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diamondcitydarlin · 5 days ago

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Just finished DATV last night, thought I'd type up a little 'review' of my thoughts and what I thought were pros/cons etc, for anyone thinking of purchasing and trying it out but might be on the fence or whatever. Or just for fun idk lol. There are probably going to be some very minor spoilers below the cut, though I'm really going to try to avoid mentioning the big ones (at the very least I will avoid mentioning specifics lol, but probably not a spoiler-free review).

PROS

Really loved the combat system in this one a lot, despite the fact that the rogue class (at least so far as I can tell, I was a veil-jumper/archer focused and put my talent points into the related tree so that might have influenced things I have no idea) doesn't have stealth in this one. You don't necessarily need it, but I feel a stealth option would have come in handy during fights when the player needs to do mechanics with blight boils and crystals etc, especially as the monsters seem to hone-in solely on the main player no matter what. SORRY this is still a pro! Despite the lack of stealth, I still really liked the combat system and mechanics a lot, it's very fluid with the dodges and sprints. It was also pretty reminiscent to playing World of Warcraft which I often do, so I felt like it fit my current skill set lol. HOWEVER, as others have said, this combat system isn't really RPG and isn't like how they've done combat in games past, so be aware of that.

Opinions are going to vary on this, but I feel like the companions are all pretty solid and likeable, which for me is a bit of a departure bc in every game there's usually one or two that I avoid/dislike or find boring for whatever reason (not gonna name names lol). This also makes the choices you'll face with them A LOT harder, but for me that's a pro. Rip my heart into shreds please.

Obviously the graphics and aesthetics are gorgeous, top-tier, the design team really put their whole pussy into this lol. Not much else needs to be said on this point other than I also appreciated the lack of glitches and issues (I think between my husband and I playing alongside each other, we encountered maybe only one or two issues in the whole playthrough, kudos to the QA team!). Ig that last one is kind of a lowbar, but in a world where games often get shipped too early and riddled with issues, it's nice to play something newly released that has obviously been play-tested over and over and over and is pretty seamless as a result.

This is more of a personal one and kind of a SPOILER but: I really loved how involved the Inquisitor was in the story. I really expected us to see them maybe once or twice, but my girl reappears REGULARLY across the entire story, which is so fun. It makes sense, of course, as the Inquisitor would've been close with Solas whether they romanced him or not (or even hated him, as my Inquisitor did). Also fun to see her and Dorian sorta hanging out together again bc they were besties in my game. IDK if everyone's going to care about that since most people didn't seem to like Inquisition very much -it's my fave don't kill me-, but she's a really important OC for me so that was cool lol. (None of the other former MCs appear or even get mentioned as far as I'm aware, including Hawke, which...considering what happens was a bit of a mistake imo)

This might be a 'con' for some people, but this game is (imo) more puzzle-heavy than the others, in terms of having a lot of main and side quests where you have to figure out which crystals need to be destroyed or empowered etc, and that's something I actually enjoy even (and especially) in combat, so if you like those kind of mechanics I think you'll really enjoy this game.

CONS

As mentioned above and as others have said, this isn't really a proper RPG as DA games have been in the past. You still have a team of companions (three, including yourself) and you can still control their attacks, but you don't control them directly and as far as I could tell there was no proper tactical map (but it's also possible I missed it...I didn't figure out how runes on my dagger worked until the final boss SO LOL)

While the companions are all really likeable, strong characters (imo) and you do get a good amount of side quests with them and personal stories and the like, I still sort of feel like it was lacking in comparison to the others on this front. IDK, in the other games it felt like there was more time, more dialogue, more cutscenes spent on fleshing out those friendship/team/romance bonds, and especially with the success of BG3, I had been sort of hoping BioWare would take notes and have more random personal cutscenes here and there to discover, more moments of the team just fucking around together etc. It's still there, I just felt like there could have been...more? Like, in DA:I how you can just go chat with companions out of cutscene here and there when you go back to Haven or Skyhold, and those convos are completely optional but reveal a lot about the companion you're talking to. Not a thing in this game, you only talk to the companions when they have scheduled cutscenes and I feel like something was missing without that option to just go kinda casually shoot the shit with them. Those kinda dialogues also gave opportunity to find out what's going on with companions of past games, but as that's not a thing in this one we don't really...know about a lot of them.

The Rook character. Okay, I want to preface that I actually loved my Rook a lot in this first playthrough, but that's because I don't really mind playing a character that is morally good and a team player. If you were hoping for more options in defining your Rook character, maybe doing an evil playthrough though, I have unfortunate news. There really aren't a lot of options for defining the Rook character in different ways and you're sort of locked into a lawfully or chaotic good path with them. I feel that was a missed opportunity to bring more options into the game for replays, like an outcome where you could do an evil Rook and side with the Elven gods or something. I'm honestly not even sure if you can piss off your companions so much they leave or hate you, but maybe? Seems like that would be the REAL challenge as Rook is just kind of locked into being a nice person no matter what.

The crafting system. I honestly don't remember a lot about the crafting systems in Origins and DA2, but I do replay DA:I a lot and can confidently say that I fucking LOVE the armor/weapon crafting system in DA:I. I love that you can recolor armor sets based on the materials you've gathered. I love that the player themselves are like, working at a forge to make them, so it feels like they're doing it personally for their friends lol. I love that you can find schematics in-world for making new armors and weapons. DATV pretty much takes all of that away. Materials you gather in DATV are just for upgrading preexisting armors, which the Crossroads Caretaker does themselves. The only way to get new armors and appearances is to buy them from vendors or loot them from chests etc. I feel like this was a really big misstep on their part because the crafting system of yore was a BIG chunk of the fun for me and half the reason I loved grinding so long. This is probably the worst sin of the game imo, but this is totally personal preference.

Another big one for me- as many of you probably already know, this game doesn't factor in the world states as the others did, it just asks which character the Inquisitor romanced in DA:I. That's it. It doesn't care who ended up being Divine (despite the Divine being mentioned frequently) it doesn't care what choices you made in other games regarding the lore, it doesn't care what other kind of relationships you might have had with companions. Actually, I think losing the world states is probably the biggest sin of this game, way more than the crafting system. It obviously wasn't a deal-breaker for me, but I really feel that A LOT was lost without factoring in the world states and making follow-ups in this story as they've done in the past. I KNOW that would be a lot of work to develop and account for, but as it's been a staple of this series and incorporated into past games it's pretty disappointing to not have it at all this time.

(I technically have more 'cons' but they're too spoilery and just regard lore decisions I didn't totally agree with so I'll leave those out)

On the whole, I really thought it was a super fun game and I will most likely do more playthroughs at some point. However, if you are a DA fan and have played all the games, it will be impossible not to compare and contrast, and I think most DA fans will probably find this game to be the weakest of the four. But, still, it's a gorgeous, fun, and pretty solid action/adventure game, so I think if you like that sort of thing it's worth a try to play!

#datv spoilers #dragon age #dragon age spoilers #datv

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candewlsy · 7 months ago

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MOOT GAME !!!!!!!!! haha which idol would u ship ur moots with ??

Mooties game lesgaur!!

❛ @wondipity ༉‧₊˚✧

[Jungwon - Enhypen] During our conversation, Bell and I mainly talked about Jungwon. In my opinion, they would make the most perfect and adorable couple. I can vividly imagine them spending their time laughing, being affectionate and enjoying each other's company all day, every day. Their chemistry is so undeniable and their connection is so strong that it seems impossible for anyone or anything to come between them.

❛ @enmayz-deactivated20240331 ༉‧₊˚✧

[ Jake - Enhypen ] I know she deactivated her account but that won't stop me from adding her to my moot game 😿 ( I miss her) Okay! So, Lily and Jake would be the hottest and coolest couple 😍 Jake is hot same goes for Lily. Lily's not fond of men unless it's her man Jake 🤭 ahem, not gonna talk about the cowboy edit we talked ‼️ I want to be THEIR baby please adopt me.

❛ @chlorinecake ༉‧₊˚✧

Chloe is an absolutely endearing young girl, with a smile that can light up anyone's da (FIGHT ME THIS IS REAL) Riki, on the other hand, is a playful and charming guy, who loves to tease and have fun with his friends. It's easy to imagine that Riki would often pull Chloe's leg, but she wouldn't mind it one bit. In fact, she might even go ahead and dress him up in cute outfits, just to see him blush and pout. Despite Riki's apparent dislike for cute things, it's hard to deny that he secretly enjoys them when it comes to Chloe. The way he looks at her, with a mix of tenderness and mischief, makes it clear that he can't resist her charms. And while they may appear as just good friends in public, it's evident that their relationship goes deeper than that. Behind closed doors, they're passionate lovers, who share a bond that's both electric and intimate 😼

❛ @fakeuwus ༉‧₊˚✧

[Jay - Enhypen] Whenever Jay is mentioned, Nichi will appear. Where there is Jay, there is Nichi. I think Nichi and Jay would be the softest and calmest couple, always following each other around. I can see them staring at each other's eyes under the Moon, spending their time under the blanket cuddling like there's no tomorrow. In their own little world, isn't that cute 😭

❛ @heeslut4life ༉‧₊˚✧

[Heeseung - Enhypen] her username. Yeah, it's obvious. Aeri is a princess and of course, she's attractive and pretty (idk whatchu say about her, she's a princess) Heeseung is attractive and hot. The hottest and most attractive couple ever! I see them tease each other and giggle while kissing 👀 heeseung would probably tease the hell out of her and Aeri being cute and shy whenever he teases her. Other than that, they're also mature. THEY LITERALLY MEANT FOR EACH OTHER BRO DON'T SAY OTHERWISE.

❛ @minhosimthings ༉‧₊˚✧

[Beomgyu - Tomorrow x Together] "Mona's free-spirited nature is perfectly complemented by Beomgyu's lively personality, making them a perfect match. I can easily imagine them causing some harmless chaos, like bursting into fits of uncontrollable laughter in a library and getting kicked out, unintentionally scaring a child with their playful antics, or even sneaking away with candy from unsuspecting kids.

❛ @dear-hoon ༉‧₊˚✧

[Sunghoon - Enhypen] I perceive Lucky as someone who enjoys creating mischief and stirring up trouble. It is widely known that Sunghoon has an outgoing personality, despite being an introvert, and he often engages in impulsive and unpredictable behavior, especially when it comes to getting a rise out of Jay. I envision Lucky and Sunghoon teaming up to provoke Jay and Xyn.

❛ @moon7jay ༉‧₊˚✧

[Jay - Enhypen] Xyn radiates an elegant and expensive vibe, making her and Jay the perfect fashion icon couple. They look great together, often matching their outfits and taking photos of each other to post on social media. I can see them becoming one of those aesthetic and wealthy couples. (Literally adopt me mommy-)

❛ @wonlvkay ༉‧₊˚✧

[Jake - Enhypen] Kayla is such a sweet and charming girl, the perfect match for Jakey 🤭 they'll be the greenest flag couple ever

#Lovely mooties ｡⁠*⁠♡#mizu moots game 🎮#mizu's 📫!

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fgfluidity · 26 days ago

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bartender (part 4)

Summary: bartender- English, ‘the one who mixes drinks’

Over time and betrayal, people and drinks both change. (sequel to pincerna)

Pairings: Damien/DA, Mark/Celine, Wil/Celine (all only mentioned)

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, alcohol (obviously); please drink responsibly

Bartender: 1 | 2 | 3

support me?

@opprose @volbeast @statictay @otterlyinluv @mirrorslament @alaroweq

III.

♫ When you're laying so close to me There's no place I'd rather you be Than with me ♫

It’s hard to find a shadowy part of this venue to hole up in. The mirror ball twirls above the dance floor, and colored lights flash from a multitude of angles; everyone wears something bright, something revealing, sequins and metallics and jewelry all hoping to emulate the sparkle above them.

That’s the style, these days: bright, shining, glitter and sparkle over everything. There’s no such thing as too much.

As if their own time didn’t have that problem, he’ll admit, but Wil… was never really a part of it.

Sure, Wil had his excesses. They all did, in their ways-- Mark had his manor, Celine her intense studies, his own efforts in alcohol and coffee. Wil went for experience, adventures halfway around the world, exotic animals and weaponry. He wasn’t quite for color and flash, at least not in his personal style; he could count the times Wil wore anything other than neutral canvas on one hand.

It’s certainly not the case, now, though Damien can’t deny it’s very much an experience.

He’s on the stage, dressed in some of the flashiest clothes in the place. His hair is starting to shade pink, following right on the tail of his mustache, pink as bubblegum and curling proudly on his upper lip. While several women stand behind him, acting as accessory to his frankly improbable dance moves, the only person next to him is a bald man Damien can’t look at too long.

The disco ball can only do so much against his glitchy darkness. Stark red and blue wouldn’t fit with the aesthetic, anyway.

“Why so glum, chum?”

Damien doesn’t jump. Flinch, perhaps, and a nearby tray of drink jostles due to a stray bolt of nothing, but he doesn’t jump. “Wil.”

He didn’t look away. He didn’t blink. Wil was simply on the stage, and then he was right there, holding some concoction that rivals his mustache in color.

The drink wobbles dangerously close to the edge as he tries to drink it, to middling success.

“Damie! It’s been a little while. A couple weeks from now, actually-- you even cleaned up your suit!” He looks to him fondly, before he grimaces. “My, but it’s grim, though. Are you sure you don’t want any color to it?”

“You know I’ve never been one for colors.” He doesn’t bother working out the mind-bending timeline. For all that he’s changed, at least Damien experiences time sequentially.

For the most part.

“Well, you should try. I have a whole wardrobe, I could let you borrow something.” He strokes his mustache, as if perusing the wardrobe in real time. “It’d change your attitude around! Again, what’s so wrong? I love having you, I do, but… well, you’re kind of bumming the party out.”

He delivers his last sentence in a stage whisper, and Damien glances around to follow his eyes. He’s astute, at least-- in a small radius around him, the color desaturates and dims, the bright disco music drowned out by a whine of static.

Perhaps he isn’t quite so as unaffected-- or in control-- as he’d thought. He takes a breath, and as he lets it go, the radius shrinks. It doesn’t disappear, unfortunately, but it at least shrinks to his immediate vicinity. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your party, Wil. I apologize.”

Wil sniffs. “I accept your apology, but you’re still not answering my question, and I take that very seriously. You used to be such a party animal, why are you graying my party with your attitude?”

“I didn’t think I was,” Damien replies. His new aura unnerves him as much as anyone, after all-- doing it on purpose feels wrong, when he can manage it.“I just thought I’d check in-- I’m-- I’m not much of a party animal, these days.”

“No, you’re just boring now.” Pouting, Wil throws out his mostly-empty glass; in seconds, he has a full one, pulled from nowhere as far as Damien can tell. “Oh, I have to have my revenge, oh, I have to save my beloved from his grubby little mitts, oh, I’m too busy to consider my friend’s television pitch. Boring.”

He’s been called boring, before. A stuffed shirt, out of touch, a wet blanket-- he’s heard them all and took them in stride. It’s best for a politician to be seen as boring-- so long as they back it up with good policy.

It’s the mention of them that shakes him. “Wil-- they’re gone, Wil, they aren’t-- is he after them? Are they still--?”

Unbidden, his aura reacts; like ink in water, it spreads from his shadowy little corner, sapping every sparkle and hue from the dance floor, from the party goers. The speakers squeal and shriek his static, and the whole place splits in four directions.

Wil eyes him, the only bright spot untouched in the venue, then sighs into a lip trill. “I didn’t know you didn’t know that, yet. Time. Hold on.”

He flips a throwing knife out of nowhere-- his sleeve?-- and without looking, launches it straight into the mirror ball over the dance floor. Glass sprinkles down, and his dancers yelp and scatter to the sides.

“Everybody out! We’re having a conversation, thank you. I’ll see you all at the next one.” With another knife, he jams the breaker next to them, cutting out all the light and interrupting Donna Summer mid-chorus. “Five minutes, next door. Thank you!”

Without skipping a beat, he pops up behind the bar-- behind the curtains-- next to him again, and shoves another ridiculously full cocktail glass into his hand. “Try this! It’s tasty, you’ll like it. Probably. Also it may or may not have been invented yet, but really, that’s not a problem. Research can only go so far and this story’s a year in the making.”

One thing Damien can say for Wil’s rambling these days-- it bewilders him enough to stop his aura from spreading any further. “What?”

“The drink, Damie, keep up.” Wil pulls a notebook from, again, nowhere, and flips through the pages. “Yes… yes, you’re a little early for that info, but frankly I think you need to stop being a sourpuss; the only way you’ll do that is if you actually do what you came for.”

“So-- so they’re out there. He has them?” His head spins with the idea. That could be two birds with one stone; take him out and get them well out of harm’s way. He sets the drink aside and turns on Wil. “Where are they? How do I--”

“Well, I don’t know everything, Damien,” Will huffs, shoving the drink in all its pink glory right back into his hand. “Just whatever is funny and/or cryptic and/or helpful. All that mission stuff is up to you; just get it over with so we can start production. Office rent isn’t cheap, you know.”

It’s not helpful, and it’s barely funny, but his words are certainly cryptic. Damien takes a deep breath through his nose, reeling his aura back in with the exhale-- it’s easier this time. “So you don’t have information. Do you at least have any advice?”

Wil ponders that a moment, or seems to, eyeing him. “Drink,” he says, definitively. “Then, follow your nose.”

At least one of those is easy to follow.

He doesn’t really care for the drink.

--------

Cosmopolitan

50ml/2oz citron vodka

20ml/1oz Cointreau

20ml/1oz lime juice

10ml/0.5oz cranberry cocktail

lime wedge for garnish

Add to a shaker with ice and shake until well-chilled. Strain into chilled cocktail glass and garnish with lime wedge.

Sweet and sour and bright pink; it’s something just right for the dance floor. Let the music move you, but be careful-- this one’s a lot more dangerous than it appears.

#fg writes #wkm fanfiction #wkm fic #the colonel #wkm celine #wkm damien #actor mark #da y/n

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wallbeatjournal · 4 months ago

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JIMIN MENTION. Riverdale characters as BTS members

unfortunately i did workshop this with the army gc and i think i have a proposal. it doesn't totally work because of gender dynamics and the way the universes of corporate-competitive art performance and riverdale aren't really quite aligned, but i think i got somewhere.

RIVERDALE MAINS AS BTS MEMBERS:

jughead = rm / kim namjoon. iconoclast. the lyricist-narrator of the whole deal. the link to the big corporate-bureaucratic metaplot in the sky. a typewriter kind of guy. there are so so so many of him and sometimes they interact. queerbait-complicit and yet sidestepping it.

reggie = jin / kim seokjin. the negotiator. the big-city boyfriend from the hallmark movie. the nation's son-in-law but DID flirt with your grandmother and your dad at the function. fed that mean old man from his bare hand. schemes and scams, less opportunistically than as a vocational calling. second place to karl marx and knows it.

betty = suga / min yoongi. she's resisting her idol image with her gratuitously-edgy secondary persona but she's still your poor little meow meow, your baby. she's alert! she's fractured! her amygdala is working sooo hard. her shadow grows and grows and she's avoiding it she's looking at it she's avoiding it she's looking. don't say tangerine.

veronica = j-hope / jung hoseok. idk it's about perfectionism. it's about how CRYING 👏 DOES 👏 NOT 👏 FIT 👏 WITH 👏 HER 👏 LIFE'S 👏 VIBE. it's about lean-in girlbossism. it's about success not creating psychological safety (but she wants more anyway bc what else is she here to do). she's nice but she's ruthless but she loves you!! and on several tragic levels iykyk: she da bus driver all of a sudden.

kevin = jimin. compulsive joiner. compulsive people-pleaser. compulsive flirt. compulsive. mapplethorpe fanboy. gender outlaw. a smoke-show, now. most likely to charm a late night talk show host. queerbaiter of the cruising-coded-crowd-scene variety. most likely to put it all on the line for a little cabaret ♥

cheryl = v / kim taehyung. questionable art appreciator. questionable painter. questionable self portrait accumulator. high-aesthetic curator of Scenes and Situations. president of gay fanservice (self-appointed). glamorous alien OR reclusive little freak. if the high-aesthetic, melodramatic-literary closet case lament fits.

archie = jungkook. golden boy all-rounder. beefcake-on-display. designated himbo. Wants To Help. will NOT contribute to a conversation so don't even try. gives kind of a sincere wounded baby animal quality at times. queerbait via lore-relevant chime card sponcon (this isn't jarchie but it does make you ask yourself "is charlie puth sort of jugheadcore, if jughead sucked (derogatory) instead of sucking (complimentary)?")

#riverdale #bts #bangtan #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #veronica lodge #min yoongi #archie andrews #park jimin #kim seokjin #betty cooper #jughead jones #kevin keller #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #cheryl blossom #reggie mantle #suga would EAT those ultimate wildcard bars. 'the nightmare from next door' and then one of his little ad lib aggressive 'HUH's after it #gc coined 'namjug' and i really hate that. so thanks anon. you did this to me. namjug #i ruined most of my bts ships i mean 'subunits' (i mean ships) with this btw (rpf is fine if you're silly with it btw. don't @ me)#so please don't take this as a comment on dynamics either on riverdale OR within the extended bts personas / masks / characters universe #the mapping that works the WORST here i think is jin:reggie. jin makes such a point of not taking anything too seriously #he's a little bit of a marilyn about it all. he plays.#and that makes him fundamentally just soooo incompatible with riverdale. where every character takes it SO seriously #just constant ego threat #the least riverdale thing about BTS is that they all kind of pretend not to have families within their celebrity personas #and riverdale is soooo so so very much about parents and parent<>child relationships #riverdale also can't really accommodate aegyo. hence my leaning into grim takes on bts members who are often quite cutesy #like jimin. but i do think the kevin alignment works really well for him outside of that. if you understand we're being gothic #if there's one must-watch video linkout in this post it's probably v singularity. beautiful riff on confessions of a mask. art. camp!

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cssnder · 2 months ago

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I thought you were a DA blog. That's why I followed you. But you talked about gothic and metal and it put me off kinda :/ you're a poser

I am no one to tell you what to do. But I truly believe that you should let go of the need to have a strict aesthetic. You're suffocating yourself in the name of being definable, for the sake of belonging to a community.

I am not a Dark Academia blog for the sole reason that Dark Academia, while being the genre of the novel I write and being one of my visual influences, is not my aesthetic nor a label I want to out myself under.

Well, sure, I do have a personal aesthetic, you could say. But quite frankly, it's almost indefinable. The only thing you could name it is this: Cassander. Simply because it revolves around all my different personal influences: Gothic; Dark Academia; metal and rock music; gothic and german expressionist silent films; maximalism; dark colours; the ugly, the unconventional and the fucked up — think about messy hair, absinthe as a top note in a perfume, washed out walls, clothes that seem to swallow you whole and hide you in the darkness, black blue lipstick for only makeup —, the provocative and the sensual — tattoos hidden in intimate places, garter stockings and latex lingeries, kinky sex —; the morbid and the dark. And, let's be honest here, these are only some of them. There's a whole lot more. And because this is my personal aesthetic — which, at this point, I do not even think of as an aesthetic but simply a visual representation of my own little world and my tastes —, I am free. I am free because there is not pressure to be this or that. I am à la fois indefinable and yet I can only be defined as me. To make it easier for you to understand it, here is a visual representation of my little world. This, I keep on Pinterest. I should probably update it sometime.

So let me tell you more. Most of my hobbies fit the Dark Academia aesthetic, and frankly, so does most of my taste in things. But I love bands like Type O Negative, Architect, Motionless in White, Drowning Pool, and so on, just as much as I love Satie, Debussy, you name it. But guess what? I also listen to pop music. I am into Junji Itō's work, and yes, I believe mangas are a form of art. I am forever in awe of the amount of details in his work and the way he manages to inspire unease and terror. I watch animes and my favourite ones are Monster, Death Note, and Attack on Titan, followed by (oh my God, I think you're going to faint if I say it, are you ready?) My Hero Academia. I love knitwear, I love simple and classic clothing, but I also love bondage wear and leather pieces and clothes with weird shapes and cuts to them. My thing, especially, is layering everything and playing with the overall shape and silhouette of an outfit. I like video games, although I prefer to watch let's plays rather than actually play them so far — Until Dawn, Resident Evil, Cry of Fear, Silent Hill, The Evil Within are some among them. And while the Dark Academia community is into sportive activities such as tennis or polo, I am into weightlifting, boxing and judo. And this is barely the top of the iceberg of my likes and dislikes.

In short, don't tell me what I am, what I can do or what I like. You have no idea, because you're not me. If you're disappointed, unfollow me. It is none of my business. But don't come in my inbox crying because the version of me you made up in your head doesn't actually exist.

#Ask Cassander

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yourlocalabstraction · 1 year ago

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Guys wake up the yourlocalabstraction-ified Heart and Mind designs just dropped

Text translations below!

added annotations that aren’t on the canvas will be italicized

Notes for Mind:

I have a LOT of ideas

Hair has floof but still is angular

Ball jointed

Cane to help w/ inefficient/rusty leg joints. I think it doubles as a cool looking septer too. This isnt fully scrapped, i plan to use this occasionally!! The cane will probably resemble an umbrella and have more sun motifs because yes

A metal petticoat thing would be really neat however idk if i can make it work .__. [spoiler alert, it didnt work]

GENDER ENVY. GENDER. ENVY.

Paint chipped from Juno incident [Juno aimed for his heart. Like that would do anything]

Sun on da back,,,

Mind-coded brush dump [reference the 753356 brush swatches]

This canvas has like 80 layers please send help

Voice modulator is normally covered when he’s around the others. Poor bby

Adding random notes to fill the canvas

Crown goes away towards the end of cacophony, somewhere btw. Light + TWWAY since bro no longer needs to assert dominance. [comes back every reset though ofc]

Can visualize ideas via hologram [inspired by NaraArts in the CJFS]

Him jumpscare

Notes for Heart:

Maybe has a life support thing? (Idk what they’re called). Perhaps bc he’s blind, the lil heart can give him info about his environment. Or it could help him express his emotions (i have no idea what i meant by this. Maybe its like an emotional support creature). Idfk man. Plus its a more unique take ig. Annnnd spoiler alert this whole idea was scrapped. Will it ever come back? We may never know.

Drastic height difference??? (Between him and the life support thing)

Longer, majestic blindfold tails

Thicker hips to contrast Mind’s proportions

No wings, around-back wings, lil but impractical wings, arm wings (i ended up going for arm wings)

W.o. Blindfold: Injury from middle prong (i have realized the correct word is tine. My b) (also when drawing his face in the future I’ll probably draw his injuries more prominent because its more realistic)

Going for more rounded lips

Probably is very self conscious of his face, especially after the trident incident. Poor bby <3

Idea: wing cloak?!? Heart-shaped knot over da heart (this was also scrapped)

Will be continued on another canvas! He needs a fit…

Ngl im struggling a bit. I want something wing-like but im not exactly sure how to portray it .__. All i know is we gotta have rounded shapes + moon symbols ig

I kinda want him to have a more traditional? Classy? Vibe (nvm i went for smth more cozy) to contrast Mind’s industrial aesthetic.

[arrow pointing to my sona] paranoid that seeing 2 billion HMS fan designs has ruined my ability to create a unique interpretation

Side of the leg view: feathery floof

Ourple veins!! (Maybe not this dark tho)

Socks !!

Idea: he stiches (I MISSPELLED THAT FUCK) on patches that represent Whole’s favorite and/or current and/or most prominent memories. Or maybe Mind sews on new ones every Concord once they become besties,,, THE PLATONIC BONDING POTENTIAL AAAA *STIM STIM STIMMMM*

If you read this far, here. (gives you a grilled cheese sandwich)

#its official guys i have THE SILLIEST fan designs in the CCCC fandom #please enjoy your meal #dont worry guys soul is coming up next #chonny jash #cccc #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj heart #cj mind #my art #fan design #character design #taps art

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rawlinacademia · 1 year ago

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Dark Academia Habits to adopt

i might as well just add, HEALTHY dark academia habits to adopt easily and fit right into your schedule if you have one. This beautiful aesthetic has a lot (not all) of creators promoting things solely on the basis of defined aesthetics from media which are tremendously injurious to one's health. Please, please please...don't hurt yourself trying to follow an aesthetic, in the short or long term , we have a ton of examples for demonstartion. And please don't hurt others.

Dark Academia Habits to adopt-

romanticize your eyes and the way you say things. No writers writing about your raven eyes? write a haiku for yourself. Be your own muse!

Read. Read. Read. Don't let the DA community pressurise you into reading just the classics. Read what your heart desires? Fantasy? hell yeah!…thinking of changing your life? Self Help books? Brilliant!

Dark Academia is the aesthetic for people who crave knowledge , for people who would analyse , who want to learn, with head full of philosophies , full of passion for what they do , who are ready to do anything to achive their goals…and most of all for people who wish to be all the things above and more.

Channel your Hermione or Rory or Neil Perry or any fav fictional character into yourself and get to work.. Okay but if someone is channeling Henry Winter …please in a limit guys okay?..

Why scroll on social media sites in your free time. Start a language learning journey..So many apps that give you a game like language learning option to do that! Work on your scrolling addiction and get to work!…

Analyze a snippet of poetry in your free time..not for anyone to show..but purely for your satisfaction.

Get educated, my bro. Learn about philosphers and their qoutes and just drop them in the middle of your convos…I bet you will sound mysterious and learned if not educated, smart and elite.

Drink water out of wine glasses, or coffee mugs or weird things you normally wouldnt. But drink water, keep your skin nice and healthy

Eat good food. meal prep or not but see what is going in you body. That will be responsible for your energy levels.

If you have a plain journal around, WRITE WRITE WRITE…i dont care what you write. poems , letters to your 1945's darling , or to your fictional character or telling your beloved (which you have met or not met) about your day. Dear diary is outdated ha ha… Dear Beloved xyz…who is stopping you from doing this shit?

Pretend you are the main character till you become the main character. Get the desired personality you want your main character to have. Good at public speaking? Hell yeah i will practice in the mirror for hours till i laugh seeing my stupid face mess up. Makes friends easily? For sure, imma hit my colleagues and/or classmates for a chat…or Looks mysterious to strangers? Practice makes things betters …DO IT..

Manners maketh man. Talk politely. Refrain from using crude language.

You dont need expensive clothes to feel dark academic. (who even started that!! )Choose your style, the one which you are more comfortable in and carry yourself gracefully. Walk long halls with your thrifted jacket and torn jeans… there are so many sub genres and division of dark academia… find your type AND AGAIN… healthy ones please

Oh romanticise your major. Who cares if all the posts are about english and languages and literature and philosophies.. STEM dark academia hello!!?! Writing equations and working hard for yourself , to get to that position you wish to be… the only mountain you gotta climb is you…

Be the friend you wish to have. You want a DA friend group in your university . Start doing all the things you wish your friend group did, who knows maybe... Well...we all know your vibe attracts yours tribe..hehe

Watch Dark Academia movies.. Movies that take you to your goal or are you trying to take a break? watch what you wish . Mona Lisa Smile, Dead poets Society , Pride and Prejudice (2005 or any), Little Woman, The Da vinci Code, The Imitation Game, The theory of Everything, SHERLOCK HOLMES oh god.., Sherlock BBC, Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean THE AGE OF ADALINE, Hamlet etc etc etc

Stay fit, read your fav book while taking stairs instead of the elevator/lift. listen to your fav spotify playlist while having a walk. I personaly like to listen to classical workout songs, i dont know which genius decided to compile upbeat classical pieces like that.

They make me feel like the main character while i am cycling or walking around. Whatever gets the work done right?

Decode. Research topics in cryptography, invent your own language and write things in it..leave sticky notes full fo symbols or different letters here and there..

Write Futureme letters to yourself. They are a window for your future self to look back to the time you are in. I usually write letters for myself and post them to my future self in 2024 or 2025 or 2030 or more.. i write in a world war fashion or somedays in my own style. I write to my friends and family members. They are also sorta snippets of my will..idk.. like if you are reading this , and i am dead in your time...then do this this etc . Nice way to look past Death, isn't it?

Utilise your full potential.Don't let your mind even think for a second that i could have done more…Do more.. over learning never hurts, add the Extra to the ordinary.

Stop comparing yourself to others. Others dont have the same life as yours,nor have they had the same circumstances, So focus on your self… let people talk… Focus on yourself, and focus on your progress.

and please rest…Give your body time to heal, soak up your desired light… moonlight is better for me, i despise sun light. Sit in the moonlight , in a park or in your room and just sit.. Relax for god's sake.

Be proud of who you are and never terminate your progress…Be Better! better than who you were last summer or few years back…

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themiddleofthehill · 26 days ago

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The thing about Dark Academia that speaks to me the most, I think, is that it has taught me how I can love myself again. It has taught me to love the little things in life that I wouldn’t otherwise notice, that I wouldn’t otherwise care about.

DA has shown me a style that makes me feel good and pretty and confident; that makes me feel (even if it is just for a little moment) like my life is put together because it looks that way. Even if behind the scenes I’ve never been a bigger mess, even if I’m falling apart physically and mentally and emotionally, I don’t hate how I look in the mirror anymore.

I’ve learned to fall in love with the little things in life, like writing letters for myself, or drinking tea out of thrifted cups, or playing chess with my sister over the phone. I’ve learned to fall in love with reading again, and like I never have before. And not just the popular YA literature I liked before (although I do still love and read those too!) but classic literature, modern literature, poetry, drama, anything I can get my hands on, really.

And I know it’s not “the best course of action” to make every part of your life aesthetic. I know focusing too much on how things look, or whether or not they fit into this “theme” I have going on, can be shallow and unrealistic.

But on some days the only thing I can eat is my DA breakfast. (porridge with banana, honey and cinnamon) Some days the only reason I’ll open the blinds of my window is to complete the aesthetic setting I’ve created in front of it.

#dark academia #da #thoughts #reflections #romantic academia #ramblings

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synthetic-sonata · 2 years ago

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i just consumed so much sparklecare content and made an au of my oc pink . say hi to razzle (b) dazzle(d)! he is now everyone elses problem.

more info under da cut

he's very similar to uni in some ways, and that isn't intentional i've had pink for a WHILE. they would b good friends tho. i gave him mega-sads instead of ultra mega-sads ( normalest sentence ) just to differentiate. Bc i do not want ppl to call him a clone of uni they are very much diff people just with the same sort of outward flavor.

speaking of which he probably has more afflictions i just didnt know how to sparklecare-ify having ADHD and probable BPD. nor did i rlly want to make terms for it. likely has a physical affliction as well before coming to the hospital i just didn't know what to give him

he has two prosthetics! one prosthetic arm, one leg. yes, this obviously means those two limbs were removed from him somehow. most people assume and theorize the staff at sparklecare did this during a surgery, but... pink gets very dodgy about this topic and never answers it in a clear way.

due to him being very sociable and easy to get along with he's friends with most patients . sort of like a Hospital Celebrity. he's known and he's cool and he's chill so ppl like him.

also i'm not sure if it matters but the bro and scatterbrained art is pulled from the official website, which is prob obvious

his favorite holidays are palentines day and kissmas and its obvious. loves anything associated with love and that whole aesthetic.

either has the default rainbow armband or the ITP band ( he's usually pretty compliant .. mostly out of fear. he does and will join or help escape attempts sometimes tho )

sleeps a lot. possibly narcolepsy possibly just not that ( like. napping a lot or depression naps or naps bc hes dissociating and or understimulated. )

more traits that fit him that i couldn't fit in da sheet:

creative

he's often found doodling idly or singing and making music in his spare time. he's expressed a desire to become an idol or an actor in his future. ( referencing how canon pink/razz is an idol robot lol )

sleazy/flirtatious

honestly this one is a give or take but it's a trait he eventually has. he definitely flirts with people often and casually. whether or not he actually sleeps around is a give or take though because i can see it either way, but, probably. he has an Allure to him. and he's. hypersexual so i mean yea.

egotistical/self-absorbed

this one isn't super bad, but he hypes himself up a lot and compliments himself casually. it's mostly to make him feel better about himself... but he does sometimes put other people down in order to put him up. it's always jokingly, at least... mostly, but it can become a problem later down the line. it doesn't feel good to be called lesser to someone!

tech-savvy

he's probably edited videos and audio a lot. and is or wanted to be a streamer/youtuber.

outgoing/extroverted

outgoing and affectionate are sort of hand in hand for pink. although, he has a very high social battery.... somehow, and is always around people or talking to him. he's also pretty impulsive.

affectionate

sometimes overly so. he'll even be affectionate or call people nicknames who he really should be at odds with - this includes staff. he's incredibly chill with most of the staff, or at least seems to be... giving them all nicknames and talking with them as if they were casual friends ( they aren't ). or it's to annoy them. it's not really clear with razz, ever.

presumably, this is a bad way of coping with how shitty people treat him by acting as if they're his friends - or something.

sensitive ( if you told razzy you hated him or smth he'd take it super personally but he'd come off as not offended but he'd think about it way too much. surprisingly he doesn't do this with like threats. he's numb to threats almost entirely )

conflict avoidant ( mostly explained in chill but they prob should be separate things there just wasnt enough space lol )

soda/sweets junkie

juvenile

he casually swears a lot and says a lot of sex jokes or things like that. Very casually, once again.

dissociative

his response to anything traumatic is usually just being really zoned out and dissociative after - due to this people think he doesn't really have a proper response to trauma. he does! people just don't think the zoning out counts as one! he has others, but he tries to hide any other trauma response for when he's alone.

fear of hospitals/medical stuff/etc

surprisingly, this didn't happen after being admitted to sparklecare, but it very much didn't help. goes hand in hand with claustrophobia and a lot of other fears he won't admit to. he's gotten numb over time. it still messes with him badly, but that mostly shows in the form of him dissociating... or in rare cases, having a panic attack. he only really shows emotion when he's in very very bad mental health or alone. at the very least he has people to talk to - if he didn't, he'd likely have completely broken by now.

thats a lot of things and i could probably find more to describe him but yea. He should prob also be more saturated n simplified but ehhhhhh. My oc my funny my silly he gets to slightly bend rules cuz he isnt in the comic its fiiine.

( plus its kinda symbolic of how many people in universe would see pink as surprisingly mentally well-adjusted and fine considering the situation he's in, which reflects in him not being 100% saturated. but he is. it just doesn't show outwardly )

#aria doodlez #sparklecare hospital #sparklecare oc #sparklecare #pink #pink ( oc )#pink ( sparklecare )#eyestrain #eyestrain cw

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birdo-is-here · 4 months ago

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write me do that yes

in which Asmodeus makes a small error

word count: 780~

Asmodeus closed the door gently behind her, going almost agonisingly slow so that the door wouldn’t creak as she shut it. Of course, it still clicked as it latched onto the frame, but she doubted Leviathan would notice that – and there was no preventing that one, anyway.

Leviathan was always an odd one. He was so much larger than Asmodeus was and this room was so cramped, and yet he still seemed to manage this place without a hitch. She had to say it was her one true dream to see how exactly he managed it when his head could barely even fit inside.

The pink demon scanned the room from the door. There were dozens of nautical decor placed meticulously around the place with care; a miniature boat figurine and a ceramic siren on the front desk, a captain’s wheel mounted on the wall next to the window, a fish in a bowl in the corner of the room. The fish wasn’t moving, it may have been dead. To be fair, most things here were dead.

Even the room itself was clearly designed to look like a captain’s quarters. It was rather strange, there were so many pirate motifs and yet Asmodeus had never associated Leviathan with pirates once. Maybe he liked the aesthetic.

There were four lines of shelves on either side of the room, all filled with bottles containing tiny boats filled with water. That was curious. Asmodeus approached the nearest ship in a bottle, picking it off of the shelf. She turned it over in her hands.

The bottle was rather grimy, and the water terribly murky as well. The boat looked quite old and weary, it was a bit of wonder how it was holding together at all. The bottle was completely filled with the water, pretty much turning this sailing ship diorama into more of a shipwreck diorama. Maybe she could…

Asmodeus popped the caulk off the bottle, and tipped the water out onto the ship. The boat was a little too big to fall out, but apparently a human soul wasn’t.

Oh, fuck. Oh. Oh, these bottles were Hells. Whoops. Whoopsies. A daisy popped into her hand. Oopsy. Daisy.

The soul couldn’t exactly be described; it didn’t have an appearance. It was more that Asmodeus could feel the vague outline of it. It appeared to be dissociating a little. Or a lot. Probably understandable, she had no idea how long it had been in there.

She sort of waded in place, momentarily unsure what to do. Maybe this guy would like a change of scenery, she figured, as she reached out and bopped the soul downwards, sending it to her own layer.

Leviathan certainly would have felt all that. Uh oh. Time to find Lucifer.

“LUCIFEERRRRR I GOT A PROBLEMMMM” Asmodeus wailed. She was in the casino layer now; she hadn’t exactly seen the King of Demons yet but, hey, he’s usually here or in one of his mobile casinos. Whatever counts.

“AH?” See? Told you. Lucifer poked his head out from behind a row of slot machines.

“I made an oopsie :(“ Her voice naturally began to turn a much deeper, masculine tone as she spoke; which personally did not suit the general cutsie, infantile vibe she was going for right now, but she’d make do.

“What happen babes?!” The King of Besties fully stepped out from behind the slot machines, approaching the demon with some hustle.

“So. You know how Levi never lets anyone into his rooooom~”

“Yeeeesss~”

“And he said that if he were to catch anyone in his room he’d kill them personalllyyyy~”

“Did you go into his room baby giiiirrrlll~?”

“Mmmaayybeee,,, And I may have also accidentally broken one of his Heeeellllsss,,,,,”

Lucifer quit the bit of matching Asmodeus’ energy, straightening his posture slightly as he brought a hand to his face. He looked skywards, as if thinking. He hummed as well, to sell the charade.

After a moment, he dropped his hand to his hip, shifting his weight as he looked back to her.

“Alright, here’s what you’ll do… You simply. were not there!” He opened his arms in a ‘ta-da!’ gesture.

Asmodeus made an “ooh” noise. “You’re so right! Oh, how could I forget.. I was down here, gambling with you, the entire time..!”

Lucifer clapped his hands together. “Correct, love! Here, I’m even your alibi; We played Poker !” an ace of spades appeared in his hand, “You were never down there, but you’re soo terribly sorry for his loss~”

She nodded earnestly. “Mhm. Mhm. Such a tragic thing, losing one of your Hells.”

“It truly is, darling.”

#birdo babbles #birdo babbles for an extended period of time #angel goober shenanigans #ask to tag #tw animal death

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adridoesstuff · 2 years ago

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Comparing Elisabeth's costumes in the Vienna productions of Elisabeth das musical (Act 1)

And I'm back once again to perhaps prove a point, but mainly to pour out some of the frustration. In this post, I'll be comparing the costumes chronologically worn by Elisabeth in the Vienna productions of Elisabeth: the original/1st revival (designed by Reinhard Heinrich; lower refered to as the Heinrich version) and the 2nd revival/Schönbrunn concert (designed by Yan Tax; lower refered to as the Tax version). The Yan Tax design was first used in the 2001 Essen production, but was later carried over into the 2nd revival Vienna production in 2012 and VBW kept on using it since.

I tried to mainly find higher quality photos of all these costumes, but sometimes, I had no luck in doing that. So, at times, I will use a screenshot because nothing else was available. I mainly tried to look for pictures of the 1st revival (circa 2003-2005) and 2nd revival (circa 2012 - 2013), but I will sometimes use pictures from the original production (1992-1996).

Disclaimer: the contents below are my subjective opinion as a student of set and costume design and I will be mainly looking at what the costume tells me within the context and the construction. If you prefer costumes I don't, your opinion is totaly valid and you're welcome to discuss why you think otherwise in reblogs and comments below. :) After each section, I'll try to sum up which of the costumes I liked better and why.

Little Sisi:

Heinrich version: light blue and white trachten/dirndl with a lace apron, hair bow and ribbon choker. Not only fitting her origin as a Bavarian princess, but also sweet with the pastel colors and the accordingly fluffy, but light construction. The costume is girly, but not hindering when is comes to Sisi climbing trees and other physical activities she mentions she likes.

Tax version: short green/brown/orange plaid print dress. Now, this is a historically plausible costume, but do I like it? Absolutely not. The colors and print are ugly and don't fit Sisi's character in the slightest. And with the way the costume has multiple ruffles and pleats, it just makes it too busy to look at. And the skirt is too fluffy for this point in the show. (And they did Abla absolutely dirty with the wig they gave her in 2022 Schönbrunn)

Which is better? Heinrich version all the way. It's sweet and girly, but not too much and I love that it's a trachten/dirndl. The Tax version is just too busy with the plaid and I don't like the colors.

Bad Ischl:

Heinrich version: Dark blue short-sleeved bodice and skirt, matching hair bow and velvet ribbon long choker and bracelets. This costume is directly inspired by what Elisabeth could have worn during this first meeting in Ischl (when she met Franz, she and all her family were in dark mourning dresses, since they didn't have time to change and unlike Helene, who looked washed out in her dark dress, the dark dress really suited Elisabeth). Another little interesting historical detail I noticed here is the choker, which looks like a ribbon choker Elisabeth was mostly depicted wearing during her engagement to Franz. So, awesome that they kept in these little historical details.

Tax version: Long-sleeved bodice and skirt. Now, I've seen this dress in a ton of different fabrics (white with a broad floral trim on the skirt, blue plaid) but I think the most common variant of this costume is this beige one with the orange-red and green pattern. Now, once again, this is a historically more plausible costume, since the meeting took place during the day and so it would be proper for Elisabeth to be covered up, but it doesn't take into account any of the historical happenings. Which just seems to me like the designer didn't do any background research into Elisabeth specifically. And if we're going on pure aesthetic level alone, this dress is so plain and boring.

Which is better? Once again, Heinrich won this. No question needed. And while we're at it, the colorplay the dark dress on Elisabeth offers in Nichts ist schwer is much better that the light dress (We're about to get into lighting here, because that is also important to consider). With the reddish and blue lights for this scene, the dark dress stands out against that very red Habsburg eagle, but the light dress gets a red/pink wash from the lights, which makes Elisabeth almost visually disappear in that scene (see image below). The entire colorplay in the Tax version is simply off for this scene (because the thing that most stands out to me isn't Elisabeth, it's Franz's VERY green knitted socks).

Wedding dress:

Heinrich version: white satin bodice and skirt with silvery translucent overlay, ruffled bertha collar with beaded fringe and puffed translucent sleeves. The amount of soft texture this dress has under the stage lights is so amazing and I really like the choice of sleeve here, since it does remind me of the puffed sleeves she had on her trachten, but this is like a more grown up version. And since the sleeves are translucent and long, it gives Elisabeth the appearance of not fitting in with the court ladies, who all have short sleeves in opaque fabrics . The silvery contrasts look great and the way that white fringe looks like the fringe on Tod's jacket from the Prolog (thus connecting them visually) is *chef's kiss*.

Tax version: white satin button-up bodice with pagoda sleeves and skirt with striped accents. This dress is giving me a whole lot of nothing. Like, there isn't anything eyecatching here. And it makes Elisabeth look kinda dowdy with how covered up she is. And, if they were going for more "historical accuracy", why then put her in a dress that could be classified as daywear (with the long sleeves and the very prominent buttons in the front) if all of the wedding should be taking place in the evening?

Which is better? Heinrich version. The Tax version is too flat and plain for me. If the Heinrich design is proving anything so far, it's that historical accuracy can easily be beaten out with good and purposeful artistic design.

Nightgown:

Heinrich version: structured white nightgown with a slightly raised waistline, broad lace straps and lace trim. Once again, I love the structure the fabric has, it looks soft and romantic under the stage lights. The straps are so characteristic and they make her arms completely bare, thus making her appear vulnerable when facing Sophie and the ladies in waiting.

Tax version: white satin empire waist nightgown with short puffed sleeves. They literally couldn't have picked a thinner and cheaper looking satin for this costume? It literally looks so flimsy, especially since this costume has no texture and no decoration going on. I think the very high empire waistline is also a rather off choice, since it would be very out of fashion during the 1850s and it is a waist placement that often looks awkward on a lot of people. And there are the sleeves. They are very awkwardly short. Especially on the concert costumes, the sleeves literally look like they have 2 cm of an inseam at best.

Which is better? I think this is no surprise, but Heinrich once again gets it.

Stationen eine Ehe:

Heinrich version: White robe with ruffled lace trimmings, long bell-shaped sleeves and a broad light blue sash at the waist. I always love when I see a good nightrobe on stage and this is no exception. The material is delicate and translucent enough to keep Elisabeth looking very vulnerable in this scene, even though she's covered up. And the amount and placement of ruffling is just right. What I also find very interesting is that sash, because that color is so eyecatching (reminds me of a robin's egg) and it really gives the robe a distinct look.

Tax version: Reddish-pink duochrome satin bodice with fake buttons and pagoda sleeves w/ white puffed undersleeves and a matching skirt worn over a circular hoopskirt. Once again, more historically plausable, but it doesn't offer me anything as a costume. By making Elisabeth's silhouette here the same as Sophie and the ladies in waiting and by not giving the fabric any sort of softening embellishments, it removes this vulnerability she should have here. And I don't get why they went for this weird pink shade, because it makes no storytelling sense. And while we're at it, why did they choose to put her in this braided wig here? In real life portraiture, we don't get Elisabeth depicted with her hair in these braided updos up until the mid 1860s. The Heinrich version cleverly went around this by keeping Elisabeth with long loose curls through Act 1 to emphasize her girlishness and naivity, so when we see her with her hair braided up in the portrait reveal, it's this clear visual breaking point for her, showing us how she matured. But in the Tax version, it's a mess when it comes to wigs.

Which is better? Once again, Heinrich takes the cake. I feel like I might be biased, but I just can't find any rhyme and reason in the Tax costumes so far.

Schatten Hungarian dress:

Heinrich version: black and dark blue striped satin bodice with a fake stomacher and puffed sleeves and skirt with a black lace apron. For how little time this costume gets on stage, it is so crucial in this design, since it is both a visual paralel with Elisabeth's Hungarian coronation gown (but here, the silhouette is less mature and it's like a dark version of that dress), but also, this dress is paralelled again in the Mayerling dresses, since Shatten in Act 1 and Mayerling are paralel scenes, where Death takes away one of Elisabeth's children because of her unadvised decisions.

Tax version: same dress as in Stationen eine Ehe, but over it is worn a red velvet atilla with gold cording and brown fur trim and a matching red velvet hat. The atilla looks decently made and the cording does seem ok. This is a much technically easier way how to do this quick costume change, but it's ok. What I don't like here is the hat. It simply looks awkward witch the placement of where it's sitting and that cord in the front doesn't make it better. And once again, I am missing the paralels!

Which is better? I will probably sound like I'm repeating myself, but Heinrich version wins again. You can never beat good paralels and visual connections in costume design.

Elisabeth, mach auf mein Engel:

Heinrich version: Same robe as during Stationen eine Ehe (but this time with a better picture). Still love it here, because this is still supposed to be a vulnerable moment (especially when Death comes in at the end). So by keeping her in this nightgown, which she previously wore at a vulnerable moment, we have an immediate connection of how she feels.

Tax version: White chiffon robe with elbow length sleeves w/ lace engageants and with a train trimmed with lace ruffles, worn over a long pale pink/peach/orange?? satin slip. And we have a dreaded return of that flimsy satin! The nightgown for the most part looks ok, but another of this production's big issues comes in here and that is a gaping issue on front closing overcostumes. (If you read my 2022 Schönbrunn roast, you might remember how I complained about the massive amount of gaping in the front Der Tod's doctor disguise had). Here, the gaping could have easily been fixed with an added ruffle along the seam.

Which is better? Heinrich once again.

Star dress:

Heinrich version: Cream bodice with gathered tulle overlay, bertha collar trimmed with pearls and 3 tiered tulle ruffle sleeves, matching skirt with draped tulle overlay, tulle sash and pearl necklace. I love how this dress isn't an outright copy of the Winterhalter portrait, but keeps the soft, etherial and dreamy vibe the dress has. This dress looks light as a feather and even if it doesn't outright have stars, it has a light shimmer in the tulle.

Tax version: Cream bodice decorated with tulle overlay w/ gold embroidered stars, with pleated bertha collar, single tier tulle ruffle sleeves, matching skirt, matching star embroidered shawl, white satin gloves and star necklace. I love how this costume looks exactly like the portrait! The design is great, but sometimes, there have been some hiccups with the execution, specifically with balancing the volume of the sleeve in relation to the skirt. The costume below is one of the better ones, but often, the sleeves end up being too big and the skirt too narrow, throwing the proportion off. And sometimes, the costume can end up looking too stiff.

Which is better? Depending on the version. For me, this will be a tie. The better versions of the Tax design are equally as good as the Heinrich versions. However, if I were to take into account some of the stiffer versions of the Tax design, Heinrich would take the win again.

#elisabeth das musical #emperess elisabeth of austria #costume design #costume analysis #I invite everyone to tell me their opinions in tags #part 2 coming soon

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thedemigodoracle · 1 year ago

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Please read:

Ok, so as I jokingly said before “I’m back.” - I’m not joking, I am back.

Not entirely yet but here are some things to wait for in the near future.

Before I list it I need to browse fast through the real life stuff first so bear with:

- one of the reasons I did go missing from art and fandoms in general wasn’t just the ammount of books but also family situations, depression, relationships and in the last few years I lost grandma, grandpa and even my mother to a disease they don’t have it diagnosed yet because it was so rare.

Obvsly took a major hit to my mental health and the ability to write and just have energy kinda left me. I’m handling it I’m in therapy. This is all we need to talk about it.

- it’s been over ten years since some of your fave fics have been updated and while both Clichesbullet on ff.net and thatu on DA will be there and won’t be deleted HERE are what’s to expect:

1. My endgame here is reading the books back and forth again, as well as other source

Material for other fandoms I will

Be publishing for.

-updating the old fan mixes and uploading it to Spotify so it’s more accessible and going back (when possible to art).

- I will use AO3 some new aesthetics and user name (though probably just thatu) and edit a lot more to fit what I believe is better not because the world changed in general but because so

Did I.

Some of the racism and homophobia will still be there are these are the characters having flaws whose arcs weren’t complete but lots of it will also be changed because I’m 34 now I also the world is changed and some stuff just wouldn’t fly and I kinda hate it (but the old material is still there available on the old

Accounts).

- I’m not sure technology will be adapted but some references will here and there and I can clearly deliver something better now that I’ve taught English for over half of my life and am taking a masters degree on translation studies.

- real life will get me too busy sometimes so please I hope you’re excited but I know lots

Of you also have jobs or even families. So leave reviews and keep

Me company but also understand I was bad at updating before even with better time

Management this is will be a ride.

- I’m doing this to prove myself I can do and make good things.

- This site as well as the thatu blog will be updated.

- if you were a follower and have deleted your tumblr or changed usernames please leave a reply with who we were because I’ve had an eventful few years. I remember most of you, but I may need a nudge.

- both my writing and art style have developed and so did my world views - stuff will look different but hopefully still bring you comfort. And laughter.

And tears…?

- there will be some one shots posted focusing on stuff like grown up characters and new knowledge

We now have though the characterization will still follow the book ones as that’s how I kinda got used to it.

- I’m back but I’ll be getting back slowly and posting updates here. Tell ur friends who haven’t been here in a while but used to be part of our group of

Weirdos.

- I missed being a fandom person and hopefully now I can find solace in you guys back again.

- some new fandoms will pop up, as will

Some

Ships (see what I did there? Find solace? Will some ships? Hehe).

-Some extra texts will be added to whatever adaptations I make especially regarding transphobia and HP though I do intend to finish my Hannah/Neville story.

- maybe I’ll write original

Stuff too who knows?

Also, I missed you, spread the word. There’s a brand new old me in town. New ships, new views, new one shots, edits, a very different music taste (actually no I just added more stuff) and a lot of improved knowledge of vocabs and world geography.

Please spread this to whoever you think might be interested. It’s not popularity or anything, I’m trying to get back some pieces of me I lost along the way and writing and drawing used to be FUN and help me make FRIENDS.

I’ll keep u posted once everything is at least remotely ready to go.

And omg you’ll finally know what Silena had on clarisse.

Oh and I’m still not for writing smut but there will be more Adult/Mature like material as some ships require it and I am older. No minors having descriptive s*x

Of course but u know it’d feel weird to talk about these huge ass long relationships and not bring it up naturally.

Anyway, reply to this with whatever. Leave a like or something too but mostly leave a reply so we can start this journey together -

New younger fans are also welcome I’ll make my best to keep this space as safe as possible!! I teach kids and teens and I’d kill for u to have a place to be you safely.

Also there will now be additions on author notes for whether a ship is canon or fanon what I adapted and new fandoms new ships and trigger warnings before sensitive chapters that deal with stuff that before I wouldn’t.

Love, I’ve missed this,

thatu.

#calamity clarisse #Percy Jackson and the olympians #PJatO #leu a #clarisse la rue #Chrisse #thatu

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2dayihaveaheadache · 2 years ago

Text

I glow pink in the night in my room

It's Obikin time again. I know, I wrote another AU yesterday but this draft was just irresistible, I found it in a pile of other drafts and cleaned it, cut the edges, clearing the hidden gem it is. So, enjoy!

A Break in Their Day - David Hettinger American, b. 1946 (insipired a scene in this story)

AU prompt: Obi-Wan is getting divorced, ex-wife Satine (maybe? choose whatever char you think would fit, 'not the most amicalable divorce'-ish), he looses himself in the process, make him miserable, (down bad coping habits, smoking, a night out with Vos, something in that line, nothing too bad, treat him tenderly). So, he drives back home, Xmas-rom con style, (Hallmark-ish but not too cheesy), great reunion with the fam (please single parent Qui-Gon!) and then meets his great love Anakin. Give them some sort of happy end!

(thank my roommate for that prompt, and yes, that is word by word how she sent it to me. She loves her Hallmark romcoms.)

I glow pink in the night in my room.

Obi-Wan lives through the divorce but he loses three things: his condo in Fort Greene, his social circle of the last decade, and their cat – his beautiful, beloved Arfour. He is not thrown out like some stray; Satine isn’t that kind of person and she isn’t heartless, no enfant terrible. He can stay, she offers with a friendly expression, that does not reach her eyes, one hand gripping the other tightly – until he finds himself his own apartment he can stay. She even offers to give him a hand financially.

It is NYC, he adds mentally. It will take ages. Momentarily they can continue in their living situation, spending their evenings together like they used to, like friends before they became a couple – she stresses.

On Wednesday takeout from their favorite Thai around, when both of them run home late, Mango sticky rice, Panang curry, and fake, greasy Wan Tan wrapped in tin foil, which Satine loves with all her heart. Every time Obi-Wan runs over the street to the tiny shop, half past ten, they already know the order, just handing him two steaming plastic bags.

Bucatini Pasta on Friday. The Trattoria da Paolo is a lot more elitist and pretends to be the perfection of every cubist’s dreams. The inside is a cuboid made of white-washed concrete walls and a lot of glass, the former construction metal peeking through the concrete in a sense of beautified industrial style for people like them, that have never seen a factory from the inside but still idealize it from an aesthetic perspective because goddamn, a manufacture-like building can be pleasing to look at if it is designed by a multimillion-dollar architect.

And on Sundays Brunch with Mace and Depa, a befriended married couple, they meet every second week. A social obligation. Nothing quite pleasant.

They will continue as they used to, she says. Dining in the same room as the last fifteen years, drinking Chablis from the same crystal glasses, that were gifted to them over a decade ago, and setting the table with the same china, that Obi-Wan bought when he first moved out as a student, an Ikea snap.

Everything is static. Nothing needs to change; she explains with a soft undertone – just because they have gotten a fucking divorce.

Somehow their friends have taken her side. At least to him, it feels like they have, he thinks bitterly to himself after his second glass of Chablis. They smile at him with their paperwhite teeth like he is the casting director of some toothpaste commercial and then tell him how perfectly he and Satine have fitted together for the last couple of years, a dream team, their Emily Blunt and John Krasinski. Two stars in each other’s orbit, competing who can shine brighter.

Then they wait for Obi-Wan to grin to assure them that everything is all right like it’s his job to do, not the other way around. So, he does, he rubs their backs, puts on his most magnificent grin, and then talks about their amicable parting. No matter what has happened to their wedding band, they are still perfect for each other.

They have always been Satine’s friends, colleagues, or acquaintances, he thinks, whom she collects like pearls on a necklace to complete her image of perfection.

Although she is already perfect, a Wycombe Abbey graduate and human rights advocate for the International Committee of the Red Cross, considered to be one of the people to hold a speech for the UNO this year. The public adores her, what else is left for her to achieve?

And he had been – well, just Obi-Wan, a graduate of a community college, born in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, no prestige legacy awaits him.

She needs space and time to experiment – that is her reasoning when she sends her parent’s lawyers, all armed with Mont Blanc fountain pens. They have gotten married too early, foolishly young – but she will always love him some way, she states with her red lips curved into a soft smile.

The same expression the young girl wore, he once met fifteen years ago. Back then she had leaned over a bar counter in West Harlem, some bar with cheap lush, a glass of whiskey balancing in her hand. Her hair had been chopped off as if she had cut it herself, the bangs seventies styled, which reminded him of Stevie from Fleetwood Mac, and her jeans were decorated with feministic patches, idolizing Simone de Beauvoir, and Margaret Atwood. Absolutely charming.

She had asked him out first, a witty remark on her curved, red lips about his grandpa-like sweater, some snap from a Pittsburgh Vintage store. Then she had drowned her drink and kissed him, open-mouthed like he had been never kissed before. It had felt like he was destined to fall for her.

After the next rendezvous, he found out two more things about her. Firstly, she was always on the run for the next riot on the street, demonstrations for women’s rights, world peace, against capitalism, the elite her parents belonged to, et cetera. Secondly, she never truly lived in present; her mind was already away on the next barricade of some street fight for justice.

Fifteen years, two apartments and one adopted stray cat later, her hair is now cut by a professional once a month, she books online, and the pair of jeans, she usually wore, has been exchanged for a suit, unpayable for a normal wallet, tailored specifically for her, the rebellious phase overcome.

At heart she is still the same young girl, that wanted to see the world burn, fighting against policemen on street riots – that’s what he tells himself when he returns home late and finds her asleep on the kitchen table over some court case, fighting for justice – she has just adapted, matured, become more like her parents, something he would have never guessed back then. But that’s the way of time, isn’t it? He swallows.

Their marriage does only chain them, both of them, she stresses and tries to reach for his hand, almost tenderly, he jerks back. She wants to feel young again, going to modern art exhibitions, buying cheap tickets for movies in arthouse cinemas, illegal star gazing on some rooftop they broke into, dancing through the night to techno music – fucking feeling in love again.

She has fallen out of love with him although she is clever enough to leave that part out, he is sensitive enough to hear it.

So, he signs the papers, takes the Mont Blanc pen from her parent’s lawyers, and sets his name under the document, which seals the fate of his broken heart, biting his lips.

That night he finds a pack of smokes, bought ages ago, probably back in his twenties when he was still a student, half buried under a vintage copy of Stephen King’s The Last Stand, a book Satine hated for its apocalyptic content. He lights himself a smoke and hunches over the railing of the balcony. It had been her fucking idea, the condo in Fort Greene, the balcony, the cat, the entire status quo – and now it will be hers again.

Then why does it hurt so much?

He stares up at the dazzling night sky. The scene could be romantic if it would be shared, perfect for a Hallmark rom-com, he thinks to himself bittersweet. Or it could be painted by some artist of romanticism. Casper David Friedrich. The wanderer over the sea of fog. He nips his cigarette between his lips and breathes in the tobacco. For the next minutes, he only coughs, throat burning, suppressed tears of months streaming down his face.

Nothing so romantic about that.

The next months come, the snow melts on the streets and the first green decorates the trees of Fort Greene. Half a year passes and Satine stays to be right like she always does. No changes happen. It is like Fortuna is Satine’s goddess, her word is law, and luck blossoms along her way – at least to him Satine seems to be happy.

They smile at each other at the evening’s dinner table with stifling Smalltalk about their work. “How was your day?” “Good.” “Nothing stressful?” “Just the usual.”

They smile at their cat when they pet it as if they have not talked about split custody before. They smile at Mace and Depa at their usual Sunday Brunch while eating brioche and French butter from Ladurée Soho. They smile at his parents-in-law at their monthly visit, drinking Tea in a painfully expensive café and talking about how wonderful it is to live in NYC, pretending to be happy even though it hurts deep inside.

They smile at Satine’s charity events; he puts his arm around her shoulder and she gives him her hand. The paparazzi take photos of how perfect they look together. The next morning it is all over the press. The NYC dream team strikes again. The only thing missing is their wedding band, but nobody seems to notice. They see what they want to see.

Satine and him, they do everything the way they normally would, following their strict schedules, Satine fighting in court and him teaching at university. Happy and successful together, a true power couple, everyone is inspired by their achievements.

They attend his annual faculty party and Satine does it perfectly, dressing up in a red slip gown, laughing at his colleagues’ jokes, presenting her public persona of charming Satine, whom everybody adores and makes them tell him how beautiful his wife is – even though she is not his wife anymore. The word slips so carelessly over their tongue, marked by years of practice. Then his colleagues apologize, pad him on the shoulder and say that they still seem happy together.

They are in modern times, you still can be together as a divorced couple, right? Obi-Wan nods and smiles painfully.

They attend his parents in law golden wedding and this time it is his turn to behave perfectly. He wears the tailored suit, Satine picked out for him, and the watch, a Christmas presents he hates for everything it stands for a tedious status symbol but it does its job, making her parents happy. He jokes around with the guests, old-fashioned, sexist jokes, that taste bitter on his tongue. He talks publicly about his research and brags about his Ph.D. from Oxford – just as Satine wishes him to do, flaunting their happy and successful lifestyle into everybody’s faces.

The next morning, he struggles to come out of the bedroom. She sees it, she ignores it. They do not talk about it.

So, all they do is smile, talk, and pretend. They even smile in court like it is a contest, who can smile longer and brighter? Who can persuade more people with their smiles? Who can convince the public better, that they have been fine after the divorce? – it had been a mutual decision after all, hasn’t it?

Each day he applies a new layer to his masquerade of being perfectly fine until he feels like there is nothing else left of him inside the shell – but that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? He feels like wax from a candle, something she has molded more than ever into the perfect husband. As if now that he lost it, he tries more than ever to be him.

His smoking habit becomes worse. He can recognize it on her face, the slightly scrunched nose, and she can smell it on his clothes. He waits for her to ask him to stop. She never does.

So, he smokes on the balcony, a pack a week. He pets his cat, the same kitty she wanted to get. He kisses Arfour on the head, sleeping in the living room with her curled in his lap, afraid of what demons will await him in his bedroom, the empty bed staring at him daunting. Light still lingers under her threshold, he wants to know what she is doing, tell her how he is feeling, and tell her that he is a mess inside. But he does no such thing.

Another half a year later, he resigned from his job, cleans his office at Columbia, bides his colleague goodbye, and packs the cardboard boxes into his Bentley, leaving everything else in the fucking condo in Fort Greene – after all it’s not his anymore, it hasn’t been his for a long time. He toys with the thought of driving back, thumbing the key angrily on the kitchen counter, causing her the same pain, she had done to him. He shakes his head.

A fresh spring wind hauls through NYC when he decides that it is time to drive East.

Driving East means coming home. Oregon. The tiny town of fucking Tatooine.

He does not call Qui-Gon because he can’t stand the tears that will run down his face if he does. He is an emotional wreck and all that is holding him together is clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, feeling the wind on his face from his window as he passes the streets.

Homecoming. He tries the words on his tongue. Homecoming. He has not been home since his last year of high school.

Two days and one night in a cheap motel later, he pulls the Bentley over. His neck is aching from the long drive when he drives past the town sign of Tatooine. He pushes down the brake pedal to look around, noticing the differences between his childhood memories and the present.

Everything is like it used to be: there is still the gas station right behind the town sign decorated with spray paint, where he bought gas for his first junk car, which he had owned with barely over eighteen. Qui-Gon had helped him scrap it together, it was his father’s present for Obi-Wan’s graduation. Just a few meters down Mainstreet there is still the old barn, where he and his friends would meet up, drink their stolen lush, smoke their cigarettes, or kiss and make up for the first time – he can still feel their hopes and dreams clinging to that place.

They had felt on top of the world back then, invincible like only teenagers could, that had not been hurt by the world yet.

And somehow the town has changed too: The old VHS store, always lit by 80s-looking neon lights, is nowhere to be found. Instead, a new convenience store has taken its place, a glass cuboid with a green logo. So, there will be no more borrowing Child’s Play and getting scared to sleep alone at night, Obi-Wan chuckles. No more sneaking into Qui-Gon’s bed and no more midnight peanut butter jelly sandwiches to cheer up his mood. No more sneaking into the adult section as a dare. No more flirting with the cute girl behind the counter and totally embarrassing yourself.

He pushes down the accelerator pedal, ignoring his burning eyes. Old and new puzzled together as he passed the streets and new buildings, a patchwork of memories and slate-grey asphalt. Only a few remnants have been left of his childhood, but what did he expect? Just two blocks until he will reach Qui-Gon’s house. He bit his lip and clenches his hands around the steering wheel.

The town hall has been renovated too, the 70s-style building has become modernized, glass and concrete greeting him as he drives by. The High School is still the same grey cuboid that reeks of purgatory. From the car, he can make out the hockey field and bleachers. At seventeen he spent a good chunk of time there, writing or sketching in his notebook – or secretly watching the team train on the ground, sweaty jerseys clinging to toned upper bodies in summer. His first boy crush had been awkward, unreachable, tinted by anxiety and internalized homophobia, and the end had been misery, crying his eyes out in bed for a week straight. Qui-Gon had been helpless.

He turns his head away and concentrates on the street again. Just a few blocks then he will see Qui-Gon again. Nausea creeps up his gullet. He stops the Bentley in front of his childhood home and lets the engine rev one last time.

The grass lane needs to be mown; he thinks as he watches the house from afar. There is still the apple tree in the garden, where once a swing hung. Qui-Gon had installed it so young Obi-Wan could play outside while he harvested his vegetables in the garden. There are still some of them left, salade, carrots, and Qui-Gon’s favorite herbs. From the street Obi-Wan could recognize a couple of wooden boxes of beehive huts hidden behind the lush green grass, seems like Qui-Gon had started a new hobby, that would fit him.

The white picket fence desperately needs to be colored again but Qui-Gon never really cared or better said, detested the image of a perfect suburb family connected to it, so the crumbling paint fits him better. He had always loved the mood of vintage, the nostalgia clinging to it. The kitchen window is open and some 60s pop is played somewhere in the house, probably a record player. The Zombies, Obi-Wan realizes and smiles softly, a vinyl he gifted his dad.

Obi-Wan steps out of the Bentley and walks the last step towards the door. He rings the bell.

The Qui-Gon, that opens, is different. His long grey hair is tucked away into a low ponytail, held together by a leather band. A few white strands have appeared at his temples and he wears machine-oil-stained jean overalls, that smell as if he has just tinkered in the garage behind the house – but most importantly, he looks at Obi-Wan like only a stranger could, confusion is painted on his face.

The other man clears his throat, hesitantly raising his hands to Obi-Wan’s face as if he wants to touch it, feel the difference, and then jerks back as if he has burned himself, turning away from his son.

“Obi-Wan… God, it must have been ages.” The voice sounds old, strange, and pained like it hasn't been used for ages. Obi-Wan averts his gaze and looks down at his wingtips. The leather is worn out and the stitching needs to be repaired. “Hello, Dad…”

Qui-Gon offers Obi-Wan a cup of tea as they stand silently in the kitchen.

The kettle boils on the gas ring and the older man thumps down two mugs on the kitchen counter, both handmade. The green one is taller than the other and the clay is uneven, shaped by a kid’s hands. Obi-Wan crafted it in kindergarten and Qui-Gon has ever since proudly used it as his go-to tea cup. An old Father’s Day gift. A bright, yellow sun is painted on top of it, stating “Tomorrow the sun will shine” in the cranky handwriting of a preschooler.

Now Qui-Gon hesitates for a moment as he realizes what cup he has pulled out of the shelf. He looks over his shoulder to Obi-Wan, offers a weak smile – almost shy like you would smile at a stranger, not your long-lost son – and then drops the tea bags into the mugs before pouring the hot water over them.

The tea tastes stale, green tea from the convenience store nearby. Nothing compared to the morning brew Obi-Wan buys for himself in NYC Chinatown when he runs the errands. Qui-Gon is not prepared for visitors, he realizes.

The simple green tea, the brown bottles of milk from the farmers around, and the handmade cups. That is how Qui-Gon lives all by himself, austere, like an old man living by himself. He cooks his vegetables from the garden, receives pickles and silver skin onion jars from the neighbors for the winter months, and buys only the necessities from the supermarket around.

“How have you been?”, tries the older man weakly as the silence becomes palpable. He is hunched over the counter and has offered Obi-Wan the only chair in the cramped kitchen. The other one, which used to be there, has disappeared, probably somewhere in the attic or sold. Without Obi-Wan, there had been no use for it. Obi-Wan cringes when he is spoken to.

The older man’s face is turned away, his gaze directed somewhere outside of the kitchen window, the garden, his vegetables, or the apple tree, lovelier things to look at than the stranger, that his son has become. He behaves strangely, not like the Qui-Gon Obi-Wan is used to. He behaves like a man, that has not spoken to a lot of people in the last few years.

“Good.,” Obi-Wan speaks softly, unsure, trying the words on his tongue. No one has asked him how he was feeling since his divorce, they always avoided the topic and pretended as if nothing happened, complimenting his new publication on astrophysics, or going on about how awful New York’s traffic is. Or they offered him their toothpaste commercial smile and rubbed their hands over his back as if he is a little child that you can console with a pad on the head.

As he takes another sip from the mug, he feels Qui-Gon’s eyes on him, calculating his reaction.

“You drive a new car.,” says the other man, averting his eyes again. A quite expensive one is left unspoken. Not the scrap car we built for your graduation. That one is gone too, isn’t it?

“A Bentley.,” Obi-Wan explains, nodding softly. “A wedding gift from my parents-in-law.”

Qui-Gon looks at him for a second, one lip between his teeth. Hurt flashes his expression before his face becomes stoic again, pain hidden in his grey eyes. Then they continue to drink their tea, too many broken promises hauling in the silence between them and no one dares to speak a word.

When the sun is about to set, they step out of the house to load the boxes out of Obi-Wan’s car and store them in the attic. “You can sleep in the garage.”, Qui-Gon explains as he opens the trunk and balances a box filled with books in his shaky arms.

The cardboard rips open and for a second all the books seem to hover in the air before they fall down on the asphalt of the street. All the book spines are exposed. Hemingway, Atwood, Steinbeck, etc. Old Secondhand shop copies from all over the place, Portland, Philly, Seattle, New York – and Tatooine. They are used, dog-eared, and pages filled with notes and drabbles.

“I…”, Qui-Gon stutters and kneels down to pick up a copy of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

The soft cover is broken, and one corner is ripped out but the young James Dean in the 1976’s version is still easily identified, staring dreamingly into the landscape. “You still do love John Steinbeck.”

Obi-Wan only nods and takes the book from Qui-Gon’s hand, cautious to avoid skin-to-skin contact.

He throws it into his cardboard and picks up the other books from the street, averting Qui-Gon’s eyes. John Steinbeck was or still is Qui-Gon’s favorite author.

He stacks the hardcover of Wuthering Heights on top of the Penguin classics from Jane Austen and lines up Nancy Fraser with Margaret Atwood’s The Edible Woman, keeping his hands busy, just to avoid Qui-Gon’s eyes on him.

“You haven’t changed that much.”, exhales Qui-Gon as if he is gasping for air, grabbing blades of grass and ripping them out with his left hand. “You’ve grown a beard to hide your dimples but they are still there.” He clenches his hands into fists, crushing the grass blades. “Sometimes things aren’t as easily erased as we wish them to be.”

Obi-Wan just stares down at the box on his arm

It is filled with remnants of his old life, which he had tried to bury in his office, far away from Satine. Notes, Books, Polaroids, etc, little gifts Qui-Gon had bought for him.

“Still, you are not …”, tries Qui-Gon with a hoarse voice before it breaks off and a sob escapes his lips. He is hunched over the last book in the grass, fidgeting with its pages.

You are not the same as you used to be, Obi-Wan. You are 41, have greying temples, and suddenly wear tweed jackets with elbow patches, a cliché you mocked when you were 16. You have married a woman, I have never even seen and divorced her before I could ever do it. You are a professor at Columbia and not an awkward high school student anymore, who I drove to school with every morning and who stole my wine from the shelf for a night out with friends. You are not 12 anymore and get scared of Child’s Play, so you sneak into my bed at night. You are not 9 anymore and beg me to go to a real hair salon because you are embarrassed about your bowl cut. You are not 7 anymore and hate your tooth gap.

You are not 5 anymore and love playing with your swing at the apple tree – you are not my Obi-Wan anymore.

It pains Obi-Wan’s heart to see the old man so desperately trying to find the right words to express his agony. He kneels too and takes the last book out of Qui-Gon’s hand, carefully, only shortly brushing skin against skin. It is Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, the book Qui-Gon used to read to him when he was a toddler and now the older man is clinging to it as if his life depends on it. Diamond tears running down his wrinkling cheeks, fighting his voice.

“It is fine. Everything is all right. I’ll just take my old room.”, Obi-Wan assures, hesitantly grabbing the older man by his shoulders, and pushing him to his chest, unsure, an embrace of strangers. “I’m here.”

“You will not fit anymore. The bed is too small.”, cries Qui-Gon into the shoulder of his son, all the hardness of the years breaking down. All Obi-Wan can do is murmur a soft “Sorry” into his father’s hair, caressing him gently.

Convenience store sandwiches. Obi-Wan stares down at the plastic-wrapped packages and sighs. Two Rows of tasteless bread, glued together by mayonnaise, that has already diluted into egg and grease again, and sometimes a pitiful lettuce peeking out – if you are lucky.

Still, he is indecisive, letting his hand hover over one of the sandwiches. For some reason, he keeps buying them as if they will taste any different this time. They were his normal midnight snack when everything was closed except for the 24/7 discounter a walk down his street in New York.

In Tatooine, it is not any different. Qui-Gon has fallen asleep in front of the TV, a model from the 90s while watching some Game Show about parents guessing their kid’s lover, a ridiculous concept and yet so close to the truth.

After Qui-Gon’s heavy breathing turned into snores, Obi-Wan picked up a quilt blanket from one of the neatly folded stacks in the living room and put it over Qui-Gon, softly as if Qui-Gon was a child. He lifted his dad’s head, pushed a crocheted pillow underneath it, and kissed his forehead. Then he went to the kitchen to scan the fridge for a possible dinner solution. Except for two jars of pickles and a piece of margarine, it was empty, after a quick search a loaf of bread was found in the kitchen cabinet. He sighed. So, he figured, he could just drive to the new convenience store and buy some dinner while his dad got some well-deserved rest.

An electric bell pings as he crosses the opened door and one look over his shoulder informs him, that he has 20 minutes left to search for groceries before the store will close, fucking Tatooine. He strolls down the aisles, scanning the rows for necessities, a shopping basket dangling from his arm. For a supermarket, that barely measures two rooms, they have an astonishing variety in their alcohol collection. A Limoncello opens it on the top shelf and two steps away a Johnny Walker Black Label is just waiting for someone to take it.

“Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan grabs a beer, pushing it into his shopping basket, before turning around. Smiling through the pain, he thinks, and the next moment shame heats his cheeks.

It takes him only a second to recognize the man behind his back. Towering a few inches over him, still wearing his biker gang leather jacket just like in high school, grinning, is Anakin Skywalker. He still styles his hair in long loose curls, that make him look like a Movie Star from the 80s, though the roots have started to grow grey over the years, his eyes still gleaming with a friendly spirit.

“Kenobi?”, the man asks again, this time with a crooked grin, finger grabbing a beer next to Obi-Wan.

“The one and only.”, Obi-Wan answers. His voice sounds hoarse, embarrassed to be found in the liquor section, and the opposite of content to see an old friend again, so he pushes the basket behind his back.

“How long has it been? Nineteen years? Too many, anyway.”, Anakin grins, grabbing himself a bottle from the shelf, no shame in his action. His eyes roam over the label, before taking another one. “I thought you moved to New York, married a nice chick, and live your best life as a rich man there.”

“How would you know?”

“The press wrote about it, was hard to miss.”, Anakin grins again and raises his hand defeated. Obi-Wan sighs, as if Anakin self-centered Skywalker has read articles about him. At seventeen the man had barely thought about anything else than how to get into other peoples’ pants and his motorbike, why should that suddenly change? They have never been great friends anyway, barely greeting each other when they had met in the hallways. Anakin was two years his junior. Fate had diced them up once at a tedious party, letting them share one deep conversation, nothing more.

“Obi-fucking-Wan Kenobi, ex-president of the science club of Tatooine High, now suddenly an accomplished Physics Prof at Columbia.” Anakin lets his head fall back as laughter shakes his body, curls tangling around his sharp jaw. “We all thought you’re gonna win the Nobel prize one day, turns out we weren’t so far from the truth back then.”

Then he turns to Obi-Wan and his smile broadens. “I’ve got an idea. This lush is shit in here, convenience store shit. Often tried it and it won’t get any better this time, wanna go out for real? For the sake of the good old times.”

What go old times, thinks Obi-Wan. They have been acquaintances, not friends, but he lets himself be dragged out of the supermarket.

Half an hour later they sit in an Irish Pub, Yoda’s, a five-minute walk down Jefferson’s Alley. The area around Jefferson's Alley is a seedy neighborhood with tiny houses, crammed around square shaped backyards, like tenements, and no green can be found. The houses look grey and desolate in the light of the street lamps. It’s where Anakin has grown up, isn’t it?

As a teenager, Obi-Wan often hung around here, cycled around, played baseball in the yards with some other boys, and threw stones at Quinlan's window, a friend of his who had lived around. Now, Quinlan Vos was gone, married, a tattoo artist somewhere in Philly. He should visit him some days, thinks Obi-Wan, and focuses his eyes on his surrounding again.

Anakin and his friend had been rather infamous around here. For hours they would be lying in wait on the lawn in front of houses, spyglasses in their hands, just to catch a glimpse of the white plaid skirts, or rather a glimpse under the skirt of the neighbor’s girls.

The entrance to Yoda's is a staircase to the basement. Well-trod wooden steps and a time-worn railing lead the two down. The interior is filled with a cozy atmosphere, a jukebox plays in the corner, to the right a pool table, and on the left outside the bar counter, behind which stands a grim old man, a pipe in the corner of his mouth. With the deep wrinkles on his face, the man looks like he is over 80, with one carved crutch in his hand, and the other one on his pipe.

“Should I order something for you, my old friend? A Guinness?”, Anakin asks looking at Obi-Wan. He sits down straight at the counter and peels himself out of his leather jacket. It is thrown without caution over some chair nearby. The jacket used to be Skywalker’s treasure, the statement piece that dominated every outfit, his holy grail to impress every girl – or boy.

Obi-Wan only nods, testing the waters, and sits down on one of the barstools. After the grim old man taps two glasses of beer and pushes them over the counter, Quinlan turns to Obi-Wan, grinning, He grabs himself a pint, toasts it to his friend, and drinks off the foam with a deep swig. “So”, he says, wiping the foam from the corner of his mouth with one hand, “How have you been?”

“Comme ci, comme ca.,” Obi-Wan only offers with a small grin, tasting his Guinness, not wanting to dive deeper into the topic.

“Life is a bitch sometimes.”, answers Anakin, “I stayed here, and started taking shifts at Watto’s workshop after my graduation. I am now officially co-owner even though the old man rarely gets his hands dirty nowadays. But what did I expect.” Obi-Wan pads Anakin on the shoulder with the same pads he hates, but what else should he do to console him? He cringes inside at his inability. The other man turns his head to him and states, „You know what, I was jealous of you, all these years. You got to leave this shit hole.”

“There is nothing to be jealous about.”, starts Obi-Wan, “I resigned last week, no longer Prof at Columbia, I’m jobless for the first time since my Ph.D. I said ‘fuck you’ to my friends, moved out of my condo and now sleep in my childhood bedroom. After living in New York for fifteen years, or any other place, you realize that all cities are the same, all the same, shit holes.”

Anakin has laid down his head on the counter, staring at Obi-Wan from the side, one of his curls falling into his forehead, the others framing his sharp countenance. He still has the 80s movie star vibe to him, even nineteen years later with the first few grey strands and wrinkles next to his eyes. “I thought you married a nice, rich chic, living your best life there.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Divorced?” It feels weird to nod now, admitting it for the first time in over a year even though it had happened so long ago. He takes another sip from Guinness. Anakin raises his head again, suddenly stating out of the blue, “Me, too.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow, the heartbreaker fucking Prince Charming is divorced? It does not fit into his view of the world. Back in High School Anakin could have had anybody with one snap of his fingers, how does it come that he is not a happy family man now? “I mean, I married.”, tries the other man, “Everybody else did it when the time came, so I did it, too. Saw Padme again, started a relationship, and proposed when it was reasonable. 9 nine years, that was how long our happiness lasted. I am a father now.” He sighs and taps on the counter to order himself another pint.

“Padme Naberrie?”

“Yes. You graduated together, didn’t you? She was on the top, perfect GPA, and had endless opportunities but she stayed here and went to the Community College. Later, working here at the local hospital. A nice girl with a golden heart, my mom loved her and that is the most important thing to me. Now she is the mother of my twins.” Anakin looks sad when he adds. “Nothing more I could wish for.”

“What happened?”

“I lied to myself and at some point, I could no longer pretend.”, states Anakin vaguely and drowns down his pint. “But what about you? Are you a father?”

“Yes.”, he answers fast without thinking about it. “A daughter – I mean, ehm, my cat.”

He expects Anakin to behave strangely now, be angry or disappointed, to tell him how dare he compare having a cat to having a kid as if it’s the same, but he does no such thing. Instead, Anakin asks softly. “What is her name?” Anakin uses the present form, not the past, not like Obi-Wan has lost her. Somehow Obi-Wan wants to hug him for that.

“Arfour.”

Laughter burst out of Anakin, which shakes his whole body. “You still love that Sci-fi series, don’t you? How was it called again? Star Destroyer? Something with Star.”

“How do you know- ehm, how do you remember?”

“Seriously?” Anakin looks jokingly offended. “Your whole locker was plastered with stickers from it and –“Anakin grins evilly. “I remember you having a crush on the main character. You would doodle pictures of him in your notebook when you would think nobody notice.”

“But you did?”

Suddenly Anakin’s expression shifts back to sad, his lips are pinched, and his eye bags are visible like he has trouble sleeping. “As I said, I was a liar for great parts of my life. The best probably and now it is most often too late to break free with the truth. All it does is getting people hurt who have been comfortable for years, who have settled down and fought for their luck. Who am I to suddenly destroy that because I have decided to speak the truth now?”

“Is that why Padme left you?”

Anakin buries his face in his hands before continuing more silently. “I, ehm, I slept with men during our marriage. Most often I would meet them through my work, I repaired their cars and they flirted with me. Later I would come to visit them in their hotel rooms and they would fucked me like a common whore on the cheap bed or against the shower while Padme set at home caring for the twins. That was what I wanted, no love, just the nagging in my heart to stop, the feeling that I was missing something.”

“She found out?”

Anakin nods. “I’m sorry, I feel ashamed for it. She found out one night, found the texts on my phone, screamed at me, packed the twins, and drove to my mother. I spent that night alone in the living room, asking myself why I was so fucked up as a person, why I could not be like all the others, happily married, a content father, why I always felt like there was missing something, why I was such a liar.”

He pauses, then he continues. “You know what is the worst? She came back the next day, told me she forgave, hugged me, and let me, the bastard, cry on her shoulder. She told me that she understood me, understood why I married her, understood why I always felt absent, understood that I loved her just not like that, and that I had tried my best. She felt sad for me, not for her and her wounds, for me, that I’ve been lying to myself my whole life.”

Anakin orders another pint. “Another one for you too?” Obi-Wan only nods.

Then he leans close, cups Anakin’s cheeks and kisses him like Satine has kissed him all those years ago, open-mouthed with tongue and everything, pouring all the suppressed sadness of the last months into the contact. Anakin responds in the same manner. It is not tender, it is harsh, and demanding, everybody grabbing what they want from the other, Obi-Wan’s hands in Anakin’s locks, and Anakin’s fingers sneaking under Obi-Wan’s grandpa sweater.

It grows messy quickly, threads of salvia connecting their lips, them rutting against each other like teenagers, that found out what their crotch is used for the first time, fabric rubbing against fabric. It is not about Anakin’s coming out, it is not about Obi-Wan’s divorce, and most definitely it is not about finding love in each other. It is about forgetting the pain, the suffering, the agony, freeing the emotions, that were locked inside. It is a happy, sad, angry kiss, with biting, tongue, and sometimes a moment of tenderness, when one of them needs it.

“Your house?”, Obi-Wan asks breathlessly before leaning in again. Anakin nods and grabs Obi-Wan by the hair, forcing their mouths together.

Later, laying in a bed together, Anakin’s arm possessively around Obi-Wan’s waist, they stare at each other in silence, a silent smile on their lips, that Anakin wishes to kiss. It was Obi-Wan’s first time with a man, Anakin noticed it, Obi-Wan sees it in his face, and they choose not to talk about it. Rather, enjoying what they have as long as it last.

As the sun raises, Obi-Wan finds himself in his kitchen again. “How did you sleep?”, asks Qui-Gon, taking a seat on the only chair in the kitchen, his voice high-pitched and still unsure. The old man has wrapped himself in a cardigan, blue and crocheted, the long gray hair is muddled together into a low-bun, yesterday's green cup in his trembling hand.

"Good," says Obi-Wan, turning away from the sink to his father.

Crockery is piled up in front of him, cheap porcelain with kitschy floral patterns. Primroses, which entwine around a single daffodil. Obi-Wan never liked the painted plates, but they have been cheap, a bargain in a Goodwill in Philly and they have been doing their job ever since. Qui-Gon liked the nostalgia he associated with them. Christmas dinner with some stubborn British great-aunt, he had, a Dolores Umbridge-like person from the outside but with a warm heart. So, Obi-Wan tries his best, puts on a crocked grin, one lifted corner, hums, and does the washing-up.

"And the bed still fits? No problems with the mattress?" asks Qui-Gon again. He has lowered his eyes, fiddling with a sleeve of his cardigan, where a hole still needs to be filled. He twirls the yarn thoughtfully between his fingers, furrowed eyebrows, too shy and unsure to look up into his son’s face.

"No problems," says Obi-Wan, leaning against the stove, trying not to think about last night in Anakin’s bed. He turns slightly to his father; his head tilted to the side and tries to smile. It feels convulsive and unnatural, yet he assures in a calm voice, "All right."

"I woke up in the middle of the night," says Qui-Gon, continuing to stare at his hands, which are busy with the cardigan. “You were not there anymore. I thought you might have left again.”

Obi-Wan stops moving, the dishwashing sponge hovering in the air, and the hot water continues to drop down on his skin. He clears his throat, tries to get rid of the bitter taste on his tongue, and lowers the sponge. "I was shopping," he explains and points to the fridge, "I just refilled what you were missing."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon says quietly, almost hoarsely. Again, he lowers his gaze to his hands, which play with a thread. Soon there will not be much left of the cardigan. "You didn't have to do that. I'll get along all by myself. "

"I know, Dad." Obi-Wan shifts back to the sink, his back turned to his father, absently biting his lower lip. “I know you are capable.” His voice is hoarse when he tries to speak again. “I met someone.”

“While you were shopping?”

Obi-Wan nods weakly, trying to hide his face from his dad, unsure of his reaction. “I felt like a liar for a long time in my life, stifling, chained in a corset. That person showed me the way out. I know at my age, finding true love is unlikely and it is not about that, it’s about trying, finally speaking the truth even though it might hurt yourself.” He pauses. “That Person is a man, ehm, his name is Anakin and I would like to introduce you two.”

“I would be honored.”

When he turns around, he can see Qui-Gon smiling, he is still shy, but it has gotten better. They are on the way; they just have to keep trying and fighting. One day, they might be able to smile like they used tp, happy, but it feels daring to say that.

(To be honest, I have soft spot for this Obi-Wan, maybe I come back later and write more for him, grant him some more happiness. It's a draft, will be rewritten someday, maybe more cleaned, made more suitable for Ao3, let's see. Untill then enjoy!)

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