#A reminder that experimentation is necessary (at least for me because otherwise I feel like dishwater)
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2023 Secret Santa for @/kailysander of their character Satan (from their comic Golden Hour)!
#kodasea#own art#2023 art#art#artists on tumblr#digital artist#digital artwork#digital painting#digital art#procreate illustration#procreate art#character art#character illustration#character artwork#not my ocs#kailysander#secret santa art#secret santa#secret santa 2023#satan#lucifer#golden hour comic#Sometimes you have those artworks you look at and wonder how you got there#This is one of them#A reminder that experimentation is necessary (at least for me because otherwise I feel like dishwater)
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the hours pass like molasses
Notes: courtesy of @thisauthorisscreaming, the tentative beginnings of a road trip fic, featuring a recurring fake relationship, Mom Shimura and Dad Torino Co-parenting their Summer Child, and for the sake of readers even though I didn’t put it in (yet), Toshinori doing his goddamn best to wingman his mentors into an actual relationship.
*Post Mr.Shimura’s death and Kotarou’s fostering. Road trip fics are kinda about running away from those problems, right? This particular road trip fics need more travelogue vibes, but I wanted to get the first premise down.
WC: 1,441
//
Yagi Toshinori’s first summer break was not, in fact, spent as a vacation. He begged to assist oshishou and Torino instead, as they ventured all the way to Fukuoka and the cities along the way to investigate cold cases and long-dead leads. Although Torino had scowled (he usually scowled, when Toshinori inserted himself into conversations), he said that Toshinori would be a useful cover.
Oshishou had been aghast. She first tried to tempt Toshinori out of the trip, then she warned him that it was not going to be fun. No beaches, no cool breezes, and oshishou couldn’t promise souvenirs.
“We’re building a profile of All for One, Toshinori-shonen,” said oshishou. “We’re not getting into any fights. This is a low-key work-trip.”
“That’s okay! I want to help, however I can!”
“Let the brat help, Shimura,” Torino intervened. They shared a look, one of those looks that Toshinori longed to understand or at least be a part of in the future, because to him, it seemed like Torino just tilted his head and oshishou folded like a house of cards.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I guess you need to learn how boring stake-outs on the ground can be…”
Toshinori’s guardians had long since signed off on the pro-hero mentorship forms; Isshin waved his hand at Toshinori’s cautious mention of a training trip, and that was that. On the weekend going into summer break, Toshinori packed a duffel bag. He crammed his U.A. gym uniform at the very sides, then waffled back and forth over whether it would be necessary.
He didn’t have an official All Might set of gear yet. The gym uniform was his sturdiest outfit if they did get into scuffles.
Guiltily, Toshinori left the uniform where it was.
When Sunday came, Toshinori picked up his duffel bag and backpack, and he trotted off to the pick-up location, wearing a baseball cap over his hair and a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans. He slowed his pace when he saw the antique, boxy yellow car parked at the entrance. Oshishou sat on the overly-long hood, dressed in civvies, and Torino was leaned against the driver’s door, looking at her. Was that a smile?
“Good morning!” he shouted, picking up the pace. Oshishou turned her head and grinned at the sight of him.
Whatever was pulling at Torino’s mouth, it disappeared in a flash, and Torino had pushed himself off the car and moved to pop open the trunk. Toshinori could see two separate duffel bags: one hot pink, and the other a worn black. His own was navy blue, and slimmer than the others, but there was no sign of their pro-hero gear.
“Sorahiko,” oshishou said in a low voice. She slid off the hood, just as Toshinori got an arm’s length away from the car. Then Torino held up a hand. Toshinori froze.
“Ground rules,” said Torino flatly. Without his domino mask and the opaque white lenses, the murderous intent in his expression was magnified by several degrees. “There is no eating in the car. You will not spill a drop of water in the car. You will not get sick in my car. Clear?”
“Um,” squeaked Toshinori. “Understood, Torino-sensei.”
“It’s okay, Toshinori-shonen, I’ve brought snacks.”
The fierce glare in Torino’s pale brown eyes intensified. Toshinori self-consciously hid half of his face behind his duffel and made a noncommittal sound. In any case, Toshinori was allowed to store his bag in the trunk and climb into the backseat of the two-door car. Experimentally, he tested his leg room by sitting sideways—
“Shoes off the upholstery!” Torino barked upon entering the driver’s seat.
“Take off your shoes and then relax,” oshishou corrected. The anguished look Torino directed at her didn’t budge her stance. “It’s five hours to Kyoto. Let him be.”
“It’s my goddamned car—”
“We could’ve rented,” she reminded him.
In a fit of teenage pique, Toshinori kicked off his shoes and sat sideways with his feet behind Torino. He crossed his arms and glared back, ignoring the pang as Torino glanced at the rearview mirror and snorted. The car rumbled to life and smoothly, Torino got them on the road.
They hadn’t lasted half a minute before oshishou flicked the radio on. Pop music filtered through the speakers, and that soothed Toshinori’s jangled nerves—he was on a road trip! With oshishou and Torino! Cool!—to the point of loosening the tension in his shoulders.
“Hey, Toshinori-shonen, review this.”
A manila folder got passed to Toshinori; he took it carefully, and opened it to see an itinerary and a short profile for… him? His cover story? Civilian, fourteen year old student on summer break, being escorted by family friends back to… various fill-in cities in the south.
“Yamamoto Toshiro,” he tested. He made a face. Weird.
“Toshi-shonen,” oshishou teased him, and Toshinori went pink. “Aw! It’s okay, Toshinori-shonen, I’ll keep to ‘Toshiro-kun.’ How’s that? Better?”
“What about just ‘Toshiro,’” Torino said dryly.
“We’re family friends, I think we have the obligation to treat him with familiarity.”
“T-Toshi-kun works.”
Oshishou startled out of her playful bickering with Torino, and Toshinori shrank into the backseat, regretting every word that slipped his tongue. Too familiar, it was certainly too familiar for what was a master-apprentice relationship.
“Toshi-kun,” she said, thoughtful. “Just for this trip, I think,” and Toshinori wanted to bang his head against what was no doubt a priceless window, “and just ‘Toshinori,’ otherwise.”
A beat of silence, processing with all the speed of a plodding turtle.
“Yes, please,” Toshinori said to his knees, his heart feeling like it had been tenderized and cradled close.
“I’ll stick with ‘brat,’ since that fits my character so well,” Torino threw in unexpectedly. The subsequent banter held between him and oshishou, interspersed with peaceful silences as Toshinori took in the countryside and mountains for the first time, characterized that five hour trip to Kyoto.
Upon reaching the motel on the outskirts of the city, Toshinori was dispatched to claim their reservation. Social anxiety set in as Toshinori nervously approached the counter; the receptionist was popping pink bubblegum.
“Minors can’t buy rooms,” the receptionist snapped.
“I’m—I’m checking in for—for the Yamamotos—”
That was Toshinori’s first fuck-up. He was the only Yamamoto in the group; oshishou had reserved the room under… Oh, what was her pseudonym… At the rising suspicion in the receptionist’s reptilian eyes, Toshinori panicked.
“Sorry! My, my okaa-san, she just adopted me from Tokyo, she reserved the room under Shimura Nanase.”
“Just adopted?”
Damningly, the door opened without Toshinori hearing it, because he was committing his second fuck-up of the day. He gazed right into the receptionist’s eyes and glibly babbled his head off.
“Y-yeah, my okaa-san and otou-san, they finally got the paperwork in, and, and it’s been so long, y’know? Otou-san brought out his fancy car, and drove himself and okaa-san all the way up to Tokyo, and now I’m finally gonna have a home. I still, um, have to file the application to change my name, but I wanna wait until otou-san marries okaa-san, they’re so busy, they wanted to have me at home safe before they even got married—”
“Alright, kid,” the receptionist said, overwhelmed. They directed their next words over Toshinori’s shoulder, and Toshinori felt his stomach drop at the words, “You two adopted a real chattermouth, huh?”
He slowly turned his head to see oshishou and Torino, staring at Toshinori.
Oshishou recovered first. “He’s got a way with words, our Toshi-kun,” she said brightly and came to the counter, ruffling Toshinori’s hair. It was meant to comfort, which was truly a small reassurance once Toshinori peeked again at Torino. The vibes coming off Torino meant that the pro-hero desperately wanted to kick Toshinori’s ass.
‘When’s the wedding?”
“Ahahaha,” said oshishou.
“Next July,” Torino answered, gruffly. He stepped to Toshinori’s other side, and for one insane moment, Toshinori was sandwiched between two of his heroes that he desperately wanted for his parents, oh no. His ears burned, as did his face, and he ducked his head, using the baseball cap visor to shield his eyes.
He tuned back into the conversation when the receptionist sarcastically asked if they truly needed three beds (as oshishou had requested over the phone), or if the two provided were sufficient. Toshinori connected the dots in his head, and his eyes widened at the implication.
“That’ll work out fine,” oshishou said. “Turns out, that, uh, time of month just ended,” she winked conspiratorially. “So we can share beds again!”
“Key. Please,” Torino ground out.
Toshinori prayed that the next few days would not result in his untimely death.
#bnha#nanahiko#yagi toshinori#all might#torino sorahiko#gran torino#shimura nana#shih.txt#d-december#who's panicking more? toss-up between all three#roadtrip!au
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Review: Legacy i·V2 Class D Stereo Amplifier
Legacy iv2 stereo amplifier
The Audiophile Weekend Warrior (TAWW)
TAWW Rating: 5 / 5
Class D power going toe-to-toe with Class A refinement
PROS: Nonexistent noise and distortion; tube-like midrange purity; full tonal balance with stellar bass; effortless power delivery; top to bottom refinement.
CONS: Ever-so-slight reductions in top-end extension, low-level resolution and dynamic life; slight mechanical buzz; binding posts could be nicer.
Class D (a.k.a. switching) amps have been around for decades, but really started to hit the audiophile scene in the early 2000′s. My first experiences around that time were a mixed bag, to say the least. A PS Audio HCA-2 sent my way for review blew its output stage when I powered it up. (In retrospect, my subwoofer setup may have been the culprit.) I wrote a review of the original NuForce integrated amp which, despite some sonic promise, felt like an unfinished product. The $30, battery-powered Sonic Impact "Class T" amp became a budget sensation, beguiling even some SET tube lovers, but its magic quickly ran out if you demanded more than a few watts from it. (The magic also ran out for its chip manufacturer Tripath, which went bankrupt.) And then there was a first-generation Bang & OIufsen ICEPower module, packaged inside an integrated amp by a high-end marque. It sounded pretty bad - dry, grainy, lifeless. How much was due to the ICEPower module vs. the rest of the amp is impossible to say, but it wasn't an auspicious introduction to the technology. Given this checkered past, it's little wonder Class D has been battling a reputation for sonic mediocrity with audiophiles. But new technologies make progress quickly, and the increasing number of rave reviews for the latest and greatest from Hypex, Pascal, ICEPower and others had me wondering... has Class D finally "made it" sonically? My time so far with the ICEPower-based Legacy i·V2 (USD $4,785) has been a pretty convincing yes.
Description
I won’t get into all the history and technical details of ICEpower technology - for that, I recommend this excellent audioXpress article. Of note is that ICEPower, after starting off as an independent subsidiary of Bang & Olufsen, split off into its own entity in 2016. The ICEedge controller chip at the heart of the Legacy amp’s 1200AS modules had been under development for 7 years and represents the latest and greatest iteration of ICEpower’s proprietary technology. It can scale in power from 50 to as many as 7,000 watts, and unlike some of those earlier Class D amps I tried, it has an array of sophisticated control and protection features to ensure smooth, bulletproof operation. In many months with the amp I’ve experienced zero clicks, thumps, signs of oscillation or other hiccups.
A kilowatt of clean power from this one board!
The i·V2 implements the ICEdge 1200AS modules as-is without any bespoke customizations to the circuit. (Note that this is the higher-performance mono 1200AS module, not the less expensive 1200AS2 stereo module that’s much more common.) Some other brands add their own input stage, but Legacy chief Bill Dudleston has opted to keep things stock and simple. You might be wondering, why can't I buy these modules myself then, slap them in a Chinese enclosure from eBay, save thousands of dollars and call it a day? The simple answer is ICEPower only sells them to OEMs, and forbids direct sales to consumers. But Mr. Dudleston also mentioned grounding of the modules as an area of special care, saying they were able to achieve a few dB's of additional noise performance through careful experimentation. At this level of power and performance, the little things matter.
Speaking of enclosures, the i·V2 has an extremely solid all-aluminum chassis with rose gold accent trim and plenty of ventilation around the modules. It's reassuringly hefty at 30lbs/13.6kg, so you wouldn't immediately guess it's a class D amp were it not for the 610W continuous (1000W peak) power rating. There's zero flex anywhere and while I have no idea how sensitive the modules are to vibration, knocking on the chassis gives a satisfyingly dull thud - much superior to anything you'd get on eBay or from lower-priced ICEPower resellers. There's a meter on the front, however this is neither a power meter as on McIntosh, nor a bias meter as on Pass Labs, but a measurement of the available AC power line voltage. There's a small pot on the rear panel to center it, and once calibrated it stays motionless during operation. I'm not really sure of the purpose of it, perhaps to monitor if your power lines are sagging when pulling in excess of the 1200 watts that the i·V2 is capable of delivering. The overall look is nicely done though probably a matter of taste... my wife not-so-affectionately nicknamed the amp "JARVIS" [sic] because the triangular meter reminded her of the yellow mindstone on the forehead of Vision, JARVIS's superhero embodiment in the Avengers movies. In what seems to be the fashion these days, the power/standby switch is located under the front panel, and there's an additional power switch at the AC inlet. One set of very standard 5-way insulated binding posts is provided along with balanced XLR and unbalanced RCA inputs. At this price point, I would have liked nicer posts, e.g. Furutech or WBT Nextgen. Not that there's anything wrong with the provided ones, and perhaps these posts were necessary to meet the extremely high power spec, but they feel decidedly prosaic and less pleasant to turn vs. the now-ubiquitous WBT's. A 12v trigger input rounds out the package.
Can’t get enough of rose gold? The i·V2 has you covered.
Setup
I tested the amp in two very different systems: the main reference rig, consisting of PS Audio DirectStream DAC ($6k), Gryphon Essence preamp ($17k) and Audiovector SR 6 Avantgarde Aretté ($25k) speakers; and a second system with RME ADI-2 DAC ($1200), Pass Labs XP10 preamp ($5k) and Silverline Prelude Plus ($2k). As you can imagine, really critical listening was done with the reference rig, but the second setup helped feel out how l the Legacy worked in a less expensive system. Interconnects are my usual mix of Audience Au24 SX and DH Labs Air Matrix; speaker cables were Audience Au24 SX or Furutech DSS-4.1. With the big rig, the Furutech was an excellent match; in the smaller system I used the Audience. I used only the balanced XLR inputs of the amp, so if your results differ from mine and you're using unbalanced RCA, that may be a factor. My system has been fully balanced for several years now and there's been no looking back.
The i·V2 is somewhat sensitive to the choice of power cord. I say "somewhat" because it certainly won't sound wrong or bad with a given cord, the stock one included, but nuances of its presentation can change - bass response, hall perspective, top end extension and soundstage proportion were the most noticeable aspects. For most of the time I was admittedly lazy and used a trusty Audience powerChord SEi without further thought. One day I finally swapped one of @mgd-taww's proprietary cords and found it to make a nice difference, which warranted some further tinkering. I found the otherwise superlative Furutech DPS-4.1 to not be a great match - it delivered tons of detail and a huge soundstage, but sounded slightly hollow tonally and lost some of the i·V2's endearing smoothness. The Audience Forte F3 (currently $149) was the big surprise - I actually preferred it to the more expensive powerChord. Audience graciously provided me with a set of Forte F3 cords a few years back when they debuted, but I haven't spoken much about them as I hadn't gotten them to click in my system. With most gear, the Forte was lighter, airier, but lacking some substance and transparency vs. the big-brother powerChord SEi. But with the i·V2, the Forte was surprisingly even better balanced and focused than the powerChord, with a more present midrange, more mid-bass punch and a bit more attack and air on the top end. Some systems and ears may still prefer the more laid-back perspective and silkier top end of the powerChord, but I really liked what the Forte did. At such a reasonable price point, it's a no-brainer upgrade over stock.
Direct connection from the RME DAC worked, but a preamp was much preferable.
A quick word about preamps: you need one with this amp. The RME DAC didn't sound particularly good driving the i·V2 directly and greatly benefited from the Pass Labs XP10. Moving up to the Gryphon Essence preamp was even better, and the i·V2 was more than resolving enough to reveal the Gryphon's substantial advantage in musical resolution and extension at the frequency extremes over the Pass Labs. As mentioned, many purveyors of Class D amplifier modules add their own flavor to the sound with an extra input stage (e.g. PS Audio adds a tube input buffer to the Stellar M1200) and this is one interesting way to go, but my preference would probably be to stick with a vanilla but more neutral ICEdge module as in the i·V2, then tune the system with a proper preamp.
Another setup observation: yes, Class D runs extremely cool vs. traditional amps, but they do still generate some heat and I was a bit surprised that the i·V2 always ran slight warm to the touch, similar to the Bryston 4B Cubed. And sure enough, I measured around 58W of power draw at idle - virtually identical to the Class AB Bryston, or an Ayre AX7e integrated for that matter. The big difference is that the i·V2 will deliver the vast majority of its musical power thereafter into the speakers and not the heatsinks, and temperature rose very little even during some heavy listening sessions. It will never get burning hot, but please don't stick it in an enclosed cabinet - as always, ventilation is still required. If you plan to keep the amp in standby, rest assured it draws only around 0.3W, and sound is delivered almost immediately upon power-up. It does require a few minutes to start sounding its best, but certainly warms up much faster than Class A or AB amps that generally require an hour or more to get close to their full potential.
I do wish the binding posts were fancier...
Finally, while the amplifier is absolutely dead quiet through the 92.5dB-efficienty Audiovector speakers, I noticed a slight buzzing sound from the amplifier modules themselves. It wasn't really audible from the listening position, but you could definitely hear it by the equipment rack. It's comparable to the slight buzz from a toroidal transformer that's dealing with a little DC on the power line, but I'm unsure that is the cause here vs. some intrinsic noise from the ICEPower's switching supply. None of my other components are having this issue at the moment, though in fairness, the Gryphons' exceptional quality transformers that are fully potted and enclosed set a benchmark for mechanical quietness. Not a major issue, just mentioning for completeness.
The Sound
Looking back at my listening notes from the first couple hundred hours of the i·V2's time in my system, it was apparent that I really needed to give the amp more time to break in. I should have known better, as my experience with audio gear employing high-speed switching circuits like DACs and Class D amps is they take a very long time to settle in. The DirectStream DAC needed at least 500 hours to sound its best, and despite cranking the Legacy amp into a 4-ohm dummy load for dozens of hours at a time with my break-in playlist, it took a couple hundred more hours before the Legacy started to click in the reference system. The second system is more forgiving and sounded good earlier on, but I'd still make sure to give the amp many, many hours before passing judgement.
Once that was out of the way, listening impressions were consistent and roundly impressive. Among the Legacy's more enviable characteristics: super low distortion; dead-quiet silence; terrific bass response; seemingly endless power on tap; smooth tonality with no discernible coloration; a surprisingly silky treble and full mid-bass; and a relaxed, slightly laid-back perspective that's a bit less immediate than my Class A amps, but still resolving and involving. Let's delve in...
Head to head with the mighty Gryphon Essence
Tonally, the Legacy struck me as slightly mellower than my reference Gryphon Essence, at least with the Audiovector speakers. I hesitate to say the Legacy is "warmer," or the Gryphon is "brighter.” The Legacy, along with the Gryphon or the Bryston 4B Cubed have less overt tonal coloration compared to, say, the Pass XA30.5 (distinctly but not excessively warm), Valvet A4 Mk.II (more forward in the upper midrange) or Ayre AX7e (crisper and lighter). The upper frequencies were very slightly less prominent with the Legacy than the Gryphon, even though I’d never call the Gryphon bright or the Legacy rolled-off. There’s just a little less air in the soundstage, and instruments with strong HF energy like Donald Byrd’s trumpet in “Witchcraft” (Byrd in Hand, Qobuz 16/44) felt slightly curtailed vs. the ultra-open Gryphon. It might have more to do with the amps’ approach to harmonics than their inherent brightness, which I’ll get to later.
The midrange is smooth and balanced, with a purity that's a step above my aural memory of the Pass and Bryston. As with the treble, it has a sense of warmth and silkiness not for what it adds to the signal, but for what it doesn't. It’s so exceptionally free of any audible distortion that even the lovely Valvet sounded a tiny bit grainy and coarse by comparison. Given that I lauded the Valvet for its midrange purity relative to the Bryston 4B3, which in turn I also liked for its midrange quality, that’s saying something.
Class D amps typically have great bass, and the Legacy didn't disappoint. Earlier in the review period, it easily surpassed the Gryphon in weight and punch, making the Gryphon sound slightly anemic on tracks like Billie Eilish's “all the good girls go to hell” (Qobuz 24/44). It was also more neutral and controlled than the Pass while having even more punch. The Gryphon still has more texture, depth and musical resolution with my speakers, and more recently it has retaken the lead in overall bass response for reasons I'm still trying understand. Either the Gryphon has finally fully broken in its enormous bank of supply capacitors, or improvements to other aspects of the system (e.g. a 20A power line) have favored it. Given that many love the bass performance of Pass Labs and the Gryphon is considered world-class in that regard, the Legacy has to be considered superb, with both the power and refinement to satisfy music lovers across a wide spectrum of genres and tastes.
What really stands out about the i·V2 is how it can combine all of the above qualities with over 600 watts of continuous power, yielding a balanced presentation that's utterly composed regardless of volume level or material. The way it scales its refinement beyond ear-splitting levels makes most every traditional amp seem shouty, edgy or strained by comparison. While the Bryston 4B3 sounded better the louder I played it, it wasn't as smooth and detailed; the Pass XA30.5 got a bit lumpy and loose at the limit; the Valvet gets a little edgy and coarse at moderately high levels; and even the mighty Gryphon Essence can get subtly brighter as you ask more power of it. The Legacy is an effortlessly smooth operator, and I certainly didn't have a speaker on hand that could faze it in any way.
Tradeoffs
Resolution of fine detail is where the Class A stalwarts pull away from the Legacy. There’s a few aspects of reproduction where this exhibits: top-end extension, harmonic resolution, very low level detail and soundstaging, which I’ll attempt to detail...
The top-end is what I would call slightly soft. It's not rolled-off, nor did I find it "dark" as I've seen some people call it. It's more that a level of sparkle and sheen that is subtly omitted from the sound. Instruments like cymbals, triangles and trumpets still have realistic tonality, they just feel slightly softer around the edges. This also affects the feeling of harmonic completeness - the highest overtones of woodwinds are somewhat curtailed. This led my oboist wife to comment that the i·V2 made oboists she was personally familiar with sound even smoother and sweeter than real life, whereas the honesty of the Gryphon Essence gave a more realistic representation.
The Valvet A4 Mk.II and certainly the Gryhon Essence, and by aural recollection the Pass XA30.5, also capture a bit more of the ambient signature in a recording - the "hall" sound, the sense of performers in a space. It’s not that the Legacy is very lacking in this respect, but similar to early SACD players, it does still have a touch of the “velvet curtain” effect where below a certain threshold, subtle parts of the signal seem attenuated. This can also makes listening at very low levels a tiny bit muffled. Resolution is still excellent, at least on par with amps around the $5k price point, e.g. the Bryston 4B Cubed. A pair of Benchmark AHB2’s could be interesting competition, but I haven’t heard it, and it doesn’t have anywhere near the current capability of the Legacy.
The last area where I found the Class A amps superior was dynamic contrasts. Despite the Legacy being the most power amplifier I have ever used by a long shot, it actually didn't sound more dynamic at typical volume than the 50 watt Gryphon, or the 55 watt Valvet monoblocks. Sure, it will play much louder than they can, but loudness isn't the same as dynamics. The Gryphon and Valvet both had a bit more life, a bit more contrast in colors... I hate to say it, but more “PRAT.” I'd put the Legacy somewhere between these amps and the Bryston 4B Cubed, which had a greater tendency to flatten dynamic nuances. (Note: my speakers are quite efficient and tame, so I’d imagine this could be a very different story into something significantly under 90dB/watt and/or presenting a tougher load.)
One more caveat to the above observations: it might be more speaker-dependent with the i·V2 than a typical linear amplifier. Interestingly, I found the i·V2 to kind of be the opposite in terms of speaker interactions and tonality to what I usually experience with my systems. The reference Audiovector speakers, with their ruthlessly revealing AMT tweeters and critically balanced tonality tend to be less forgiving of amplifiers than the much more affordable Silverlines with their soft-dome tweeter. However I actually found the i·V2 to bring out just a bit of upper midrange and lower treble prominence with the Silverline (not a bad thing per se), while sounding comparatively mellow with the Audiovectors. Load-dependent performance is a well-known challenge with the Class D topology, and while designers have found increasingly sophisticated means of mitigating it, it is probably still a factor here, albeit a much more nuanced one than in the past. I have to wonder if this variability is why one still hears of such wildly varying opinions of Class D amps... in any case, an audition with your preferred speakers is highly advisable.
Further Musings...
The Legacy i·V2's exceptional performance forced me to check my notions of fidelity. In terms of measured performance, it’s among the best I’ve experienced (along with the Bryston 4B Cubed), and my ears registered its sound as correspondingly pure and distortion-free. Could the Legacy's slightly smoother, less bright and less overtly dimensional perspective actually be more accurate than my other amps? It's been shown (by e.g. Nelson Pass) that some judicious 2nd order harmonic distortion can add a sense of dimensionality to a recording, which explains why tubes can sound so "holographic". In the tube case, I find this to be a euphonic (albeit lovely) deviation from the original recording. The Gryphon Essence is also a soundstaging beast, and while it’s far more neutral than any tube amp I’ve heard, could some of its dimensionality also be additive rather than accurate? Could something similar be said of the i·V2 slightly soft treble - is this actually the absence of distortion that exists in virtually all other systems, including the ones used to master recordings? Listening to a bright pop album, e.g. Dedicated by Carly Rae Jepsen (Qobuz 24/44), the i·V2 was certainly more listenable than the crisper and more sibilant Gryphon. On the other hand, the Gryphon has a bracing immediacy, a feeling of being pulled into the mix and enveloped by the music. The i·V2 by comparison is a little tame, a little reserved, perhaps even a tad muffled. Is that extra dynamic verve and contrast I hear from the Gryphon and other Class A amps real, or an artifact? Which is more accurate?
Because of the infinite number of variables in the recording and playback chain, there's likely no clear-cut answer. While no one buys a Gryphon or Pass Labs for the best specs, there’s no denying that the latest crop of Class D amps are on another level of measured performance from old-school Class A machinery. On the other hand, I do feel the i·V2 subtracts a few things from the signal. How much does that matter to your ears in your system? It's a close enough call that I can imagine circumstances of some preferring the Legacy to the Gryphon. For me personally, while I could happily live with the Legacy, I do inevitably find myself returning to the Gryphon for those extra nuances - the fineness of instrumental textures, the palpability of the soundstage, the dynamic inflections - the things that make hifi more evocative of the real thing.
I recently attended a lovely performance by The Cleveland Orchestra in their summer home, Blossom Music Festival. (Hurray for the return of live concerts!) When I returned home that evening, the Legacy was hooked up in the system. I put on a live recording of the Philadelphia Orchestra - not at all equivalent in venue or performance to what I had just heard, but bear with me - and it struck me that the tonality of the i·V2 was actually quite evocative of the real thing. Live orchestral performances have a ton of energy, and yet they sound so smooth and sweet compared to typical reproduced sound. The i·V2 captured that silkiness to a greater degree than I’ve heard in my system, but was lacking some of the edge and vitality. Switching to the Gryphon gave me more of the excitement of the live event, but tonally it wasn’t quite as spot on. At this point, we’re probably approaching the limits of conventional reproduced sound, so some tradeoff will be necessary. Which one is “better” may depend on your frame of reference. E.g. if you like the neutrality and balance of solid state amps, you'll likely find little missing from the Legacy's presentation; if you favor the tonal color, dynamic verve and larger-than-life presence of tubes, you may find the Legacy a little dull. The very fact that I'm having to finely parse these matters of fidelity and taste is a testament to the overall excellence and refinement of the i·V2. To accomplish that that with 610 watts on tap for under $5k is a significant milestone for Class D technology, and a remarkable feat of engineering.
I must mention the obvious ecological benefits of Class D over Class A - we are drawing literally hundreds fewer watts, we don't need to keep it running or warm it up for extended periods to sound good and we are generating far less waste heat. The electric bill and thus cost of ownership will also be appreciably less. On the flip side, the jury is still out on how long these amps will last, vs. a Gryphon or Pass Labs or Bryston that one can easily imagine humming along for 20+ years. As such, and as is often the case with newer and more commoditized tech, I'd expect resale value to be significantly lower than those marques. Just a couple extra things to consider when you're plunking down a not-inconsiderable amount of money on a piece of kit.
Conclusion
The Legacy i·V2, and Class D amplification more broadly, are emblematic of larger shifts in high-end audio technology. Just as solid state and digital audio took a while to hit their stride and gain legitimacy in the exalted (ok I'll say it, snobby) circles of the high-end, we've hit a point of maturity with Class D where technological sophistication and subjective fidelity can go hand in hand. The fact that I strained my ears comparing the i·V2 to a $24k Class A reference that is far and away the best amplifier I have ever heard in my system is all the proof I needed. For under $5k, the Legacy i·V2 delivers a balance of refinement and power that is unmatched by any conventional amplifier I'm aware of near its price point, and competitive in absolute terms with the better amplifiers under $10k and beyond, regardless of technology. It's a cut above what I heard from the Bryston 4B Cubed, and while I haven't had the Pass Labs XA.8 series in my own room, I would not hesitate to line it up against them. Many may still prefer the more overt musicality of the hot-running Pass behemoths, but my feeling is it'll be more a matter of personal taste or system matching, as opposed to one of absolute fidelity.
I have a few burning questions on my mind now. The first is how Legacy's implementation of the ICEdge 1200AS compares to other ones on the market - could you get similar or even better performance for less? The next one is how does the Legacy/ICEdge stack up against other Class D implementations from Hypex, Purifi, Pascal and others? And finally, I've also heard a lot of wonderful things about the Class H Benchmark AHB-2 from ears I trust. It too is compact, cool-running, superbly specified and relatively affordable, but utilizes a sophisticated implementation of traditional linear amplification technology. I would love to compare and contrast the Legacy with that amp.
In the meantime, I strongly endorse an audition of this amplifier without prejudice. It's a remarkable achievement in amplification - highly recommended!
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Souvenirs We Never Lose Ch. 2
Chapter 2: become our history (1 | 2 | to be continued) (Read on AO3 | FFN)
Summary: The past is never far. Zuko remembers what Katara said about the spirit water. Now there’s a second scar to heal, and Katara’s feelings are more complicated—but if he wants to erase the past, she’s willing to give it a try. She owes him that much, and more. Zutara. Rated T to be safe, probably G though.
Notes: Thanks again to Lexosaurus for beta reading!! And thanks to everyone who left comments/reviews on the first chapter, it means a ton! I’m super happy with how this chapter turned out, so I hope you enjoy! (Also please please let the read more link work this time tumblr hhhh)
XXX
~Reruns all become our history~
It wasn’t a vacation. It had never been a vacation, as much as it felt like one when she didn’t have to cook or wash clothes. She still had plenty to keep her busy. The days passed in a blur of economic discussions, combat training with old acquaintances—still mostly boys, but she was excited to find three girls had been admitted since she’d last visited—and healing practice with Yugoda.
Even though concern for Aang and Toph tickled the back of her mind, it was nice to have this time on her own. Training just for herself and not for the fate of the world was more of a relief than she’d expected.
Of course, Zuko’s request regarding his scars shrouded the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. He hadn’t asked her again since they’d gotten here—he trusted that she would let him know once she had the spirit water—but she felt like she could see the unspoken question every time their eyes met across the council hall.
That was almost the only time she saw him. At this rate, she’d have to get the water on her own, and then wait until the return trip to see if she could actually heal him. Which would work just as well… but felt oddly disappointing.
What had she expected? That she would get to spend this not-vacation just hanging out with him, like old times?
She should’ve known it would be like this. He was the Fire Lord now. She was… well, on a technicality she was an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, but her presence was hardly necessary for the trade negotiations. Zuko made sure she was admitted to the most important meetings anyway. Having travelled the world—even if it was usually from atop Appa rather than by ship—meant she was at least a little bit useful in helping map trade routes.
As much as she appreciated and enjoyed being included, today’s particular meetings had been nothing short of monotonous, and the lunch break couldn’t have come soon enough. Katara picked up a plate of food from the table at the back of the large dining hall and scanned the room for Zuko. He was easy to spot at a round table in the corner. As usual, the seats surrounding him were empty. Outside of the official meetings, no one seemed to know what to do with him, so they left him alone. She couldn’t tell if that was because he was so young to be a leader, or just their wariness of the Fire Lord title.
She took a seat beside him, suppressing a laugh as he tried to peel a frost melon with his bare hands. His fingernails barely made a dent in the fist-sized fruit’s tough white rind.
Finally, taking pity on him, she asked, “You need some help there?”
“What’s wrong with this thing?” He said, finally giving up and dropping the fruit on the smooth ice table. The dull thud startled the delegates seated at the nearest table, though they quickly went back to their own conversation.
“Nothing’s wrong with it. Here.” She held out her open palm, and he handed over the frost melon. “You just have to know the trick.”
Her fingers found the near-invisible crack in its stony rind. With one quick smack against the table, the melon split in half.
“Huh.” He blinked at the now-exposed blue flesh of the fruit. “So the trick’s just to hit it really hard?”
“Not exactly.” She held out the two halves. “They grow underwater. The rind hardens and cracks when it dries.”
“So the trick is just to hit it really hard on the cracks.”
“Pretty much. It’s a good way to let out some frustration if you need to.”
“Believe it or not, that hasn’t been a problem lately.” He cracked a smile and took back the melon.
She could verify that statement first hand. Even though the Water Tribe council mostly ignored Zuko outside of the trade talks, they took him seriously during them. And he responded in kind, speaking confidently with his hands folded tightly behind his back while he discussed coal, oil, and fish prices. Only during these breaks did she sometimes catch him cradling his fist over his middle.
“You’re getting the hang of this whole Fire Lord thing, huh?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d say that. I’ve just been doing what I always do. Working hard, screwing up a lot, and learning from my mistakes. And trust me, there’s been a lot of those. Those first few months…”
He ran his free hand through his hair—or tried to. Apparently he forgot it was in its topknot, and his fingers caught in the tight style. A few strands came loose as he tried to untangle them.
She chuckled and reached up to push them back in place as best she could. As cute as she found his hair like that, he wouldn’t want to look disheveled when the meeting reconvened.
He froze, the unscarred half of his face going red. Oh. She drew back her hand and made a show of picking at her food while he finished fixing his hair. Then she remembered what had prompted him to muss it in the first place.
“Hey, you’ve made it this far and no one’s tried to kill you. I’d call that a success.”
He grimaced.
She put down her chopsticks and gaped at him.
“Wait—have people tried to kill you?”
“Shh.” He scooted closer, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” She lowered her voice to a near-whisper, her hands clenching into fists. “Zuko. I know you’re used to almost dying, but you shouldn’t have to be! That’s not—”
He cupped a hand over her fist. “Look, I know, okay? That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out.”
“Being concerned that my friend could’ve been assassinated is not the same as freaking out.” If he got hurt and she couldn’t heal him because she wasn’t there, if she’d brought him back from the brink of death just to lose him mere months later—
She forced herself to take a deep breath. He was here. He was alive. And he was staring at her, his eyes trying to convey comfort to her when he was the one who could’ve died.
“There have been fewer attempts than Uncle expected,” he said, as if that were actually good news.
“You expected people to try to kill you?”
He shrugged. “It tends to happen around successions. Especially messy ones like this. But most people, even in the Fire Nation, are just glad the war is over. Really. Everything’s fine.”
He made it sound like assassination attempts were an ordinary part of life, not even worth mentioning. Maybe that was true for Fire Nation royalty. She couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to assassinate Ozai, though.
She almost snorted at that. Assassinating Ozai had been the focus of their lives for the past year before the comet. Shorter than that for Zuko, but he’d still been a major part of the plot too. Maybe for him, being on this end of assassination attempts was better.
Then she was sad all over again, because no one should consider being targeted by assassins an improvement.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I trust you. Just… you can tell me about stuff like that, alright? I can’t promise I won’t ‘freak out,’ but I’d feel better knowing than not.”
She would really feel better if she could be there to take out any would-be assassins herself. At least she was here now. Not that she expected any assassins here. The negotiations were going well, and hired killers were taboo in Water Tribe culture. Besides, if Zuko was worried about that, he’d have guards around rather than sitting by himself.
Not that he had the best sense of self-preservation on a regular day.
“Fair enough.” He nodded a little sheepishly. Like he’d only now realized what a big deal it was to almost get killed.
Again.
“Good.” She nodded back, deciding to let it go. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
After a moment of awkward silence, he experimentally bit into blue flesh of the frost melon and made a face.
“Not a fan, huh?” She smiled and took back the other half of his melon.
“It’s not bad,” he insisted, though his furrowed brow said otherwise. “I just didn’t know fruit could be salty.”
He stared down at the melon like it had presented him a particularly difficult math problem. She couldn’t help but laugh a little; it was just too cute.
“What?” He looked up in confusion. A thin trail of salty juice dripped down his lip to his chin.
She felt her face flush and shook her head, biting into her half of the fruit to stop herself from grinning any wider.
“I just missed this, that’s all,” she replied. That was a safe enough thing to say—definitely better than voicing her sudden impulse to wipe the juice from his lip.
“Really?” He looked up at her with his head tilted.
“Of course I did, Zuko. You’re my friend. We’ve all missed you.”
It was true. Even if it wasn’t what she really wished she could say.
“Oh.” His fingernails picked at the frost melon, meticulously separating the blue flesh from the rind. In a low voice, he added, “Right. I’ve missed everyone too.”
Was he… lonely? Katara hadn’t been able to stay in the Fire Nation capital after his lightning wound no longer needed regular healing sessions. There was so much Aang still had to do around the world to establish peace, and he needed her. Going with him had been the logical choice. Still, they tried to visit Zuko from time to time, even if that was less often than she would’ve liked. But even without her and her friends, Zuko had his Uncle.
And Mai, she reminded herself while stabbing a piece of fish a little too forcefully with her chopsticks. She had to be imagining the emotion in Zuko’s voice.
“You have?” She asked anyway.
“Like you said. You’re my friend. Er, all of you are. My friends.” He coughed. “I never had to worry about where I stood with you.”
He pointedly avoided her eyes as his hands continued to shred the pulpy flesh of his melon. Something in his statement felt personal, like an inside joke she’d wasn’t privy to. Only with much less humor.
“Is that something you worry about now?” She asked softly. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who only mentioned the positive in her letters.
“Too often,” he sighed.
He didn’t seem to notice the frost melon juice staining his hand as he pressed it against his torso—over his lightning scar. Blue juice bled onto the silky red fabric, turning it a muddy purple.
“Oh,” he said when it registered, his face turning pink. “I’ve got to stop doing that…”
“What, the Fire Lord ruins good clothes often?” She waved her hand in front of him, and the juice bent out of his robes.
He blinked before smiling in relief. “Thanks. Wouldn’t want to embarrass my babysitters.”
He nodded at the adjacent table, where his advisors and other Fire Nation officials were sitting and looking even more confused about the fruit than Zuko had. One even tried to split open a melon with a fingertip of fire.
“They look pretty occupied.”
His habit of putting his hand over his lighting scar had reminded her of the real reason she was here. As much as she wanted to ask about what was bothering him, they only had so much time together—and she still needed to make good on her promise.
“So... you think you’ll be able to sneak away from them?”
He looked up in surprise.
“Not right now, of course,” she backpedalled quickly. “After I talk to Yugoda. I’ve been training in healing with her in the evenings. I’ll find a way to ask her soon. About… you know.”
She didn’t think anyone else knew about his plan, and though the other Fire Nation officials did look occupied, she didn’t feel right talking about it out loud here. Everyone would know soon enough, though. He couldn’t exactly hide having a giant scar removed from his face. She wondered if he really planned on just showing up to the meetings one morning without it. Knowing him, he probably would.
“Oh. Yeah, I’ll figure out something.” He nodded, picking at his fruit again. It was practically a pile of pulp by now.
“You don’t have to, you know. I can get the water and wait until the trip back. If you’re busy, or—”
“Katara.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I won’t be busy.”
She ignored the tingle running down her spine and nodded slowly.
“If you’re sure, then.”
She hoped he didn’t notice how her own hands trembled as she finished off her half of the melon.
XXX
Black was the wrong color, he thought as he climbed out his second-story window that night. He’d known that, of course, but he was despairingly out of options for inconspicuous attire. Habit was only reason he’d brought his dark clothing at all. And of the other eleven outfits Uncle had forced him to pack, there was no option that would help him blend into the ice and snow.
Of course, Uncle hadn’t known that he intended to sneak down to Katara’s room in the middle of their diplomatic trip. He didn’t even want to be sneaking. He wasn’t sneaking. He just… found his black stealth suit more warm and comfortable than the billowing Fire Lord robes.
Besides, who wanted to climb down the side of a slick building in a cape? It just wasn’t practical.
He shouldn’t have worried though; all of his advisors (babysitters) were long since asleep in the adjoining palace guest rooms. The early northern nightfall had taken its toll on the firebenders. Even the non-benders who didn’t have the instinctive need to rise and fall with the sun were still used to sleeping when it was dark outside.
Of course, Zuko had long since learned how to push through into the moon’s domain.
As he snuck—no, he wasn’t… okay, maybe he was sneaking, just a little—he hoped that Katara wouldn’t mind the late visit. She’d usually stayed up late when they travelled together. Plus she’d wanted to know if he could manage to get away from everyone. This was the easiest way to find out.
Don’t play dumb. That’s a stupid excuse and you know it. His real reason—the question he wanted to ask her—hung heavy in the back of his mind.
Still, even that didn’t warrant the dark clothes, or sneaking out in the middle of the night. It felt right, though. For the first time in months, his breathing seemed to come easier. His inner fire invigorated him as it fought back the harsh cold. The only thing that would make him feel more alive would be the comfortable weight of his daos across his back, or maybe his old Blue Spirit mask over his face.
Agni, Katara had been right—he was feeling nostalgic.
For what? The times when I was on the run? When everyone wanted to kill me? When we still had to worry about defeating my father and Azula?
He was Fire Lord now. The political unrest in the wake of his coronation had settled down, and a whole month had passed without an attempt on his life. Reparations without and rebuilding within the Fire Nation were both going as well as could be expected. The world was at peace. Agni, he even had a girlfriend.
Who would probably have some sharp words to say if she knew he was sneaking towards Katara’s room right now.
His face heated as he realized how it would look. He had nothing to be ashamed of, though; he just needed Katara’s advice.
He pushed thoughts of Mai aside, pulled his dark wrap higher over his face, and crept onward across the courtyard.
The moon shone down brightly, gleaming off the polished ice and leaving precious few shadows to hide in. He didn’t have far to go, though. Katara’s guest house—the traditional Southern Water Tribe Ambassador’s quarters—was just below the courtyard.
He slid down the icy cliff and landed silently on the terrace level below. There wasn’t any reason to avoid the stairs, but if he was going to be sneaking around anyway, he might as well do a thorough job of it.
From there it didn’t take long to reach the small igloo-like structure Katara was staying in. In fact it didn’t take long enough. Doubt itched at him, nudging his hand back towards his sunburst scar. Did he really want to hear the answer to his question? It shouldn’t affect his decision one way or another. The scars were interfering with both his royal and personal life. Everything would be easier with them gone.
Then again, he wasn’t one to do something only because it was easy.
That thought gave him the courage to take a deep breath and knock on Katara’s door.
A second passed. Then a few more. Maybe she was asleep; he hadn’t knocked loudly, just in case. Maybe that was for the best. He’d never actually sought her out at night before. Their only late conversations had been when they both ended up in the kitchen, unable to sleep. Those times had become increasingly frequent over their stay on Ember Island, and even when she’d stayed in the palace to heal him, but that was months ago, and that didn’t mean she would welcome—
The door opened.
Katara blinked blearily a few times before her eyes snapped to his. She wore a long, thick nightgown, and her hair was down, poofing out around her face in rumpled curls. He hadn’t seen it like that since they’d traveled together, on the rare occasions she rolled out of bed late and waved off his offer of morning tea. She was as beautiful now as she’d been then.
And now he knew that she wasn’t dating Aang…
Stop it! That doesn’t mean she likes you!
Even if she did, there was no way she would stay with him, and—that was all completely missing the point, because he was trying to work things out with Mai. She’d gone to prison for him, and forgiven him, and most importantly, she was still there. He couldn’t handle being Fire Lord with no one his age around. He needed her.
And he’d promised not to break up with her.
Agni, he’d made a stupid choice in coming at night. He imagined the moon laughing at his pathetic, traitorous emotions.
“Zuko? What are you...” Katara scanned him head to toe, her eyebrows raising. “Black doesn’t really blend in here, you know.”
He hoped the moon wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the his flushed face. It seemed to glow a little brighter at that thought.
“...I didn’t pack any white,” he mumbled, dodging her gaze. “And I, uh, sorry it’s late, I should’ve asked—”
She grinned and pulled him inside. Woven tapestries adorned the walls, and a pattern of waves in the floor-length rug divided the small kitchen from the bed space. A few polished ice windows let in the gibbous moon’s light. The fire pit in the corner and sconces set into the icy walls were unlit, but somehow the hut was still warm. He hadn’t realized how much energy it had taken to hold his core temperature until he didn’t have to anymore.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep anyway,” she said, though her unmade bed and disheveled hair said otherwise. Her fingers reached up to tame the wayward curls. “I’m sorry, though. I don’t have the spirit water yet. I was going to ask Yugoda tonight, but the healing class went late...”
“Huh? Oh! I—I didn’t think you would. I mean, I didn’t expect you to yet, I... that’s not why I’m here.” He ran a hand through his hair, mostly to stop it from reaching for hers. Agni, trying to talk to her this late was stupid for more reasons than one. But he was running out of time. She might not have the spirit water now, but she would soon. And then she’d expect him to make his decision—or rather, to go through with the decision he’d already made. The decision he’d been so sure was right, was necessary, until…
Until he’d realized just how complicated his feelings still were.
“You’re not?” She asked in confusion. “Then why… um…”
“I just wanted to talk to you.” That probably wasn’t a good enough reason to invade someone’s house in the middle of the night. It was the truth, though—he’d never been able to lie to her. Now he just needed to ask his question before any worse truths came out.
“You snuck out of the palace at night… just to talk to me?” Her lips curved towards a grin.
He felt his face flush again and winced. So much for not revealing anything else.
“Well not just to talk to you, I mean, you wanted to know if I could sneak out. So. I can.”
Did that sound better or worse? She frowned as her fingers caught in her hair, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of what he said or just from the tangle.
“Oh. That’s good, then.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Um. It’s kind of dark in here, do you mind…”
He lit the lamps in the wall sconces before she could finish. Warm light swept over them, seeming to wash the stiffness out of Katara’s posture.
“Thanks.” She smiled, and he hid a sigh of relief. She hadn’t told him he was being stupid, or to go back to the palace before someone noticed he was gone. She was letting him stay. He’d get to ask her.
His stomach clenched at that realization, and his hand instinctively found his scar again.
“Are you… does it hurt?” Katara asked softly. Her hand twitched towards him.
“Does it hurt?”
He flinched away at the memory of Mai’s words. The spark that had brought him to this decision.
“I’m sorry.” Her arm quickly curled back to her chest, as if his response had burned her.
“No, it’s—it doesn’t hurt.” His hand stayed pressed against it anyway.
“Not anymore. She did a fantastic job.”
“Are you sure? I could… I mean, I don’t have the spirit water, but I know Aang’s lightning wound still acts up sometimes, and regular healing can help the pain.”
The offer was tempting, but for all the wrong reasons. He could only imagine what Mai would think if she could see him now, considering taking off his shirt in a different girl’s room.
He shook his head quickly. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t buy it. He was telling the truth though—the kind of hurt he clung to couldn’t be healed with waterbending.
A rebellious part of him thought it might still be healed with her hands.
“At least have some tea.” She was already moving to the small fire pit in the corner of the room.
“Alright.” He smiled a little and followed her, crouching down to light the fire before she could ask.
“You’re going to spoil me, doing that.” She chuckled as she bent the water from her waterskin into the kettle.
“What do you mean? You asked me to light the torches. Besides, I used to start the cookfire all the time.”
“I know. It took me almost a month to get used to doing it myself again.” She set the kettle on the grate above the flames.
He suppressed the fire from a bright yellow blaze to a gentle orange, the way Uncle had taught him so the water wouldn’t heat too quickly and spoil the tea’s flavor.
He shrugged. “Sounds like I should make up for lost time, then.”
“I guess it is kind of cool to have the Fire Lord performing menial labor for me.”
The return to her humor was a relief. Teasing was easier to handle than sympathy.
He flexed his fingers over the fire and deadpanned, “We’ll see if my delicate royal hands will be able to handle it.”
“Well, don’t overexert yourself.”
They fell into comfortable conversation while the water heated, and for at least those few moments, it really was like old times. The tension bled out of him, evaporated in the smell of charcoal, the warmth of the crackling flames, the cadence of Katara’s laugh. He knew he still needed to ask his question, but a selfish part of him wanted to just enjoy the peaceful moment. To enjoy being with her.
He was enjoying this. That was dangerous. Disasters usually followed moments like these.
“Zuko?” Her hand on his shoulder snapped him from those thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said reflexively. He wasn’t ready for her sympathy, wasn’t ready to see her sad because of him again. So even though he should’ve used it as a chance to ask his question, a different one came out. “How are your combat lessons going?”
“They’re going fine, I guess. It’s nice to have other waterbenders to train against, but I’ve mastered the Northern Style of waterbending already.” She shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that she was a Master at age fifteen. It seemed he was destined to always be surrounded by prodigies.
“I’ve actually been working on developing some new techniques.” She scooted closer to the flames. And to him, technically, but he assumed that was just a side-effect. “You know that move you always use when you get knocked down? Where you do the spinny thing with your legs?”
She twirled a finger in the air, and he rolled his eyes. Spinny thing. Well, it wasn’t as bad as being teased for the Dancing Dragon, he guessed.
“Of course I do. I invented that move.” Rolling across the ground, transferring the momentum of a fall to his windmilling legs, releasing a whirlwind of fire to cover him as he regained his stance—the exact way he used it varied depending on the circumstance, but the maneuver had been one of his favorites ever since he’d used an early version of it against Zhao.
“Really?” She blinked. “Actually, that explains a lot. I always thought it looked different from other firebending moves. That’s why I tried to adapt it to waterbending.”
“You’re kidding.” He gave her a disbelieving look. “You haven’t seen me use it in ages.”
“Yeah, well, I— it might not be the same move, exactly. It was more like, you know, an inspiration.”
“Sounds more like stealing to me.” He smirked. Inspiration, stealing—either way, she’d thought about him. That felt like some kind of victory. If one in a game he shouldn’t be playing.
“Oh yeah, like how you stole my water whips?” She raised her eyebrows. “Or the wave form?”
“That’s different. Those moves already existed; I created this firebending technique on my own.”
It had taken a lot of practice—and even more falls—to make it work. Maybe she was right about it being more suited for waterbending; that could explain why perfecting it had been so difficult. The effort had been worth it, though. The move had been one of the few advantages he’d had against the more traditional firebending style, which didn’t provide any way to recover after being knocked down.
“Hmm. Did you name it then?”
He snorted. “No.”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Should it have? No, that was something he could imagine his father doing. He would’ve come up with a ridiculous name like “Ozai’s Phoenix” or something.
“That’s too bad. I’ve been calling it the Spinny Fire Fall Kick in my head, but that doesn’t have a great ring to it.” She rubbed her chin before giving him a sly look. “Then again, if you haven’t named your move yet, then I could name it first.”
He choked a little. “We are not calling it the… what did you say?”
“Spinny Fire Fall Kick.” She grinned. “Though I guess mine would be the Spinny Water Fall Kick. Actually, Waterfall Kick isn’t such a bad idea...”
“And here I thought only Sokka came up with the terrible names.” He groaned and leaned back on his hands. Still, he couldn’t completely hide the smile on his lips.
“I’ve had to pick up the slack since he’s been gone. Besides, I’d like to see you come up with something better.”
“I will. As soon as I see you pull that move off.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Her smug look sent static up his spine. But before he could reply, the kettle started screeching.
Katara jumped to take it off the fire and then muttered at it under her breath. “I should’ve taken it off sooner. I can cool it with my bending, but boiled water still never tastes as good.”
“It’s not your fault, I should’ve been keeping an eye on the fire.” He held the teapot while she poured in the hot water. “Either way, I probably won’t notice.”
After searching for a moment, she found a pouch of lavender petals near her bed and returned to crumble them into the pot. “Didn’t you work in a tea shop, though? And your tea was always pretty good.”
It was? Uncle said he’d improved after their time in Ba Sing Se, but Zuko had thought he was just trying to spare his feelings after he’d struggled for so long. He smiled a little at the compliment.
“Uncle taught me how to make tea properly, but I still can’t taste a difference. It’s all hot leaf juice, more or less.”
“Hang on. You make the best tea and you can’t even tell?”
“So my tea’s the best now?” His smile widened. Katara didn’t pass out compliments easily—at least, she never had to him.
“Oh, don’t go getting a big head about it.” She rolled her eyes. Firelight flickered over her face, giving her cheeks the impression of a blush. “You’re probably out of practice by now, anyway.”
“You’d be surprised.”
He might not appreciate the taste of tea, but brewing it was soothing, in a strange way. Maybe it was just another of his nostalgic hobbies—if one with less potentially-dangerous consequences than running around on rooftops. The warm herbal scents always brought him welcome comfort when Uncle had to travel on political business. Brewing tea also doubled as a firebending control and meditation exercise, which helped during the moments when he wanted to light his paperwork on fire and chuck it out a window.
Of course, the calming effect hadn’t helped him during the one disastrous time he’d tried to show off his tea-making skills to Mai.
“You don’t have to pretend to be a peasant anymore, Zuko. Just let the servants do it. That’s their job.”
“It’s not like that, Mai. I want to do it. Uncle taught me how when we were in Ba Sing Se—”
“Pretending to be peasants.”
“Those peasants are good people! They’re proud and strong, and they deserve our respect.”
“Are you serious? This isn’t a public address, Zuko. You don’t have to pretend you care about them.”
“I’m not—ugh, forget it!”
He didn’t realize his hand had found his scar—again—until Katara passed him a steaming teacup. If she noticed his action, she didn’t point it out.
The warm vapor curling from the cup loosened the tightness in his throat. What had they been talking about? Oh, right. Tea.
“Your tea’s good too,” he said belatedly.
She snorted and shook her head before pouring her own cup. “You just said all tea tastes like hot leaf juice.”
“Yeah— err…” He covered his stammering with a sip and nearly choked when it burned his tongue. “It’s—uh, good leaf juice.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” She smiled and chilled her tea with a breath.
“Um… do you mind doing mine too?” He asked, holding out his cup with a sheepish smile.
“You mean the firebender doesn’t want it scalding hot?”
“This firebender’s had enough burns, thanks.” He meant it to be a joke, but his voice came out too somber.
Her eyes flickered to his left eye, then his middle. He fought the urge to protect that spot—it wasn’t like she could see the scar through his black clothes, and even if she could, she’d seen it plenty of times before while healing him.
“Of course.” She exhaled over his cup, accidentally covering his knuckles in frost as well. He shivered before taking a sip.
Too cold. At least that was a problem he could fix. Katara’s downcast silence, on the other hand, might not be.
Nice going. Zuko wanted to groan. For these last few moments, he’d felt… right. For once. Like he belonged here, sitting on her floor, talking about nothing and drinking tea. For those moments, he didn’t have to be the Fire Lord. He didn’t have to be the perfect boyfriend. He didn’t have to be anything—except himself.
But he’d known it wouldn’t last. Things that made him happy generally didn’t.
Well, at least he didn’t have anything to lose by asking his question now.
He cleared his throat. “Katara?”
“Yeah?” She asked quickly, meeting his eyes over her teacup.
Don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair. The reflection of flames danced in her blue irises. It would be difficult to toe the line between telling her enough to help him with his question, and not telling her so much that she uncovered his real motivation for asking.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” He hoped his desperation didn’t show through his voice. “Getting rid of my scars, I mean.”
There. It was out. Maybe it was a stupid question—it felt stupid, now that he said it out loud—but he needed to know. He certainly had enough reasons to want them gone, but part of him—the same part that liked sneaking out in black clothes and brewing his own tea—felt an attachment to the blemishes on his skin. It was too complicated to sort out in his head, but talking it out with her might help him decide. She’d helped him gain the courage to apologize to Uncle. He believed she’d have similar wisdom again.
His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her reply.
“...Do you not want to get rid of them?”
“I do. I did. I don’t know.” He covered his middle with one hand, the other gripping his teacup so tightly it could crack. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, if you want to get it off your mind, I’m here,” she prodded gently.
“Are you sure? It’s complicated. It might take a while.”
“Of course I’m sure, Zuko. That’s why I offered.” Her tone was light, but her smile sincere.
He inhaled shakily. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Katara wasn’t the type to tell him to shut up, but he still wasn’t used to anyone besides Uncle caring about what he had to say. Unless what he said was a Fire Lord order, of course, but that didn’t count.
“Right.” He took a sip of tea to collect himself. “I told you how I got the scar on my face. I used to think it marked me—but you know that.”
Another gulp of tea. She knew all this. He was just going to bore her, going over it again. He should have gotten over it by now. After four years, he was still just weak, pathetic—
Her hand was covering his over the teacup. It wasn’t until then that he realized he was shaking. A few drops of tea had fallen on his dark pants. He hadn’t felt it.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“It’s not okay.” His voice came out too harsh, but her hand just tightened over his. “I’ve chosen my own destiny. My father’s in prison, and Azula’s getting help for her… condition. I’m not in their shadow anymore. I can fix the terrible things we’ve done. But this scar…” He shook his head. “People look at it, and they don’t see what it means to me. All they see is a weak, disfigured boy trying to fix a weak disfigured nation.”
“Zuko, no one—”
“You haven’t seen it! It’s even worse here, everyone stares! I can tell they’re thinking it. How am I supposed to represent my country when people take one look at me and think I’m—I’m disgusting?”
His voice cracked on that last word. His eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t so bad, usually. People in the palace knew better than to stare. But foreign nobles and ambassadors, his own citizens, and the Water Tribe—they didn’t. Wide eyes and barely-veiled gasps often were their first reactions.
Deep down he wondered if that was why the Tribe didn’t speak to him much outside of the trade negotiations.
“Zuko.” Katara squeezed his arm.
His trembling hand splashed more tea into his lap, but he barely noticed. Her stare pinned him as easily as her ice needles could have.
“You are not weak. You’re not disgusting, either, I can’t believe you would—” She shook her head, and her gaze softened. “My point is… you don’t deserve that. Scar or no scar, you’re…”
His heart sank as she trailed off. If even Katara, the one person who could both scare him senseless and tell him exactly what he needed to hear, couldn’t think of something positive to say about him, then he was even worse off than he’d thought.
But it didn’t matter. He was here for advice, not sympathy. He was just about to shrug it off when her voice came warm and clear.
“...you’re the strongest person I know.”
He blinked. Had he heard that right? No. Aang had defeated his father; that by definition made him the strongest person she knew. Besides herself.
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Katara. I just—”
“What, you really think I’d lie to make you feel better? Can’t you just trust me and take the compliment for once?”
This time he wasn’t sure the fire in her eyes was just a reflection. He wasn’t sure whether to feel afraid or touched.
“Sorry. I’m not used to it, I guess… but thanks.” He swallowed another gulp of tea, then busied himself refilling his cup. Hopefully that would keep her from seeing the redness in his face.
“No, wait, I’m sorry.”
He looked up at the sound of her sigh. Her eyes remained downcast, staring at her frosted tea.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I do want you to feel better, but I… this must be bothering you more than I know. I can’t fix that with words, and it just makes me…” She trailed off as ice began to crystalize through her cup again. “It’s no excuse, though.”
“No, I get it.” He lit a fire in his palm and held it near her tea until the ice thawed. “Sorry I yelled, too.”
She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t have to listen to him at all, but here she was, letting him ramble about his problems when she could be sleeping. She was a better friend than he deserved.
“I know there’s nothing you can say, and I don’t expect you to. My scar will always make me look different. People don’t like you when you’re different.”
She frowned down into her still-full cup. “...I can understand that. That doesn’t make them right, though.”
Maybe it didn’t, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt.
“There’s other reasons I should get rid of it, too. My sight and hearing aren’t as good on my left side. Every once in a while the skin still itches, especially when I’m in dry places.”
“Even after all this time?” She looked up, her brows turned upward.
“I didn’t have a waterbending healer like you to fix it. There’s only so much regular medicine could do.” He shrugged. “Anyway. I’ve got a lot of reasons to want it gone.”
“But… you have some reasons for wanting to keep it too?” She picked up on what he left unsaid.
“...Yeah. I do.” He brushed his fingers over his older scar. The rough skin felt right to his touch by now. He wasn’t sure what his face would feel like without it.
Actually, he feared that he did.
“I don’t want to look like…” He grimaced. “You know. You mistook his baby picture for me. That’s not the only time we looked similar.”
Katara blinked before catching on. “You mean… oh.”
“Yeah,” he said before she could study him. Look for any traces of Ozai in his face.
Logically, he knew that she’d never seen Ozai in person. She wouldn’t be able to tell one way or another. Somehow, that was comforting.
“That’s not the only reason. The other reason, though… it might sound kind of stupid.” His thumb traced the etchings on his teacup. “I got this scar right before I was banished. Looking back, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like if I erase this scar, it’s like saying I regret everything that happened since then. Like I’d just be going back to the person I was before.”
He took a long drink. The tea was already cold again, but he didn’t bother warming it.
“Zuko… I don’t think that’s stupid at all. It’s… kind of sweet, actually.”
He choked on his tea. When he looked up, Katara was smiling softly again.
“Sweet?”
“You know what I mean.” She drained her cup in one gulp and refilled it by bending a stream out of the teapot. “It reminds you of who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Something in his stomach unclenched at that. It didn’t really help, though—she’d validated both his reasons for wanting to keep and to get rid of the facial scar.
“How can you say that? I brought you all the way here to get rid of my scars, and now I’m telling you I might have wasted your time.”
“No, you haven’t. I’m still glad I came, whether you want me to heal you or not. Like I said before, I needed the vacation, remember?”
“It’s not a vacation. Technically.”
She shrugged. “We’re staying up late and I’m not doing anyone’s laundry. Feels like a vacation to me.”
“It is getting late, isn’t it…” He frowned at the moon through the window. It had been too easy to ignore how limited their time was.
“Hey. Don’t change the subject.” She nudged him gently. “You were on a roll there.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile. Of course she wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.
“You changed it first, talking about vacations. But anyway. I still don’t know what I’m going to do.” He sighed over his tea, which had the welcome side effect of reheating it. “I don’t want you to ask for the water for nothing.”
“Even if you don’t want me to use it, it wouldn’t hurt to have some in case of an emergency. You never know, traveling with Aang. He might, I don’t know, fall off a hopping llama or something.”
It was a joke, he knew; she could heal simple injuries like that. But neither of them wanted to imagine their friend suffering another wound that would need spirit water.
He nodded. “You still didn’t answer my first question, though. Do you think I should get rid of my scars, or keep them?”
Despite everything, he managed to keep his voice even. He was pushing his luck by asking a second time. But what she thought about this was important to him—more important than it had any right to be. If she told him to keep his scars, he knew he would.
And maybe, deep down, that was what he hoped.
Katara swirled her tea in her cup, but didn’t answer. What was she thinking? She hated them too, didn’t she; she was just thinking of a polite way to tell him—
“You remember when you helped me find Yon Rha, right?”
The sudden transition caught him off guard.
“Of course I do.”
As if he could ever forget. Her silhouette against the sunrise after a sleepless night, her raw power turning the body’s blood against it, her anger freezing rain to daggers. Exhaustion, pain, fear, relief. It had been the first time he felt like he truly saw her.
Ever since, he hadn’t been able to look away.
“You didn’t tell me what to do when I faced him,” she continued, oblivious to the warmth and guilt circling each other in his stomach. “I had to make that choice myself. I think this is your Yon Rha, Zuko. Whatever you choose to do will be right. But it’s your choice. I’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.”
He stared at her in stunned silence. He swore she’d hear his heart beating out of his chest. How did she know exactly what to say? She must have secretly talked to Uncle. But even Uncle didn’t know about his plan to erase his scars.
“Ride or die, huh?” He grinned a little, remembering the jokes Sokka had made about them after that trip, and then again before they left to face Azula. They’d brushed Sokka off with some huffing, and—in Katara’s case—waterbending.
She gave him a pointed look, and her eyes flickered towards his middle. “Just ride. No dying this time.”
“No dying,” he said with his hand pressed against that scar. He wondered if her answer would’ve changed if he explained his reasons for erasing and keeping that scar, rather than the one on his face. Her half-parted lips made him wonder if she wanted to ask. But she just drained her teacup and refilled it with her bending.
He could see inside the teapot; it was down to the dregs now. He didn’t really want them, and he didn’t need to buy any more time. He’d asked his question.
He dumped what he could into his cup anyway.
“Thank you, Katara.”
“It’s no problem. I trust you, remember?”
With that smile, she could’ve bent him as if he were water.
He buried his face in the rest of his strong tea, wishing he shared her confidence in him. This was a decision he only got to make once. His usual habit of bungling things the first time wouldn’t work here.
“So… do you still want me to get the spirit water?” She asked. The real question.
“You said it yourself. It won’t hurt to have it.” He swallowed the last of his tea. He’d warmed it too much; it scalded his throat on the way down.
He told himself that that was the only part of him that hurt.
“Right.” She nodded. “Tomorrow I’ll make sure to talk to Yugoda. Or today, I guess. I’ve kept you up late enough.”
“Last I checked, you weren’t the one who showed up at my house in the middle of the night.”
She laughed. “Fine. You’ve kept me up late enough.”
“Sorry.” He started clearing up what he could of the tea set, but she quickly washed it with a dancing stream of water and bent the dirty remnants into a basin.
“Don’t worry about it. I rise with the moon anyway, remember?”
He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Trust me, I remember.”
He’d never imagined they’d be able to joke about that comment, only a little over a year later. He’d never imagined he’d look at her and not see just a dangerous waterbender, but a… a good friend.
Someone who instead of fighting, he had almost died for.
His lightning scar seemed to itch, as it always did when he thought of that Agni Kai. Of all the stupid reasons to want to keep his scar, that was the stupidest.
Erasing the scar wouldn’t erase the memories. It wouldn’t change the past. She would always be a part of him, no matter what. He was beginning to wonder if even spirit water could fix that.
Or if he wanted it to.
But he had to hope it could, didn’t he? Like water through his fingers, Katara would leave again. He couldn’t keep clinging to the past.
“Zuko, wait.” Katara’s voice shook him from his thoughts. “I’m not letting you go back in that.”
She was already across the room, where he’d remained standing in front of the fire. The flames extinguished with a sharp flick of his wrist. He left the sconces lit, though, not wanting to plunge the room into complete darkness.
She pulled a nearly folded parka from the trunk at the foot of her bed. After holding it up and inspecting its length, she tossed it to him.
“You’ll be less noticeable this way. Everyone wears parkas at the North Pole. No one will think it’s weird if you pull the hood up over your face.”
He nodded. It was smart, definitely smarter than his pure black ensemble.
“You won’t need it?”
“I have a spare. Besides, I wouldn’t want you freezing out there.”
“Firebenders don’t freeze.” He shrugged on the parka anyway. It was a little small, but it felt softer than it looked; thick white fur lined the inside. Some of Katara’s clean scent still clung to it. He restrained himself from taking a deep breath.
So much for letting go.
“Look at that. Practically Water Tribe.” She crossed her arms and smiled as she looked him over.
He ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling a little like a turtleduck with how the fluffy collar covered his face up to his ears.
“It’s better than Earth Kingdom colors.” He tugged on the too-short sleeves. “Thanks.”
“You can thank me by not getting caught sneaking back to your room.” She gently shoved him towards the door. He chuckled as she herded him out, barely managing to get out a “goodnight.”
He took one deep breath and let it out, letting the freezing air clear his head again. He was right back where he’d started, still just as confused about what to do. Yet somehow, everything felt different.
This choice was his. He could determine his own destiny.
Maybe firebenders didn’t freeze, but as he made his way back, he still felt warmer with her parka enveloping him.
#zutara#tali writes#zuko#katara#atla#avatar the last airbender#fic tag#fic rec#souvenirs we never lose
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3D, Part 2: How 3D Peaked At Its Valley by Vadim Rizov
I didn’t expect to spend Thanksgiving Weekend 2018 watching ten 3D movies: marathon viewing is not my favorite experience in general, and I haven’t spent years longing to see, say, Friday the 13th Part III, in 35mm. But a friend was visiting, from Toronto, to take advantage of this opportunity, an impressive level of dedication that seemed like something to emulate, and it’s not like I had anything better to do, so I tagged along. Said friend, Blake Williams, is an experimental filmmaker and 3D expert, a subject to which he’s devoted years of graduate research and the bulk of his movies (see Prototype if it comes to a city near you!); if I was going to choose the arbitrary age of 32 to finally take 3D seriously, I couldn’t have a better Virgil to explain what I was seeing on a technical level. My thanks to him (for getting me out there) and to the Quad Cinema for being my holiday weekend host; it was probably the best possible use of my time.
The 10-movie slate was an abridged encore presentation of this 19-film program, which I now feel like a dink for missing. What’s interesting in both is the curatorial emphasis on films from 3D’s second, theoretically most disreputable wave—‘80s movies with little to zero critical respect or profile. Noel Murray considered a good chunk of these on this site a few years ago, watching the films flat at home, noting that when viewed this way, “the plane-breaking seems all the more superfluous. (It’s also easy to spot when these moments are about to happen, because the overall image gets murkier and blurrier.)” This presumes that if you can perceive the moments where a 3D film expands its depth of field for a comin’-at-ya moment and mentally reconstruct what that would look like, that’s basically the same experience as actually seeing these effects.
Blake’s argument, which I wrestled with all weekend, is that these movies do indeed often look terrible in 2D, but 3D literally makes them better. As it turns out, this is true surprisingly often. Granted, all concerned have to know what they’re doing, otherwise the results will still be indifferent: it turns out that Friday the 13th Part III sucks no matter how you watch it, and 3D’s not a complete cure-all. This was also demonstrated by my first movie, 1995’s barely released Run For Cover, the kind of grade-Z library filler you’d expect to see sometime around 2 am on a syndicated channel. This is, ostensibly, a thriller, in which a TV news cameraman foils a terrorist plot against NYC. It features a lot of talking, scenes of Bondian villains eating Chinese takeout while plotting and/or torturing our ostensible hero, some running (non-Tom Cruise speed levels), and one The Room-caliber sex scene. Anyone who’s spent too much time mindlessly staring at the least promising option on TV has seen many movies like these. The 3D helps a little: an underdressed TV station set takes on heightened diorama qualities, making it interesting to contemplate as an inadvertent installation—the archetypal TV command room, with the bare minimum necessary signifiers in place and zero detail otherwise—rather than simply a bare-bones set. But often the camera is placed nowhere in particular, and the resulting images are negligible; in the absence of dramatic conviction or technical skill, what’s left is never close enough to camp to come back out the other side as inadvertently worthwhile. I’m glad I saw it for the sheer novelty of cameos from Ed Koch, Al Sharpton and Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa—all doing their usual talking points, but in 3D! But it’s the kind of film that’s more fun to tell people about than actually watch.
But infamous punchlines Jaws 3-D and Amityville 3-D have their virtues when viewed in 3D. The former, especially, seems to be the default punching bag whenever someone wants to make the case that 3D has, and always will be, nothing but a limited gimmick upselling worthless movies. It was poorly reviewed when it came out, but the public dug it enough to make it, domestically, the 15th highest-grossing film of 1983 (between Never Say Never Again and Scarface) and justify Jaws: The Revenge. Of course I was skeptical; why wouldn’t I be? But I was sucked in by the opening credits, in which the familiar handheld-underwater-cam-as-shark POV gave way to a severed arm floating before a green “ocean.” Maybe flat it looks simply ludicrous, but the image has a compellingly Lynchian quality, as if the limb were detached from one of Twin Peaks: The Return’s more disgusting corpses, its artifice heightened and literally foregrounded, the equally artificial background setting it into greater relief.
The film’s prominent SeaWorld product placement is, theoretically, ill-advised, especially in the post-Blackfish era; in practice, it’s extremely productive. The opening stretches have a lot of water-skiing; in deep 3D, the water-skiers serve as lines tracing depth towards and away from the camera over a body of water whose horizon line stretches back infinitely, producing a greater awareness of space. It reminded me of the early days of the short-lived super-widescreen format Cinerama, as described by John Belton in his academic history book Widescreen Cinema (recommended). The very first film in the format, This is Cinerama, was a travelogue whose stops included Cypress Gardens, Florida’s first commercial tourist theme park (the site is now a Legoland), which has very similar images of waterskiiers. Cinerama was, per the publicist copy Belton quotes from the period, about an experience, not a story: “Plot is replaced by audience envelopment […] the medium forces you to concentrate on something bigger than people, for it has a range of vision and sound that no other medium offers.” Cinerama promised to immerse viewers, as literalized in this delightful publicity image; Belton argues that “unlike 3-D and CinemaScope, which stressed the dramatic content of their story material and the radical new means of technology employed in production, Cinerama used a saturation advertising campaign in the newspapers and on radio to promote the ‘excitement aspects’ of the new medium.” There’s a connection here with the earliest days of silent cinema, short snippets (“actualities”) of reality, before it was decided that medium’s primary purpose was to tell a story. It didn’t have to be like that; in those opening stretches, Jaws 3-D’s lackadaisical narrative, which might play inertly on TV, recalls the 1890s, when shots of bodies of water were popular subjects. This is something I learned from a recent presentation by silent film scholar Bryony Dixon, and her reasoning makes sense. The way water moves is inherently hypnotic, and for early audiences assimilating their very first moving images, water imagery was a favorite subject. It’s only with a few years under its belt that film started making its drift towards narrative as default; inadvertently or not, Jaws 3-D is very pure in its initial presentation of water as a spectacular, non-narrative event.
If this seems like a lot of cultural and historical weight to bring to bear upon Jaws 3-D, note that it wasn’t even my favorite of the more-scorned offerings I saw that weekend, merely one that makes it easiest for me to articulate what I found compelling about the 3D immersion experience. I haven’t described the plot of Jaws 3-D at all, which is indeed perfunctory (though it was nice to learn where Deep Blue Sea cribbed a bunch of its production design from). I won’t try to rehabilitate Amityville 3-D at similar length: set aside the moronic ending and Tony Roberts’ leading turn as one of cinema’s most annoyingly waspish, unearnedly whiny divorcees, and what’s left is a surprisingly melancholy movie about the frustrations, and constant necessary repairs, of home ownership. There’s very little music and a surprising amount of silence. The most effective moment is simply Roberts going upstairs to the bathroom, where steam is hissing out for no apparent reason and he has to fix the plumbing. The camera’s planted in the hallway, not moving for any kind of emphasis as the back wall moves closer to Roberts; it doesn’t kill him and nothing comes of it, it’s just another problem to deal with (the walls, as it were, are settling), made more effective by awareness of how a space whose rules and boundaries seemed fixed is being altered, pushing air at you.
Watching a bunch of these in sequence, some clear lessons emerge: if you want to generate compelling depth by default, find an alleyway and block off the other half of the frame with a wall to present two different depths, or force protagonists to crawl through ducts or tubes. This is a good chunk of Silent Madness, a reasonably effective slasher film that, within the confines of its cheap sets and functional plotting, keeps the eye moving. It’s an unlikely candidate for a deep-dive New York Times Magazine article from the time period, which is well worth reading in full. It’s mostly about B-movies and the actresses trying to make their way up through them, though it does have this money quote from director Simon Nuchtern about why, for Bs, it’s not worth paying more for a good lead actress: “If I had 10,000 extra dollars, I’d put it into lights. Not one person is going to say, ‘Go see that movie because Lynn Redgrave is in it.’ But if we don’t have enough lights and that 3-D doesn’t pop right out at you, people are going to say, ‘Don’t see that movie because the 3-D stinks.’” Meanwhile, nobody appears to have been thinking that hard while making Friday the 13th: Part III, which contains precisely one striking image: a pan, street morning, as future teen lambs-to-the-slaughter exit their van and walk over to a friend’s house. A lens flare hits frame left, making what’s behind it briefly impossible to see: this portion of the frame is now sealed off under impermeable 2D, in contrast to the rest of the frame’s now far-more-tangible depth. The remainder of the movie makes it easy to imagine watching it on TV and clocking every obvious, poorly framed and blocked 3D effect, from spears being thrown at the camera to the inevitable yo-yo descending at the lens. (This is my least favorite 3D effect because it’s just too obvious and counterproductively makes me think of the Smothers Brothers.)
Friday the 13th was the biggest slog of the 3D weekend, and the one most clearly emulating 1981’s Comin’ at Ya! I am not going to argue for that movie, either, which is generally credited with kicking off the second 3D craze; it’s a sludgy spaghetti western that delivers exactly as its title promises, using a limited number of effects repeatedly before showing them all again in a cut-together montage at the end, lest you missed one in its first iteration. It’s exhausting and oddly joyless, but was successful enough to generate a follow-up from the same creative team. Star Tony Anthony and director Ferdinando Baldi (both veterans of second-tier spaghetti westerns) re-teamed for 1983’s Treasure of the Four Crowns, the movie which (two screenings in) rewired my brain a little and convinced me I should hang around all weekend. This is not a well-respected film, then or now: judging by IMDb user comments, most people who remember seeing it recall it playing endlessly on HBO in the ‘80s, where it did not impress them unless they were very young (and even then, perhaps not). Janet Maslin admitted to walking out on it in her review; then again, she did the same with Dawn of the Dead, and everyone loves that.
An unabashed Indiana Jones copy, Treasure begins strong with a lengthy opening sequence of tomb raider J.T. Striker (Anthony) dropping into a cave, where he’s promptly confronted not only with a bunch of traps but, for a long stretch, a small menagerie’s worth of owls, dogs, and other wildlife. There are a lot of animals, and why not? They’re fun to look at, and having them trotted out, one after another, is another link back to silent cinema; besides water, babies and animals were also popular subjects. The whole sequence ends with Striker running away from the castle above the cave, artifact retrieved, in slow-motion as Ennio Morricone’s score blares. There is, inevitably and nonsensically, a fireball that consumes the set; it unfolds luxuriously in detailed depth, the camera placed on a grassy knoll that gives us a nice angle to contemplate it looking upwards, a nearly abstract testament to the pleasures of gasoline-fueled imagery. Shortly thereafter, Striker is in some European city to sell his wares, and in every shot the camera is placed for maximum depth: in front of a small city park’s mini-waterfall, views of streets boxed in by sidewalks that narrow towards each other, each position calibrated to create a spectacular travelogue out of what’s a fairly mundane location. There’s an expository sequence where Striker and friends drop into a diner to ask about the whereabouts of another member of the crew they need to round up. Here, with the camera on one side of a bar encircling a center counter, there are something like six layers of cleanly articulated space, starting with a plant’s leaves right in front of the lens on the side, proceeding to the counter, center area, back counter, back tables and walls of the establishment. Again, the location is mundane; seeing it filleted in space so neatly is what makes it special.
The climax finally convinced me I was watching forgotten greatness. This is an elaborate heist sequence in which, of course, the floor cannot be touched, necessitating that the team perform all kinds of rappelling foolishness. At this point I thought, “the only way I could respect this movie more is if it spent 10 minutes watching them get from one side of the room to another in real time.” First, the team has to gear up, which basically means untangling a bunch of ropes—clearly not the most exciting activity. The camera is looking up, placed below a team member as they uncoil and then drop a rope towards the lens. This is a better-framed variant of the comin’-at-ya principle, but what made it exciting to me was the leisurely way it was done: no more whizzing spears, but a moment of procedural mundanity as exciting as any ostensible danger. Basic narrative film grammar is being upended here: if a rope being dropped is just as exciting as a big, fake rip-off boulder chasing our hero down the cave, then all the rules about what constitutes narrative are off—narrative and non-narrative elements have the exact same weight, and even the most mundane, A-to-B connective shot is a spectacular event.
This isn’t how narrative cinema is supposed to work, and certainly not what James Cameron’s conception of good 3D proposed. The movie keeps going, building to a bizarrely grim climax involving a lot of face-melting, scored by Morricone’s oddly beatific score, which seems serenely indifferent to the grotesqueness of the images it’s accompanying. (This is a recurring trait in the composer’s ‘80s work; the score for White Dog often seems to bear no relation to the footage it’s accompanying.) That would make the movie oneiric and weirdly compelling even on a flat TV, but everything preceding convinced me: 3D can be great because it’s 3D, not because it serves a story. I’ve spent the last decade getting more angry about the format than anything, but that was a misunderstanding. Treasure of the Four Crowns is, yes, probably very unexceptional seen flat; seen in all three dimensions, it’s a demonstration of how 3D can turn banal connective tissue and routine coverage into an event. The spectacle of 3D might never have been its potential to make elaborate CG landscapes more immersive, something I still haven’t personally been convinced of; as those 19 non-CG shots in Avatar showed (undermining Cameron’s own argument!), 3D’s renderings of the real, material world and objects have yet to be fully explored. 3D’s ability to link film back to its earliest days is refreshing, in the way that any rediscovery of forgotten parts of film language can be, while also encouraging thought about all the things narrative visual language hasn’t yet explored, as if 3D could take us forwards and backwards simultaneously. In any case, I’m now won over—ten years after Avatar, but better late than never.
#3-d#3-d movie#3-d cinema#treasure of the four crowns#avatar#this fashion insider’s new modern engagement ring is making jaws drop#jaws 3d#friday the 13th part iii#cinemascope#cinerama#cypress gardens#widescreen#amityville 3d#scarface#never say never again#run for cover#oscilloscope laboratories#film writing#film essay#o-scope labs#musings#beastie boys
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Dark Stone Ritual: Won! (with Summary and Rating)
The Game Master gives us some useless experience points at the end of Dark Stone Ritual.
Magic Tower I: Dark Stone Ritual
Germany
Motelsoft (developer and publisher)
Released in 1992 for Atari ST
Date Started: 9 April 2019
Date Finished: 12 May 2019
Total Hours: 29 Difficulty: Easy (2/5) Final Rating: (to come later) Ranking at time of posting: (to come later)
Summary:
The prolific but amateurish Motelsoft levels up in this entry, with mechanics heavily inspired by Might and Magic III and IV. A pre-defined party (you had to pay extra for a character editor) explores a large world in a somewhat linear manner, piecing together clues, solving puzzles, and ultimately defeating the tyrant Xoon. Top-down outdoor exploration contrasts with first-person town and dungeon exploration. Unfortunately, the combats are too easy, the puzzles too simple, and the story too threadbare to make effective use of the character classes, skills system, variety of spells, and variety of equipment that the game largely copies from Might and Magic. A better game engine than a game.
****
Dark Stone Ritual ended up being larger and longer than I expected. When you begin playing, the game does such a good job confining the world that it seems smaller than it is. Hemmed in by impassable terrain, water, and walls, the party must slowly acquire passwords and items necessary to make incremental progress around the world’s major areas. Eventually, the party finds some teleporters that make navigation easier, as does the “Townportal” and “Caveportal” spells.
Unlocking the “Swimming” ability was the last obstacle to open-world exploration.
As you slowly acquire the skills necessary to navigate in forests and swamps, climb mountains, and swim, the full world opens up to you, and you can explore every square for the items and clues necessary to reach the end of the game.
A bit of the final game map.
Ritual is far more linear than I expected at the beginning. Most of what I thought were “side-quests” turned out to be steps along the main quest, all funneling into one or two key items or pieces of information. For example, to win the game you must first find the Dark Stone, which is in the dungeon of Lunos. To pass a certain point in Lunos, at least one of your party members must be a member of the Dark Stone Sect, which you can join by visiting a hut on section of land to the southwest. To get to this area, you have to use a teleporter in a section of land to the southeast, which in turn requires using a teleporter in a small compound on the starting continent. To enter this compound, you have to find a password (RUHE) by interpreting four messages in the dungeon Zappos. To enter the dungeon Zappos, you need an invitation, and that’s as far as I can trace it back because I forgot where I got the invitation. But you get the idea.
Combat remained easy throughout the game, which discouraged spell experimentation (rarely did spells do more damage than a physical attack) and trivialized all the time I spent analyzing inventory. Only thrice did I have to fine-tune my attacks in “strategic” combat, and neither gave me any trouble once I made that decision.
“Strategic” combat lets you position characters and aim your attacks at a particular foe.
The nature of enemy encounters was odd throughout. You find enemies at fixed locations on the overland map and very rarely at fixed locations in dungeons. There is also a fixed number of enemies wandering each town map. Some dungeons have no combats, and those that do never have more than one or two. This paucity of combat makes the dungeons feel rather empty, and the very light navigation puzzles (a few switches, hidden doors, teleporters, and pits that you have to cast “Jump” to get over) don’t do much to fill them.
Exploring a dungeon. An encounter lies ahead.
Nothing really evolves in the way of a “story,” just a succession of NPCs and enemies that you meet and defeat on the way to the final confrontation with Xoon. Because of these weaknesses, I ended up liking the game less towards the end than towards the beginning. In my first entry on Ritual, I was clearly impressed by the mechanics. I still am, to some degree, but the developers made a somewhat boring, basic game with those mechanics. A lot of it feels unfinished–in particular, more than half the skills are unused, and the dungeons and towns are filled with locked doors that can never be unlocked. Nonetheless, it is an improvement from Sandor and Seven Horror’s, and thus bodes well for the many Motelsoft titles we will encounter in the future.
A few things that I otherwise didn’t get a chance to cover along the way:
An arena appears in two locations in the overworld. When you enter, you can tell the game how many enemies you want to face and at what levels. I didn’t really experiment with it, but it’s an alternate source of experience if you somehow need it. The concept is of course lifted from Might and Magic.
In what I think is an original element, a few dungeon entrances (including the last) required entering a pattern of green, red, and blue gems on some kind of plate. You have to find the correct patterns in other places.
Arranging stones on the door of the final dungeon.
There was one door with a combination lock for which I never found the combination. Fortunately, reader Buck reached the same point before me and figured out the answer from the game’s code.
While I’m on unsolvable puzzles, at least three times I was asked to choose from among five symbols. Choosing the wrong one killed the selected character. A tavern tale had warned me that choosing the right symbol would kill the selected character, too, if it was a man. I had to figure out the answers from save-scumming. I have no idea where I was supposed to get them.
Do those symbols mean something?
There’s a useful “return to entrance” button while in dungeons. If your selected character has a high enough “Pathfinding” skill, you’ll return swiftly to the exit stairs. I wish every game had this.
There are fountains all over the world map that raise attributes, hit points, resistances, and spell points, but no combat is tough enough to require them. The final island has about six.
Okay, I guess they’re not so much “fountains” as “offers of wine.” But they’re direct analogues to Might and Magic’s fountains.
The game culminated on a small compound on a northern island. A guardian demanded a password. What she really wanted was a pass phrase, compiled from five words given by residents in little huts in exchange for certain rare stones. The stones, in turn, came from other residents to whom I brought “stone plates” found scattered about the island. The full phrase, for posterity’s sake, is BRENUM BRANUM KANUM LUZE LEI. (Thanks again to Buck for helping with this.)
Does that look like a “word” to you?
This allowed me access to Xoon’s dungeon, which is called “Dark Stone Verlies.” I verified later that the “Caveportal” spell will take you there if you just know the name, meaning that a second-time player could skip a lot of stuff and just warp to the endgame.
The game reminds me that I must emerge with Xoon’s head.
The dungeon is the only one that has multiple levels (three) and the only one that doesn’t remember your progress if you leave and return. There was only one combat, early in the first level, with a guardian of Xoon’s named Morok (I’m sure that name was in previous Motelsoft titles). It was one of the battles that I had to fight in “strategic” mode to win. In “strategic” mode, you can position your characters around individual enemies and target them, ensuring that you can reduce their numbers faster. (“Quick” combat targets enemies randomly.) You also get more attacks per round. Between the advantages of strategic combat and the “Full Heal” spell that I’d recently acquired, the battle was quite easy.
“Quick” combat was the wrong choice for this final battle.
The dungeon’s second level is one of the largest in the game, full of secret doors, teleporters, traps, and a bunch of pits to jump. Eventually, you find your way to the third level and the mystifyingly anti-climactic encounter with Xoon, if it is Xoon. I’m not sure I haven’t mistranslated or misunderstood something. The climax begins with a black-faced man, flanked by two women, saying: “Ihr wollt meinen kopf, ich weiss. Nun gut wenn ihr unbedingt haben müsst. Ha ha ha. Dann sollt ihr Xoons kopf auch bekommen.”
Nice shoepolish, Jolson.
The scene then dissolves away, the party is teleported back near to the entrance, and in their inventory is Xoon’s head.
I translate his text as, “You want my head, I know. Well, if you have to have it, you should also get Xoon’s head,” suggesting that he himself is not Xoon. It’s worth noting that the game uses the same portrait for the master of the Dark Stone sect earlier in the game (although it also re-uses a lot of portraits). I wondered if joining the Dark Stone sect and finding the Dark Stone itself are optional, and that doing so leads to an “easy” ending where the master kills Xoon for you. This is partly suggested by an item in the game’s hint file that says, “If you have the Dark Stone, the rest is a children’s game!” I tested this theory by loading a saved game from before I had the Dark Stone and using “Caveportal” to go directly to the dungeon. (I had to buff with fountains to win the first-level battle.) But no, the same thing happens even if you don’t have the Dark Stone.
A previous appearance by the same character.
Whatever the case, the game ends when you return Xoon’s head to the Game Master back in the dungeon Glorys. The Game master expresses astonishment that you managed to kill Xoon, who was supposed to have nine lives, and then suggests you save your game for Part 2.
In a GIMLET, the game earns:
1 point for the game world. Ritual comes with no backstory, and while the continent and its features are visually interesting, there’s nothing in the way of lore or culture to be found here.
3 points for character creation and development. Without the separate character editor, the game unfortunately has no creation process. But the characters are quite well detailed in attributes and skills, and development is satisfying enough for a few levels, until the game becomes too easy. In the end, the character sheet is more complex than necessary given the limited game content.
My final paladin character.
1 point for NPC interaction. The little dudes in huts are more like “encounters” or “quests” than NPCs.
3 points for encounter and foes. Monsters are probably the weakest part of the game. Most of them are unnamed. They’re distinguished only icon and number of hit points. Because they lack significant special attacks or defenses, there’s little need to explore the game’s variety of spells. Non-combat encounters are a bit more interesting, with a couple of challenging puzzles, although nothing that approaches Dungeon Master in complexity. I liked the option to search for enemies in already-cleared towns and caves.
3 points for magic and combat. I give some credit for the two combat modes, and “strategic” combat offers some real positioning tactics. I didn’t bother to explore more than half a dozen magic spells, particularly since there are no mass-damage spells and the individual-damage spells do less damage than a physical attack.
Buying spells in the last town. I never found out what half of these spells do and never cast half of the rest.
5 points for equipment. Ritual adopted Might and Magic‘s complexity with inventory, where items can have multiple bonuses and features and there are usable items to sub for many spells. Again, though, combat was too easy to bother exploring most of these features, and I largely decided which weapons and armor to keep based on cost.
This helm effectively increases my level by 1.
3 points for economy. There are lots of things to buy–training, skill acquisition and building, weapons and armor, and healing among them. It’s just too easy to acquire enough money for the entire game within the first few hours.
The game provides absurd amounts of gold at regular intervals.
3 points for quests. The game has a main quest, if a little light, and a few side quests that impart extra valuables and skills.
The party solves a side quest to return a ring, only to find that the quest giver was divorced in the meantime.
2 points for graphics, sound, and interface. The graphics are fine, but there is no sound at all. The mouse part of the interface works well, but unfortunately the mouse part is the only part, which I don’t find remotely forgivable.
3 points for gameplay. It has a little nonlinearity at the beginning, and the total number of hours was good for its content. Unfortunately, it was too easy and has no replayability.
That gives us a final score of 27. Motelsoft is making better, more complex games in 1992, and letting itself be influenced by the right titles from bigger developers, but it still lacks a certain sense of balance and polish. Despite the promised sequel, it doesn’t look like there was ever a Magic Tower II. We’ll see them again this year with Arcana unless I happen to pick up Projekt Terra (1991) or Sandor II (1991) on my “old” list first.
Let’s see if I can finish up Star Control II this week, too. If not, the next 1992 game is a Macintosh title called Darkwood. Looking at a couple of screenshots, I’m pretty sure I’ve played this before. If it’s the one I’m thinking of, it won’t be more than a single entry.
source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/dark-stone-ritual-won-with-summary-and-rating/
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[ficlet] #1 Frontier Medicine (Jack/Julian)
So going off this post I decided to go ahead and do this for the next drabble/ficlet series (30 days of Jack is technically done so a focus shift though I will add on there when I have more ideas in that universe).
Check the tag "the new jj frontier" for all of these and stay tuned!
Summary: Jack and Julian grew up together in the Institute, fell in love, and got married. As part of an experimental program Julian [a success story!] was allowed to join Starfleet and was assigned as CMO of Deep Space Nine as a test run along with his husband Jack (who's still struggling to find his place). This is their story.
Pairing: Jack/Julian though there will be G/B/J in some fashion later
Warnings: None yet
Series Notes: In addition to retelling the series, I also wanted to explore Jack and Julian's relationship as it changes. I like seeing how old expectations and habits can grow stronger through change and conflict. Jack in this story does still have a lot more issues than Julian, and I wanted to explore Jack coming into his own more as an individual instead of just the "Julian's husband"/dependent role where he starts (this is also something I think that Kira is sensitive too so if you wonder about her behavior towards the end of this, I hope that explains it.) I hope everyone will join me on this ride, and I look forward to it!
“Just breathe, Jackie,” Julian whispers at Augment level, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Jack nearly drops the PADD as he stuffs it under his armpit and signs that he is breathing. Right next to him the woman, the trill, Jadzia Dax shoots him a reassuring smile. Jack likes her. Julian likes her- though Julian likes her in a very Julian way which is something else entirely. Jack is sure she doesn’t like either of them that same way [as Lauren would say] which he doesn’t understand because from everything he’s observed, his husband is quite Quantifiably a catch but… but Jack, they say is crazy (more of a joke now than it used to be) so what does he know?
He knows that he needs to speak when he can manage it for the translators, according to Dr. Loews, at least until the Federation Computer systems are fully functional to provide the necessary support. Jadzia understands him when he signs (which is a relief) but he knows that the sooner he becomes accustomed to conversing, the less anxious he’ll feel when doing it. He had a lot of practice the few days each week he and Julian were allowed to attend Starfleet Academy (with Julian an Experiment in the medical program and Jack his shadow in classes and tutor for those who needed extra help) so he’s… reasonably sure he can do this.
“Thank you!” he exclaims with a smile and a dip of his head and he can tell that Julian wants to ask her to coffee later but is far too worried about him so… Best Smile at her, hand over Julian’s, squeeze, step back and… ah… the Station is large, he realizes, bright, the hum starting to catch his attention but… he can push it to the back, pushing to the back, arms crossed equalling armor that blocks it out, biting his finger, small endorphin rush, right, better better. “Can Julian repay you with a coffee? For… for being nice, for being a wonderful host to both of us for the trip mmhm.”
Jack doesn’t know what’s so funny about that but Julian’s face Absolutely beams when she laughs and says yes and it’s probably pointless but… Julian has fun and Jack loves seeing that smile.
“Ready?” He asks with a bounce to his step as the Bajoran woman Kira explains that she’ll be showing them around the station. Jack has his PADD at the ready, set to take notes, dismayed but not surprised to see the Station's in disarray because this was part of the briefing and he Augment Whispers to Julian under his breath as he amends his existing notes, takes more, seeing Julian frown with his Serious face.
The Station is also cold even with the warm green sweater, Julian always warm not paying it any mind, as they survey the damaged Infirmary. Hmm lot of Work but they’ll be up for it and Officially Jack can’t help but Unofficially he and Julian have always been each others' Support so… they can work with this. Major Kira explains about the looters which makes Jack’s ears perk up even as Julian tells her that they’re both just exceptionally grateful for the chance that Starfleet has given them and they’ll be doing their best to work together and support everyone who needs their help.
“Only a numbness registered the shock of finding out how much had gone of life… Scorched Earth,” Jack murmurs as he notes the supplies that they’ll need, taking a moment to breathe as the crunch of glass underneath his boots unsettles him. He sees the Major watching him so he tries to offer a smile because that’s what he learned at the Academy but she… doesn’t react any more favorably so he drops that in favor of a rushed explanation of the old Earth military term until Julian coughs so he knows he's rambling, so he stops with a mumbled “sorry”.
“That’s the Cardassians for you,” Major Kira says bitterly after a moment. “They can’t stand the idea that they’re leaving us with anything. They hate that they never broke us.”
“Again, I hope you’ll offer our deepest thanks to your leaders,” Julian interrupts as Jack determines that he needs to get more Information because he doesn’t know enough about Cardassians. “We’re… honored to be here I… I don’t know how much was explained about us but in the Federation our opportunities are rather limited because of our enhancements and no one else wanted to take a chance with us so-”
“Doctor Bashir, I don’t care if the two of and your husband grow wings and fly. We Bajorans don’t have the same luxury that the Federation does to discriminate when people want to help.”
“Hmhm lots of work to be done but but it will get done, get running, does anyone need immediate attention?” Jack asks (very proud of himself for not pointing out the obvious hindrance that wings would pose in such a space, vestigial or otherwise) keeping track of the List the lists all in his head much more efficiently organized and flowing than the PADD but the PADD sets people at ease and the notes are good cues. Major Kira nods efficiently while she tells Julian that Nurse Jabara can help catch them up to speed and at the Academy he’s always been Julian’s shadow but- Words Jack, you can do this.
“Can you tell me more?” Jack asks suddenly rushing on. “Of course I read the files but files aren’t everything and they didn’t have much on the Cardassians, nothing really, they’re a blank in my file a lot of blanks, gaps hm.”
“I’m afraid I have a lot of work to do.”
“I can help I can listen I can-” He looks at Julian who’s motioning for him to drop it so he nods, crossing his arms. “Right right, no impositions. Thank you thank you mmhm.” Nod, smile, good good.
Jack isn’t quite sure why Major Kira gives Julian an odd look during that exchange, but she decides that she could use an extra set of hands with the cleanup after all. Julian reminds him gently only to listen which of course he knows but he supposes it doesn’t hurt to have the reminder because he might overtalk otherwise or rant unnecessarily and again, Major Kira has another one of those expressions.
She tells him as they leave Julian to meet with the medical team that he can talk as much as he likes.
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aesthetic themed ask list
flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?
probably halo? still riding off the performance high tbh
fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?
can’t think of anything that i would want to know immediately that i couldn’t just wait for confirmation in prayer about...
daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?
so far? taking the steps necessary to actually pursue my dreams
1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?
kbbq with friends
matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?
probably tell my parents how i feel about them, same to my friends
black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?
not really. i have things i’d like to do, tho
pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.
as in a human being? um, she has obscenely small hands. her face is like shiny and red perpetually. she is tiny. she gets really excited over the smallest things, i.e. her cats or the sight of a corgi. lowkey highkey hates her hair unless it’s short. bane of my existence.
moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?
bruh i wish. literally still trying to console younger me with each day.
stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?
lowkey cried in front of my therapist as i told him i don’t cry in front of people. idk if he noticed or not (IT’S CUZ HE KEPT STARING AT ME WITH THOSE BIG SAD EMPATHETIC BLUE EYES. I DON’T NEED EMPATHY!!!) but the tears were threatening and i was threatening the tears.
plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.
bruh, had to describe a human for the last one but this time i won’t. my best friend nam shin iii. because i love him and he’s great. wish he were real so i could teach him english and he could teach me korean and i could help him romance his girlfriend.
converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?
i did when i was first meeting my therapist lol. i don’t trust people enough to do stuff like that.
lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?
probably ye olde tiny handed one. she’s the only one who would try to stay up that late with me. doesn’t mean i don’t have to deal with her sleep delirium.
handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?
it’d either be to myself or my mom. something along the lines of letting them know their worth.
cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?
they aight. blue eyes are really scary 90% of the time. brown eyes make more sense to me.
sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.
“different doesn’t mean wrong” said by one of my late faves, who i honestly felt was a kindred spirit 99.999% best friend match to me. not gonna get into why the quote is so deep to me, all i’ll say is it allowed me to breathe.
oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?
indigko
overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?
pay off debts, travel, save, give to charities/church, save some more, maybe make a trust fund?
combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?
with God, yeah. by myself? depends. i can be kind of hypocritical and times.
winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.
guess i know what to tag this ask meme now
pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?
punk for sure.
tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.
super cool. was thinking of getting either a septum or normal nose ring. wish tattoos made a bit more sense on dark skin, but either way they’re super painful so maybe i lucked out.
piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?
i don’t. don’t wanna ruin my skin and i like the natural look over a beat face. i like people looking realistic if that makes sense?
bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.
so many people to talk about, but my ex-fave prince helped me realize i was ace.
messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.
i wouldn’t. at least not rn, don’t have anything revolutionary to tell em. maybe something like “Please remember we’re dealing with human beings” or along those lines, because I’m tired of reading about racists and human rights violations who real life be forgetting that aside from differences in race/gender/sexuality/etc/etc we are all human and worthy of love.
cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.
stromae @ msg - super fun! wish the people behind me didn’t try to waste my time and sit at a dance music concert.
nai palm @ brooklyn (i forget the venue) - also super great. it was great to actually see her irl, and allowed me to realize i can actually socialize without too much problem.
garth brooks @ mercedes benz - yikes ppl in the south RLY like their country music huh?
kimbra @ brooklyn (also forget the venue) - LIVE MUSIC CAN BE SO EXPERIMENTAL AND FUN. kind of reminded me of what i’d heard seeing prince irl was like.
grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?
NYU - You have no outstanding balances. We have a $1 mil scholarship that will be applied to your account as of today. We love you. In fact, we’re gonna wipe away all your student loan debt and ensure no one in your family has to worry about paying for anything ever again in their lives.
space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?
my desk always gets cluttered with papers and stuff. but i really do prefer working at a desk rather than a bed.
white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?
stall as long as possible until i REALLY need to go to sleep. grumble as i lazily brush my teeth and rinse my retainer. lie in bed and watch youtube for anywhere between 30 min to 3 hrs before actually turning off.
old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?
call me crazy, but i want my parents to know about me and *gasp* like what they realize. like lemme tell em i’m ace and have them not freak out, idk.
beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?
blue or purple. but probably a wig or something impermanent.
eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?
THE FAB FIVE. WHY AM I SO DUMB. we’d go makeover their next person on queer eye OR even better we’d just hang out
11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.
1. the aforementioned letter from nyu because i deserve it, ok?
2. a life i don’t feel like i have to run away from because i hate living like this but feel powerless to change it.
3. a cool best friend i could go cool places with, because i wanna go cool places
painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.
i cosplay’d as Taemin during the Ace era. It was cool because it basically was my style, so I felt super confident all day looking my best.
lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?
I do neither. But the craziest thing I did half-asleep was convince myself I could still talk to the aforementioned tiny handed weirdo and answer her questions though my head was firmly planted on my pillow and i was neatly tucked under my sheets. like i really thought homegirl could read my thoughts and find the answers she needed to her questions.
thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?
like donald trump
storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?
maybe one person - i’d see myself the way God sees me so I wouldn’t be so powerless against my insecurities and the fake people in the world all the time.
love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realize you’re in love.
idk? i’m ace and aro and very aesthetically drawn, so i really don’t know if i ever have.
clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?
i prefer myself with longer hair tbh.
coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?
hot chocolate if i wanna blend in. otherwise a strawberry acai refresher. i trust any of my friends because it’s really not that deep.
marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?
gaining self-confidence so i can step more firmly into my calling.
fin.
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Zelo - Control
Anon request “Can you write a very hot smut with Zelo (he takes control and everything)?” and a tasty treat for myself on my birthday. I hope that you enjoy this since I threw in some fluff to show your relationship. -Admin Em
Rated M
Warnings: Mild BDSM themes, a line or two dirty talk, orgasm denial, marking, being tied, oral.
Absentmindedly you fiddle with your phone as you zone out on your TV and debate if you should text your boyfriend again or not. You haven’t heard much from Junhong for the last three days, just little texts here and there saying how you miss each other or wish each other well. It shouldn’t bother you so much since sometimes you go for almost a week without hearing from him when he’s on tour, but he’s been home the last three days. He’d warned you he would be busy, but you expected he would at least spare time for dinner with you or that he would invite you over for a little bit.
You focus when your phone lights up, telling you he’s made an Instagram post. Unlocking your phone, you look to see footage of him dancing in the practice room. His talent never ceases to amaze you as you sit smiling at your phone. He seems happier in his latest posts and it warms your heart. Still, you can’t help but worry that he pushes himself too hard. He always assures you that he rests as needed, but with all his late night posts and lives, you have your doubts.
You actually stayed up late last night watching his live, even if it was just him lying in bed listening to music. It made you miss him more and wonder why he couldn’t send more than a few words. And today, you haven’t heard anything. Not one word. It makes you worry. You knew his idol life would be demanding, and that was something the two of you discussed multiple times before and during your relationship. Still, you can’t help the worry that his life as Zelo is pulling him away from you: that he is no longer your Junhong, but is instead simply Zelo.
Briefly you think about contacting his mom to see if you could bring the family dinner later. She already seems to think of you as a daughter, the two of you spending time together when Zelo was away on tour. Even if you didn’t get to see your boyfriend, at least you could spend some time with Mochi since you didn’t end up babysitting him at all during this tour yet.
The thought is tempting, but you realize it’s late and that they’ve probably already eaten. Not to mention, you don’t feel the motivation to make that much food after the long day of work you had. You actually should still be in the studio editing more of the photos from the upcoming project, but you had worked from 7am to 6:30pm and that felt like more than enough time, especially after you were up late.
Thinking about work and food makes you realize that all you’ve done in the hour since you left work is laze on your couch. Forcing yourself up, you find some ramen and begin boiling the water. As you wait, you change into your pajamas, aka one of Junhong’s shirts and your underwear. You smell his shirt, sighing softly since it’s starting to lose his scent. You head back to make your little meal before settling back on the couch to eat and watch TV. As you finish up, you glance at your phone, wondering once again if you should message Junhong to at least see if he made it home. Although by his standards, this is too early to quit.
Not yet ready to call it a day, you half-heartedly clean your apartment. When you finish you hope there’s a message from him, but there’s nothing. You would definitely have a talk with him about this when you have the chance. Although the current situation would make it seem otherwise, the two of you were actually good about communicating. When the relationship was newer, there were quite a few petty fights until the two of you learned to better express yourselves. Sometimes you could anticipate each other before anything was said, but other times words were necessary.
You remind yourself that he told you he would be busy, but that still doesn’t ease your worry especially since he would be headed out for the rest of the tour in two days. There’s no use dwelling on it until you can have a proper conversation about everything. With this in mind, you head to bed and begin to start a goodnight message only to stop as you hear the front door open and slam shut.
There’s a soft curse or two that leave you wondering if you should go to him or wait in bed. Sometimes when he’s upset Junhong needs space before he talks to you, other times you cuddle and talk about it. Last time this happened, he asked you to slow dance with him.
“______________?” You hear him softly call. With that signal you leave the bedroom and guilt forms on his features. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I just laid down,” you soothe, crossing the distance between the two of you since he hasn’t moved from the spot near the door. Gently you comb the hair away from his eyes. “Do you need to eat or shower?”
He shakes his head before taking your hand. “Lie down with me?”
You give a simple nod, allowing him to lead you back into your room. He settles onto the bed, and as soon as you lie down he rests his head on your shoulder, seeking your comfort for whatever is bothering him. Immediately, you hold him close to you and kiss the top of his head as you rub his back gently. You want to say something to ease whatever pain he has, but instead you keep quiet and wait for him to explain.
“I...I wasn’t sure if I should come,” he mumbles. His words surprise you, causing you to stop your movements for a brief moment. “I didn’t want to bring my problems to you...but I really, really missed you.”
“I missed you too, but this is a partnership. I am here to help you to the best of my ability. You don’t have to go through anything yourself, remember?”
“I know I’m not alone. The company is just adding more pressure, and I feel like I can’t keep up lately. I want to do better, and so I keep practicing and practicing between schedules but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I try and show the fans as much love as I can with lives and such to make up for it. Except that doesn’t change that I barely have time to see any of my friends or you...I almost thought I wasn’t going to see you because of how much I have to do,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your waist.
You wait to see if he’s going to say more before speaking. “You are one of the most talented idols out there. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your girlfriend. There are many out there who admire your skills and feel inspired because of you. Many of the comments you’ve been getting are telling you how great you are and to encourage you to rest. You’re your worst critic, where you see flaws, some people see their idol being more human. True fans want you to be healthy and happy.
“So do your friends, and they understand how crazy your life is, but just let them know you’re thinking of them now and again. As for me, I won’t lie, I was starting to get worried since you weren’t sending much. I thought maybe your career was coming first, which sometimes it has to. I know that. But I worried since we barely spoke...I thought maybe you were starting to forget about me today. It was foolish to think that when could tell you were going through more than you were letting on, and I didn’t want to push you or seem needy while you were so busy.”
“I’m sorry for worrying you and making you feel like my career came first. It matters to me a lot, but so do you,” he places a light kiss on your neck. “I just got trapped in my own head for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you what was happening...the company even threatened to take away my phone during the tour since they felt that I wasn’t focusing enough. I didn’t want to start a conversation I could finish or make you feel like you’re causing trouble. I could have handled things better, I’m sorry,” he kisses your jaw.
“It isn’t your fault. I can understand your worries. I should have reached out too. We’ll both do better next time. What matters now is that is that you’re here.” You carefully tilt his head to press your lips to his.
The kiss is soft and slow, almost hesitant, but it doesn’t take long for Junhong to shift so he can kiss you again. This time, there’s a little more force before he stops to rest his forehead against yours. He takes a moment before kissing along your jawline. “You always know how to make me feel better. Even when I feel like I’ve lost control of my life.”
Naturally, your head tilts back as you savor his actions. You feel one of his hands rest on your bare thigh. You know where this is going, and so you spur things on by whispering, “Take control.”
The hand on your thigh tightens its hold, but he pulls back to look at you. “You’re sure?”
The two of you had only recently started getting a bit more experimental in the bedroom by dominating each other every now and then. It was a rare occurrence, partially due to timing and partially because you were both still learning, but whenever it was going to happen you would at least have some sort of discussion about what would happen. The unexpected still would happen of course.
As eager as he is to dominate you, he doesn’t want to push anything.
“I trust you. We have the safe words. But if you don’t want to-”
His kiss cuts your words short, causing you to take a moment to kiss back. He shifts, gently nudging your legs further apart so he can settle between them and get a better angle for the kiss. His lips move away from yours, traveling down your neck before finding a spot to mark. Your fingers tangle into his hair, making him softly moan against your skin.
He pulls back, looking at his work before growling in your ear, “I’m going to leave so many marks that you won’t forget how much you matter to me.”
His words send a shiver down your spine before he lightly nips your earlobe. As he starts to leave another hickey your body arches to be closer to him, but to your surprise he uses both hands to push your hips back down. You feel him smirk as a soft whine leaves you. As he kisses his work and moves to another spot, you feel his hands start to move up your shirt and to your breasts, which are then given a gentle squeeze.
You gasp softly and that’s enough to make him pull back to pull the shirt off of you. You’re about to reach out to take his shirt off, but your hands are pinned before you come close. “Wait.”
You want to protest, but you keep quiet which earns you a kiss. His hands release yours to ghost up your body and fondle your breasts once more. When he begins playing with your hardening nipples, he uses your surprise to slide his tongue into your mouth. One of his hands reaches for one of yours, giving two gentle squeezes to check in with you as he continues the kiss. Slowly you return the gesture, which makes him kiss you more eagerly.
When he pulls away, he quickly moves down to leave marks on your collarbones. He presses his lower half to yours, allowing you to feel his erection through his jeans before he grinds against you. Junhong is a dancer, making him in tune with his body and he’s made it his task to know yourself just as well. He wastes no time, kissing along the spots he knows you’re sensitive to as you grip onto the sheets, trying to let him lead.
Your restraint crumbles as a tongue runs over one of your nipples, and you quickly grab at the back of his shirt, trying to pull it off him. When he pulls away, it’s enough for you to get the fabric off. “I thought I told you to wait?”
“I’m sorry...I couldn’t...” you say softly, noting the dark look in his eyes as he looks down at you.
He takes the shirt from you, tossing it aside on your behalf before he harshly pinches your nipples as a form of punishment. “You couldn’t what?”
“I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to see you,” you whimper, more from the deep tone of his voice than the pain. “I’m sorry,” you tell him again.
One hand gently cups your chin as the other pulls at his belt. “Tonight I’ll be generous, if you show me how sorry you are.”
He sets the belt to the side, but you don’t question this as he kisses you gently before he stands to get rid of his pants and boxers. You lick your at the sight before crawling forward, glancing up at him before taking a hold of his cock. He lets out a content sigh as you start to pump him, but you prefer the noise he makes as you run your tongue over his tip. Usually you would tease him, but not tonight. Not after you already went against an order.
You run your tongue over him, coating him with your saliva before you take the tip into your mouth. Gentle hands gather your hair into a ponytail as your head sinks lower and lower until you can’t take anymore. At first Junhong doesn’t push you as you bob your head up and down, but soon he begins guiding your paces with slight tugs on your hair. Any time you pull back for air, your hands take place of your mouth.
Carefully, you breathe and relax your throat enough to deepthroat him, pulling the most delicious sound from your boyfriend’s mouth as well as a few curse words. He starts rocking his hips, wanting more and more from you. It’s the second time that he pushes his hips too much that you smack his thigh and pull away. “Yellow,” you warn.
He quickly presses kisses to your face, his dominance forgotten to soothe you. “Sorry, sorry,” he says softly. “No more of that. Do you need a minute?” You hadn’t given the word to completely stop, but he still want to be certain.
“I’m okay, we can continue,” you pant before he pushes you back onto the bed. He leans over you to pull the lube out of the nightstand so it’s at the ready. His fingers tease at your waistband before moving lower to your wetness. He keeps quiet, but the smirk on his face says it all as his fingers press into the damp spot. Slowly, he lowers himself so can make marks along your stomach and hips as he lowers your underwear. As he begins nibbling on your inner thigh, the anticipation makes you whine. “Junhong, please.”
He doesn’t say anything as he continues marking your other inner thigh.
“Ple-oh!” You moan loudly as his tongue presses to your clit. He sucks it lightly while pulling your legs further apart as you try to close them. Your hips buck lightly as his tongue moves around the sensitive bud before his tongue slides between your folds. Vaguely, you hear the pop of the lube top, but all you can focus on is the waves of pleasure building. It’s only seconds later that you feel a finger sliding into you, going nearly knuckle deep.
Once the digit starts moving, it only adds to the pleasure you’d already been feeling. It isn’t long before another is added, stretching you further while bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You reach to grip on Junhong’s hair in attempt to make sure he doesn’t pull away as the pressure builds. Despite the tight grip he still manages to pull away. He gives a soft chuckle at the cry you make as your orgasm starts to fade away.
“Don’t worry baby,” he kisses you gently, reaching for a condom that’s quickly rolled on. “Hands up,” he instructs grabbing his belt from where he’d set it. You do as told and soon he has you bound to the headboard. “As much as I love you marking me, we can’t have it so close to our departure,” he explains as if he can tell what you’re thinking. “Too tight?”
You shake your head, earning another kiss as his hands trail down your body. You can feel his cock against your entrance, and press against it as you’re unable to do much else. A slight smack on your thigh is a silent warning not to rush him, and so you try to settle down. This once again proves difficult as he runs his tip around your entrance.
You start to beg, wanting more. Needing more. Your words are enough to get your way as he slides into you. The both of you moan in unison. “You feel incredible,” you tells you as he starts to thrust into you gently.
The bruising grips on your thighs tell you he’s restraining himself to take things slow. Despite the slow pace, his thrusts are still forceful as he plants kisses along your body along with the occasional bite. You want to touch him, but the belt keeps your hands in place, leaving you mildly frustrated. It’s only once he begins to move faster that his hands move to the sheets so you can meet his pace. His name falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know and it spurs him on to find your g-spot.
When he does, you don’t even seem to know his name anymore as only moans come from you. It isn’t long after that you reach your peak and Junhong works you through it. His own follows just after, causing him to moan out your name as he releases.
When his high is over, he rests against you, catching his breath and listening to you do the same. You reach to try and hold him, only to feel the belt tighten. “Babe, can you untie me?”
Junhong gives a small nod before pulling out, leaning over to release you before disposing of the condom. He looks down at you as you lower your arms, allowing them to fully relax. “Was that too much?” He looks at the red marks covering your body and wants to be certain everything is alright.
“Outside of the one warning I gave you it was perfect.”
With that he flashes an adorable smile. “Thank you. I’m so lucky to have someone like you to love.”
You lean up and kiss the tip of his nose “I love you too, and I’m really glad you decided to come over.”
He starts spreading kisses all over your face, showering you in affections. Between each kiss he speaks, “Me too. You always make me feel better. Now do you want to shower?”
“Only if we can snuggle after.”
“Anything for you, my love,” he promises, kissing your forehead. He disappears for a moment to grab a few things, such as a change of clothes for after, and starts the water so it can warm up.
With everything set, he carries you bridal style into the bathroom only setting you down before entering the shower. The two of you wash each other off, occasionally using the soap to tickle each other as you joke around. He teases you for tracing your finger over his tattoo, and so you make sure to point out every time he lingers on a darkening mark on your body.
When you're done washing, you towel off and slip into the underwear and shirt Junhong grabbed for you. Once he has his sweatpants on the two of you change the sheets, tossing the dirty ones to be washed before settling into bed. This time you rest on his chest.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm,” you hum in content. “What time do you have to leave tomorrow for schedules?”
“Not until after lunch. I plan to spend all morning with you.”
“Perfect. Will you sing me to sleep?” You ask with a yawn. Happily, Junhong begins singing Shine, only stopping once he’s sure you're fast asleep.
#zelo#zelo scenarios#zelo scenario#b.a.p scenario#b.a.p scenarios#bap scenario#bap scenarios#bap smut#b.a.p smut#zelo smut#junhong#junhong smut#kpop scnearios#kpop smut#smut#zelo x you#zeloxyou#b.a.p#bap#only took twenty times to get this to post
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Artist Asks Meme (Long Post Alert)
I took the questions from this post, and decided to just answer all of them without waiting for prompts, because... why not?
Also, apologies for the long post. I could have put all this under a cut, but I want it to show in its entirety on my blog page. I will tag from now on all posts like this under “long post”, if that is something you would like to blacklist from your dashboard.
1. When did you get into art? As soon as I could hold a pencil. Sure, I may have held it like Beast initially held his spoon in Disney’s The Beauty and the Beast feature film, lacking the finer motor skills due to me being barely out of diapers. That didn’t stop me from drawing thousand legged potatoes and trying to pass them as horses. However, I suppose art became to hold a deeper meaning to me during my last years of elementary school, and all the way through junior high. I had finally become deeply depressed due to bullying and being ostracized by my fellow children. My family was having a difficult time as a whole, and I decided to bottle everything in, thinking I’d only cause more worry otherwise. I would eventually come to harbor suicidal intentions. During that time drawing became an outlet for me to both express and process my emotions, so it naturally became an important necessity in my daily life. It may very well be that was something that ultimately gave me just about enough strength to keep moving forward. Unfortunately, l would later lose my passion to do art. I didn’t really see eye to eye with my high school art teacher, and that really ate at my love for doing art, seeing as it had always been something very closely linked to myself and my enjoyment rather than that of other people. I got tired going about my art as I was expected to. It would take years for that passion to rear its head again. So here I am now, learning everything all over again! 2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? I started out on Elfwood in my teens, then also signed up for deviantART. I eventually deleted both of these galleries, once I stopped making more art and checking the activity on these sites started to feel like a chore rather than something fun. Now I have a gallery on deviantART once again, which I update pretty much whenever I have the intention to put something up on Tumblr as well. But I definitely consider my dA account more of a means to keep in touch with a couple of cool people and their artistic endeavors. This Tumblr gallery I consider more my “real gallery”... for no particular reason really. 3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand. FEAST THINE EYES.
This is not the oldest one I have on hand, though. That one has already been posted separately on my blog. 4. What defines your artistic style? That is ridiculously hard to answer to be honest. I experiment so much it becomes difficult even for myself to pinpoint what exactly it is that defines my style. There are certainly some recurring elements, like how my humans tend to have elongated, exaggerated bodies (which is something you can already see in that older drawing above). I suppose that’s one thing that defines my style - a type of exaggeration of proportions and lines. I don’t really give a shit about the dos and don’ts regarding how to make art. Legs for example bend in ways they shouldn’t, and it’s a purely artistic choice from my part. I think it adds a layer of expression to my work, without which the piece would be a lot more boring to look at. I suppose the fuckton of experimentation I do is also something of a defining feature in my art, but it’s more of a personal element than something others can recognize my art by. 5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past? Welp, I think I pretty much brushed on this already above there on question four. Yes, I do, and yes, I have. 6. What levels of artistic education have you had? I have no formal education whatsoever. Though, I did take one course at my local adult education centre. It assembled only about once a month for half a year. It was an alright course, but the teacher’s tips felt very blatantly influenced by her own personal tastes in art. I felt like I was being pushed to express myself in ways that didn’t really feel like me at all, so in the end I never showed up for the last gathering. 7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site. This practice picture drawn with ink didn’t make the cut mostly because I used the exact same perspective and general composition as for my Cheap Art Supply Challenge piece. But also because I am not that fond of it.
8. What is your favourite piece that you have done? A lot of times I just like the newest piece I’ve made the most, but there are certain works that hold additional value to me even when time passes. It’s been four years since I made it, but I’m still fond of this painting. It was the first time in years that I took up watercolours again, so the piece holds certain personal value to me. For that reason, I could even go as far as calling it my favourite. 9. What is your least favourite piece that you have done? I’m not sure I can decide. Not because I’d have so many not-faves, mind you! I can look back to the pieces I’ve made and think the ideas weren’t as cool as I thought back then, or that the techniques are horrible in comparison to what I’m capable of now. But I still do not really dislike them, because they remind me of how far I’ve come, where my foundations are, and which elements I decided to stick with. They remind me of the steps I’ve taken, and so I can’t really dislike them. 10. What do you like most about your art? Hmm, I think my favourite element in my art is just how unpolished a lot of it is. Like I have no qualms about leaving details vague. For example, a lot of times I draw less details on hands if the body shape is my primary interest in a piece I’m working on. Detailed works are very cool to look at, but there is also nothing wrong with leaving things to the viewer’s imagination, or leaving certain parts simple in order to encourage the viewer’s gaze to move where you want it to. 11. What do you like least about your art? I can’t really say. Despite all my artistic shortcomings, I am rather fond of it overall... Maybe just my lack of readiness to draw more diverse body types? Which is more of an occasional “Should I be doing that?” type of thought, rather than something I perspire over every time I draw and see I have once again created something of the lean and mean variety. 12. Have you ever considered taking commissions? Yes, and I have done some commission work in the past. Currently I have no particular drive to take new ones, however, as I’m more interested in experimenting different things as I see fit. 13. Are you looking to pursue a career in art? Not really. There was a time when I entertained that thought, but realistically speaking, I don’t think I’d work too well under the constant pressure of having to be as productive as possible at all times. I would quickly lose what art means to me, and with that, the joy it gives me. It’d just become another thing I must do to make ends meet. That, I do not want. 14. What do you like drawing the most? Human faces and animals are the most relaxing thing for me to draw, and looking at my sketchbooks, drawing them seems to be bordering on obsession. Other things I enjoy drawing, though less often, are unnecessarily long legs, skeletal figures, and armour.
15. What do you like drawing the least? Backgrounds. I have yet to figure out how to get them to look like they are actually part of the picture and not just their separate thing that is there. Environments overall are rather tricky for me, though I have made some brave attempts. Buildings are hard. Drawing lush vegetation is hard. Having very little patience a lot of times doesn’t encourage learning either. 16. Do you draw more fanart or original art? If fanart, what fandom do you draw the most of? Original art, which you might not guess looking at my blog here, since I started it just when I was about to go on a fanart loop for quite a few months. Wanting to draw fanart comes to me in certain intervals. Overall, however, I find it way more fun to draw whatever comes out of my head and hand, rather than following an already existing example. 17. What would you absolutely refuse to draw? Smut. It’s just not something I feel compelled to create. 18. What is your purpose for drawing? It makes me happier. I was going to go on a tangent about how it calms me and how meditative drawing is, how it gives me that feeling of having accomplished something, etc. - but what all that really boils down to is that simple statement. Drawing makes me happier. 19. What medium/program do you use the most in your art? Ink and watercolour are what I use the most by far. There’s something lovely about watching them spread and mix uncontrollably on a wet surface. Every now and then I get into the mood of trying other types of traditional media, though, like acrylic paint and oil pastels. Right now I’d really like to try my hand at encaustic painting... but getting the necessary equipment is an investment of over a hundred euros. That’s far too much for me in my current situation.
20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.) I am sorry, but I will flat out refuse to answer this one. Ranking one’s art encourages comparison to people you admire. I am really hard pressed to see how this could be anything but toxic. 21. Do you believe there is such thing as “bad art?” Maybe. Art that never evolves anywhere, in any way, but remains absolutely stagnant? Be it on a personal level, or on a more encompassing level that challenges already existing traditions of art. On a personal level it doesn’t need to be very visible evolving either. In my mind, it’s enough if it’s something as small as “I have come to use this one colour I never before felt I could use with success.” If the question comes down to something as mundane as “Do you enjoy the art you see or do you not” being the defining element that discerns good art from the bad... Then my answer would be no, there is no such thing as bad art. I could never claim there is with good conscience, based only on my subjective likes and dislikes. 22. List at least one of your “artspirations.” Oh, I have so so many! And not all of them related to visual arts, even. But there is no point in making such a long list, so here are but a few of them: Gustave Doré and his many illustrations. I am particularly fond of the ones he made for Don Quixote and Orlando Furioso. Yoshitaka Amano. I find myself rather drawn to the elegance displayed in many of his paintings and drawings. Albrecht Dürer and his highly detailed woodcuts. Ayami Kojima and her masterful use of traditional means. She is self-taught too, which in and of itself is inspiring. Lian Quan Zhen and the beautifully lush colours in all his watercolour works. Paul Koudounaris and his absolutely gorgeous photographs of the lovingly decorated catacomb saints. (Picture below from his publication Heavenly Bodies, Thames Hudson Ltd, 2013.)
23. What do you think you could stand to improve on? Everything. I’m not really the type to stop and think I shouldn’t strive to improve more on a certain area just because I happen to like whatever I’m already doing. There are always elements I can refine, new methods of expression to test, and just plain something I could do better or at least differently enough to keep things interesting for myself. 24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.? Oh no, why end on such an embarrassing note! Cruel, cruel person, that came up with these questions. The short answer is yes. The long answer is, well, I would copy other people’s artwork, making only about just enough changes to replace the characters they drew with my own ones. Just thinking about it now makes me cringe! In case you were left wondering: None of those pictures were ever published anywhere, and have long since been burned with fire. And that’s an accurate description of what happened to them. All of them.
--- Turns out some versions of this meme also include: 25. Draw a picture! So here’s a quick pooch. Thanks for reading!
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Gender Equity and SotG: A Report from Mexico
Our story begins in the 2017 Panamerican Ultimate Club Championships (PAUCC) in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where our Mexico City club Cóndor Ultimate, competed in its first international tournament. At the tournament, my teammate Dani and I attended a particularly eye-opening conference about gender equity in mixed ultimate. At this conference, we realized the Mexican scene seemed so far behind compared to the international representations we witnessed at PAUCC. This stirred a feeling of urgency in us and made us more determined to work seriously on the issue, which led to a profound exploration of Spirit of the Game and a vanguard endeavour for gender equity in Mexican Ultimate.
Dani and I had the opportunity to get to know each other better as we wandered the picturesque streets of Buenos Aires and debriefed on the frustrating experience we had competing at PAUCC with our mixed team. Questions like “What did you think of the tournament? What would you like to change within our team? How would you compare mixed to men’s and women’s divisions? Where do you think the Mexican ultimate scene is going?” These became natural conversation starters throughout the remainder of the trip. We realized we saw eye to eye on many of these topics. The confluence of ideas, as well as the fervor of our frustrations, was too deep to remain as mere bystanders.
Shortly after we got back home to Mexico, Dani proposed that she and I become Spirit captains for the upcoming mixed season with the explicit objective of addressing gender issues and striving for equity from that position. We were beginning to play with the idea that SotG could be leveraged as a tool for social transformation and we felt it worthy to apply it to the gender narratives we had lived in ultimate, so I was very glad to accept Dani’s proposal.
Deeply inspired by the global movement being lead by the likes of GUM and EMU, we started holding conversations with Cóndor about equity in the mixed division. During these sessions we addressed questions like, “What is gender? What is equity? What does gender equity look like in ultimate? What actions can we take to work towards equity in our own team?”
One of the primary insights we reached in these team conversations is one that Dani and I had already chatted about: Gender oppression (namely, the patriarchy) is not unique or intrinsic to Cóndor’s culture. Rather, we are merely a subset within a broader social environment that already has established culture, norms, and practices. Machismo runs deep in our ultimate scene because it runs deep in our society and vice versa.
Sports in Mexico are not only male-dominated in general, they are a breeding ground for toxic masculinity narratives. While some communities in other parts of the Ultimate World were already leading inspiring ventures of empowerment, our team was still using phrases like “don’t throw like a girl” or “grow some balls” in time-out team huddles at tournaments. Building a healthy and successful mixed team in this noxious cultural context can be incredibly challenging. Several toxic macho behaviors become more highlighted, normalized, and even excused by the pressure of competition, making ultimate a space where the dynamics of oppression not only get played out, but actually get further perpetuated. These mutually reinforcing patterns create a system of self-replicating harm — a vicious cycle that can seem impossible to break out of.
If Dani and I wanted to see a structural change in our environment, we needed to take it further than just talking inside our team and had to start working with the Mexican ultimate scene at large. So the next natural step was taking the conversation to tournaments for the Mexican ultimate community to address its gender issues.
At the time it occurred to us that to start conversations at tournaments we could add gender equity as a sixth pillar to be evaluated in the Spirit scoring sheets, since it is common practice to discuss scores in Spirit circles here in Mexico. We thought that evaluating the other team’s gender dynamics would detonate an exercise of observation, reflection, dialogue and perhaps eventually action on the matter. This experiment was the main idea we invested our time and effort in for the entirety of the mixed season, and we persisted developing and refining the proposal throughout the following months.
For the first tournament of the year, we included in the tournament’s manual a set of examples for every grade (0-4) in the gender equity pillar following WFDF’s format for the 5 original pillars. We also wrote and printed out a complementary text to introduce the experiment, including a brief definition of gender equity. It offered a general overview of the proposal and its objectives, encouraging players to take it seriously while also stressing the experimental nature of it and openly inviting feedback. We tried to go over these materials to clear doubts in a poorly attended Spirit Captains meeting at the start of the tournament. Those who received the add-on to the scoring sheet later were pretty confused about its origin and purpose. Some would easily trivialize it saying “it’s too complex to score.” We made it far too easy for people to dismiss it.
We tried to step up our game for the second tournament of the year, this one to be held out of state. We tried to emphasize the grassroots nature of the experiment and invited players to actively participate in the creation of this proposal appealing to the fact that it focuses on an issue that concerns our community as a whole. We shared all the materials with event participants and published on social media. We also scheduled a time slot during the tournament to hold a feedback conversation and improve the proposal. At first, only one person sitting nearby participated. After talking in circles for a little while, we encouraged a young team to join. As more and more players from other teams joined, participant interventions grew in variety and intensity until it became a challenge to keep the group focused on the experience with the scoring sheet. Despite Dani and my efforts that afternoon and later on social media, the apparent glimmer of interest evaporated shortly after everyone rode their bus back home. It was hard to ensure a follow-up to these tiny bursts of interest.
The National Championships came around and we wanted to end the season delivering a more polished, finalized product. With the help of Flor Aldatz, who is a member of WFDF’s Women in Sports Commission and a player in Argentina’s Actitud Pizza, Dani became inspired to divide the Gender Equity pillar into 4 categories that were more clearly defined: Players could no longer appeal to vagueness as a cop-out. Ultimate México (the governing body for the sport in the country) kindly granted financial support to have printed and laminated copies of all the materials for each competing team. We tried to be extra diligent about starting the conversation on social media in advance, checking in with the involved volunteers throughout the tournament, and seriously focusing on the topic during Spirit circles.
During certain Spirit circles, we had to remind the other team about the gender equity score, and we still had trouble ensuring all teams received handouts promptly throughout the tournament. At the end of the day, the community did not seem to take ownership of the proposal — the materials, the idea, or even the gender problem in itself. After genuine attempts to make the proposal clear, open, and accessible, it was largely met with indifference. This was also made explicit to us in the lowly responded evaluation survey we sent out afterwards.
It was a disappointment that the experiment didn’t lead to more concrete action on the matter. It did not end machismo in ultimate, sports, or anywhere else. After failing to transform Mexican ultimate, we were ready to drop the dream of “the 6th pillar” and stop insisting with the rubric.
***
Despite our disappointment, I do see some value in the possibility that the experiment catalyzed some important dialogues and deep reflections. We started many conversations that wouldn’t have taken place otherwise. Some conversations even lead to discomfort among players and teams, with several people trying to skip the rubric and evade the topic. I think this is an indicator of how urgent it is for us to address this collective problem. I hope some of that tension has been harvested and transformed, if not into action, then at least into some type of awareness by the Mexican ultimate community. After all, Spirit of the Game has been defined as, “mindful behavior by players before, during, and after a game of ultimate.”
Another silver lining that I like to highlight from this experience, is that it got me and Dani to reflect on Spirit and gender more thoroughly and constantly. I am certain that the experiment greatly shaped how I see gender, ultimate and Spirit of the Game. The experience with the rubric proposal triggered a series of profound revelations that have been snowballing in my head ever since. I’ve come to see Spirit of the Game as a praxis: a guiding philosophy and a set of actions or practices. Many of the tools of SotG (e.g. scoring, circles, captains, timeouts, etc.) seem to carry an implicit dialectic of action-reflection-action. We play, we talk about it, we play, and so on. These iterative feedback cycles serve to make us aware of what we need to improve on in a peer-to-peer fashion. When done well, these constant evaluations orient us to work on our challenges and deficiencies. These continuous feedback processes act as a self-regulation mechanism to keep our behavior in check and change it if necessary.
Additionally, I’ve come to realize that Spirit is an intrinsically social phenomenon. We apishly mirror our opponents’ kindness with more kindness. When we see another team do the right thing, we become inspired to cultivate that to flourish as well. Spirit seems to spread like spores with these feedback loops. Perhaps we can use these self-replicating cycles to out-power the toxic patterns of machismo we see in sports, media and culture in general. I believe that if Spirit were embodied in more spaces of our daily lives, we would have powerful tools to counter these vicious cycles with our very own virtuous ones.
The broad yet powerful definition of Spirit of the Game as “mindful behavior” and the fact that it is so wildly contagious makes me think of it as some type of collective consciousness — an emergent phenomenon that is as abstract as it is relatable, as simple as it is powerful. I like to think of social movements as emergent phenomena of that type as well: a collective paradigm shift with no one person instructing others, rather many individuals acting in a decentralized yet coordinated form to make a necessary change in their environment. These phenomena often grow and spiral beyond their original scope, causing a ripple effect that transforms their surrounding. I hope that the correlation I see is not merely coincidental and that it inspires many of us to keep working hard for profound systemic transformation.
***
We didn’t catalyze a radical revolution in Mexican ultimate with the “6th pillar” of Spirit of the Game, but the exploration of Gender Equity through SotG and Ultimate was far from finished. After nationals, we figured WUCC 2018 would be a great place to showcase our experiment. We were pleasantly surprised with how many people at the tournament were interested in hearing our story and wanted to see the materials we had created for the proposal.
We were honored to be featured among the finalists for the Ultimate Peace Global Spirit of the Game award due to our efforts for equity in the Mexican mixed division. Hearing other people’s stories and experiences on how they incorporate ultimate and Spirit into their daily lives and work for social justice was deeply inspiring. This reaffirmed our desire to stick with the idea of SotG as a powerful and necessary tool for social transformation, particularly focused on gender.
While we did not win the prestigious award, we did become ambassadors for Ultimate Peace. We want to honor this title by continuing our work towards equity in mixed ultimate, no longer just through scoring, rather developing a new project that is more structured. We want to grow our core team and hold spirit clinics, workshops, and other activities around gender in sports and ultimate specifically. We would especially love to work with young people, since a new generation of players is rising in Mexico, and we believe youth to be the motor for change in any community. We will make sure to pass on the discs that were kindly gifted to us by Ultimate Peace with the hopes of spreading them as spores of change.
At the end of the day, our experiment didn’t cause the massive ripple effect we dreamt of, but it helped plant a seed in our minds and in our ultimate community. A new way of understanding Spirit and an exciting new ultimate project are brewing in Mexico City.
The post Gender Equity and SotG: A Report from Mexico appeared first on Skyd Magazine.
from Skyd Magazine http://bit.ly/2RM25Ta
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Guilds of Ravnica Reprints & New Art
Guilds of Ravnica is an exciting set for a number of reasons, and not the least of those reasons is a chance to get all new art for some reprinted cards. It’s always one of my favorite parts of preview season: seeing which cards they picked for reprint, and ogling over the new art.
This time around, three reprinted cards kept their old art, which is a break from tradition for non-core standard sets. Chromatic Lantern, Goblin Electromancer, and Wee Dragonauts are all welcome reprints (Lantern in particular), but they all have somewhat iconic art already set on Ravnica, so it makes sense that new art wasn’t necessary.
As always, it critical to note that all Magic art is wonderful, and my preference for any one over another is just that: preference.
Let’s start with possibly my favorite piece of new art in Guilds of Ravnica. Honestly, this feels like somewhat of a random inclusion in the set, given that it doesn’t synergize or even particularly play well with any of the mechanics or guild strategies. That said, I’m absolutely stunned by this gorgeous piece of art by Igor Kieryluk. Igor has done a number of pieces for MTG over the years, and, for me, this will join the ranks as one of the most memorable and iconic. There’s a softness to this that’s powerful, evocative, and haunting. It’s beautiful.
He’s really good at these mist effects, no? Really fits into the film noir styling of the set.
Previous art (From now on, I’m just doing chronological, without ranking, but I’ll bold particular favorites of mine):
Guilds of Ravnica
Magic 2011
Y’know, I always feel like this card goes back way further than it actually does. First printing was in Ixalan, but it feels like a staple, and for good reason. This type of modal removal has been making a lot of appearances in Standard over the past few years, and I think they’ve been great successes. As for this art, it’s really a cool design. I love the perspective, with all the detail of the different city layers just barely visible below. The Ixalan version more clearly depicts action, but in some ways, the opposite is what makes the Guilds version shine. The calm in this piece is ominous, waiting for the strike with bated breath. Really excellent.
Simon Dominic is relatively new to MTG art, with a couple of pieces from Hour of Devastation being the first I could find. Even so, I really enjoy what he brings to the style. He’s got definite whimsy in his pieces (Experimental Frenzy is another of his from this set), and beautiful use of bold accent colors. His pieces have tons of detail, often with layers and layers of background to explore. Really fantastic.
Guilds of Ravnica
Ixalan
Dead Weight is a card with already existing art that’s pretty well known by Randy Gallegos. As much as I love that version, I find this new one by Lake Hurwitz to be really compelling. The perspective, with the ball & chain taking up so much space in the foreground, is really unique. And I love how well this evokes the spirit of the Rakdos cult, even though they’re not a major presence in this set. It’s a nice touch.
Guilds of Ravnica
Innistrad
I love this card. It plays really well in Guilds Limited, what with all the big Golgari & Selesnya cards running around. As far as the art goes, this new depiction is really flavorful. The Dimir slicing right through an Azorius statute is somehow both literal and figurative at the same time. I also really love the detail of the cathedral in the background on the right side. Amazing what can be done with such a monochromatic palette. Deruchenko Alexander has worked with monochromatic palettes before, just look at the gorgeous green jungle of Ornery Kudu or the ethereal purple light in Entreat the Dead. He also did the phenomenal Spell Pierce from Ixalan, one of the highlights from that set.
I do still love the original Khans of Tarkir version this one by Svetlin Velinov, with the Sultai Naga slicing through the Mardu banner. You can really feel the “disdain” in it.
Guilds of Ravnica
FNM 2015 Promo
Khans of Tarkir
Giant Spiders show up in basically every set, and there’s only so much variety in them. I do love the ominous nature of this one, with the skeleton remains of its previous victims in the foreground. Really sets the “recluse” tone of the piece, a little more so than the Magic Origins original.
Mike Bierek gets a piece or two in just about every Magic set, and with good reason. Many iconic pieces belong to him, perhaps none more so than the current version of Sol Ring you’ll find in every Commander deck. More recently, he’s done the fabulous Nexus of Fate Buy-a-Box promo, and one of my favorite Guilds of Ravnica pieces, Artful Takedown.
Guilds of Ravnica
Magic Origins
I’ll admit, this reprint completely flew under the radar for me, probably because I never played during Judgment. Ol’ Ironshell here gets his first treatment in modern borders. Kev Walker tends to prefer these close up perspectives, with very minimal, hazy backgrounds. Rather than detail a cathedral facade, as in Disdainful Stroke above, Kev merely suggests such a building in the upper-left corner of the background.
The focus on the beetle plays well with the flavor text, lending to the feeling of whimsy present in a lot of Kev’s recent pieces. This is the space where I think he truly shines.
Guilds of Ravnica
Judgment
Another recent reprint. Looks like they’ve settled on the White Pacifism effect they want for Standard at this point. This version, by Mark Behm, has a slightly fuzzy, almost impressionistic feel to it, particularly in the treatment of the floor in this room. Again, the flavor text enhances the fun & whimsy of the card, making it clear this is a theme they’re trying to play up when they have the creative space to do so. I love the idea of the Azorius trying to codify how to handle all the various bizarre Simic creatures they end up having to detain in this world.
Guilds of Ravnica
Rivals of Ixalan
This is another card that goes way back, all the way back to Tempest block. I love when they can reprint cards like this as periodic staple effects, decades later. The art is a first-time inclusion by Heonhwa Choe, and it’s beautifully done. I love this look at the Gruul, and a taste of what we can expect more of in Ravnica Allegiance. This is probably my favorite version of this card, and I hope we see more from Heonhwa Choe in the future.
Guilds of Ravnica
Conflux
Invasion
Exodus
This card makes a ton of inclusion in this set, so win for whoever put it in the card file. This new art really evokes the concept of the art, that all the members of the Conclave are lending their power to a single champion in a time of need. The color scheme of rich greens with the pops of purple is really gorgeous, and reminds me of Alex Konstad’s Merfolk from Ixalan (check out Jade Bearer for a sense of what I mean.) But what I especially love about his work is the incredible sense of motion. Just browse through his card art, and it’s really amazing how dynamic his pieces feel, so you can really get a sense of the action that is taking place.
Guilds of Ravnica
Rise of the Eldrazi
Of all the cards I expected to see reprints in standard formats, Narcomoeba was never one I really considered. And yet, it’s a perfect fit for Guilds of Ravnica, thanks to the Surveil mechanic. While the original art was intentional in its ambiguous location & time, the new one puts the architecture of Ravnica on gorgeous display. Howard Lyon is a master, and it shows in this piece. This art looks like it’s taken directly out of dreams. It has the quality of a beautiful piece of art from children’s literature, and I mean that in all wonderful ways. I particularly love the inclusion of the fishing person and his cat, which enhance the dream-like quality of the piece. I kinda want everything in my life to be done in this color palette.
Guilds of Ravnica
Future Sight
And yet again, the grand saga of Creature A vs. Creature B on Prey Upon art continues! This time, it’s some sort of Faerie vs a Giant Spider! (Maybe a Hitchclaw Recluse?) I do love the perspective on this one, staring up from the deepest bowels of the undercity. G-Host Lee has only done a handful of pieces for Magic (1 each set starting with Rivals of Ixalan), but they’re all excellent. One common threat I see with them is a great use of distance & perspective. Check out Storm Fleet Sprinter to really get a sense of what I mean. I definitely hope to see more G-Host art in the coming sets. As for Prey Upon, I like just about every version of this staple, but this one is one of my favorites.
Guilds of Ravnica
Explorers of Ixalan
Aether Revolt
Eldritch Moon
Innistrad
Righteous Blow is a card we haven’t seen in a while, though there are a lot of similar effects running around. This art by Izzy is really interesting, with the light source seemingly emanating from the weapon strike itself, as if they’re fighting in an otherwise dark space. I love a lot of Izzy’s art (such as the fabulous Radical Idea for this very set), but for this particular piece, I think I prefer the original by Clint Cleary.
Guilds of Ravnica
Avacyn Restored
Wizards seems to have taken the “Penis Wurm” issue seriously, since all the Wurms in Guilds of Ravnica have a decidedly less penis-like design to them. Siege Wurm showed up first in the Original Ravnica, and has been the poster-child for Convoke ever since. I really like this version by Filip Burburan, and it’s consistent with his “all of the teeth” aesthetic. (Seriously, the new Tarmogoyf for UMA is peak Burburan at its best.) Again, this piece also ties in nicely with the flavor text to create that more lighthearted tone that permeates the set.
Guilds of Ravnica
Ravnica: City of Guilds
Skyknight has been the signature Boros Common since its debut, and that’s not going to change this time around. It’s great to see Chase Stone making a Limited Common, since he is frequently tapped for Mythics, iconic characters & story moments. I love the vista of the city that you see here, though it didn’t read super well on card size, so it’s great to see the larger image here. The action of the knight, standing in the stirrups, gives the piece a ton of energy and excitement. One other thing I particularly like is the color palette of the piece. Previous Skyknights were aggressively Red/Orange in their artwork. Sometimes I like the art clearly evoking the “card color,” but sometimes it looks contrived. Here, he lets the Red & White of the Knight’s armor, the rooftops, & the Roc do the color-indicating work, while keeping the sky & clouds in a realistic palette. It really just elevates the whole piece. My only wish would be to see just a touch more of the mount he’s on, but I get that the focus is intentionally on the rider.
Guilds of Ravnica
Gatecrash
Ravnica: City of Guilds
The whimsy is real. Someone did a really great job pairing the art descriptions & flavor text in this set. This art gets better the longer I look at it. No surprise, Steve Argyle is the shit. Nuff said.
Guilds of Ravnica
Ixalan
Battle for Zendikar
Wall of Mist is a relatively new card, but it seems poised for staple status. This new art, by Tianhua X, has that surreal, dream-like quality that permeates this set. I love the tall spires climbing out of the mist. Tianhua X is relatively new to Magic Art, starting with some exquisite lands from Battle for Zendikar. He excels at creating pieces with unique perspectives, often slanted or climbing up at extreme angles. They heighten the sense of the fantastical in pieces like this, when at its core it’s simply fog in a city. Beautifully done.
Guilds of Ravnica
Core Set 2019
The Guildgates are all excellent this time around. I love the “front door/back door” design, as it helps to showcase different aspects of each of the guilds. They’re all really gorgeously done.
Guilds of Ravnica
Return to Ravnica
And finally, the shock lands. What trip to Ravnica would be complete without these? The art keeps getting better and better, and I don’t think any two exemplify this better than Temple Garden & Overgrown Tomb. The rich autumn colors in the Selesnya art is absolutely stunning, and I love the stone statues in the tomb, signaling the era of Vraska. Really beautiful pieces all around.
Guilds of Ravnica
Return to Ravnica
Ravnica: City of Guilds
Whew. So that’s it. Those are the reprints that got new art in Guilds of Ravnica. I’ll try to touch on some of the other noteworthy art on new cards in a future post.
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end-to-end, ch. 2
Word Count: 941 Pairing: Elliot Alderson/Jessica Jones Rating: G Warnings: Some alcohol references Summary: A particular type of encryption where a message is scrambled in a way that, at least in theory, only the sender and receiver—and no one else—can read it.
( READ ON AO3 ]
People don’t ask to be observed. There’s no waiver, no disclosure letting them know what they’re getting into. I knew everything I could about Jessica Jones. About her victimhood under Kilgrave, the car accident that led to most of her family’s death and adoption, the experimentation, even up to the return of her mother and the death that followed at the hand of her adopted sister.
This was normal for someone like me. What came from a want to eliminate awkward conversation was becoming a means of protecting myself.
Our mission—if we could call it that—was simple. Almost routine. A girl gets mixed up with a guy involved in a gang, and he tries using her as a source of income when they’re strapped for cash. A fake kidnapping scheme to get her parents to pay up. Simple, and easily foiled.
Too easily foiled. I was starting to see why Jessica preferred to go analog on these cases. It kept things interesting, fresh. Made me realize how being a hacker could make these kinds of things almost boring and routine.
Busting the Ron’s Coffeehouse owner of child pornography was one of those examples. I doubt her associate, Hogarth, would approve of something so presumably unlawful.
Unlawful. Plenty of people would call it vigilantism. Was that what I was? A vigilante? Was I Jessica’s sidekick now, or was she mine?
The police had come. They always did. Mobbing in their flotilla of flashing lights and blaring sirens to sound like they’d had a bigger hand in this than they really had. As if two individuals operating partially outside the law hadn’t done their job for them, but in their round robins of incompetence and secret rings of white supremacy, they’d pat themselves on the back on a coffee break well done. A mediocre reminder that they were somehow still relevant in a world vastly better off being self-governed.
Our tax dollars at work.
It was early in the morning that our work had finished, and late at night when everything had wrapped up. The fire escape we were perched upon reminded me of something from the Hardy Boys, maybe. Or maybe just a singular, childish want to sit beneath the stars. Except, in the city you rarely saw them.
Companionable silence was underrated. The idea that you could be by someone and still feel as though you were bonding without speaking is powerful. Something I could revel in, easily. Rather than fill the silence with how the weather was, you learned about each other. I wonder if Jessica felt it, too.
“You held yourself up better than I thought you would.” Her tone isn’t high with praise. Flat, but still—it was an achievement not to undersell.
“Lockpicking is almost natural to a hacker. At least the ones I know,” I replied after much thought, glancing over at Jessica. She didn’t seem particularly impressed, but I suppose it could be hard to be when she and others she knew literally had superhuman abilities.
“I wasn’t just talking about the lockpicking, Elliot,” she said with a small chuff. “I don’t like dealing with people who can’t pull their own weight around. I think I might be changing my mind. Might.” Particular emphasis on that word. That was fair. We weren’t exactly buddy-buddy. Maybe that might never really come to pass.
We were silent for a long moment, until the liquor in her paper-bagged bottle stopped swishing and she gazed distantly ahead, thoughtful. A car passed through the quiet street. Otherwise, it almost felt like it was just us two. But, a question hung in the air. Usually these kinds of silences were precursors to that.
“What is it like? The thing with you and Mr. Robot?”
There it was.
People tended not to ask. It was an elephant in the room, the denominator between normalcy and an uncomfortable closeness to what could go wrong in people. Like realizing deadly diseases interacting with us every day. Skimming your hand on boiling water but not willing to scald your skin off. Jessica had already been flayed. She understood.
“Sometimes, it’s like he’s in the room with me. Like he’s actually there. Interacting with me, with others—except, no one can really see him.” I felt a pressure at my temples. “…Sometimes, people can see him, too. Because it’s me. Sometimes, I don’t know if he’s controlling me, or if I’m just watching him. He’s been quiet lately. But, all I really knew is that he can’t get rid of me any more than I can, him.”
Jessica grew quiet as I told her, gaze blanking into the distance. I could only wonder what she was thinking, probably the obvious. Maybe I didn’t really want to know. Because getting in people’s heads can make you lose yourself.
And I’d already lost a lot to Mr. Robot. We were just learning to work together.
Maybe she was thinking about her own Mr. Robot. Kilgrave. Except, he existed, once. In a sense, he’d always be kept alive in her. Haunting her memories through the abuse.
Something in me wanted to touch a hand to her shoulder. I don’t think she’d like that.
So, I didn’t.
“…It’s cold. I’m going inside.”
I didn’t say anything, nodding mutely before gazing out at the street. Sometimes, a change of scenery from a computer screen was necessary.
The window slide shut, but it was unlatched.
A few more minutes. Maybe a few more hours.
I wasn’t really sure yet.
Something came out from tonight, I think. Maybe something good.
Only time would tell.
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First-ish Impression: Angelic Layer
Welcome once again to Paul is Weeaboo Trash!
Today’s topic: Angelic Layer (2001), based on three episodes.
I went to Saboten Con, an annual anime convention in Phoenix, AZ, this year, and I attended a panel on the history of the influential manga group CLAMP. Even if you’re not an obsessive or long-time otaku, or only really pay attention to anime, not manga, you may be familiar with them from works like the TV adaptations of Cardcaptor Sakura and its brand-new sequel Clear Card, or tangentially from Code Geass (which they did not write, but did design characters for), or perhaps from the work of theirs I’m by far most familiar with, Chobits. In addition to telling me some stuff I didn’t know about CLAMP’s members and catalog of works, the panel gave me a few promising things to add to my “to do” list, both for reading and for watching. One of which, it turns out, my wife owns and I’ve seen the first episode of before, but which I somehow entirely forgot about: the earlier series to which Chobits is the sequel, Angelic Layer.
Angelic Layer follows the story of Misaki Suzuhara, a middle schooler moving on her own to Tokyo to live with her aunt. As soon as she sets foot outside the train station, she is captivated by an enormous screen on a nearby building, showing footage of a fight during the championship of Angelic Layer, a sport where two players duel via remote-controlled robots called "Angels". She immediately feels the need to learn to play, rushes off to the nearest department store and, with the help of an enthusiastic random stranger (who is understandably mistaken for a kidnapper by a store employee), spends all of her money (including money set aside for local train fare from the station where she arrived to her aunt's place) on the beginner essentials for playing Angelic Layer. Including, apparently, a special purpose laptop preloaded with the necessary software.
The random stranger, by the way, is named Icchan, and he immediately takes an interest in Misaki as a player and teaches her the basics of the game. He is revealed to the audience to be a comedic relief-level eccentric who works for the company that makes Angels and runs the Angelic Layer tournaments. Misaki does not know this, which is bizarre and uncomfortable. His insistence on teaching her could be portrayed as reasonable and kind of endearing, except that she has absolutely no idea who he is or why to trust him, and does not seem to question that he keeps showing up to offer her his help, which alarms me, at least.
Anwyay, Misaki gets to work setting up her Angel, which she names Hikaru, modeling her on Athena, the winner of that first fight she watched. She even makes her own clothing for Hikaru, using what turn out to be experimental fabric samples given to her by Icchan. Who was supposed to bring them to a meeting. Oops. As of episode 3, Misaki has won a couple of pickup fights against other, much more experienced Angelic Layer players -- getting into those fights accidentally both times -- met both extremes of the spectrum of realistic gamers (from supportive veteran encouraging new players to the antisocial jerk bent on pwning noobs), and made friends at school who share her interest in the game. Icchan has even decided to sign her up (without her knowledge) for the upcoming tournament, for which she is technically eligible purely because of those pickup fights. And this is where I am now, staring down the prospect of a tournament arc.
Usually, I would dread this sort of thing, especially with the way we’ve seen Misaki start out playing so easily. I would be fearing the worst: an unreasonably talented competitor breezing their way through fights where the writers are inconsistent on or don’t bother to establish how their own narrative universe works as long as it furthers the plot goal of the main character winning... but Angelic Layer seems promising on this front. It really seems like it should be a lot harder for any player to pick up even the most basic controls of this game, but I guess that could be chalked up to very good thought-reading technology -- and there’s a pretty obviously-foreshadowed but technically spoiler reason I happen to already know for why Misaki in particular would be talented. But despite her too-easy start to the game, she also is shown winning partially through her opponents simply not anticipating her unusual choices, and more importantly, she is shown needing to actually learn new skills, which together make this angle not bother me as much as it otherwise could. So maybe the tournament will turn out more reasonably than such arcs have a reputation for.
One thing that tangentially occurs to me about the setting: I wish I could put myself into the mindset of the original audience in 2001 (or 1998, when the manga came out), to know how immediate this felt, or didn't feel, then. In 2018, it feels just around the corner. Thought-controlled computer interfaces, e-sports, personal robots... these used to be the realm of sci-fi generally, and probably more prominent in otaku circles than in Western-focused nerddom. Now they're things that get mainstream media attention, and there are even easily-available toys for small children based on customizing and programming robots. If not for the more fantastical elements of the sport as depicted (the energy ball thing in the first episode, for example), I wouldn't be that surprised if people started playing it IRL in a few years.
I’ll definitely keep watching, and I’m glad I went to that event to remind me how many CLAMP stories I need to start or resume.
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W/A/S: 2/2/5
Weeb: Because of what I mentioned above about the trajectory of nerd culture and technology, I think this probably used to be far far weeb-er when it came out than it is now. These days, probably the most foreign concept depicted is a minor being considered competent and responsible enough to take the train between two cities on her own.
Ass: Very little suggestive content, but still not something for small kids unless you want to answer uncomfortable questions about a couple jokes, e.g. Icchan realizing he's coming off as possibly perverted after he looks under Hikaru's clothing to examine her.
Shit: This is shaping up to be an interesting premise and enjoyable characters, but something is just... off... with the art, and I'm not whining because it's in a simpler art style than earlier CLAMP projects. I mean things like uncomfortably long still frames, eyes that look like they're in the wrong place, and inconsistency in character drawings between different scenes in the same episode, suggesting this was rushed. Finally, at my wife's insistence, I watched the dubbed rather than subtitled version for the first couple of episodes because she remembered it being pretty good, but some lines are just delivered with such awkward inflections that we questioned the competence of the direction, so, uh, add a full point of shit if you're watching that version.
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Stray Observations:
- Real life gamers like Kyoko, the player who challenges Misaki because she’s new and therefore presumably an easy target, are the reason I so rarely play online games. That and I’m bad at just about all of them.
- Speaking of gamers like that, do kids these days even say “pwn” anymore? I’m getting “old” by internet culture standards.
- Oh wow. I knew this was an old DVD, but I was still surprised when it had an ad for Newtype USA play before loading the menu.
#anime review#first impression review#except actually I've seen one episode before#CLAMP#Angelic Layer#weeaboo trash
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