#i really like the line weight changes and the value in this piece in general

[silverraindropliliacsky]

I saw someone else do this and now I want to share my opinion of this incredibly niche topic.

DRV3 cast as Homestuck God Tiers based on the attached diagram

Kaede Knight of Hope

Knights are both wielders and protectors of their class. Kaede's goal is to spark hope within everyone. Her memory keeps hope alive within Shuichi, and hope is her legacy.

Shuichi Prince of Void

Prince players destroy the concept of their aspect over time. When Shuichi starts the game he is the very embodiment of void, the absence of self. Over time he becomes more and more sure of himself, culminating in his dismantling of the entire game that brings nothing but misfortune and holds them all captive.

Rantaro Knight of Light

Another knight, like Kaede- but this time the aspect is light, knowledge. Rantaro fights to shed light on the situation they're in and within Rantaros' lore we unlock the final piece of information that Shuichi needs to solve the game. Rantaro is information, Knight of Light.

Ryoma Heir of Doom

One who inherits his own self-destruction. Doom is an aspect of sacrifice, illness, and over all bad vibes and Ryoma never pulls himself out of that ideology. To the very end he is his own misery, he is his own past.

Kirumi Sylph of Rage

Kirumi does not fail. (Usually) A Sylph has the power to take one thing and transform it into its opposite, and rage represents losing control. Failing. Falling. These are Kirumis' biggest fears, and her biggest downfall. As she attempts to change all the failures of the world, she loses control and the rage changes her instead.

Himiko Maid of Space

Himikos' talent of magic aligns perfectly with the space aspect, as this aspect is the closest thing to witchcraft the game has. Space players are very powerful and typically also quite reserved and distracted. Himiko is a faithful devotee to her beliefs and her sense of self. She blossoms throughout the game play and maintains a sense of home and belonging for Maki and Shuichi.

Angie Witch of Breath

Witches are very powerful and usually very unhinged, quirky individuals. The class allows one to manipulate or invert their aspect. Angie demonstrates this by seamlessly restricting everyone through her cult and her ideology hinges upon the idea that wanting freedom is selfish and wrong.

Tenko Maid of Breath

Contrary to Angie, the other breath player is one who values and encourages the aspect. Tenko is a faithful servant to the idea of freedom and always charges forward with her heart on her sleeve because of it. She inspires others around her to think for themselves and is generally just a very good and fair person. Her sense of maid allows her to relate to Himiko and want Himiko to open up more, while simultaneously putting her at odds with Angie who is actively working against that mind set.

Korekiyo Thief of Doom

Thief's take from one and give to another. Korekiyo spreads death and misfortune everywhere he goes in an attempt to gift his "true love" with that pain.

Miu Rouge of Light

Rouge are usually pretty wild-child in nature but have noble motivations. Light is information and assistance, and Mius main goals are to share her "incredible brain" with the world. She goes to extreme lengths all to make sure her inventions can help humanity.

Gonta Prince of Mind

The second prince, princes tend to hold a lot of weight in a story and are usually regarded as a critical point in a plot line. Gonta losing his memory, being persuaded by kokichi, and his general lack of knowledge on most common knowledge things lends him to the prince of mind role. His ignorance and selflessness causes his own downfall, and the story takes a huge leap from there as everyone is affected by this.

Kokichi Seer of Life

Starting off I knew I wanted Kokichi to be a seer, more than anyone else he has this ability to just look right through the other classmates. He cuts through BS like he's used to it and can easily see the core of who someone really is and what their intentions are. He senses when something is off and acts accordingly. Seer players are sarcastic, aloof, and play their cards close to the cuff. He may instinctively know a lot about the people he interacts with but you'd be pressed to get any of that information out of him.

Kaito Page of Heart

Kaito as a page of heart just makes sense. It's a passive roll and Kaito is a passive player. His murder was basically all someone else's idea down to the book of lines he was asked to read, and when faced with a real challenge he always folds. But, he also deeply believes in his friends and is a very sweet person. You want a Kaito type on your side, he will lift you up and encourage you to be the best version of you, no matter what.

Maki Heir of Blood

Aside from sounding cool AF, blood players are all about unity and keeping things together. At the start of the game Maki is a standoffish loner who believes she can never be truly close with anyone. Over the course of the game she strengthens her bonds so deeply, she falls in love, becomes Shuichis best friend, and is part of the surviving 3. Maki by the end of the game is the very embodiment of keeping everything together, as shown by her using the flashback light, attempting to rescue Kaito and even her offering to give everyone a quick and painless death.

Kiibo Mage of Mind

Unlike the coyness of a seer, mages are considered an active source of knowledge. And mind governs logic and consequences. Kiibo thinks more rationally than any other person in this game, he stays optimistic but also realistic. His critical thinking keeps him on track throughout the trials, and he is a very reliable source of information. His logical reasoning ability is what drives him to take action against the school itself, which proves effective in freeing the survivors.

Tsumugi Bard of Time

She destroys the time line. She also creates a new timeline, and then destroys everything in it.

I've ignored the gender discrimination.

[beepboopiloveyou]

Art is not a carriage, it's not a vehicle. Its purpose is not to be efficient, to do a practical job with as little effort as possible.

Oh okay, here we go into the ableist diatribe of "effort" and "blood sweat and tears" to justify art's "value" in our labor-centric capitalist society.

Art is wonderful, from a baby's first drawing, inexperienced and unskilled, to the paintings adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

I thought you just said art shouldn't be as little effort as possible? Do you think a baby scrawling with a crayon has any effort or intention behind it? (besides the obvious "this stick is cool and I like making cool lines on surfaces with it")

If you consider yourself an AI artist, I ask you: are you proud of yourself when the computer has completed another image that you will claim as yours? Do you look at it and feel the joy of having created something?

As an artist and designer that uses a stable diffusion tool, yes: after two hours of developing words that trigger the right understanding in the model set, weighting words so it properly picks up on certain details, configuring how far it can venture outside of the prompt, creating negative prompts to put up some guard rails, maybe utilizing a Lora for more style and subject focusing, making tweaks after every set of 4 come out, and then curating a final pack of images, yes, I look at it and feel joy that I created things.

Does the generative process teach you how to see the world better?

It teaches me how to envision and describe it better, yes. It helps me translate my mental images into art direction in a very fun way, like a thought puzzle.

With every image created, do you evolve?

I do! I get better at utilizing the GUI and I get faster at boiling down to what I want. I get familiar with different models and how they excel in different types of imagery (more painterly vs photorealistic, for example).

Do you understand the planes of the face better now than 1000 images ago?

Do photographers? Do poets? Do lighting designers? Do generative coders? Do cartoonists? The answer is yes, but in very different ways, so why does that matter?

Do you know what rim light is, and where to put it?

I just googled it, so thanks for the tip! Yeah I know where it goes now.

Do you understand light sources?

Here's a prompt for that:

"a polished ((glass)) pyramid sculpture (((refracting))) warm hazy (light) into a cozy bedroom during golden hour"

Tones?

Can you tell me an rgb hex value by looking at it? (this whole part is so gatekeepy btw)

Could you take a piece of paper and shade a portrait by yourself?

Yeah I did that a bunch for my BFA.

A digital artist uses a pen to put colors on screen, chooses where to put each brush stroke, when to smudge or use the liquify tool. A 3D sculptor manipulates basic shapes into characters just like a traditional artist molds clay. An AI "artist" doesn't make any of the thousands of choices that lead to the creation of a real piece of art.

Ahh, this is where you truly don't know what you're talking about. Inpainting, outpainting, using images as sources, training custom models, and literally any hardcore stable diffusion tweaking make these statements woefully ignorant.

"But art is hard, and I'm not good enough."

Art isn't hard, art is actually very easy. Like a baby that's drawing! "I'm not good enough" is toxic as fuck. "Good" is so so subjective. For most people what they're really trying to say is "there is a gap between what I'm imagining and what I'm rendering." "Good" shouldn't fall into that. "Good" is a trap. "Personally satisfying" should be what people aim for with their art. Fuck "good."

I've been drawing since I was a baby, and I still have a long way to go. And that is also fine, because art is a lifelong pursuit, growing, changing, just as I am.

I'll take this on the side of good faith because it honestly could sound more gatekeepy than not ("well I've spent my whole life doing art, how dare you dabble in it"). That's genuinely really awesome that you have that passion, man. This AI thing is one point in a lifetime's worth of human innovations that give ideas to artists for new work. 35 years ago, people were scanning themselves into Macintoshes and printing themselves out life size on dot matrix paper reels. 50 years ago, a woman led a performance piece involving scissors that changed the world. 60 years ago, people were photographing dirt trails that they formed themselves in the middle of nature. 100 years ago, a guy put a urinal sideways on a pedestal in a gallery and it's still talked about today. Art isn't just about illustration. And sometimes laborious effort is barely required to make good art.

You could draw a crooked circle on xerox paper and it will look better than all the AI art in the world. Because you made it. Have some faith in yourself. Your vision has more artistic value than what that computer generated.

The people who want to draw will still keep drawing. The people who want to casually prompt things will casually prompt things. The people who will utilize AI as a professional tool will continue doing so (it's now becoming a trend in concert visuals because of how naturally trippy it is). People make computers generate all kinds of beautiful things and there's no reason they should stop just because you prefer a pencil.

I'm trying. Are you?

"My art has effort. My art has provenance. I'm working hard at it. Hard work means value. Mine has more value. So you think yours is as valuable as mine? I've worked my whole life to make my art valuable. Since I was a baby. If it's not valuable, than what did I work so hard for??"

I dunno tbh. I don't think anyone can answer that except yourself. Art at it's most revered should be valuable to you. Anyone else is just a bonus. This isn't a competition. Or is it? Is everyone's art beautiful because they expressed themselves in a way, or are we going to shun the quadriplegic who has been more elated in the past year using midjourney than they ever were trying to paint with their mouth? Are we going to shun the pre-teen generating anime costumes who will develop an interest in fashion design? Fuck all that. Art is for everyone. Tools are for everyone. There will always be levels of bespoke craft and talent. There will also always be levels of thought, theory and ideation. Let people make their art. Let people be happy with their art. Just because AI reaches levels of talent that you worked hard on doesn't mean it's the same value. Value is meaningless. Focus on your art. Let others make theirs. I promise that whatever issues you're having with your art is a you problem, not an AI problem.

EDIT: and thanks for taking this off your reblogs 🤣

"Why are artists so butthurt about AI art? Horse carriage drivers didn't complain when they invented the car, they were just grateful that the technology evolved and made it easier to get around."

Art is not a carriage, it's not a vehicle. Its purpose is not to be efficient, to do a practical job with as little effort as possible. Art is not something that can be automated, because its artistry lies in the humanity of its creator. Art is wonderful, from a baby's first drawing, inexperienced and unskilled, to the paintings adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

If you consider yourself an AI artist, I ask you: are you proud of yourself when the computer has completed another image that you will claim as yours? Do you look at it and feel the joy of having created something?

Does the generative process teach you how to see the world better? With every image created, do you evolve? Do you understand the planes of the face better now than 1000 images ago? Do you know what rim light is, and where to put it? Do you understand light sources? Tones? Could you take a piece of paper and shade a portrait by yourself?

"AI software is just like Photoshop or Blender, the next step in artistic technology".

It's not though, is it? A digital artist uses a pen to put colors on screen, chooses where to put each brush stroke, when to smudge or use the liquify tool. A 3D sculptor manipulates basic shapes into characters just like a traditional artist molds clay. An AI "artist" doesn't make any of the thousands of choices that lead to the creation of a real piece of art.

"But art is hard, and I'm not good enough."

Neither am I! Man, I'm not the worst artist in the world, but I'm not great, still not at the level I would like to be. Sometimes I draw something and I look at it and realize that it sucks ass! Sometimes I post a drawing online and realize that I drew a character out of proportion, that the light source is not consistent, that I've shaded outside the lines! And you know what's great? That I get to have an understanding of what I did wrong! I get to evolve! I redraw something from 5 years ago and realize that my composition is much better, my shading more believable. And I know that in 5 more years, I might redraw it again and pride myself in how much I've evolved.

I've been drawing since I was a baby, and I still have a long way to go. And that is also fine, because art is a lifelong pursuit, growing, changing, just as I am.

It's okay to not be good. Hell, it's okay if you don't even try to get better. By drawing, you WILL. It's inevitable that, by practicing, you'll learn.

You know what will not make you a better artist? Software that will generate your "art" for you. The result might look more complex than what your skill level allows you to create right now. But it doesn't look better. You could draw a crooked circle on xerox paper and it will look better than all the AI art in the world. Because you made it. Have some faith in yourself. Your vision has more artistic value than what that computer generated.

"If you're afraid that AI will steal your job, learn to draw better!"

I'm trying. Are you?

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Do you have ideas on sharing body positivity with older family members? Last night I tried to encourage my mum that she didn't need to worry about her weight, and my nanna shut me down with "you're skinny so you've never had to worry about that". I wanted to be able to express: its okay to be fat - but I think because it's so beyond what get were taught my nanna and mum wouldn't get it from that angle.

I think if it were a deeper conversation maybe I could get somewhere but I was hoping you might have ideas on immediate things I could say in response to this kind of comment.

This is really hard! So many older generations are very set in the specific diet culture notions of their time. If you've been following me for a while, you might know that I come from a family that is like this, and that my mother is still actively embedded in diet culture.

I might try to have separate conversations with your mom and your nanna. If they were able to be in the same room without all of their own food-related issues bouncing violently off of one another, it would be more time-efficient to introduce body positivity to both of them at once, but I think you may actually get better results having in-depth conversations with them separately, and you might have an easier time having a heart-to-heart with your mom if your nanna didn't have the opportunity to shut you down. You could try and talk to her about how you worry that her constant self-hatred is doing her more harm than good, and how you hate to see her beating herself up over her body. Come at it from an empathetic perspective - tell her that, as it seems you are smaller than she is, you can see that it is really hard for her to accept living in a body that is constantly shamed and looked down upon, that people judge her for, that it is easy to judge herself for. But then ask her, is it really sustainable for her to live that way, mentally? Hating her body and being down on herself because of it? Let her know that you know things are not easy for her and that you're always going to love her for the person she is - that her value does not change for you at ANY size, and that you hope one day she feels that way about herself.

I can't remember where I saw it, but I once read a thinkpiece by a new mom who stopped body-shaming herself after she gained weight during her pregnancy when her daughter was a toddler. IIRC she was playing on the beach with her baby and her child wanted her to play in the water with her. She had to let go of a lot of insecurities in order to wear a swimsuit and play in the water with her daughter, but her baby - not yet old enough to understand diet culture - had a blast with her, and she realized then that her daughter didn't see her the way that everybody else did. She wasn't coming at it from a perspective of judging a woman for being fat in her swimsuit, she was just happy to have a mom who got in the water and made memories with her. One of the most beautiful lines from that piece of writing, one that stuck with me, was about how her hips, which had permanently widened after childbirth, now knew the perfect motion to soothe her baby to sleep every night as she walked with her on her hip. The point is, many people are particularly judgmental to fat women, and that's the first thing they see about her - that she's a fat woman. So I think your mom, who seems very stuck and mired in diet culture, might find the ideas of body positivity easier to embrace if you meet her where she's at. Explain to her that no matter what size her body is, to you, she is Mom. What do you love most about her? Does she love to laugh? Is she a devoted gardener, is she stylish, is she the kind of person who goes the extra mile for the people she loves? (I'm spitballing here - you can fill in the blanks on the qualities that make her who she is.) Explain to her that the people in her life who matter most will likewise see her in terms of her best qualities, rather than just a body. Many people who can't comprehend body positivity just yet find an easier time starting with body neutrality, or the idea that their body is just a body doing body things, no more or less deserving than the next body, and that they, as the person living in it, are so much more than just that body. Maybe at some point your mom may have an easier time embracing her body exactly how it is, but it might be easier to help her get there if you introduce the idea in baby steps.

With your nanna, I think you might try to explain to her flat out that you care about your mom's mental health. You might just flat-out tell her - if it is mentally healthier for your mom to believe, as you stated, that it is okay to be fat, then you do in fact want her to believe that. Say that in blunt, easy to understand terms. Perhaps you could then add that, as a thin person, your nanna is right that you do not understand the specific pressures faced by fat women. But what you do understand is that you don't want to see your mom live a life ruled by those pressures, and you want to see her happy NOW, not just in some hypothetical, skinnier future.

This was a really great ask! I hope this helps, and please let me know if there are any other conversational ideas I might be able to help with. Also, don't be discouraged if it takes a while for one or both of them to come around to body positivity. So many fat people are actively discouraged from embracing their bodies, and from allowing themselves to feel happy in the moment. It's seen as "giving up" or "letting themselves go" when they could "keep pushing" to attain that ideal. So your mom and your nanna may both feel that they just can't allow themselves to feel completely satisfied in their bodies until they have reached a specific body goal, regardless of whether or not that goal is truly healthy or attainable. Remember that healing does not take place overnight, and don't get too discouraged if you find yourself having to be a support long term in this regard. And please take care of yourself as well!

[tales-of-cerano]

How I Overcame Insecurity as a Growing Artist with the Power of Appreciation.

TLDR: When looking at other people's awesome art make an effort to point out specific reasons as to why you like it. Great if you struggle with comparing yourself to others.

I've been on and off of creating art for the past ten years (though I was always into creating something) and the one thing that I've struggled with greatly is looking on the beautiful artwork of others with both admiration and jealousy. Following every thought of "wow look at that, it's amazing" was "I could never do something like that." My insecurities and anxieties would hijack my brain and just make me feel awful while making it really easy for me to quit.

And I've gotten a lot of advice from a lot of people on the world wide web and real life.

-dont give up! You miss 100% of the shots you don't take

-your art is great too!

-you just need to keep practicing, don't worry about the others

And much more like that. But for some reason it never really sunk in or I would ignore it thinking that it applies to everyone but me. I think the problem with a lot of common art motivational speeches and tips on growth is that they don't come with a lot of action or direction on what to do.

I'm a doer, I've always been, so abstract general advice of "keep trying" was never very effective for me. What really helped me was giving myself something to do when I saw art of others.

Whenever I see a piece I really like I force myself to go through it top to bottom, left to right and pick out everything I like about it. I look for very specific reasons as to why I think this piece looks cool or pretty or particularly interesting. Make sure you don't bring up yourself or your abilities when doing this. Pretend you are a curator looking to add a piece to your home collection. "oh I love the color pallette they chose" "they did a really good job on their typography" "that's some good use of line weight" A few great things come out of this simple change in mindset.

1. It gives my brain something to do so I don't go instantly to putting myself down. I think a lot of my personal insecurities come from boredom. Active minds need something to do or else they implode.

2. I appreciate art for what it is more. Instead of just simply thinking the other person is better than me I focus on why I find something beautiful. The value comes from concrete opinions rather than comparisons.

3. I put my ego on the back burner which makes me more open to others and the world as a whole. In a weird roundabout way the reason my brain comes up with why I'm never going to be good enough is to protect itself (from others saying it first or from trying with no success). Dr. K at healthygamergg helped me a lot when it came to understanding how ego can play a big role in insecure thinking. I highly recommend listening in on any of his streams/YouTube videos. Focusing on yourself (ego) when looking at other people's art just makes things worse.

And there it is, my only real art advice I feel like I can give. Thanks for sticking around if you made it this far. I hope this helps anyone else struggling with these feelings. If you have any advice please reply/reblog! I'd love to hear anything you got.

[iamanartichoke]

I was going to reblog this post but my response got long and I didn't want to spill meta all over someone else's meta, so I'm just going to make my own post about this topic.

So this is about the points @stellophia brought up; namely, the frustration with the narrative:

On the "the writers aren't making this clear" note, this begs a question that I've been wondering about since week 1 and it doesn't really require an answer, because I don't think there is one but I'm gonna toss it out there anyway -

At what point do we, collectively as an audience, determine that the writers have made X thing or Y thing Clear Enough? Where is the line drawn between "the writers have not made this explicit enough, so the narrative fails" and "the writers have given us enough for us to draw our own conclusions, there's only so much they can do" - and is one option better than the other?

Like, I don't know. A lot of things that seem to be causing the biggest reactions (positive, negative, whatever) are things that, yes, the narrative doesn't make explicit, but I feel like some of it isn't explicit on purpose. @stellophia 's tags mention that you (the viewer) have to take a step back and think for a second, and I guess I am not sure why that's being considered a bad thing (if it is; I'm not trying to put words in your mouth, stellophia).

I mean, when it comes to establishing the setting and the plot, yes, the narrative does need to be more explicit. It's not being made clear, for example, whether or not the TVA is Bad (I think that the subtext on that is as subtle as a flashing red light, but that's just me). "Because they were supposed to" is a shit explanation, both in-universe and out, for why the Avengers aren't in trouble for their time-meddling. Things like that, yes, please make it clear for us bc a majority of us don't know wtf is going on with all of that.

But, when it's coming to character development and interactions? There's some things that the narrative shouldn't have to spell out for us. I thought it was obvious that Mobius was interrogating Loki, for example; I also thought it was obvious that most of what he said was said for a purpose, to get a rise out of Loki, to push him to the breaking point. I don't believe that Mobius believes most of the terrible things he was saying (although I will never forgive "you killed your mother," idc why he said it).

I mean, maybe I've just watched too many detective procedurals with this same scene over and over again - that is, the police pushing and pushing to get a clue or a confession, saying whatever they need to in order to break the case - but it never even occurred to me that anyone would interpret that scene differently until I came online and saw all the various takes, and then I was like - ??

And I'm not saying that if something isn't obvious immediately, then you're not doing a good job at interpreting the material. What I am saying is that more often than not with this show and its characters, it feels to me like the writers are putting the clues in there and leaving it up to the audience to figure out how we should feel. They're tossing us some clues and hints like puzzle pieces and saying here, put these together, and there are a few variations on the final piece and you can approach it however you like, but we're not going to put together the puzzle for you.

In regards to Loki's general behavior, I see a lot of posturing and putting on a show; he's not being himself, he's trying to give Mobius and the TVA the illusion that he's unaffected and in control, particularly after having shown all of his vulnerable cards last week in front of a total stranger. (FWIW, I don't think that he's really succeeding at this, and it's kinda clumsy for the Loki we know, but I don't for a second think that Loki has just changed, overnight, into a whole new person. I think a lot of the clumsiness (cringeyness) is on purpose, sorta.)

I feel like there's a lot that the narrative is saying about Loki in general, without coming right out and saying it. Like, instead of taking his over-the-top posturing at face value and saying it's ooc, why aren't we giving more weight to what Loki does and how he feels in the moments when he's alone or when he thinks no one is watching? Why aren't we examining some of the things he says and ask ourselves, hmm, I wonder where that's coming from; I wonder what he means by that; I wonder what his ultimate goal is here.

In trying to make heads and tails of Loki here, one of the things I'm looking at is the different ways he interacts with different people:

He's defensive with B-15, for example; his tone of voice when he was explaining to her that he used magic to dry off can only be described as withering.

With Mobius, there are a lot of different hats he tries on, so to speak, but I don't think that Loki trailing after Mobius like an excited puppy should be given more narrative weight than Loki being curiously inquizitive about Mobius's interest in jet skis, or the way he sounds - absolutely certain, as someone who's seen Some Shit - when he says, "I know something that children don't."

And when he first encounters the variant, he's very collected and measured, choosing his words carefully and only getting annoyed and/or snarky when they start "fighting." (I, too, could do without the one-liners in the heat of battle, tbh.)

My point is that the way Loki's "personality" changes depending on who he's interacting with and in what context is a pretty big clue, to me, that we can't take everything he says or does at face value. And that having seen him acting in all of these different ways while only being two episodes in, it makes me feel like we haven't even begun to see Loki's entire characterization in this show and how he'll approach what's coming next.

This just circles me back around to: where is the line drawn between a narrative failing (which Avengers was, in a lot of ways, and the show may turn out to be as well but it's too early to tell) and narrative subtext that maybe isn't being made clear on purpose? At what point do we, as the audience, say hey, let's work for this a little bit. Stello's tags mentioned that a lot of things are going to be lost on the casual viewer and I agree that that's the case, but none of us are casual viewers here.

Again, I don't know if there's a correct answer to this and a lot of this is just speculative and is not aimed at any one argument, interpretatation, or person. These are just "food for thought" thoughts.

[lil-tachyon]

Your art has such a moebius like quality that i always struggle to replicate. Do you have any tips you could share?

Hey thanks for the question! I’m a complete amateur and Moebius is, in my estimation, one of the most skilled visual artists of the last century so please take everything I have to say with a grain of salt while I answer your question. This all comes from my own experience and I am still learning. 

First of all my main piece of advice for anybody drawing anything: if you want to get good, assume that you know nothing, start from the beginning, practice fundamentals, and draw every day, even if it’s just for like 15 minutes. No amount of art advice is worth anything if you don’t draw.

Now to address your question about how to replicate a ‘Moebius-like Quality,’ I would say what you need to do is study him very carefully.

When I first started drawing seriously and getting super into Moebius and all that I made the mistake of thinking “Okay, this is just simple lines and bright, mostly flat colors underneath. Not too hard to replicate.” Which couldn’t be further from the truth. Moebius’ art has this thing about it where it can often appear really simple but you try to recreate it and you find yourself hitting a wall. Let’s look at an example:

This looks like what I said, right? Clean lines, striking color palette. But there’s more to that. First of all, the fact that the gigantic flat black shape at the bottom of the piece conveys simultaneously the impression of the girl on the left leaning against the chest of the central figure and the boy on right fading into the back of composition while not containing any detail itself should clue you in to how much of a master good o’l Gir is and how much thought and knowledge had to go into designing this piece. There’s more.

If we zoom in on the head we can learn a bit. This is the focal point of the piece and, as such, this is where all the detail is. Where lines are used sparingly throughout the rest of the comp, here they provide an abundance of detail for the central figure’s elaborate headdress with contour lines defining the shape of the yellow crest and other lines throughout intimating textile patterns. The colors are striking but they’re not just random bright colors.

There’s the light blue of the background, a smattering of desaturated purple/red colors in the headdress, and the yellow of the crest. Let’s look at a color wheel:

You should notice that yellow is on the opposite side of the wheel from the entire blue-purple section. Yellow contrasts with blues and purples. Thus, just that tiny bit of yellow is enough to make it totally pop out from the rest of the more desaturated blues and purples in the piece. So, not just some random bright colors, but some carefully thought out areas of low and high color contrast.

Let’s look at another example:

A small piece but so effective. Notice how in the top, the horizontal lines begin super tightly packed and spread to create a gradient from pack to white. Notice how the line weight increases between the shadowed and light sides of the mushroom cloud to brilliantly indicate a core shadow. Notice how the horse and rider are mostly just black shapes- but they’re composed in such a way that your mind knows exactly what they represent. Notice how the hatching that creates the ground texture also points towards the cowboy’s head as a focal point.

Another one:

Look at the linework on this. The way he varies the lineweights to indicate changes in value. The way each line describes the form of the figure and his clothes. How the lines create texture. No line here was put down by chance- each one has a purpose and Moebius knew the purpose of every mark he put on a paper.

So, I guess part one of my answer is you gotta really put the work into being a good artist and use Moebius as your guide. Get good with pens, be able to vary your lineweights, be confident with all different kinds of hatching styles, etc. Read up on color theory and see how Giraud applied it. Every new thing you learn, take that knowledge and use it to study your favorite artists and see how they applied it. That’s how you learn.

There’s a little more though and this applies to the content of Moebius’ art.

Here’s a side-by-side comparison of the Moebius’ concept art for the unmade 1970’s Dune movie with a screenshot from the new Dune movie. What makes them different? As bizarre as the Moebius design is, it feels a hundred times more real to me than the armor pictured on the right. There’s a specificity to it. Where the Moebius design feels like the result of generations of tradition and culture resulting in an outfit as elaborate, unconventional, and distinctive as that of an Ottoman Janissary, a Landsknecht, or a Samurai, the image on the right looks like a generic assemblage of armor plates with no history behind them. 

As fantastic as Moebius’ work is, it definitely has a basis in the real world. I mean, he spent years illustrating a gritty, down-to-earth cowboy comic. All his designs feel distinct and specific and I would venture to say that a lot of that comes from taking an interest in real world cultures and traditions. 

I think this is true of all real good science fiction and fantasy artists. They know how to take something from the real world and twist it to their own ends. 

I hope this answers your question and helps you find joy in creating art. That’s what it’s all about.

For more reading, here’s a William Stout article on the subject: https://www.williamstout.com/news/journal/?p=3806

As a postscript, I’ll include some other artists that I think anyone who is a fan of Moebius should check out.

Sergio Toppi:

Katsuya Terada:

Katsuhiro Otomo:

Mark Schultz:

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 134

Since I am queueing this chapter the same that I queued the last one, I just want to say:

If you have found my story in the last week, and liked it, thank you. It makes me smile when that happens.

If you shared my story with others, and they liked it, or even found a little bit of themselves in it, I’m very glad. Thank you for sharing something with your friends that they enjoyed.

As always, thank you to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being my ports in all storms and the family everyone deserves to have.

Annnd the podcast. Don’t miss the podcast!  I don’t profit from it in any way, shape, or form, but the idea of a version of this story that is more accessible for people who would struggle to read it is something that should always be supported! 

A week later, I was wincing and out of breath when I reached my office for the day.  Tyche had enthusiastically agreed with Arthur’s suggestion, and after some tests from Maverick showed that I could apparently kick hard enough to break a grown man’s pelvis - although not without also breaking my foot - I had been expected to be in the gym for nearly two hours every day.  My legs hurt and my feet looked worse than the time I tried to learn ballet en pointe.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was also apparently very slow in reacting with my legs as a result of years learning to fight with, you know, my hands. Like a normal person.  This meant I was also wearing five pound weights on each ankle, all day, including when sparring.

So far, the only thing I had noticed was a demonstrably shorter patience and a reduction in how much I bounced my legs. Or sat comfortably.

I was so absorbed in my bad mood and how badly my legs hurt that I had already gotten coffee, greeted my mentees, and sat at my desk before I noticed something out of place.  As usual, Parvati and Hannah were across from each other at the table they typically sat at, but Parvati was standing and demonstrating something.

While using the table emitter, which they only ever used for my benefit.

Tilting my head in what probably looked like what Sparkle’s expression when she was denied a treat, I watched as Parvati picked up a vaguely pen-shaped object - it really looked more like a sonic screwdriver than a writing implement - and started making neon pink lines of various widths, swirls to test the slant it would make, and using it at various speeds before closely considering the color of each line.

“What in the world is that?”

“Paint testers,” Hannah explained. “Charly dropped them off with Vati last night, along with the programming to simulate how they work so we could test them with an emitter and not a wall.”

“Paint?”

“For the Festival. Charly designed these for us to use instead of trying to get permission to use actual spray paint.  The fumes of spray paint are apparently very caustic to Noah.”

I shuddered. “Yeah, no spray paint, clearly.”

Apparently satisfied with the pink, Parvati keyed her datapad to clear the emitter and picked up a different pen.  This one was a beautiful lapis blue. “She’s quite brilliant,” she murmured as she tested the pen. “The pens work like an airbrush, but she took some inspiration from something Arthur Farro gifted her several years ago and ensured the pigment will only last three Ark-days.  It also only appears under certain lighting.”

“And it’s non-toxic, of course,” Hannah added with a smile. “Because, you know… Charly.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “How non-toxic are we talking?”

To my utter horror, rather than respond, Parvati opened her mouth and used a different button on the pen to paint her entire tongue blue. “They’re edible.” She closed her mouth with a smile before her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! That one is pomegranate!”

Hannah furiously made notations on her datapad before looking back up at me. “Vati already tested them on canvas in her quarters, but we also wanted to make sure the simulation software works so that we don’t waste pigment trying to figure out the design elements.”

“We’re also rather curious about what flavor each one is,” Parvati admitted before swapping to a toxic-looking green. “This one is peach, I do remember that. The pink was popcorn.”

I shook my head. “Do you want people licking the walls? Because this is how you get people to lick the walls.” I walked over as I was speaking and idly picked up one that was labelled as Titan Black.

Hannah snatched it away quickly. “That one is scotch bonnet flavor. I found that out the hard way.”

“I get making them non-toxic, but why are they flavored?” Hannah arched an eyebrow at me and I held my hands up defensively. “Other than the obvious application. Why design flavored paint pens for the Food Festival murals?”

Parvati blanked the emitter again and swapped pens. “That is going to be part of the design and experience,” she started to explain. “We originally wanted them non-toxic in case of the non-zero event that Else tries to eat the paint off the walls.” I nodded since ‘non-zero’ was putting it lightly. “Then I had the idea to include the possibility of Else eating the mural into its design.  Rather than worry that Else will eat it, I am planning on it: I am going to create a piece that changes as the various colors are devoured.”

“Annnnnd how do you plan on controlling what order Else eats everything in?”

She waved to the row of pens on the table. “These are each in a flavor that we know Else likes. I am currently testing in my quarters what the order of preference is.”

As my mind started to catch up, I started nodding. “Your test swatches last night.”

“Precisely. I have them laying out in a grid, easily accessible to Else, and they are being monitored. We will take the recording and determine what the order of preference is from there.”

I shook my head with a huge grin. “That’s one hell of a performance art piece.”

Hannah straightened her posture in an imitation of Pravati’s normal ramrod-straight demeanor. “There is nothing more fitting for a celebration of how humanity persists in surviving, despite how transient and brief life can be, along with a clear showing of how we intend to welcome and embrace the differences between ourselves and those most different from us - even those who once nearly destroyed us but wished to make peace.”

“That’s frighteningly good,” Parvati praised nonchalantly as she squirted a fluorescent yellow into her mouth. “It makes no sense for that one to taste of something spicy.”

I took the pen and forced myself to spray it in my mouth. I perked up when it was actually very familiar and delicious. “It’s gochujang…” They both looked at me skeptically. “Apparently Else likes spicy food?”

“I’m starting to think this is how she flavors her popcorn,” Hannah murmured.

My head shook on that one. “No, all her popcorn is decidedly popcorn-flavored. The coloring is added while it is being made, along with the flavoring. Same thing with her ice-cream, and with the candy bars.”

“I agree,” Parvati added. “This pigment is quite wet, it would never work on something like popcorn.” Pausing in her testing, she turned to me. “She has made popcorn in your quarters before, did you notice how she colored it?”

I thought back to the movie night, fighting through how nostalgic and relaxing it made me feel. “It has to be a high-saturation powder.  Other than the actual oil she used to pop it, everything she put in was powdered.”

“But it was toffee popcorn,” Parvati argued. “I remember because it was such a lovely shade of purple.”

Hannah and I both glanced at each other before turning concerned looks to Parvati. I was the one who eventually spoke. “You make toffee popcorn by adding sugar and salt while it’s being popped, Vati. Both are powders.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she demanded with a scowl before picking up a pen.

I looked back at Hannah, who was as baffled as I was. “Vati? Do you cook?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. Xiomara is a brilliant cook, why would I give that up?”

“But you know how, right?” I prodded. “We always have cooking classes going on here.”

She decidedly ignored us.  I gaped at Hannah, who eventually crowed with laughter. “Oh my god! We found something Vati doesn’t know how to do!”

“Xio does make a wicked roti with veg curry,” I tried to defend her. If she was deflecting, Parvati clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“And I can cook,” Parvati argued. “I can roast meat, and forage edible plants, and clean them both.”

“Works for me!” I chirped, trying to defuse the situation before Parvati actually got upset. “If you can cook enough to feed yourself in an apocalypse, I consider that a solid fundamental basis.”

Hannah finally took the hint. “Well, if you ever want to learn more, gods know you have plenty of friends who can teach you. Hell, Sophia taught Maverick to cook, and when they first met he had a very iffy relationship with the concept of food in general.”

That got me a look. “He had been through a lot, okay? You spend thirty years with everyone blaming your sensory issues with food on just ‘being picky’,” I used air quotes for emphasis, “and yeah, you start living on the three foods you like and a lot of vitamins and protein drinks.”

Parvati stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head toward me before taking a seat. “How did someone who doesn’t even eat to live end up with two people who live to eat?”

I felt my face heat up, but managed to limit my reaction to a shrug. “If he said he didn’t like something, I took that at face value and didn’t make him eat it. If he never had it, I thought really hard about how similar it was to things he did or didn’t like, and offered it to him - or didn’t -  based on that.  I never took it as a challenge I needed to make him overcome, just as a challenge I needed to rise to.”

She considered this for a moment, glancing to Hannah who nodded in confirmation, before speaking. “This is why you cook.” It wasn’t a question. Parvati stated it as a fact.

And I confirmed it was, indeed, a fact. “One of the few things Huynh and I agree on is hospitality. I don’t want anyone to come to my table and feel they can’t eat.  It’s how I was raised.  There will be food they like, and plenty of it.”

I heard a popping noise from Hannah’s direction, and turned only to realize that it was her neck popping when she turned from Parvati to me.  Eyes wide, she was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s why the Food Festival is so important to you…”

It took several attempts and a lot of nodding to swallow the lump in my throat. “We were all scared, and all strangers in this insane reality that we weren’t even sure was actually real.  I thought - knew - it would ground us, and even start uniting us. If we could all see that arroz con pollo, paella, chicken biriyani, chicken etouffee weren’t all that different? What’s more familiar than chicken and rice, or fried puffs of dough, or pancakes?” I shook my head. “I remember my first day on the Ark. I was in a mess hall, and even with my sister and cat, I knew I was luckier than most but so lost.  I just - “ I gulped and fought back tears. “I wanted shepherd’s pie so bad it hurt my soul. And I tried and tried to get it from the food consoles, and it was never the right thing. I must’ve tried eight times. It was so frustrating!” I didn’t catch myself in time to keep from slamming my fist a couple times on the table. “I felt even more lost.  Someone came up to me and asked what I was doing.” 

I took a deep breath to banish the concept of Arantxa from my head. “And dragged me to Conor because she realized that what I was saying and what she was hearing weren’t the same thing.  That’s how I actually met him. And, bless his face, he knew exactly what I was asking for and got it for me if I promised to help him get French toast, of all things.”  The memory made me smile. “Believe it or not, that moment mattered more to me than even waking up on the Ark when I should have been dead. Just… the idea that this person who knew nothing about me except what I wanted for dinner, was able to fix that lost feeling.  I want everyone to have that.”

Parvati was staring at me like she was watching the most romantic story in the world, but at least Hannah nodded seriously. “Steak and ale pie. I always want that when I’m stressed.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly. And multiply that by every type of steak and ale pie anyone can possibly make on the Ark? I know I don’t have to convince you two to keep the Festival anymore, but yeah.  That’s why it matters so much to me.”

I turned to Parvati, who was drumming her fingers and looking down somewhat sheepishly. “Most cultures have a kind of curry, so I never really thought about it,” she admitted. “But it makes sense, from that perspective. I never thought about it.”

Reaching out to pat her hand, I gave her a serious look. “That doesn’t mean you have to learn to cook anything more than what you already know,” I assured her. “It’s my motivation. No one else’s. If you ever want to learn to make something you don’t know how to, I’ll be happy to teach you. If you never want to learn how to make anything you don’t know how to, I will be happy to cook for you. Just… don’t ask me to bake? That’s a Tyche thing.”

She groaned. “Those mini black forest donuts….”

“Exactly. Don’t ask me to make them, I’ll ruin them ten times out of ten,” I laughed.

“She should make donuts for the Festival,” Hannah suggested wistfully. “Do you think we could talk her into it?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking her to do it, so have fun.”

“But you’re her sister.”

“How the hell do you think I know not to ask?” I gave them both a flat stare that set them giggling. “Donuts for the family? Fine. Donuts for the whole entire Ark? Not touching it.”

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[chromotps]

🤝🤝🤝 it really is fun to discuss and like, work through these feelings.... I ended up writing a lot about One Piece as a show and its tone, which is one of my favorite things to ramble about, so, you know! thanks for the opportunity. ahaha

omg I felt the same re: "frustrated that Ace's death wasn't really mentioned post time-skip until Dressrosa really". Like, I get that the time-skip was meant to speed up Luffy's training as well as his grieving, but I was still kind of unprepared as a viewer to enjoy things like the Sabaody reunion and Fishman Island Arc. Maybe it would've been different if I hadn't been bingeing the show and instead had been watching/reading it week-by-week? That way as a fan we'd have had time to process, like Luffy did... but...... hmmm :\\

I don't want to spoil too much (I'll try to be vague!!!), but there are a few other characters that die in later arcs, but to your point, they're mostly side characters, and especially ones that feel like part of the "older generation".

Mmmm regarding Ace's death as a "punishment" I'm still uncertain... Like, I think Oda maybe meant to frame it differently (but didn't execute it 100% perfectly, since some fans clearly walked away from Marfineford blaming Ace for what happened :[ ). Oda gives a few current-timeline characters (like Whitebeard!) deaths that focus on how they were taking a stand for honor/the ones they love/an ideal they had/etc, and those deaths seem like badges of honor in a weird way? I know that's a terrible way to word it, but I'm having trouble getting at it--but it's that thing that shounen manga does a lot, where honor is such a tangible virtue that dying with integrity (especially in some badass show of strength) is framed as more valuable than living with ''''cowardice''''.

(Which makes me think about the toxic masculinity in a lot of shounen stories, when they frame being "tough" as better than being "weak"/vulnerable/asking for help. Though I'm generalizing like, a tonnnnn here 😅. But still, in a One Piece world where there wasn't so much emphasis on characters shouldering suffering alone to be manly (thinking of like, Zoro insisting on taking Kuma's pain thing instead of Sanji, or... some more stuff in Wano I don't want to spoil 😂)—in a One Piece world like that, Ace wouldn't have ended up in that final predicament anyway!!)

I very much agree with everything you said about Luffy's Journey... especially "we're told that it adds weight more than we're shown that it does". Like, Sabo's post-timeskip actions fit with that too—we get one quick, and admittedly very heartbreaking scene of him becoming aware of Ace's death......... and then he's fine! Ready to go kick some ass and protect Luffy and do what needs to be done. Though, again, this kind of feels like a One Piece... trait? I don't want to say flaw, bc tbh I like the overall tone of One Piece, but a lot of characters (Nami, Sanji, Robin, most SHs 😂) go through deeply traumatic things and then act just kind of... "normal" within a couple episodes? I guess? Anyway, it would have hit a lot harder/more effectively if we did get just a little more direct evidence of Luffy being changed.

But thennnn like........ I don't know if it would still feel like One Piece at that point! Like, I saw some bit of trivia that I'm 65% sure is true, that Oda confirmed in one of those Q&A things, that Luffy has nightmares about Marineford. (actually, there's a one-off line about Sabo having nightmares, too!) That detail's incredibly touching and adds so much depth, but I also do think I'd be kind of put off if I actually saw something like that in an episode of the anime. Like, OP walks this weird line by having some intensely dark moments, but never giving them too much weight/attention so that the optimistic tone is carefully preserved. Comparing it to a show like Attack on Titan (which I stopped watching bc I honestly got sick of characters being killed off for shock value and people thinking that was good writing), I'd much rather have One Piece's manner of showing death and grief...

ajksgldfh I keep saying this and then waffling, but ok yes. 100% agree about Ace and Worth. Like, through a shounen manga lens, I can see Oda really thinking Ace had a full satisfying emotional arc. But when you start applying anything even slightly more nuanced to it/more modern thinking, he clearly had so much hurt left to resolve. Totally heartbreaking, totally agree, ugh.

Hm!!!!! What you said about the live action!!!!! god part of me is terrified for my heart if they do make it to the Marineford Arc, and the other part of me is terrified they won't. 😂 But dang it'd be cool to see an Oda-approved........ alternative? Or just, yeah, what changes would they make, considering they've already tweaked a few other plot points to make them stronger or more appealing to a more modern audience!!

I just watched MelonTeee's video on Ace and Worth and man the internal debate I have with myself on whether I agree with the choice or not...

Her video explains the fandom's love for the character so well, as well as why the tragedy hit so hard. For me personally I have not been that affected by a character death in a LONG time.

And I understand it from a certain narrative perspective – mainly how Ace's past continues to feature in the story a decade later, and Whitebeard's line that someone would carry Ace's flame, because that clearly describing Luffy. He goes after the mera mera no mi and finishes what Ace started in Wano.

But there are two major narrative reasons given for Ace's death that I disagree with. And are largely why I think it shouldn't have happened, and also why the death has hit me so hard.

This is going to get long, but I would really love to hear everyone's thoughts on it if you choose to read!

To give Luffy the push he needed to be stronger: I am pretty confident this is Oda's stated reason (in addition to Oda wanting to prove he could kill characters which I guess he said at one point and which is bleh). Anyway. That push already happened on Sabaody when Luffy lost everyone to Duma. He was HELPLESS. More helpless than he was through most of marineford. And when Rayleigh convinces Luffy to do the 2 years training, Rayleigh only brings up their epic defeat on Sabaody. He does not bring up marineford or Ace's death as a reason Luffy needs to get stronger. Because Luffy did not need that reason. The only argument I can think of is that maybe once he landed on Amazon Lily, and he realized the strawhats were likely alive, the terror he felt on Sabaody abated slightly. And therefore maybe he needed a reminder of what "loss" truly is to re-motivate him. However, I don't think that is really fitting with his character or the story.

Ace's dream was fulfilled: Oda has talked about the reason he doesn't kill villains is because not having your dream fulfilled is a worse fate than death. I think part of the tragedy of Ace's death was that his dream wasn't fulfilled. Even for those who accept his last words - that he had only one regret which was not seeing Luffy accomplish his dream - the amount of time he got to live with that dream was literally the last moments of his life. But I don't think just because you die with no regrets, does not mean your dream is fulfilled. Especially when Ace never truly internalized what his dream was. His final choice to turn around showed HOW MUCH he still was that lonely, scared little kid he was at 10 despite his warm smile and his growing family. The most heartbreaking part of the flashback was not Sabo's death. It was watching Ace asking the question "do I deserve to exist?" and giving all his devotion to those who said yes. It was him making the exact same decision he would make 10 years later, to refuse to run, because he felt like if he ran he would lose everything and Luffy was standing behind him. Ace's final words do more than state he has no regrets. He also gives the answer to the question he'd asked Garp, and that Garp had said only his actions could decide. Ace died thanking Luffy and his family for loving him despite the "worthless" or "good for nothing" person he was. Ace was moved to tears to hear his family emphatically saying "YES. You do deserve to live! We want you to live!" But Ace never actually believed it. His last words were a reflection of gratitude for the love he was given that he didn't feel he deserved. And thus his final answer to the question "Do I deserve to exist?" was no.

That he was too "good" This is kind of the most upsetting one I've heard (thankfully not a lot) and also the one easiest to dismiss. Ace, being the actual son of the pirate king, being super powerful, growing in strength and reputation faster than Luffy (debatable), put him narratively in competition with Luffy. What I mean by that is it positions him as too much the golden character, the mary sue, the typical protagonist, when One Piece is about Luffy's story, not Ace's. I disagree with the premise of seeing Ace's character that way. But also even he was "that" character, it's pretty clear Ace's dream would have taken him to becoming Whitebeard's heir - whose dream it was to build a family - while Luffy is Gol D Roger's heir. So Ace's journey would have supported the main story of One Piece and also be narratively satisfying.

---

What Was Ace's Dream?

The dreams Ace stated out loud were more reflections of his actual, deeper dream. "I want to be the king of the pirates" - because he wanted to prove his existence and his worth to the world. Which switched to "I want to make whitebeard the king of the pirates" - because Whitebeard loved him despite his blood, and so even if that wasn't what Whitebeard wanted, it was how Ace understood he could repay Whitebeard.

Both of those stated dreams get back to this question he'd been asking his whole life - that of worth. Worth and Love, which, for Ace's character, are inseparable.

For Ace's dream to truly be fulfilled, it's not enough for him to accept he was loved – which he did on the scaffolds, crying from happiness – he had to believe he was worth that love. He had to love himself.

Ace died with that dream tragically unfulfilled.

---

The Purpose of One Piece

Of course the decision to kill Ace makes the story more realistic and of course it is heartbreaking, tragic, moving, and obviously inspires deeper discussion.

However, what rankled me from when I first learned about his death, which was way before I was even introduced to the character in Alabasta, was that he is the only character of the younger generation (outside of flashbacks) to die.

Honestly when I first heard Ace was one of the only characters to die, I was just worried it would make him seem weaker or stupider than every other character, which is a personal pet peeve of mine. Luckily for most fans, it didn't do that.

Instead, what wound up upsetting me was how it seemed to contradict the purpose of the story that is One Piece (at least what I think the purpose is). In doing so, it opposes the meaning that many fans find in this absurd, ridiculous, inspiring, heartfelt, heroic tale about a boy made of rubber.

One Piece is an escapist story about a boy named Luffy who inspires every good guy he meets to pursue and achieve their dream. It's also about Luffy beating up every bad guy who punishments are that they cannot fulfill their morally reprehensible dreams.

Because of Ace's premature death, he is the only good guy character in the main timeline who does not get to pursue his dream. And what's extra tragic is that he is also one of the most deserving of seeing his dream fulfilled.

[mooswords]

More than enough

Pairing: semi eita x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: musican au, fluff + soft-angst? its a happy ending i promise

Ramblings: this was going to be something short based around the masterpiece that is sk8er boi but it very quickly got out of hand rip ✌️

---

"You're just not what we were looking for."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you'd fit in with us."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

"You're obviously talented, we're just not looking for an artist like you right now."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

“Look, you don’t quite fit our brand.”

The worst part is that rejection doesn’t even sting anymore. It's always the same story - they love his music, but not him. 

Semi has never been one to shape himself to the expectations of others. He had refused to march in time at Shiratorizawa and it cost him his place in the starting line up. But he had thought, maybe somewhat naively, that with his music he could be both someone he was proud of and someone they’d want to hire. 

Apparently not.

“I understand, thank-”

“Um… I think he’d be a great fit.”

Your voice is firm but you're obviously nervous, barely able to meet the eye of the producer as she swings around to you, unimpressed. 

"I just…" you wet your lips, try again, "He's something different, and that's really cool. Of course, there'd have to be some changes but-" you dart a look at him- "maybe we should give him a chance."

"Oh, is that so?" your boss scoffs. "You want me to sign him because you think that he maybe deserves a chance?"

Semi takes a proper look at you - shaking hands clutched around the tablet in your lap, earnestness written all over your face - perhaps the first person in this unforgiving industry to show any sort of support for him. Not exactly the influential executive he'd been hoping for, but hey, it's nice to be acknowledged once in a while.

You suck in a breath, your posture straightening. "I know he's good enough. It would be our loss to turn him away." 

And Semi is flattered. Honestly, he is. But this is a well-trodden path for him, and right now, he'd rather leave this too-clean office, get back into his beat-up car that still smells like the soft drink Tendou spilt last week and just go home. Feel sorry for himself before facing the arduous process of picking up the scattered pieces of his pride yet again.

The producer shakes her head. “You know the types of artists the label is looking for, and it's not him."

"But he could be! Please, I-” you stand abruptly. “I‘ll take full responsibility. Give me… a month. I’ll put together a demo and figure out a brand for him. I can make this work, and we both know he’s got real talent."

Semi is flicking between the two of you. He's not quite sure if he's on board with what's happening, but the producer looks like she's actually considering it, and this is the first time he's had any sort of a chance.

"OK,” she relents. “ OK, I will give you a month.” 

His eyes dart to yours because, to be honest, he didn’t think- 

“But.” The producer eyes him, then you. “If he is not good enough in a month, both of you are out of here. Got it?"

You share a look, a mutual recognition of how much is riding on this.

"Got it." 

--

You properly introduce yourself the next morning in one of the spacious studios, passing him a takeaway cup of coffee and a to-do list that stretches on forever.

"So, you're going to need to write a song - obviously,” you start briskly. “But first, I need to know what size clothes you wear, what instruments you play and if you can dance. You're also going to need to stop cutting your hair. I can-"

"Sorry, you want me to what?"

"Stop cutting your hair, keep up."

"What's wrong with my hair!?"

Your eyes lazily flick over him. He hopes he hasn't gone as red as he feels. "It’s fine, it’s just going to look better when it’s longer." 

"How do you know what I’ll look like with long hair?" Semi splutters. 

You grin at him from under your lashes, a new relaxed confidence to your moves today. "It's my job. Anyway, back to the important things-"

By the time said important things have been covered, Semi's head is a jumbled mess. He desperately needs more caffeine. You go to continue, but one look at him has you pulling an apologetic face. 

"I know it seems like a lot, but you're going to do great. Is there anything you wanted me to clarify? Before we keep going?”

A million questions are ricocheting around his head, but the one that slips out is "Why are you helping me?"

Your gaze drops. “To be honest, it’s as much for you as it is for me.” Looking a touch embarrassed, you shrug. “This could be the break I need to finally move on from just being an assistant. But your music is good. Really good, and... look, you aren’t an artist the label would normally sign, but you have this… energy I think the world will love, and I wanted to be a part of that I guess.”

There’s resolve in your eyes, even as your fingers twist together. You exude a brand of hopeful passion; a joy that dulled for him long ago, a sacrifice that had to be made just so he could survive the setbacks. He hadn't dared let himself hope that this strange opportunity could lead anywhere, but maybe the two of you could make this work.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Semi grins when you meet his gaze. He can already feel the excitement building again in his chest. He’s missed it, he thinks wistfully. 

“Let’s do this.”

--

A month has never felt shorter, and he's not sure if either of you slept more than a few hours at once. He has learnt a lot though - how to use the enormous mixing board in the studio, that he apparently looks very good in red, the value of networking and connections in this fickle industry.

(He’d also learnt how you look curled up on his sofa, about your deep-set fondness for fantasy movies and the way you hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought, but he’s trying not to think about that.)

The producer is quiet, her head nodding along softly to the beat filtering through the headphones. She’s leafing through the outlines and photos the two of you had poured your everything into. Those few pages have to be enough. You had said he was good enough and he desperately needs you to be right, because if you aren’t-

“I’m impressed.” Your boss’ voice is begrudging as she pulls the headphones from her ears, “This is better than I was expecting.” 

Maybe he's enough. 

He's fighting the urge to grab your hand because you look like you're going to faint, and he might not be far behind you.

"Thank you." 

Your voice is shaky, hopeful.

Maybe-

“But it’s not enough.”

It's gut-wrenching. It hasn’t stung like this in so long the pain is almost foreign; this feeling of rejection, this weight in his stomach pulling him back down to square one. And as the abject confusion on your face gives way to incredulous anger, he thinks maybe the worst part is that it’s not just him being rejected this time.

“What do you mean it’s not enough? We-”

“-are not good enough,” the producer cuts in, matter-of-fact and unruffled. “For a month’s worth of work, it isn’t bad. It’s just that I’m still not convinced that he can be everything you say he is.”

Semi grabs at your arm as you lunge forward. He sends you a sad smile when you spin to face him. “It’s ok. I always knew this wa-”

"No.” Your eyes are ablaze. He can remember that feeling - back when rejection felt like sheer fury and not a resigned numbness. “No, that song- you are good and we all know it. You deserve a place here, she-” you jab a finger at the woman still seated behind the desk, “just can’t see your worth.”

Warmth curls around his heart. He’s going to miss your spitfire passion. “Seriously, it’s OK. Thank you though. For believing in me."

He faces the producer. “I… I hope you would consider keeping your assistant on.” He can hear your head snap towards him, “You said you were impressed with her work, and I saw more than anyone how much effort she put into this. She deserves recognition for it... yeah. Thank you for your time.”

He moves for the door, trying not to think about how empty his apartment will be without your papers and coffee cups strewn about. There is a small consolation in that you might get something from all this, but still. He'd really thought that-

“I quit.” 

"What?" Both Semi and the producer whirl to look at you. 

You blink up at your former boss. “I quit.” It’s firmer this time, but your hand trembles as you tug on his arm. “C'mon Semi, let's go.”

"Wha- no!" He splutters, even as you march out towards the elevators. He pulls you into a hallway, stares down at you in confusion and horror. 

"This is your chance! Why would you… don't just throw it away like this. Not for me."

You look dazed. "I’m done. I’ve worked here for years now, and let's be real, I was never going to get anywhere with her anyway. Besides,” you grin up at him. There’s no trace of regret on your face, and the gleam in your eye has the beginnings of a new melody itching at the back of his mind. “We are going to prove her wrong. You are more than enough Semi Eita.”

You pull away from him, gleefully calling race you to the elevator! over your shoulder. He gives chase, purposely bumping into you, laughing as you slide over the polished floor. And looking at your flushed face and breathless smile as the elevator doors close, he thinks maybe square one might not be so bad with you down here next to him.

--

"We aren't looking to take on an artist like you right now."

He writes more songs. You write more emails.

--

The lights are dim in the small, dingy studio, and honestly, it feels like the two of you have been here forever. You're trying to remember if that coffee place down the road still does 24-hour delivery as Semi groans from under the arm flung over his face, legs heavy across your lap. You poke him in the stomach and he peers out at you, pouting.

“Hey have some respect please, I’m moping.”

“Oh, terribly sorry, I couldn’t tell from the whining and general lack of writing.”

He pokes his tongue out and pulls a face at you. “Shuddup, writing songs is hard.”

“Mmm, not like it’s your job or anything.” 

His pout intensifies and you force yourself to suppress the smile threatening the corners of your mouth, ducking as he throws the pen hanging loosely from his hand at you. 

“You’re the worst.” 

You allow yourself to grin at him this time. “Maybe, but we only paid to have this studio for another" you check your phone, "three hours and then we’re going to get kicked out, so you need to come up with something."

He finally lifts his head, and it really should be illegal - this deadly combination of finger-raked hair, bleary eyes and rumpled shirt. You poke him in the stomach again.

“Fine! Fine, gimme my pen back.” You scrabble around for it and strictly don’t think about the warmth of his fingers over yours as he takes it. Pulling his legs off your lap, he theatrically flicks to a page in his notebook resting on the battered table and begins writing.

“My manager… sucks…” 

“Hey!”

“Because… she is… really... mean...”

“Noooo, give me that!” You lunge for the notebook, but he pulls it out of reach and smirks down at you.

“Oh, so now you’re interested in helping me write this song? I see how it is.”

It’s your turn to pout, still flailing for the notebook until you meet his eyes and oh he’s really close. There’s a fleeting moment where neither of you does anything, frozen. You swallow, watching his eyes dart down. You've been here before - not here exactly, but here, in these moments of breathless potential. 

(And maybe you're a coward for not doing anything because there have always been hints, little notations he leaves scattered across the score of your partnership. You've always been the second line, the bass to his treble, but a duet only works when both lines move together - you don't want to be the one who falls out of beat.) 

You pull yourself away, moving to clear away the takeout containers and throw what you hope is an unaffected smile over your shoulder. 

“Come on Semi, it’s just one more song. You got this. You always write about things that mean a lot to you. Just… think of that one thing you really want to share with the world.”

He chuckles, a breathy thing that curls around the room.

“Trying to get me to spill all my secrets, huh?”

You commit this image of him to memory - the fondness in his eyes, here in this tiny studio at who knows what hour of the morning.

"Something like that."

--

“You just aren’t right for us.”

He buys the coffee this time. You promise to pay next time.

--

He walks into the third record label this week. You wait hopefully outside. 

It's always the same result, but you still wait for him every time. And every time he shakes his head your heart breaks a little more, another rejection to add to the pile. But he's always been a fighter, and you were never a quitter. So every time, you pull each other off the ground, dust yourself off and try again. 

It's drizzly outside today. You wait, standing under the meagre protection of an umbrella.

He walks out and you brace for the inevitable fall. 

But when he looks up your heart skips a beat because he's smiling, and you're half disbelieving when he nods and then you're flying into the rain and throwing yourself into his arms as he laughs.

(And you can't meld words and melodies the way he can, but you think you could write songs about that sound forever.)

"You did it!" you squeal, and his grin is pure joy as he spins you in a circle.

"No, we did it." 

--

You're always backstage before a concert, so the looks you've been getting all afternoon from the crew are odd. You have half a mind to ask Semi about it, but in the mayhem of a lost guitar and last-minute phone calls, the only time you see him is just before he runs onto stage. 

Slipping your arms around him, you squeeze what encouragement you can into the brief hug. He considers you with that half-smile you have come to adore so much before he swoops down, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You catch his make sure you listen to the last song over the noise of the crowd before he dashes off. 

Maybe he… no, don’t be ridiculous. You scoff at the fantasy, try to push away the hope building in your chest. 

Why were you nervous? You weren’t even on stage. Yet your heart is insisting on recounting every cheesy movie you've ever seen, and it doesn’t help that you watched one with him last night, and it really doesn’t help that all you can think about is how you woke up this morning with the weight of his head on your shoulder.

Your head and heart battle the entire show, fear and anticipation blurring together in-

"Alright! I have a bit of a surprise for everyone tonight." Semi grins, sharp and full of adrenalin. The crowd screams. You barely manage to pull the drumming of your heart back into line. 

"This is a new song I wrote at… some ridiculous hour of the morning. I was told to write about the thing I most wanted to tell the world and I, uhh… well, it's for someone special, but I wanted to share it with you guys too."

He starts to play, but the opening chords are… new?

Semi has a habit of lounging in your office in the late afternoon, feeling out harmonies and half-realized lyrics as you work. You often hear strains of those afternoon experiments appear months later in his albums, but these chords are different. There's a major progression mixed in with the bass line that isn't quite his usual style; a little sweeter perhaps. And then he starts to sing, voice husky from the long show. The lyrics are quintessential Semi - simple, nothing incredibly poetic, but nonetheless heartfelt and genuine. 

It takes until the end of the second chorus for you to let yourself believe what he's saying. 

You hadn't heard Semi sing a love song quite like this before, and it is doing funny things to your chest. Because you can hear the smile in his tone, and he's singing about late nights and spinning in the rain and fantasy movies and... maybe this song is for you. Maybe you hadn't read the music wrong, maybe he-

You cut that thought off. Pressing your lips together, you force yourself to slip away as the final note is overtaken by yells and applause. 

(You may have been bold enough to stake your entire career on a maybe, but him? You can't risk losing him to a maybe.)

--

He finds you in the goldilocks studio. You had dubbed it that not long after he had signed with the new label - not too big, not too small. He had rolled his eyes when you first suggested it, but the name had stuck.

"I thought you might be in here."

"Oh, hey." You force yourself to meet his eye. "Nice job tonight. I’ve never heard a crowd so vocal."

He still looks every part the performer - hair wild beyond belief, stage make-up smudged - and technically, you're still on the clock. But right now, here in the soft haze of the studio lights, he’s just a boy and you're just a girl.

He chuckles, "Yeah, I’m glad they liked the new song, though…” he trails off, “I really only care about one person’s opinion of that song.”

There's hopeful apprehension in every line of his body.

"Semi…"

You brace for the fall.

"Semi, who was… was that song for me?”

“I didn't think I could make it any more obvious," he huffs, hand tucked up behind his neck. “I mean if you didn't like it that's fine. I just couldn't think of a good way to tell you, but that night when you said to write about what I wanted to say it… all came out I guess. And you don’t have to-”

You kiss him. It’s quick, barely a few seconds before you pull away. You’re perhaps just as surprised as he is, wide-eyed and flustered. 

His face breaks into a disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

Your lips quirk up of their own accord. “Yeah.”

He stares for a beat before reaching for you, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. You meet him in the middle and slip your arms around his neck, feeling his smile widen when he kisses you, feeling your heart skip a beat and fall into rhythm with his.

“I do have… one question though…” he asks, hushed as he pulls back. 

“Mmm?” you hum, distracted with his nose still brushing yours.

“How did you not realise the song is about you? I mean-” gleeful mischief fills his voice and you groan, flopping backwards out of his arms, "-come on, I basically said everything but your name."

"I didn't want to assume, OK?" you whine, pulling yourself back up to face him. The glare you send him lacks heat, and he just chuckles, shifting closer again.

“I’ll make it clearer for you in the next one then.”

“The next one huh?” The playful fondness in your tone overwhelms him. He can feel the pink flush across his cheeks, warmer than any rush the stage could give him.

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve already got more songs about you, but I think I might have some new inspiration now.”

“Oh, is that so?” you question, smile somehow widening.

Lyrics are easy, real words are harder. He doesn’t know how to explain that his brain has been writing stanzas about you since you met, but he can’t quite pinpoint when his heart took over.

He settles on “yep” and kisses you again. 

It's unhurried, unconcerned. There's no more maybes, no more doubts. It's just you, and him, and the grounding certainty the two of you are more than enough.

[gally-hin-phantom]

Tutorial/Step-by-step/Tips 4

I will this time mainly talk about how to create coherent Characters Design, break down my thoughts process and give additional general tips

Since it's Concept Art, I won't do a "clean" lineart (I will mainly use my usual comfort textured brush and won't go further than a clean 2nd Sketch) nor add any shadings/effects (to not alter the color palettes)

Those characters are my friend pages_of_altaire's OCs, Vlad Masters's employees

I’m not a professional and nothing is “rule”, just an art nerd sharing what they learn in their free time

Long post !

xxx

Step 0: Collect Information

It’s tempting to straightly jump into the drawing but I really don’t recommend it

I usually make a tab with a part including basic information like : Name, Hair color & type, Eyes color, Skin color, Height, Body type And a part with : Cloths, Particular Accessories, Personality

If your characters are good with themselves and not hiding personality traits nor secrets, their personality and what they do in life/where do they live should be reflect in their clothing (however it’s interesting to make contrast if you want to create surprise, like a ruthless evil character with childish traits, or a very kind and sweet muscular tall man)

Pages_of_altaire made me a tab with all the information + mood boards 👌💚

Tip: We artists are often confront to same-face syndrome, but I will add that same body type syndrome is also very common while less talked about (even in the professional world like comics, or mangas) I highly recommend you to try going outside the “perfect standard body type” we usually start our drawing journey with if you want to vary your characters and give more depth to your world & stories (manly to feminine, thick to thin, tall to short, muscular to frail, old to young...) Tip: Like changing eyes types, varying hair is also very interesting to give your characters more personality (long, short, straight, waivy, curly, coily, braided, tied, messy, clean) Tip: Including a little personalized accessories and details really make a character stand up and more “unique” (a ring, a watch, glasses, jewelries, freckles, make up, a printed t-shirt...) Tip: If you don’t have any ideas, searching clothes and fashions references on Google or Pinterest could help

.

Step 1: First sketch

This is just a really rough sketch to choose the eyes types and what poses would reflect each characters’ personality best

Eyes and face are the reflect of the character soul, it’s what we tend to look first and focus on (it’s biologic) so obviously we will have to be careful about the face

If the eyes are the soul, the hands are the spirit Don’t neglect how important hands are in a pose, are they showed ? hided ? crossed ? opened ?... A good pose includes good hands poses

Ask yourself, is your character cheerful ? grumpy ? confident ? cool ? shy ?...

Tip: The spin also shows how confident a character is, they could rise up or bend Tip: To make an interesting character sheets composition don’t sort the characters by height smaller to taller, try to vary and make height “waves”

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Step 2: Second sketch

I’m usually don’t bother doing a second sketch, unless I really want to have a clean final result But the cleaner your sketch is, the cleaner your final lineart will be

Since I’m still not totally comfortable with my anatomy (still working on my memories library) to make clean final product I generally use 3d models with the free app Easy Pose and adjust my sketch to give them the height & body type I want (changing the hips, busts, shoulders, muscles etc...), correcting the pose if necessary

There is nothing wrong with tracing a pose as long as you trace responsibly, it’s really common in industries (like Disney or Ufotable) to use 3d models to speed up the work and make artists’ lives easier Good tutorial and explanations by @pesky-poltergeist under @the-stove-is-on-fire‘s art tutorial => https://pesky-poltergeist.tumblr.com/post/646558144390119425/wing-drawing-hack-trace-a-photo-no-seriously

Tip: Use a dark blue instead of pure black to draw to rest your eyes, you will focus better this way and could still change the line color after :) Tip: To make a lively lineart, vary the line weight; thick for separate shapes & intersections, and thin for details & textures Tip: We tend to draw the eyes first, but try to draw the eyes at the very end of your sketch/lineart As said above, us human are social creatures, we are biologically programmed to search eyes and faces, by drawing the eyes first we tend to unconsciously search the eyes of our characters and then are distracted from the whole picture

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Step 3: Silhouettes

The silhouette help to understand how strong a character design is, iconic characters like Sonic or Cloud have very distinguished figures A silhouette also help to see how confident a character is If the silhouette is still clear the pose is strong and the character confident, on the contrary if the silhouette is more blurry the character is more shy

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Step 4 : Values + Textures (useful for greyscale comics like mangas)

The most important in a drawing is values (brightness), before saturation and color/hue (if you don't know value/saturation/hue, I recommend you to search some tutorials about the color theory on Youtube) I always start with choosing my values before adding any saturation or colors

Values could drastically change the mood of a piece (calm, drama, tension etc...) and for character design, artists use a full range for clarity; from high key to low key

There my example with bad values, as you could see cloths, hair and skin blend together and make the visual difficult to read

My final values, with define separations between the different parts

Tip: When you are drawing a group, try to vary where the darker and lighter values are between each characters to make an interesting and harmonious blend Tip: Adding textures/patterns give more life to a flat 2D drawing, especially for clothes or backgrounds; you could hand draw it or use premade brushes

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Step 5: Values / Hue / Saturation (Finished Concept Arts)

The value “rule” for clarity is still there for a colored drawing, you will just have a bit more values to consider

Since I was working on a group, to not clash characters I decided to give each of them a different main color based on their personality

Abby - Green : Youth, Energy, Freshness (bonus: green go well with redheads)  Nate - Blue : Serenity, Stability, Wisdom, Reliability Jolie - Red : Passion, Danger, Importance Angel - Purple : Independence, Nobility, Bravery Brad Yellow : Joy, Optimist, Enlightenment

While adjusting my hues I adjust at the same time the saturation to make something harmonious to the eyes, I usually choose to saturate one/two piece(s) of clothes or accessories by character to make it pop, usually the main cloth or the hair

To finish I just blur the line a bit, a bit of blushes, eyes lights and a paper texture on the whole piece Tada it’s done !!

Bonus: Step-By-Step gifs

Thank you pages_of_altaire for the character design exercise opportunity

I haven’t draw braids nor curly hair for a while now and it’s good to challenge ourselves a bit sometimes It’s help me go back on art after some rough weeks, and force me to go outside my comfort zone and comfort characters (aka Danny & Dani)

If you have any questions don’t be scared to ask me, I’m not a professional but I like to nerd about art ^^ 💚

[rainbowsky]

Final round-up of fan fic asks

I've gotten a few more interesting responses to the fan fic discussion so I'm going to round them all up here. This will be my final post on the topic until/unless there's a dramatic new development, or a particularly notable response I want to highlight. Thanks to everyone who brought their thoughts and experiences to the topic. I hope everyone at least feels heard.

The biggest piece of advice that I would like to offer is for everyone to focus on what they love rather than what they hate. If we all did that, the world would be a better place. Alongside that, I'd like to remind everyone to please support authors whose work you like. It's so important. Give them a kudos, give them a nice comment, recommend their work to others. You never know what kind of grief and harassment they are dealing with to bring you these great stories, and our support means a lot.

This is in reference to previous posts here and here.

Anonymous asked:

With regard to fandom and fan fic issue, my years of experience being part of very large fandoms has led me to believe that big accounts are v important in facilitating and enforcing the general consensus of the whole fandom. Unless there will be big accs who'll remind everyone of being respectful & just not being a dick over other's preferences, nothing will change.

This is also the reason why I think certain solo fandoms have adapted weird and twisted narratives as their general fandom story because no big acc has tried to police them & and say hey pls be rational. Whether we like it or not, in a place where how far voices, ideas, tweets, posts get heard is based on the number of followers you have, big accs will have the power and influence in creating/curating/shifting the narratives.

So, if you want to know why your/our fandom thinks like this in general, look at what big accs are tweeting/posting, look at what ideas & values they follow, look at their preferences or how strongly they react to certain situations. it's taxing and toxic for big accs given the nature of social media these days, but it's also the reality of system, the more followers/audience you have, the more influence you will have.

So to anyone reading this I hope we all practice more restraint and reflection before we post anything. Remember that words, no matter what medium you write it in, will always carry weight.

So true. It is easy - even for myself who spends a fair chunk of time answering people's asks - to forget that people can sometimes be impressionable and what we say can influence people whether that's our intent or not. I get used to thinking of myself as a regular guy just doing my own thing when sometimes my thoughts and words go well beyond where I initially posted them.

I think it's important for us to be careful what we say, and it's equally important to be careful what we take from what other people say. Especially when it comes to big claims. Always get a second, third, fourth opinion and don't be afraid to ask for clarification if something doesn't sit right or sounds confusing.

It's also important to reflect on how our words and actions might affect other people's experience of fandom, and err on the side of 'live and let live' wherever possible. It's great to have our own preferences and to champion them, but we should try to do so in a way that leaves space for other people and perspectives.

The more unique perspectives and the more friendly, open dialog there is, the healthier the community will be as a whole.

There's nothing wrong with encouraging and guiding growth in the particular areas we are interested in, as long as it doesn't step on, oppress or attack those who are peacefully enjoying something different.

Anonymous 2 asked: bjyx fans attacking gdgdbaby for including zsww/lsfy dynamics in an event named bjyx then turning right around and attacking the zsww/lsfy event organizer for excluding bjyx? god, can you hear my facepalm and sigh of resignation and incredulity from over there? im genuinely not surprised that they're trying to drive an entire part of the fandom out by disgusting them (and me) with these immature tactics. i believe what im about to say next will sound quite bait-y and i respect your decision 1/?

should you choose not to post this. but i do know that it is not only me, in fact there are many out there, that is of this opinion. we just dont talk about it on twitter to avoid the potential mess it will bring lol. okay, here goes nothing. (do note that im talking about the majority here, not every single person is like this) so bjyx fans tend to be cishet females whereas zsww/lsfy fans are more diverse in terms of age and gender, and most of them are part of the queer community too 2/?

i would like to clarify that most of these zsww/lsfy fans are not dynamic exclusive (in the sense that they are friendly and interact with all ggdd fans) they just prefer to "identify" themselves as zsww/lsfy fans (on twitter specifically) just to form a distinction from bjyx fans who mostly are dynamic exclusive (as in; they do not consume non-bjyx content, and straightup refuse to interact with non-bjyx fans, often blocking them). as a result, id say that the zsww/lsfy communiy is way more 3/?

mature and respectful (after all, they're mostly queer people talking about a queer ship) whereas many problems in this fandom, such as the homophobia, adamantly insisting on "drawing lines" between dynamics, stem from the bjyx exclusive fans, comprised of cishet females who "may not know better". so, it is of no surprise to me that they're resorting to these immature tactics of calling gg unsavory names, and organizing retaliatory events with controversial topics in an attempt to "purify". 4/4

I trust that you have arrived at that theory through your own experience and observation. I haven't personally spent much time immersed in this stuff so I can't claim to have any real insight or expertise. If you say that's your experience of it, then at the very least that's how you've seen things up to this point.

I just want to say that I think we should always be careful about making assumptions about people's age, gender/gender identity, etc.

There are plenty of good reasons to avoid doing that; because those assumptions could be very wrong, because those assumptions are often laced with ageism, sexism, etc., because those assumptions - even when correct - might not be an accurate basis for the conclusions we draw.

But the primary reason I recommend avoiding those type of assumptions is because anything that enables us to clump a group of people together in our minds like that will tend to make them easier to demonize and dehumanize. They are no longer individuals who are each responsible for their own unique perspectives, they are now 'the X group' who is known for 'A B C series of easily attackable ideas or behaviors'.

If we attribute undesirable traits and behaviors to a group of people we feel opposed to in some way, that makes us feel more righteous and justified in behaving unfairly toward them, dismissing their humanity and warring with them. It's just risky behavior to engage in, even when it's well-intentioned.

There might actually be some truth to what you're saying. It could very well be that most of these people are young, inexperienced, heteronormative, etc. but if that's the case then we should try to use those traits to better understand and empathize rather than to better dismiss and discredit.

Just my two cents on that.

It can be really frustrating dealing with what feels like other people attacking us, trying to oppress us, etc. - especially when there are more of them than there are of us. In my experience the best solutions to that sort of problem are generally the ones that focus on what we are doing and want to do rather than what they are doing that we don't want them to do.

As I am always preaching, we can't control what other people say, do or think. The only thing we have any control over is what we say, do and think (and how we respond to what they say, do and think).

I have found in my experience that the moment I step out of a conflict mindset and instead step into a problem-solving mindset, everything starts to come together. I feel better, my outlook is more positive, I can begin to see solutions and allies rather than problems and enemies, and most of all, I become more focused on what I am doing than what others are doing.

So I would recommend everyone who is invested in resolving these conflicts focus on that. "How can we best showcase and encourage the types of stories we enjoy?" instead of "How can we stop these other people from doing things we dislike?"

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hello again! It’s anon #3 from the fanfic post. I really do appreciate reading your thoughts on various issues like this, so thank you for always taking time to write in depth. As for supporting without going to war, the simplest way has always been to just show appreciation for the creators, hype them up. Kudos are the easiest way on ao3 but comments in addition are great. This goes for all content—art, fics, vids..etc. Creators love to see and read how people react to their content. Sharing is also great, fic recs are very helpful, just be cautious with art and reposting though. Hope this helps a bit!

Thanks so much, Anon. I think this is excellent advice. And it's true that appreciation is great, but helping to expand the audience is also great. Recommending stories, pointing people to the pages/websites of artists we like (as opposed to reposting), sharing our own ideas and approaches, encouraging people to try new things... all of this helps build healthier communities.

And here's another one: WRITE! DRAW! CREATE!

I urge anyone with creative interests or talents to bring their voices to the community because we all can benefit from hearing from you.

Thanks again everyone for sharing your thoughts on this issue. I hope that over time we can all work in positive ways to improve the situation.

I think this subject has been well-covered now so I'm going to retire it for the time being. If anyone still feels they want to discuss it further please feel free to message me privately. Thanks.

[bluegarners]

4. Never Disappointed Me

heyyy aster!! nice to see you!!

4. what would this fic be about, based on the title? (asker provides fake fic title)

i feel like you already knew what i was thinking when you sent this in, but who knows? maybe not? but for me and my lizard brain, of course i thought of a convo between bruce and dick because, let's face it, i am a total sucker for mushy conversations about the past and expectations created because of it

(i got carried away with this a bit so)

so maybe it starts off with a rough night on patrol. dick is in gotham for a change, taking a brief break away from blud, and he's just trying his best to get back into the rhythm of working with people of similar skill-sets and mind-sets as he. after years of first working on a team as a leader, learning to use his teammates very different but still useful skills to the team's advantage, and then leaving teams all together to go solo, has more or less thrown him out of sorts with knowing how to work with people that are thinking the same things he's thinking and gathering/learning the same things when faced with a crime scene/problem.

which leads to problems in and of itself as dick becomes a little over-bearing when working alongside the likes of red robin, robin, and batman. it's not that he under-estimates or under-values any of their work. really, they are all way-too-highly capable individuals and none of them really need his help, but he wants to give it anyway. so him invading on projects, leaning over the others shoulders, giving input that is obvious to them, and in general trying to point out things that they already know leads to someone blowing up at him; yelling and raging a bit at dick and claiming that he think they're incapable/incompetent at their job when, really, dick is just so used to having to take leadership, having to painstakingly point out things that are obvious to him but not others, and explaining concepts that are commonplace to him but unheard of to others that aren't affiliated with batman.

and that progresses into dick doing a complete 180, backing off and away and making himself scarce both in the cave and in the manor as he realizes that no one really needs him anymore and that his role in the family is very easy to replace as he can only contribute so much compared to what everyone else has already gathered. and of course everyone notices, feels a little bad for his recluses, and bruce takes it upon himself to reassure dick that he is still a very much needed part of their family, no matter the fact that the way they operate is just a little different from the way everyone else does and that that doesn't make his thoughts and input any less important.

which then leads to dick confessing something along the lines of this:

"I... I think I'm stuck, Bruce."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like this, right? All my life, I've been surrounded by capable, hard working people. People who have powers, god-like abilities, can talk to animals, turn into them, and produce radiation bursts out of their fingers. And then there's people like us. No powers. No special abilities. No mutations. Nothing. We're just... people."

Bruce says nothing but nods his head in encouragement. Dick wipes at his mouth, a nervous gesture of his.

"We're just people," he repeats, "and so that means that we have to better. We have to- to overcompensate and do all sorts of things that they don't have to think about. You raised me to be better, to overthink, to over-do everything so that we could somehow stand on equal footing with these super-powered people. And that's led to us leading them sometimes, somehow, because even with their powers, they can't do the things we do. Can't think of the things we think about. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. I don't mind being the leader, the planner, the one that gives explanations and back-up plans and assessments. It's great that I can be that person for them."

"But?"

"But it's... different here. With you guys. I... We're all the same here. I have nothing to bring to the table in terms of what makes us so different from all the super-people. Sure, I can be part of the patrol sectors, I can do surveillance, I can read over a plan or a map and go from there, but that's all.. it's all par for the course here. That's normal."

"And that makes you stuck?"

Dick scrubs harder at his mouth. "See, that- that's the thing. I don't mind not being the 'special' one or the 'normal human' aspect of the team. It's actually welcomed now that there are people who know I won't crumble into pieces if I break a bone or something. But the problem- I can't say there's an actual problem, there isn't one, but it's just... it's just..."

"You worry that there's nothing left for you to do."

"Yeah. Yeah, that. I have nothing new to contribute. So, now, I'm just here. I don't have a real purpose, a real ability to bring to the team, I'm just.. stuck. And I just, well, worry sometimes that I'm not enough."

"Not enough?"

"For Tim. Damian. Anyone. You."

"Me? You worry that you're not enough for me?"

Dick jerks his head in what might be the start of a 'yes' but stops half-way, mouth thinning into a red line and stress points.

"Dick," Bruce sighs, carefully raising a hand to place on his son's shoulder. "Will you please look at me?"

He does so, slowly.

"You will always be enough," Bruce says, squeezing his eldest's son. "You have been enough."

"I just don't want to disappoint you," Dick rushes out, surprising himself with the admission. "I want to be the person you think I can be, but sometimes it feels like I fail at that. Constantly."

Bruce inhales and exhales with the weight of years and years of regret and immense patience and love. He's not really one to shove physical affection onto others, it's not his department, but he deliberately wraps both of his arms around his son's shoulders, who readily returns the gesture.

"I know I don't say it enough," Bruce begins, "but you have never disappointed me. Ever. You have become someone far greater than I could have ever hoped for you to be, and I am so, so proud of you. Everyday. All the time."

Dick doesn't say anything, just smashes his forehead into the collar of Bruce's worn sweat-shirt and hugs a little harder.

"Richard Grayson, you have made me nothing but proud and I am so grateful to call you my son."

[solacefruit]

Not an ask from the ask game - but do you mind explaining how you came up with some of your worldbuilding for MAMS?

- The Elders arranging pairings for genetic fitness

- the winds

- Housekeeper names

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

Hello there! I don’t mind explaining the thought process behind these, so sure, I’m happy to chat a bit about these world-building features. This will all go under a readmore as usual, so answers below!

The elders’ role.

It’s my opinion that elders would be highly valued in every clan, although their specific duties and cultural role might vary. Even before I started writing fanfiction for Warriors I always intended to give elders significant political and cultural weight, and I had a collection of little thoughts about how that might look like. For many years, one of the things I knew Windclan elders did was essentially host a micro-democratic system--i.e., they would vote on issues after a long debate, so as to give each cat an equal voice in the final decision. 

Some elements of Windclan life are decided exclusively by the elders in this way, and the arrangements are one of those elements. The arrangements came out of two thoughts for me: the first being that Wind (the founder) is a mother and a leader simultaneously, which I felt set a precedent for Windclan to allow mollies to have litters and hold power; and the second being the canon visitors to Windclan, whose purpose there was very unclear and honestly not really plasuible to me. In canon, they just come chill for a while and there’s not really any benefit to Windclan allowing them to do so. 

So from those two thoughts, I went: okay, what do the visitors offer the clan that would incentivise Windclan to invite them back every single year? And the answer is fresh bloodlines, particularly as the cats of the visiting group change so frequently as they are joined by newcomers. Likewise, I considered what impact it would have for Windclan to have a leader who also had experience raising kittens, and the answer was that she had the insight to know an insular, unmoving clan would not last. Hence why she also came to an accord with the barn cats of the nearby farmlands.

The combination to those two factors made it clear to me that Windclan’s tolerance--and even enthusiasm--for the visitors came from early in their history as a failsafe against inbreeding, and it seemed right to me that the elders--who long ago would probably have been Wind’s closest friends, the cats who helped take on some responsibility while she raised her litter--are the ideal thinktank for tracking bloodlines and deliberating on appropriate matches for warriors. It seemed like a neat and realistic solution for several problems. 

The nine winds. 

I knew I wanted to include a significant and unique element of Windclan culture in m.a.m.s. because it’s the ideal environment to do so, being a bigger story than my previous ones. The nine winds developed out of both Doylist and Watsonian interests for me. 

The Doylist (in-universe) reason is that canon suggests Windclan views themselves as intensely spiritual because of their position as closest to the stars and/or Moonstone (?)--but that didn’t really click with me, because all the clans feel they have a deeply personal, powerful relationship with Starclan. I felt there had to be more to their everyday relationship and “we sleep under the stars” doesn’t actually cut it for me as a notable cultural practice that justifies that feeling of connection. I wanted to be true to Windclan’s sense of being in conversation with Starclan, in a way that most suited their lifestyle and territory. Hence, the wind as divine messenger. 

The Watsonian (out-of-universe) reason is that I considered Windclan’s supposed connection to Starclan and stars, and then I thought of astrology, and then I thought of “what if astrology but actually interesting and potentially valuable?”, and then I devised the nine winds. Sorry to anyone who finds astrology fun or valuable, but for me, I don’t really find it compelling conceptually because (and obviously this is a super basic, watered down definition, forgive me) it is predominantly about explaining who you are based on when + where you were born and accounting for why you act or feel the way you do.  

That feels stagnant to me, so I wanted to take the concept of astrology and go, “what if it tells you who you can/should become?” and that felt very right and much more in line with stories I like to tell. I loved the idea of life as a work-in-progress, nebulously guided by ancestors, and I enjoy the difficulty in disproving the nine winds: either the wind is right because you could stand to be more x, or the wind is right because you became very x (as you should have). An emphasis on interpretation was important too, so that each cat has a personal relationship with 1. their own harbinger and 2. the day-to-day movements of the wind generally. 

As a side-note, I was also aware that systems of categorisation--Hogwarts houses or whatever else--are very appealing to readers, and I had a feeling people would go a little wild for the nine winds as a concept. I’ve so far been pretty good at predicting what it is that people really like in my work, especially as far as world-building goes, and it always makes me excited when I know I’ve about to share something new that I think everyone will go a bit mad for. 

Housekeeper names.

I wanted to achieve a few things with Cypress in m.a.m.s., and one of them was that I really wanted his relationship with Talltail to develop out of a cultural miscommunication that only becomes visible to both parties in hindsight. In the end, of course the relationship is very real, but from Cypress’ perspective, I needed something to push him to take the leap into the unknown, because I felt just curiosity and a desire for adventure weren’t quite enough to make him leave the comfort and safety of his home. But a noble, handsome traveller who turns up on his doorstep with interesting stories and a quest, who almost at once offers his name to Cypress in gratitude for his hospitality? The boy thought he’d fallen directly into a cat romance novel. 

I also felt that the sacred secret of one’s name is a super interesting cultural counterpoint to the clans, whose names and naming system exist to be known and as a way to identify each other. I got the idea initially from Old Possum’s Book of Cats, actually, a long long time ago, and have always found the thought of every cat (and particularly pet cats) having a private name pretty delightful--especially as kind of this last fierce independence, the one thing that is theirs and theirs alone. 

Personally, I also just love any kind of ritualised social conduct--another reason I love court intrigue. The sharing--or not sharing--of names has so many subtle little ramifications, and while I didn’t explore those in m.a.m.s. I love to think about it. 

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

I think they all go together really well and a lot of what makes this story feel unique is the combination of all these little things happening concurrently--or at least that’s my theory! I think of all the things I’ve written in m.a.m.s. the nine winds are probably the most intriguing, though, by virtue of implying much but sharing only a fragment of the whole? But that’s just a guess. 

I think the nine winds as a concept is the thing that is most specifically a me creation and probably the most unlikely to have been developed independently by someone else, so I’ll go with that! Admittedly I very rarely read Warriors fanfiction, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think there’s anything quite like what I’m doing out there at the moment. 

Frankly if there was, I like to think I’d already know about it, because I’d be their biggest fan. Thank you for asking, and I hope these answers are interesting!

[jayjaysocks]

Listing my favorite animes (because I’m jumping on the bandwagon)

❗️⚠️ *spoilers!! (Duh)* ❗️⚠️

5. Deadman Wonderland

I was really really sad when I found out this anime got cancelled. The music was fantastic, the animation was really good, and the voice acting was incredible. Even the fucking dubbed version (I loved the voice they chose for Senji. God he was hilarious). I binged this show so fucking fast it wasn’t even funny. I loved watching the characters go through their own struggles and grow as people in the very small amount of episodes provided. There was a lot of development within the snippet that we actually saw, and I was thoroughly impressed with how well it was done. I wanted to scream or something when I found out there wouldn’t be a second season.

Sigh. Oh well. At least we got some of the manga’s masterpiece translated into a show, even if we were missing some fucking awesome characters.

4. Guilty Crown

Ugh, don’t even get me started. This anime was beautiful and I got so invested so freaking quickly. I literally go back every few years to rewatch it because I get ship starved.

Shu and Inori’s story was so beautifully done; between Shu uncovering his courage and Inori’s journey of self-discovery, I was continuously awe-struck and filled with feelings—I mean, I had never felt such raw emotion while watching something and I was completely blown away by the affect it had on me. Anger, hatred, sadness, it was all there (even for the main character lmao) and it was one of the first times I had ever felt a ship so heavily that I literally cried at the end. It was one of the very first Animes I’d ever seen and was one of the reasons I got such a taste for them. Thanks for throwing me down that rabbit hole, GC.

3. Soul Eater

This was literally the first Anime I’d ever seen, and my god I couldn’t have asked for a better starter. What I like about this one is that it’s style is so unique and different. It’s very punk and grunge, something I admired and appreciated in a genre that is normally the opposite (like Guilty Crown, for example). Also the fight scenes were badass, like holy shit just look at that gif ??? Freaking amazing.

I loved the way the show transitioned from light hearted to intense and adrenaline pumping so effortlessly. That can be said about a lot of shows, but this one went from *haha cute show* to *holy shit, like they’re actually gonna die ohmygod howaretheygoingtosurvivethis* so smoothly I was genuinely surprised. They made one of the main villains actually cool and each character had their own beautifully done arc. I loved and adored how the show solidified and expanded on the different friendships/relationships that were involved—specifically Soul and Maka’s (also, holy shit, Stein’s arc? Fucking prime, dude). There was a lot of growth in each and every friendship (CRONA!!!), and that really pushed the viewer to invest in the individual characters.

I am fucking delighted that this was my first anime, and (though the ending was a little anticlimactic) it remains one of my top favorites to this day. It set the bar pretty fucking high, and for that I am extremely greatful.

No one asked for Soul Eater: Not! It is the unspoken sin of the Soul Eater world (then again, it is called Soul Eater: Not!)

2. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

If you have been following me for a while, then you are no stranger to my love of FMAB. Some of my most popular posts are about this anime, and for good reason.

Unfortunately, I was late to the party. I actually didn’t watch this until last year, but got invested really damn quick. I have a tendency to be extremely picky about the animes that I watch/like (which is why NONE of these shows are that recent), to the point that I will literally research them before I start watching (a bad habit, do not copy me). I have an incomparably hard time finishing a show when I start, because I get bored really quickly, but this was an exception. I started watching and I just... didn’t stop. I spent a straight week watching FMAB, gobbling it up during any small amount free time I could manage, and finished it before I even knew what happened. I wasn’t picky about it, I didn’t research it, I just dove right in and gosh, I was not disappointed.

The subtle romance that was alluded throughout the entire show was super cute, the devotion the brothers had for each other was to die for, and the struggles that each person went through was more than moving. I never once found myself bored while watching, and that’s saying a lot for my adhd ass. I was invested in each and every second of that damn anime and I was never, ever left underwhelmed. That probably had to do with the fact that every. Single. Character. Had a purpose. I’m not even kidding. Every single person contributed to the big fight at the end and that alone is fucking fantastic.

Not to mention ALL the women, every female character, was a badass bitch. None of them were reduced to sex appeal or romantic subplot, they all had real feelings, real arcs and real, unadulterated badassery that I thoroughly admired and appreciated. I could watch this anime over and over again every single month and I wouldn’t get bored. Between the emotional struggle, self discovery, and personal development of each character, I promise you will not see a lack of plot or meaning here. The more you watch, the more you discover and that is not a lie. There are so many layers to its story, which only makes me wish I had watched this sooner.

There is nothing I have to offer in the ways of criticism, and for that I couldn’t be happier. Thank you, Hiromu Arakawa, for such an incredible piece of art. You deserve every bit of love that this manga/anime gets. You go girl.

1. Cowboy Bepop

Holy shit holy shit holy shit this anime is so fucking good and it has been my favorite for so damn long. I have been watching anime for years, and while some of the shows in my list have moved around, this one has yet to be bumped down from the top (and I doubt it ever will). There’s a reason it became such a cult classic.

For starters, the animation. I mean, just look at Spike and the way they animate his fighting (yes I am aware that this gif is from the movie, but that still doesn’t change my point). The sequences in the show/film have been reused in many other shows and for good reason. It’s good, incredible, actually and they make him look so badass with just a few hand movements. I was consistently impressed with the way the fight scenes were portrayed and wasn’t ever left underwhelmed or disappointed (or, for that matter, feeling like they completely over exaggerated/overcompensated the scene with huge close-ups and tons of debris and lights). I loved watching this and my heart was always pounding with every intense interaction. I didn’t feel bored during any of the episodes and always found myself laughing when they cracked a joke—pretty much all of their funny lines hit and that’s saying something, dude.

The show, while having a lighthearted surface, has a heavy meaning that you don’t see at first glance. It’s about dealing with grief and loss, and how the characters themselves accomplished that in different ways. The most prominent quote is the biggest indication of its moral “you’re gonna carry that weight”. Basically: ‘You’ve gotta pick up your baggage, because the world moves on, with or without you’. Or ‘You’re going to carry that weight whether you like it or not, because life keeps going’. When I figured out the show’s actual message, while staring at my ceiling in the long hours of the night, I almost cried. This realization brought something entirely different to the table, a new understanding of the show’s characters and overall essence.

The main characters, all of them, had depth. They had real, palpable depth, and even if you didn’t want to care you found yourself seriously interested in their lives. Each of them had relatively shitty pasts. Faye with her lost memories, Spike with Julia and the people who fucked him over, Jet with his old flame and the ISSP, Ed and her/his father... throughout the entire show we got to see how all of them dealt with these things, whether they wanted to continue on with life or not. The way they portrayed it was engaging, because the characters individual, contrasting journeys weren’t repetitive or one note. The beauty that the show holds so achinging close to its core, the layers of grief that the characters are wrapped in so delicately is almost suffocatingly real—because they’re all different. It’s something you discover when you think on the subject in a deeper light, which is another reason why I enjoy it so much. It has both a surface story and a deeper one. You can either take the show at face value or choose to understand the underlying moral.

This show inspired my very first, thoroughly fleshed out OC, and continues to inspire me to this day. It has contributed to my own personal growth, and has helped push me to continue my art and writing. It is beautifully written, beautifully executed and even though some of the episodes seem like filler, it has never disappointed me. I rewatch it all the time because there’s something so infinitely refreshing about the beauty of this anime, whether it be the way we watch the characters develop or the overall moral it portrays. This show has given us a message that is essentially timeless, it can be ‘carried’ through generation after generation, and still have the same impact—something I absolutely fucking adore.

I owe so much to this anime, including my very own artistic development. I discovered it during a really shitty time in my life and I couldn’t have asked for better timing. I will never tire of the bittersweet message or the thoroughly fucking fantastic animation. Everyone who contributed to this masterpiece deserves love, because it’s seriously fucking gold.

[maxwell-grant]

Ever read or heard of Al Ewing's El Sombra trilogy?

So now that I actually finished Pax Omega I can give my thoughts on the trilogy. In short: I like it! It's got a lot of incredible strengths and interesting takes on the material it pulls from, it's got a very rich setting and interesting characters to explore, in terms of what else I've read from Al Ewing's general work it's second only to Immortal Hulk for me. This trilogy may have actually convinced me that steampunk has at least some value as something other than obnoxious set dressing, and that is no small feat.

I got a separate post planned for El Sombra as a character because I want to write about his character arc and the trilogy's relation to his respective influences, but below are my particular thoughts on the books. Spoilers below the cut

El Sombra is easily the simplest of the three, and the most straightforward "pulp" novel of the three. For the most part it's 200+ pages dedicated to establishing the misery of Pasito, the vileness of the Nazis, and the character of El Sombra as he hacks his way through whatever bastards he can get his hands on. It has to do a lot of work in making sure we fully understand El Sombra's character before the next novels can get to work putting him on bigger settings in a supporting role, and in that it succeeds very well. It's a Zorro character stuck in a 2000 AD world of dystopian mechanized nightmares and fighting savagely to kill it, gradually learning that he needs more than just a sword and superhuman skills to do it.

One thing that sticks out to me about El Sombra is how grueling of a read it can be, especially in the first two chapters when the story's establishing the situation of Pasito nine years after the wedding massacre, through the POV of the story's villain. While there are many pulp stories that include Nazis as villains, I've never seen one that goes as in-depth into the sheer atrocities of Nazi regimes as much as this one. Ewing really spares no time conveying just how utterly wretched they are in many ways other than just ethnic massacres (and the massacres of the book are harrowing to read as well, no grisly detail spared), the many insidious ways totalitarianism corrodes the soul of all subjected to it, long before the Nazis actually start dying. It's incredibly disturbing and not at all out of line with the real atrocities perpetuated in history.

And it's made all the more effective because the book goes to great length to describe the many, many life stories of all those that get killed by El Sombra, whether irredeemably evil or merely misguided soldiers, which lends a lot of weight to them. He's not just tearing his way through cartoonish embodiments of evil, he's murdering people brutally, to our enjoyment, because painting Nazis as people is not the same as humanizing them, it only makes them much, much more horrifying than any doomsday weapon could ever be.

The scene in particular where El Sombra has to dash alone into a burning building to rescue children, children who are seconds away from dying, children he had to kill an entire squad of Nazis just to be able to rescue, children that he cannot leave on the streets because otherwise they will be trampled or killed by a mob, had me gasping and not wanting to turn the page out of fear, actual fear that he wasn't gonna make it.

"Zorro vs Nazis" is an incredible simple premise, and I don't think it could be done better than it was here. Very, very solid start, although I do recommend that you go in aware of just how brutal and disturbing it can get.

Gods of Manhattan was the first one I read, and contrary to El Sombra's more western and pulp roots, this very much reads like a superhero comic book centered around pulp icons. Out of the three it's the one I like the least, but it's a very good book, one that could easily work on it's own even without it being a sequel. It's considerably less harrowing of a read than El Sombra and instead much more based around meat and potatoes storytelling, showing how the building blocks at work here are being arranged, and a larger exploration of liberty and egalitarianism and political aspects of the works Ewing's pulling from. Gods of Manhattan is the trilogy's moral compass, contrasting to the simple revenge thriller in El Sombra and the science fiction anthology of Pax Omega, setting up the major players of this world before Ewing can knock them around for the final installment.

One of the things I like most about the El Sombra trilogy is the mix-and-match of properties. Doc Thunder, for example, bears many surface similarities to Doc Savage, but he functions mainly as a Superman figure. He wears a logo akin to Shazam's, he has a reputation akin to that of Captain America's, we later learn his real name is Hugo and he's the in-universe equivalent to Hugo Danner. As the most straightforward superhero of the setting, Thunder condenses the history of it's biggest icons into a single being. The primary Shadow analogue here is the villain, but the villain also shares more common traits with The Spider and Spider-Man, and traits of The Shadow manifest in two other characters (the titular El Sombra, and a character known in-universe as The Blue Ghost who functions as more of a Spirit analogue). There's a shapeshifting dead-faced supervillain by the name of Anton Venger, referencing the pulp hero The Avenger. The Lex Luthor analogue turns into Doomsday by the story's end. It's the crafting of an interesting new mythology from bits and pieces from a larger whole and there's enough rich content here to last for a whole franchise.

If I had one major problem with this book, it would be the character of Marlene Lang. Marlene functions here mainly as the Margo to Blood-Spider's Shadow, and naturally, she gets twisted to the extreme. While the story's demonization of The Shadow's archetype is grounded in a larger point about the dangers of dark vigilantism, it's treatment of not-Margo/Nita here is purely for the sake of reinforcing the Spider's own awfulness. The story demonizes her by painting her as decadent and sadistic and promiscuous, and the latter in particular is really hammered into you as something that paints her as evil and unlikable, which is really shitty. I expected better from Ewing and I don't think this is a decision he would have gone with had he written the story today.

Still, Gods of Manhattan is terrific and gets a very solid recommendation from me. But much to my surprise, my favorite of the books actually wound up being Pax Omega.

Pax Omega is an incredibly ambitious book, spanning the entirety of time from beginning to end, every chapter presenting a radical shift in setting as we jump through time periods of this world's history. It has a truly staggering amount of worldbuilding to get through and a lot of it is pure exposition. It's a one man sci-fi anthology, and while that's turned off some of it's readers, I liked it considerably better than the other books. It weaves together it's narrative threads incredibly well as it gradually gives you a sense of where the story is heading (and was always heading right from the first book) as wilder and wilder concepts get brought into play corresponding to the massive changes brought by time.

Despite how separate a lot of these stories are, they all come together, and there is not a single wasted chapter or page here. It's got fun thrills, it's got action, it's got harrowing descriptions and passsages (particularly regarding El Sombra's discovery of Berlin), it's got enough worldbuilding in here for entire shared universes and not a single dull moment. Pax Omega cements this trilogy as one of my favorite superhero universes as well as easily the best superhero novels I've ever read, although it's playing with a lot of images and icons much older than superheroes, and even weaves in a bit of meta-storytelling.

It's definitely the book I'll most likely revisit in the future, and while I don't think this is a trilogy that could work as well outside of it's literary format, I think there's a lot of interesting aspects here to be learned from by anyone who wants to tackle pulp characters, or superheroes. Very impressed with this one.

[varian-and-the-seven-skies]

Cor Meum | Chapter One: City of the Sun

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

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AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

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Chapter One: City of the Sun

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“Need a hand there, goggles?”

The voice, barely audible over the sound of welding and banging metal of the mechanic’s shop, draws Varian’s attention away from the chaos of the engine above him. With a beleaguered sigh he stares mournfully up at the greasy gears and other assorted guts of the machine. His eyes flick down to see a pair of black, perfectly polished leather boots waiting patiently near the edge of the suspended machine, and it takes more than a little willpower not to groan.

Varian grits his teeth. He does not have time for this. He only has until tomorrow to fix this stupid thing before the ship’s due to take off; he’s already been working on it for three days, and if he can’t get it running the Captain is going to flip.

The leather boots that Varian can see past the edge of the engine shift slightly, and Varian can feel more than see the light kick of someone else’s shoe against his own. The large silver buckles on the boots flash just enough to be annoying, and Varian makes a face. The voice drifts back down to where Varian has hidden himself under the engine, and it takes everything in him not to groan.

“Hey, can you hear me under there?” it says impatiently.

Varian plants his back a little more firmly on the rolling mechanic’s bed he’s lying on and pulls on the outer casing of the engine, rolling himself out from under the machine with a small grunt.

He slams his eyes shut against the sudden change in light, blinding even behind the protective lens of his goggles. When he opens them again he can see a tall figure leaning over him, blocking out most of the sunlight coming in from the skylights embedded in the iron ceiling of the shop. Varian cricks his neck, looking around in a last desperate attempt to ignore the person hovering over him.

The mechanic’s shop is certainly distracting enough, stuffed full of people just as grease-covered and irritated as Varian, all of them suffering together in the heat caused by welding and hard work. Made of thick stone and wrought iron, the large space offers room to spread out that you just didn’t get in airships, making it the best place for Varian to do his work with big projects like engine twelve’s sad, hollowed out corpse. Large windows dot the ceiling like stars, offering light and just the smallest hint of the blue skies above. The shop is, if anything, supposed to be a safe haven for the mechanically minded. People aren’t supposed to try and talk to each other, which is something Varian cherishes. Nothing worse than trying to piece together penny-sized cogs or a delicate engine part only to be interrupted by a nosey crewmate.

Which is why blondie being here is certainly quite the insubordination. Society has rules, damn it.  

Varian wipes his gloves clean off his apron before pushing his goggles up onto the top of his head, linking his fingers and stretching his arms out towards the ceiling. He lets his arms flop back down with a sigh, and finally locks eyes with the person above him.

Varian arches a brow, and the blond’s smile splits just a little wider.

“I’m sorry?” Varian asks, not exactly friendly. By the Maker, he really doesn’t have time for this.

“I asked if you needed a hand,” the blond replies, a glint in his green eyes. He’s tall, is Varian’s first impression, tall enough that he’s likely got at least a head of height on Varian if they were to stand shoulder to shoulder. Varian would say he’s muscular, but there’s the sneaking suspicion that it’s really more the black leather coat that makes the teen in front of him look that way. Varian has employed similar tactics in the past; he knows the tricks. Get a big coat with a large, pointed collar and massive cuffs and boom, suddenly you’re twice as intimidating as you were before. It's a good coat, though, if a bit heavy for Corona weather. Shining silver buttons line the length of the jacket, and it has deep pockets that Varian can only assume are full of fun little tricks from experience. The silver continues on the blond’s vest as well, a trim piece of green fabric with polished silver buttons and a faint embroidery.

Blond hair, chopped in a rough undercut, frames the other teen’s thin face in an annoyingly aesthetic kind of way, held back from his face by the wire frames of the other teen’s circular glasses. Green eyes meet Varian’s own, and the blond smirks at Varian’s blatant staring.

In all honesty, he almost looks out of place, dressed up just a little too much to be skulking around with the grease-monkeys Varian calls his contemporaries. If anything, the quick flash of a silver rapier on the blond’s belt cinches it. Whoever this teenager is, he’s either from money, or pretending to be from money, both of which are irritating in their own way.

Varian bites the inside of his cheek, trying to find a way to reply politely.

“No, thank you,” is what he spits out instead, grabbing at the engine and starting to pull himself back under it. The blond’s heavy boot slams down on top, the mechanic’s bed jerking to a halt, and Varian’s teeth click uncomfortably together at the force of it. The engine swings a little dangerously from where it’s suspended between two large chains, holding it high so the underside of it is easily accessible. Varian stops mid-yank and glares.

The boy just smiles, annoyingly unphased.

“Aw, c’mon, goggles,” the blond says with that same irritating smile, green eyes bright behind his round glasses. “Isn’t that a little heavy for a tiny thing like you? Don’t you want the extra help?”

Varian huffs in offense, already done with this conversation. The shop’s agonizingly hot, even with the windows thrown open. It’s loud, dirty, generally rather unpleasant with the stink of grease and sweat, and though it’s the best place to work in the dockyard it’s still chaotic at best. Varian only has another eighteen hours to figure out what the problem with this engine is before they’re due to take off from Corona again, and Varian knows it’s his ass on the line if the work doesn’t get done. He doesn’t have time for some uppity asshole to think he knows more than Varian and try to upstage everything.

“I have a name, you know,” Varian says, coldly, looking the guy dead in the eye.

“Can I know it?” The blond winks at him. He seems to think he’s making headway.

“Nope,” Varian replies with a peppy smile. There’s a moment of shock, and that’s all he needs to yank his mechanic’s bed out from under the blond’s black boot, disappearing back under the engine.

Finally. Back where he belongs, the annoyance avoided. Varian scratches at his face idly, bringing his googles back down over his eyes, setting his mind back onto his work. He peers up into the open panel at the bottom of the engine, noting the interweaving cogs that should in theory be working by now. After the bloody pirate attack a week ago, engine twelve, or specifically this part of it, had taken a hell of a beating. The Captain had pushed her too far again, causing something inside to rupture and spew parts across the engine room floor like a geyser, and in turn Varian has spent the last three days desperately trying to piece it back together. Something is still wrong with it, though, and it’s driving Varian insane trying to figure it out.

“Come on, darling,” Varian mutters to himself, taking a wrench to one of the bolts. “Talk to me.”  

He gets no answer. Instead a small plume of dust and grease spurts out of the machine onto Varian’s face, only just splattering onto his goggles instead of his skin. Lovely. He grits his teeth, reaching in to really give it a piece of his mind—

“It’s the bolt on the timing belt,” the blond pipes up from beyond the engine. “If you leave it as-is, it’s going to fall apart the minute you try to take off.”

…Oh. Varian looks up to the timing belt, tucked away neatly near the upper left side of the engine, and lo and behold, one of the bolts holding it in place is missing. Damnit. Varian peeks up through the engine, up to where the top panel’s been removed as well, and just catches a glint of green eyes peering down at him through the guts of the machine. There’s a minute of debate in him, how much does he value his pride? Enough to admit he was wrong to this irritating little—?

“Look, pipsqueak,” the blond says, his voice filtering through the cogs and gears. “I know machines. Just trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

Varian clenches his hand around the wrench, wondering how long he can go without committing murder. Maybe if he made it look like an accident…?

He rolls back out from under the engine again. The wheels make a protesting noise against the cobblestone floor. This time when he comes to a stop, he sits up properly, shoving his goggles back up to rest haphazardly on his forehead.

“Can I help you?” Varian finally spits. His ire only seems to encourage the blond, who grins.

“I mean, it seems like I’m helping you,” Green-eyes says, idly pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. How he’s dealing with the heat of the day in that giant coat Varian would never guess, but that’s besides the point. Varian rocks his weight a bit, thinking, the mechanic’s bed under him shifting with the movement. Decided, he finally pushes himself up to his feet, noting with irritation that the blond is, in fact, at least a foot taller. Scowl setting deep on his face, Varian turns away and kicks at the mechanic’s bed roughly, sending it rolling back under the engine for safekeeping.

There’s a chattering noise of gears and steam, and Varian feels a weight land on his shoulder. He only just adapts to the heavy weight of copper, steel, and brass, before he feels his first creation  clambering for his attention. Varian absently reaches up to pat at the metal body of his pet, scratching at a place between the exposed gears of Ruddiger’s ears that he knows the little automaton likes best. Ruddiger coos out a puff of steam, settling his weight onto Varian’s shoulders fully, the automaton having jumped from on top of the engine. Aperture eyes snap open and close with content, breaking the glowing green light of Ruddiger’s eyes for just a second as the raccoon-shaped automaton purrs.  

The blond lets out a little huff of a laugh when he sees Varian and Ruddiger together, green eyes flicking between them. He gestures to his eyes, biting his lip. “Look at that,” he says, grinning. “You’re twins!”

Sure enough, when Varian peers into the polished brass sides of the engine, he can see that his eyes are ringed with grime and soot, giving him a distinctly raccoon look. Varian scowls at his reflection, turning back around with an angry gesture of the wrench in his hand.

“If you weren’t right about the engine—” Varian begins to threaten, but the blond cuts him off.

“But I was,” he says with a smarmy smile. “Right, I mean.”

Varian can feel his eye twitch.

“You’re rightly annoying,” he grumps, crossing his arms. Ruddiger makes an offended puff of steam at the movement, digging mechanical hands into the shoulder of Varian’s shirt a little tighter. Varian grits his teeth a little as tiny claws dig into his skin through the thin fabric.  

The other boy holds his hands up in an innocent gesture, head cocking to the side. “I know what I’m doing, all right? Let me help fix the engine.” Green eyes glow with mirth as the boy looks down at the engine again. “Because, clearly, you seem to need it.”

Varian scowls, his hands clenching into fists, fingers digging into the leather of his gloves. The wrench in his hand is temptingly heavy, but Varian simply grits his teeth and ignores the plots for murder, taking a deep breath. Instead he reaches up and over the engine, using the wrench to try and tighten the bolt on the timing belt one last time. It creaks a little dangerously, but Varian knows it’ll hold. He designed it himself, after all.

Ruddiger keeps an eye on the blond behind Varian, making curious noises, a soft clicking sound that mixes well with the quiet ticking of his clockwork heart. Varian has to use two hands on the wrench to get the bolt tight, giving it a few violent tugs. The blond is watching him—Varian can feel eyes on the back of his neck—but Varian steadfastly ignores him, either out of focus or spite… or maybe both.

Work done, he finally turns back around to the blond, stepping forward with a threatening gesture of the wrench.

“Look,” Varian says, pointing the wrench an inch away from green eyes. “I don’t particularly care for your tone, so—”

“Varian!” a third voice calls, and Varian stills mid-rant. Both Varian and the irritating boy next to him turn, locking eyes with a young woman—a familiar woman. Her grin is a mile wide, bright as the sun and twice as warm. Her purple dress swirls around her ankles, cinched tight at the waist by a black corset, with billowing sleeves of white fabric. Her green eyes crinkle when she sees the two of them turn to her, scrunching up the spattering of freckles on her face and wrinkling her button nose. She’d look a proper lady, she certainly holds herself with the decorum expected of one, if not for the pixie cut she’d chopped her hair into. It’s stylish, with shorter sides and a longer top, nearly defying gravity in the way it fluffs up from her head into a windblown wave.

Varian notes, with quite a bit of amusement, that she’s holding onto a pair of flats in one hand. Barefoot again, then. Classic.

“Rapunzel,” Varian sighs, dropping the arm holding the wrench back down to his side. He can feel the embarrassment of being caught picking fights seizing him. He’s eighteen now, he really should know better, and Rapunzel is nothing if not determined to keep him on the straight and narrow.

“Who’s this?” Rapunzel says with interest, her eyes flicking between Varian and the other teenager. The taller boy seems to stiffen under her gaze, which is unsurprising. Rapunzel is notorious in these parts, and in the dockyard especially. Varian rubs at the back of his neck in the presence of his Captain, and can feel his cheeks burn red.

“He was just leaving—” Varian starts to say, turning away from her to glare at the blond, but Rapunzel cuts him off.

“Oh, did you make a friend?” she asks, coming closer and leaning on Varian’s shoulder. It’s infuriating the way she’s taller than he is, even after his growth spurt.

“Sure,” Varian says through grit teeth. “A friend. We’ll call him that.”

Rapunzel brightens at that, and Varian can already sense the trouble on the horizon. “And you are?”

The boy shrugs. “New.”

There’s a pause, but Rapunzel pushes forward. “Oh! How are you liking Corona, then?” she asks the blond, her grin a mile wide at the thought of Varian having friends. Varian’s not sure if he’s offended or not, really.

“Loving it,” the blond says. “The City of the Sun could never disappoint.”

Varian wants to roll his eyes, but Rapunzel leans further onto him, putting more of her weight onto his shoulder in a silent bid for him to behave himself. He goes along with it—she’s typically right in these sorts of situations.

“Glad to hear it,” Rapunzel grins. “What brings you to our fair city, anyways?”  

“I’m here looking for work, actually,” the blond says quickly. “Just got back from a contracted expedition to Vardaros, so now I’m on the hunt for another engineering job.”

Rapunzel’s face brightens, and Varian grows concerned. He knows that she’s been contemplating hiring extra hands for their next expedition, seeing how important it is, but there’s no way she would actually—

“Well, you’re in luck!” Her face splits into a wide smile. “We’re actually looking for a junior engineer, and any friend of Varian’s is a friend of ours. We’d be glad to have you aboard, if you’re willing.”

Varian’s face must do something funny, since Rapunzel’s full weight is near crushing him now. He tries to catch her eye, but she’s ignoring him with a grin. Rapunzel knows exactly what she’s doing and Varian can’t help but feel the slight pulse of irritation sink into his gut. She’s planning something, he thinks, glaring at her as she steadfastly ignores his gaze. Only the Maker knows what goes on in that woman’s head, honestly.

“Well, can’t say no to that,” Varian’s new most-hated-person says.

By the Maker, what did Varian do to deserve this? Has he really been such a terrible person to deserve this kind of treatment from the universe? Honestly, you’d think he was a horrible murderer in a past life for the kind of penance he’s paying in this one.

“Perfect!” Rapunzel crows with a clap of her hands. “Varian can show you how to get back to the Aphelion—right, Varian?”

“Yes, Captain.” Varian grunts, idly wondering if he could brain himself with the wrench in his hand in such a way that would guarantee he wouldn’t survive. Rapunzel doesn’t seem to mind, finally letting up on Varian and gently pushing away from him with one last squeeze of his shoulder.

“Alright, you two,” she says, winking to Varian as she leaves. “Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing— I’ll see you both back at the ship! Play nice!”

Varian can’t help but feel like he’s been played.  

If Varian had his way, he’d turn around and fire the blond here and now. Varian’s the head of the engineering section of the Aphelion— that’s got to count for something, right? In theory it should, but Varian knows that Rapunzel, as Captain, had final say in everything. If she wants to be a busy-body and force Varian to try and make friends, then by the Maker, it’s happening whether Varian likes it or not.

In this case? It is decidedly in the not category.

He turns to the blond, who looks back with a smug smile. Varian can feel his face scrunch up in distaste at it, and knows that the twitch in his eye is probably back with a vengeance. Ruddiger chirps with contentment on his shoulder, idly pawing at his hair in an attempt to calm his human down. It doesn’t work. Varian sighs, and finally sets the wrench down on a nearby table, jabbing a finger at the other teenager.

“I don’t like you,” is all he says. “But if Rapunzel says you’re in, then you’re in, I guess.”

That stupid fucking grin gets wider, and Varian wants to punch it.

“Who are you, then?” Varian asks, trying for more neutral territory. If they’re going to be stuck together for the next six months once the Aphelion takes flight, then he wants to at least try to work towards something non-hostile.

“Your new crewmate, obviously,” the blond shoots back, and Varian loses all sense of decorum at that point. There’s a beat of silence as Varian tries to reel his temper in, and another as he tries to relax his jaw enough to say something that won’t get him arrested.

“In that case, you should know that you’re speaking to your boss… mister junior engineer.”

The blond splutters, and Varian can’t help but give a little smirk of his own. Nothing better than reminding people of his position, the one he’d clawed for for years before Rapunzel finally gave in.

“Wait, what?” Varian’s new underling asks, going a shade paler.

“My name is Varian,” he says, the smirk growing larger and larger. He brings a hand up to the center of his chest, fingers splayed slightly. “Lead Engineer of the Aphelion, and your new boss. So, tell me, glasses.” Oh, this was so much fun. “Who are you?”

Green-eyes seems to know when he’s dug himself a hole he can’t climb out of, and for the first time there’s something other than an irritating smirk on his face. If anything, Varian would say he looks annoyed. The thought of finally managing to wipe that smirk off the blond’s face is delicious, and it does wonders for Varian’s mood. Varian sticks a hand out, much like Rapunzel had, and while the blond glares at it, he still takes Varian’s smaller hand in his own.

“Hugo,” the blond grits out, holding Varian’s hand maybe just a little too tight. It’s still worth it to see this boy squirmthough.

Varian waits, but the older boy—Hugo—says nothing else, and after a moment Varian draws his hand away. “Good talk.” That’s that, he supposes.

A pause, and then Varian shrugs and moves away, looking back to the engine. Screws in place, broken pipe replaced, timing belt bolted... it’s about as fixed as it can get. Varian reaches up and slams the top back down with a loud clang. Hugo jumps. Varian grins, and kneels down to lock the top back into place.

Ruddiger chitters in his ear, scolding; Varian shakes him off and straightens back to his feet, peeling off his gloves and shoving one hand back through his hair. Ugh, city sweat and oil. He can taste it. “Well,” Varian says, resigned. “Might as well make yourself useful, I guess. Help me push this back to the dockyard.” Hugo opens his mouth but Varian cuts him off. “And if I hear one more comment about my physical prowess—!” He pats the wrench twice with a sweet smile, the threat more than obvious.

Hugo closes his mouth. He’s grinning. By the Maker, even when he’s quiet, Varian can practically hear what Hugo wants to say anyway. This is already a disaster; what the hell is Rapunzel thinking?

He has a sudden and vivid flashback to her winking at him, and shudders without knowing why.

Ruddiger coos at him with a puff of steam. Varian tugs at Ruddiger’s ear in return, annoyed with the chiding—he knows how to play nice, thanks, why does no one have any faith in him?—and then walks to the shopkeeper, thus far ignored in the back of the workroom. “How much for the parts?”

He pays for the replacements and manages to haggle for a cart, and in a few minutes’ time he and Hugo have winched the engine down and rigged it up for transport. Varian braces himself against the cart handle and sighs. “Westside dock,” he tells Hugo, squinting sadly at the streets through the large double doors of the shop. It’s market day. The crowds are crazy. This is going to suck. “Pier 48.”

“You sure you know the way, goggles?”

“It’s ‘boss,’ actually,” Varian replies sweetly, and grins with all his teeth at the way Hugo winces. Hah. Varian could get used to this.

They exit the repair shop to a faceful of steam, and Varian coughs hard, waving the smoke from his face as he and Hugo shove their way into the crowd, the cart rattling loudly on the uneven cobble. Corona at midday is as bustling as ever, the city life in full swing. Whole families wander the streets as merchant carts and stores push out their wares; steam-powered bikes rocket past, their riders laughing high and bright. In the distance, Varian can hear the ever-present screech of the train whistles, the trails of steam drifting up from the stations. Above them, the sunlight warps and twists, broken apart by the furious rattle of passing trains and the railroad looping high above their heads in arches and spindly bridges.

Varian squints against the light and shades his face, elbowing Hugo hard to get his attention. The other boy looks almost lost in thought, staring up—his eyes tracking the trains as they pass, looking almost blinded by the sheer gleam of the city in motion. “We’re heading right,” Varian explains, raising his voice above the din, and waves his pocket watch at Hugo’s face, tapping the compass in the upper corner. “Come on.”

Hugo pulls his gaze away and follows, and together they push the cart through the streets, slowly but surely carving a path for the dockyard. When they finally break through the main crowd, Varian pushes them toward the side-streets, shadowy and empty and safe from wandering feet. If they hurry, he thinks, they might make it to the dockyard before the heat really sets in. He gives Ruddiger one last absent pat and starts to pick up the pace.

Hugo is slowing, though, trailing behind, and then for a brief moment he stops completely, hand slipping away from the cart. Varian yanks the cart to a stop, glancing back, ready to give the other a piece of his mind—but then he sees Hugo’s face. Varian follows his gaze, and closes his mouth. He understands now: in the break between the buildings he can see the whole upper half of Corona, the spires of the Sun’s temple and the curving arches of the bridges rising high over the city, shining bright and glossy in the sunlight. It’s designed to look like the sun crest, if seen from directly above—a tourist favorite.

“First time in the city?” Varian wonders, and when Hugo eyes him, just shrugs, Ruddiger chattering loudly on his shoulder. “You’re staring.”

“It’s bright,” Hugo says, dryly.

“And that would be why it’s called the city of the Sun.” Varian blows out a hard breath, trying to get sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. He plants his hands on the cart rail and starts pushing again. A moment’s pause, and then Hugo joins him. “But no, seriously, who are you? You’re already hired or whatever—” Damn Rapunzel for that, now Varian has to deal with this jerk for six months, “—but why are you even here?”

“Luck,” Hugo says, which is such an obvious lie Varian outright rolls his eyes at him. “Money. Look, goggles, I came here for a fresh start, so—” He gestures. “Let’s just not do the whole interrogation thing and say we did, okay?”

Varian presses his lips together, but lets it drop. As irritating as Hugo is—well. Varian understands fresh starts. And the money issue. If it was someone prying into his reasons, then…

“Fine, fine.” Varian says, and turns his head away, only just catching the way Hugo startles from the corner of his eye. He almost looks surprised, Varian thinks, but when he glances back again Hugo just looks as smug as ever, not even out of breath from pushing the cart. His hair is even still slicked perfectly back.  

Maybe his imagination? Well, whatever; Varian hates it either way.

It’s not far to the docks, and Varian knows the path like the back of his hand; by the time the midday heat really starts sinking in (and Hugo, in that stupid leather coat, is noticeably starting to sweat—hah, serves him right), they’ve reached the edge of the city. It’s quieter here, the rumble of the crowd replaced with distant whistles and rhythmic banging, the symphony of a dockyard hard at work.

Varian heaves the cart to a rolling stop by the stairs, waving at Hugo to step back, and cups a hand around his mouth. “Xavier!” he shouts down at the shipyard, pitching his voice high. Ruddiger props up on his head and yawns, puffing steam like a smoke signal. “Send Cass up here, would you? I’ve got that engine part fixed!”

“Oh, wonderful!” Xavier waves back. “I’ll send her up— we’ll get it reinstalled right away! Grab Yong for me?”

“Where is he?”

“On the ship!”

“Got it!” Ruddiger crawls from his shoulder down into his arms; Varian cradles the racoon close—ouch, hot metal—and finally looks back to Hugo, humming. “Well, come on then.”

“Yong?” Hugo wonders aloud, as Varian makes his way for the ship. It’s in Pier 48 now, the main dock for repair work, which makes this a longer walk than usual. Damn pirates, punching holes in their ship— who did this Donella think she was? For someone with such a fearsome reputation, they’d gotten away pretty light…

“Xavier’s assistant,” Varian explains, clutching Ruddiger to his chest and hopping down the stairs two at a time. He hears a snicker, and whips around to glare. Hugo looks away, one hand covering his mouth. Varian narrows his eyes. “Xavier was that man down there, he runs the engines, and— would you stop laughing?”

“Sorry,” Hugo says, with a grin that says he isn’t sorry at all. “You were saying?”

“Okay, I’m not doing this.” Varian spins on his heel, ignoring him. “Come on, it’s just around the corner. She’s a little... battered right now, some hull damage, but we’re set to leave tomorrow— and I mean tomorrow— time is money with this next shipment, understand?”

Hugo smiles, leaning closer to Varian. “What’s so special about it?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “Is it expensive?”

Expensive, one of a kind, irreplaceable—there’s a lot of words Varian could use for it. If the Aphelion’s last cargo had been valuable, this next shipment is near-priceless. “That’s on a need-to-know basis—” Varian says tartly, “—and until we’re in the air, you don’t need to know. Now, will you be ready?”

Hugo shrugs. “I’m ready to go now.”

Varian blinks at that, looking Hugo up and down. Even Ruddiger lifts his head from his nap to sniff a disbelieving puff of steam. No luggage, just the clothes on his back and the sword on his hip. “Um… you sure?”

Hugo’s smirk widens. “Aw. Worried for me, goggles?”

Ha-ha, nevermind. Varian pivots back around. “Nope.” He is not allowed to punch his new assistant. He is not allowed to punch his assistant. Rapunzel would be disappointed. There would be lectures. She would make charts. Not worth it. “Now, where is that ship—”

He ducks around the corner, stepping out of the way of horse and cart, and then, like the sun splitting the clouds: there she is.

Varian trails to a stop, annoyance already forgotten. He turns, for once wanting to see Hugo’s full reaction. If Hugo had blinked twice at the city, then… “Here we are,” Varian says, grinning now, pride bubbling warm in his chest.  “The Aphelion!”

Hugo looks, mouth opening, and Varian can just see the rude comment he’s about to make—and then Varian really doesgrin, wide and bright and smug smug smug, because he can also see the moment Hugo loses all his words entirely.

Varian has always loved Corona, despite everything—the spiny skyline, the arching bridges, the whistling steam and winding roads curling up to the temple like a conch shell. Varian has lived in this air and breathed this city for all his life, and he loves it with all he is— but of all the places in the city, the dockyards, and the ships they harbor, are where his heart truly lies.

If the city is bright, then the dockyards are blinding. They sit on the very edge of the city limits, the cliff-face drop of the flying city. The copper paneling that makes up the dockyard decks has turned near solid-gold in the sunlight, and beyond that edge the whole world falls at their feet. Miles upon miles of dotted green farmland, blocks of gleaming metal towns, curving roads like man-made rivers. The horizon burns gold and blue, the distant silhouette of other flying cities dotting the landscape, poking out from distant clouds. None of the cities fly as high as Corona, of course—the cities of the Sun and Moon are meant to float above all the rest—but it still makes for quite the view. With other airships hanging in the sky, colorful backdrops against the full white clouds, the dockyards are most certainly a sight to behold.  

But the jewel, Varian thinks with a smile, is his ship—Rapunzel’s ship—their home.

The Aphelion.  

She’s a work of art, Varian knows, and she looks it, too. Aphelion is a whole three hundred feet of dark wood and solid brass, long and sleek and sharp as any blade. Her half-moon windows are stained glass and shining; decorative copper and silver wires wind down her front and all across her sides like trailing vines, or maybe wings, or maybe the unfurling edges of the sun. She’s got four sails and an envelope made of the best weave, the cloth of the balloon so thick it’s near impossible to cut, set to hold them afloat for nearly two decades even if the engines and the fires both die. A heavy copper turbine sits at her back; the sails, flapping loose in the breeze, are decorated in off-hand embroidery. She’s golden and shining in the sunlight—and it’s right, that Hugo goes dead silent at the sight of her, and Varian can’t help but grin. Because anyone who stops and stares at the Aphelion, anyone who goes breathless at their first glance… well, as annoying as Hugo is, he can’t be too bad, then. Not if he sees the Aphelion for the treasure she is.

She hadn’t always been this way, of course; she’d been a broken thing once, before Rapunzel found the shattered shell of a ship and coaxed life back into her. It’s Rapunzel’s way, after all, to find broken and trapped and hiding things, and bring them out to the light—but Rapunzel had asked Lance to do the tarp weave, and Varian had built the metalwork, and in the end, it was all of them, together, that brought the Aphelion to the skies, blinding and beautiful and larger than life.

Varian steps away and sets Ruddiger down on the cobble, still grinning wide and pleased at Hugo’s shock, and waves up to the small figures settled around on the Aphelion’s balcony. Rapunzel—standing at the helm with Eugene, Nuru, and Yong—looks over, and she leans over the railing to wave back. Her eyes draw to Hugo next, and even from this distance, Varian can see her smile.

Varian turns back to Hugo, radiating smugness. “Well?”

Hugo blinks fast and shakes his head. “Well,” he echoes. He shakes his head again, and then he gives a little laugh. “Well.”

“What do you think?” Varian presses, intent. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” And maybe Hugo catches something in that, maybe he can tell Varian really and truly wants an answer, because he looks at Varian, eye to eye, and then— he smiles.

Months later, this memory will stand out to Varian. Years later, Varian will look back on this day in the sun and finally recognize the moment for what it was. A beginning. And an end.

Their only warning.

It’s bright, the smile Hugo gives him. It’s blinding. But for some reason, something about it makes Varian falter. A chill runs down his spine. His mouth goes dry. Because there is something in that smile—in the curve of it, the sharpness of teeth—something about the way it creases at Hugo’s eyes. It unnerves him. It unsettles him. There is something about it that doesn’t sit quite right, and if Varian had known better, then, perhaps he could have read the smile for what it was.

But instead Varian looks away, feeling cold and not sure why, telling himself it is just the wind—and beside him, Hugo, his eyes fixed back on the ship—

Hugo smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “She’s perfect.”