#it would just mean that legend lives through the golden era and the era of decline

[furrylibrarian]

I’m going to complain about Ganondorf in TotK and the story told through the Tears of the Dragon memories. Spoilers ahead.

In the introduction, when Link and Zelda find Ganondorf underneath Hyrule Castle, there was one specific bit that got me excited. It was when Ganondorf called Link “the one chosen by Rauru” or something to that effect. I took this to mean that Ganondorf has lived through so many eras and clashed with so many heroes that he no longer views them as individuals, but merely incarnations of that little boy from the forest who thwarted his plans so long ago. It was a fascinating and somewhat tragic interpretation of the immortal king of evil, and I was excited to see how he would interact with Link and Zelda later in the game. Considering how BotW’s Link and Zelda both struggled with living up to the example set by their predecessors in the backstory, a Ganondorf who can only see them as continuations of their past selves rather than the individuals they are seemed to me like a perfect villain!

And then I found out that Rauru was not the Sage of Light who watched over the Hero of Time as he slept for seven years. Rauru was a ghost dragon man who in life was the first king of Hyrule and gave Link his wacky new arm. Which kind of invalidated my interpretation of Ganondorf, but hey, this is still interesting.

As I played the game and found all of Zelda’s memories, something became more and more apparent. This Gerudo man named Ganondorf was not the king of thieves who tricked Link into opening the door to the Sacred Realm. He was not the tyrant who survived being impaled by his would-be executioners. He was not the raging storm of evil and malice that just one game previously reduced Hyrule to rubble.

I wasn’t going to fight the villain who had tormented one of my favorite video game heroes for generations. I was going to fight a stranger with the same name and a similar face.

I felt betrayed, which wasn’t helped by how much the storyline told through the memories reminded me of OoT while deliberately not mentioning any of its lore (namely the Triforce and the Golden Goddesses). I felt like the creators of this game were trying to erase and replace every Legend of Zelda that I played and loved when I was growing up. The only experience I can think of where I had a similar emotional reaction was when Bionicle was cancelled and unceremoniously replaced by Hero Factory the same year.

I haven’t played TotK since I first finished the main story back in May. I’m not as upset now as I was when I was playing through the game, but this still bothers me. There’s plenty that I love about TotK, but it’s mired in everything I just described.

[grandomen]

something something olthedir continues to be the OP mage, his strongest companions are described in legend as "an ancient drake of the north" and "a great golden phoenix who had lived a thousand lifetimes"

the ancient drake of the north was a being that had been alive at least two thousand years before olthedir himself, eoldraed, lord of the mountains, is olthedir's oldest friend (the primordial dark is not olthedir's oldest friend, that deity is like a weird parent). they met when olthedir was a little boy- he was brought to the mountains by the gods so he could master earth elemancy (which yes, is different from the more plant based things he'd learned in the forest). eoldraed is said to still lurk deep in the northern mountains, but no person but olthedir has ever been able to find his cave- and certainly no person but olthedir could call upon the great drake's power.

the golden phoenix who lived a thousand lifetimes, fealnos, was a large (and by large, i mean yeah she's about the size of the eagles in lord of the rings) falcon that had been revived by the gods after an untimely death- she thus shared similar powers to the god who saved her (her revival also caused her massive size change). she also is much older than olthedir. she traveled as his "main companion" since eoldraed only came down from the mountains when he was called upon. fealnos stayed with olthedir through his 20k years of big yikes. she is often concealed by his magic, because having her with him is just a massive red target on his back, you know? but the modern era i guess is ... not as bad as the ancient times.

eoldraed and fealnos are not necessarily familiars, but they have strong ties to olthedir's magic- magic bonds sure are nice to have. and since they're a dragon and a phoenix, they don't suffer the big yikes of 20k years mental strain on the mind like a human being would (alas, olthedir is still a human being); they're built for that sort of thing. olthedir did have familiars- his favorite being a rather fluffy calico cat.

[atimelesslullaby]

@fallesto said: In the serene hush of dawn, a silhouette materialized from the swirling mist that enveloped the undulating hills. This being was so breathtakingly exquisite that it felt almost surreal in the ordinary realm. Its coat, a brilliant white, shimmered subtly with a metallic luster, revealing the silver strands woven through its flowing mane and tail. This was no ordinary horse; it was a creature of legend. Its eyes, a striking, deep blue, radiated a profound wisdom, as if they held the mysteries of the universe within their gaze. The horse, named Adelheid, glided effortlessly through the dew-laden grass, each hooffall whispering against the earth despite its powerful build. Its movements resembled a graceful ballet, each step a silent verse that conveyed strength and elegance. Adorning its brow was a crown of blossoms that changed with the seasons, currently a delicate mix of snowdrops and frost-laden berries. The farmhands at the nearby Whispering Farm had long accepted the presence of this otherworldly being; she had become an integral part of the scenery, a mythical entity woven into the fabric of their lives. Adelheid emerged from a tapestry of whispers and dreams, her life a delicate fusion of the tangible and the fantastical. She wandered the vast landscapes with intent, a quiet guardian who offered solace to those adrift in uncertainty. Her mere presence soothed the weary souls, a guiding light that promised refuge from the unforgiving realities that lay beyond the farm's embrace. The air around her glimmered softly, a testament to the enchantment woven into her very being, a magic that beckoned wanderers from distant lands to seek her wisdom. The farm itself was an extraordinary realm, perched at the threshold where reality intertwined with legend. Those who found themselves at this fateful crossroads often discovered their destinies entwined with the secrets that the farm zealously protected. The land was whispered to be blessed by ancient forces, a sanctuary where the boundary between realms thinned, allowing echoes of the beyond to dance on the wind. It was within this realm of murmurs and shadows that Adelheid fulfilled her role, her essence serving as a conduit between the lost and the rediscovered.

She was no stranger to legends. Many were taught to her from a young age, many she'd chosen to read for herself. After all, the Triforce had been merely a legend at one point. That was a legend of which had come true, which was why the princess was quite open minded when it came to anything that had to do with the concept of legends.

Her own right hand was proof of that.

Her golden staff set down, the disguised princess, clad in a blue robe, was picking ingredients. Mostly herbs, that could ease someone's pain. Hyrule was in an era of peace, but that didn't mean people still didn't get hurt. Monsters still roamed the field, the council would have never accepted Zelda going out into the fields.

Especially this early in the morning.

Upon hearing the footsteps of a horse, her movement paused. Setting the herb she'd been holding in her basket, the hooded figure looked upon such grace and beauty. No, this was no ordinary horse. Astounded by her beauty, she also knew the importance of staying on guard.

Zelda herself was proof of it. With great beauty, could come great danger. She was the strongest sorceress in all of Hyrule now.

Slowly, the blue cloaked figure rises, but does not dare take a step. She didn't want to scare the horse off, though she'd have loved for the opportunity to sketch her. For now, she would stand, reaching for her golden staff, just in case she needed to defend herself, in spite of the overwhelming sense of calm that was washing over her.

How peculiar.

[moochilatv]

Niko IS interview

Writing about NIKO IS @nikohigh , it should be recognized that we are facing one of the most active MCs in the hip hop scene. In last years, he has published several albums and collaborations with remarkable artists, producers and legends of the genree.

 On constant tour with Talib Kweli @talibkweli and his crew of artists, he also takes the time to perform crossovers and go on tour with reggae artist Matisyahu @matisyahu .

His name is Nikolai Paiva. He was born in Rio de Janeiro (Brasil) and lives in the United States. He spent part of her childhood living in Buenos Aires and Bariloche, because her father is argentine. That's why you will find references to our country in his raps (he even names Batistuta @gabrielbatistutaok , the great footballer and legend, on a track).

This interview was carried out in the framework of the tour in Austin (Texas). When the South By Southwest (SXSW) was taken place. It's an event that gathered artists from all over the world, and also a large part of the latino community dispersed all over ther.

1) How's everything in Austin, Texas?

I LOVE TEXAS. SXSW is special. It’s my 13th year doing it and every year is better. It is a South American dream Come true. 

2) What are your feelings about the new project "The Adventures Of The Young Viejos" with Juni Ali ?

I feel that it’s a culmination of my latest travels with Juni Ali and a love letter to RAWKUS records and the golden era of Hip- Hop through my voice. 

3) How did you connect with legends like Sick Jacken & Planet Asia for the album?

I’ve encountered both of the legends from my tour experiences as they are both great friends with Kweli. We recorded both of those songs in the studio together. Plus Sick Jacken co owns a studio in LA called the “Drug Lab” with BLACKSTAR and Kweli’s legendary engineer “Federico CSIK Lopez” who is Colombian and also mixed my album ! 

4) One of the highlights of the project is "Live from the Blue Note". What do you think of the song and video clip that they published?

I think it’s a tremendous honor to represent the culture at such a prestigious and important jazz venue such as the Blue Note.. also having their blessing was an honor of mine! It was my dedication to the lyricist lounge. 

5) How did you meet Talib Kweli? A global hiphop legend. Do you have more collaborations between the two of you that haven't come out yet?

I’ve answered that question over 88 times lol it’s a great story. You can google it. But he discovered me in Orlando! And we must have over 50 unreleased songs at least! That’s my mentor ! And friend ! 

6) Will you work with El Bles again?

We are currently mixing the next SOFRITO album which is called “SOFRITO MUNDO” and it’s beautiful. I feel it’s my favorite one so far! Very futuristic yet very Island influenced. El Bles is a salsa sage.  ACHOOO PAPI 

7) What do you think of the new albums by Blackstar and Talib Kweli with Madlib?

They are AMAZING. POWERFUL! BEAUTIFUL! Side note, I was supposed to be on LIBERATION 2 but didn’t because of sample clearances. Blame EGON. Shhhh

8) What are your current inspirations?

MYSELF. MY MOTHER. GOD. LIFE. WATER. Atahualpa Yupanqui. Mach Hommy. moodyman. Many others!  

9) What do you remember from your past in Bariloche? Would you like to visit Argentina in the future?

I remember all the love and the cold! I miss it. I lived in Buenos Aires as well. My father is Argentinian. I just found my other family on Instagram! it’s a crazy story shhh they don’t know yet LOL! One day they will! Maybe after this ! I’ll be back very soon to drink quilmes and eat churrasco. And find my father ! Haha

10) The last questin it's a funny question. What do you have in your backpack? Moochila with the extra "o" means backpack/mochila

Currently, I have hair products, rolling papers, hair ties, a copy of “naked lunch” , allergy medicine, vitamins, spare headphones and coconut edibles.  

[saltpotion]

why am i incapable of coming up with a fic that isn’t extremely complicated

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer

I’ve talked a little bit about why Batman: Urban Legends is a bad story already, but I just saw a post talking about this panel and how well Bruce has been written in this story. And while the post didn’t really say anything about Jason, OP’s comments in the notes talked about how this seemed to be a direct response to people trashing Bruce for beating on the poor and disenfranchised, talking about how he’s finally “in character”, how he has a lighter touch and tends to think things through and how the story is teaching Jason a lesson about his “tendency” to brute his way through things without thinking about them, and how Jason wasn’t OOC.

My first post about UL touches on why that last bit is nonsense, but the stuff about Bruce reminded me of something else in UL that really, really bothered me. 

It’s the above panel and these, not just in the context that this story rewrites Jason as ALWAYS having been prone to violence and willing to wail on the weak, but also in the sense that Bruce, of all people, is the one chosen to teach this lesson to Jason. 

[that sentence ends in the next panel with “...stealing the Batmobile’s tires?”]

It’s just one more way DC keeps chipping away at what makes Jason (the Robin raised in poverty, the one who grew up with a first-hand insight into the way Gotham’s systemic corruption and crimes do the most harm to the poorest and least powerful people, and the only one to be personally affected by addiction) special and interesting. It’s just the most recent way they’ve bastardized his roots to villainize him (the poor homeless kid who was brutally murdered) so that Bruce (the billionaire) looks better, so that Bruce is absolved of all his responsibility in how Jason came to be the Red Hood.

Because in actuality, Jason taught Bruce that criminals can change.

Bruce didn’t listen. He stalked Penguin and when he found him, Bruce had to eat his words.

Penguin had actually tried to change. Bruce realized his mistake and tried to defend him after he was arrested, but the damage was done.

By the way, this is from when Penguin was just a jewel thief. Let that sink in for a sec. Go back up to the panel from Urban Legends with Batman and Robin in the alley and reread it.

And this, this story with the Penguin, is how it should be. Not that crap from UL. 

I don’t know why people have to keep saying this but Jason isn’t stupid. He’s incredibly smart and his actions, even his violence, are rooted in empathy and indignation on behalf of the innocent who are harmed, not rage. The above panels in UL are basically like saying that Cassandra Cain has suddenly changed her mind that everyone can be saved and decided to join Jason in killing super villains. This is the core of the character we’re talking about. It’s not the dumb little details like whether he likes coffee or eats cereal or whatever. It’s the heart of the character. It’d be like taking the circus out of Dick’s story, or the love of Robin from Tim’s, or making someone other than Talia Damian’s mother. 

Jason is very aware that petty crime is often motivated by desperation. He literally lived that life. That’s why he’s never targeted people like that the way this book shows him to.

Even when he returned, he was never an indiscriminate killer and he was never violent for the sake of it. He didn’t beat the shit out of addicts because he was an impatient little bitch. He was methodical and calculative and he only killed people who preyed on the weak, the innocent, and the defenseless. 

Like the mob’s drug lieutenants who dealt to kids:

Like these bastards, who were deep in denial and broke Jason’s golden rule, no dealing to children. 

Because drug dealers purposefully target kids, relying on addiction to make them repeat customers for life.

Rapists and the scum who prey on people at their most vulnerable:

And nazis.

The fact is, Jason certainly has his faults, but he would never, ever, do this to an addict:

Writing him like he would is out of character. Drastically. 

Jason doesn’t go off half-cocked. He doesn’t jump in blind. These aren’t lessons he needs to learn in anything except this story which specifically wrote him as idiotic and mean as possible to squeeze him into the box the writer needed him to fit into.

Jason has never been written quite this bad before, but even if you take the few random instances over the last 15 years, where he’s been written as meaner and dumber than usual as his core character, how can you stand there and say that Bruce’s style is a calmer, more rational approach and say how he’s been written for the last 30 years is ooc????

For the kind of story Batman: Urban Legends seems to be telling, Bruce is literally the last character this message should be funneled through. Bruce is a billionaire (or... multi-millionaire, for now in the main continuity but who knows what’s canon for this). It’s so fucking tone-deaf to keep writing this kind of interaction between Bruce and Jason. 

Do I agree that Bruce should be written as more understanding and empathetic and less vicious than he sometimes is since the 80′s, by the way, this isn’t new? Absolutely.

Do I think this was a good example of that or a reasonable template going forward? Absolutely not. 

DC needs to stop sacrificing what makes Jason Todd interesting, what makes the character an excellent tool to tell meaningful, topical stories, for today’s audiences, just to prop up Bruce. 

For starters, Bruce doesn’t need that?

Their roles in this story don’t have to be swapped. There are ways to write this kind of stuff that doesn’t fuck up a character. See the above example with Penguin. And that’s from the fucking 80′s. How are Reagan-era comics telling stories about poverty, addiction, and reformed criminals with more nuance and tact and consideration than something in 2021????

I just think it’s fucking sad.

And extremely frustrating. 

[thecurioustale]

Okay, first, a quick tangent:

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out

This is exactly the story premise of small-town life for lower-class people throughout history. Most humans lived in these rural, small-town areas and their environs, and most didn't have the money to move around, assuming it was even safe and legal to do so (which it often wasn't). Travel in the lower classes did happen throughout human history, more so than I think we generally believe today, but for all intents and purposes most people were "trapped" in their small towns and had to fit in because it was an existential danger for them.

We all know of the huge divide today between urban centers going left and everywhere else going right, but often this is conceived of as cities open people's minds through experience and exposure to other peoples and ideas, and while this does happen there is also a contributing force from the other end: Living in a rural area enforces conformity and traditionalism. Historically, whenever rural areas have been bastions of leftism it was centered around economic advancement driven by pragmatic financial issues that large majorities of people could agree on.

Okay, tangent over. Just wanted to point that out.

My main reason for reposting this is:

Has anyone ever done a story where the generation ship actually gets there in one piece?!?! and everyone is like "Wow, that was a good trip! And everything worked out according to plan, if not better, and now the planet we're arriving at is as-advertised meaning lush and pleasant with no secret demons or anything horrible!"?

I often think to myself about how we are, right now, living in "The Age of Legends" aka the mythical golden age and/or era of the ineffable ancient ones that many a fictional story posits as a doomed-to-fail morality tale and cool milieu backdrop for providing secret tech and a sense of grand scale. But we're living in it, literally, in our day-to-day lives, on a planet where to most humans throughout most of history would think we were living like kings even though to us it is utterly mundane.

Humanity has this deep, deep insecurity to it that utterly dominates many people's worldview, I think. As a species we are so afraid of usurpation. We think other cultures are going to kill us. We think our technology is going to kill us. We think AI masterminds and/or Uber Clippys are going to kill us. We think bugs are going to kill us. We think food is going to kill us. We think antagonistic rivals, family members, and traitors are going to kill us. We're just as timid as deer and we don't even realize it.

Notwithstanding the very real hardships, threats, and struggles of modern life and of human civilization in general, and of nature itself, we live in a paradise of sorts, and admitting that you live in a paradise of sorts requires lowering your shields and making yourself vulnerable, or else the paradise can't come inside. And many people can't do this; they just can't.

It would be most unimpressive to say "Well, Josh, the reason they don't write stories where the generation ship actually gets there is because those stories are too boring." No, I don't buy that at all. I think it's because those stories are too scary.

And they are scary because they are subtle, intricate, and, for many, inconceivable.

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[minty-mumbles]

Foundlings

Summary: What if the Links weren't born? What if they just... appeared one day?

Author's Note: This was inspired by some asks on @tortilla-of-courage's blog

(Read it on Ao3 Here)

~~~

Everyone on Skyloft had a profound bond with their loftwing. Everyone. They would trust their birds with their life, and more significantly, the lives of their children, if they had any. It wasn’t a rare sight to see your neighbor’s loftwing watching after their child, or to see a loftwing carrying a wayward child back home.

And, although Skyloft is a small island, not everyone knows each other.

So they can’t be blamed, really, that they didn't notice right away that all the loftwings on the island were playing hot potato with a small child.

They only really started to notice when the headmaster of the Knight’s academy found his loftwing looking after not just his own daughter, but a young boy as well.

Before he could question it, or pick up the boy, another loftwing swooped in, snatching the boy up by the back of his tunic. The toddler didn’t seem to mind, squealing in excitement as the bird took him up to the roof.

Gaepora still might not have thought anything about it, except that he knew for a fact that that loftwing’s rider had died a year ago. That’s why the bird was here. It was still mourning its partner, and it was better for it to be around other loftwings. The communal nests for the loftwings at the academy were perfect for that.

And, as far as he knew, the loftwing hadn’t picked a new rider. So whose child was that?

~

After a good two or three weeks of searching for the child’s parents and simultaneously trying to get the boy away from the loftwings, they were still empty-handed.

The search for the parents was futile. Nearly everyone on the island knew about the boy now, and most had even seen their own loftwings carrying the boy around. No parent had stepped forward.

On the other hand, no one could actually manage to get the kid away from the loftwings. It was rare for the birds to completely disobey their riders, but in this, they seemed resolute. The boy would be staying with the loftwings, at least for now.

Gaepora pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at his daughter, who was currently giggling with the yet unmanned boy on his own loftwings back. This boy was going to be nothing but trouble, he could already feel it.

~~~

The master smith of Castle town wasn’t a slouch at hand-to-hand combat. He had never been formally trained in the subject. But he was a smith. Being a smithy was very physically taxing. He may be getting on a bit in years, but he could still swing a hammer and withstand the blazing heat of the forge.

So when he entered his shop in the morning and heard rustling behind the counter he kept his lockbox behind, he did not run to call the town guards. They wouldn’t even get here in time, and Smith could deal with the thief by himself.

When he rounded the corner of the counter with a shout, what he found was not what he expected. Instead, he found a little kid. Really, he couldn't be more than two or three. Instead of the lock box, he had been rooting around in a jar of cookies that Smith kept in the shop for the rather common occasion he got the munchies in the middle of the day.

The child was watching him with wide eyes, his gaze not wavering. He had far too much of an intelligent gaze for a two year old who had literally gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Smith looked around, foolishly hoping that the child’s mother would pop out from behind one of the shelves to claim the him.

No such luck, of course. Cursing his bleeding heart, Smith picked up the child and, hanging a sign on the door to tell his customers he was closed for the day, made his way home.

~~~

The Great Deku Tree was very old. He liked to take naps, which sometimes ended up lasting months. And he forgot things sometimes.

But he was pretty sure he wasn't actually asleep for more than a few hours this time. And he was sure he would have remembered this.

There was a child laying between his roots. An infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes, nestled in a bed of fallen leaves.

The Tree didn’t recognize him.

He would know if this was a Kokiri child. It was not. This child was as Hylian as they came. And yet, somehow, he had ended up here. Deep in the lost woods, where no adult could reach. At the very least, the fairies or the Kokiris would have woken him if there had been an intruder.

The Tree took his time examining the child, looking for any clues to his origins. He found none.

After a while, the baby started to fuss. The Deku Tree hummed, calling for a fairy to go fetch Saria. She was a responsible young lass. She would make sure the boy was well looked after.

He stayed contemplating the child long after he had been taken away by the Kokiri. That child would be one to make note of.

~~~

They were calling him the Hero of the Wind, now. She had smiled when she heard that, but to her, he would always be Link. She gave him that name, after all. She had named him after the previous hero when she found him. There had been no mother in sight to give her a different name, after all.

She hadn’t known where the baby had come from. When she had gone on an early morning walk one day, it had led to her finding a woven basket with a wailing infant inside it, washed up on the shore.

No one on Outset Island had a child this young, or was even pregnant. But Hylia would be damned if she left the babe there. Besides, she was lonely. Her husband had died a few years back, and her daughter had left Outset, rarely visiting. She wouldn’t mind someone to share her house with.

There were rumors. Of course there were. Outset island was a calm and peaceful place, but that didn’t mean all the people there were kind. Suddenly acquiring a child out of nowhere was suspicious. People called her a witch behind her back, not so subtly accusing her of stealing the child.

She had claimed that her daughter had come back from sailing to give Link to his grandmother, but no one had actually seen the young woman do so, so there were always skeptics.

And there was indeed a good reason that no one had seen her come back. It was because the woman hadn’t. No one but Granny would ever know the truth of it, she had vowed to herself.

But, eventually, the excitement died down. Link was a sweet boy. And, well, he had his Granny’s nose, after all, and his mother’s bright golden hair.

(And a few years after that, when she found Aryll on her front porch, surrounded by seagulls, people said much the same about the little girl.)

~~~

The Hero of Legend had humble beginnings, just like most of his brethren. Before he had started his journeys, he had grown up on a farm, looked after by his uncle. In truth, though, said uncle had no relation to him at all.

The nearby village thought he was just an orphan.

It wasn’t unusual. Families were torn apart often these days, sometimes literally, meeting brutal ends at the hands of monsters. Many times, this left children to wander, with no one to care for them. Sometimes, families would take them in and care for them like they were their own.

It was a bit odd that Link's Uncle would do so, as he had no wife to help him in raising a child. But after all, he had no wife, and never showed any signs of looking for one. Perhaps he wanted someone to look after him as he grew older, or just someone to share his house with. It must get lonely, all by himself in that huge farm, so far from town.

In truth, he couldn’t have done anything else, except take the kid in. He had been sucked in by the big eyes set into the sweet face the first time he set eyes on the boy.

The boy never made any mention of his previous family. But, thought his uncle, that was probably normal. Whatever happened to him before he found his way here couldn’t have been pleasant.

It was probably normal not to want to speak of it. And besides, there were apples that needed to be picked, animals to be fed, grain to be cut. There would be time for talking later. For now, he would focus on teaching Link the proper way to hold a cucco without being mauled.

~~~

Legend had it that the Hero of Hyrule started his adventure in a cave. What the Legends don’t tell is that he also started his life in that cave.

In his era, monsters roamed nearly everywhere. There were a few exceptions. One of these was a small cave. It was hidden deep in a forest, and generally ignored by all who passed it. Most who saw it assumed it was too small to be a proper shelter for anyone.

It was this assumption that made it the perfect spot for its inhabitants to hide. A group of fairies had stumbled across the cave, and claimed it for their own. It was undisturbed by the bigger creatures of the world, and it was the perfect size for them.

It was deep in this cave, soaked in fae magic, that this group of fairies found a tiny child. Or more accurately, he found them. When he wiggled through the crack of the cave opening and saw them, he giggled, clapping his hands.

They were uncertain at first. What was a young hylian doing out here? It shouldn't be possible. Where had he even come from? He couldn’t have made it all the way out here by himself.

Being naturally helpful creatures, they tried to search for the small one’s parents, but came up empty-handed. All the while, the child played with the strands of magic they conjured to entertain him.

Fairies have a poor sense of time. They just kept searching for the child’s parents. They fed him when he was hungry, and sang him to sleep when he was tired. They didn’t even notice that the child was growing up.

~~~

Wolves are not a common animal to see in Ordon. Generally, they preferred to stay away from the village.

There were exceptions. If there was a harsh winter, wolf packs might approach the village, looking for the easy meals the goats presented. If a wolf was sick, they might wander closer in confusion as well.

So when Uli looked out the window, and saw a large golden wolf in the middle of the goat pen, she was understandably shocked. The wolf looked healthy. Its fur coat was glossy, and even from this distance, Uli could see muscles rippled under its coat when it moved. There was no sickness in this creature. It was the height of summer. The game in the forest should be plentiful. There was no real reason for it to go after her goats.

Looking closer, she could see that the wolf was standing over something, likely one of her goats. She cursed, gripping the bow from the mantle that they kept for situations just like this, and exited the house.

When the wolf saw that he was being approached, he calmly turned away. Moving at a quick pace, he left behind the prize he was guarding, and returned to the edge of the forest. When he reached the forest, he turned to look back at her. With what looked disturbingly like a nod, he disappeared into the woods.

After watching for a few moments to make sure the wolf wouldn’t return, Uli turned to inspect the damage to the herd.

Instead of finding a dead goat, she found a small bundle of blankets. Filled with curiosity, she knelt, moving the blankets aside cautiously. What she found was the last thing she thought she would.

A toddler, curled up and sleeping peacefully, as if they hadn’t just been two feet away from a wolf.

Well. What was she to do with this, then?

~~~

There is no record of the Hero of Warriors from before the War. Most people from his era assume that it’s because he came from a little town in the middle of nowhere. A farm boy, a nobody who crawled up the ranks to become a war hero, a captain.

In reality, the Hero of Warriors was a rather special case. He was made for war. He was a savior of his people, just like his brethren, but a child does not a warrior make. And a warrior is what was needed.

He strode into Hyrule castle, among the swarm of other young men who were reporting to the recruiters in the front hall. In the chaos, the one who greeted him neglected to ask where the young man was from, and Link did not offer the information.

From that point on, he was only called Link, with no surname on his record. Eventually, that became Commander Link, and then Captain Link.

No one ever questioned where he had come from. It was usually best not to think about those things too hard.

~~~

There was no one alive who remembered the Hero of the Wild’s origins. That was to be expected. It had been well over a century since he was born, after all.

The hero himself could not remember, and all those who had known him from before barely knew about his family.

The story of his birth was lost, or so it seemed.

The truth was that there was no story to be told. The hero’s family had been a small one. A knight who served in Hyrule’s military, his wife, and a little daughter. When the daughter had been born, the wife had nearly died. The doctor had warned them that another child would likely kill her.

So, though they dearly wanted a son to carry on their family’s name, and for his father to train him the way of the sword, they were content with their little girl.

Fate had other plans for them, though. One morning when the daughter was about a year old, they had just sat down for breakfast when there was a knock on the door.

The knight stood to answer the door. When he opened it, he did not find one of their neighbors, or a messenger from the castle, as he had expected, but a young boy, maybe five or six years old.

When asked what he needed, he simply said that he was their son.

He waltzed right in and plopped himself down at the table, pleased as punch with himself.

The knight and his wife looked at each other in amusement. This might as well happen. They could afford to feed an extra mouth for a meal or two. They could go look for the little one’s parents after they ate.

[alexskarsgardnet]

New Interview & Photo Shoot!  Alex photographed by Johan Sandberg and interviewed by Timothy Small for L’Uomo Vogue (October 2020)!

Alexander Skarsgård: the photo shoot and interview for L'Uomo

BY TIMOTHY SMALL, JOHAN SANDBERG 25 SEPTEMBER 2020

Alexander Skarsgård is a really, really nice man. A Swede through and through, Alexander, or Alex, is a very down-to-earth gentleman who could definitely act as more of a big shot, considering he is also one of the most interesting actors in Hollywood right now, a town that, in true Swedish style, he once defined as “kind of silly”. After getting his first big break as the lead in David Simon's excellent Iraq War mini-series for HBO, Generation Kill, Skarsgård exploded in our collective imaginations as Eric Northman in True Blood, while also acting for Lars von Trier in the wonderful Melancholia. 

Since then, he has been a very buff Tarzan in The Legend of Tarzan, a mute bartender in future Berlin in Mute, a very dark killer in Hold the Dark, and a hilarious Canadian Prime Minister in Long Shot, as well as giving an Emmy- and Golden Globe-winning turn in HBO's Big Little Lies. The self-defined “restless” 43-year-old is set to star in The Northman, Robert Eggers's highly anticipated third film, a “Viking revenge story” that Skarsgård himself was crucial in bringing to production – and, by all accounts, it seems like it could have all the right pieces to become a future cult classic. It certainly has that kind of hype.

L'Uomo Vogue:  The Northman is such an interesting project. I know it's important to you. It's also part of a growing resurgence of interest in the Viking era and Norse mythology and that sort of epic Scandinavian adventure. How did it all begin?

Alex:  It all started seven or eight years ago. As a Swede living in America, I realised there was a certain level of fascination with the Viking era and Viking culture – and this was before any of the Viking shows that have since happened. It made me realise that there basically had never been a real great epic Viking movie made, and I thought that that's what I wanted to do.

LV:  So how did the project kick off?

Alex:  I started having conversations with a studio back then, trying to crack the best story. All I knew at the time is that I wanted to make a big Viking movie. We had a couple of potential different starting points: we had a story about two brothers, and then one about the Viking travels down to Constantinople with the Viking siege of the city. We were looking for the right story, but I never really felt we were there. I knew the scope I wanted it to exist in. But what was the story?

LV:  And that's when you met Robert Eggers.

Alex:  Yes, like three or four years ago. We met about something else. I can't remember how, but we started talking about Vikings. And he was, like me, a huge fan of Viking culture and of that historical era, and I immediately felt he would be the perfect guy to direct this movie. And then we found an author and poet in Iceland, Sjón, who came onboard to write the screenplay – and they did a fantastic job, just cracking the story and the essence of it.

LV:  Sounds great.

Alex:  It's a real adventure movie, but it's much more. It taps into the culture, and the mysticism of the Vikings, it becomes more intimate and more personal. I didn't want it to be a generic “swords-and-sandals” movie. Robert is one of the best filmmakers out there. And the whole process is so much more gratifying than when you're quote-unquote “just an actor”. It's been truly extraordinary.

LV:  But then you had to halt production.

Alex:  Yeah. I was in Belfast, Northern Ireland, three months into prep on The Northman about seven days away from principal photography. Just gearing up, you know, getting ready to start a very long, very intense shoot -- a shoot that we were scheduled to wrap in July – and that's when the virus hit.

LV:  What did you do then?

Alex:  I normally live in New York, while my family lives in Stockholm. When the first wave came, I was on the fence: nobody really knew how long it would be, or what precisely was going on. So we shut down production for six weeks. The idea was to then see what would happen. I basically moved to Stockholm for four months.

LV:  How do you feel about this forced break from work?

Alex:  I had not been home for this long in... more than 20 years. It was strange. We were in a bubble; we were all healthy and safe. In a lot of ways, I had moments when I felt being surrounded by my loving family, feeling safe and loved, and taking a break from work, but then also feeling very guilty because I was, for the lack of a better term, being spared.

LV:  In the past, you've described yourself as being a nomad. Did you miss Sweden and the North?

Alex:  I realised how much I have been missing it. I go to Sweden regularly, but usually only for three or four days, maybe a week, tops. My father and two of my brothers are actors, so we're used to never being in the same city. We all travel all over the world. Maybe we'd get back together for Christmas. And I can really say that I had missed spring in Sweden.

LV:  Do you think we will change the way movies are produced?

Alex:  We're going to have to figure out how to shoot movies with dozens of crew members and hundreds of extras while still respecting social distancing rules. It's an unprecedented situation and everyone is scrambling to figure out the best approach. My brother was one of the first people who worked in our industry during the pandemic. He shot a movie in Iceland in the middle of the lockdown. The way they solved it is they split the crew into colour sections. So, hair and make-up had yellow armbands and the camera department had blue, and they had a “Corona appointee” on set who would call out, “Now blue go in!” and then “Blue, out! And yellow, in!” And then they would all do their job in turns. It was very military-like. Productions are already complicated, so we'll just have to add another layer.

LV:  How did you become an ambassador to the Clarks brand?

Alex:  To me, authenticity is very important. I don't want to endorse products I don't genuinely like. That's why I was excited when Clarks reached out. I've been wearing Desert Boots for 25 years. Also, I like to travel a lot. I like to explore new cities by foot. I want to be able to walk around comfortably in a classic, iconic shoe. I travel from movie set to movie set, and I often live out of a suitcase. And this teaches you to be frugal. Whatever fits in that suitcase, that's all I can bring.

LV:  Is that the Swede in you?

Alex:  Maybe. But we consume way too many things in this society. Also, you give things more meaning when you live with them, and when you go on adventures with them. Like, these are my boots. I've been places with them. And when they fall apart, I'll buy a new pair. If you have the right stuff to begin with, you don't need more.

LV:  Going back to The Northman, that really sounds like a dream project.

Alex:  It is. It will be a rollercoaster ride. I can't wait to get back to Northern Ireland and get back to the production. It's also a very physically demanding project, so I have been training for, well, since a few months before production stopped.

LV: In a way, getting into a role, getting on a movie set, acting through it, the whole process of making a movie is a bit like a little adventure. You have to prep, you have to travel, often with people you don't know, and you have to push boundaries.

Alex:  Absolutely! A huge part of the appeal of this profession is you get to travel, and you meet amazing, interesting people from all over. And the uncertainty, you know? What was it, 12 years ago, I was in New York, and I'd never heard of Generation Kill. And then two days later I was on a plane to the Kalahari Desert to be out there for seven months to shoot the series. And I'll never forget the feeling, sitting on that plane, thinking, “Two days ago I didn't even know about this project, and here I am on my way to Southern Africa to spend seven months in the desert with 200 strangers.” It's very exciting.

LV:  What a feeling that must be!

Alex:  And every single job is like that. Every movie is different. Your part, the tone, the energy, the people – it's always different. And for someone like myself, who has that kind of wanderlust, who's always looking on the horizon, it's very attractive to never know just what the next adventure might be.

October 14, 2020:  Updated with the full interview courtesy of our friends at the ASkarsLibrary (x).

Fashion credits:

Photographs by Johan Sandberg Styling by Martin Persson Grooming Karin Westerlund @ Lundlund Hair Amanda Lund @ Lundlund Stylist’s assistant Isabelle Larsson Digital Daniel Lindgren Production Madeleine Mårtensson and Olle Öman @ Lundlund

Read the full interview by Timothy Small and see the photo shoot by Johan Sandberg in the October issue of L'Uomo, on newsstands from September 22nd.

Sources/Thanks:  Interview:  Timothy Small for L’Uomo Vogue (x), Photos:  Johan Sandberg for L’Uomo Vogue (x), artlistparis.com (x) via artlistparisnewyork instagram (x),  luomovogue instagram (x) &  atomomanagement.com (x) via atomomanagement instagram (x), our caps from artlistparisnewyork’s September 23, 2020 insta story (x, x)

[tempenensis]

Halo! Here's a reddit link to information and research papers about onmyodo consolidated by other people and a link to an overview. Tried to summarize below bits and pieces that may be relevant to jjk (and which I tried to understand to the best of my abilities :P )

I think this will be the last time I write such a long-ass ask again, my apologies

About cursed spirits and mono

Court onmyojis in Heian used divination to find out the cause of things like curses, strange events (kaii), natural disasters, illness, why your dog is barking at a seemingly empty spot (answer: Megumi's divine dog is barking back) and so on. Strange events were referred to as mokke (物怪) or mono no satoshi (もノノサトシ) and believed to be omens of calamity that were caused by mono or "things" which could be anything like the curses of gods or something from the Imperial mausoleums. Furthermore, during the rule of Emperor Kanmu from end of Nara to early Heian, the Ritsuryo system of government began to crumble as imperial rule changed hands and political victims were feared as onryō (怨霊) that caused disease or death to the Emperor's nearest relatives (but not the Emperor himself). The fear of strange phenomena spread through the aristocrats and became commonplace. Onymojis were believed to be able to deal with the curse of mono as well (otherwise it's off to the chopping board for their jobs (and lives) they go, chop chop). And so the Imperial Court funded them to perform quelling rituals and ceremonies to appease gods, clear away damages by insects, pray for harvests and prevent the spread of epidemics (which ironically was exacerbated by the court's overspending and large-scale deforestation but that's another story). For individual cases like the spirits of living persons (ikiryō or ikisudama), or spirits of dead people (akuryō, ryō, onryō, shiryō or bōkon), onmyojis might determine that spiritual energy or evil spirits (mono no ke) was the cause but mikkyō genja (験者) or ritualists were the ones to subdue it by incantations. JJK cursed spirits resemble mono no ke in that they cannot be seen and may harm humans. Whereas jujutsu sorcerers are more like genja ritualists (complete with flashy kamehameha bombs) (and besides being cursed).

Lifespan rituals

The most popular theory for Sukuna's fixation with Megumi has already been covered by this blog owner with additional info on the Ten Divine Treasures. Another theory is that Sukuna could have been aiming for a higher level of enlightenment. Besides the Shinto-Buddhism angle, Onmyodo also has its own set of rituals concerning life and death. Onmyodo is basically a system of divination and techniques that focuses on worldly benefits and has no vision of the world after death. The rituals were instead based on the Chinese beliefs in honmyō (本命), Zokushō (属星) or the realm of the dead (冥界) and by the end of Heian, there were more than forty Onmyodo rituals to pray for the individual health and longevity of aristocrats (commoners: eat the rich 👎). For the terms honmyō and Zokushō, the closest meaning I can give without being too horribly misleading would be the life/destiny that you are born with according to your birth year, zodiac, constellation and so on. The most popular ritual was Taizan Fukun sai (泰山府君祭), which originated around the beginning of the tenth century and was closely associated with Abe no Seimei (yes that guy you keep seeing in anime). Taizan Fukun (泰山府君) is the lord of the eastern peak of Mt. Tai in China, a deity that summons the spirits of the dead and administers the lengthening and shortening of human lifespans. Twelve deities of the realm of the dead including Taizan Fukun were involved in this ritual. It was implemented on every honmyō day, but also as needed for illness, childbirth, natural disasters, and strange events. Media adaptations often depict Abe no Seimei (or other onmyojis) using the ritual for resurrection or reincarnation 😅 e.g. Tokyo Ravens, Shaman King, Onmyoji (2001). I don't think Gege will go for the same cliché trope for Sukuna but it's still interesting to know.

Seimei and Dōman (Gojo and Getou)

Anyone who knows about the folklores of Abe no Seimei 安倍 晴明 would be familiar with his eternal rival, Dōman 道満. Like Gojo who's the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Seimei was the leading onmyoji specialist of his time. His position as the Kurōdo-dokoro onmyōji (highest-ranking onmyoji), legendary reputation and long lifespan lent to the notion that he had mystical powers due to being born from a human father and a kitsune mother. During Heian, Onmyodo referred to the organization of onmyojis under the control of high-ranking people of the same profession (kinda like the JJK elders) rather than the system of beliefs known today. Onmyōji with official status like Abe no Seimei would be kanjin onmyōji (官人陰陽師) or official onmyōji. Non-official onmyojis would include hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師) or priest onmyōji, who had the appearance of Buddhist priests (like how Getou was dressed as a cult leader), and presumably the control of the Onmyōdō did not extend to them. Official onmyōji, under the strict supervision of their superiors, would not have been permitted to have any connection with criminal acts such as curses. Instead, the Heian nobility turned to hoshi-onmyojis like Dōman to lay curses on their political rivals. There were many incidents involving curses within aristocratic society in Seimei’s time, and in a majority of cases the curses were placed by hōshi-onmyōji. Dōman himself had been spotted visiting a noblewoman, Takashina no Mitsuko, who employed hōshi-onmyōji to put a curse on several prominent political figures. Getou: "Let's curse each other... to our hearts' content!"

War onmyojis (and questioning of Gege's probable naming sense)

The Sengoku era treated court onmyojis poorly (ceremonies were expensive to fund). Warrior onmyodo being more practical (divining auspicious days for battle/forming alliances and exorcising evil spirits) became prominent instead. Academies that taught Confucian studies with divination and medicine as part of the curriculum flourished and the most famous was Ashikaga Gakkō (足利学校) (not as modern as Tokyo Jujutsu High though). Like Nanami and co. who became professional sorcerers, many of its students went to the battlefield as diviners and doctors. When peace returned during Tokugawa Ieyasu's rule, a few practitioners thrived by attaching themselves to powerful men. One would be Tenkai (天海) and another Kanshitsu Genkitsu, head of the Ashikaga Gakko. Being Ieyasu's bff, a temple Fushimi Enkoji (伏見円光寺) modeled after Ashikaga was built and Kanshitsu appointed as its head. Ieyasu also sponsored Kanshitsu's Fushimiban (伏見版), a publication project printed with wooden blocks. I'm definitely reaching here for Tengen and Fushiguro but I do wonder if Gege ever chanced upon those names.

🦆A Tail of Many Kamos: 鴨川, 下鴨, 鴨, 加茂, 賀茂 🦆

鴨川 - the Kamo river northeast of the Heian capital (modern Kyoto)

下鴨 - the Shimogamo Shrine (下鴨神社), a Shinto shrine dedicated to the Kamo family of kami

鴨 - the clan associated with the Kamo shrines and the famous poet-priest Kamo no Chōmei (鴨 長明) who witnessed the end of Heian. Also Bucephala albeola.

加茂 - Kamo no matsuri (加茂祭) or Aoi no matsuri (葵祭), an annual festival of Shimogamo Shrine and Kamigamo Shrine and one of the three major festivals in Kyoto, also one of the three big jujutsu clans (加茂家) in JJK. It's funny that Gege would choose a name with the same pronunciation as a real-life historic clan, which brings to the next point.

賀茂 - the formal name of the Shimogamo Shrine (賀茂御祖神社), also a once-prominent Heian Onmyoji family that died out during the Sengoku era. Thereafter, the Tsuchimikado (former Abe clan) took over their hereditary duties of keeping the calendar. Abe no Seimei's teacher was the astrology scholar (tenmon hakase 天文博士) Kamo no Yasunori (賀茂保憲). Could Kenjaku be based on Abe no Seimei as well?

The Musical Exorcist

The rock-n-roll grandpa, Gakuganji, might be based on the lesser known lute-priests called biwa-hoshi (琵琶法師) or zatō (座頭). Their musical style is referred to as heikyoku (平曲), which literally means "heike music". Accompanied by their mōsō-biwa (盲僧琵琶), the often-blind lay priests would chant Buddhist mantras, placate earth deities, perform spirit pacification chinkon (鎮魂) of vengeful spirits including onryō, communicate with the dead (Principal Yaga 😢), purify defilements haraikikyomeru (祓い清め) and border rites kyōkai girei (境界儀礼) that expel malign forces. The thesis "From Heike to Nomori no kagami" suggests that the musical practices and theories of Heike correlate with Yin-Yang principles. Which I will not further expound bcos I haz zero music theory knowledge and also this ask is far too long 😛 Hopefully Gakuganji will not remain blind to the less-than-holy intentions of the jujutsu higher-ups as the story continues.

Hello, lore anon! Thank you for compiling another stellar read!

Aaw, you'll be missed, but it's fine. Just do things and drop by if you feel like it.

Yes, onmyodo has a large influence on Japanese pop culture. Numerous manga takes their inspiration from onmyodo, jjk only one of them. Onmyouji had a very large political influence in the court. They were also a legit government position, literally civil servants back in the day.

The legend of Abe no Seimei and his rival Ashiya Douman is also famous. Abe no Seimei was said to be born from a kitsune (fox spirit) mother and human father, so he is often thought to not be fully human, hence his supernatural ability. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these characters is inspired by either Seimei or Douman; Sukuna, Kenjaku, or Tengen.

Kamo, yes, it seems that Gege actually takes the name of the clan. The fanbook said that Kamo clan arised to influence during the heyday of Heian period, the Golden age of Jujutsu. While it's lesser known, Kamo family is quite a legend too alongside Abe no Seimei in onmyoudou. As you said, Kamo no Tadayuki and his son Kamo no Yasunori has been known to teach Abe no Seimei.

[groundbreakingdot872]

"Are they together now?"

Actually IN TEARS

-*-

Although Arthur was called the 'Once and Future King' I still think this was more of a metaphor, or a common legend than actual reality. (Full disclosure tho, I WISH they would come back!) I think the theme of 'the dead never really return' hits the nail on the head and was the show's way of telling the viewers that the impossible... was just impossible all along.

Merlin gets strung along on this last line bc he’s hopeful to a fault, (and bc Kilgarrah is a sneaky lizard to a fault lmao) and the idea that the ‘golden age’ of Arthur would return - and become immortalized - was really the only thing he believed in by the later seasons…

(A good example of his die-hard optimism for the legend would be in the s4 finale, where everything goes to shit, and any reasonable friend would give their friend ‘gentle criticism’ on their flaws, that some of it IS valid. Tristan was right on some lvl -

Arthur paid too much attention to the schemes and issues in his citadel and was ignorant to the everyday problems of his surrounding kingdom. But instead of trying to explain this to Arthur, as kindly as possible, Merlin doubles down on this ‘legendary’ idea, faking the sword in the stone, even though, he, of all people, would know Arthur had never bought into the idea of his special status anyway.)

Yes!, the Fisher King was an immortal, ✨magical✨ King but I would argue that his passing and advising of Merlin had nothing to do with Arthur and had more to do with Merlin.

This isn’t a fully-fledged idea, and I've seen it as an hc from some other people: that Merlin is the ‘Future’ to the ‘Once and Future King’, as the second side of the coin, he immortalizes the legend and keeps magic alive in Albion just by his living through the next 1,500 years…

I don't believe Arthur's destiny was fulfilled only through Gwen. I believe she fulfilled some of it, but, if there's no magic now, does that mean she failed? What happened to magic? When and why did it become a myth?

These are good questions! But I don’t necessarily believe that bc there is no magic in our world now (as far as we know 😉) - Gwen failed.

I think magic, as a concept, was bound to disappear anyway, If we’re to take realism into account. Merlin’s time saw the rise and fall of many rulers who were too pragmatic, too keen on squashing down the enigmas and unexplainable energy magic thrives on.

And if we’re to go with the explanation that ‘bC oF sCiEnCe’ magic eventually faded away, I think it was bound to happen anyways. Besides, a golden age is only ‘golden’ if it’s a short period of time, right? 

I do like your second idea of a more ‘successional’ and continuous period of happiness and prosperity in Camelot! Though I guess that's also contradictory according to history (smh), with Camelot falling to the Saxons shortly after Gwen's rule.

also

💜I LOVE THE IDEA OF GWEN BEING THE NATURAL NEXT STEP IN THE EVOLUTION OF RULERS GAH💜

That's poetry right there!, I gotta admit she showed them up, and Camelot was in left in capable loving hands after Arthur - something he completely supported!

Imo, I think 'gifting' Gwen the throne after Arthur's death was the best thing the writers did for her all of seaosn 5. After sidelining her in most of the plots, and reducing her charcter as a voice-peice for Arthur's [deemed] greater self-esteem, leaving Camelot in her hands was both bittersweet but a neccessary change for the Kingdom to flourish.

A new era was in bloom, one that makes the chant 'For Camelot' ring all the more true!

I searched through every Merlin episode transcript for the phrase "For the love of Camelot!". Arthur usually shouted it before a battle, and everyone else would parrot it back to him (eg. The Coming of Arthur, The Sword in the Stone, The Diamond of The Day, etc.). He also simply used "For Camelot!" at least once (Lancelot). I wondered if anyone other than Arthur had independently used the expression, not in response to Arthur, and I found that only one other person had.

In the same episode that "For the love of Camelot!" was first used, by Arthur, Gwen said it to Arthur, while he was on his deathbed:

You're not going to die, Arthur. I'm telling you. Because I know that one day you will be King. A greater king than you father could ever be. It's what keeps me going. You are going to live to be the man I've seen inside you, Arthur. I can see a Camelot that is fair and just. I can see a king that the people will love and be proud to call their sovereign. For the love of Camelot, you have to live.

At first, I thought Uther had also used that expression, since he was once King of Camelot and all his decisions had allegedly been made in Camelot's best interests. Yet he hadn't, and I couldn't even find an episode where he'd said "for the good of Camelot" or something like it, though I'm almost certain he used a variation of those words more than once.

This whole thing began because I had theorized that Arthur, Gwen, and Uther alone had uttered the phrase "For the love of Camelot!". To me, that would've reflected the fact that they, and only they, ever had the honor of being accepted as legitimate rulers of Camelot. They'd cared for Camelot the most, and their different approaches to ruling fascinate me. It's somewhat poetic that, in the end, Gwen was the only one besides Arthur to independently proclaim "For the love of Camelot!". She and Arthur ruled together for a few years, and they had similar beliefs and thoughts on ruling Camelot.

Arthur was constantly divided between Uther and Gwen, between tradition and reform. Uther and Gwen represented opposing styles of ruling: Uther represented the conservative, patriarchal, authoritarian style of ruling, which placed power above people; Gwen represented social reform, equality, kindness, a more modern approach to ruling in which the strength of a kingdom was measured by the well-being of its people and not its military prowess.

Arthur was the first in Camelot to knight commoners, breaking the first rule of the Knight's code, and to walk away from tradition by both marrying a servant and marrying for love; he shared Gwen's vision of a "fair" and "just" Camelot (descriptors they both used).

However, fear, outside pressure, and loyalty to his father, often steered Arthur towards Uther's vision of a strong, powerful Camelot. For example, in Another's Sorrow, Gwen worried Arthur was seeking revenge for his father's death; Arthur almost started a war to achieve it, as Uther would've done. In the end, he chose peace over revenge, but, in his grief, Arthur had almost failed to see reason. He initially showed Odin that Camelot's biggest strength was its Army, only to prove that Camelot's biggest strength was actually Arthur's kindness, hope, and compassion.

I just find it so fascinating that Arthur, Uther, and Gwen were all connected through Arthur. The figurative tug-of-war between Uther and Gwen was the main contributor to Arthur's growth. That's even more meaningful when you remember that Gwen wasn't just Arthur's love interest and moral compass, but also a future ruler of Camelot.

Throughout the series, Camelot knew four rulers: Uther, Morgana, Arthur, and Gwen, and all of them rose to power differently. Morgana and Uther "took" Camelot by force, through war (though the people of Camelot never recognized Morgana's claim to the throne); Arthur, on the other hand, inherited Camelot by birthright, and Gwen via her marriage to Arthur. The people of Camelot never chose any of their sovereigns, but they had approved of Arthur and Arthur approved of Gwen. In fact, Arthur and Gwen were the closest Camelot ever came to a democratically elected leader: Arthur, because he genuinely had the majority of his people's support, and Gwen, because she was chosen, by Arthur, based on merit and not on her royal blood or her connections. Gwen didn't become Queen because she was born into the right family. She became Queen because of her morals and her commitment to Camelot, even if Arthur had also married her for love.

Arthur and Gwen were truly the only rulers of Camelot who ever had the right to claim to do anything "for the love of Camelot!".

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

[morihaus]

Folklore

Two apprentices make their way to the shore of the Isle of the Wise, basket and blanket in tow, already chattering away with one another. Although the College of the Sapiarchs has a reputation its rigorous and cutthroat academic atmosphere, even its most studious pupils are encouraged to take reprieves from their works, if not for their own benefit then for the benefit of the hardworking staff, those who have earned their own breaks from instructing and professing, as well as those who have important duties and research of their own to attend to.

Runalenwe and Pannolaire each possess their own cutthroat reputations, so it is with some surprise that their peers observe them taking these personal allowances of unstructured time not to get a leg up on their competition, but to get out from the halls of learning and into the natural splendor of the wild. They always take their breaks together, ostensibly to keep an eye on their most spirited and contentious academic rival, but also in the spirit of camaraderie; even as they have butted heads over their decades-long apprenticeships, they have found themselves rather transfixed on one another, interested, entertained, some might even say 'enamored.' It's true that they might consider themselves lovers, but they were not young or carefree, rather their love was ennobling and constructive, a means to an end- they would say- and all the fun they have along the way is merely incidental.

Runalenwe reaches what she considers a good place to rest, a nice shady spot under a tree, waves lapping at the shore before them. She unfurls the bright sheet they've brought at, inviting Pannolaire to take her seat before her, to which the other woman smiles and sets herself down very prim and proper. As Runalenwe joins her, she sets their woven basket down beside them, and continues on with their line of dialogue.

"Quite the ambitious project, a catalogue of Tamriel's famed magical artifacts," Pannolaire says. "Was her 12-page dissertation on the Flask of Lillandril not enough?" Her dark crest of brown hair seems to shimmer with life in the sun's light, as does the dress of decorative feathers and scales that she's donned instead of her apprentice's garb. Her companion thinks she cuts a figure rather like a bird of paradise, head held high against her collar of colorful plumage.

"Oh, I'd be fascinated to hear how many she can turn up." Runalenwe replies as she gets comfortable, propping herself up with an elbow against the blanket. "The research will be interesting- and her reports are always wonderfully detailed to be sure. The problem is by just 20 years time, I'm sure we'll be made aware of several new artifacts, or new qualities to the ones we already know, and all her work will be made obsolete. That's the problem with such presumptuous 'catalogues', better to channel your focus on just one thing. She clearly wishes she could be Sapiarch of just about every discipline!" She laughs, a few strands of her curly straw-colored hair swinging free of her top-bun. It's a noble laugh, haughty and mocking, yet it touches Pannolaire just the same as the warm bubbling laugh that came out of her honestly, most often when they were alone.

Pannolaire unpacks the food she'd brought, laying out the small spread as they continue to speak. Rolls of bread, fresh fruit, aged wine, and shellfish. "Which single artifact would you focus on?" Pannolaire glances up as she hands her a warm roll. "Some destructive staff? A weather worker?"

She chuckles, taking a small bite and clearing her mouth before responding. "Oh, Pannolaire, I've more interests than just shocking the daylights out of things! It's funny you should ask, actually."

"It is?" Pannolaire says.

"Yes, and I'll tell you why." Runalenwe grins.

Pannolaire smiles as well, cracking into a shellfish with practiced grace. "Please do."

"You are, I'm sure, familiar with the Ring of Phynaster? Artifact created by the ascended Aldmeri sorcerer Phynaster, great explorer and adventurer, a hero of the High King Aurthelel's court?" Pannolaire nods, not speaking for modesty as she samples some fruit. "It provides the wearer with protection against magics and poisons- it's popularly believed to have been created to facilitate in Phynaster's daring yet dangerous lifestyle, and even to have aided in his mythical long stride. But this story has been confused with time- it is misunderstood by so many of the scholars of Tamriel, those who forget that Phynaster was once one of us, a mortal, with mortal wants, mortal acquaintances."

Pannolaire watches Runalenwe as she orates, every word uttered with such a poise to belie rehearsal, and yet her character is so spontaneous, like an arc of lightning from a hand, or the first crackle of thunder. These qualities make her quite the speaker to spectate, and so she hangs on her every word.

"Phynaster himself was quite a cautious sort- his stride wasn't simply long, it was measured, well-conceived through careful calculation. His safety and longevity was more or less the product of a wise and careful mind. He did not forge his famed ring for his own sake, but for the sake of a lover." Runalenwe's lips curve into even more of a satisfied smile, the kind that tells Pannolaire she's hanging knowledge over her head right now, a coy mocking gesture. She shoots her a look as though to say 'don't leave me in suspense', and the other apprentice continues on. "A certain firebrand, another mage of Aurthelel's court, the oldest and most venerable court of Alinor, composed of only the most respected ancestors; Phynaster, Syrabane, Ruilil, Peregrine- even noble Trinimac brushed shoulders with her and counted her as his peer, as well as his comrade in arms. She was Eeartora the Tempest, queen of the skies, her words commanded storms and her spells sundered coral citadels to the depths of the sea, all to be forgotten as her own legend grew. It was she who caught the first Alinor Sunbird and brought it, unscathed, to the feet of King Aurthelel, and it was she who first mounted a great gryphon and rode it, as Welkynar, into battle."

Her audience of one helps herself to some shellfish as the other sings the praises of this noble and venerated ancestor. Runalenwe considers herself a woman of action, but Pannolaire finds her waxing lyrical on the matters of magic, of magicians, and most anything having to do with her noble clan of wizards. "That certainly sounds like the type of woman who could benefit from such a ring." Pannolaire remarks, smiling and discarding the now emptied remains of her morsel, golden eyes locked on her companion.

"Indeed!" Runalenwe agrees heartily, laughing softly to herself. "And that is what he must have thought, for with her in mind he endeavored to create the powerful artifact that we know today. She was its first holder, and she would go on to bequeath it to her descendants, before ascending to join with her lover in Aetherius..." Her smile lingers, Pannolaire can feel the purposeful pause she is taking and raises a hand to her lips as she chuckles for her lover's theatrics. "Eeartora's line would follow in her wake, living as war mages, welkynars, and studious heroes of their eras. What's more," She raises her chin proudly at this, the rays of sunlight giving a glow to her tan skin. "Her line leads directly to yours truly."

"Ah, I see... no wonder you were going out of your way to flatter her to such a degree." Pannolaire remarks, smirking behind her gloved hand.

Runalenwe scoffs, but smiles. "I can't be shamed for honoring my ancestors, can I?" And with that, she reaches down and helps herself to some fruit, satisfied with her piece.

Her lover gives her a moment's rest, then says something with no other goal than to prod at her ego. "I'm not sure I believe you. I mean, such a famed and legendary ancestor- I've known whole hosts of wizards who give her worship."

Runalenwe, true to form, almost chokes on her apple. "You don't believe me!?" She asks with raised brows, somewhat aware of the game they now play, somewhat genuinely scandalized.

"I'm not sure if I believe you." She corrects her.

"I'll have you know there are extensive genealogical records in my family's tomb!"

Again, Pannolaire laughs behind her hand, and her lover's eyes trace the glimpse of her lips. "Well then, you must take me there on our next sabbatical."

This time, Runalenwe's laugh is brash and untempered, her grin wrinkles her freckled face and her shoulders bob up and down. "Sabbatical! Oh, how rich- what are we, twelfth years???"

Pannolaire laughs along with her, laying beside her, sharing this bright and tranquil day all to themselves. Their hearts are light- they race when they stack their projects up against one another's, when they give presentations knowing that the other is watching, whenever they hold formal dialogue with their peers and mentors watching. How odd it is that their hearts race now, alone together, wearing no uniform and beheld to no observation, no assessment, free to be as they are. Runalenwe's hand finds its place in Pannolaire's, and after an interlude of silence and pecking at their meal, one speaks back up.

"...I'm no good with enchanting, but," Pannolaire says, dark lids drooping as her eyes wander out to sea. "I'm a fool for such romantic gestures... I would love to make you something, something just for you." With these words she shuffles up against Runalenwe's side, leaning against the other woman.

Runalenwe raises her arm to wrap around Pannolaire's waist, pulling her closer still. She leans in to press her head against the other's. "How sweet." Her forehead lies against her temple, her lips hover about her ear as she speaks softly. "What would you make for me, Pann?"

Pannolaire thinks on her skill sets, shifting about with a small bubble of nervousness. She lets herself fall closer against Runalenwe's soft embrace, letting out a long sigh. "A book on etiquette, perhaps."

The other woman chuckles. "I'm classically trained, love."

"In Aldmeri, sure. But would you know how to say 'good day' to a Nord?" Pannolaire retorts.

She laughs again, and for lack of a response presses her lips against her cheek. Pannolaire laughs too, forgetting the lunch they'd packed and shifting about to bury her face in the crook of her lover's neck, leaving a couple of black marks where she plants her kisses. Arms wrapped around her, Runalenwe replies. "Do they have those- good days- in that frigid country of theirs? Honestly, I'd be shocked if they see the sun."

Pannolaire pulls away only to smile and laugh at her peer. "Of course they see the sun!" The two chuckle on that point for a moment, before she settles in once again. "Well, actually, there is an interesting phenomenon that occurs at extreme northern latitudes- sunless days- they only happen at select parts of the year though..."

Runalenwe, content to hold her lover's body as she goes into a long tangent about novel astronomical phenomena and the Nordic holidays that coincide with them, closes her eyes and smiles. Her hand slowly traces Pannolaire's side, gentle and unobtrusive, as not to distract her from her speech.

She easily goes on for nearly half an hour, and it's only Runalenwe's reminder of the cooling food that makes her take pause, before the two resume their dialogue. They continue on like this until the sun dips down, embraced by the sea.

[bozers]

Paid Time Off  Ch. 1

 Well I finally wrote a fic. First one ever and it’s freakin League of goddamn Legends. Who would have thought.

Just some fun with our boys Jayce and Viktor before things go terrible. Takes place a year after Act 1 of the show. Rated T. Alcohol reference.

Chapter 2

It was nearing midnight, and nearly everyone in the academy halls had gone home for the evening. Two men remained, creating what would be some of their best work -work that would carry Piltover to the next era, and cement their names as legends. Although, neither of them were in it for the latter, their hearts were firmly set on making the world better, and they had found that commonality to be the cementing force that allowed for such incredible discovery and unimaginable inventions. Thus, late nights such as these had become common. Ambition and dedication to their ideal had consumed their waking lives for the past year and a half, one incredible breakthrough after another had kept these boys busy. The public couldn't get enough of the golden boy, Jayce, and Viktor was elated with the thrill of finally having the funding to finally pursue his own ideas. After years supporting other people’s dreams he finally had his own in the palm of his hand.

In the fading sunlight filtering through large bay windows, sat Viktor at his crowded desk, shuffling and organizing notes into large binders. On the other side of the cluttered room, Jayce was scribbling speech notes for  tomorrow's presentation. His hand scrubbed through his hair as fatigue and frustration set in.

“I am sick of writing speeches.” Jayce moaned into his hands as he ran them down his face “How much more can I say besides ‘here it is, look in wonder, dear citizens…!’”

Viktor, not wanting to lose his place in the page numbering process merely mumbled a half hearted consolation.

“I can’t put any more flair on it after the past 100 speeches I’ve given, it’s so…samey.” Jayce continues talking to himself “I don’t want to be samey, Viktor!.”

“Yes? What?” Victor manages to reply. He had only allowed 15% of his brain’s capacity to follow along with all of Jayce’s belly-aching this evening.

Jayce turned around in his chair, glaring over at his partner. “I said, let’s take an actual break after this presentation. We haven’t had a moment to breathe since we stabilized the crystals.”

Viktor actually turns around in his seat this time “Why? And of course we haven’t. Things have been moving too fast to take a break, we talked about this.” His eyebrow is pitched but his voice steady.  

“That’s exactly what I mean!” Jayce throws both hands forward to reinforce his point, the force causing his rolling char to spin a few times. “We are going to burn out if we aren’t careful, make mistakes, or worse…” 

Viktor draws his mouth into a line and furrows his brows “Worse?”

“Like writing a shitty speech and botching our very important presentation and missing our deadline to submit our research.” Jayce lists each of these reasons off on a finger. “Oh and 

blowing ourselves up.”

“You are saying a lot of “we”, I have all my work ready.” Viktor says, sweeping his hand across the expanse of half done research binders. “And!” He added haughty “it’s been a whole 3 weeks since anything I’ve worked on has blown up!”

“No, no, no you aren’t deflecting this, you are just as tired out as I am.” Jayce waves his arms, slicing through the air, like he’s trying to chop sense into his friend.

“I’m not tired! I was just born with physical maladies, you know that!” Viktor’s attempts to confuse and divert the attention of his sleep deprived friend only fueled the fire of his amition.

“Yeah Viktor, of course I know that.” He answered as seriously as the grave. “But that's not what I mean! Remember the time when we pulled an all-nighter and you put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard?!” He jabbed his finger towards Viktor, a crooked grin on his face.

“That was one time!” Viktor slumped back in his chair, exasperated. Jayce was not going to let him forget about that particular blunder…

“Ah!” Viktor jerked back up, “You! Last night, you walked out and back in the room several times forgetting what tool you were going to get! You stood in the doorway staring for 20 minutes!” 

“Yes!” Jayce was yelling now, laughing on the back half “Because I was exhausted. I'm still exhausted! You’ve just reinforced my point.”

Viktor crossed his arms, a manic bubble of laughter threatened to escape his lungs but he kept it down.

 “So,” Jayce continued, “ I am saying “we” should both take a break because we are…we. Like, a team. Together.” His eyes dart around as he gradually loses his train of thought. “You know what I mean, we have to think about ourselves for once.” 

Viktor sighs, and can't help a smile that is creeping up the sides of his mouth. Sometimes, he thinks to himself, he can forget Jayce is actually quite human and serves as a reminder that Viktor is as well. “Well, fine.” he begins, clearing his throat. “What would you like to do? If we were to take a break?”

Jayce leans back in his chair, brow furrowed, suddenly all business. “I just want to sleep in. And not have to worry about deadlines, or meetings, or presentations, or the council or-”

“Or Heimerdinger breathing down our necks? The whole counsel and board of directors while we're at it.” Victor's tone settles into a casual rhythm, he hadn’t really thought about entertaining anything besides work since he and Jayce met. “And, read a book that has nothing to do with what we are working on. A, eh, a romance novel for a change!” Viktor says remembering a paperback that’s been sitting neglected on his bedside table for months. He is actually starting to like the idea more and more. 

Jayce chuckles at this, his face relaxing now that he got Viktor talking. “Now you're thinkin!  Let's take…a week? A week is enough time, but not too long that it will upend our schedule.”

“A week? Oh, Jayce, I’m not sure…” Viktor thinks about his planner that’s currently buried under five revisions of notes, one that holds a meticulously strategized schedule for the foreseeable months to come.

“Please Viktor, it will be good for both of us,” He looks around them and the controlled chaos of their lab and home away from home. “It will be good for the work too.”

Viktor leans back in his chair, releasing a long breath of air, deflating while absently rubbing his leg. “I suppose…when you put it like that, how can I argue?” 

Jayce all but leaps out of his chair, and from the corner of his eye, Viktor could swear he had at least a few extra seconds of hang time in the air. Or maybe that was just the sleep deprivation. 

God, maybe he really did need a break after all.

“Yes! Let’s do it!” Jayce pumps his fist in the air “I already know what I’m going to say for my speech.”

“Say what? ‘Bye bye suckers I am going on vacation and drinking myself silly for a week don’t call me?’” Viktor recites in a completely flat tone.

Jayce stares for a beat before sputtering and barking out a surprised laugh.  “You know,” he says wiping a tear from the corner of his eye “I might just.”

“Don’t you dare.” Viktor replies with a touch of actual panic. 

Jayce only winks, twirling around to sit heavily back down, picking up on his speech, his shoulders not saging nearly as much now. 

Viktor smiled at the back of his head, lines wrinkling at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t know what his career, or even his life would be like if he never met Jayce, but he knew that he wouldn’t smile like this nearly as much.

They both returned to their respective tasks, the sun fully set now, bathing the room in blue and silver tones. Only the light shuffle of papers, and the ticking of the clock could be heard. 

“Oh,” Jayce broke the silence after a few minutes “I also want to try out that new restaurant that opened. Or like, eat out at all really.”

“You know,” Viktor mused “all this talk of cutting loose is reminding me of finals, back when I was in school.”

“It feels exactly like that! Like we’ve been cramming for finals all year, and just bout to finally get summer break.” Jayce giggles “Oh man, I remember back in highschool, we would burn our homework in celebration of the term ending.”

Viktor hums “Well, I never did anything as exciting as arson, but I did celebrate. Not unlike most youths at the time.”

Jayce has turned back around to face the other man again fully by this point, “Like what?” His face betrayed how curious he really was. That was one thing Viktor liked about Jayce, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. And right now they were focused on prying bits of his personal life into the open. 

Viktor pondered his answer for a moment. “You know, going down to the old quarry, drinking illegally, throwings things into said quarry….maybe a little dancing.” He said, but a bit quieter.

Jayce lit up “Viktor. Were you a party boy”?

Viktor dropped his face in his hands, shoulder shaking slightly from the laugh he tried to stifle. 

“Listen,” Viktor said between hissing laughs “listen, no boy of fifteen years is immune to the allure of throwing things into a quarry!” He tried to stay serious but the hard edge of his voice only made the statement sound more absurd. “But yes, I was, how you say, “‘on the scene.’”

Jayce laughed without reservation, clutching his stomach and trying to catch his breath. Viktor would normally take offense at someone laughing at his expense, but he had been around Jayce long enough to know that was far from the case. 

Jayce finally got his breath back, coughing, then was able to form words again “I would never have guessed that about you. Dancing? Were you any good? Did you have a date?”

Viktor waved his hand dismissively, “No nothing like that, I was only able to do simple steps back then, with some close friends to an old record. But those days are long behind me now.” His tone was even, but he tended not to ruminate on things he couldn't do, out of principle. 

Jayce bit his lip, realizing he probably shouldn't have mentioned it. “Ah, I see.” and he left it at that. “Well, I can’t say I know a good quarry, but would you maybe want to grab a drink to celebrate after our presentation tomorrow? Kick off our vacation with a bang?”

Viktor’s eyebrows shop up for only a moment before resuming their usual positions. “Oh, uh, I suppose we could. Can’t see the harm.” he said in a rather clipped way, not really looking at Jayce.

Jayce coughed and said “I understand if you would rather take a break from me, hell I’m surprised you aren’t sick of me as it is.” He was also looking away, laughing awkwardly.

“That isn’t even close to being true.” Viktor said urgently,  “I am not tired of you Jayce, your companionship is rather important to me, so having a drink with you would be an honor.”

And that was all true, straight from the heart.

It was Jayces’s eyebrows turn to shoot up in surprise, they stayed there while his mouth hung open. “Oh, uh, thank you! Or, uh, good to know!” He was floundering but eventually recovered with a smooth: “Likewise.” He managed to keep his hands from forming finger guns. 

Viktor chuckled warmly. He couldn't help but appreciate how open Jayce was, freely showing every peak and valley of his mind's flow of consciousness. It’s what made him a good scientist. A good man. 

A good friend. 

“Well then if we are doing this,” Victor grabbed his cane and hauled himself up out of his chair with a grunt  “then I have a place in mind we could go, if you are game.” He extended his hand out to Jayce.

The other man looked at him, wide eyed, but grasped his hand firmly, letting Viktor help him out of his own chair. 

“Of course I’m game.” Jayce was really excited, but he kept his face and volume level.

“Then, meet me in front of my apartment tomorrow night at 6?” Viktor tilted his head down, peering though his eyelashes up at Jayce, pinning him in place. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Jayce clapped Viktor on the shoulder, letting his grip on his hand slowly slip away.

“Alright, let’s go get some sleep. We have the masses to awe and inspire tomorrow.” Victor said, cane clicking along with the heels of Jayce’s sturdy boots.

The two locked up, and headed home in the wee hours when most everyone else was already fast asleep.

[anncanta]

The imagery of BBC ‘Dracula’: mythology, alchemy, literature

The more I watch the BBC and Netflix Dracula, the more interesting details and nuances I notice. And now they have formed a new picture, which I would like to share with you.

For the convenience of consideration and analysis, I propose to divide the images and symbols used in Dracula into several large groups.

The first group is mythological images and symbols. This is the most archaic metaphor, and for this story, it has enormous significance. On it, as on a foundation, the entire basic narrative of the film is built.

The second group is alchemical images. They represent the plot, semantic level at which events unfold. It is here the very ‘metaphysical detective story’ arises and develops, which some viewers and critics talk about, reflecting on the genre nature of the film.

And finally, the third – the group of the ‘youngest’ – images of literature. It is a kind of crystal lattice, a narrative framework that holds the whole structure. Without a mythological level, the story will not have a basic ‘leaven’, matter, in the original meaning ‘mother’, ‘material’, in the sense of ‘body’, ‘flesh’, ‘reality’. Without the alchemical one, it would lack the drama, in the meaning of the unfolding process – from the appearance of this very matter in the crucible to the creation of the philosopher's stone. And the level of literature allows you to reflect on this process and make it conscious, appropriating it as a part of psychological reality.

Let's consider each of these levels sequentially and try to see how they relate to each other and what context they all create together.

Mythology

We start with mythology, not only because it is a basic level, but also because the very structure of Dracula inclines to it. The story, which began in a Transylvanian castle, grows from a completely mythological, archaic root, develops as a half-tale detective drama, and ends in the genre of a modern psychological novel. Yes, with elements of a fairy tale and mysticism, but it is based (in the third episode) on a modern novelistic narrative.

In the first episode, we have a gothic tale based on myth and legends so old that, probably, no one can reliably determine their age. And just as old are the images that this myth uses.

We will not consider every single one of them – this would take much more time and space than this article suggests – we will focus only on the main ones.

There are several of them. Forest, castle, mirror, needle, sun.

Forest

A forest as an image and symbol in mythology means a place that belongs to another world. In contrast to the rational and ordered world of everyday reality known to us, it represents the mysterious, incomprehensible, enigmatic, strange, confusing, irrational.

Even before we meet with Dracula, before the very beginning of the story arises, together with Jonathan Harker we find ourselves in the forest – being left there. This is very important, since it draws a line between the everyday world from which Jonathan comes and the magical world, immediately involving the viewer and the character in the initiation situation. Let us recall the fairy tales describing pictures of the same series: a stepdaughter sent by her stepmother into the forest for snowdrops in the middle of winter, children whom their parents took to the forest and thrown there, a hero forced to travel through the forest in order to achieve the desired goal.

It is worth noting here that Jonathan, as a normal child of the rational nineteenth century, at first does not perceive what is happening to him like something out of the ordinary. The forest does not seem scary to him, he sees no problem in getting out of the carriage, knee-deep in the snow among the trees, waiting for the Count's driver. It seems uncomfortable to him, that's all. And only the persistence of the girl convincing Jonathan to take the crucifix causes something like a vague alarm.

This behavior of Jonathan is both a tribute to the literary basis – B. Stoker's novel, written in an era when rationality and the power of reason were valued higher than magic and miracles (pushed aside by the collective psyche into the field of ‘peasant tales’ and superstitions), and typical for such story is the position of a hero who is not aware of the seriousness of the situation in which he found himself.

But back to the forest.

The space of the forest in fairy tales and myths can appear as a transitional one – a gateway to another world, a path to an antagonist (an evil sorcerer, an ancient scary creature, a dark king), or as an endpoint, where transformation takes place.

In our case, the forest is a path, a kind of bridge connecting Jonathan's past with his future.

Like most heroes, Harker took this path, not of his own free will (the owner of the company sent him to make a deal with Dracula in Transylvania), and in order to pass through it and at least get to the castle, Jonathan needs someone else – someone to guide and push him.

At this point, along with the Count's charioteer, one of the most famous devices in British literature appears in the text – a literalized metaphor. ‘Driver’ not only means a chauffeur. It is also an engine that makes something or someone work, move forward.

A roll call with this scene and repeated mentions in the first episode of the word ‘driver’ a dialogue between Dracula and Zoe in the third one sounds: ‘You`re fast, you`re clever. Driven. But driven by what?’. ‘Driven’ here means ‘motivated’, ‘carried away’, ‘captured’.

Unlike Zoe, Jonathan is not captured by anything. He simply travels by the direction of his employer to Transylvania to do his duty. By the way, pay attention, the driver delivers Jonathan to the castle but refuses to help him further. The driver`s function is now exhausted.

At the same time, already by the movement of Jonathan through the forest, one can understand that not just an adventure awaits the character, but an adventure in a fairy-tale sense.

Remember how he rides in the carriage, reading the letter of his beloved, and how her image appears with a golden reflection above the trees, reviving and warming Johnny's soul and the winter forest frozen under the snow. In the letter, Mina lists all their friends and acquaintances, assures Jonathan of her love, and expresses the hope that her feelings are mutual. Thus, we see a person who enters the space of initiation, accompanied by the feminine side of his soul, and, stopping at the threshold, internally goes over his thoughts and feelings, considering his past life. That is why he needs a path through the forest. For this, he was left in the glade and made to wait for the charioteer. This is where the place of altered consciousness begins. And here completely different rules apply, not those that work in the ordinary world.

Castle

Unlike the forest, which represents the space of a natural, uncontrollable, and absolutely irrational element, the castle is the creation of a human. Moreover, as we know from the words of Dracula, in this case, it is the creation of a brilliant artist, and it has two very specific meanings, directly stated in the text: a monument to lost love and prison without locks.

Specified at the very beginning, these two values ​​immediately set the coordinate system in which the story of Dracula and Jonathan will unfold.

That's right – the story of Dracula and Jonathan, I did not make a reservation. Those who see a romantic line in their interaction are right. Another thing is that this romantic line, like everything in this film, differs from the love stories we are used to and sets completely different goals and objectives for the characters.

Look, what we have here? An ancient castle in which a mysterious Count lives, who looks like a barely breathing old man, and in which some strange creatures also live, seemingly in need of help. I have already spoken about the meaning of these images in the article ‘Dracula BBC as an alchemical novel’, and those who wish can refer to it for details. For this one, something else is important.

Why didn't Jonathan leave? Clearly, he got lost in the castle, the castle is arranged like a labyrinth, moreover, the night creatures wandering along the corridors were clearly teasing and confusing Harker, forcing him to plunge deeper and deeper into the bowels of the ancient structure and his own altered consciousness.

And this is the most important thing. When Agatha tells Jonathan that he is an extremely brave man, it is not only about the fact that he remained in a castle full of dangers, because he knew that there was someone who was begging him for help, but also that Jonathan had the courage to remain in the sealed reality of the castle, alone with his fears.

It is what allows him to stay alive for so long, what does not allow him to surrender, what arouses Dracula's interest and creates this strange tension between them, poorly understanding one another, but intuitively reaching out to each other.

This is not about romantic love, not about desire as such – Jonathan loves Mina, and no one is able to take her place in his heart – and Dracula still does not understand at all what it means to love. This is different. In a certain, almost inconceivable way, the deeper Jonathan goes into the castle, the lower he descends and the less physical strength he has, the more stubborn and bright his spirit becomes. At the level of the image, this at some point is shown literally, almost head-on – remember the scene after the attack of the vampire girl in the basement, when Jonathan wakes up. His face and figure, his entire appearance almost literally reproduce the image from the painting The body of the dead Christ in the tomb

by Hans Holbein the Younger (according to legend, by the way, the model for body of Jesus, painted on it, was the body of a drowned man found in the Rhine). In this episode, the story openly shows us what Johnny is for – given everything we've seen so far and the structure of the text. Jonathan went downstairs to the hell arranged by Dracula in his basement (inside the Count himself), faced a lost soul there, died, and returned to life.

It was not in vain that Dracula begged Jonathan to stay. Johnny is his guide, his key to life, to real life, and not to the one that the Count lived all this time, hiding in a castle and feeding on scraps of other people's stories. Inside this dark reality, Jonathan is a light that dies and is born to give new life. This is the mythological side of his role in the life of Dracula, and such is it when viewed from the side of the Count.

And this is where some completely incredible thing begins. A vampire who lives in darkness and must love darkness, who almost killed Jonathan and, according to Harker himself, took everything from him, takes him in his arms, and carries him upstairs.

They had just been in hell, at the lowest point, in death itself, or, rather, in a nightmare about it shared by two – do you think that Dracula is the only one here who is afraid of death? They fought and tortured each other, and reached the limit. And from there, below, there was only one way.

I don't think Dracula knows what he is doing when he carries Johnny to the roof. But the fact remains – they end up there, and the Count practically asks Jonathan to be his eyes and tell him what the sun looks like. This scene, both dramatic and ironic, plays with all shades of thoughts and feelings, and in it the emphasis shifts again, and Jonathan becomes the leader.

In this episode, the visual component is extremely important. Downstairs in the basement, Jonathan was in the form of the dead Christ, the sacrifice made, tortured and betrayed, forsaken and trampled. On the roof of the castle, at its highest point, rising and refusing to serve Dracula, refusing to be his puppet, standing on the parapet facing him, ready to jump, in the rays of the sun, he looks like an image (literally – an icon) of a savior in the light of glory.

The gold mark from the cross reflecting the sun is not a striking mark, but a hand placed on the forehead. Only Dracula doesn't know it yet.

But they have already passed this part of the way.

Part 2.

[wordsandsound14]

Switchfoot albums ranked (not including interrobang)

I've been thinking about this a lot too recently. Ik I'm late to the party on this one but I don't get on reddit often. Only got on since the band did the ama. I won't include interrobang since it's so new and ranking it seems difficult. (worst to best)

11. Learning to Breathe - While this record has some of the best written songs (Learning to Breathe, The Loser, Love is the Movement), it also has some of my least favorites (Poparazzi, Innocence Again, Living is Simple). I often just find myself bored with this album and disappointed. There are plenty of dipping of toes in ideas and then abandoning them. For instance, the beginning of Erosion is such a cool unique sound and then it's abandoned for the rest of the song. The themes of this album are also really boring to me, even when I was a christian. I just found it wasn't taking a unique perspective or doing anything different with its themes when they have done so before.

10. Where the Light Shines Through - I feel this was the band when they were the most uninspired. It feels like it was trying to sell itself to the CCM crowd and make some waves there since it's been the most consistent place of making waves and it still didn't do that. Don't get me wrong, there are great songs here (If the House Burns Down Tonight, Float, Holy Water). The first half of this album is super good. It's that back half that feels like an axe to the first half. Every song on the back half has something that disappoints me. And I'm fine with christian themes and all but it felt like this album had more just praise songs vs the questioning of faith. Would've been a great EP and it kinda made sense that they went into hiatus after this album. I also feel that the themes of the album didn't really make it to it. Jon talked about how he was in a some struggle and storm before the album and then by the time they got recording it more so became an album after the storm. And I just wonder what was going on. Cause there's only small hints. I can only feel that an album that actually talked about that or coming out of the storm would've worked but we got way after the storm and leaving a lot of good inspiration behind in a ball of mystery that we still don't know about. I don't need to know every information that he went through but the songs got effected by it.

9. New Way to be Human - I think what holds this album down the most is it's lack of direction. I can feel them trying to tackle all of their ideas from folk to pop to indie while maintaining their identity. I just don't feel these ideas get fully fleshed out. But these songs are really well written and the philosophy bleeding into these tracks and ending up being a basis of many future songs can all be tracked back to this album. This album is just a very specific listen so I don't often turn to this album. I do think Something More is the most overlooked song, with Amy's song being a close second. I also think Incomplete is a just a better version of I Turn Everything Over so it feels like a repeat track. But I really appreciate what this record represents in their career and see it as a stepping stone of sorts. (Company Car is one of their best earlier works)

8. Native Tongue - Seems a lot of people have very different feelings about this work. I think the biggest thing that makes Native Tongue feel distinct is that it feels like a Jon Foreman project with Switchfoot. Like Jon was the only one who couldn't stay away from the studio and was calling the other members. They came and were happy to but it was Jon with the initiative. At least, it's how it sounds to me. A lot of these ideas are incomplete. But when they aren't, they hit really well (Native Tongue, Dig New Streams, Oxygen). And the amount of trying different things! Granted a lot of ideas of modern production ideas but I'm glad they happened. But some I'm not too fond of (Joy Invisible, Wonderful Feeling, The Strength To Let Go). I feel this album also really fell short without a good producer. It's not the production value that doesn't work but Switchfoot works best when there is a producer there that works with them and pushes them. I fell they could have been better but it also has some solid songs in here.

7. Legend of Chin - This is one of the most fun Switchfoot records but has such a distinct sound and charm to it. I understand that a lot of songs are about girls that Jon doesn't even know any more but there isn't a bad song on here. It's all just fun from 3 guys jamming in a room. I used to not like the closing track but it's grown on me and I crave that sound more and more. Some standout tracks are Home, Chem 6A, You. With Underwater being a super creative song. I don't have a ton to say other than this is root Switchfoot and their cores are on display here.

6. Fading West - I feel this is their most misunderstood record. The struggle this album went through is tremendous. Take the two best things Switchfoot is known for and strip them away and they still make a record worth listening too imo. It's not their best but it's really ambitious, even if accidental. Originally, they were going to only strip the guitars away but when you listen to the story of Fading West, going on a journey to feel inspired. There are plenty of lines hinting that Jon was having writer's block (blood clot pen). It does mean the lyrics suffered some here but I don't think they suffered a ton. They achieved the california surf music. However, I do think they missed a huge part that I feel the fans were wanting. It's the sound that's on the ep. It's the one we were advertised and didn't receive on the album. I would loved if the album had the sound of Edge of the Earth (the song). But I really appreciate the risk cause it's a huge one. (stand out tracks: Love Alone Is Worth the Fight, BA55, Slipping Away).

5. Vice Verses - This was the best they have ever been as musicians (you could argue this for Oh Gravity too tho). But the amount of pushing their musical talent is very apparent on this album. The bass lines and drum rhythms are amazing. The only songs I'm kinda eh about are Rise Above It (still has great production and energy) and The Original (still has amazing bass and guitar parts). This album does have a weird issue with the lyrics either hitting really deep parts of your heart or being a very vague or simple line. The production is also the best imo and everything is layered super well. The only production that I disagree on is on Where I Belong (the digital claps for why and some parts sounding a little inconsistent with the rest of the album). But the choices in the sounds of the guitars and genre jumps and the grunge. Still lacking in some areas but still a solid record. (Holds my favorite Switchfoot song Thrive)

4. Oh! Gravity. - Oh yes, the golden era as I call it. I pin this album as the core Switchfoot sound. If you want to hear what Switchfoot sounds like, this album nails it. Guitars, fun, great lyrics, and musical variety. I don't have much words like I did for Chin. It's a pretty simple album to digest and it's the quickest made one (from what i'm aware of) and it shows but in the best way possible. It's also only made better by the podcast series they made. The only things that hold this album down a bit is American Dream and Burn Out Bright being repeat tracks of another (American Dream being the better one) and the double edged sword of it being simple when surrounded by high effort long works that are beyond exceptional.

3. The Beautiful Letdown - The Classic Foot album that defined their careers. It's not a joke tho that everything went up a whole level with this album. Something clicked in Jon's head that turned out some of his best lyrics and the song formats and sound just grew a ton. Jerome being an essential new member. And only one song that's a little meh (Redemption) and even the meh song is still catchy. Overexposure might be why it's not higher but I feel I have more reasons being that it does sound dated. Most of the time for better but a little for worse. I also feel that if Drew was a part of this album, it would be up a another level also. There's just a slight amount of incompleteness to this record. Not sure exactly but regardless the songwriting on this album is amazing and the questions and the way they are asked remain timeless.

2. Nothing is Sound - Grunge at its best here. I'm still not certain what Jon was going through here other than what the lyrics mention but whatever he was feeling hits hard. It resonates so much. To this day, these songs hold my throat. Not a bad song on here. It's a really good album that only gets beat by it's production value. Some songs could've been produced better (ironically Jon mentioned that recently too lol). Golden, The Setting Sun, and We Are Young Tonight are the forefront of those. And it's not like they are terribly produced but they are missing a little from what they could be. But literally it. Front to back, this record just rocks while wallowing in despair from the fallen world and the loneliness and helplessness it brings. It also represents a huge decision on what to do after a breakout record and is one of the best records after a band reached public success.

1. Hello Hurricane - The whole sound of this record is the most complete the band has ever sounded to me. The writing on this album is so great. Not one song is a waste and process this album went through is amazing. I get that they can't (prob shouldn't) do this process but damn was it worth it. This project sounds so complete and so organically made, even with two songs that I feel could have been switched out. (Always isn't my favorite but I may having it be a song for a past relationship. But it also does still have a lot of raw emotion in it that I appreciate and can get past my own perceptions. It's the lesser of the offense. Free is the other one only cause it kinda is booty in studio. It's live version makes ya wish it was that way on the record). But i adore these lyrics and I love the sounds they used without washing it up with production but still using production (Sing it Out) as a tool. It's so good and I love this album so much

quick review of interrobang is that it’s a very solid record and I love the sound of it so far. It doesn’t take my top record but it’s an insanely catchy album with a lot of listens in the future. I’d probably rank it as 2 or 3. Not sure if it’s above or below nothing is sound. but really give it a listen. It’s exactly what i’ve been wanting from the band for so long