#my favourite thing in your art is the storytelling. there's just so much happening between the purely visual quality of it / the layers of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sneezemonster15 · 4 years ago

Text

Calling bullshit on the opinion that Kishimoto doesn't know how to write romance.

The reason why this entire shipping business on Naruto has been going on for over a decade and still going strong, making fans go absolutely mindless, about a story which is not even about romance, about things that are so effective and impactful that the fans feel completely consumed with it, to the extent where they have almost completely defined their life and philosophies on its basis, is because Kishimoto can write a good fucking romance. And that's what he did. That's the reason why ships are fighting with each other, because it's not just about Naruto the manga or Naruto the series, it's about how they imagine their own romance, it's a deep, profound feeling. That's why they have strong motivations and convictions that drive their insight into the story. That's why there is so much polarity in Naruto fandom. They are ready to jump to protect their ship at a moment's notice because that's how much it means to them.

Are you telling me that it just happened on its own? Just happy coincidences and random factors?

No.

A lot, a lot of thought goes behind closed doors of the studios. I know this because I work in the business. The reason why I was so astounded with Naruto's story because it was actually a brave story. A brave concept. In a shonen. Because I am ready to bet a million dollars I don't have on the fact that Kishimoto knew what he was doing. Anyone who enjoys poetry, or literature, or drama can, if not approve, appreciate Naruto and Sasuke's story. Because it's that deep. Because it's that impactful. Because it's that dark. Because it's that tragic. Because it's that tender. Because it's that painful.

Because it's so...

(Applause.)

Romantic.

These are all the ingredients of a well written romance. This is the reason why I don't care about other ships because I know that SNS is not random or a projection. It's mindfully and carefully and even tenderly written and developed.

Kishimoto's projection? Oh sure. It stands to reason that someone from his real life affected and inspired his favourite character through and through. He did say that he based some characters on certain people from his own life. And he did base Naruto on his own self, if partly. And the reason why I am able to surmise that he could have had a real crush on someone like Sasuke in real life, is because how clearly and insightfully written and contrasted the two characters are. So nuanced. They are like poetry, that's why I am so dazzled with them. Their story is so beautifully shaped by their characters and growth that it creates a clear impression of who they really are in the story. Soulmates. That's the whole crux of the story. They are written out to be this literally 'once in several lifetimes' pairing that finally broke the bonds of hate with bonds of love and changed the entire world and as a result, grew themselves. This is reflected in themselves what with Sasuke being propelled with hate and Naruto with love and coming together finally in a world that they made happen, for each other. And all of their parts and counterparts with which they think and move and function are so well in sync with each other that they lock together perfectly, like two pieces in a two piece puzzle box.

To say that this intricately and intelligently and tenderly written story is just like, an accident, my lord no!

No. The content that is finally syndicated on screens all over the world, especially with the type of response Naruto has enjoyed, and believe me when I say this, everything goes through many levels of scrutiny during production; to the extent of why would this camera angle work better than all the other angles, here's a flowchart and analysis of all of them and let's spend three days on deciding it while the producers are going crazy frustrated with fanatic creatives. This is a very common thing to happen in most serious studios.

Naruto stood out at the time it came out and reached a much larger audience for several reasons. But one of them was that it got the right exposure and was shown to critics outside of Japan, who could appreciate and admire it's cinematic beauty and this reached a different subset of audience. This extra effort is not consistent but it shines at so many places, because it's just good storytelling technically and aesthetically. And the reason why Naruto and Sasuke stand smack dab in the middle of that storytelling, is because Kishimoto told their story with so much feeling, it literally shows. The nuance is just crazy. Note that I am saying nuance and not subtext, even though it's there in heaps. But I want to make a distinction clearly. Like I can write pages and pages over it. Anyway, their story stands out because the nuances are so well defined and mindfully drawn by Kishi, that one can't help but wonder if Kishi actually experienced them. And they are just small things but still get a lot of exposure in the manga and anime. And because they are so small but clearly noticeable, it makes us stop in our tracks and think. And the thing is Kishimoto could have easily done without them and it would have made everything still seem undisturbed but he chose Not to. That kind of decision is a direct result of deep understanding, feeling and thinking in terms of forming a certain visual approach and meaning. The visual language Kishi has used to show their chemistry, their bond, their need for each other, is so tangible, like you could cut it with a knife, that it makes one feel something is right below the surface, simmering and about to explode, but you can't put your finger on what it exactly is. Until you start to think. And it takes some time.

You think that kind of writing is random? Are you out of your mind?

No, Kishi is a maniac. He pulled something that was not easy at all. He is a genius. He is also sadistic because he knows he didn't give us a resolution. Resolution is cathartic to viewers and the reason that nobody got any with Naruto and still not getting any from Boruto is making everyone go crazy. Fifteen years is a long time man. And I can bet my other non existent one million dollars on it. He owns a lot of rights over Naruto franchise, I don't think he can be cowed down to such an extent even by the studio. Kishi fought studios for a few significant scenes of Naruto and Sasuke, he is not unfeeling about them.

Maybe I am being a mere deductionist but more often than not, deduction is right. It's a valid form of acquiring knowledge. Sherlock is right more times than he is not.

Anyway, my point is, Kishi can write romance. Kishi can write very good romance. He could have chosen to remove some tropes and make Naruto and Sasuke either just brotherly or friendly. But he chose not to. A lot of people think that they are platonic. And I think I know why. But I don't. They are not platonic. They seem like they feel physically aware of each other, acutely so. they just don't know what it is. Maybe Sasuke does, Naruto doesn't. Kishi used also such common tropes to show this element, but just because it is in shonen and between two boys, y'all won't believe it. Don't you feel that palpable feeling, the simmering tension and emotion when they fight at the valley of the end both times? And it makes you think maybe it's just you, and what you are thinking can't be true because this is shonen and it would mean they are gay, let me tell you, no it's not you. It is Kishi. And it takes skill to write. Something like this is almost always used as a trope of unaddressed sexual tension in media. Pick any romantic drama of this genre, where 'hate turned to love' or 'two unlikely people who fall in love' and you would find it in almost every single one of them.

Why do you think Kishi designed it that way? You think with all the detail (action moves are literally inspired by real life martial arts, lighting, sound, editing, dialogues that sound like out of a Bronte novel), that was him just playing innocent?

No. No. No. And No!

He wrote SNS throughout Naruto and Shippuden and is still doing something of an extension of it that has made Boruto a weird and uncomfortable to watch family drama.

#sns #sns in boruto #sasunarusasu #sasunaru #sasuke #naruto uzumaki #narusasu #naruto analysis #kishimoto why

112 notes · View notes

yegarts · 3 years ago

Text

“I Am YEG Arts” Series: Darrin Hagen

Speak less and listen more. It’s one heck of a resolution, and one Darrin Hagen made decades ago. His reason? You don’t learn much while you’re talking, and Hagen wants to learn. Consequentially, as pandemic fate would have it, he’s had more time than ever to work on that. While some of us were perfecting our sourdough, Hagen spent his hiatus taking comfort in his first love: music. He’s been writing about it, composing it, producing videos, and learning how to share it all digitally with the world. If that isn’t exciting enough, you can also look forward to the two plays he’s bringing to this years’ long-awaited Fringe Festival. Writer, performer, composer, and listener—this week’s “I Am YEG Arts” story belongs to Darrin Hagen.

What keeps you choosing Edmonton as your place to live and work?

I arrived in Edmonton four decades ago and never intended to stay, but good things keep happening to me here. Edmonton has always opened doors to experiences I never could have had anywhere else. It’s also a big anniversary year for me: 40 years living in Edmonton, 35 years since Guys In Disguise made its debut at the Fringe Festival, and 25 years since the publication of The Edmonton Queen.

Tell us about your journey as a storyteller of queer history and where you hope it takes you next.

I never try to predict or anticipate what’s next—and I think that’s the secret to moving forward. I didn’t write The Edmonton Queen 25 years ago to be political or to fulfill an agenda. I just wrote what I had experienced and what I was feeling. We are all the authorities in our own lived experience, and for whatever reason, I’ve lived through some pretty unique circumstances, and that’s given me a distinct outlook on the world around me.

I’m a history nerd and love research, so I’ll just keep digging and expanding my knowledge of what the Queer population of this province has endured. It’s important for the young Queers to understand the struggles of prior generations in order to fully appreciate and protect the privileges we now enjoy. And it’s important for the elder Queers to know that their pain and their efforts were not in vain.

I recently did a Zoom call with the gay seniors group and told stories of the many moments where I was in drag, dealing with the media that not only didn’t understand my gender fluidity, but didn’t even possess the vocabulary to describe it. The session was a blast and made me realize that I have many more stories to tell. I do feel a shift toward creating documentaries, though. Again—that’s not something I ever could have predicted—but it began to happen, and I am very open to it!

What’s your favourite part of the creative process?

I love that moment when you stop trying and just allow the art to happen—the moment where effort becomes effortless. It doesn’t always happen, but it’s so good when it does. After I’ve composed some music, my favourite part of that process is spending a few hours just listening. I also love that moment on stage when you’re in the last seconds of a play, and you can feel that it worked.

What does community mean to you, and where do you find it?

My answer to this has changed many, many times over the years. For a long time, it was in the club scene—the world of Flashback both saved and inspired me. Then it was the world of activism that was my foundation. Then for years it was the theatre scene. But I think through all of that, the people who enjoy my work and honour it by spending time with it are the community that means the most to me. My creative output is a conversation between them and I, and some have been on this journey with me since the days I was spewing Life cereal all over the Flashback stage in the early 80s. They’ve allowed me to grow, and struggle, and sometimes triumph.

The pandemic years have also shown me that my world has gotten very insular as I devote my time to solo creation. I think that’s a natural progression, as I morph into an artist that’s newly intrigued by digital dissemination.

What has surprised you most over the course of your writing career?

I don’t think I was ever really meant to be a writer, so everything I write is still a surprise. I’m surprised by some of the advances around Queer equality—most of the activists I knew couldn’t have predicted how quickly things could progress. I’m also surprised at how quickly language has changed in my lifetime. That kind of change used to take centuries, didn’t it?

It is said that to be an activist is to speak, and to be an advocate is to listen. You’re known for both. How is each reflected in your current work?

I made a New Year’s resolution decades ago to speak less and listen more. Anyone who knows me can tell you what a struggle that can be for someone as verbose as I. But I say it to myself every December 31: One doesn’t learn much while one is talking. I want to learn.

I have also spent decades interviewing people—first for Outlooks Magazine, then for HelpTV, then many, many interviews with Queer elders for the many Queer history projects I have been working on. It’s important to leave room for people to speak. As I get older, I get less and less interested in being the one speaking. When I do, I want it to be measured and thoughtful. That’s why I hate social media.

Metronome at Workshop West, directed by Heather Inglis.

What excites you most about the YEG arts scene right now?

I’m intrigued to see what new art and which new voices will emerge from the darkness of the pandemic. I had a very productive time composing music and learning how to edit video, and am about to start releasing music I made during the hiatus. I’ve already seen and heard some brilliant things. Society experienced something huge. The ripples will never stop.

Tell us about the importance of mentorship throughout your career and what it’s taught you.

Working with other writers makes me a better writer. I had some inspiring and generous minds that gave me early encouragement/advice. I feel a duty to pay that generosity forward.

The Queer community is in a situation now where a lack of mentors has created an impasse, or a gap, between generations. This has resulted in a population unaware of the struggles that came before. We should be building bridges between the present and the past. The more Queer history work I do, the more important that seems.

Describe your perfect day in Edmonton. How do you spend it?

A perfect Edmonton day is spent in my garden with a friend or two.

You visit Edmonton 20 years from now. What do you hope has changed? What do you hope has stayed the same?

In 20 years I will be 78. What I hope to see is a provincial government that has finally stopped fighting Queer equality. I also hope I see seniors’ homes for the Queer elders who changed the world for the rest of us. I hope the river valley is still natural and unspoiled. I hope the Edmonton Arts Council is still helping Edmonton artists contribute to the vibrancy of our city.

Want more YEG Arts Stories? We’ll be sharing them here all year and on social media using the hashtag #IamYegArts. Follow along!

Visit Darrin Hagen’s Vimeo to discover his digital catalogue of new music and art, and be sure to catch his upcoming Fringe 2022 plays: Crack In the Mirror (Varscona Theatre) and Pansy Cabaret (the Roxy).

About Darrin Hagen

Darrin Hagen is an award-winning playwright, author, composer, and Queer historian whose plays have been produced across Canada, in the US, and Europe. Since The Edmonton Queen (published by Brindle & Glass), he has created art that is a unique window into gender and history. During the pandemic, he turned his attention to creating video art and has done a deep dive into Queer history research, including many hours working with MacEwan’s Edmonton Queer History Project.

He has been Artistic Director of Guys In Disguise since 1987, has received 7 Sterling Awards for his work in Edmonton Theatre, and an AMPIA for his broadcasting work. Other plays include, Tornado Magnet, BitchSlap!, Witch Hunt at the Strand, Buddy, The Empress & The Prime Minister, Metronome, and the upcoming Pansy Cabaret.

Together with his collaborator, Trevor Schmidt, he has created a decade’s worth of hit Fringe comedies, including Flora & Fawna’s Field Trip, Flora & Fawna Have Beaver Fever, Dragula, Psychobabble, Prepare for the Worst, Puck Bunnies, Don’t Frown at the Gown, Klondykes, and the upcoming Fringe hit, Crack In The Mirror.

Hagen has been named one of the 25 Most Influential Alberta Artists in the Past 25 Years, as well as one of 100 Edmontonians of the Century.

#yegarts #edmonton #IamYegArts #ArtistFeature #yegtheatre

2 notes · View notes

yurimother · 5 years ago

Text

Interview: Shilin Huang, Creator of Amongst Us and Carciphona

Shilin Huang ( @okolnir )is a Canadian freelance artist and comic creator, known for her long-running series Carciphona. She has a Bachelor of Music in Performance from the University of Western Ontario. Carciphona is a long-form fantasy story set in a world where demon-magic is forbidden. The series follows a young sorceress named Veloce, and the mythical assassin assigned to kill her, Blackbird.

Shilin’s newest book, Amongst Us, based on the webcomic of the same name, is an alternate universe comic that reimagines Veloce and Blackbird as musicians and girlfriends in the modern world. You can support the physical release for Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today.

The first book of Amongst Us is coming soon. How do you feel about the release?

Eager and relieved!! I had worked for so long to make the web format viable for print format, as well doing all the extra drawings that were necessary--like covers--that I had to keep under wraps, it felt great to know that that part is finally done and I can release my child into the wild. I was very worried too before the launch of the Kickstarter, because though I am the one who made this story, I am not quite a slice-of-life type of person myself, and it was hard for me to see value in this mundane, not-plot-driven kind of story as a printed book. But I was very lucky to have that worry dispelled!

What drew you towards creating comics and artwork? Was it a dream of yours?

I’ve been drawing since before elementary school because I enjoyed it, and somewhere along the way, I wanted to create my own characters, and then I wanted stories for them. It was always just me doing what I felt like doing, more so than something that I aspired towards achieving consciously. If I had to analyze the allure myself, maybe it was because people and the world are so interesting, I’ve always loved thinking about their nature and circumstances, and art/storytelling was the best way for me to explore and share those thoughts.

Could you briefly walk us through your creative process for making a page of Carciphona or an episode of Amongst Us?

Carciphona is a long, plot-driven story, and so the scale of preparation required before the page eclipses the actual drawing of the page itself. [A] small moment has some larger impact in the plot, character development, and accuracy of world-building. So I usually spend about half a year or more writing out an entire volume, read it over many times over the course of the years, before I do the same thing with sketching the entire volume on the computer, rearranging pages and panels and entire scenes for best delivery, before I finally commit to drawing out each page in detail on the computer.

Where Carciphona is like an elaborate set course where I chop up and measure ingredients and time their cooking with a careful game plan so everything can be served as they should, Amongst Us is more like an omelette that I’m making to taste. There is still planning and writing ahead of time, but each episode is much more self-contained, and I do more of the planning of the episode within the episode itself, adding and taking away details as I see fit before I feel like it reads naturally enough for me to fine line, colour, and paint.

You talk about being a self-taught artist, how did you learn to create artwork? What are some of your favorite educational resources?

While I did come across many tutorials, they were mostly short ones here and there made by my peers, so I don’t have any favourites in my mind that I can share ): . I learned by just looking at the art of my peers at the time and drawing a lot myself, thinking about what I could learn from each time I see something great, and what I could try next time to make the next drawing look better to me. When I had just started drawing digitally, the internet was quite new, drawing tablets expensive and uncommon, with no social media to share art or find resources. Over time, I did try to learn more properly by doing studies and seeking out professional tutorials, but I found that I hated it and decided that I’d rather learn and make mistakes at my own pace and be happy than to commit to effective and efficient learning and make myself dislike drawing.

Amongst Us is, of course, an Alternate Universe comic featuring characters from Carciphona. What inspired you to put your characters into a GL slice of life work?

Back in 2006, when I started drawing Carciphona, I had no plans of this frenemies dynamic for the two main characters, Blackbird and Veloce, and when the thought had occurred to me as I continue to tweak the story, canon GL relationships were still rare and rarely accepted. I was even told on many occasions by readers that they hope the two do not end up with some couples dynamic, or they will no longer be interested in the story. Ultimately, Carciphona was a fantasy story about an entire world, and I wasn’t going to risk the story’s reception over a small detail like whether or not Blackbird and Veloce sleep together, so I just played with the ideas of their relationship on the side, in paintings of many different AUs. Eventually, all that did was make me become so attached to the idea that I decided to say, screw it, I need someplace where they could be together, and I’m drawing an AU for real.

Where do you draw inspiration from for your work? Both Amongst Us and Carciphona.

I love a lot of things, feelings, aesthetics, and I eat up all of that and take it back out in the form of my stories. The inspiration is everywhere, from beautiful imagery I witness in pictures and in real life, to [the] lives of people that I hear about or experience firsthand, to the ethics and structures of professions from mechanics to medicine… In feelings, knowledge, and perspective, there’s an infinite amount of things that makes me think, and that thinking is what creates AU and Carciphona, whether or not that line of inspiration can be clearly drawn back to the root of the thought.

What are some of your biggest challenges or fears creating Amongst Us? Was there any realization or advice that helped you overcome those difficulties?

My biggest fear is always in relatability because it’s a difference between me and the reader that I do not and cannot have a solution for because it involves another person. In such a relatable genre as slice of life/comedy/romance, where the readers have more experience and therefore more varied but stronger expectations of a version of life that is relatable to them, I know that even if somehow I become a master writer, I still would not be able [to] say whether I could story that others would get or would be interested in, especially because I am aware I am an oddball when it comes to how I think, how I live, and what I value. What helped me the most was simply seeing that there were readers who did enjoy the stories for what it was, and reminding myself that I’m telling the stories to find those who might enjoy it, not to avoid those who might not. It’s a different perspective, rather than a solution, so the worry constantly resurfaces, but I hope it becomes easier over time as I am proven wrong more often!

Amongst Us readers have gotten to see Veloce and Blackbird as an established couple, and now we are witnessing flashbacks to how they first met. Where do you hope to take the series in the future?

I intend to tell both of these timelines concurrently, so as the couple timeline ended at episode 20, I intend to end the flashback at around episode 40, and then switch again at episode 60, and so on. While this kills the momentum for each arc, I made AU so that I can have the cake and eat it too--I want both their back story and a happy ending at the same time without having to wait 10-20 years for it, like I do with Carciphona’s plot haha!

What is one dream or aspiration you would like to accomplish? Even if it is unrealistic.

My only dream right now is just to finish both Carciphona and AU before my time’s up! Funny how unrealistic is specified, it made me realize that I rarely consider unrealistic dreams/aspirations as worth thinking about as they are unlikely to happen when there are so many other things I want to do that are actually possible. Most of my unrealistic dreams actually revolve around music, a profession I had left behind with an aching heart. I dream to play a concerto with an orchestra someday, or even learn to conduct, but for now, drawing my dreams out feels enjoyable and fulfilling enough a compromise!

What advice do you have for people wanting to create artwork and comics?

The true challenge these days I feel like is rarely in the work itself; there are so many readily available free resources that anyone who is capable of working hard and thinking critically will sooner or later be able to master skills they acquire to some degree. What is truly challenging is finding, and then accepting, what paths work for you. Someone might find great joy in working in a studio with a group on something big, while someone else might only enjoy drawing what they feel. Both, in this current climate, will be compelled to adhere to the standards of drawing what others want to see in order to gain recognition and financial stability, one will thrive, one will not.

I think the most important thing to keep in mind is understanding what you want out of drawing/creating, and why. Understanding yourself is often not as straight-forward as it may seem, everyone has different circumstances that subtly motivates them to sometimes misdirect energy and misinterpret what it is they truly want. Some people need to be understood, some people want an excuse to execute, and some people want fame, money, recognition, validation. Whatever it is, and all valid, understanding and accepting your own motivations to create can tremendously help you find the path forward that is suitable for you, not anyone else, even if it might mean following an impractical path that no one else recommends.

Finally, after the release of the first Amongst Us book, what is next for you? Anything special your fans can look forward to?

My game plan through the decades has always been to just keep going. I did choose long-form projects such as the comics that I draw, and the best thing I can do is to just keep it up and reach those exciting points of the story that I’ve always worked towards, no matter how uneventful that may make my work routine sound. However, I do have a little side thing with a(nother) recurring theme that I’ve been doing here and there for fun whenever I had time, people who keep up with my social media art posts may have noticed. If I ever accumulate enough material, maybe there will be some bonus snacks for my readers on the horizon!

Read Carciphona and Amongst Us online now and be sure to support the physical release on Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today. Also, be sure to follow Shilin on Twitter @Okolnir.

#yuri #news #essay #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #shilin #girls love #gl #wlw #essays #interview #art #artist #comics #indie #carciphona #amongst us

1K notes · View notes

aotopmha · 4 years ago

Text

The extra pages for chapter 139 seem to be pretty much finally out!

And they're a bunch panels relying on visual storytelling which need to be put in context by the reader/you need to maybe think about it for 10 seconds instead of 2, something I've learned the internet does not like in storytelling. (Or in general, considering how much misinformation is out there.)

I think Kunihiko Ikuhara's works were my first exposure to this element of the internet in full force; they're some of the lowest-rated stories in some of the typical websites where anime is discussed and they're all mostly very reliant on metaphor and visual storytelling.

I've seen 12 episodes of Revolutionary Girl Utena and a little bit of Yurikuma Arashi and I think you really need to completely engage with those stories to get what is going on. Almost all of the dialog in those stories seems to matter and to need as much of the context as possible to understand.

And to me a story which asks you to engage and put things together for yourself is what I look for in art and I think is art.

The reason why I have yet to go back to those stories is because they are so very dense and you really just need to be in a certain mindset to watch them.

AoT Chapter 122 and now these new pages are 100% visual storytelling.

AoT Chapter 122 in particular is still one of my favourite manga chapters ever because of how it portrayed a character's perspective with very limited dialog.

The thing with AoT is that I think these moments of visual storytelling are like a less dense and complex version of Ikuhara's storytelling, but they have the same elements.

A lot of context-dependent information in relatively few panels is in 122 and 139, that's why I think people get the sense the story is excusing Eren, for example.

Most of those complaints I've felt are very bad faith, but if I believe in the good and intelligence of humanity for once, maybe it really is that awkward prose that confuses and offends people, not the desire to be morally superior over a comic.

In that sense I think people read the words "thank you" Armin says to Eren and nothing else around it or just find the phrasing to be strange.

They don't go to reread the previous chapter or arc just in case they might've missed something.

Months/years-long breaks between material also assist in not really considering anything else but that one chapter in that one month.

And it just so happens art is also a very individual emotional experience, so "monkey brain" just fully kicks in, too.

To me if you think about it, what the story is saying is pretty obvious the moment Eren became the antagonist. This shift happened in Marley, 40 chapters or so ago.

But this is just what *my* mind leads me to and makes connections with based on the information I have absorbed from the story.

And it's not just that, too. I make connections to what the story was trying to do with Reiner, Kenny, Bert, Erwin or Annie because they were also serial killers/murderers the story took effort in humanising.

The importance of individual perspective and what these characters individually think and how they view themselves seems to be one of the most important aspects of the story.

Because ultimately one of the most important thematic threads of the story seems to be understanding different perspectives.

So why is Eren any different than all of the other mass murderers in the cast?

Because all of the big murderers in the cast get empathy and moments where characters try to understand them, no?

To actually address the pages, here's the general points and my thoughts:

-The whole deal with Mikasa and OG Ymir is that I think Mikasa tries to again, find the good in OG Ymir's suffering.

Her having her children lead to the lives of many people, including hers to be born and Mikasa thanks her for that.

This is a parallel to Eren, whose actions at least gave his friends their lives back. This also ties into Armin's point in chapter 137 about living life for those good moments and Mikasa's promise in chapter 138 to remember Eren for all of the good he did for her.

-Mikasa having a family with probably Jean (which is probably implied with the small scene on the boat) is such a minor thing that I just find hard to care about it at all. The focus on Mikasa really wasn't with it the point to emphasize how she now has kids.

And Mikasa and Historia are still the only characters we see get kids. There really actually isn't anything with anyone else (the spoiler about Armin and Annie doesn't seem to be real at all).

-People visiting the tree is a much more limited panel than the initial leaked images lead on. It's not a tourist attraction, it's something I think the families of Eren's friends ended up visiting. So this also gives it a much more "selfish" vibe.

-Armin's talk with Eren and the scene on the boat with Pieck now gets some pretty nice additional context (makes sense considering Isayama considered it one of the bits to be clumsy himself) because of the panels of Paradis at war in the future.

Those panels don't necessarily say Paradis was completely destroyed by war (we see the black-haired kid), but the alternatives also make the same point: Eren's methods didn't really bring peace.

It sort of gives the promise Armin made to Eren and his words on the boat a more sadder tinge.

Armin tried so hard to make something good out of the mess Eren left everyone. He tried hard for diplomacy to triumph, but war still happened because that's how humanity works.

There's also the layer of violence begetting violence and extremism also hurting your own people. The Jaegerist movement Eren ended up creating probably caused this war on Paradis. I think that's the implied thing with Historia's speech.

The final layer to Eren's actions is the giant Titan tree that literally grew out of his grave: what he did just lead to more cycles and the whole mess might just start again.

But we don't really actually see that happen. It's only a possibility.

Will the kid go in there to get the power and save his people from misery or will he consider the past?

We don't know. It all depends on what he knows of the past and this tree, how his parents presented the past to him, how the world shaped his perspective and yes, also his nature, too.

But the point is, Eren's actions had some good, but mostly bad consequences.

Puts Annie's and Pieck's comments in a stronger perspective, too.

I still maintain this ending is good. Not my favourite material from AoT, but good.

And I'll repeat what I said before that repeating the story's point in more concrete ways gives satisfaction in its own right.

#Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin #AoT 139 #SnK 139 #AoT #SnK #Eren #Eren Jaeger #Eren Yeager #Mikasa #Mikasa Ackermann

31 notes · View notes

blissfulsun · 4 years ago

Text

3rd installation of the lessons in love series, written for and with my angel Nics in mind because it’s my best frenssss bday!!! I love you so much💖@vlobsessed

word count: 2,311

A masterpiece in the making // Jeff Wittek

‘You’ve been quiet...’

It’s a simple observation made by Jeff, his fingers intertwined in your own as he leads the way and you follow.

The fact you look so much like a couple right now is not lost on you, hands clasped tightly together and his jacket adorning your frame.

An older lady even smiles as she walks past you two, it’s the fondness in his eyes that’s corresponding your own which makes her compliment how lovely of a couple you make.

He’s right, you’ve been quiet since then, far too focused on the hammering in your chest and whether Jeff can hear it.

If not that, then he can definitely feel just how clammy your palm has become.

‘Angel?’ there’s humour in his tone, underlying concern that dances in his eye when you finally look up at him just as he pulls your clasped hand up and lays a feather light kiss to the rings adorning each finger.

‘Sorry, ‘m just hungry’ it’s half a lie, since your stomach does grumble following the confession.

Jeff knows there’s more to it, but he also knows how you operate, will tell him what’s on your mind when you’re ready.

Besides, his primary concern right now is to feed you before you get grumpy, a look consisting of a permanent pout and furrowed brows that he secretly loves.

‘What my girl wants she gets’ You soften, staring up at him with uncontrollable wonder but Jeff just misses it, already looking around the street for a place you might like.

You end up in a quiet coffee shop, quaint and homely despite it’s location in the city, yourself taking a seat after Jeff has promised he already knows what you want as he goes to order.

He sits close in the corner booth, your thighs touching and one of his arms around your shoulders while the other pushes another dose of caffeine your way.

‘Is it-’ You begin to ask. ‘oat milk? Course, told you I know exactly what you like baby.’

He feels smug in the way his words seem to make you frazzled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip which makes his heart lodge itself in his throat in return, accidental payback.

Because you are, frazzled that is, it’s a simple detail: knowing how you like your coffee or that you always forget to bring a jacket wherever you go.

It’s the choosing to remember that keeps you in your own head so much on this day, Jeff’s choice to take notice of your habits, and you’re not even sure why it feels so different now, why it seems to have such an earth shattering effect on your thought process but it does.

It feels good to be known without asking, you don’t remember the last time you’ve let someone close enough to even have the opportunity.

Not like this, with his feet kicking against yours under the table as Jeff retells a story from a barbershop shoot you missed earlier that week, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

Hours pass like this and you never really notice, afternoon slipping away without a care in the world, your usual habit of glancing at the clock forgotten in favour of looking at him, face animated in the storytelling, eyes reflecting the sunlight bouncing from the windows as strangers come and go but you don’t want to look away and miss a single thing.

Has he always held your full attention like that? Hours turned to days spent in each other’s company, with your friends crowded around you but no one else truly in your sight.

‘We should head back to the car if we wanna make our booking in time’ Jeff finally says, bursting the little bubble that’s somehow become your favourite spot in a couple of hours.

You nod, standing up to follow him outside after thanking the barista in passing, hands once again intertwined.

Maybe, just maybe your mind has been playing trick on you and there’s nothing different in the way Jeff glances down at you while you roam the streets, there’s nothing unusual about the comfort of his frame towering so closer over yours, or the way he opens the passenger door for you and lands his hand on the top of your thigh as he drives.

It’s nothing more than two friends pushing boundaries in the name of your forsaken assignment.

But then he’s smiling over at you, wind blowing his growing hair underneath the cap and cheeks full with bubbling laughter and you think, god, I love you, almost whisper it across the console when you’re sure the music playing is far too loud for him to ever hear it.

Yeah, it’s definitely you that’s falling, simultaneously for your best friend and apart.

The day continues on, as if you haven’t had an epiphany that’s shaken you to the core.

Jeff put the truck in park, runs around to your side of the car to open your door and reaches for your hand.

You fight the urge to shiver when your fingers intertwine.

‘You ready baby?’ He asks, dimples on show and brown eyes lit with underlying excitement at the prospect of the next part of your evening.

‘I would be if you finally told me what it is exactly that we’re doing’ you whine, lips forming into a playful pout that Jeff mocks with his own before letting your hand go in favour of throwing his arm around your shoulder to pull you tight into side.

He comes clean with his lips pressed against your forehead, a half peck accompanied by an instruction ‘We’re just around the corner, you’ll see’ Once you do, the excitement surges through you.

‘The Broad?’ Jeff observes carefully, fondness sparking in his heart at how easily your expression brightens at the sight.

Deep inside, he’s already sure you’re bound to be the most angelic work of art he’ll see tonight, a masterpiece of freckles, scars and booming laughter all wrapped up in the best girl he’s ever had.

Jeff coughs, hand flying to rub at the back of his neck as he nods in answer to your question.

‘I got us tickets to that light exhibit you wanted t-’ Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets as you interrupt.

‘Kusama? I thought they were sold out’ your attempts at getting tickets proving futile in months passed.

You watch the man shrug, expression a mixture between sheepish and smug, ‘I have my ways doll.’

The only thing left to do is leap into his awaiting arms, you whisper a gentle thank you with your head furrowed into his neck, lips pressed against the skin there momentarily, the touch is so feather light Jeff’s left wondering if it ever really happened as you pull away only to grab his hand and head inside with a new found bounce to your step.

He’s right. The mirror rooms are beautiful, each installation of light stretching on in its endless path.

Your eyes brightened by colour in wonder, each reflecting in the smile that shows your teeth and dimples as Jeff takes pictures and poses accordingly at your request.

He listens to your explanations , every single thought, hangs on to every word as it leaves your pretty lips.

I could stay here forever. The thought presents itself through an exhale in your mouth, eyes travelling around the final room to land on the brunet that’s asking one of the other visitors to take a picture of you guys. Jeff returns with a sweet older lady in tow.

‘C’mere doll’ he finds himself behind you, arm wrapped around your waist and palm splayed across your stomach, you smile, first at the lady and then again in preparation for the picture when the same hand turns your frame around and closer in his clasp, Jeff’s face leaning down.

The flash goes off. He doesn’t kiss you, merely hovers with his forehead pressed against your own, but each of your erratic breaths makes the cupid bow of your upper lip graze the tip of his own.

‘You two make a lovely couple, it’s sweet to see two young people so in love’ the older lady interrupts the storm brewing in your heart.

The two of you reluctantly pull away, each reeling at the almost that hangs in the air as Jeff clears his throat and takes his phone back.

We do..I am, you admit to yourself, gaze following the man that’s somehow the brightest beacon of light to your pacified mind.

You’re surrounded by art, sculptures and reflections of beauty but there’s only one masterpiece worth observing in wonder for eternity if you get the chance.

Unknowingly to you, Jeff’s heart is settling in his rib cage with the same realisation. What now?

Something changes. Shifts as you exit the art gallery to be met with darkness of the night and sidewalks illuminated by streetlights.

Jeff’s at ease, movements intentional as his hand slips into your own.

You lift the intertwined fingers up to kiss his knuckles, pretending the blush you see dusting his cheeks and mirrored in your own is caused by evening breeze and not this new found quiet affection that feels so right.

‘Hungry?’ Jeff asks, breaking the comfortably silence as he swings your hands as you walk to the car.

‘Mmmm’ you ponder, ‘we could cook something back at mine?’ he nods, the journey spent listening to another one of your playlists made with him in mind.

It should still terrify you. How your body slots against his, filling every space and gap with gentle precision, each of you mindfully working around the other as you teach him how to make the pasta dish of yours Jeff loves.

The rest of the evening slipping past you in a domestic bubble of his aftershave wafting through the air and directly into your nose as you cuddle into his chest on the couch.

‘Y/n...baby wake up’ the soft whisper stirs you awake.

The moan of protest that leaves your mouth in realisation of being awake causes Jeff’s chest to rumble in laughter under your weight.

‘Let’s get you to bed doll’ he insists again.

‘Mhm...yeah, I wanna shower first’ you protest sleepily, body clinging to his warmth like a koala as Jeff sits up and begins the journey to your bedroom.

Though once he sits you and pulls away you open your eyes to see the tiles of your bathroom from the sink counter.

Your eyes watch his every move, white cotton shirt stretched along his muscled back as Jeff turns on the shower and sets it to a warm temperature that immediately fills the room with steam.

He turns around to give you a soft smile, a sweet go ahead before turning to step out.

You’re not sure when you move, feet meeting the cold floor tiles as your small hand wraps around his wrist.

Jeff’s lost, brown eyes searching your own for an answer once he turns around, only seeing the vulnerability laced in your own that causes a stammer in his heart.

You’re not sure what you’re doing, toeing this invisible line as you pause to momentarily fidget, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip before you whisper ‘Stay.’

One word, short and simple but enough to shatter the thin veil of almost that’s hang over both of you all day, if not for months.

You think he’ll protest, respond with a Jeff like nervous giggle and the shake of his head that’s meant to let someone down easily, you’ve seen it happen in the past with your very own eyes.

Instead, you watch the man take a shaky breath, eyes fleeting up and down your frame that’s changed into a hoodie of his earlier.

He moves, hands instinctively reaching in your direction before they go for his own T-shirt instead, each garment falling to the floor with a thud as you slip your own off and step inside, distorted by the foggy window of your shower.

Jeff hovers outside, inches of colourful glass separating him from you.

Before you have a chance to call out his name he’s inside, pools of darkened brown tracing every detail of your bare face framed by wet hair.

His gaze drops only for a short second, but it feels like a lifetime as you allow yourself to admire his toned chest and pause at the deep v lines of his hips without looking any lower.

‘Turn around’ the gentle command pulls you away from reverie, you do as he asks.

Breath quivering in your throat as you watch his hands reach to the shelf built into the wall to pull out your favourite bottle of shampoo before he squirts some onto his palm and begins to massage the soap into your strands, from the roots down to the ends that fall down against the lover skin of your back.

The sensation is heavenly, Jeff’s long fingers gentle in their effort to clean your hair thoroughly before moving on to conditioner.

You turn around after, silently returning the favour once he gets the hint and leans down slightly to match your height and allow you easier access to the locks matted against his forehead.

There’s a moment of clarity, your eyes falling closed as he pulls you into his wet and naked chest, arms wrapping around your shoulder as you both sigh against each other.

It remains, buzzing in the air when you slip into the bed and slot yourself against his side, head on his chest and leg thrown across his own as Jeff whispers a sweet good night that’s met with your soft snores.

It’s gone in the morning. When you wake up tangled in cold sheets and alone, tears blurring your vision at the realisation that your twenty four hours is finally up.

#hope u enjoy my love!!!🥺 this entire series is dedicated to u anyway but especially this part💓💖💗#thank u all for reading!!🥰❣️#lessons in love #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction #credit to my baby Clara for the beautiful #photo** she’s a beaut and so as her edits❣️✨#ughitsbaby

159 notes · View notes

naturepointstheway · 4 years ago

Text

Two Outer Wilds Fic Authors recommendations!

There are some absolutely stellar quality fanfictions in the Outer Wilds fandom on Archive of Our Own and one or two where it’s practically criminal how few kudoses/bookmarks they have (what is coming to this world smh). I would even say I have favourite authors among them as well, and there are fics there that Kelsey Beaucham (the writer for OW) would be proud of (if I were in their shoes!) Basically, if I had to choose someone to write the writing for the next OW thing (be it DLC or otherwise), these are the amazing human beings I’d pick. And yes, I am one of those who will gush in a manner that Cassava would find “gelatinous”. I don’t care. Because I am full of love for their writing.

Author Rec: BlackBlood1872

Normally I hesitate to read fics with second person points of views, BUT they do their fics with absolute finesse and flawlessness that it doesn’t matter. In a way it fits, because when one plays Outer Wilds, they are the character. What you experience in emotions is perfectly valid to project upon the Hatchling. It’s your experience and your game and no one else’s. All three of their fics on AO3′s OW section are absolutely worth it, especially,, ESPECIALLY “The Day Riebeck Forgot” (though not in 2nd pov) which warmed and broke (and then warmed and broke at least three times over) my heart from start to finish. Let’s say Riebeck finally gets to meet a Certain Friend on a Certain Moon and it’s as amazing, exhilarating, beautiful, and heart-breaking as you’d expect. If I were stranded on, like, Mars or something, and I could only have one fic with me from each of my fave fandoms, THIS would be my pick for OW. Honestly, for me, it’s hard to top “The Day Riebeck Forgot” and...I can only gush about it because I have no more words for how amazing it is. It’s a 12/10 rating for me.

“Neither Benign nor Hostile” - based on a line from Gabbro about dying a few loops ago - is a small fic, one that can be read in the space of time it takes to roast a marshmallow over the campfire, but it smacks you in the feels (much harder than your average marshmallow) and leaves you reeling (at least it did for me.) The mark of a truly gifted and skilled writer is one who can effortlessly break a reader’s heart and tell a whole story in under 1000 words. It is a very maturely written fic, touching upon grief, loneliness, the deep need for the company of the only one other Traveler who knows about the loop, and it really changed my view on the game as well.

“like the sun and moon, they end only to begin again” - in a similar vein to the previous fic, this explores the many ways you can die in the game, and how it affects the Hatchling and their relationships with life, death, other characters, and the universe. The dialogue is absolutely top notch as in their other fics, and flows with natural ease and symphony. Honestly, if Kelsey Beaucham asked me to pick someone to take over the writing for a DLC or whatever of OW, I’d pick this author, no hesitation. There are no waffles or fluff in their dialogue nor narration, whittled to the finest instrument of storytelling it can be. You get the sense of the Hatchling having had to grow up so fast and consider the preciousness and fragility of life while aware of being trapped in a time loop, especially considering it’s literally their first day of launch again and again, experiencing death so many times in various agonising ways that it has “become routine”.

Author Rec: PartlyCloudySkies

‘monument’ - This exquisitely narrated piece with its flawless, natural, mature dialogue follows a conversation among the Nomai in the statue workshop, touching on science and art, and how they blend together. To Phlox, the creation of the statues wasn’t just a scientific endeavour, it was also an artistic, creative project that drew on a passion for the art. Daz provides an alluring contrast in their views as an engineer, where to them, it was all science and little to do with artistic endeavour, generating a deep conversation between the two characters.

“You don’t suspend art, Daz. It happens.”

The second chapter is enriched in the same finely-tuned narration and dialogue between Hornfels and Esker, touching on nostalgia for the old days, especially for when they used to all sit around the campfire and tell stories and play music. I also loved their discussion on past astronauts of the space programme, and their different personalities and approaches and views on space and spaceflight (yes, Slate, I’m looking at you). I love that Feldspar was essentially the Hermione of the group during Hornfels’ lectures, waking everyone up after they fell asleep. This is well worth a re-read (and another re-re-re-read...)

‘orbits’ - Longfic oneshots, this one clocking just shy of 10K words, are my favourite things in fandoms and I always love getting stuck in one (and also writing them, depending on the fandom (read: Life is Strange), and when one is as well written as this, it’s perfect. This follows both Hatchling and Solanum on not just their inaugural journeys to space and the Quantum Moon, respectively, but also their character development through time. We see Solanum go from a little child scared of the Eye to one who is absolutely passionate about their coming of age pilgrimage. Each are imbued with individual personalities and views on the world and people around them, as well as insatiable desire for knowledge and exploration.

#(still love ya Cassava)#Outer Wilds #fanfic recs

26 notes · View notes

veorlian · 4 years ago

Text

honey tongue

The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.

my submissions for @hightown-funk are up!! here’s the first one <3

read it on ao3 here

The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets.

Well. More riots than usual, at least.

Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.

And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales.

He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.

“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”

“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them.

“It was not,” Marian tossed back.

“Was too."

Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.

“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”

“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.

“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.

“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”

“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.

“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”

“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.

“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.

“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.

“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.

“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.

“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.

“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.

She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.

“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”

“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”

“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”

“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.

“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.

“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.

“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”

Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. What the hell…?

“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.

“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”

“Hey—” Carver began.

The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.

Plus, you’re not as good-looking.

Did Varric think she was good-looking?

Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually matter to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.

Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.

It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And so.

“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.

“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.

“You’re my favourite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.

She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.

After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.

And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that. … Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.

It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine.

Until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).

She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.

“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.

“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.

“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. What the hell?

The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.

He missed it, when it wasn’t there.

He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Oh.

With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.

Shit. … The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.

She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.

“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.

“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Marian, I—” Record scratch, freeze frame. Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.

“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”

His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.

She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.

“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.

She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.

“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.

“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.

“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.

“I have as well,” she said at last.

“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”

“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.

#this was such a joy to write #da2 #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #hightown funk

38 notes · View notes

lorem-ipsam · 3 years ago

Text

Hey, have you heard these 50 songs from 2021?

2021 has been a truly impressive year for music if nothing else, the quality and quantity of new releases thro I'VE CREughout the year has been staggering and honestly a little overwhelming at times. There are tracks that back in March I thought would for sure be some of the best releases of the year but were just utterly steamrolled in the last few months. As is now tradition I've collated a playlist of my personal 50 favourite tracks of the year (limited to one song per artist) and explanations for each tracks inclusion can be found below. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2hYQ14m6R0VDA5b2mVQYuy?si=18fe3bfea3504a11

Peter Talisman - The Absolute Scene At Stanton Drew

Let us start this list as we mean to go on, with something absolutely fuckin' weird. Peter Talisman is a multimedia project by electronic musician Slugabed and Samuel Organ (of The Physics House Band). I can't get enough of this stuttering otherworldly sound, it's so delightfully unusual, just when you think you can pin it down it goes off in an entirely new direction.

Sleep Token - Alkaline

A few tracks on this list are going to be influenced by the most important thing to happen to me this year, the return of live music to my life. Sleep Token were one of the first few bands I saw live post pandemic and I fell in love instantly. there's such an overblown theatricality to their music, it's captivating. The blend of radio friendly pop vocals and hooks with djenty guitars and drum fills really works for me, Alkaline may be their finest example of this formula.

Bo Burnham - All Eyes On Me

Bo Burnham's Inside was a triumph that I would recommend to absolutely anybody. Performance art for the pandemic years, a deeply personal, introspective look at the creative process at the cost of ones own mental health and the place of comedy in a world that is falling apart around us. All Eyes On Me is the emotional cornerstone of the project, a Kanye inspired meditation on ego and the desire to be seen within the slow oblivion that envelopes us all.

Evan Greer - Back Row

This track released almost exactly a year after I last went to see a live band and absolutely destroyed me, it made me feel like I was back there, in amongst a crowd of people connected by a love of music. It's such a beautifully evocative, yearning love letter to every aspect of live music, and to that feeling of belonging to something bigger that only a gig can bring about. Also "There were nights when toxic masculinity couldn't even ruin the moshpit" is such a wonderfully specific lyric that I love it.

SION - The Blade

I don't have a huge amount to say here other than I didn't realise how much I'd missed Howard Jones fronted Killswitch until I heard this song. His clean vocals are just absolutely unparalleled and the harsher vocals go so unbelievably hard here paired with the fantastic technical guitar work of Jared Dines, it's just a delight to listen to over and over again.

Maude Latour - Block Your Number

This sounds really rubbish, but I think the main reason this track has made it onto the list is because I was so underwhelmed by Lorde's third album. This scratches so many of the same itches I wanted that record to scratch. The bittersweet breakups, the storytelling journey, the lyrics that sound almost too clever for their own good, the layered vocals and harmonies. It's all very Lorde, but then there's this high energy chorus that punches through and really makes it stand out as it's own thing.

Royal Blood - Boilermaker

I've always been a bit cold on Royal Blood in the past, but this track has an undeniable level of swagger. It's such a groove, like a cross between QOTSA and Muse in the best way, straightforward fuzzy feelgood rock music.

Black Dresses - Bulldozer

I remember seeing a comment where somebody described Bulldozer as WAP for intellectuals and that's absolutely ridiculous but I also love it. The sound design here is exquisite, confrontational and disconcerting. Nothing in the track quite sits right lyrically or sonically, there's an emptiness to the sound, a feeling of irreparable brokenness, of something reconstructed but without spirit. Damn I love Black Dresses.

Slayyyter - Clouds

"I always drink to the sound of a drum"... This is the most upbeat song about severe depression and alcohol dependency I've ever heard. The juxtaposition of musical and lyrical tone, europop dance beats paired with lyrics like "I don't wanna think, pour another drink, so I don't have to deal with anything", hit in such a particular way that accentuate both elements brilliantly.

Olivia Rodrigo - deja vu

Who doesn't love a good break up song? There's such a cold, disconnected, bitterness to deja vu. It's like a Gen-Z You Oughtta Know, blending synth pop and alt rock sounds for a tone that's almost too cool to really care about the ex who's the subject of the track.

The Physics House Band - Drifter

The Physics House Band are back babyyy! This is their first outing without bass player Adam Hutchison and while I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the driving driving basslines, their absence has opened up the bands sound in some really interesting ways. Drifter is a sprawling prog-jazz odyssey and a perfect opener to the bands fourth LP as it drifts between tones of Tarkus era ELP and 1960's free jazz.

Rolo Tomassi - Drip

Rolo Tomassi never disappoint and Drip sounds downright evil in the best way, Eva Spence's vocals have gone from strength to strength ever since their debut and this is a new high as far as I'm concerned. The way the synth tones cut through the heaviness in the latter half of the track is beautiful.

AFI - Dulcería

Dulcería sounds like nothing else AFI have ever done before, which for a band as chameleon-like as AFI isn't really that surprising. Dulcería also sounds nothing like you'd ever expect an AFI track to sound like. Hunter's bass line underpinning the song is just so cool here and we get to here a totally new side of Davey's vocal style. For a die-hard AFI fan this song was a unexpectedly fresh take on the band.

Halsey - Easier Than Lying

When I heard that Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross were going to be producing Halsey's latest album I was excited, but nothing prepared me for just how hard I fell for the album, it's honestly some of my favourite Nine Inch Nails adjacent music and Easier Than Lying is a particular standout, showcasing how well Halsey's voice works alongside the singular tone that Trent and Atticus are able to evoke.

Poppy - EAT

There's one huge reason why EAT is here, it's weird hearing a song deal so openly with eating disorder issues like this and it really struck me just how much that spoke to me. That aside though, as a song EAT slaps, it feels like a further evolution of what Poppy was doing on I Disagree, whereas that album felt like a homage to various genres of metal, EAT feels like Poppy taking metal sounds and making them her own instead of just mimicking other bands.

Drumcorps - For The Living

I love the use of chiptune sounds on this track, gives me some real oldschool chipcore vibes but with some more modern metal production technique and sensibility. Some really great high energy fun.

Dying Wish - Fragments of a Bitter Memory

Dying Wish came out of nowhere for me this year with this single and quickly became one of my most anticipated album releases. There's such an astronomical emotional heft to Fragments, from the opening lyrics right to the fading moments of the breakdown that closes the track, I was utterly gripped on first listen and have been for every repeat since.

The Muslims - Fuck These Fuckin Fascists

Sometimes do you just need to say "Fuck These Fuckin Fascists"? Well The Muslims have the perfect track for you.

Creeper - Ghosts Over Calvary

The continual evolution and adaptation of Creeper from album to album is something fascinating to me, especially when it means more lead vocals for Hannah Greenwood. Ghosts is such a fantastic bit of 80's goth rock, resplendent with Creeper's penchant for theatricality. The spoken word section and lead into the solo is one of those musical moments that makes me grin with just how playful it is.

Rebecca Black - Girlfriend

If you had told me a decade ago that my 2nd most listened to track of the year was by Rebecca Black (you know, Friday) I'm not sure what exactly I'd do, but utter disbelief would be a big part of it. Girlfriend is fantastic though, an iconic queer bop with such a sugary sweet moreishness that I can't help but come back to it over and over and over again.

Frank Carter - Go Get A Tattoo

Seeing Frank Carter perform this live with Lynks was one of the highlights of my year. It's such a feelgood piece of sing-along rock and truly I think we can all agree that we "Never want to lockdown again".

Press To MECO - Gold

This sound is not generally what I expect from Press To MECO, I am very much not complaining though. This manages to simultaneously sound incredibly fun and also absolutely so fucking sinister. I'm a sucker for "the bit where the riff comes back but slower" and it's done so well here.

Architects ft. Simon Neil - Goliath

While I have my issues with Architects "For Those That Wish To Exist", one thing it really has going for it is that it sounds HUGE. As you'd expect from the title Goliath is the pinnacle of this, every aspect of the track sounds absolutely massive. Simon Neil's guest vocals are a delight on this track as well, it is often these days you get hear him completely let loose like he does on the breakdown here. More harsh vocals in future Biffy, Simon, pls.

CHVRCHES ft. Robert Smith - How Not To Drown

I always felt that CHVRCHES are at their best when indulging their gothier tendencies, and you don't get much more goth than a feature by Robert Smith. I absolutely adore how the track opens up after the bridge and basically becomes a Cure song for the last minute, such a great blend of sounds.

Backxwash ft. Ada Rook - I LIE HERE BURIED WITH MY RINGS AND MY DRESSES

God, this goes so unbelievably hard. Ada Rook's screams sound possessed and I've already mentioned my love for Black Dresses production. Then you add Backxwash's anxiety laden verses and this track is pure nightmare fuel.

The World Is A Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid To Die - Invading The World of the Guilty as a Spirit of Vengeance

...and the award for longest band name and song title goes to... But in all serious this is a really beautiful piece of emo post-rock. "I crave more luxury disposables, a beautiful gym to have a heart attack in", whilst lyrically utterly bleak, the guitar lines are so emotive and energetic and the vocal lines delivered so well this song is infinitely relistenable.

Lil Nas X ft. Jack Harlow - INDUSTRY BABY

Those trumpets!!! Lil Nas X continues to be one of the most interesting musical artists on the planet, everything about this track and accompanying video is so perfect, how Lil Nas X appropriates a hyper masculine form of brag rap and then converts into an anthem of queer celebration, juxtaposed with Jack Harlow's excellent verse. Art.

Pom Poko - Like A Lady

Like A Lady features my favourite moment in music this year, at the 1 minute and 45 second mark there's a guitar lick that comes in and it's the most fantastically overblown bit of prog nonsense, it makes me laugh every time I hear it. Outside of that though, Like A Lady is a fantastic bit of turned-up-to-11 art punk that wears it's influences proudly on its sleeve.

Sharon Van Etten and Angel Olsen - Like I Used To

The first of two Sharon Van Etten duets to feature on this list, this is such a perfect dream collaboration. Both artists vibes work together so well complimenting each other while giving each other space to add their own individual tone to the track.

Big Lad - Maaaate

Just absolutely wild chaotic energy. Big Lad's breakcore but with live drums is a shot of pure adrenaline, and Maaaate is a track I absolutely can't wait to see them play live in the future.

IDLES - MTT 420 RR

This for me is the best IDLES have sounded since Brutalism. Forgoing their usual blunt force approach to post punk MTT 4420 RR is a dark, ominous, bleak track that slowly builds into a melancholy maelstrom of anxious anticipation and leads into the rest of Crawler beautifully.

Voronoi - The Nauseator

Oh hey, we've managed to get over halfway through this list before I drop a 10+ minute track on you! The Nauseator is an epic journey filled with the sort of mathcore you'd hear from the likes of Dillinger Escape Plan but through the lens of contempary jazz. It's a sound that almost defies explanation and just needs to be heard to be understood.

Haru Nemuri - Old Fashioned

Old Fashioned is another immensely creative track from Haru Nemuri, a rage filled banger full of experimental punky instrumentation and lyrics that reference the existentialism of Sartre and Beauvoir.

The Hell ft. Jeremy Lonsdale (Jamie Lenman) - The Open Road

Well this is just fun. The Hell's tongue-in-cheek approach to hardcore has always been particularly amusing to me and I'm not sure I've ever not been delighted by Jamie Lenman. Hearing the Lenmeister channel washed up star "Jeremy Lonsdale" is an absolute joy. Not to mention that the breakdown on this track unironically slaps.

Black Country, New Road - Opus

Another end of year list, another entry for Black Country, New Road. I've already gone over so much of why I love this band in previous lists and all of that applies here, but Opus sees them add elements of klezmer to their sound and it is absolutely wild.

CLT DRP - Ownership

The first new track to drop from CLT DRP since last years Without The Eyes, Ownership, a track about the claims we purport to have over another's time and energy, is filled with a seething anger that bursts forth in a full bodied assault of noise in the songs chorus. I had the good fortune to see the track performed earlier this year, and it hits so hard in a live environment.

SQUID - Pamphlets

UK Post Punk is truly having a resurgence at the moment and Squid's Bright Green Field may be its finest moment to date. There is such a fantastic frenetic energy to vocalist Ollie Judge's delivery on Pamphlets as the listener is carried through an ever shifting tableau of paranoia and misinformation.

Pupil Slicer - Panic Defence

Taken from wikipedia: The gay panic defense or homosexual advance defence is a legal strategy in which a defendant claims to have acted in a state of violent, temporary insanity, committing assault or murder, because of unwanted same-sex sexual advances. The trans panic defense is a closely related legal strategy applied in cases of assault, manslaughter, or murder of a transgender individual with whom the assailant had engaged in or was close to engaging in sexual relations with and claim to have been unaware that the victim was transgender, producing in the attacker an alleged trans panic reaction, often a manifestation of homophobia and transphobia. It's a brutal vile ugly thing, something Pupil Slicer's merciless mathcore catches expertly.

Every Time I Die - Post-Boredom

That bass intro. Post-Boredom is about transformation of the self through the vessel of death, both death of the body and death of the ego. It posits the question what would you do with a clean slate, to pull the trigger and start over. It's unusual to find ETID quite this introspective, but Post-Boredom doesn't let up on the riffs and energy the band excel at.

Zeal & Ardor - Run

Run sees Zeal & Ardor add elements of industrial metal to the bands usual blend of black metal meets gospel and soul. The result is a thunderous track of nightmarish intensity as Manuel Gagneux screams "Where's your fucking god, When your about to rot?" with demonic fury.

Xiu Xiu ft. Sharon Van Etten - Sad Mezcalita

The second in our series of Sharon Van Etten duets, Sad Mezcalita is a hauntingly delicate track. In turns moody and despondent and wistfully dreamlike as Jamie Scott and Sharon van Etten spin a scene of relationships doomed to failure.

Coheed and Cambria - Shoulders

I'm not sure there's any other song I've had as much pure enjoyment out of as Shoulders, every single second seems to be crafted to be the epitome of sonic exuberance. Claudio Sanchez's vocals sound so good and the riff is an absolute killer.

Crossfaith - Slave of Chaos

This is the heaviest thing I've heard from Crossfaith in a long while. Taking more cues from hardcore punk than on previous releases Slave Of Chaos is absolutely punishing in its intensity, while continuing the bands penchant for blending in some really entertaining electronic elements into their sound. The pits for this one are going to be immense.

Placebo - Surrounded By Spies

I hate to use the phrase "a return to form", but this is a return to form in every way for Placebo. For one thing, they finally sound like the band I fell in love with again, instead of the watered down rock act they had become. Surrounded by spies is a paranoid thriller in song form, a fearful narrative that builds to a crescendo of distrust and confusion.

***Lucy Dacus - Thumbs***

Lucy Dacus has an incredible skill as an artist and performer for expressing relationships and emotional complexities in a really direct way that throws the listener right into that headspace. It's why Night Shift is one of my all time fav songs and Thumbs is up there with it. This is undoubtedly my song of the year.

Eskimo Callboy - We Got The Moves

Time for a wild gear change. I wasn't sure that Eskimo Callboy would be able to repeat the batshit insanity of Hypa Hypa, but 'Moves' is all that and a bag of chips. Just absolutely ridiculous irony drenched feel good summer nonsense with a breakdown that unapologetically slaps.

Bicurious - We're All Totally Fucked

We're All Totally Fucked is like Biffy Clyro and And So I Watch You From Afar had an incredibly pessimistic baby and it inherited all the greatest elements from both bands. Bicurious are one of my favourite 'guitar bands' to emerge in recent years and this track makes it clear why.

Tom Morello & Pussy Riot - Weather Strike

What if Rage Against The Machine but Pussy Riot? An absolute rager of a protest track with some fantastic riffs being laid down by Morello.

Orla Gartland - You're Not Special, Babe

You're Not Special, Babe is one of those songs that found me when I needed it most. I've long been a fan of Orla's frank and emotionally open approach to songwriting, but this feels like something different. A song about the collectiveness of the human experience, a call to get out of your own head and understand that we all have shit we're going through.

PROJECTOR - Zero

Finishing this list with one of my favourite new discoveries this year. I saw PROJECTOR as part of a one day festival back in September and was totally blown away by seeing this song performed live. There's such a chaotic untamed power to it, the way the chorus punches through. The production on this recorded version really doesn't do it justice, but I'd be remiss not to put a track that had given me so much joy on here.

#music

6 notes · View notes

secretive3amramenmaker · 4 years ago

Text

More Fire Force Opinions That Literally Nobody Asked For (pt.2)

Guess who finished the manga~ Guess who finished the manga~ This gal~ I’m surprised that my Fire Force rant/essay meta was so well received by the fandom, thank you guys so much!!! Anyways, today I’ll be discussing some a lot of my ideas, opinions, thoughts, future predictions, and commentary on moments from the Fire Force manga.

Warnings: Spoilers for future Fire Force Season Two arcs, and for the Fire Force manga. Read at your own discretion! Now that the warnings are over, onwards! ヽ(ヅ)ノ

(I’m actually trying to order my opinions via arcs, but I feel that this is really important, so I’m putting it first.)

1. There are no iPhones in the Fire Force.

This is so sad? My favourite characters don’t know the joy that is staying up late, scrolling through social media, watching YOUTUBE, having MEMES, KNOWING👏THE👏GREATNESS👏THAT👏IS👏VINES!!!

I’m slightly disappointed that Vulcan, who is literally named after the god of forging himself, who can make frickin’ HOLOGRAMS, didn’t bring back any of the pre-Catalysm technology to recreate, improve, or experiment with. As an expert engineer (I say this 0.2% seriously, with the two years of high school engineering course experience under my belt), I would’ve been interested to see what kind of gadgets Vulcan could whip up. *insert ‘Inspector Gadget theme song*

Please have this very sad Jigglypuff to show how sad this is.

2. Sister Iris and Religion in the Fire Force Storyline

In the beginning of the Fire Force series, I’ve accepted the fact that Iris' role as noncombatant, meant to act as the religious and public face of the Eighth Company. I think it is a fascinating role, because it allows the story to explore the idea of religion and belief in depth, which I was really looking forward to. I was excited how the author would handle Iris’ character, but I’m somewhat disappointed that it took so long for us to see Iris and other side characters like Maki and Tamaki become more fleshed out (I’m not counting Iris’ and Hibana’s backstory in Season 1. I felt that was more backstory to flesh out Hibana’s character rather than Iris’).

Throughout Fire Force’s story, some of the things I looked forward to the most were the religious elements, motifs, themes, and questions that are sprinkled throughout the story, one of my favourites being the portrayal of the dichotomy of religion. In Joker’s backstory, we see the darkness of the Holy Sol faith, and what happens when any religious belief is taken TOO far, without any regard for human life or rights. This idea of viewing humans as a collective, no regard for the individuality and feelings of a single person in the pursuit of faith is embodied by the captain of the Shadow of the Holy Sun, Joker’s former captain and abuser. However, we also get to see the goodness religion and belief can achieve in Iris’ mini arc, which focuses on Iris’ internal struggle as she struggles with her faith after being informed of the Evangelist’s part in the founding of the Holy Sol’s religion. Shinra and Huo Yan Li, the bucket hat 1st Brigade lieutenant (Seriously, which is the correct way to pronounce this guy’s name? Huo Yan Li?? Foien Li???) interaction in the Iris arc really summed up the arc and Iris’ character beautifully. Religion and belief gives people closure, hope, and strength to keep on moving forward. Seeing the anime adaption was an amazing experience. Fire Force’s animation was the reason I decided to watch it in the first place (before staying for the intriguing plot and religious side plot), but this particular episode?? Pure art. The colouring, ambience, storytelling? So good＼\ ٩( ᐛ )و /／

Like, the little detail of the burning nun in Iris’ eyes? (lmao sorry for the extra trauma, sweet child) *chef’s kiss*

The importance of belief is also hinted in the Asakusa arc, where all the district’s inhabitants believe in Benimaru, and expanded upon in later manga chapters, when we learn that Adolla is linked to humanity’s perception and beliefs about the world around them.

I would’ve liked Iris a lot more if we got to further explore her character and the affects of religion on others more deeply, perhaps see Iris visiting the Infernals’ families and loved ones, trying to help give closure through the nation’s (mostly) shared faith in Sol. They mentioned offhandedly in both anime and manga that Iris visits the deceased’s families, and I felt it would’ve given the deaths more significance and depth if we get screentime of how families are affected by the death of their loved ones. It would have also given the Holy Sol’s religion more depth and meaning if we saw believers of Sol’s actions due to their religion, (also giving more impact when we learn surprise surprise! The Holy Sol temple is founded by the Evangelist!) since belief without actions is just lip-service.

I would have also liked to see how Iris’ prayers affect others in the Eighth company. We do get to see this, 140+ CHAPTERS LATER in the mini Iris arc does Shinra (finally) mentions how Iris’ prayers helps him not lose sight of why he serves as a firefighter and kills Infernal. I’m glad that we got this scene, because better later than never, especially since Iris’ and Shinra’s discussion and overall the entire Iris mini arcs shows the power of prayer, but I would’ve like to have this topic discussed sooner.

2. Obi’s Sole Flaw

I think that Obi was an okay character, but they kind of pushed the boundary of his “normalcy” when we saw him topple pillars and rip railways out of the ground with “brute strength”. There are limits to the human body, it is fragile, and it doesn’t matter how much conditioning or “going beyond your limits” you do. People do experience boost of adrenaline, which is probably what the very anime-like titled “Pressure of Death” is based on, since life or death situations can heighten your performance and strength. However, I do understand that this IS shonen, and it isn’t meant to be realistic.

What made Obi’s sole flaw (and a physical flaw, at that!) was his “normalcy” while surrounded by more powerful individuals then he, and having to make up for something he can’t help by working twice as hard as everybody else. Now, although I was disappointed that Obi didn’t have any character/moral flaws, what made Obi’s character mediocre to me wasn’t the choice of Obi’s sole flaw. In fact, I could see how this could be an interesting character narrative IF WE LEARN MORE ABOUT OBI’S BACKSTORY, THEREFORE EXPLORING HIS CHARACTER MORE!!! (We only know Obi was a regular firefighter, being decorated twice, and then having his titles revoked for prioritizing the lives of citizens before becoming the captain of the Eighth.) No, what I didn’t like about Obi’s character is that we never see him STRUGGLE with his flaw, how others were born “superior” to him thanks to there invulnerability to flames, how he lives knowing one day he could just burst into flames. There’s SO many interesting things about Obi’s character, that could explained further, making him so much more interesting!!!

On the other hand, Obi’s character is a great role model for what a “normal” person can do (while jacked up on adrenaline, and when they manage to overcome flight reaction in fight or flight). He works hard, training to the best of his ability, doing what he CAN do, pushing his limits so that he can go above and beyond, overcoming the “Pressure of Death”, and staying true to his ideals, something very hard to do in a world where you might burst into flames at any given moment. I know that if I were to wake in a world where I could die any second (I mean, I could die tomorrow in Real Life™, but what are the chances of that?), I would definitely find myself struggling with my faith, and staying true to the morals I admire and was taught by my parents, especially if I was putting myself in danger despite of this weakness.

3. Asakusa Showdown Arc and Shinmon Hibachi

The Asakusa Showdown arc. Yes. Just yes. I-

It was amazing, periodt. The art, the overall aesthetic, the storytelling. *Cue violent fangirling* I took SOOOO many screenshots of the fight between Benimaru and Hibachi, I’m pretty sure my camera roll is 95% manga caps now. I love how the author actually gave a (fairly) valid reason for the cool Japanese aesthetic of this arc, in that Adolla is slowly gradually colliding with the Fire Force universe, causing people’s perception of the fight to seep into the universe. Overall? It. Was. Amazing. Albeit not my favourite arc, (that honour goes to the mini-Iris arc) I think that the Asakusa Showdown arc is easily in my Top 5 Fire Force arcs.

The Asakusa Showdown Arc mirroring and showing the ideals taught in the Mini Iris Arc was quite clever, though I’m not sure if this was purposefully done Okubo, or if I’m just scrabbling at crumbs.

In the Mini Iris arc, we see how religion and belief gives closure; a stark contrast to Asakusa with its proto-nationalist/atheist values. In THIS arc, centering around Asakusa and it’s proto-nationalist inhabitants, we see what happens when there isn’t enough effort to emphasize or give closure in what happened to Hibachi, and his subsequent death.

Shinmon Hibachi, as the leader of the neighbourhood fire watch, understood the significance of killing Infernals; of taking somebody’s life. But because of the unwillingness to let others (i.e. the inhabitants of Asakusa, that one kid who stabs him) understand the weight of killing Infernals and gain closure through understanding the reasons behind his harsh actions, Hibachi shoulders the consequences of both his and the actions of his predecessors’ ALONE, therefore leading to his demise.

The kid who stabbed Hibachi was still a CHILD, and children don’t always have a comprehensive understanding of death and the consequences of responsibility (no matter how much that kid believes he was ready to be an adult and support his mother).

3.5 Extra Worldbuilding Questions About Asakusa

I also have so many questions about Asakusa in general! How is Asakusa powered without being supported by Amaterasu, which is the country’s (and isn’t that mind boggling, that a whole country is supported by one power source with no backup source or other forms of energy/electricity, because of patriotic pride in a machine that might one day shut down, cough manga readers where u at?) I’m assuming that Asakusa mainly use coal, candles, and lamps for energy and lighting, since we did see one example of lighting in Asakusa (an ancient oil lamp), but I’m not sure if that would be sufficient to support a whole district of people. People were able to do that in the olden days, but back then there was a smaller concentration of people, and power necessary to support them.

Is Asakusa a district that is mostly atheist or polytheist? Do the inhabitants believe in no gods, not just the Sun god brought by the White Clads and Raffles I, including the Shinto or Buddhist gods from before the Catalysm, or do they believe in multiple gods/ancestor worship and they just don’t want to worship the Sun God like the rest of the Tokyo Empire because they’re unwilling to accept the new culture, immigrants and religion caused by Amaterasu, wanting to keep up the old Japanese traditions?

4. Arthur Deserves Better Parents 2k20 (Hint of Arthur’s Secret Ability?)

When Team Vulcan + Arthur found Arthur’s parents in the sewers Nether... Honestly, I don’t want to touch on them much, since I want to be (fairly) logical in my opinions on them, not letting my personal feelings twist my hypotheses for what may happen in the future of the Fire Force storyline.

Putting aside Arthur’s parents obvious neglect and bad parenting, I’m curious if Arthur's dad is actually a prophet or did he just get lucky with his delusions. Is this related to how Arthur can notice the difference between dopplegangers and real people? Perhaps because Arthur’s delusions of knighthood are so different from how he truly is (an abandoned child who deluded himself as a knight), therefore allowing him to notice the difference between dopplegangers and Adolla, as they are created by people’s perception of a subject.

5. Let Sho Be a Normal Kid at the End of the Show 2k20

Please let the small child be happy at the end of the manga. I mean, being raised by a cult underground isn’t exactly a Hallmarks childhood. For example, in the beginning of chapter 231, look at how Sho looks longingly at those kids on scooters and was so happy when he got a balloon from the firefighter mascots! (bruh, same balloons bring me so much joy)

I hope that in the end of the manga Okubo lets Sho, Shinra, and Eighth have some quality time. In one of the early arcs (with the first speaking demon, Minamoto?) Shinra saw some kids going to school wearing school uniforms, mentioning that if Sho was still alive, he’d be old enough to go to school. I’d be so sweet if at the end of the manga, Sho would have the chance to go to school, maybe the Fire Force academy (if it’s still running if by the end of the manga they’ve discovered the reason behind Human Combustion), makes friends and beat up anybody who badmouths the Eighth.

6. Cool Combat Medics!

I’d love to see more of the cool combat medics from the Sixth! We only saw the captain, Kayoko Huang, in action with her Asclepius staff pyrokinesis, which, might I add is a fascinating and terrifying ability. Think about it, she’s controlling CELLULAR DIVISION!!! She could start creating tumors in the bodies of her enemies! Could disintegrate people cellularly and no one would know, because fire snake, so no fingerprints!

Anyways, that is all I have right now. Thank you for reading my opinions about “Fire Force”, and for the nice response I got when I published my first opinion piece! Bruh, it took so long for me to edit this... 😔 I’m thinking of doing another meta going more in depth with my theory on Arthur and how he’s able to distinguish the difference between people and their dopplegangers, but that’s for another day. Feel free to discuss about your own ideas or thoughts in the chat, or tell me what you think! I promise I don’t bite. Have a wonderful day!

43 notes · View notes

xsparklingravenx · 4 years ago

Text

to the heavens

Title: to the heavens

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Venti, Diluc, Venti’s Friend, Amos

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,619

Summary: Venti has lost more than most in the pursuit of freedom. One, unassuming evening, Diluc asks a question that prompts him to share those losses.

AO3

“Oh Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”

In the corner of a darkened tavern, a boy dressed in green sang. His fingers danced nimbly across a tinkling lyre, drawing forth sounds that could only be matched by divinity itself. Every word brought forth a new listener, drunkards, guild members, even the bartender himself, who stood steadfast behind the counter with his arms crossed. The story spiralled in song, Mondstadt’s past told to its present.

This boy, a bard, no fighter,

Took Mondstadt in his hands,

Saying no despot will hold on

To these gorgeous, sacred lands

The song itself was a new one, though the green bard had told the story in many forms before. In celebration, in joy, in a simple sharing of knowledge, but never had he sung it like this. The tune was haunting, like it had been possessed by a ghost. His attempts to liven it up had not worked entirely, it seemed.

Eyes closed, the bard carried on. How easy it was, to get caught up in song like this. He’d taken his time writing this one, had bought in his oldest companion to listen in on it. When he’d asked the dragon, Dvalin, how he thought it sounded, the dragon had replied simply, “It sounds like a ballad for a funeral march, Barbatos.”

It was neither a ballad nor a funerary song, the bard thought privately, and he also thought that Dvalin very much needed an updated education in the art of music. That being said, when he opened his audience looked very much morose, as if he’d struck them down with some kind of malady born from tune. Even the bartender, who the bard rarely ever saw look anything other than stone-faced, had his mouth downturned a fraction further.

None of them offered to purchase him a drink, though they did clap for him, and many showered him with coin at the end of his performance, some wiping away inexplicable tears. “Why, thank you! Thank you! Your generosity will be remembered—right when I go and get myself something from the bar with all your wonderful donations!”

Lyre still in hand, the bard marched up to the counter with all the confidence of someone twice his height. Pushing several coins onto the counter, he said, “One dandelion wine, if you please, Master Diluc.”

Diluc looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. His red hair was tied up as it always was. The bard thought it looked like a scorched sunset.

“If I start serving you regularly, people are going to think that I make a habit out of serving the underage," Diluc said.

“Oh, come now, I hardly show up that much!” The bard pushed the coins further across the table, as if that would somehow sweeten the pot. “I’m a paying customer. Angel Share’s most famous one at that. You know, I could write a whole poem about this place, bring people flocking in from all over Teyvat! I have friends in high places too, they’d spread the word even farther…”

“Business is already good enough.”

“And I’m not even underage, so your argument is void and forgotten.”

“Venti—” Diluc stopped, rubbing at his temples. Venti snickered, knowing victory was in reach. “I don’t understand it. Something as old, and as powerful as you, and yet you choose to appear as a child. Why not change? Then you’d encounter no trouble at all.”

It was a valid enough question. Venti leant back on his stall, placing his lyre on the free one next to him. How did he explain it? “It’s…a long story. One that I’m always happy to tell, but you’re free to listen, if you want.”

Dilic’s eyes flicked up to the clock that sat on the wall behind the counter. “Guess it’s a slow enough night. We’re still open for a while, so if you want to talk, then talk. Make it worth my while, though.”

“Only in exchange for a dandelion wine, of course.”

“At which point did I say I even wanted to hear your story?” Diluc asked, his expression utterly flat. “You get one wine, that’s it. I’m not dealing with your drunken antics. I’ve seen them, and I’m not impressed.”

Despite his reluctance, he got the glass and the bottle. Venti hummed as he watched him pour it. It was his favourite; if you could get comfort in a liquid form, then dandelion wine was it. Even old Morax enjoyed it, whenever Venti was willing enough to share it. He’d have to get them together sometime, so they could partake in some festive activities of their own.

Venti cupped his hands around the glass when Diluc handed it to him. He was eager to take the first sip, but he held back. Though he loved his wine, there was perhaps one thing he loved even more. Storytelling was in his blood. It was the reason he was still here after thousands of years of life and more to come.

“I didn’t always look like this, you know,” he said, eager to hook, eager to draw Diluc’s attention fully. And then, he winked.

Without his lyre, he sung once more.

“Master Diluc, let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”

~x~

The sky was a veritable nightmare of storm and fury, and yet, beneath it, life went on as it always did.

Mondstadt was a gilded cage, a prison where its people were protected and safe, yet wanting only for freedom. That was what the wind spirit had learned on its travels through the city. That was the wind spirit had understood upon listening to the singing of the young bard who made his home in the desolate cathedral.

The wind spirit came to listen to him often, for there was no other who could compare to him, not even outside the city. His voice carried on the wind like Decarabian himself favoured him, and maybe he did, enjoying how his songbird sang for freedom while locked in its cage. The young bard worked his lyrics to the bone, conveying so much with so little, emotion and feeling packed not just into his words, but into his nifty work with the instrument he carried. The wind spirit did not know the name of it, but it did love how it looked, how the boy made it sing too.

He wore his hair in braids, and the wind spirit never saw him without his brown cloak, which billowed in the storms that trapped them all. This was a human, it thought. So big, so powerful, with the ability to turn words into inspiration, to make thought into action. This boy was far stronger than the wind spirit, who was a simple thread of a single element, who could be blown away with even the simplest of gusts.

But even as skilled and as powerful as the boy was, it was a difficult existence. Though his magic was in his music, it was not a lucrative position. Much of his audience were struggling themselves, and there was little money to go around. The wind spirit watched from the shadows as the boy suffered; he was an orphan, hiding within the cathedral’s walls from the turbulent weather, sometimes going days without food when he could not afford it. Not even Decarabian helped. As his songbird starved, he paid no attention.

But the wind spirit did. One evening, after dark, when his audience had dispersed, it went searching. The market stalls had been cleared away, but, in a stroke of good fortune, the tiny spirit found something red and round and almost unbruised, tucked away near a tavern. An apple, it had heard the people call this particular fruit. It was not much for a human as big as the bard, but it was better than nothing.

So, with all its might, the wind spirit began to push the apple. It used all its very limited power over the wind, and slowly, it rolled the apple out of its hiding place. The trip back to the cathedral was long, and arduous—though not many people noticed the strange apple and the tiny spirit, for they were hardly important in the grand scheme of their own lives.

After much effort, the wind spirit arrived at its goal; though it soon found itself blocked by an object it had not expected; a heavy set of closed doors barring the way into the cathedral. Irritated, it puffed up its cheeks and kicked its tiny feet at the door. Let me in, it cried silently. I have a gift!

During the day, the doors were always open! How could this happen? Its poor bard was on the other side, starving, and the wind spirit had the answer right there. There was nothing for it; the little spirit would have to get his attention, no matter what.

As a being of the wind, it was easy to manipulate its form into almost nothing at all. It slipped through the cracks between the doors with ease, but the apple remained stuck outside. Popping back into existence as its usual form, the spirit fluttered its pixie-like wings and floated towards where the bard was curled up, his face screwed up as he slept. He was not the only one who called this abandoned cathedral home; there were others sleeping too, boys and girls with no parents, who had nowhere else to go. They were stuck here too. There was nowhere to escape to, not when Mondstadt was closed off to the rest of the world.

The wind spirit stopped in front of the boy’s face. What was he dreaming of, to look like that? Was it a bad dream? Something cruel? Did Decarabian himself appear, taunting the songbird that his freedom would never be near? Likely not, but the wind spirit could not help but consider the possibilities as it shook its stubby arms free of its tiny, white cloak.

It prodded the boy in the face. Once. Twice. The boy stirred a moment before rolling over entirely. No, thought the wind spirit in frustration. Pay attention to me!

So he floated over to the other side, and began again. Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

Finally, the boy cracked open an eye. “Who—”

He cut himself off when he spotted the wind spirit. There was a moment of tense silence, and suddenly, the boy bolted back with a gasp. The wind spirit, equally as shocked, fell onto its back with a shrill little cry.

So alarmed as it was, it kicked its little legs, its wings trapped behind it. It was not until the boy scooped him up and said, “Shh,” that it calmed. “Sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you. You just…well. Scared me.”

The little spirit placed its stubby arms on its waist in an imitation of what it had seen the bard do when he was irritated. This appeared to charm the boy, who let out a tinkling little laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Were you the one poking at me?”

His voice sounded different when he spoke. Still sweet and nice, but not nearly as lyrical. The wind spirit hopped off his hands, and poked at the boy’s stomach. Then, it went flying off towards the door, hoping the boy would get the hint.

“What are you doing?” the boy whispered, keeping his voice low as to not wake the others.

The spirit chirped. It didn’t quite have the facilities for speech, so it could only communicate through gestures and sound. It pointed to the door, and the boy clicked his fingers in triumph. “Ah! You’re trapped in here, and you want to be let out, right?”

Not quite, but at least it would get him to open the door. The little spirit chirped again, and the boy came over, finally pushing the door open. Free, the spirit immediately descended down to perch itself on the apple, arms at its waist again this time as it puffed up its chest in pride.

The boy stared at the apple and the spirit both. After a moment, he knelt down, and the spirit hopped off the apple to push it towards the boy. He took it in his hand, asking, “Is this for me?”

The wind spirit nodded. There was a lot to tell him, but nothing it could say, so it chirped once more. How it wanted to share its appreciation for the music the bard gave so freely, how it wanted to step in where Decarabian wouldn’t, but the apple would have to do for now.

“Thank you,” the boy said, looking at the red shine of the apple, and oh, what kind of words could he come up with to describe it, the spirit wondered? “Really. You don’t know how hungry I am…this means a lot. Do you have a name, little guy?”

The wind spirit shook its head left and right. It had been born from the elements, it had no parents like the boy once would have, and so, it had nobody to name it.

“You look a little like an elf…” the boy said, but the spirit shook its head at that too. “Oh, well, I’m sure I can come up with something for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The spirit could hardly believe its luck! A name! Something humans had! All in exchange for an apple? Surely it was not a fair enough trade. It would have to bring even more to make up for it.

Floating upwards, the spirit tugged at the bard’s sleeve. What’s your name? It wanted to ask so badly, but all it could do was hope that its intent was understood.

The bard tilted his head. “What is it?”

Name! The spirit chirped again. It flew to the bard’s chest and poked him in the chest. You. Tell me!

“Oh! Me?”

The spirit nodded. Finally! It floated up to the bard’s face, listening intently. It didn’t want to miss the moment. It wanted to commit this to memory forever.

The boy chuckled at its antics, and his laugh was such a wonderful thing. Decarabian was a fool, for staying up high, for ignoring his citizens, because listening to this, the wind spirit didn’t know how he could ever justify keeping his people locked away. If only he came down, then maybe he would understand. But he wouldn’t, because, as the people always said, the Archon was a tyrant who only cared about keeping his rule.

But that didn’t matter in the moment. The boy opened his mouth. The spirit listened.

“My name is—”

~x~

“So your story is tied to your song from earlier,” said Diluc, who had poured himself a drink of his own now. Hardly the most responsible act from the owner of Angel’s Share, but who was Venti to judge men on their responsibilities when he barely did anything from one day to the next? “The boy the wind spirit—you— met and the boy in the tale is the one and the same.”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to jump ahead like that!” Venti huffed, taking a sip of his wine. The sweet, floral taste exploded over his tastebuds, the bitter hint behind it only strengthening the flavour. “Back then, Mondstadt was…boring. Stagnant. Everyone was trapped and lonely. They yearned for nothing but freedom, and music was a close way to get it—but the economy was suffering too, and the bard could barely make ends meet.”

“So, what was the name he granted you?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, he named me after some character in a book he was reading at the time. Barbatos, you might be familiar with such a moniker.”

“Interesting,” Diluc said, not sounding very interested at all. “Making Venti a…stage name?”

“Psh.” Venti waved a hand dismissively. It was not a stage name, but they would get to that eventually. The cosy, dark atmosphere of the bar was making him a little drowsy, but he couldn’t just stop here now he’d started. “From there, I always came front and centre to his performances, but I soon came to realise that something was missing. Though he always sang of freedom, though he inspired the people around him to also yearn for it, he didn’t ever sing of what came after. He never sang about what to do with that freedom after their independence had been gained.”

The memories were still clear, despite having taken place over two millennia ago. It was easy to recall how the storms raged over Mondstadt, how they grew and grew, how, one day, Venti had realised how they nearly swallowed up his bard friend’s voice. It was as if Decarabian had grown tired of his singing, as if he’d figured out the truth behind his words and wanted to drown out his songbird before it grew restless enough to try breaking the cage.

“One thing to say, another thing to actually do,” Diluc said, but the way he said it suggested that he knew that better than most. Venti knew a little of his story, but not all of it, mostly gathered in scraps from others. There was a rift between him and that knight, Kaeya, that seemed like it would be difficult to patch. “But, we’re having this conversation right now, and I already heard the ending to your song earlier. He didn’t just sit on his hands.”

That was another memory, one so stark and clear that it might as well have been caught on one of the traveller’s kameras. Venti nodded, and he sung, into his drink.

“I want to see those birds in flight,”

A declaration swift,

But with it came a reckoning

That would set their fates adrift

Diluc said, “Is that really what he said?”

“Word-for-word,” Venti said. Now he really did need another sip. Remembering that statement both warmed him and tore his heart apart. Had the bard never said it, maybe he would have lived his life long, not content, but alive regardless—but Venti knew that a life imprisoned was no life at all. He was desperate to see those birds. To see even one in flight, to see the world outside and know it was accessible, it was a wish worth dying for.

“He wanted to write a poem so great, and he was going to use the birds to do it,” Venti explained around the wine. “I think he could have done it, too. He just…didn’t get the chance, unfortunately.”

In a rare act of compassion, Diluc topped up his glass. Noticing the delight in Venti’s eyes, he warned him, “Just once,” and then set the bottle back down. “So, none of this has actually explained to me why you’re so intent on showing up like you are. Are you actually going to tell me, or is this an elaborate hoax all so you can listen to the sound of your own voice?”

“Hey! I was getting to the point, you’re the one jumping ahead!” Venti glared at him over the top of his glass. “Anyway, my voice is great to listen to. You should be so honoured that the great bard Venti is taking time out of his personal schedule to tell you this.”

“Taking time out of his personal schedule to badger me into serving him wine, I think you mean,” Diluc said.

“Yeesh.” Venti shook his head. “Alright, where was I…oh, yeah. Birds in flight. Okay. Buckle up, Master Diluc.”

And so, he sang once more.

With companions at his side now,

The bard took forth his plan

To topple Mondstadt’s tyrant

And free his fellow man

~x~

The scrolls were scattered all across the cathedral’s floor. Images of sun, sea, and grassland glittered upon them, everything that laid beyond the storm able to be touched, visualised, dreamed of.

The wind spirit floated next to the bard as they both looked at the illustrations. Decarabian’s lover had bought them to show him after she had heard one of his songs. So touched by his tales of what might be awaiting them outside, she had stolen the scrolls from Decarabian’s personal affects, and brought them down to them.

The spirit knew that she was a beautiful woman, in the sense that he knew that the words to describe her would be the same ones traditionally used to describe beautiful women. Her hair was so blonde, it was near white, and it tumbled down her back in waves. Her smile was pleasant and pink, and her hands were slender and thin. They did not seem suited to the bow she carried with her, the bow that she did not need given her status, but she had learned to use anyway.

They were not the only ones looking upon the illustrations. Among the boys and girls who also lived in the cathedral, another new face had joined them; the knight, with hair as red as the sunset one of the images depicted. He carried a claymore wider than his body, and held knowledge of every wine in Mondstadt. Like the lover, he had also heard the bard’s songs of freedom, and he’d been enticed by them.

Somehow, their duo had grown to number four, all of them dreaming of something better. The wind spirit had not left Mondstadt in sometime, for it felt terrible to traverse the storm-clad sky without its friends, but it mattered little when everything it needed was right within the city’s walls. What was there to leave for, when home was right there?

The bard was strangely quiet as he looked upon the scrolls. The wind spirit sat on his knee, looking at them also. It watched in silence as he ran his fingers over the images of suns, of creatures unknown to them all, of gemstones and ore that could not be found in Mondstadt. So much awaited outside, and yet there was no way to reach it.

“There is little left in this city to see,” lamented the lover as she too looked over the scrolls. “Decarabian thinks he loves me, but he only loves his rule. I’ve told him so many times how I wish to see what is outside for myself, and yet…we remain here. Trapped.”

“If only battle were enough to see it done,” said the knight, sat on the pews with his sword at his side. “I would fight my way out of this prison if I could. I would take every man, woman, and child with me.”

The wind spirit chirped sadly, for it could do nothing but watch them. It had no power of its own, no ability to wield a weapon, no Vision to do magic with. It was simply a puff of air, an wayward shard of elemental power, to little to make an impact.

It floated upwards, looking upon a scroll depicting sky so blue, with birds flitting across it. The boy looked at it too, chewing at his lip. Was he so hungry that he had to eat that too?

“But what if…what if we could fight our way out of this prison?” asked the bard, drawing the attention of both the lover and the knight. He was like that; he could garner eyes like Decarabian garnered power. “I want to see the birds in flight. I want to write a poem so great. But…if we stay here, I’ll never do either.”

The wind spirit didn’t understand. What fighting could they do? The knight and the lover were strong, but the bard had little but his lyre, and the spirit had nothing at all. It wanted to ask, but the knight responded for him. “Preposterous!”

“Is it?” asked the lover, one hand at her chest. “Perhaps…perhaps if we go to him, if we show him with our own power what he has done wrong, Decarbia will open his eyes. Maybe he will see me for who I am…!”

“We would have to incite all of Mondstadt into joining us,” said the bard, and the knight looked positively dumbfounded. “It would be no easy rebellion…but maybe it would change something, right? Or, we’re all just going to live our lives caged like this, and that’s…well. It’s not living at all, is it?”

The spirit chirped. But what of the danger! Was freedom worth the possibility of fighting a god? Was that what the bard was trying to tell him?

“You’re mad,” said the knight, shaking his head fondly. “Yet…I can’t deny what you’re saying there. Our entire lives have been spent this way. People have lived and died for hundreds of years, never once seeing outside this storm. It steals our words and our opportunities…and yet nobody has ever challenged it. Not once.”

Was it out of terror? Or acceptance? Did the people take their lives for what they were because they knew there was no way out? Or were they just frightened of change? The spirit didn’t know enough to come up with an answer. It didn’t understand humanity enough to say. But it knew its friend, the bard, and it knew that he would never be scared of change. Instead, he would only ever fear life staying as it was.

The life of a caged songbird was an easy one, but it offered no opportunity for growth. There was no experience to be had within these walls, and at the least, the spirit knew that. So, when the bard turned to it with determination shining in his sky-blue eyes, the spirit understood that change was in the air.

There would be no going back from this. The bard inspired with his words. That was his power. With a hand outstretched to the spirit, he said, “Let’s do this, then. Let’s cast out the tyrant, and tear down the walls. We can take our plight to the masses and garner allies. If all of the city will fight, then what can one single Archon hope to achieve?”

Strength in numbers. That was the key to their locked door, the solution to the puzzle before them. If they showed the scrolls to the people, if the bard sung of the outside and what awaited there, then they could sway opinions.

That night, the wind spirit made a decision. It left Mondstadt for the first time in an age, and it traversed the mountainous region until it found an eagle. It watched it in flight, beating its wings against the midnight sky, stars twinkling above. It thought that, maybe, in the future, there should be a place to watch for sights just like this. Somewhere to view the stars. The sky.

As the eagle flew, a feather fell from its plumage. Inspired, the wind spirit leapt into action, snatching it from the air and cradling the large feather close to its tiny body. It was taller than it, and most definitely heavy, but it was inexplicably beautiful. Brown and soft like an embrace, it would make a wonderous gift for his bard friend.

But, oh, when to give it? Now felt too early. But what if the spirit was to stash it away? Keep it safe and present it to the bard when the battle was won, when the outside world was accessible to them all? Yes. To give it now would only upset the bard. It would only reinforce how he was still locked away.

So the wind spirit took the feather back to Mondstadt, hiding it within the cathedral. Its time would come. Once the rebellion was over, he would hand it over proudly.

After all, it thought, I’ll follow you anywhere, my friend.

~x~

“Hey, Master Diluc…do you have any regrets?” Venti asked.

He’d come to an abrupt stop while telling his story. Thankfully, his glass was still half-full, which was good because he knew he was going to need it for the last part. Diluc, who had been cleaning his own glass, stopped sharply in his movements.

The bar was much quieter now than it had been when Venti had been performing. Most of the other patrons had left by now. It was getting late, and yet Diluc had not done his last call. Instead, he’d carried on listening to Venti’s story, giving him his undivided attention.

“I…have my own, yes,” Diluc said stiffly. “None that I’m willing to share.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” Venti sighed, his earlier cheer having vanished entirely. “I have tons. Guess it’s hard not to, though. Comes with the territory and all. Being old is tough. I dunno how Morax does it.”

“Liyue’s Archon?”

“Yeah. He’s even older than me. He’s seen a lot of death and war in his time. Lost people close to him. That’s how it is.” Venti paused, leaning his elbow on the counter, and then his head on his hand. With his other hand, he circled the circumference of the glass. “I’m not even half his age, did you know?”

“I didn’t, but Morax doesn’t have anything to do with you being underage in my bar.” Diluc put his glass behind the counter and stood back. “So, I can make an educated guess here. You should have given the bard the feather when you had the chance.”

“It’s one of those funny things, huh? When you look back, you can see exactly what you should have done.” Venti thought on it any time he saw an eagle. If he could go back, he would never have stashed the feather. “The rebellion moved fast, once it began to assemble. Decarabian’s lover, Amos, she was swift and deft and eager to join the battle when it finally broke out. She went to the frontlines; she stormed the tower she’d once called home. The knight, he played the part of protectorate. I remember being so impressed, but…then, the God of Storms descended from his tower. And Amos was nowhere in sight.”

Venti’s fingers twitched. He still had her bow, and he sometimes wielded it into his own battles. It was all he’d managed to retrieve from her body, when he’d found it, rent asunder by Decarabian’s winds. Until that moment, he’d never known how damaging his element could be. Anemo was a wonderous thing, but so destructive too. That was the lesson he’d learned.

“You still haven’t gotten to your point, bard,” Diluc said. “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

He certainly didn’t sound like he was, but who was Venti to deny him? Smiling wryly, he began his song once more, building to the climax.

But the war was not without loss

And friends he loved were lost

And as those arrows flew free

For freedom, his life was cost.

~x~

In the aftermath of the battle, as the sun dawned on Mondstadt for the first time in ages, it was the lover that the wind spirit found first, though she was recognizable only from her hair, pale, near white where it hadn’t been stained red with her blood.

Debris had been cast across the city. The God of Storm’s anger had ripped it apart. The lover’s bow was held loose in her fingers, and the wind spirit touched it in sorrow. It was not big enough to take it in its hands. Freedom had been so close for her, and yet she had died in her pursuit of it.

In the storm, the wind spirit had been thrown from its companions, and now it sought them in the wreckage. There were bodies, countless, and the wind spirit found itself wondering, was liberty worth such loss? It had to be, surely. This was what the bard had been dreaming of.

Survivors sought their loved ones. The wind spirit searched too for its own. It had to bring them back to the lover, to retrieve her bow and lay her to rest. She had gone ahead, but the knight had remained behind alongside the bard. He would have protected him. That was his strength.

And indeed, it was the knight whom the spirit found then, hair as red as the apple that the spirit had forged a friendship with. He was knelt over someone as he cast his gaze at the decimated tower of Decarabian, and oh, how the wind spirit’s heart soared. It fluttered through the air, desperate to get to him—

Only to stop short when it laid its own eyes on the body that the knight held close. Arrows riddled their chest, turning their well-worn cloak red with blood. Their braids, so familiar, hung loose and undone. Almost unrecognizable was he, the bard whom the spirit had so dedicated his existence to.

Death was not something the spirit understood well, for it was not something that happened to elemental spirits. Surely the bard was simply injured. He did not look so bad as the lover did. Humans were tough, after all. A little Hydro magic, and he would be perfectly fine. They just had to find a healer.

But as the spirit drew closer, it began to realise that it would not be so simple. Healers only worked on those who still breathed, and the bard was as still as bedrock in the hold of the knight. The knight himself wore an expression so stricken with agony that the wind spirit could hardly believe it. He didn't look like the same man he had been before.

When he noticed the spirit, he ducked his head low in sorrow. The bard did not stir; he was not sleeping. Even when the spirit poked at him, he did not move.

Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

The boy did not crack his eyes open, because he was no longer with them.

A strange, brittle noise split the air. The spirit did not realise it was its own wails until the knight took it in hand and held it close. Why did it hurt so much? It was not injured, and yet it felt as if it had been torn apart by Decarabian himself.

In many ways, it had.

“I am sorry,” said the knight, whose remorse bled into his own voice. “Even my best was not enough to save him.”

But all the little spirit could do was blame itself. If it had not been separated, it thought, then could it have done something? It would have followed the bard to the end, but now, he had gone to the one place that the spirit could not follow. The caged songbird was dead, murdered in its search for freedom.

The eagle’s feather was nothing more than an empty promise, one that would never be fulfilled. As birds flitted their way across the unbound sky of Mondstadt, that was all the spirit could think.

~x~

“There were discussions, after, but I won’t bore you with the details. All you need to know is that Boreas chickened out of responsibility, so yours truly took up being the new Anemo Archon—and, well, that meant I got a whole lot of new powers too.”

Angel’s Share was near empty now, just Venti and Diluc left. Venti’s glass had been drained dry, and he was beginning to feel the buzz of it. Good. It was better that way.

Diluc took the glass and said, “Meaning you were a wind spirit no longer.”

“Well, yeah, and no. I’m still the wind spirit inside. If I dissolve this form, that’s what you’d see. Tiny little elf, that’s me.” Venti grinned and swung his legs off the stall. “But…I’m not gonna dissolve this form. Or change it. Because if I did, it’d hardly be honouring my friend now, would it?”

Diluc’s sigh was so heavy that even his shoulders deflated. “I had a feeling that might be the case. Still weighs on you even now, doesn’t it?”

Venti nodded. At least Diluc was clever enough to read between the lines. “I loved him. My friend, the bard—I did everything I could to honour him. He was a bard, so I learned how to sing. He wanted freedom, so I made that my core. He was Venti, so Venti was who I became—but the stories didn’t remember the name of the bard, so I decided to keep his memory alive like this. Barbatos is my true name, the name he gave me, but Venti is who I am when I want to live a little like he did. Free.”

“So, that new song tonight,” Diluc said, packing away the glass and the rest of the countertop. “What was that? An elegy for him?”

“An elegy? Nah. That’s more a lament for the dead, but this…well. I don’t wanna lament his life. There’s no point, he wouldn’t want it. I’d rather celebrate it instead. But everyone says it sounds sad. I guess my idea is different to everyone else's. huh?”

Diluc frowned. Times like this, he reminded Venti of the knight, with that stern expression. Maybe they were not so different, even with the thousands of years between them. “And what was the final verse again?”

Picking up his lyre once more, Venti let his fingers strum at it for the backing tune. Though the initial verses were indeed tragic, the final verses were not those of remorse or grief, but of the happiest ending he could come up with. Yes, his bard friend was long gone; nothing would bring him back, and yet Mondstadt stood tall and proud, free as it had been that day two thousand, six hundred years before.

But in his death, he found it

The freedom he’d so sought

To the heavens his soul flew on to

His struggles not for nought

So Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Of that boy, no name or stature,

Took on his journey bold

Diluc closed his eyes as Venti continued to play the lyre, even when the song was finished. Sometimes, music was soothing in its own way. It didn’t need a literal story; the notes told its own.

“Thanks for the story,” he said eventually. “But that song still sounds like an elegy. Anyway, don’t think of this as a pass to come drinking in here looking like that all the time. At least do it when it’s quiet.”

“Diluc!” Venti gasped. “Is that an invitation to come singing in here more often?”

“I have no idea how you managed to get that out of what I just said,” Diluc narrowed his eyes. “If you want to play here, I don’t care. It’s me getting a charge for serving a child that I have to be worried about.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen!” Venti hopped off the seat, hands on his hips as he stood proud. “You know who you’re talking to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Fortunately, yes,” Venti corrected. “And anyway, Jean would never let you be ruined for serving me, right? You’re fine. But…hey. Thanks for listening. Sometimes, it’s nice to tell the full story. Even if it hurts, it’s good to share it. Helps pass on the memory a little.”

Diluc nodded, answering only with a soft hum. Picking up the lyre, Venti continued to play it as Diluc finished his duties behind the counter, counting up his coin and clearing up the mess.

Until he snuffed out the final candle and the two departed, soft, dulcet tones rang out, telling a story all of its own.

#Genshin Impact #Venti #Diluc #Venti's friend #My Writing

11 notes · View notes

cosmic-navel-gazin · 4 years ago

Photo

This is something a bit different from me, but in light of the recent announcement from Ubisoft that there’s going to be a remake of Prince of Persia: Sands of Time coming out in January 2021, I thought I’d share some thoughts.

(This started out small but got outta hand so super long post incoming, no spoilers for the games)

So first off, a bit of my history with the original game.

I’m a big fan of the Prince of Persia (PoP) franchise, and I’ll fully admit that nostalgia plays a big part in it. You see, in many ways this 2003 classic was my real entryway drug into the world of videogames.

It wasn’t the first videogame I had ever played. My friends had consoles, there were some games on the school computers, but I didn’t own games as a kid. As far as my parents were concerned, these were all the spoils and soul damning devices of Lucifer himself. You know how it is, every generation goes through this thing of blaming all the world’s problems on a new artform: rock and roll, comic books and then videogames.

So yeah, a gaming console or buying games for the home computer was a BIG NO-NO!

But of course, the more an authority figure says you can’t have something, the more you want and crave it. It was only a matter of time until the opportunity presented itself to me.

And then the day finally came.

It was just me and a couple of friends, going to this new magazine store near the school. And there it was: the dvd case that came with a gaming mag for like 5 euros if I remember correctly, stupid cheap for such a great game.

There was doubt, there was fear, there was anxiety. I didn’t know much about the game, only the old 1989 DOS Prince of Persia:

This had the same name but looked different. I was seduced immediately.

The case stared longingly at me:

It’s not my fault, I was bewitched and I bought it.

My symbol of rebellion, my first big transgression, and my first real treasured posession that I bought with hard earned money.

PoP:The Sands of Time was my original sin so to say:

Accurate representation of what happened that day

I furiously installed the game as soon as my parents left the house. Played it for a couple of hours and stood in awe at the thing - the cinematics, the cool parkour moves, the arabian nights setting, the time manipulation to undo mistakes when platforming or in combat, the Prince breaking the fourth wall saying:”no no no, that’s not what happened, let me start over” whenever I died and got a game over…

You have not experienced true fear if at some point in your life you didn’t feel the cold sweat running down your back as you hear the very distinct sound of your parents’ car arriving when you’re doing something “prohibited”.

As soon as I heard that sound, I quickly quit the game, uninstaled it (I could not run the risk of them finding out I had tainted their machine with a videogame *gasp!*), and ran to my room to hide the game before opening the door for them.

Neetheless to say, I never made much progress since I had to start over every time after quitting and uninstalling the thing. I would just play those first couple of hours over and over, never knowing how the story progressed, but I was happy all the same. At one point I knew every line of dialogue, every music cue, every sound effect of that beginning part. It would be some years before I got my first laptop and finally managed to complete it.

All of this to say that the game means a lot to me. Not just as a product or piece of entertainment. This wasn’t casually playing on someone’s gameboy advance or PS2 to have a bit of fun and pass the time.

This was more intimate.

It was just me; the game; a dark room and a blanket; and a sincere and charming, simple but compelling story told seamlessly through mechanics that only enhanced it. This was me witnessing gameplay and storytelling going hand in hand in a way that even many of my other favourite games don’t do, or don’t do as well (there’s usually some disconnect where a game only manages to really excel at one but not the other).

Ok, so on the announcement and trailer:

youtube

As a big fan you might think I was super hyped for this.

But I gotta say…no, not really.

I’m not super angry, but I’m not really excited either honestly. And I don’t think it’s just the rough and uncanny character models and animation that people are pointing out all over (although that doesn’t help).

I guess to talk a bit on that, I should stress out that my problem isn’t that it doesn’t look realistic enough. To be honest, and this is going to sound rich from a big Witcher 3 fan, I think that the gaming industry overall, moreso big tripple A titles, seem to have this unhealthy obsession with photorealism. Like, I don’t need to see the characters’s pores to care about these polygon people. Strong art direction is what I feel is more valuable. I just don’t think this arms race to photorealism is sustainable. Games are taking longer to make and fund, and I’d rather have dev teams spend more time polishing and refining the games’ mechanics and/or story if the trade-off is less “realistic” graphics.

It might just be personal preference, but I wish we were getting more stylized character and world design. Go look at some screenshots for Pathologic 2, a game that came out last year that hits that sweet spot between full-blown cartoony/caricature and realistic by today’s standards:

And I think that is somewhat what they were going for with this remake’s character models (or I hope it was). But it’s still not quite there, hopefully they’ll work on improving those so they can hit that sweet spot also.

(in defense of my hipocrisy and love of The Witcher 3, I think the more realistic look was appropriate for the world they were portraying, it benefits from it. However I don’t think I would love it any less if it had less detailed models and environments)

One last thing on the graphics.

I will say this though, at least from the footage we see in the new trailer the team seems to be capitalizing on colour. Big vibrant reds, blues, whites and yellows in the environment look great, and really captures the 1.001 nights/arabian nights feel that I absolutely love. I appreciate that since there’s always this tendency for remakes to suck all the colour and life from the original (in both games and movies), regardless if it fits the setting and tone or not.

Anyway, I think the reason I’m very much without a big reaction is that I believe the 2003 original is a true classic, a masterpiece even - I guess I should stress out that when I say masterpiece, I don’t mean it’s perfect. Just that the whole is bigger and better than the sum of its parts, that the things it does right, it does so right, that it completely overshadows the flaws.

The story, the art direction, the gameplay (the holy trinity of platforming, combat and puzzle solving), the brilliant introduction of the dagger of time as a gameplay and story mechanic (one of my favourite mechanics in all of gaming), the music, the charming duo that is the Prince and Farah, the tight pacing with the game being just the right length and not overstaying its welcome, the outstanding level design where you’re never stuck doing one thing for too long (the game is always juggling between combat, story, platforming and puzzles, mixing and matching)…

Looking at all these things, I just really don’t think we need a remake because I don’t think there’s that many glaring terrible flaws that could justify it.

Adding more scenes and content could be good, or it might backfire: bloat and ruin the game’s already excelent pacing and fluidity (which I think is the main keyword that better describes the original, everything flows superbly). The original was only 6-8 hours long and it is better for it. I’m not confident that adding dozens of hours of gameplay like the big tittles today would help at all.

The only real improvements I can see are:

tweeking and perfecting the combat (I’ve seen it mentioned that they’re implementing a targeting system which sounds good);

perhaps also better Farah’s A.I during combat when you have to help protect her from swarms of enemies;

Maybe throw in a couple more enemy types? The cut sand tigers for example?

usual things like adding the option of subtitles, add the ability to skip cutescenes;

But other than that…

I don’t even think the graphics of the original look bad. They’ve aged of course, with the game being 17 years old, but still. I installed it last night and played through the first hour to take some screenshots and I think they’re still good:

I can understand the MediEvil remaster, the Spyro remaster or the more recent FFVII remake in terms of wanting to update the graphics. I can understand that not everyone can easily go back to these low poly lads:

But this game? I know I’m influenced by nostalgia and all, but I don’t think it needs that makeover that badly, especially when compared to these other remakes and remasters. Funnily enough, I just noticed that these examples I just listed were all PS1 games. PoP: SoT was a PS2 , PC and Xbox game. PS2 era games have aged far better visually and don’t need that big a makeover in my most humble opinion.

It would be one thing if the original was out of print like a Rule of Rose scenario ,where you can’t find the game unless you go to ebay or something and it’s stupid expensive. Or if it was a pain to get running on modern systems like it was with Grim Fandango, until it got a remaster.

But no, you can find the Sands of Time trilogy and the PoP (2008) reboot on GOG and Steam (on Steam only there’s also the PoP:The Forgotten Sands midquel). So there isn’t the usual problem of the game no longer being accessible to people who want to play it, which helps justify the need for a remake.

The original still plays nice, sounds nice and looks nice, so I guess this all goes to show that at the end of the day, this remake just feels a bit unnecessary to me, at least from what little the trailer showed (I would love to have my bitter cynical ass proved wrong though!).

Maybe I just have a superhuman tolerance for older games and how they look, I really don’t have that big a problem if the game itself is good or interesting, so I don’t always think older games need remakes.

Maybe my falling out of love with Ubisoft in this last decade has curbed forever any hype I might have for their announcements, even when they pull out my son, my baby boy Prince of Persia out again.

Maybe I’m just burnt out and too pessimistic about remakes, remasters and adaptations (although game remakes usually do better than film ones).

And this makes me a bit sad because I don’t want to sh*t all over the first piece of “new” Prince of Persia content we’ve had since 2010??? Oof, it’s been a while.

Especially knowing that Yuri Lowenthal is coming back and excited to voice the Prince again. And I also don’t want to be too harsh since we’re looking at an alpha of the game. But so far I’m just very numb to this, I do seriously hope it turns out good and that they don’t rush it out the door. But I’m not convinced we need a remake in the first place. The original is a milestone, a game changer. I’d rather see a game that had great ideas and poor execution being remade than something people already love and consider a masterpiece.

Guess we’ll see how I feel once more news and footage come out.

Oh and feel free to share your own thoughts on this remake. I’m curious to know what both fans and newcomers alike think.

small edit: I can’t believe I was just watching this Sands of Time playthrough on youtube and at one point it is said: “Another game that is designed similarly to this is Soul Reaver actually.”

Of course! I didn’t even see it! All of my favourite things are connected!!! Maybe that detail was another thing that helped me getting really into Soul Reaver as I was first playing it.

#prince of persia #prince of persia: the sands of time #prince of persia remake #ubisoft #videogames #my ramblings #I can't seem to write a short post to save my life!

22 notes · View notes

ladywinterwitch · 5 years ago

Text

Infamous Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sebastian Stan X Fan! Reader

Summary: You were convinced by your eight years old Brother to attend Wizard world con. He absolutely wanted to see his favourite hero, the winter soldier. During the photo op, you catch the hero's eye.

Warnings: Just fluff, it kinda turns into a social media AU at the end (but it’s not, it’s just texts)

Word Count: 2987

A/n: Y’all this is more like a fever dream than anything, but a girl can always dream ;) But one thing’s for sure: I have met him and I assure you he is that charming and sweet. So sweet.

(Gif not mine)

You yawned, then procedeed to shake your head a bit, squeezing your eyes to try and stay focused. You've been up til late to finish an assignment for college, even though you knew that the morning after you would've had to wake up early. Why? Your little devil (no, in reality he was a sweetheart, but you really wanted to hate him for this) of a Brother convinced you to take him to Wizard World Con after your parents said no.

-That’s totally your responsibility y/n. Try to take him home alive, will you?- those were the last words that your mother said to you before your departure.

So there you were, driving a two hours trip, sleep deprived and with the only thing that keeps you alive awake being a cold brew latte from Starbucks. But someone else, precisely an eight year old way too hyperactive, was definetely more awake than you. The only thing stopping you from getting Harry to actually drive in your place was that he doesn’t have a driver license.

-Swoooosh! y/n look out! Captain America's shield is coming your way!- Harry screamed too loud for your liking. You rolled your eyes, narrowing them a bit for the noise, but playing along anyway.

-Oh no, help me.- you responded with the tiniest bit of enthusiasm that you could find.

-Don't worry, the winter soldier will catch with his metal arm!- he made a noise that was supposed to resemble the metal impact -You're safe now. Thank Bucky now.- He shoved a little action figure in your face and you gave it a slap.

-Harry don't do stuff like that! I'm driving. And who the hell is Bucky?- you huffed and then asked. You really didn't want a car crash to happen, especially not for a damn toy.

-What? He's the winter soldier! Bucky Barnes. You don't know that?- he said shocked.

-You Always call him Winter Soldier, and I haven't seen the movies, so no, I didn't know.- you responded.

-Don't worry, I'll fix it. So, James Buchanan Barnes was born on march 10 1917..- he started to tell his whole story, comic and movies and lore, just to be sure to not miss anything.

You mentally cursed yourself for asking and just hoped that at least this actor is a good person, if he was a duchebag, you probably wouln't have responded to your actions. Not just because it would be a tremendous disappointment for your brother, but also because your gas, money, time and sleep would've been wasted.

Harry finished his storytelling, and you murmured a 'Thank God' and commented that it was very interesting. But, even if it was a neverending ramble, it had been actually quite interesting. You never saw the movies, but now, hearing all that story, you thought about how difficult it must have been to bring everything to the screen. Not just story-wise, but also emotionally. All the dark things that he'd gone through.

-We're here buddy.- you announced as you parked outside the building.

-Yeah!- he cheered and clapped. You both got out of the car and while you were walking towards the entrance you saw some people. Some of them were in costume and some weren’t, but everyone had their pass on.

-Shit, I almost forgot.- you muttered looking in your bag and pulling out two passes and your IDs. You passed one to Harry while you kept the documents, and he put it around his little neck.

-Okay, now let's go inside and take look at the schedule c’mon.- he nodded happily and you went inside. You found yourself in the lobby and saw a sign that gave directions to the various rooms. You took the main corridor and arrived in a big common lobby, where a lot more people and several booths were present.

You walked in between, looking around. Some of the booths were mainly selling nerdy stuff, some t- shirts, some art, and so on. Others, that were empty, had above them a large paper board with a collage of the actors faces and their names.

-How's Bucky called again?- you asked your little brother.

-Sebastian Stan.- he answered, then pointing somewhere on your left.

-There! That's his table.- he ran towards the booth and you sighed, following him. You looked at the board and kinda tought that maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad. There were different photos, with different haircuts, but his handsome face was still the same. Blue eyes, sharp features, pink lips and a smile to die for.

-Well, damn.- you whispered to yourself, feeling definetly more awake.

Then you looked at the day’s schedule and saw that his first panel was at ten am. It was now nine thirty, so you wouldn't have to wait too long. You decided to go take your seats in the hall, and on the way you saw a few very long queues and your heart dropped a bit. It was going to be a long day.

The panel began exactly at the indicated time, and when the host annouced Sebastian, everyone cheered, screamed and clapped. He entered the stage with his fist in the air and a big smile.

You weren't exactly in first line, but you were close enough to see his figure clearly. He had a light grey tee shirt under a darker grey jacket, black jeans and brown suede shoes. His brown hair were slicked back and quite short at the sides, he had a scruff that adorned his sharp face.

You felt your stomach flutter a bit. You had never seen a man that attractive before. Not in real life at least. You were definetly going to watch those blessed movies once you got home.

-Hey everyone! How're you doing? Good? Yeah lemme hear ya!- he exclaimed with a big grin, laughing when the crowd cheered louder. You smiled and whoed a little with your Brother.

The panel begun and as the questions went on, you found out a few things about him: He couldn't take a compliment if his life depended on it, he was really smart and thoughtful, he was a dork but the adorable kind, he liked 80's rock and Star Wars. At some point a fan was so nervous to ask him her question that someone screamed 'someone give her a hug' and by everyone's shock she did recive that hug from Sebastian himself. You were a few seats away from the mic and took that opportunity to take a better look at him.

He squeezed her in his arms even raising her from the ground, and when he walked away laughing she fell on the floor. Same girl, same you thought.

After that little interruption the panel ended smoothly. He thanked everyone and said that he would see them at the photo ops.

You and your brother walked out of the hall to buy a snack. On the way to the vending machine you couln't stop thinking about him. You were bewitched by his voice, his mind and his appearence. How come you never found out about him before today? Harry was always talking about that Winter Soldier, but you thought that his interpreter deserved the same, if not more attention. But he was a little boy passionate about superheroes, so it was normal for him to prefer the punch and adventure kinda guy than tha thoughtful one.

Sebastian had his first photo op session and after his autograph session at four pm, and honeslty you didn't know what to do until then. It was just midday. So you looked at the schedule and opted for another actor's panel that was at three pm, maybe getting out a little early to take place in the queue.

From one to three pm there had been a lunch pause for everyone, so you and Harry went outside to eat a burger at a near diner. To get away from the crowd for a bit, but also because the food inside was hella expensive.

You had enough time to do everything calmly and you even had a brief call with your mother to update her.

-So, how was he?- she asked with a little excitement.

-Honestly? Surprising.- you laughed a bit.

-As good or bad?-

-Good. Very good. He seems like a very genuine and sweet person. We just saw his interview though. Maybe up close he'll be an asshole. But I doubt. He seemed like a really down to earth guy.- you heard her giggle a bit.

-My daughter has a crush on the superhero uh?- you blushed.

-What? No, no. I don't even know him, mom.- you quickly responded.

-Hey, chill honey. I was just messing with you. But I wouldn't blame you. You know, I've seen those movies under your brother's torture, but those pretty blue eyes didn't escape me. Nor did his even prettier face.- your mouth was agape.

-Mom!- she just chuckled like a schoolgirl.

-Oh, let an old woman dream a bit y/n. - your smirked and rolled your eyes.

-You're not old. Your fifties seem thirties, mom.You’re doing good.- you heard her sigh.

-My babygirl, always speaking the truth.- you laughed, shaking your head.

-I'll hear you later mom.-

-Later honey! Kiss the pretty soldier for me!- you hang up, shaking your head again. She was shameless.

This other actor's panel was interesting but not as much as Sebastian's one. Or maybe it was because you couldn't really concentrate. In any case four pm came rather quickly and you went outside to queue, and boy, did you wanted to run away.

An enormus line of people was already there, waiting. You told your brother to stay in line while you tried to see where it began. The first girls were in front of a closed blue tent, a big large bodyguard in front of it. You sighed, defeated, and went back to Harry.

After a few minutes the queue started to move. You were just behind the middle, and almost felt sorry for the people in the back, but you wouldn't have moved for any reason in the world.

You played a little with a game on your phone, looked at the notifications, the news and even searched for the weather broadcast for the day after. It was supposed to be sunny, just like today.

Speaking of sun, you began to feel a little hot, so you took off your black leather jacket and were left with your pale pink short shirtdress. You really liked that dress because it reminded you a bit of the 50's. You loose braid fell from your shoulder on your back when you slipped off the jacket.

You looked at your brother that apparently was more social than you, because he had been able to found a few other children to play with. Then you gazed at the line and you were surprised when you saw that just a few more people were in front of you. With all the people in front of you you were honestly surprised that it took just twenty minutes, but on the other hand, it didn't take ages to take a photo either.

You put your phone away, not wanting to waste any more battery before you got to your hotel in the evening. A lttle past five it was your turn. The bodyguard checked your passes and got you in.

Your brother straight up ran to Sebastian, hugging his hips, his head barely reached his stomach.

-Hey bud! It's good to see you too. What's your name?- he chuckled squatting in front of him.

You remained in the corner watching. You didn’t buy a photo, so you weren’t supposed to appear. You had your arms crossed, your bag and jacket pressed on your chest. You grinned looking at the scene.

-Harry.- he answered proudly. Sebastian nodded, keeping his smile. Then he looked up, straight at you. His gaze locked on you. Your smile faded and a tremendous blush took place.

-And who's that, Harry?- he asked, a little smirk on his lips.

-That's my big sister y/n!- he exclaimed. Sebastian got up putting a hand on your brother's shoulder.

-Isn't your sister taking the photo?- his look never left your figure.

-Uh-Uhm...no, I just accompanied him.- you responded nervously with a gesture of your hand. He shook his head making a fake disappointed face.

-Nah, you're too pretty to not be included. What do you think pal?- your brother begged with a c'mon and you reclutantly gave up, passing your jacket and bag to the assistant with an apologetic smile. Then you walked to them and you were finally face to face with him. He was taller than you, your head reached his ear more or less.

-Hi.- you said, not really knowing what to do. He flashed a big grin.

-Hi to you.-

-Mr, there's still line outside.- the assistant said and you looked away embarassed.

-Yeah, sorry. Big smile.- Sebastian said, while he circled Harry, who was showing off his non existing muscles, with one hand, and the other was placed on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The little tug making you instictively place a hand on his chest. They were both smiling, so you did your best and gave the camera a small shy smile of your own.

-Done!- the photographer said. You moved and the assistant gave you your stuff.

-Thankyou.- you said to the handsome man. He winked.

-My pleasure.- after that you exited the tent in front of you. You brother went away jumping from the joy, while you stayed behind, walking slowly. You still didn't process what just happened. You touched unconsciously your side, where his hand was, smiling like an idiot.

You went to fetch the photo, and while Harry was basically flying with happiness, you couldn't stop yourself to look at how close he was holding you, your hand on his chest your rosy cheeks and his handsome grin. Your heart was about to burst.

The photo ops were over about half an hour later, and the authographs should’ve been starting in fifteen minutes. Your mind wasn't giving you a break. You kept repeating what happened in your head. At first you felt like a damn teenager in love, but then more bitter questions started to take place in your mind. Was he joking? Was he always this flirty with everyone? Was he even single in the first place? Was he just trying to get you to relax or was he hitting on you?

All these questions almost made you decide to not accompany your brother at the autograph booth. But then you just decided that you just couldn't do that, so you took a deep breath and went to queue. This time you arrived a little early, so you were on the first half thankfully. The wait was just about ten minutes.

You were next. Harry left to you the task to give him the photo to sign, just because you were taller and had better access to the table. You slipped the picture under his eyes and as soon as he recognized you, he looked up and smirked.

-Hey again.- he said with a suave tone, signing the photo. -Hey bud, are you having fun?- he asked and you looked at the little boy next to you with a smile.

-Yes! I'm your biggest fan! The winter soldier is my favourite character- he told him. You returned your gaze to Sebastian and he took the photo in his hand, passing it to you. A small smile on his lips while he watched you. You gave him a shy smile in return and felt yourself melting. You took the photo and thanked him again.

-Thank you bud. And thank you.- he spoke to you. You gave a small nod and went on.

After the autographs you went around a bit between the merchandise booths and ended up buying a winter soldier backpack for your Brother, then you went out to grab dinner. It was just six thirty, but you were both hungry. You eated then you sent a text to your mother saying that everything was okay. You didn't wanted to go into details.

Then you drove for a few minutes to the nice hotel you booked for the night. As soon you stepped into the room, Harry changed into his Avengers pajamas and started to watch tv.

You unpacked the only change you brought, then you wanted to put in the suitcase the documents,passes and the other stuff, but your eyes fell on the back of the photo. You took it into your hand and saw that a yellow sticky note was attached at the back.

Can't give u my number, but feel free to text me in instagram dms Seb ;)

You were shocked. Sebastian fucking Stan asked you to text him? You went into the bathroom with your phone, needing a moment to recompose yourself.

-Oh my God.- you did a face palm. Walking up and down the little bathroom, you nervously toyed with the phone in your hands.

What should I do? I mean the worst that can happen is that he'll not respond. But he should, 'cause he did write the note.Your mind was spinning. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

-Oh, fuck it.- you huffed and opened instagram. You had an account but had barely two posts. You weren't the type to post or stalk people, but you did follow a lot of pages with art, photography, music and movie stuff.

You searched his user and then tapped to the dm icon. His profile pic was a black and white photo

You wrote at least five different senteces, but then went for the simplest. Then you closed the app, blocked the screen and waited. You decided to refresh yourself in the meantime. You brushed your teeth and just when you were about to take off the make up on your eyes, a notification popped up.You took the phone and unblocked it with shaky hands.

You closed the app and went back to your room with a smile plastered on your face, and almost didn't notice that your brother had fallen asleep. You you covered him with the bed covers, turned the tv off and then changed into your pjs and went to bed. You couln't wait for Tomorrow.

So, first off, I feel the need to precise that OBVIOUSLY the chat is fake and photoshopped. It’s kind of obvious, but ya know not everyone has enough braincells I guess. Just to be sure. Anyways, hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought <3

70 notes · View notes

la-paritalienne · 5 years ago

Note

Eve!!!! Need your thoughts about Taylor's album!!!! 💓💓💓💓💓💓

i love getting asked :”(((((( :”))))))) thank uuuuuuuu. let’s get to it. as usual, it’s an almost-first impression (normally i write my basic thoughts during the first listen – yeah i’d started doing it before getting this, you know, just in case – and then i review them w a second one, where i also select my favourite passage). sooo, let’s go

♡♡♡♡

the 1 — such sweet yet heartbreaking lyrics... very soft sound, if it sets the mood for the album im 100 per cent in! This one didn’t stick w me after one listen, but after the second i was like wooow! I love how she says waking up alone ughhh. 8

fave lyrics: persist and resist the temptation to ask you / if one thing had been different / would everything be different today?

cardigan — !!!!!!! the sound has that bittersweet something that gets under your skin and makes you nostalgic for something you can’t even pinpoint. it reminds me of the softest lana, especially in nfr (eg bartender!!). i’m in awe. instant obsession!!!! the ending takes you to another plane of existence – ‘cause i knew everything when i was young... i knew you’d miss me... you’d come back to me. also i’m crying. 10+

[it’s hard to choose bc the whole song reads like poetry but i’m especially obsessed w] giving me your weekends; once in twenty lifetimes; tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy; you drew stars around my scars

the last great american dynasty — storytelling on pointttt and sound, too! telling the story of someone she bought her house from?? the genius jumped out. she paints it like a romantic portrait, mad woman pacing on the shore, but then also gatsbian, the crazy parties, dali... and then takes it back to today w the key lime green dog, idk, iconic. i want to know this woman. this song truly takes you somewhere else, i thought it was a bit repetitive but then the bridge came in and the final vocals plus i had a marvelous time ruining everything, i have to stan! 8+

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen / she had a marvelous time ruining everything

exile — ok wow, bon iver’s voice is something else!!!! i was kind of ignorant when it came to him, i admit. his depth and rasp paired with how angelic she sounds... heavenly. sound-wise, but also thematically, this vaguely reminds me of tomorrow never came w lana and sean ono lennon. (one of my fave songs of all time maybe?). the way they enunciate i think i’ve seen this film before is literally a work of art all in itself, not to mention – well i’m mentioning it bc it’s worth it! – the you never gave a warning sign vs the way she goes over it w i gave so many signs. god this makes me feel sooooo sad and like, involved. it’s so beautiful. 10

you’re not my homeland anymore / so what am i defending now?

my tears ricochet — ok wtfffff??? everything about this speaks to my soul. the airy voice, the way she sets the scene... sunlit room, the funeral metaphor, you turned into your worst fears. i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace speaks to me more than anything, but just, everything about the lyrics. truly something else, cursing my name / wishing i stayed gives me chills everytime she says it. the beat that gets more insistent towards the end, with the bridge....... the high notes that then fade..... just wow. 10

and i can go anywhere i want / anywhere i want, just not home / and you can aim for my heart, go for blood / but you would still miss me in your bones / and i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky / and when you can’t sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies

mirrorball — love the lyrics, maybe a bit less the sound? i mean i do love the sound, so far i’m loving how softly produced and coherent this album is, but this one i wouldn’t listen to on repeat and maybe there’s something a bit whiny that i don’t love. powerful meaning tho, and who’d use a mirrorball as a metaphor for feeling like you’re fragile, trying too hard to be a people-pleaser and no one sees the real you? 7

i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me

seven — ah........ i started crying as soon as this one started, pleeease picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven....... like ok there’s no need to go that hard??? it’s so dreamy and like... naïf? in a perfect way. the way she says i still got love for you...... and everything else... she mentions folk songs... the purest love described in the purest way. i don’t think i have enough words to descrive the way this song moves me. like i want to listen to it again and again, to be able to feel like that again, but also i’m almost scared to listen bc it touches me too deeply. i still will tho hehe. 10+ (also just realised this is track 7 ok makes sense but my mind is blown. 100)

[this is literally deeper than a shakespeare sonnet so everything literally is my fave but, having to choose] and i’ve been meaning to tell you / i think your house is haunted / your dad is always mad and that must be why / and i think you should come live with me / and we can be pirates / then you won’t have to cry / or hide in the closet / and just like a folk song / our love will be passed on

august — i love the contrast between the lighthearted, happy singing and guitars and the sad lyrics. the story it tells is so simple and yet there’s so much poetry in that... plus it reminds me of fearless or even speak now?? which are like. the taylor that gets to my heart, tbh. the bridge and the outro made the song for me. 8,5

for me, it was enough / to live for the hope of it all / canceled plans just in case you’d call

this is me trying — oh god... lyrically this song is so raw and honest, it gives me chills! i do have to say, i don’t love how she says i just wanted to know (like metrically?? idk, im weird) but these are really just small comments on amazing songs, bc i feel like all i’m saying is wow this is great, lyrics and sound, but it truly is a complete and consistent work of art, easily listened to top to bottom each time. 8-

they told me all of my cages were mental / so got wasted like all my potential / and my words shoot to kill when i’m mad / i have a lot of regrets about that

illicit affairs — ok this goes without saying but i love storyteller taylor, it’s the taylor i grew up loving and singing to in my room. the thing about most of these songs, this one included, is that they probably grow on you after a few listens, bc they’re not made to be catchy, the production and backgrounds are always very soft and some i love more than others. this one musically maybe isn’t my fave but the narration is on point, and the bridge?? the fuckkkk. plus it has one of mt favourite themes ever which is so rarely spoken about, which is the fact that language you only speak w a particular someone you love, makes you miss them even more when they’re gone. or well not exactly this but i can’t put it into words, she did tho. 8+

you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else / and you know damn well / for you, i would ruin myself / a million little times

invisible string — the color theme!!! the guitar strumming!!! and the idea of an invisible tie w someone special... i do think she outdid herself w this album. again, not my fave soundwise, maybe slightly whiny when she goes meEeeEee? but, lyrically adorable and moving. 7,5

one single thread of gold / tied me to you

mad woman — maam...... this is iconic shit........ how could she say stuff like this w such a dreamy, breathy voice. musically i get huuuge lana’a nfr vibes again (which i mean. goals) but i also adore that lyrically it’s so taylor, no one would say this shit the way she does. adore how she sings to wrap your news around and bonus for women like hunting witches too, i do love me a nod to the fact that some women are so deeply filled w machism that they’re basically men in disguise. 8,5

every time you call me crazy, i get more crazy / what about that? / and when you say i seem angry, i get more angry [isn’t this just womanhood condensed in a few lines]

epiphany — aw! it sounds like a lullaby, maybe it’s slightly ‘boring’ for my taste? meaning i get distracted which is surely a shame bc the words seem beautiful, but it’s so soft i just drift off? but reading the lyrics – for focus hehe – i’m moved. 7+

only twenty minutes to sleep / but you dream of some epiphany / just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you’ve seen

betty — okay byeeeeeeeeee. this is taylor at her finest! countryyyyyyyy, storytelling, lesbian jdjdfk no yeah I know I knowww, romance went sour. gut wrenching and beautiful, this feels like... watching a sad teen movie but w a sepia filter, idk. i dreamt of you all summer long oh my......... it’s like og taylor from her iconic first couple of albums came back but w all her baggage and growth and experience and better than ever. also why does taylor sing so wel about being in love w a woman????? well. 10+

betty, right now is the last time / i can dream about what happens when / you see my face again

peace — ..........yes yes yes. the high notes, the honesty, the syncopated parts where she says so much so quick and yet it still hits you. it’s not even a short song but it ends too soon, it goes by like that..... a poem. omg it just hit me this has flo vibes! especially from high as hope, for example grace or south london forever?? i mean... taylor doing alt folk country pop...... queen. give you my wild, give you a child?? ok ok. 10

all these people think love’s for show / but i would die for you in secret

hoax — weeeell the lana inspo jumped out w that piano!!!!! and like. mood. and lyrics...... this reminds me of wuthering heights or of lana’s tormented love stories (shades of blue.....). a powerful closer. poetry. 9

i am ash from your fire

♡♡♡♡

okkkkk this was a flattering review, very well deserved imo since the review is mine gjgjhkhk i agree w myself. thank you again and as i always say, feel free to come back w your comments! and have a great dayyyyy! much love

#taylor swift #folklore #also bonus points for the title #fave ever from her #10 #should i tag my reviews #(i think this has now become the tag)

9 notes · View notes