”

Horror spread across Éomer face. “You mean,” he sputtered, “that not only did my father consort with the enemy, he betrayed his word to my mother?”

Erkenbrand scooted his chair back from Éomer and nodded glumly. “He did.”

“My father—”

Éomer had no words. He felt more betrayed now than when he realized Gríma’s treachery, than when Théodred had been killed, than when he discovered Éowyn lying as one dead in the Pelennor Fields. This was worse than all of that. The memory of his father had ever been a source of a comfort and strength for Éomer: a righteous, bold man with courage and passion and wisdom. Éomer had always tried to emulate his father, although he knew that the rage he had inherited from him sometimes did more harm than good.

How could he reconcile his memory with what he now heard? Had Éomund’s love for his wife been a lie?

Was Éomer doomed to repeat his father’s mistakes?

“Éomer…”

The pity on Erkenbrand’s weathered face was more than Éomer could bear. “Leave me now, marshal,” he ordered. “Go find the girl and keep her from my sight.”

Erkenbrand stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “As you wish, lord.” He bowed and retreated before Éomer changed his mind.

The door closed, and Éomer was left alone with his thoughts, his bloody hand, and his father’s seal.

---

Éowyn swept in an hour later, her long loose hair windblown from her ride. She had been at Aldburg to visit their great-uncle Cearl, who had been granted the ancestral seat in Éomer’s stead. The afternoon light was slowly fading, but the sight of her still jarred him from his reverie.

“Our uncle has kept your rooms just as they were,” she announced as she made her way to his desk. She stooped over it to kiss his brow. “He has taken others for himself, and promises to have your rooms always ready.”

“Good. Westú hal, sister. Welcome home.” Éomer tried to smile, but from Éowyn’s reaction, he guessed it came out as more of a grimace. Her eyes widened in alarm.

“Are you unwell?” She pressed the back of her cool hand to his forehead. “You have no fever. What is the matter, Éomer?”

Éomer pressed his lips together. “Catch,” he said, and tossed the seal on its leather cord across the desk.

Ever the fighter, Éowyn caught it easily. She turned it over in her hand. “This is not your seal, and yet—”

“It was our father’s,” Éomer blurted. He jumped to his feet and began pacing around his desk, hands clenching and unclenching with each step. “He lost this when you were a babe.”

“And now you have found it?” Éowyn asked. She sounded skeptical.

“It has been delivered to me in the hands of a Dunlending,” he said. He shook his head. “A Dunlending who claims to be our—” The word stuck in his throat, but he swallowed and forced it out. “Our sister.”

Éowyn’s thin eyebrows shot up and she nearly dropped the seal. “What!”

“She claims this was given to her by our father,” Éomer said, nodding at their father’s ring. “She says he put it on her with his own two hands.

“Well that’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “She must have found it and recognized the image.”

“Erkenbrand doesn’t think so. He believes her. He said… he was there, Éowyn. Erkenbrand was there when Fæder met the Wild Woman.”

Éowyn covered her mouth, appalled, but Éomer could not stop, not now.

“Fæder drew her from the river and bedded her,” he said, voice raw. “And then he gave that child his own seal.” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “And she’s only a year older than you, Éowyn. He did all this while married to our mother.” Éomer sat heavily against his desk and tangled his hands through his hair. “He betrayed all of us.”

Éowyn sank into the chair in front of him. She gripped his sleeve and leaned her forehead against his arm. She had no words, and, like Éomer, no tears. He yanked a hand free and rested it on the top of Éowyn’s head.

“Sister…”

“Mm?”

Even in that tiny noise, he could hear Éowyn’s prickly shield. He sighed. Sometimes, his sister’s strength put him to shame. She would never have done as he did. “Éowyn, what should I do?”

“What do you mean?” She straightened and looked up at him, her cool eyes guarded.

“I struck her,” Éomer said. His face burned. “I thought she was a thief, so I took the seal from her. When she tried to take it back—no, it was when she said Fæder had given it to her. I struck her. Hit her, whatever you want.” He pushed away from the desk, away from Éowyn, and strode across the room. “I am full of doubt. How can I accept this?” He waved a hand at the seal in his sister’s hand. “Accepting it means accepting that all we knew of our father was a lie.”

“Not a lie,” Éowyn said. Her mouth twisted. For a few minutes, she sat in silence, thinking. Éomer did not disturb her. Whatever she had to say would be worth the wait.

“It is possible to forget oneself,” she said at last. “I was blinded myself when I rode with you to Mundburg.”

“You were grieved,” Éomer protested. “You were consumed with it. That is not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Éowyn extended a leg and rolled her ankle around to stretch her calf. “My feelings made me betray my duty. If my actions led to good and not ill, it was through chance alone.”

“And skill,” he said, unable to help himself. “And your love for our uncle, for our country.”

“Whatever happened with this woman, all those years ago, it was because our father was lost in his passion. You get that way sometimes. They say you were surrounded on the field after you saw—Well, you might have been killed.”

Éomer slapped the heavy stone wall with his open hand. “I might have been killed? What about you?” But he shook his head before Éowyn could respond. That was not what he was trying to say. “Éowyn. You said so yourself. I get like him, full of passion, or rage, or both.” He lifted his eyes to her. In the fading light, Éowyn’s expression was unreadable. “Am I doomed to make his mistakes?”

She snorted. “I doubt it. I can’t imagine you ever saving a Dunlending from drowning.”

“Éowyn.” He was serious now, and she sobered. “Éowyn, I’m afraid of his legacy. I clung to it, but now…”

“Don’t let it go,” she said. She came to him and clasped his hands around their father’s seal. “Not all of it. He was a good father to us, and a good leader of men. His mistakes…” She paused. “The more you know of him, the better you can protect yourself from his follies. And we all have our follies, Éomer. There is no shame in that.”

Éomer let out his breath. If Éowyn believed he could avoid what had happened to his father, there was hope for him yet. His heart lightened. “Even Faramir?”

“Of course,” Éowyn said. He could hear the relief in her voice. “And Lord Aragorn, and me, and you, and all of them. Now come. It’s too dark to see, and I would see you smile now. Besides, it’s dinnertime.” She pulled him to the door and swung it open. The light in the corridor was dim, but lighter than the study, and Éowyn hooked her arm through Éomer’s and drew him away.

“All that’s left,” Éomer said, “is to decide what to do with Gwir.”

[thiswillbereportedtomanagement]

Turns out the Internet is useful for a lot more than toppling corrupt governments and/or looking at pictures of partially (or fully) nude celebrities. Particularly when it comes to matters concerning your wardrobe.Thanks to advances in technology and logistics (think drones), these days you can go from “I have nothing to wear” to “check out my new sneakers” in a matter of hours given a few clicks and finger swipes in the right direction.However, access doesn’t always correlate with quality; the vagaries of fit and cunning clothes photography make those over-generous store mirrors seem benign.Yes, buying clothes online may come with its potential pitfalls, but provided you bear these pointers in mind, you’ll be spared a life of filling out returns forms and long post office queues.What Not To BuyCertain things lend themselves to being bought online. Once you know your size (and we’d hope you do by now), staples like socks and underwear don’t pose the same issues of fit that, say, a £3,000 wool-cashmere blend overcoat does. Nor do you necessarily need to handle the goods before buying.Tailoring, though, is trickier. After all, buying a suit is all about fit. A cheaper suit that hugs your shoulders and chest will always look better than an expensive one that pools around your ankles or has sleeves that finish halfway up your forearm.(Related: Ways To Make A Budget Suit Look Expensive)Yes, certain things can be adjusted, but if you steer wrong in the shoulders or thighs then no Milanese needle wizard is going to be able to help you. When an inch makes all the difference, even the most comprehensive online size guide just won’t cut it.There are really only two occasions on which you should buy tailoring online:When you’re replacing a piece (from the same brand) you already own and know fits well.When you’ve already tried something on in store and have scouted out a better digital deal or got hold of an online discount code.Otherwise, even if you find that perfect double-breasted blazer you’ve been lusting after since seeing it at Pitti, save yourself some serious hassle and click elsewhere.Make Sure It FitsRemember that tailor who couldn’t fix your beyond-help baggy suit? Get back to him for some proper measurements: height, waist, inseam, chest, sleeve length and neck size are the minimum you’ll want to note down.Store them on your phone, tablet and laptop (as well as in your head) so they’re to hand whenever you’re browsing the sales on your commute or flicking through new the arrivals before bed.Measure Your Own ClothesAs well as your own measurements, you should also take the tape to your favourite pieces in your existing wardrobe too.Lay that perfect-fitting sweatshirt flat and measure it across the chest (between the bottom of each arm seam, then double it), shoulder (seam to seam straight across), back (base of the collar to the hem) and sleeves (cuff to shoulder seam plus seam to centre of the collar label).Compare this blueprint to online size guides to quickly work out if what you’re currently eyeing up is going to come up too snug in the shoulders, even if it fits everywhere else.Body ChangesYou also need to be aware that your body can change during the year. The January sales may scream offers at you, but post-Christmas you may be carrying an extra few pounds. Equally, kudos on hitting the gym, but those broader shoulders and that narrower waist are bound to alter the way clothes fit and hang.(Related: What To Wear When Your Workouts Start Working)In order to prevent these fluctuations from messing up your fit, treat your tailor like your doctor and go back every six months for a measurements check-up or use a flexible tape measure at home to make sure you don’t size up widely different to what you already have written down.Store Size GuidesEvery time you see something you like, locate the store’s size guide and compare with your crib sheet. It would make sense if every retailer and brand followed the same measurements for small, medium and large, but unfortunately the game doesn’t work like that.Use your Goldilocks guide to find out whether that T-shirt is going to come up tent-like, hot washed or just right.Several high-end stores like Mr Porter hand-measure every item and provide extra detail like back length for jackets, while others will give guidance on whether to buy a size up or down from your usual in the product description.Make Sure It Looks As Good On YouA denim jacket on a rail looks like, well, a jacket. Stick it on a slim, six-foot model and team it with the perfect pair of tailored trousers and a cashmere roll neck, and it becomes art. If you don’t have the same physique or wardrobe, then don’t expect to emulate that masterpiece at home.It doesn’t help that stylists have a weapon that you can’t realistically deploy: the bulldog clip. Using this handy device, excess fabric is pulled back and clipped tight, giving a sleeker silhouette – it’s how models you see in magazines can step into clothes that aren’t tailored and make them look like they’re bespoke.(Related: 10 Style Hacks From The UK’s Best Stylists)The lesson here is that you can’t always trust model shots or lookbooks. Treat them as guides to styling rather than fit. If you have a similar jacket and shoes to the guy in the picture, then you know that pair of houndstooth trousers will work with at least one look.On the other hand, if you’re tempted by a pair of leather trousers and your wardrobe is more button-downs and blazers than the mesh tops and longline shirts sported in the picture, then it’s probably best to pass.Top Tip: If the retailer offers a video of the item being worn, always view it – you will get a much better idea of how the garment fits, drapes and moves, as well as a truer indication of colour.Where To BuyWith space not an issue, online retailers don’t have to be as focused in their product ranges as brick and mortar stores. That’s not to say they don’t specialise or have stronger offerings in certain areas, though.Most also provide free returns and a flat postage fee, no matter how much you order. So if you can’t afford for your purchase not to be perfect and have no time to re-order another, an easy way around this is to stock up your basket with three sizes of each item: the one you think is right, then one up and one down.By bracketing in this way, you increase your chances of finding the perfect fit and can return the ones that don’t work. Just take care when un-boxing and trying on – removing certain tags or tearing packaging can void your right to return.Without wanting to sound too much like Martin Lewis, it’s important you brush up on your rights as a consumer, specifically when it comes to purchasing online.Store: End ClothingBest For: SneakerheadsWhat Is It?: Men have been beating a path to this Newcastle independent since 2005, and more recently its newly opened Glasgow flagship since late 2016. However, it’s End Clothing’s online offering that has made it a destination for sneakerheads from all over the globe.Alongside an achingly cool edit of clothing and accessories, End offers exclusive trainer styles and unique collaborations with the likes of Nike, Adidas, Reebok and New Balance.Price: Mid-rangeWeb: www.endclothing.comStore: Mr PorterBest For: Capsule collections and luxury brandsWhat Is It?: Net-a-Porter’s Y-chromosomed offshoot is big on tailoring (it has been selling its in house line, Kingsman, since 2015) but as we’ve warned you, that’s a risky game.Still, Mr Porter’s range of collaborations is unrivalled, with designers from Ami’s Alexandre Mattiussi to Paul Smith and even Thom Browne crafting one-off capsule collections you can’t buy anywhere else.Price: LuxuryWeb: www.mrporter.comStore: ASOSBest For: Basics and wardrobe staplesWhat Is It?: With over 850 brands onsite, and an Amazon-rivalling fulfilment centre staffed by thousands of employees, finding clothes on ASOS can be a touch intimidating.But it’s a sign of how influential the retailer has become that an entire subculture of young men wearing longline tops, ripped skinny jeans and snapbacks can be traced to its model shots.Avoid joining them by picking up classic wardrobe staples like white T-shirts, Oxford shirts and underwear, rather than whole looks – even if it is tempting when you can get an entire outfit for less than £50.Price: Affordable, with a smattering of designer brandsWeb: www.asos.comStore: HypebeastBest For: StreetwearWhat Is It?: Hypebeast has been keeping the streetwear savvy in the know with upcoming drops for several years now. However, not many realise the site also has its own online store, which boasts an almost unrivalled line-up of mainstream and underground labels.So while others cue round the blocks to get their hands on the latest must-cops, the smart shopper camps out in front of his computer. Though try to avoid anything labelled ‘marketplace’, which is basically code for astronomical mark-up.Price: Luxury, with some more affordable finds mixed inWeb: hbx.comStore: FarfetchBest For: One-offsWhat Is It?: Farfetch isn’t so much a store as a concierge. As the name hints, rather than stocking and dispatching clothes themselves, they tap up an array of international independent boutiques so that, sat at home in Bognor, you can shop the best that Milan, New York and even Tokyo have to offer.Prices are understandably high, but you’ve got a good chance of stumbling across something truly one of a kind – perfect for individualising your looks.Price: LuxuryWeb: www.farfetch.comStore: Vestiaire CollectiveBest For: Second-hand findsWhat Is It: If a hefty price tag puts you off buying designer pieces, it might be time to acquaint yourself with designer re-sale site Vestiaire Collective. The eBay of the luxury world has made it easier than ever to get your hands on that piece that eluded you (and your bank balance) last season.This is no car boot sale, mind. Expect more than 600,000 items, each of which has been manually checked for quality and authenticity, from the likes of Comme des Garçons, Acne Studios and Saint Laurent.Price: VariesWeb: http://ift.tt/16TtK4fStore: YooxBest For: Bargain huntingWhat Is It?: Navigating Yoox is like stepping into the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.A nightmare to navigate and rammed with brands you’ve never heard of, and some you will never want to hear of again, you’ll be just about to give up when you spot a Moncler parka at 80 per cent off. Which almost makes all the legwork worth it.Price: Every budgetWeb: www.yoox.com

http://www.fashionbeans.com/2017/complete-guide-buying-clothes-online/

[hairterminator]

http://blog.hair-terminator.com/charming-outlook/

A Complete Guide To Buying Clothes Online (Without Regretting It)

#England #http://blog.hair-terminator.com Turns out the Internet is useful for a lot more than toppling corrupt governments and/or looking at pictures of partially (or fully) nude celebrities. Particularly when it comes to matters concerning your wardrobe. Thanks to advances in technology and

#England #http://blog.hair-terminator.com Turns out the Internet is useful for a lot more than toppling corrupt governments and/or looking at pictures of partially (or fully) nude celebrities. Particularly when it comes to matters concerning your wardrobe. Thanks to advances in technology and logistics (think drones), these days you can go from “I have nothing to wear” to “check out my new sneakers” in a matter of hours given a few clicks and finger swipes in the right direction. However, access doesn’t always correlate with quality; the vagaries of fit and cunning clothes photography make those over-generous store mirrors seem benign. Yes, buying clothes online may come with its potential pitfalls, but provided you bear these pointers in mind, you’ll be spared a life of filling out returns forms and long post office queues.

What Not To Buy

Certain things lend themselves to being bought online. Once you know your size (and we’d hope you do by now), staples like socks and underwear don’t pose the same issues of fit that, say, a £3,000 wool-cashmere blend overcoat does. Nor do you necessarily need to handle the goods before buying. Tailoring, though, is trickier. After all, buying a suit is all about fit. A cheaper suit that hugs your shoulders and chest will always look better than an expensive one that pools around your ankles or has sleeves that finish halfway up your forearm. (Related: Ways To Make A Budget Suit Look Expensive) Yes, certain things can be adjusted, but if you steer wrong in the shoulders or thighs then no Milanese needle wizard is going to be able to help you. When an inch makes all the difference, even the most comprehensive online size guide just won’t cut it. There are really only two occasions on which you should buy tailoring online:

When you’re replacing a piece (from the same brand) you already own and know fits well.

When you’ve already tried something on in store and have scouted out a better digital deal or got hold of an online discount code.

Otherwise, even if you find that perfect double-breasted blazer you’ve been lusting after since seeing it at Pitti, save yourself some serious hassle and click elsewhere.

Make Sure It Fits

Remember that tailor who couldn’t fix your beyond-help baggy suit? Get back to him for some proper measurements: height, waist, inseam, chest, sleeve length and neck size are the minimum you’ll want to note down. Store them on your phone, tablet and laptop (as well as in your head) so they’re to hand whenever you’re browsing the sales on your commute or flicking through new the arrivals before bed.

Measure Your Own Clothes

As well as your own measurements, you should also take the tape to your favourite pieces in your existing wardrobe too. Lay that perfect-fitting sweatshirt flat and measure it across the chest (between the bottom of each arm seam, then double it), shoulder (seam to seam straight across), back (base of the collar to the hem) and sleeves (cuff to shoulder seam plus seam to centre of the collar label). Compare this blueprint to online size guides to quickly work out if what you’re currently eyeing up is going to come up too snug in the shoulders, even if it fits everywhere else.

Body Changes

You also need to be aware that your body can change during the year. The January sales may scream offers at you, but post-Christmas you may be carrying an extra few pounds. Equally, kudos on hitting the gym, but those broader shoulders and that narrower waist are bound to alter the way clothes fit and hang. (Related: What To Wear When Your Workouts Start Working) In order to prevent these fluctuations from messing up your fit, treat your tailor like your doctor and go back every six months for a measurements check-up or use a flexible tape measure at home to make sure you don’t size up widely different to what you already have written down.

Store Size Guides

Every time you see something you like, locate the store’s size guide and compare with your crib sheet. It would make sense if every retailer and brand followed the same measurements for small, medium and large, but unfortunately the game doesn’t work like that. Use your Goldilocks guide to find out whether that T-shirt is going to come up tent-like, hot washed or just right. Several high-end stores like Mr Porter hand-measure every item and provide extra detail like back length for jackets, while others will give guidance on whether to buy a size up or down from your usual in the product description.

Make Sure It Looks As Good On You

A denim jacket on a rail looks like, well, a jacket. Stick it on a slim, six-foot model and team it with the perfect pair of tailored trousers and a cashmere roll neck, and it becomes art. If you don’t have the same physique or wardrobe, then don’t expect to emulate that masterpiece at home. It doesn’t help that stylists have a weapon that you can’t realistically deploy: the bulldog clip. Using this handy device, excess fabric is pulled back and clipped tight, giving a sleeker silhouette – it’s how models you see in magazines can step into clothes that aren’t tailored and make them look like they’re bespoke. (Related: 10 Style Hacks From The UK’s Best Stylists)

The lesson here is that you can’t always trust model shots or lookbooks. Treat them as guides to styling rather than fit. If you have a similar jacket and shoes to the guy in the picture, then you know that pair of houndstooth trousers will work with at least one look. On the other hand, if you’re tempted by a pair of leather trousers and your wardrobe is more button-downs and blazers than the mesh tops and longline shirts sported in the picture, then it’s probably best to pass. Top Tip: If the retailer offers a video of the item being worn, always view it – you will get a much better idea of how the garment fits, drapes and moves, as well as a truer indication of colour.

Where To Buy

With space not an issue, online retailers don’t have to be as focused in their product ranges as brick and mortar stores. That’s not to say they don’t specialise or have stronger offerings in certain areas, though. Most also provide free returns and a flat postage fee, no matter how much you order. So if you can’t afford for your purchase not to be perfect and have no time to re-order another, an easy way around this is to stock up your basket with three sizes of each item: the one you think is right, then one up and one down. By bracketing in this way, you increase your chances of finding the perfect fit and can return the ones that don’t work. Just take care when un-boxing and trying on – removing certain tags or tearing packaging can void your right to return. Without wanting to sound too much like Martin Lewis, it’s important you brush up on your rights as a consumer, specifically when it comes to purchasing online.

Store: End Clothing

Best For: Sneakerheads What Is It?: Men have been beating a path to this Newcastle independent since 2005, and more recently its newly opened Glasgow flagship since late 2016. However, it’s End Clothing’s online offering that has made it a destination for sneakerheads from all over the globe. Alongside an achingly cool edit of clothing and accessories, End offers exclusive trainer styles and unique collaborations with the likes of Nike, Adidas, Reebok and New Balance. Price: Mid-range Web: www.endclothing.com

Store: Mr Porter

Best For: Capsule collections and luxury brands What Is It?: Net-a-Porter’s Y-chromosomed offshoot is big on tailoring (it has been selling its in house line, Kingsman, since 2015) but as we’ve warned you, that’s a risky game. Still, Mr Porter’s range of collaborations is unrivalled, with designers from Ami’s Alexandre Mattiussi to Paul Smith and even Thom Browne crafting one-off capsule collections you can’t buy anywhere else. Price: Luxury Web: www.mrporter.com

Store: ASOS

Best For: Basics and wardrobe staples What Is It?: With over 850 brands onsite, and an Amazon-rivalling fulfilment centre staffed by thousands of employees, finding clothes on ASOS can be a touch intimidating. But it’s a sign of how influential the retailer has become that an entire subculture of young men wearing longline tops, ripped skinny jeans and snapbacks can be traced to its model shots. Avoid joining them by picking up classic wardrobe staples like white T-shirts, Oxford shirts and underwear, rather than whole looks – even if it is tempting when you can get an entire outfit for less than £50. Price: Affordable, with a smattering of designer brands Web: www.asos.com

Store: Hypebeast

Best For: Streetwear What Is It?: Hypebeast has been keeping the streetwear savvy in the know with upcoming drops for several years now. However, not many realise the site also has its own online store, which boasts an almost unrivalled line-up of mainstream and underground labels. So while others cue round the blocks to get their hands on the latest must-cops, the smart shopper camps out in front of his computer. Though try to avoid anything labelled ‘marketplace’, which is basically code for astronomical mark-up. Price: Luxury, with some more affordable finds mixed in Web: hbx.com

Store: Farfetch

Best For: One-offs What Is It?: Farfetch isn’t so much a store as a concierge. As the name hints, rather than stocking and dispatching clothes themselves, they tap up an array of international independent boutiques so that, sat at home in Bognor, you can shop the best that Milan, New York and even Tokyo have to offer. Prices are understandably high, but you’ve got a good chance of stumbling across something truly one of a kind – perfect for individualising your looks. Price: Luxury Web: www.farfetch.com

Store: Vestiaire Collective

Best For: Second-hand finds What Is It: If a hefty price tag puts you off buying designer pieces, it might be time to acquaint yourself with designer re-sale site Vestiaire Collective. The eBay of the luxury world has made it easier than ever to get your hands on that piece that eluded you (and your bank balance) last season. This is no car boot sale, mind. Expect more than 600,000 items, each of which has been manually checked for quality and authenticity, from the likes of Comme des Garçons, Acne Studios and Saint Laurent. Price: Varies Web: www.vestiairecollective.com

Store: Yoox

Best For: Bargain hunting What Is It?: Navigating Yoox is like stepping into the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. A nightmare to navigate and rammed with brands you’ve never heard of, and some you will never want to hear of again, you’ll be just about to give up when you spot a Moncler parka at 80 per cent off. Which almost makes all the legwork worth it. Price: Every budget Web: www.yoox.com

Let"s block ads! (Why?)