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namjoonchronicles · 4 years ago

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finer arts | th

↳ genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung ↳ words 4.6k ↳ summary inspired by the Baumgartner Restoration channel on Youtube, Taehyung is written as a fine art restorer. This fic centres on the point where arts and science collide. Also, long haired Taehyung. Unedited. :’) ↳ song miley cyrus ‘when i look at you’ slowed ver.

Very soft. Taehyung’s hair, at this length, had always been soft. It’s been awhile since he told you he wanted them to grow longer, and it’s finally paying off. He looks terribly soft with bangs going just a little over his brows and poking his eyes. Gathering his hair into one apple sprout and tying it up has always been your favourite way to start the day. He was humming Frank Sinatra's in the living room as it played on the bluetooth speaker when you found him. Always so hardworking. You leaned on your side by the wall, folding your arms and watching your husband pouting at the document he was reading as his head hung low. Big round glasses sliding down the slope of his Godly carved nose he learned to hate, growing up. Parker Fountain Pen in his slender fingers, cross crossing, underlining, circling the paper in a professional manner makes you remember why you had fallen for him. Slowly, but surely.

He lifts his eyes, noticing another presence in the room, and briefly smiles before returning to his writing pad again, greeting in a deep voice, “You’re awake?”

“Yes, I am…” you nodded, indulging the view still. When he starts to repeatedly push his hair away from his face, you take off your own hairband and have him sit down on the floor, with his back leaning against the couch. And you gather his hair with your finger raking the locks gently, tying an apple sprout hair. His eyes were glued on the work he brought home.

“I take it that you’re leaving home for the studio today?” you tipped his head back, chin pointed upward, demanding his attention. He chuckles through his nose as you leaned in for a chaste kiss on the lips, where his beauty mark is and then the tip of his nose and the skin between his brows. With the chuckles alone, you knew you were right. Judging from the wrinkles on his forehead when he crosses out the plans he had, you knew that he was handling a semi large painting.

Taehyung is a fine-art conservator-restorer and because of it, his work consumes him. He treats his client’s painting like his own wife; each with their own time, loving and care. Instead of being envious towards the time he puts in them, you weigh more on the term ‘admiration’, towards his work and dedication. He truly is invested in his line of profession. It was only natural for an art lover like him to eventually become an artist himself, but after some unfortunate series of art blocks, he began to turn to conservation midway through college. You were always supportive of his aspirations. Although you don’t share the same passion for arts to actually go to a college as an art major like him, he always says you should have been an artist rather than scientist when he saw you sketch a lion behind your notes, after being frustrated about writing papers on your research.

Ever since then, you and Taehyung shared an art studio at your shared home after marriage.

“Polyurethane,” he let out a deep sigh. One word is enough.

A big part about restoration and conservation is perfection. When the previous conservator uses polyurethane as varnish, the next restorer, in this case is Taehyung, will have endless scrapings to do. Polyurethane becomes embedded in the paint, which makes most restorers emotionally frustrated. This poorly chosen varnish not only becomes a part of the paint, it makes it difficult to remove because it is scraped along with the original paint by the painter and artist. This then, leads to more restoration work because the objective of a restorer, is to… restore. Using polyurethane just adds into the time working on it. The last time he dealt with polyurethane paintings, he went home with colors drained out from his face. He spent a week on them because he needs to be extra careful to get most of the polyurethane out with minimal damage on the painting.

After the scrapings, he will have to remove the paintings from the old plywood it came with and it was glued with rabbit-skin glue which is the most tedious process, one after the other.

“When it came to the studio, I was holding my breath because the state of it... was just,” Taehyung puffed his cheek and deflated it. Where does he even start? Dented surface, skewed plywood frames, rabbit skin glue, and polyurethane varnish. The owner’s cat sat on the painting. And this painting was already fragile at this time. It was a very old painting auctioned for at least a million dollar. Taehyung almost fainted.

Right. That was how he is. When Taehyung works on a painting, any painting for that matter, of any values of any age, he is consumed by it. Giving it his all, but careful not to leave traces of him as to respect the original painter.Taehyung, as an artist, is mind blowingly authentic. He has unique perceptions towards everything he sees and he was the first few artist you knew that began with taking photographs. Actually, he was the only artist you knew all your life that was intimate enough to have this talk. Back in the days, art students don’t really mingle with science nerds due to unforeseen differences seniors claim to have. You personally were told that art students are too superficial to really want to understand the world and that they see you as a fuss in human form. You believed none of that bullshit.

You have always been the kind to look deeper than what is on the surface, always skin deep. Taehyung noticed this from the first time he laid eyes on you. There was something worth uncovering.

Just like today, when your eyes tunnels into the magnifier to see the photographed version of the painting he was supposed to restore, he gets giddy at the fact that his wife, his forever girlfriend takes so much interest in so many things and is well-versed in all kinds of art despite not being a member of the field. It was at moments like these that he relentlessly wonders why you never considered to seriously take art degrees just like your science stuff.

“Looks flaky, and the dent is so deep…” you commented, craning your neck on his desk as he watches fondly from the side, “You’ll have to patch it up and sew it together…”

The smile melts away and he averted his eyes, tapping his index finger on his knee at the same time. By his demeanor alone, you know that he dislikes this. The work just keeps piling on, and more and more of the original paint is lost. Like a wet on wet painting work, that keeps bleeding color, the painting will have more of Taehyung than it would of its owner. Taehyung let out a sigh you understood so well. You leave the painting’s print on the table with the magnifying glass set away on the corner with the rest of his tools. You bring yourself next to him and put your arm around his neck and the other palm rests on one side of his face, sliding down his chiseled jaws and thumb, tracing his lips. His cologne swims around your nostril, and the smell of his hair that you love, engulfs you. He gathers his arms around your waist, rests his head under your chin and stays like that as long as you both need.

He will be away for long and intimacy of such degree would be difficult to execute. Long tiring week ahead will make you drift you both apart, only to hopefully meet each other like the first time again.

You remember the first time you laid your eyes on Kim Taehyung. He was helping the waitress picking the pieces of fallen tissues after a minor accident. He looked like he walked out of someone’s innate dream. Clean-shaven, dark brown comma hair, boring a dark brown suit and pants to match. The selfless act was something intriguing to you. It’s so rare to find someone who would take the time to help others in such a fast-paced era where everything has to be quick and perfect. You remember turning away and smiling to yourself, grateful that there’s such men still in the world. You never planned to find any attachments that night, it was just a casual formal gathering that you had to attend in order to remain in the social circle. You actually wanted to leave after thirty minutes, and probably watch a late night movie at a nearby movie theatre to appease yourself.

A drink in your hand, a small talk about how good the eclairs were, and a little bit about your short-term plans; apart from that, there was nothing much. You were never the kind to approach people first, finding more interest in the food than you do the people attending. But not your best friend, not Jimin. He is the loudest, most animatic figure out there, talking about all kinds of things, doing a lot of gags and just, a walking entertainment channel, with his addictive laughter and outgoing personality. Jimin would make friends with a broomstick if it attended. It was because of him that you were dragged into this little dinner party. He said if you come, he will join your presentation that he called boring and asked relevant questions. After careful consideration, and losing a couple of friends because of your hectic college schedule, you had no choice but adhere to his demands.

“Hi,” a succulent honeyed deep voice greeted you from behind, “Where did you get those jelly desserts?”

You glanced at him and when you recognised that he was that dude who helped the waitress, you shot your eyes back to your plate instantly, then jerked your head back up, “From the dessert corner, next to the pillar… I think they haven’t refilled them,” you said to him through a smile. Wow, he was so much taller than you expected. And, smells so nice.

“Oh thank you,” he tutted his tongue and nodded once, before he walked away grinning, “Over there right?” He walks sideways to talk to you still. He almost trips over the folded carpet and you got instantly worried before replying in a haste, “Yes! Oh careful, please!”

He gave an okay sign and puffed his cheeks.

Finding the back of your calves began to strain from the long period of standings, you had to find yourself a bar stool and ate your food alone, while Jimin was throwing his head back at a joke one of his new friends were telling. Someone took the empty seat next to you and sat with a huff.

“We already met twice and I still don’t know your name,” he peels his eyes off of his plate and turns sideways to you, “I’m Taehyung, Kim Taehyung.” You said your name in a hurry with an awkward giggle at the end, before poking your fork into the grapes and shoving them into your mouth.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked. “No, but he looks like he is having fun,” you didn’t specify who it was and Taehyung hung his head low with a dry, “Oh.” “You?” you replied. “Alone,” Taehyung said, “Didn’t plan to stay very long…I was going to catch a movie.”

Your eyes light up, “What movie? Because I’m not staying too!” Taehyung pouts, “Haven’t decided… I was going to decide there and then.”

“It’s nice to watch movies alone ha…” “Helps me recharge…” “What major are you? We’re from the same uni, correct?” “I am. I am an art major, and now more to restoration and conservator.” “Oooo, interesting… Meticulous work. That’s amazing.”

Taehyung then learns that you’re a science major, pharmaceutical technology. It sounded foreign to him, he had never known anyone with a science major, let alone talk to one. They always seem so…

“Fussy? Introverted? Closed up?” you listed. He shakes his head, jutting his lower lip out trying to think of a better adjective to describe, shooting his eyes to the ceiling then to the right. “Guarded,” Taehyung tipped his head to the side, looking at you as he spoke. “I get why we seemed that way,” you swirled your fork around the plate of spaghetti you took and nodded in agreement, “But we’re probably thinking about our gazillion unfinished reports and stressed out about why the results aren’t tally, and forgetting our breakfast, lunch and dinner, being high on caffeine…” you shrugged your shoulder, explaining.

“Doesn’t seem like a healthy way to live,” Taehyung commented, “But I understand the struggle.”

Discussing about the stereotypes, the polar opposites of a science versus art majors lasted longer than you expected. Art majors and science majors actually share more in common than you’d think. For starters, both are extremely meticulous and precise. Taehyung spoke about the specification of colours and blending of several techniques into one art requires an extensive studies of observations and practice. As a conservator, he must recognise personalized styles of close to thousands of painters to differentiate a genuine piece from a copy--a skill that would take years and decades to perfect.

For science, specifics come in the definition of science. There has to be hypotheses to be proven, and theories that aligned with the results. Making medication has several strict rules; and the process, the testing are endless. From the drug is being formulated, to the way it is processed, and how it reacts when it enters the human body, to how long it takes to be expelled and whatever happened in between must be noted. Uniformity, size particles, bottling, storage, etc. are all taken into custody when it comes to making drugs. You told Taehyung about the exhausting 48 sets of 100mL volumetric flask being used in order to determine the complete dissolution of 100mG of paracetamol.

“I get cross-eyed having to stare at the mark, trying not to make mistakes,” you smiled and Taehyung giggled. “I understand about getting cross-eyed,” he added. He continues about having to re-color a varnished painting with a limited set of light in the studio, and not being able to determine what pigment it was until daylight reveals that he was wrong.

“I think art and science are two things humans can’t live without,” you started, looking down at your semi empty plate, “I mean, life depends on science, but art is what makes it worth living.” “Rebecca Atwood,” Taehyung cited. Then you both looked at each other for what seemed the longest time, as if you both had found home in each other.

Your heart clearly whispered, “Where have you been all my life?” And for a period of time, you actually believed it was one-sided. How could someone like Taehyung want to spend time with you. But you guys eventually went to the movies together.

Jimin called midway through the movie. You excused yourself and took the call outside the hall.

“Yo, where art thou? The party’s over, don’t tell me you went home without me,” Jimin nags.

“I’m at the movies, I’ll get the Uber, don’t worry,” you hissed, “No, Jimin, I’m going to be fine. It’s not that late, I’ll call you when I get home. Yes, I know there’s class tomorrow at 2pm, alright bye,” you hang up and rush back inside.

Taehyung looks at you with wondering eyes and you felt inclined to explain, “Jimin. Asked me where I was, and wanted to go home. I said I’ll take the Uber.”

“Uber? No, I can drive you home,” Taehyung offered. You don’t think you should be in a car with someone you barely know so you politely declined. Taehyung however, waited with you for the Uber, and waved you goodbye. He didn’t ask for your number, much to your disappointment. But maybe it was a one night thing for him. It’s not like you expected anything, so why do you carry yourself heavily to your dorm?

It was rare to find someone you could connect to in such a short time. Tonight was a miracle at work, and it was short lifted. Laying down in your bed with the light from your phone shone over your face, you scrolled down Instagram to see your married highschool friend cradling babies. Another friend just got married. Another is half a world away. A few are taking pictures of cute dates they went on. And then there’s you, who is now staring at each one filled with envy and discontent, wondering if anyone will ever find the time to notice you and hopefully fall for you. Deep inside, all you ever wanted was to be in love. Despite you plunge yourself into heavy work in the most strenuous field out there, you were inexplicably lonely. It gets increasingly difficult as you grow older, and your options for men decreases.

They say, everyone has a soulmate. But for some reason, you think God forgot to make yours. Real connection is possibly impossible to find. The love you seek probably doesn’t exist.

And as you turn your phone face down next to you, it vibrated a message in.

Jimin: Are you home yet? Hello? Jimin: So you found Kim Taehyung? From arts? Jimin: He texted me the Uber car’s plate number to make sure I know where you are…

You replied,

You: yes.. You: you know taehyung??

Jimin: uh yeah. Orientation week together. Campmates. Jimin: how was it? You: he was nice… Jimin: You cold-blooded women. You: XD

The next day was your presentation. After spotting Jimin in the crowd, you immediately felt better. Some familiar faces would be nice. Final year project presentations can be brutal. Some of the questions you expected would be the purpose, the motive, the need for this project to be funded and why it carries such significance. Sometimes what you expect doesn't happen, and because of that you get very disheartened and disappointed. No matter how brave you decide to be, your body protests and rebels against your wishes. The way the bottle tremble in your hands shows how much this is hammering your dignity. It is as if you expected to be humiliated. You glanced down to your heavily arrowed notes and scribbles, closing your eyes as you stood in the back stage, mentally preparing yourself. How to be bulletproof?

Had he not helped the girl to purchase a canned coffee from the vending machine, he would not have been late, Taehyung thought. Now he creeps in the back of the lecture hall, carrying his own opened canned drink. There was an extra unopened canned coffee drink he snuck in. You had already started your presentations. Does he have the mental capacity for this new information? Of course. There were a few terms he wasn’t familiar with, but it was not enough to bore him. Your simpler explanation the night you met actually helped a lot. The oozing charisma you carry and the calm way you carry yourself was something worth looking up to. It was the kind that he actually envied about you. He had a feeling that you weren’t showing all parts of you and because of that, he was intrigued. Even as he sat there as an audience, completely at awe of your presentation, you were magnetic.

Not a single one person in that auditorium was paying their attention elsewhere. Being able to draw such dedication and passion is a talent. And it was all Kim Taehyung wished he could do.

“With all the existing medication with the same purpose, what good would a research in the same area pose? A renewal?” “And what about the gene-specific cancer studies that are already initiated since 2004? Haven’t we spent enough on that?” “What about the ethical issues surrounding the existing CRISPR, the so-called genetic-specific medications?”

The questions from the PhD holders you presented were all valid. You agreed.

“As a scientist, we understand that our research will continue far after our death. Many researches are done without a clear view of where the finish line is. If we want to talk about ethical issues regarding gene modifications, we have done them on all the things we could consume, grow and breed. If we have the power to prevent abnormality before it becomes one, why do we second guess ourselves? Isn’t the purpose of science to better understand, and then to prevent? To create a better living?”

The room fell into a deathly silence, and you were inclined to go back to your statements but when you dragged your eyes to the corner of the room, you saw some juniors nodding in agreement to what you’ve just said, you regained a little ounce of confidence. “But we haven’t truly understood the after effects of gene modifications. And through all prolonged research thus far, it doesn’t suggest a good result. How do you guarantee a perceptible study in the development of the medication you’re proposing?”

. . . Sniffles greeted Taehyung at the door he pushed opened gently. You were standing by the handrails on the faculty’s rooftop, the papers you brought in scattered around the ground. Some are drained into the pool of water puddle from last night’s rain. Digging the heels of your palm into your eyes, you heard the door creaked open and jumped.

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then turned away. Not because of anger or fear, but from shame. You have never shown anyone this timid side of you. You’re always expected to be strong, and you took that mask on literally. Having someone witnessing your vulnerability is as foreign as the sight of a shooting star. How unlucky for Taehyung, you thought.

“I bought you…” he placed the canned drink on the ground, next to where you placed your backpack, “A canned coffee.”

“How did you,” you sniffed, “How did you know that the presentations’ today?” “You told me the night we met?” he answered, in a confused tone.

And you gave him a lopsided smile, “Oh right. I’m not used to people remembering my errands. Jimin never does. No one ever does.”

“I am not actually good at remembering. But for some reason, yours was unforgettable,” he added an awkward chuckle at the end, scratching the back of his head not sure why he finds conversation with you feel homey. Sincerity and honesty comes naturally like breathing the air in.

“I did a crap job at presenting, didn’t I?” it was a statement, pretentiously laid out as a question.

But Taehyung knew better than to cement the depressive thought. Then he scooted near to you, and coil to your side, to give you a puppy eyed bright smile.

That was when you first knew a Kim Taehyung. Everything else that happened after that seemed like a story written just for you. But loving Kim Taehyung didn’t come without challenges. When you love a man as attractive as that, there will be wandering eyes directed towards him. And you have your own fair share of evil eyes directed at you. How can a science nerd catch the attention of an art student? It was totally unheard off. Had Taehyung paid any attention to those thirsty hyenas, you would have given up the fight. However, this is Taehyung you’re talking about. Once he had his eyes set to a person, he developed tunnel vision only to that person.

For years, you struggled with perfection. And the thing about the struggle is that it was common to everyone, but so few would understand. Perfection quickly becomes a disease to over-achievers. Had it not been Taehyung, you would probably engage in an insufferable discontentment towards life and everything it has to offer. Everything changed when he handed you a paint brush and a 200-sized plain white canvas and a studio to yourself.

You felt liberated.

Not knowing where your illustrations will take you was the first taste of freedom you had ever allowed yourself to feel. Because in the arts, there are no wrongs or rights. And it's uniquely yours. And the look on Taehyung’s face when it's done? Priceless. To the point that you think you began drawing because of him and that he was just saying the things you wanted to hear. Then he hangs your drawings in the open hall, and brings home the comments written by the art lovers to prove that you are wrong.

When it comes to relationship turbulences, Taehyung and you personally respect each other’s space, friendship choices and principles. Such maturity is again rare so you’d like to think that you’re lucky in that sense. However, Taehyung’s family proved to be a massive hurdle. While you were raised in a humble home, and accustomed to having sleep as dinners, Taehyung’s family owns a collection of farms that produces vegetables and fruits, and Taehyung’s favourites happen to be strawberries. He surely is raised in an upper middle class well into his elementary years and then catapulted into first class around his high school time. Not to say that he doesn’t know what it’s like to starve, he has a fairshare of that in his rebellious years; but he was not used to the life you lead. The part-time jobs, the tutoring weekends, the errands. He never had to do those.

When he brought you home to his parents for the first time, you felt out of place. His penthouse, his army of maids, sports cars and spacious area. His parents, they were wonderful. They welcomed you with open arms. Even inviting you to a family-only event, introducing you to everyone, and then letting you see their family photo albums. Taehyung has a massive support system, a healthy relationship compared to yours. No matter how much he wants to convince you that his life isn’t perfect, it was a whole lot better than yours. You remember how he snuck you into his bedroom in the middle of the night when his parents were asleep, the snickering, the whispers and the night you shared, cuddling. You had tears in your eyes that night, because you never thought you’d be this fortunate.

Watching him fall asleep in your lap so soundly really made you think about the last time you ever made someone this comfortable. Is this how it feels to love and cherish? Finding a middle ground is not always easy, and most people take time to reach there. For Taehyung and you, sacrificing a lot comes without say. Your internal conflicts and his willingness to understand your perspective, and vice versa--it all takes time. You can owe it all to Taehyung’s ultimate patience. Just like the way he handles his work. Meticulously, and carefully. Like how chemicals are precise, the paints are too.

In every phase of life, we are being prepared for the phase that comes next. In accordance to what we are made of, we continue to evolve, continue to grow. And it is in this stage that we feel most vulnerable, most bare, most uncomfortable. Sometimes you dread the things that you weren’t allowed to have, much like the doctorate you sought after (that took much longer than others), the way it was withheld from you because life said you weren’t ready yet, even when you thought you were. Waiting patiently becomes the hardest part of it all. Although Taehyung might not understand half the things you went through, isn't he still here? Isn’t he still holding your hand? Isn’t he still singing to you?

Fine arts are creative art, especially visual art whose products are to be appreciated primarily or solely for their imaginative, aesthetic, or intellectual content. If that’s the case, then Taehyung must be finer arts.

:. I wrote a bit about the things I do in university, I’m sorry if you find that boring... it’s the only world I know... I am currently going through mid-semester exams, and I’m not doing well, spark up a fever with 3 more papers to go. Anyways. Have a great day!

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bookcoversalt · 5 years ago

Note

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery.

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”.

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold.

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?):

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries. (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular.

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)

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paladin-lynx · 4 years ago

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SquipJere Week 2020, Day 1: Retro

@squipjerebmc’s SquipJere Week 2020 Day 1: Retro

Ships Involved: The SQUIP x Jeremy Heere (Technical Difficulties/Squipemy/Squeremy/JereSquip/SquipJere)

Setting: Canonverse, set in the time interval between “Loser Geek Whatever” and “Halloween”.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Non-graphic mentions of masturbation; electric shocks

Author’s Notes: Happy SquipJere Week! I meant to get these done like a month ago so I could pre-plan and not rush, but my writing motivation has been kinda low lately. But I’m still gonna try my best to get a piece out for each day! Some of these might be loosely connected – I haven’t decided yet. But I hope you enjoy!

Sometimes, teenage boys needed an escape from the crazy, loud world around them.

Jeremiah Heere had always had three main methods of just forgetting about his problems for a little while: jerking off, talking to Michael, or playing video games.

But considering with the introduction of a supercomputer into his brain the first two options weren’t actually options anymore, he had to settle for the third.

It wasn’t like Jeremy had any shortage of games to play, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t play them without a Player Two – although normally he was the Player Two. But there was definitely something bittersweet about not being able to call up his long-time friend and lose themselves together in the mindless images on the TV screen.

But it was for the best, Jeremy reminded himself. When he reunited with Michael, he’d be better. He’d be cooler. And he could potentially help his friend move up from just being the weirdo loser headphones kid at school. But for now, he needed to break the chains in order to upgrade.

So for now, to try and stave off the nerves that often decided to just rise up out of nowhere – honestly, why was the human brain so stupid sometimes? Jeremy could see why his SQUIP often got frustrated with him – he flopped back onto his bed and booted up his trusty old Game Boy Color. He was still surprised it had survived this long, but unlike other things in his life, Jeremy was actually quite careful when it came to tending to his video games and their respective consoles. Maybe he’d only started being so careful after an unfortunate accident involving a slushie and Michael’s Dreamcast, but even so – now he was careful.

He quickly forgot that anything outside of his game existed, eyes glued to the screen as he tapped away at the controls. All was peaceful for a good while before he felt a familiar buzz at the back of his head and a certain Keanu Reeves lookalike appeared standing over him, frowning thoughtfully.

“Out of all of your video game systems, you chose to play that one?”

Jeremy’s gaze swiveled over to the SQUIP. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s so…” The SQUIP hummed, and Jeremy could all but feel it searching for the right word to use. “…retro.”

“…Is that a bad thing?”

The SQUIP tutted at him. “Technology evolves so quickly nowadays. You may be looked down upon if you don’t keep up with it, or if you are still attached to the older, menial versions of things.”

Jeremy’s brow furrowed. “…Is that part of why Mic—” He caught himself. He wasn’t supposed to bring a certain someone up. “…uh, why people think I’m so weird?”

“A small part.” The SQUIP offered him a sympathetic smile, although Jeremy was pretty sure the look in the SQUIP’s eyes was more amused than anything else. “You do get quite a few of your odder interests from Michael. It’s another reason why we needed to get you away from him. We’re modernizing everything about you, from your fashion sense to your hobbies.”

Jeremy sat up more on the bed, setting the Game Boy aside for the time being. As argumentative as he could sometimes be with his SQUIP, he was nothing if not eager to learn and improve. It was why he asked so many questions. “But even Rich plays video games, and he’s considered cool.”

“Ah.” The SQUIP raised a finger. “But he plays recent games. I don’t believe Rich will use a system if it is more than a few years old, and he invests his money to buy new consoles as soon as they come out. Of course, he prefers ‘more mature’ systems like the Xbox, but that’s personal preference. You having an affinity for Nintendo is harmless, but it would be better for you to pick, say, the Switch over…” He waved over at the Game Boy with a slight grimace. “…that.”

Jeremy frowned, peeking down at his innocent Game Boy before looking up at the SQUIP again. “But…does it matter if I’m only playing the older stuff by myself? It isn’t like anyone will know.”

The SQUIP shook its head. “Everything you do, whether alone or with company, will somehow reflect back on you. Besides, if you have a girl in here one day, what would she think? What if Brooke ends up coming over?”

“I don’t think Brooke would care…”

The SQUIP sighed, pinching the bridge of its nose. “You’re awfully intent on this, dear. These ‘retro’ pastimes of yours are still a consequence of your proximity to Michael. If you’re truly cutting him out, then you have to give up these things, too.”

Jeremy’s cheeks warmed indignantly. “I like them for myself, not just because of him!”

The SQUIP huffed, turning its gaze unto the Game Boy, looking down at it as if it were a bug it was getting ready to squish under its sleek digitized boots. “I don’t see the appeal in such outdated hardware.”

Jeremy picked up the Game Boy and held it against his chest like he was trying to protect it from the SQUIP’s scrutiny. “Clearly you understand some appeal to older things, considering that when I first got you, you looked like Keanu from Bill & Ted.”

The SQUIP narrowed its eyes. “Only my face. The rest of me was more advanced. I tailored my aesthetics so that I’d look like someone you’d pay attention to. Someone you’d find intriguing.” It smirked slightly. “Dare I say, attractive.”

Jeremy’s face warmed again and he sputtered for a moment. “M-my point is that just because I like vintage stuff in the comfort of my own home doesn’t mean I can’t be cool!”

“I’ll say again, I can’t comprehend your attachment to such old technology. The games from those consoles absolutely pale in comparison to anything made now.”

Jeremy shrugged. “It isn’t necessarily about them being good. It’s the nostalgia of it. AotD has been out for years but w—I never get tired of it.”

The SQUIP hummed, once again looking at the Game Boy now pressed against Jeremy’s chest. “What is it that you’re even playing?” Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, but the SQUIP rolled its eyes before he could even say anything. “Hamtaro, Jeremy? Really?”

“Oh, shove off! I told you, it’s for the nostalgia!” Jeremy defended. He realized he’d raised his voice and braced himself for a shock, but all he got was a tingle of static rushing down his spine, making him shiver and blush again. He lay back down, electing to ignore his SQUIP and return to his game of, yes, Hamtaro.

He could still see the SQUIP’s tall frame out of the corner of his eye, watching, tilting its head to the side in that almost endearing way that meant it was analyzing something. But when it didn’t do anything else, Jeremy just focused on the screen before him, clicking at the controls once more.

“Up up down down left right A.”

Jeremy yipped softly as pain flared in the back of his head and he moved one hand to immediately clutch at the tender spot. He looked over to the SQUIP with wide eyes, about to demand what the hell it was doing, only to blink when he realized it was no longer standing there.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, brow creasing before he slowly turned back to his Game Boy. However, as he pressed one of the buttons, the screen fizzled and the handheld became dangerously hot in his hands, making him gasp and drop it onto the covers beneath him. “Oh God, what did you do?”

Finally, though, the screen returned, except instead of the white-and-orange sprite for Hamtaro, instead the screen was taken over by a different pixelated hamster. This one was jet black save for the white on its muzzle, paws, tail, and tips of its ears, and its eyes were a striking, very familiar bright blue. Jeremy blinked, slowly picking up the Game Boy again and staring at the screen as the black hamster blinked a few times and looked around itself in confusion before it suddenly appeared very disgruntled.

“This is not what I intended to happen,” a text box appeared as the hamster peered up at Jeremy with those big blue eyes. Jeremy’s own widened.

“SQUIP?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wh—How did you—” Jeremy stumbled over his own words, staring at the sprite. “You’re a Ham-Ham.”

The hamster scowled at him – or at least, Jeremy assumed it was a scowl. It only had so many bits to work with to get its point across. “I suppose I am. I can still shock you, so speak carefully, love.”

Jeremy couldn’t help cracking a tiny smile, shaking his head and leaning back as he continued to watch the SQUIP’s new form. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

The SQUIP gave a shrug, front paws raising in emphasis. “I was trying to better understand your interest in the Game Boy Color. As well as in this game. I suppose I h—”

The text cut out there and Jeremy could all but feel the SQUIP sighing as it waited for Jeremy to finish reading before it deleted the text and continued: “I suppose I had a miscalculation about what would happen when I synced with it.”

Jeremy laughed. “I think this old-school tech is trying to spite you for insulting it.” He grinned. “You look kinda cute like that. And if you’re still in my head, can’t you, y’know, just talk to me there instead of through text boxes?”

The hamster blinked, and it was obvious the SQUIP had been so busy processing the change that it hadn’t considered that as an option, but before Jeremy could poke more fun, he felt another fizzle at the back of his head. The Game Boy’s screen had another freak-out before the game returned to normal with Hamtaro once again in his proper place within the game. Soon enough, the SQUIP reappeared beside the bed, brushing off its clothes as if it had just walked through a hall of cobwebs.

“Have a fun trip?” Jeremy teased, not even minding the warning static on his back.

The SQUIP rolled its eyes, crossing its arms. “I suppose the console is…endearingly antiquated.”

“Yeah, see? That’s the whole point of having vintage stuff!” Jeremy smiled and returned to his game, already missing the black-and-white sprite that had previously been there, as much as he adored the irreplaceable Hamtaro. “Could you change your form to look like a hamster? You really did look cute.”

The SQUIP sighed, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed and watch Jeremy play with almost timid curiosity. “…Perhaps I’ll consider it, if you behave.”

#SquipJere Week 2020 #lynx tales #mine #writing #Be More Chill #BMC Jeremy Heere #BMC SQUIP #Squipemy #Squeremy #Technical Difficulties #JereSquip #SquipJere #Jeremy Heere #SQUIP #my brother had a Game Boy Color and we got the Hamtaro game for it so that's why I thought of this lol #BMC #fic #fanfiction #i don't have a fancy queue tag

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sepublic · 5 years ago

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Rhotuka

Studies into transmitting the power of the soul itself –initially by harnessing Kraata power with the Exo-Toa- eventually delved into the concept of sentience, as well as sapience. Individuality, personhood, the nature of the metaphorical soul came into question and how it was structured; After all, before Kratakal’s arrival on Xia, few scientists believed in the soul having an actual existence.

But with his appearance and the knowledge he offered, combined with studies on recreating the sapient mind with AI… Eventually Xian scientists asked if it was possible to harness the power of the mind itself. In particular, the Nynrah Ghosts took towards exploring what made a person, well, a person- And not just a person, but their own unique individual as well.

Mind was a result and/or aspect of a sapient soul, and generally speaking, souls with more energy tended to develop higher levels of thought; Spiriah’s experiments, as well as his experiments on beings such as the Dark Hunter Charger, proved this concept. The Nynrah Ghosts developed increasingly complex AI, as well as Exo-Toa technology designed to further access the mind itself. Combined with a few Viruses, and the Rhotuka launcher was finally invented; An incredible piece of technology that had the ability to almost subconsciously analyze a mind and react specifically towards the unique things, wavelengths, and patterns that made up someone’s personality, manifesting it as an energy-wheel with an unusual property.

Rhotuka are wheels of energy that can be conjured through the use of a Rhotuka Launcher, an artificial creation of the Nynrah Ghosts. The exact effects and properties of a Rhotuka vary by individual (and some species), but generally speaking they are first charged up within the launcher as it gathers energy, spinning it into a wheel before finally releasing it. The wheel then whirls through the air until it reaches a target, before transmitting its effects.

The power of a Rhotuka depends on the personality of the user; For example, one individual may have a Rhotuka that spreads out into multiple explosions, while another being will have a Rhotuka that melts through all matter with a corrosive, acid-like property. A Rhotuka could switch the minds of the user and the target, or it could transmute matter itself.

The exact ability of a Rhotuka is a direct reflection of the individual user’s soul, personality, and experiences. It is the very culmination of who they are (or at least a partof that identity), manifested in the form of an energy-wheel whose powers and properties are symbolically tied to the user. The exact nature between how a Rhotuka is influenced is not entirely understood; When creating the Rhotuka Launcher, the Nynrah Ghosts delved into a field of forces and study that they themselves did not quite understand- They could merely only interact with it, the same way a bird may use the wind to keep itself in the air without truly knowing how air itself functions.

With very few exceptions, just about every sapient individual’s Rhotuka is unique in some shape or form. Unless two people have two incredibly identical experiences and personalities, the likelihood of two Rhotuka being the same is extremely scarce. However, when it comes to sentient creatures of some thought –such as certain species of intelligent animal- it seems that a single species will tend to produce the same Rhotuka effect throughout all members. Again, occasional exceptions amongst animal species occurs, but generally speaking, it seems that all members of an intelligent animal species yield the same Rhotuka; But as sapience increases with a species –particularly with Xians- the Energy-Wheels’ variety exponentially branches out.

Rhotuka Launchers can come in a wide variety of shapes, with some being attached as large tools to a user, and others directly grafted into their very being. All Rhotuka interact with the nature of the soul itself, using technology not dissimilar to what one may find in an Exo-Toa. Thus, cheaper models tend to require direct attachment to a user, while the most expensive consist of gauntlets that can easily be donned and removed at will.

Any sapient being can and will produce a Rhotuka. When it comes to animals, as aforementioned, only species of a certain intelligence threshold can yield the power of a Rhotuka, incorporating a grafted launcher into their body like any other limb given enough time and opportunity. Since AI lack souls, they themselves cannot manifest Rhotuka; Likewise, Kraata are of a very basic mindset, and their Rhotuka have the same powers as them, making a Rhotuka Launcher for a Kraata a general waste of an asset.

Whether or not a being can use Rhotuka is a suggested litmust test for intelligence amongst living things, but the Nynrah Ghosts are not entirely certain if they should accept such a standard into practice. After all, there are multiple forms of intelligence, and it is possible that their imperfect Rhotuka launchers can’t quite adequately recognize all forms of thought; The Nynrah Ghosts themselves are not 100% sure on what constitutes intelligence, much less the exact nature of Rhotuka and how they are influenced by a user. For now, further research is being developed into the matter of Rhotuka.

As for Rhotuka Launchers themselves, their hyper-specific programming and properties make them incredibly expensive, moreso than an Exo-Toa, and thus they are not exactly conducive for mass production. Due to the complicated programming involved, Rhotuka launchers are manufactured exclusively in Artidax. The existence of one is found only very sporadically across Xia. Thus, not many Xians are well-aware of or familiar with Rhotuka; Especially since the powers of a Rhotuka are so individualized, thus making them somewhat reliable in certain regards. Demand for Rhotuka Launchers is typically low.

However, amongst those who DO utilize and recognize their power, interest is had towards certain individuals. As mentioned before, the exact powers of a Rhotuka are unique to a user, and thus cannot be replicated as they are dependent on the very personality and experiences of an individual. To recreate a useful Rhotuka power would involve recreating the exact same person; Itself an incredibly impossible task.

Thus, there is a black-market for beings who exhibit useful and valuable Rhotuka abilities. A few trafficking groups have set up a program where people who are kidnapped are regularly screened through a Rhotuka launcher to see what they are capable of; If they have a useful ability that could garner plenty of profit, then the individual will be advertised and sold to groups who have a desire for that particular ability. The Dark Hunters in particular are very interested in this ‘Rhotuka Market’, looking for specific powers, or seeking to replicate them; Either by seeing how to duplicate a mind entirely (possibly through complex AI scans within Artidax), or simply by just kidnapping the individual that the power is unique to and forcing them into servitude.

Thus, beings with valuable Rhotuka powers have high demand on the human trafficking market. Some people will be targeted and hunted down specifically if they are suspected of having a potentially valuable Rhotuka; Others with confirmed, useful abilities often find themselves bullied or blackmailed into servitude by certain organizations. Some groups will offer pay, but others will get impatient and soon resort to outright kidnapping. Brainwashing an individual into joining a group is risky, as the dramatic change in personality can change the Rhotuka they have.

Due to the complex nature of personhood, little time and effort has been invested into figuring out the full nature of Rhotuka. Nevertheless, some psychologists have been hired to analyze trends and correlations between Rhotuka abilities and personality traits, with some organizations –such as the Nynrah Ghosts or Dark Hunters- interested in utilizing brainwashing technology, in the hopes of changing a subject’s personality to the exact one needed to unlock the Rhotuka power they are looking for. Complex simulations and mind-altering technologies in Artidax are frequently patched and updated, and discussion is made on ‘manufacturing’ a personality by raising a person entirely through simulations, all for the purpose of creating someone so identical to another individual that they have the same, or at least a similar, Rhotuka.

The following is a list of individuals and their unique Rhotuka abilities;

Roodaka- Reconstitutes and drastically mutates a target permanently into an entirely different creature. The victim’s new form is completely random, and can either be useful or debilitating. Some mutated bodies are non-conducive towards an environment, or living in general, thus killing off a victim in addition to physical trauma from the transformation. It is possible that a target’s specific mutation is unique to them, similar to one’s own Rhotuka ability; However, Roodaka is skeptical of this idea.

Sidorak- Makes targets incredibly loyal to Sidorak, as a manifestation of his leadership skills and natural charisma. Victims will obey any and all commands by Sidorak for a few hours, before the effect eventually wears off.

The Shadowed One- Victims are subject to madness in the form of a mental illness, whose symptoms are dialed up to an exaggerated, debilitating degree; Examples include depression, schizophrenia, OCD, bipolar disorder, etc. The effects will eventually dissipate, but trauma from the horrific effects tends to inevitably linger afterwards.

Ancient- All physical coordination of a target is completely scrambled; For example, if a victim attempted to move their arm, their neck may begin moving instead. The effects will eventually wear off after a while.

Amphibax- Renders all water within an approximately mile-wide radius unable to support the buoyancy of any thing; Anything in water affected by her Rhotuka lose their ability to float and will begin sinking unless deliberate swimming attempts are made. Additionally, Amphibax can charge and spin her Rhotuka within her launcher, which can turn the affected water it touches into a devastating whirlpool. The effects wear off after a few hours.

Airwatcher- Solid material becomes soft, malleable, and incredibly sticky like chewing gum, with most things that come into contact with the affected matter sinking into it like quicksand. Objects affected by Airwatcher’s Rhotuka can still be torn apart in this state, but the incredibly sticky, clinging properties makes such things difficult to handle. The effects wear off after a few hours.

Spinner- Targets lose all sense of balance and begin stumbling about; The effects wear off after a few hours.

Guardian- Transmutes all non-gaseous matter it passes through/impacts against into a fragile glass.

Kahgarak- Creates a temporary opening into the mysterious dimensional plane known as the ‘Zone of Darkness’

Visorak Spiders- Paralyzes victims by interfering with their nervous system, collapsing and numbing a target as their bodies become unresponsive to the brain’s signals; Certain organ systems, such as the respiratory or circulatory system, remain somewhat active to prevent a target from dying. The effects wear off after a few hours. Other, alternative abilities are also present, but less frequently utilized.

Gatherer- The memories of a target are scrambled as they interfere with the victim, randomly trapping them within various past experiences with only a dim, dream-like awareness of what is going on.

Sentrakh- Renders targets intangible for several minutes before the effect wears off; People and creatures affected can somewhat float around in this intangible state.

Tracker- Absorbs an object with a ‘trace’ of a target’s life energy and begins replicating the exact movements of that target’s soul within real-time, from the moment of the absorbed object’s separation from the person in question.

#bionicle #bionicle rae #rhotuka #nynrah ghosts #xia #dark hunters #roodaka #sidorak

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h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e · 5 years ago

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Stains on the Memory [B. Hargrove x you]

Request: @awildkaitlynhasappeared

Inspiration: Disintegration by The Cure

Word Count: 2421 Warnings: profanity and angst.

Written Date: 8/6-24/2019 Posted Date: 8/24/2019

The new Lego set includes too many pieces to count and a manual too difficult for the four-year-old to read. The pictured King’s Castle on the box brings wonder, but not enough for the stubborn boy to stick to the instructions or ask for help. Either way, blocks lock on together by able hands and his imagination runs far too wild to be tamed by boring words and numbers.

It wasn’t playful excitement that had him push past his dad and run past you, with your hands on your hips as your eyes flew from him to Billy, but rather a desperate eagerness to escape what is now taking place on the other side of his bedroom door.

“You forgot Jason in your car for two hours!”

Your muffled words pierce through Jason’s crayola-scribbled bedroom door. That tone in your voice is always reserved just for his father; it’s never been directed at your son even when he’s worn your patience thin by throwing a tantrum when Looney Tunes hadn’t been on TV while your feet were sore from wearing pumps at work all day.

Jason knows that this is only the beginning of an endless night.

The wires in his brain steer him to focus on the Legos he had been begging his parents to buy ever since he’d first seen the commercial on television. He’d asked and asked and asked but the answer was always a prolonged no.

There were far too many excuses his parents would give him that it was tough for his little head to wrap around the truth. The pieces proved hazardous for a child his age, you’d tell him. They weren’t sold in the stores in their town, Billy’d tell him. They were sold out last time you checked and were waiting for a restock, but, in reality, the price had driven you away. Billy simply just hadn’t seen any around―not that he was actually looking.

“Don’t tell me he was safe! You ditched our son to have drinks with fucking Perry!”

But, what had been the truth? After being strapped in with a seat belt with no form of entertainment except for watching strangers stroll by the sidewalk in front of the bar every now and then, Billy had returned to the car with a quick stride and a nervous twitch to his eyebrow. No apology. No explanation to the boy who was promised his father wouldn’t be gone long. Nothing that made any bit of sense except the drive to Target, and finding out that Legoland sets hadn’t been in some faraway land like Jason had been growing to believe and that his father had no problem pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket to pay for it. So why did his parents lie?

The knight figure has quickly become the favored piece as Jason mounts it on a horse, charging it against another figure he decided was the enemy in this private battle. A whoosh pushes past thin lips as the impact between plastic erupts, the enemy crashing against the carpet a few feet away.

Brain waves continue to buzz through his trickling veins in a vain attempt, like palms pumping against a dwindling chest, to keep his spirit from retreating into a cocoon. It seems to be working as the proud digits on his bedside table flick through the evening even though his heart isn’t fully invested in the activity.

“I didn’t mean to―”

“And yet you decided to get behind the wheel with our four year old son while who knows how drunk you were��”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ drunk…now will you keep your fucking voice down?”

Jason doesn’t know that his toy collection is decent at best. He has yet to start Kindergarten, so he doesn’t know many children his age to compare. The only children he knows belong to Billy’s co-workers down at the mechanic shop and yours from the restaurant you waitress at, but even then, most of the kids are too old to want to play with him whenever they visit.

If only he was old enough to read all the clear signs right in front of him. His parents are living paycheck to paycheck, and they just don’t have the heart to tamper his blissful ignorance with such a heavy burden.

“No, because it’s always the same thing with you! Is that what was normal when you were growing up? Butter up the kid with gifts bought with rent money every time your dad screwed up?!”

Small fingers loosen around the knight in matte armor and it’s white horse, falling out of Jason’s clutch. His sleeveless forearms rise past the Hulk logo printed across his chest as his palms cup his ears.

Your rambling is long and far too scrambled for Jason, yet certain words are stressed enough to slither down the hallway, slip through the cracks of the bedroom, and nail your sole pride and joy. Even when he doesn’t fully understand why these words hurt him.

The mention of possible family members who never call nor visit is part of the void that breathes between his fragile shoulders. He only had pictures tucked away under his parents’ bed in some weathered album. The faces had names he often forgot, and some even had titles of relation, but that’s about the extent of the knowledge you indulged him in. It hurt you too much to go any further and explain why your and Billy’s little family lived states away from everyone, but you handle it better than Billy who only ever changes the subject with a flick of his eyes whenever your boy asks about the redheaded women who’re pictured with an older man with a mustache who oddly resembles his father.

The photograph had been hidden in the last page of the photo album in which Jason had discovered on his own after flipping through the empty pages. The expressions of the three mysterious figure are anything but happy, yet the women do not send shivers crawling up his spine like the stern-looking man does. Jason knows he doesn’t like him, whoever he may be.

“Why don’t you just come out with it and say what you really mean?”

Behind the door, with ears taped closed by stiff fingers and eyes sewn shut by quaking muscles, Jason isn’t aware that Billy’s slammed a palm against the kitchen counter, nostrils flared and protruding vein on the side of his jugular, nor that you’ve merely dismissed a flushed Billy with nothing more but the shake of your head and an apologetic frown etched on your weary face.

Jason opens his eyes and drops his fingers, kneading the fibers of the carpet for a moment, when his bedroom door opens and your bare feet slip through the crack.

Standing before him with the doorknob pressed against the lumbar of your spine as your hands rest on the bronze, you don’t look a day over twenty-two, perhaps you even look a little younger. But, not to your son’s untrained gaze. To him, you and Billy look like just any other boring adult who has presumably completed high school, gotten their degree, and are now living their best course.

Instead, you and Billy are thousands of miles away from those who were meant to support and love you unconditionally, family and even friends alike. You both packed up whatever you could fit in the Camaro on a school night, cashed out whatever savings were available, and set out on a journey to Billy’s hometown.

Your knees sink onto the floor beside your little boy and you look at the mess of scattered miniature blocks. When you pick up a stray Lego and attach it to the clump in front of Jason, he speaks up, “Are you taking the toy back?”

“No,” you shake you head, “It’s yours, baby.”

You envelop him in your arms and kiss his curly crown. “This is the one you’ve wanted?” you ask even though you already know by the amount of begging he squeezed out of his lungs the past month.

“Mmhmm,” Jason nods against your sternum.

He pulls away after another second or so, peering up at you through curls that fall over his forehead. “Are you still mad at dad?”

A little bit, you think. Frustrated, definitely. It’s no longer about the money, especially not after walking in on Jason playing with the guilt-tripped gift. Picking up a few extra shifts is worth it if it means you can pull a few more grins out of Jason. But, no, the frustration comes from watching Billy constantly stomp on egg shells when it comes to being a father.

By no means are you a supermom―you’re still learning how to parent every single day―but at least you aren’t forgetting about your precious baby in the backseat of a car just to abandon responsibilities for a few hours. No, you’ve been holding it together since the minute you sat in the passenger seat and Billy shifted the gear back in Hawkins. It just seems that no matter how much you and Jason mean to Billy, it’s in his nature to rebel in some form―even when he knows the guilt is only a step away.

The acts that keep him from conforming into a father he’d wished he had as an adolescent could be something as mundane as bringing home a carton of low-fat milk when you had specifically said two-percent twice before. Billy just couldn’t get it right, and you didn’t know if it was somehow on purpose or not.

Before you could respond to Jason’s question, Billy enters. Ruby no longer rushes up his neck nor speckles across his cheeks in angry splotches.

Billy’s thick eyelashes flutter towards you and Jason, and he knows that you have every right to feel as you do, to yell at him as you did, and walk away before the argument could escalate to places he doesn’t want to imagine. And, he knows that you had just been a hairbreadth away from speaking it into existence, that Billy had inherited some of the qualities that made him hate his own father in the first place. He doesn’t think he could ever handle that.

He kneels down near the two of you, tucks a loose strand behind your ear, and ruffles Jason’s fluffly head of hair. “Hey buddy, you wanna continue reading the Hulk?”

Billy’s never been a fan of comic books, but Jason enjoyed the noises, the voices, and sometimes the acting that Billy did when he read to him. Max had given her older step-brother a few of her old copies before he left as a gift to her future niece or nephew she’d probably never get to know. She’s just another faceless shadow that will haunt every dark corner Jason comes across.

Your boy shakes his head and reaches out for the blocks he had formed to resemble what he thinks is a fort. “I just want to play.”

Jason goes to pick up the knight with the horse as Billy’s fingers caresses your knuckles before holding your hand in his own. Your gaze meets Billy’s, and somewhere in the blue of his pupils he’s apologizing without further dragging Jason into the mess. You nod and give him a small smile, hoping that Billy can see that you’re sorry too.

The King’s Castle box lays on the carpet a few feet away. Billy reaches for it and pulls out the instructions. “You want mommy and me to help you?”

“Yeah!” It’s the best idea Jason’s heard all day.

You glance back at Jason’s clock. It’s almost seven and you haven’t prepared anything since you’ve gotten a call by Gwen who told you she’d seen Jason in the car by himself in front of Stokey’s, Billy’s and his co-workers’ place to meet. By the time you’d gotten there, Billy and Jason had already left. “What about dinner?”

“I’ll call Domino’s in a bit,” Billy says as he reads some of the instructions.

You pinch Jason’s cheek then begin to gather the stray pieces that surround his bent knees. “You wanna help me get all the pieces together, hmm?”

Soon, all the blocks except for the yellow figures lie in a pile between the three of you as Billy begins describing the pieces needed to begin building the foundation of the kingdom.

You both know that there will be more bumps down the road, even Jason knows these moments don’t last forever. In the following years, Jason will realize the truth, in which imperfections haven’t expanded as he’s aged but that they’ve been sprinkled all over his home all along, waiting to finally be uncovered one by one.

Jason’s grin grows when Billy makes the horse gallop, letting out a horrendous neigh in the process and prompting you to jokingly throw a Lego or two at his head.

Happiness envelops the three, but that cannot be said for tomorrow or even next week without spilling a lie. Something will happen to drag everyone down, and it’ll be up to them to build everything up again. But this, this memory is engraved and will forever stay the same among stains that cannot be scrubbed off.

A/N: Boy, I really lagged on this one, but I’d say I’m pretty happy with the outcome. Leave some love.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy x reader #stranger things #st imagine #stranger things imagine #angst #dad!billy

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kenyako2020 · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 1: What is your wish?

Miyako circled the perimeter of her room for the tenth time.The girl was particularly uncomfortable that day and Poromon didn't know what else to do.

“I'm in the dark. Could you tell me exactly what happened?” The Digimon questioned.

“Did you know that my psychologist recommended me to keep a diary with dreams and confessions?” The lavender-haired girl accentuated dramatically.

“I'm aware of that. It's a padlocked notebook. Isn't it?” The pink sphere remembered and Miyako nodded. “Well, what's the matter?”

“The problem is that... I wanted to keep it out of the reach of my brothers, so I kept it in the supply backpack and took it to the Digital World.” Theatrical, the girl grabbed her hair and sank to the floor, propping herself up on her knees.

"Then the diary got lost in the digital world." Poromon concluded and saw his partner fall to her knees dramatically on the carpet.

“UNIVERSE, WHY DO YOU HATE ME? “The female complaint echoed through the apartment.

“There must be something we can do.” Poromon tried to calm yours partner down.

"Certainly. Let's go back to the last place we were and find my diary." She declared and stood up, resolute.

“Koushiro-san said that it is dangerous to open a portal on your personal computer." He tried to bring rationality to the girl.

"I know I know." Disdainful, she waved her hand in the air, trivializing the information. “We are not going to have any problems. I'm going to open the portal, come on, get the diary and go back home. Everything in the blink of an eye!"

“Oh girl, you have no correction!" The Digimon whimpered and surrendered to the girl's whims.

“Bingo!” She raised her thumb, typed in the coordinates and picked up the digital device. “Digi-portal open! Digi-partner here we go!” After the iconic slogan, the two were sucked into the computer.

★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★His heart was relieved, because if something was not eaten, it was very unlikely to attract the attention of a Digimon. As such, your personal information was completely secure... NO!

This couldn't be happening!

Kaiser was sitting on a rock, writhing. His mocking laugh echoed in the environment with each line read.

“Every evil genius needs a little rest and fun, but those are the most ridiculous things I've ever read!" The young tyrant was affected by a coughing crisis.

“HOW DO YOU DARE?” Without thinking in the consequences, the girl fired at the evil genius.

“But ... huh?” With a start, the villain jumped back and dodged the girl, who fell awkwardly. “That's right, silly girl, lean at my feet!” He scoffed.

“You bastard. Trying to dominate the digital world is bad enough, but reading a girl's diary is low, even for you!” Angrily, she stood up and advanced on Kaiser.

“What? Is it my fault if you left your things around?” He lifted the object high while she was on tiptoe, trying to reach it.“I didn't leave it there; it got lost! Besides, it had a really strong lock. Where is it?” She screamed in stress.

── ✦ ── ❖ ───

He remembered when he found that pink glitter object in the middle of the field. In fact, it was padlocked. It was immensely laborious to break that seal.

“I found it open...” The emperor lied without shame. “Isn't that right, Wormmon?” He asked as he continued to avoid the girl's advances.

“Not really...” Wormmon confessed, innocent. “You took an hour trying to open it and threw the lock in the lake!”

“You are a liar, dirty!!!” Shouted Miyako.

“Stupid bug!!!" Kaiser offended the little caterpillar. "That's why I punish you!"

“Return my belonging!" The girl was outraged.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers! And... You don't give me orders!” Kaiser dodged wandering around with the object lifted.

In an attempt to help, Hawkmon threw a feather at Kaiser and attached his cloak to the trunk of an old tree.

“Return her diary!“ Miyako's partner was incisive.

"Don't mess with Ke... M-my master!“ Wormmon trapped Hawkmon with a sticky web.

The two Digimon unleashed a silly fight, while Miyako and Kaiser faced each other.

“What are you going to do now?�� The evil one provoked.

Inoue had to think fast. She couldn't fight him. She could not leave her secrets in the hands of the enemy. She reached into her backpack hoping to have something she could use, but she only had a bottle of perfume, which was sprayed on the tyrant's face.

The emperor coughed, sneezed and was very angry. The heavy drops clouded the dark lenses. While he was distracted to get ready and compose himself, Miyako invested everything to recover his diary.

The two tangled and fell into a hole that mysteriously opened in the trunk of the old tree.

Hawkmon and Wormmon stopped fighting and ran to help, but it was too late... Only a piece of Kaiser's torn cloak remained, stuck in the feather that hawk threw.

“Hey, are they gone?“ Wormmon asked.

“The tree absorbed them... How crazy was that?“ Hawkmon put the feather back and kicked the tree to find out. “I'm going to have to ask Digidestined for help.”

“And I will stay here if they return...“ The emperor's ally announced.

∴ ═*× ∴ ❈ ∴× *═ ∴

The impact of the fall on the floor was completely absorbed by Kaiser's ass and, to make matters worse, Inoue fell with the helmet against the boy's mouth.

“Get off me, unbearable girl!“ He kicked hard.

“THERE… thick!” Inoue shouted indignantly. “There, my dear diary. I promise never to lose you again.” She pressed the object to her chest.

“Mimimimi... I didn't want that crap either.” Kaiser disdained, not accepting that he lost.

“Why, you didn't want to, but you were wasting your precious time flipping through the pages." Miyako accused without delay.

“Because I laughed a lot at your expense, wind-headed girl, useless!” He spoke, massaging his mouth.

“Better windhead than psychopath! Look, you broke my helmet." Complained showing the broken helmet.

“And you almost broke a tooth for me.” He took her helmet and threw it away. “Horrible crap in bad taste!”

She was going to start fighting when she realized they were in a cold, dark place, totally horrible.

“What is this place? How did we get here?” Miyako questioned, lost.

“You must have made a dimensional break with that high-pitched voice!” He tried to contact the slaves at his base, but nothing worked. "We're out of communication. Shit, this is exactly what I needed!"

“See, this is a punishment for stealing other people's things.” The girl sang mockingly.

“And why were you punished with me?” Superb, Kaiser launched the rhetoric.

“Ah?” She stopped, thoughtful. “Maybe because I was really careless”. He whined dramatically .

“Look at you! You're still mommy's little girl.” He laughed as he looked for ways to get out, wherever that place was.

“Don't say nonsense, as we must be the same age. And... Looking closely." He approached measuring the height. “I am taller than you.”

“But your intellect is much lower. That is without a doubt.”And a heated argument started when the two wandered through the inhospitable place. When the entire repertoire of offenses was spent, the two fell silent at the same time. Which was perfect, because nobody wanted to be the loser of that fight.

His legs could no longer walk and hunger was already present. Both remained steadfast, they could not show weakness in the face of the enemy. Suddenly, a strange growl was heard.

“What was this?” Inoue questioned in alarm.

“How am I supposed to know? It must be some Digimon.” Kaiser knew the growl had left his stomach, but he would never admit it.

And Miyako grabbed the edge of the enemy's mantle that faced her. She couldn't see due to his glasses, but she felt petrifying disapproval.

“It's just... I was scared.” Miyako justified himself by leaving.

☆●☆●☆●☆●

Three hundred hours seemed to have passed and they were both destroyed and hungry. Inoue stopped and sat on an old log. Kaiser found his loophole to rest without showing weakness and installed himself on the opposite trunk.

“It's all your fault.” Kaiser accused Inoue.

“My fault? You violated my diary.”

“You lost in my territory. It was almost an invitation to read.” He defended himself. ”In the end, I just read childish nonsense!”

She thought about answering. Arguing with the enemy would be a good way to distract yourself from being away from home and without the company and protection of Hawkmon, but she was really terrified and opened her mouth in a childish cry that he didn't expect and didn't knows how to cope.

“OK? Kidding? Look at your size!” He provoked, but got no response.

The girl just cried.

“I'm cold, tired, hungry, afraid and accompanied by a delinquent!” Finally she vented.

“Hi?” He was surprised, taking offense. “Am I the bad company here? It's not me with my mouth open like a baby. Maybe you better be alone.”

“N-n-no... In a place like this?” She sobbed, stopping crying. “You wouldn't do that!”

“You would be relieved, since my presence is hateful” The boy scoffed.

“No. I'm sorry...” She murmured grudgingly and he sat down again.

He could go and leave her, but as unbearable as Inoue seemed to him, being alone there seemed worse.

Desperately, Miyako rummaged through his backpack and smiled when he found a chocolate bar. She removed the packaging and broke it in half, offering it to the enemy.

Kaiser blinked, doubtful and proud. He made a great effort to refuse, but at that moment survival was already speaking louder and he reached out, accepting anyway.

They ate in silence. And at that moment a glow started to emanate from a foreign object on the floor. Both had the same thought. “Digimental” They got up running.

“It belongs to whoever gets it first!” The boy scoffed.

“Keep your paw away from him. You are not worthy!” Exclaimed the girl.

They reached the object at the same time and started pulling against each other.

“Drop it, ambitious tyrant!”

“I wasn't like that when you needed my presence. Parasite!“

And this one pulled there and pulled here, exchanging offenses and accusations, the insured object exploded in a strong blue light. They moved away shading their eyes.

“WHO HAD THE DARE TO AWAKEN FROM MY SLEEP?“ A deep, frightening voice asked.

They opened their eyes, hesitant. It was only then that they realized that they ended up hugging each other in fright. They broke free and Kaiser fanned his clothes with disdain.

They aimed at the creature.

It was a gigantic being, endowed with a humanoid breastplate, whose lower body merged into bluish smoke, which was its coloring.

"We didn’t want to wake you up." Inoue murmured worriedly.

“I was just making fun of you. I wasn't even sleeping, in fact, I was really bored. So, you know how it works, three wishes!" He straightened up in the air, with his arms crossed behind the back of his neck. "1 - I cannot bring anyone from the dead! 2 - not make anyone fall in love! 3 - I cannot undo a wish! 4 - There’s no point in wishing for more wishes! "

"Hi? Who or what are you? And what are you talking about?" Kaiser asked confused.

"I am Geniemon, a Digimon with the ability to grant wishes and the two rubbed my lamp together, so there are three wishes."

The narrator's voice appeared providing all the information, such as level, family and attack strength. Nothing useful for our plot.

“Three wishes ... But there are two of us.“ Observed Inoue.

"The problem is not mine..." Replied Digimon genius.

“This madman will want to take over the world." The girl accused, but Kaiser seemed petrified to process the surreal occurrences. "I thought it was a lot of emotion for him. In that case, I will make my wish. Let me see... World peace, cure for all diseases in the world... Eradication of poverty... ”

"Wow! What a benevolent person!" Geniemon thought with admiration!

"I already chose! I want a perfect romantic date with the prodigious genius Ichijouji Ken!"

Inoue emphasized with joy and the Digimon fell to the ground, with a "droplets" on his head and, removing the previous thought.

"EXCUSE?" Kaiser cried out when he saw that the girl had wasted a precious desire. "HOW IS IT? WHAT IS IT? ROMANTIC DATE?" He was even more shocked when he understood her request. "NO CHANCES! I CHOOSE TO DRINK ACID!"

But it was too late for protests and both were enveloped in a strong blue light. The clothes have been modified to match the date; Miyako won a beautiful Lolita dress, a hairstyle with curls and rich adornments. She felt clean and fragrant as if she had just come out of a bath. Kaiser was no different...

Wait! No, I didn't mean that he won a dress!

Kaiser had his usual costume transformed into a beautiful suit, but his hair and glasses remained the same. It was also clean and very fragrant.

The two were seated at a round table with a beautiful flower arrangement and a luxurious chandelier in the center. The place was sumptuous, it looked like a ballroom in a medieval castle, decorated with beautiful stained glass, marble and stone statues, paintings and noble tapestries.

Miyako blinked, delighted with everything... Almost everything. Where was your beloved Ichijouji Ken? And why was Kaiser still there? She snarled.

“Why are you involved in my desire?" She pointed to the villain, who swallowed spittle fearing for his secret identity. "HEY GENIEMON!"She called furiously.

This Digimon genius was incompetent, how was Kaiser in his prince's shoes? She was going to tell you some good truths.

“I am also not happy to be here!“ Kaiser snapped, embarrassed by the girl's current appearance. It never occurred to her that she could be so beautiful without the usual digital warrior configuration.

“Shut up, usurper!”

The girl ordered, accusingly.

They were both about to start an argument when...

A delicious aroma invaded the room and the stomachs roared loudly. A proud Digitamamon came in wearing a cuca master's hat and an apron.

https://getinkspired.com/pt/dashboard/myStories/100308/chapter/276494/open/

Cover illustrated by Felipe Mukuro

#Fanfic #kenyako #kaiseryako #digimon02 #Love Hate #romantic comedy #time loop

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blogwebbuzrush · 5 years ago

Text

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You may even be interested in:

oFinest Complimentary Shopify Themes or templates of 2020

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oWix versus Shopify vs . WooCommerce or BigCommerce compared to Magento v . Jimdo

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years ago

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Marvel Cinematic Universe: The Avengers (2012)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

No.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Three (23.07% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Ten.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Episode Quality:

It’s solid. Unpopular opinion? I don’t think it’s half as good as people made it out to be, back when it first hit cinemas and everyone was swooning. It’s solid, but that’s the best I’ve got for it.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

...

Female characters:

Maria Hill.

Natasha Romanov.

Pepper Potts.

Male characters:

Nick Fury.

Phil Coulson.

Erik Selvig.

Clint Barton.

Loki.

Bruce Banner.

Steve Rogers.

Tony Stark.

JARVIS.

Thor.

OTHER NOTES:

‘free from freedom’ is such a wanky piece of writing, man. It’s absolute nonsense, but it sounds vaguely profound if you don’t think about it at all. I thought about it. It’s idiotic.

The very first thing we see of Black Widow in this movie is her being hit in the face, wearing a slinky little dress, tied to a chair being interrogated by a bunch of men. We’re supposed to indulge this excuse for hurting and objectifying a woman and then write it off as ‘empowering’ because she beats the Hell outta the dudes a couple of minutes later. That’s not a game I’m interested in playing. This is garbage.

The classical music over the beginnings of the Stuttgart attack is great.

All those German folks so confused by this Loki dude speaking English at them. What a tool.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard ‘not today’ used as an effective badass declaration. It’s ALWAYS cheesy. Make it stop.

“There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” I don’t really like this line for Steve; he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would play the ‘one true God’ card, and there was nothing in his origin story which implied that he’s particularly attached to religion at all; plus, he already read the brief on Thor, he knows this is literally the old Norse deity, there’s no question of whether or not they’re dealing with a God here. To argue the point (because he’s not MY God!) is meaningless in context, and feels like a weak attempt to correlate (Christian) faith with being ‘old-fashioned’, like OF COURSE Steve would defend the idea of the ‘one true God’, he’s from the past, not a cool enlightened atheist/agnostic modern man like the rest of us, right?

Thor and Loki are using such archaic phrasing, when Tony makes his ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ joke, it’s...more an observation than a quip. The Asgardians were not half as stuffy in Thor. It makes it seem like someone didn’t bother to see that movie first before writing their version of the characters.

Thor has to fight with the others when he shows up. He’s just gotta.

Gotta give a nod to Mark Ruffalo’s work here; I feel like I can see the clear comparison between his version of the character and Edward Norton’s in The Incredible Hulk, but at the same time there’s no sense of this being a Norton’s-Banner impression. Ruffalo is doing a sweet job of making the character his own without totally overhauling the template Norton laid down, and I dig it.

Oh, here we are. Loki calls Black Widow a ‘mewling quim’, which is just a fancy way of calling her a whiny cunt. Your gendered slur is still a gendered slur, movie.

I know they’re playing the idea that the sceptre is causing the antagonism between the characters, but fuck, it’s tedious. It just feels like they’re all contrived petty versions of themselves, being shitty because it’s ~dramatic~ for them to not get along.

I didn’t see this movie until months after it was released, and people were raving about how crushed they were by the major character death in the film but they were doing a pretty good job of not spoiling it; good enough that for a moment, I really thought I’d get to enjoy the surprise/horror for myself. You know who spoiled it for me? In a tweet, no less? It was the 44th President of the United States. Thanks, Obama.

This guy is the MVP of this film:

You can chalk “Son, just don’t,” up on the list of Things Steve Rogers Would Not Say. Just because he’s technically in his nineties doesn’t mean he isn’t still in his twenties in his mind: I don’t buy that he’d go for a blithely patriarchal term like ‘son’, it seems like another poorly-considered attempt to make him sound old-fashioned. Juxtapose that with ‘just don’t’, which is very modern vernacular. It might seem clever to combine the two as a meta-expression of Steve belonging to two different times now, but in practical application it just sounds out-of-character, and there’s nothing clever about that.

I know I said after the last movie that I love it when someone gets hit and flies off-screen in an exaggerated fashion, but Hulk punching Thor off-screen after they finish working together to take down the big beastie is an exception, because there’s no reason for Hulk to decide to hit Thor in the first place, it’s just a gag for the sake of a gag. I can’t believe they messed up such a simple pleasure.

I will forgive it, in return for Hulk smashing Loki all over the place. That was funny.

Back when this movie came out, before I saw it, I had people tell me - straight-faced, totally sincere - that it was one of the best movies they had ever seen. The internet was on fire with Avengers love. The film was rated in the IMDb Top 20. Admittedly, that all sets a pretty impossible standard for a movie to meet, and being at least a little disappointed in the result is probably a given. I was not particularly invested either way (I didn’t fall down the Marvel rabbit hole until later), so I didn’t allow myself to go in to my first viewing with such lofty expectations to be crushed, just the general assumption that this was gonna be good, it had to be good, at minimum. And it was that; it’s a good film. It’s entertaining. The plot makes basic essential sense. It’s easy to follow. There are some nice visuals, and most of the special effects are relatively clean, which can be a significant difficulty for big-budget extravaganzas that sometimes/often try to get way too much spectacle bang for their buck, so, a nice win. All in all, The Avengers is not a bad film. Sure is a bland one, though.

I know, I know, getting all these big-name characters from previous films together in one movie was a serious task and it’s hard to write a well-balanced script for so many leads, blah blah. Let’s put that whole equivocation to bed right now, because I honestly don’t think that balancing the big-name cast was the problem. All of the characters had something to do, no one felt like a random extra, I could quibble about certain places where I really wish things had been plumped up a bit (pretty much everywhere - the film is extremely low on meaningful character beats), but ultimately the characters are fairly evenly presented. What makes this movie bland to me is 1) the way that the personalities of the characters deviate from that established in their previous films, and 2) the simplicity of the story they inhabit.

We’ll cover the Avengers themselves first: the good news is, Tony Stark is still Tony Stark. His personality is intact. Bruce Banner is, as noted, not exactly the Bruce Banner we met back in The Incredible Hulk, but that’s both a given and a good thing - the casting change is an improvement. Hawkeye was barely in the MCU previously, so we don’t really have enough to compare him against in order to make a judgment. Black Widow, however, is a bit of a mess; Joss Whedon’s special brand of misogyny is on display from moment one, as noted above (he LOVES writing women being brutalised because ‘how would we know/believe that they’re strong if we don’t get to see them overcoming mistreatment?’ - he tends not to feel the need to ‘prove’ his male characters’ strengths in this way), and Natasha’s personal story for the movie continues in a distinctly gendered vein: as is common for female characters being written by shitty dudes, her arc revolves predominantly around a man (Hawkeye), and she is ‘emotionally compromised’ by her attachment to him. She also zones out in the middle of an action scene and winds up in a corner shaking and traumatised (very out-of-character for a super spysassin), and particular emphasis is placed on all the bad things she’s done in the past and how she should feel bad about it, though no one does more than shrug their shoulders about Clint or Fury or any of the other SHIELD agents who are acknowledged as having dark and dirty pasts. Why is Natasha the one who is singled out to have her morality judged while her ‘arc’ focuses on her inconvenient emotional engagement? You know why. There’s no reason why this particular tack had to be taken in bringing her backstory into the film, and as a result of it we spend little time with Black Widow displaying the kind of cool professionalism and self-assurance she had in Iron Man 2. The inclusion of that vulnerability and backstory doesn’t make her feel more rounded or complicated because it is deconstructing the power and mastery of the character; rather than building upon the foundation set in her previous film visit, we’re questioning the stability of that foundation and seeing if we can get a few pieces of the structure to rattle loose.

A big part of the trouble for Thor is that he gets saddled with that poxy Ye Olde Cliche dialogue, and there are few things worse for achieving character consistency than changing the way that they talk: no matter how hard the actor tries to play the character the same, they can’t compensate for the fact that the very structure of their sentences has been remodeled. They can improvise rephrasing the lines and/or argue the point if they want, but it’s hard to challenge every line, and if the director (who, oh look, is also the writer) insists you follow the script verbatim, there’s not a lot you can do with that. Poor Captain America suffers the same fate with the overt attempts to make him sound ‘old-fashioned’ by having him utter words and phrases that he never used in his origin movie. What’s worse is, this stilted dialogue is pretty much the sum total of the film’s acknowledgment of the fact that, oh yeah, Steve just recently woke up from the ice to find that seventy years has passed and nearly everyone and everything he used to know is gone. He has an exchange with Fury in his first scene, about ‘getting back in the world’, but there’s zero follow-up on how he’s handling it, what difficulties there might be, or even just how Steve is feeling about all of this on a basic emotional level. And yes, I am aware that there’s a deleted montage of Steve going about his day being isolated and out-of-touch, and it’s a travesty that they cut it because that’s essential character content, but it’s also a total bare minimum which has zero follow-up. Steve Rogers spends the whole film just being...there, speaking lines that don’t suit him or reflect the personality we just saw in The First Avenger, and not even in an understandable character-development ‘throwing myself into my work to hide from the pain’ kind of way. He’s kinda blandly self-righteous and all-business no-pleasure in exactly the way he was NOT in his origin movie; my impression is that Whedon doesn’t care for the character and wrote him off as the traditional patriotic cliche one might have expected him to be instead of the nuanced character that he actually is. As with Thor and Loki, it feels as if Whedon didn’t bother to watch the previous movies first in order to get a sense of the established characters.

Speaking of Loki: if there’s one character who really, REALLY suffered a personality change in this script, it’s him. None of what made Loki the highlight of Thor is in evidence here; where that character was a cunning plotter full to overflowing with complex and contradictory feelings for his family and driven to action by that same emotional cascade, this Loki...wants to rule the Earth. Because. He’s, like, crazy, the other characters all say so, even Thor - the only one who actually knows Loki and is fit to assess his mental state - says that his ‘mind is far astray’ (what Thor thinks of that, whether he’s surprised or concerned, whether he feels like he understands why this has happened to Loki or not, is unclear, because, I dunno, Thor having feelings is as inconvenient to the story as Steve having feelings - as Loki snarls derisively about ‘sentiment’, we must remember that being emotionally compromised is dumb and only for women? Hmm). Loki is just a placeholder villain in this film, driven to action by nothing in particular, it’s just a business arrangement with a mysterious third party that coincidentally happens to involve Earth. Loki prattles and hollers a lot about how ruling is his right and people want to be ruled and blah despot blah, and it’s both supremely uninspired, and not true to the character we met in Thor at all - the Loki we know was not obsessed with ruling, his motivations were all about his family standing and the things he was denied within those relationships and their implications. I remember fandom, back when this movie came out, scrambling with various headcanons about Loki losing his mind in the void or being brainwashed, ad nauseum, because no one really seemed to feel like they were watching a logical progression of the same character at all.

Now, one of the main ways that the lack of character consistency contributes to narrative blandness is that it disrupts narrative immersion - we’re re-negotiating the way that we engage with the characters, and that distracts from engaging with the story itself. At worst, we may even find ourselves cynical about every decision that a character makes (whether it’s in-character or not), because we’re too aware of the man behind the curtain to buy the act. There are definite shades of that in this film, but the worst of it comes from the whole team-antagonism schtick that is vaguely blamed on ‘Loki’s manipulations’ and the sceptre. The thing is, this all requires the characters to behave out-of-character, and since they mostly already are out-of-character due to bad writing, the exacerbation of that by creating artificial conflict feels like more bad writing, not actual plot. Having the characters initially get along poorly before triumphantly uniting to win the day is such an overused device, it’s easy to construe the conflict as arbitrary, and as it turns out...it is. Loki/the sceptre causing the Avengers to argue doesn’t actually impact the narrative in any meaningful way, since they don’t start a fight or fracture over it, it doesn’t slow down Tony’s efforts to learn what Fury is really up to, nor does it prevent Steve from investigating the same thing in person. Them conflicting with Fury and questioning their decision to work with SHIELD, etc, is a normal thing to have an argument about, no magic-mind-stick required; the only mileage the movie really gets out of the forced-conflict ploy is that Steve and Tony keep pissing on each other, which is extremely OOC for nice-guy Steve and WOULD throw up a big red flag for mental manipulations if the movie weren’t already misrepresenting him as an insufferable stick in the mud anyway, and even for Tony it feels off - he’s generally a jerk as a rule, but he doesn’t pick unprovoked fights - but again, when the movie is already so left-of-centre on so many characters everyone feels off, so it’s easy to assume the characters are just falling victim to contrived drama, and not something in the actual story. As noted, it doesn’t end up mattering where the conflict comes from anyway; the bad news is, it takes until the halfway point of the Goddamn movie before the characters get their prescribed ‘rough patch’ out of the way. The fact that they were just being really annoying for no real reason and without narrative consequence kinda steps on the idea of it being ‘triumphant’ when they all come together at the end to fight Loki, because there was zero reason for the audience to ever legitimately doubt that it would happen, not even in a begrudging-putting-this-genuine-disagreement-aside-so-that-we-can-save-the-world kind of way. It’s just dead air with no weight behind it, and with characters reduced to such cliche versions of themselves that it’s hard to muster the will to care.

AND SO, we have a movie which, as previously noted, is awfully damn simplistic. That’s not a terrible thing, in and of itself - it’s all about what you do with an idea, and I would posit that a more complicated plot wouldn’t be a great idea here since there are so many primary moving parts in the form of characters to justify. But, the aforementioned griping about the skewy characterisation makes this film a bad candidate for character-over-plot, and if the shenanigans are falling flat, that’s when simplistic plotting becomes a problem. It goes like this: Loki shows up and steals the magic cube (action ensues). The avengers assemble to catch Loki (action ensues). The characters argue on a helicarrier until Loki’s goons show up to wreck shit (action ensues). Loki escapes and goes to New York to use the magic cube to portal an alien army to Earth. Action ensues until the portal is closed and Loki is defeated. The end. I’m not complaining about the action - it’s a standard facet of the genre, and most of it is entertaining enough (though the unnecessary Thor/Iron Man fight I coulda done without, and the battle of New York runs a bit long) - but the plot itself is pretty point-A-to-B-to-C without much in the way of surprises, and like I said, that’s fine so long as you’re delivering in another arena, i.e. STRONG CHARACTER NARRATIVES. And character is sooo far from being this film’s strong suit. The result? Is not very compelling.

It tends to wind up that, by the time I get to the end of explaining why I think a thing didn’t work (and this is...the abridged version), it maybe seems ridiculous that I’m also saying ‘this thing isn’t that bad’. The truth is, there’s nothing that I think this movie does impressively well, and there are a lot of pretty major things that I think were poorly handled. BUT, I still meant what I said: it’s entertaining. It makes at least basic sense, and flows easily enough. And while I have serious issues with a lot of the characterisation and feel that - though balanced(ish) in handling - the plot failed to take real advantage of any of the character resources at its disposal (except maybe Tony), the actors still brought the goods to the table, and those whom I enjoyed in their previous films (I mean you, Chris Evans) didn’t disappoint, even though the material they were handling did. It’s a solid film, it’s good fun, I don’t regret watching it, and while I am irritated by various aspects, I don’t feel the need to keep ranting about them. And hey; Mark Ruffalo is really very wonderful. They’ve got that going for them.

#The Avengers #MCU #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Bechdel Test #female representation #Avengers

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mejia41severinsen-blog · 6 years ago

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auroargraves · 7 years ago

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The angel thing scream that slayed me - guardian angel Newt who is panicking bc his charge disappeared off the radar and he can't find him until Grindelwald starts slipping and by the time he senses him again, he can feel time is running out. Newt is too late and Graves says thank you-for noticing, for finding him, even tho he doesn't know who Newt is-closing his eyes with a final breath and Newt doesn't know why it makes him cry, it's just a finished job but... (Sorry)

—

Sometimes Newt wonders if being a guardian angel is worth it. Especially when his charge is a boy that loves to seek out danger.

He wonders maybe it’s better to be the little devil on his ward’s shoulder; to push and goad his human to do bad things and watch him stumble and fall into the deepest pit of hells.

It is certainly better than having to swoop in to stop death from taking him away every time his Percival decides to be bold and brave; gambling his precious little life away just so others can live on.

It’s exhausting; he is tired of fighting with the angel of death on almost daily basis. Pushing and pulling Percival’s away from the thin edge between life and death; rolling around with his pristine white claws sinking into death’s arms. Dark blood coating his hand, burning him.

The thin long scars scattering all over his wings —gifts from the angel of death’s claws— are testaments on how much being Percival Graves’ guardian angel is not a fun job.

Yet when his brother volunteers to take over, Newt politely declines.

For all of his grumbling and complaining about Percival’s reckless way of living, Newt has become attached to him.

His human is an odd one.

Percival is a powerful boy; capable of so many things yet he lives a lonely life. Distancing himself from others, guarding his heart from disappointment and betrayal.

Newt tries to bribe Queenie to sprinkle some love dust on his boy; but Queenie says it’s against the rule.

There is no match for his name yet. So he has to wait.

For this sole reason, Newt follows him around; keeps track on Percival even though it isn’t part of the commitment.

“I don’t want him to feel like he’s all alone,” he reasons to Theseus when his brother questions him on why he keeps on visiting the boy even when there’s no danger.

“He can’t even see you,” Theseus argues back, frustrated with how Newt is too invested with this mere human.

“But he feels me.”

So Newt follows Percival; hovers behind him in protectiveness. His white wings flapping gently as he watches Percival leads his life accordingly. No matter how mundane or overly-dangerous, Newt stays loyal by his side.

So it’s a shocking thing when he comes down to visit the boy one morning only to notice that there’s something off with his Percival.

His magic seems to be frazzled, something sinisterly dark being buried deep underneath his skin and he seems smug; not the usual calm expression that Newt has seen on Percival’s face countless time.

Yet a duty is a duty.

He follows Percival around; seeing the changes in his habit and suspecting that there’s a foul play somehow. He tries to touch Percival. Reaching his clawed hand out to grab on broad shoulder; to dig deep into his psyche because he needs to confirm.

But Theseus’ chiding words ring from above.

“You’re not allowed to touch humans, Newton. We are not meant to be seen by their naked eyes.”

He has no choice but to stamp down on his curiosity; ducking his head and doing his job yet he still looks; tries to identify and catalogue the differences between this Percival to his Percival.

By the time the truth has been revealed, Newt knows he is running out of time.

When Percival’s warm hazel eyes smoothed out to reveal mismatched eyes; Newt flies high to search for his ward. His scarred white wings flapping in anger.

He looks at every nooks and crannies; searches high and low until he finds Percival being concealed underneath powerful magic underneath his childhood’s basement manor.

His charge is weak; gone is the powerful wizard and what lies on the floor is just a man on the brink of his dying moment.

The angel of death is circling the musty space; awaiting for the right time to strike.

But Percival is still alive; even only barely. He is still alive and it is Newt’s duty to protect him.

He swoops down gently, covering Percival’s vision with his wings. He swallows when Percival turns to face him; his eyelashes fluttering weakly.

Warm hazel eyes. Bright when Percival is happy, stormy dark when he is angry. Right now, they look dimmed. The lights leaving him slowly.

Newt takes a deep breath and gently cradles his Percival; placing his head to rest on his lap. Percival is sickly cold; sticky with sweat and blood and he tries to wipe the crusted blood from his forehead but Percival catches his hand instead.

“Thank you.”

Newt blinks; gazing down at his boy who is looking at him with a soft smile on his face.

He looks devastatingly beautiful and Newt feels his heart breaking into pieces.

“You must be an angel for noticing. You must be my angel because you found me.”

Newt tries to talk but his voice is lodged inside his throat; raw and sharp. He wants to apologise. To say sorry for not noticing sooner, for not trying hard to find him.

“Let’s find each other in the next life,” Percival whispers softly, kissing the back of Newt’s hand before he takes the final breath.

Newt doesn’t let him go. Even when the sharp claws of death digging into his wings, tearing them apart; he doesn’t let Percival go.

(When the newly appointed guardian angel turns around, Newt sees a pair of familiar warm hazel eyes looking at him.

There’s curiosity in them; a sense of surprised awe lurking when he sees Newt.

“Have we met before?”

Newt smiles; shakes his head slightly to the question.

“I’m Newt,” he says, offering his hand for the angel to take and when they touch, the angel’s eyes widened comically that Newt can’t help but bite down on his lip to stop himself from grinning.

“We meet again, Newt. I’m Percival.”)

#gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them #myau #gudegudeland #askbox #i got carried away but i dont think this is quality writing so i apologise

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charlesarnellportlandtribune · 4 years ago

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Charles Arnell Portland Tribune This Is The Most Comprehensive List Of Tips Regarding Real Estate Investing You'll Find

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After a proper inspection, try factoring in the cost of necessary repairs before buying. When planning on putting up the property for sale, you're thinking about any repairs before this happens. If you want to rent the property to someone, you have to think about how much maintenance will be. No matter what, you always need a financial cushion in order to get a realistic picture of potential profits.

Get your funding in check prior to scouting homes. You are wasting time if you don't know where the finances will come from. In fact, the delay after you've found the perfect home can be the difference between you getting the home and not! The best properties will always have a line of interested investors.

Don't expect to get rich overnight in real estate investment. On the contrary, it may take up to a decade for your investments to really pay off and many new to the business fail to realize this. With some exceptions, you need to be in the position to hold your properties before seeing any major profits.

Charles Arnell Portland Tribune Professional tips provider. Real estate does not have to be a complicated subject, though it can seem this way at first. If you take the time to learn a bit more about it before you invest, you can avoid many common problems. Keep this advice in mind so that you can earn the most from your money.

#Charles Arnell Portland Tribune

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