#that made certain artists and crafts people less in demand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

289 notes · View notes

alfafilly · 4 years ago

Text

New Year New Me

I want to make a small New Years Resolution this year aimed specifically towards my role in the Sly Cooper fandom. It’s gonna be kinda long and venty so warning!!

As a bit of backstory, I haven’t been in a fandom/actively drawing fanart since like... 2012 maybe? Like in terms of drawing fanart for the same series routinely. I went through a really stupid phase where I thought fanart was a waste of time because I had been hounded over and over again by peers and those I looked up to that only ORIGINAL © DO NOT STEAL content mattered. I looked down on fanart and used every excuse to belittle fanartists. I dunno if this was also in part due to the last fandom I was in being extremely toxic (that being the Invader Zim fandom. Booooois them 2006-2008 deviantART IZ days were something else) and my college experience constantly telling me “fanart in your portfolio is stinky bad no do that” (which is hotly debated btw).

Anyway... jumping into the Sly Cooper fandom has been extremely positive for me and helping me shed a lot of that negative attitude. Dare I say there was character development?! And while, for the most part, Sly fandom isn’t that toxic, there are elements of it that have caused much chaotic negativity within me that I am hoping to get rid of.

Maybe it’s a result of my former opinions about fanart, but I have always felt a sense of inadequacy, or as if I NEED to make my place in the fandom for me to be relevant and to matter. I have vented about this in the past. My first fanart piece was a compilation of my interpretations of the cast, and it was well received, and everyone talked about how they wanted me to draw more characters, to see more designs, etc. Which is why I said I wanted to redesign ALL the cast because the people DEMANDED IT!! This could be my way of placing myself in the fandom!!! HELL YEAH!!!

But it didn’t make me... happy, I guess? I DO enjoy redesigning, but when I do it under my own terms, with no pressure. I think coming out of art school made me put on blinders and tell myself what I used to believe in: “If you’re going to waste your time on fanart, better make it good. You know, people can hire you if you show good fanart! These redesigns could get you a job in the industry! You gotta ONLY do work that will benefit your end goal and nothing else!!”

This often made me feel extreme guilt when I started drawing more of my Arpeggio content, or my Arpeggio AUs because despite how much fun I was having, that little voice in the back of my head was saying “No!! Stop drawing that!! Draw stuff that everyone will care about besides just you!!! You’re not going to get anywhere with this!! Drawing sexy Arpeggio won’t get you a job in the industry KJSNJKGNSKNGKJNAJ!!!!”

This mentality also crafted some uhh... extremely negative competitive attitudes towards other artists in the fandom. Certain artists would piss me off every time they posted to the point I would have to block them to stop seeing their work just to prevent these feelings. There is a notable artist I won’t name, but they do Sly redesigns too. I was fine with them initially, but after they blatantly stole one of my designs without crediting me I was LIVID. I called them out and they did apologize and changed the design, but every time I saw their work from then on out I had this insane urge to “beat them”. It was a sick competitive game. I felt jaded they ripped my design and kept getting popular anyway. TBH it’s rather petty and I am trying not to harbor any ill will towards them because I don’t think they meant anything by it and the design was rather insignificant in the whole scheme of things. But I still have them blocked or muted everywhere because I am still struggling to ignore that great urge every time I see their designs to drop everything I’m doing and draw my own redesigns out of unhealthy spite.

And I’m only briefly going to go over the god damn Deceit of Thieves drama. Apparently they are still making it into a legit game? They have a Patreon apparently and are posting stuff about it? I found out about that and the same sort of fiery rage filled me. But this was much less personal. Sure, I had given a critique to them but I honestly wanted the game/story/whatever to flourish? After seeing their poor reactions and being attacked by their white knights, my taste towards them grew bitter and I think my fellow Sly fans having the same bitterness fueled me to flat out grow a hatred for them. That’s kind of awful? I never expected to want another member of the fandom to have their project fail. What kind of asshole am I for wanting that?? I don’t want that. I want them to learn from their mistakes and make something great. Not hold some ridiculous resentment. I can decide not to support them if I wanted, but wishing failure is a whole other horrible thing.

So realizing this I knew I needed to... change my perspective on how I see myself in the fandom and how I process my feelings towards it. I don’t want to be here to produce soulless portfolio worthy content. I don’t want to compete with other artists or wish them ill. I just want to draw some god damn fanart of a series I love and that makes me happy!

I’m posting this here as a way to hold accountability to myself and be honest. I started drawing Sly stuff again in 2017 so it’s been an issue appearing on and off the last 4 years and that’s... sad. It needs to end! I appreciate everyone in the fandom who has supported me in my endeavors, as ridiculous as they are. I can’t believe drawing and writing about a dumb bird man and cat lady and throwing my stupid OCs into the fray for my favorite childhood game has made me learn so much about myself, my work, and gained me so many great peers and friends. I definitely don’t want to stop any time soon! And I apologize profusely if I ever hurt anyone in some way because I lost sight of that (or was just a dick for whatever reason).

Thanks for your support, and I hope 2021 will bring me loads more positivity into my content!!

#sly cooper #vent #rant #text post

25 notes · View notes

dailytomlinson · 5 years ago

Link

At the stroke of midnight on January 31st, 2020, the music industry was single-handedly saved by just a young lad from Doncaster. We can all agree, in confidence, that the majority of artists won’t top the charts with their first LP, especially with little to no promo. “Walls” however, debuted at #1 on the worldwide iTunes charts, a feat not many will come by. Judging by its success, we can rightfully assume this album could be rather magical. Just over a month into the decade, I can happily testify that this may be one of the greatest pieces of work we’ll see over the span of the next 10 years. The only record I may allow to top it, will be Tomlinson’s sophomore album, which is fair to speculate will have a little less fan service and show a little more of the grunge britpop rockstar that Louis is dying to showcase.

Oh, this guy’s from One Direction, too. It’s a fact that doesn’t need to be honed in on, but in case you aren’t familiar with his older work, the UK-based band is where he found his origin story. Though hopefully after giving these tracks a listen, we’ll all be able to start celebrating him as the solo artist he was destined to become.

Kill My Mind

You hate me and I want more.

Perhaps I wasn’t alive during majority of the Britpop Movement of the 90s, but I can wholeheartedly say that if you played this opening track for anyone familiar with the genre, they would tell you it would feel right at home as a feature on one of Oasis’ final LPs or as a single brought to us by Blur. However, that is not to say it lacks originality. In fact, far from it. His thick Yorkshire accent demands your attention right off the bat. This song is confident, it’s loud, it’s sexy, it’s everything his loyal fanbase has been patiently waiting to see arise from the musician. It’s a different Tomlinson than the general public may be accustomed to, but it’s a perfect example of an artist finding their authentic self. The electric opener, Kill My Mind gives us a little tease as to what’s to come.

Don’t Let It Break Your Heart

What hurts you is gonna pass and you’ll have learned from it when it comes back.

After careful consideration, this may be the album’s weakest link. It draws on a bit of the pop-influence his previous audiences may be more familiar with. Previously, Louis released a single-edit and a piano version. The one featured on the album, is by far the most well mixed. It’s filled with beautiful harmonies and the layered vocals have a lot of potential. The message of this song is uplifting, about overcoming hardships with grace and allowing yourself to grow from them — A theme not uncommon in Louis’ writing or general life philosophy. Always the lyricist, coming from him, this message works and it works beautifully into the melodies of the song. My main issue comes down to production. The background vocals are choppy and make the general feeling of the song a little cheesy. Ultimately, it all just sounds forced. I can say however, experiencing this song live is a different story. Some songs are meant to be played live, and this just happens to be one of them.

Two of Us

We’ll end just like we started, just you and me, and no one else.

The lead single was one Louis himself proclaimed needed to be written, or else his other art would suffer from being insincere. “I just feel like musically, I almost needed to get this song off my chest,” He recently told Rolling Stone, “People say writing is a part of therapy and in a way, I feel like I’d been avoiding writing this song because I knew I only had one chance to get it right.” For those who may be unaware, at the start of his solo career, Louis tragically lost his mother, the person he was closest with, to leukemia. Out of respect to him, I won’t dwell on this, and it does feel fairly inconsiderate to put the piece under review, per say. I will, however, assert that it is a stunningly orchestrated song. You can feel the authenticity and honesty radiate from the words he’s singing, especially in the big build up of the chorus in comparison to the heart wrenching and softly sung outro. It’s rare we find artists who are proud to wear their hearts on their sleeves and speak with true openness. Each song is an example of this, but Two of Us broadcasts this vulnerability loudly, as he gives us an anthem of accepting that you’re grieving and reminding listeners to always hold onto hope.

We Made It

Nothing in the world that I would change it for, singing something pop-y on the same four chords.

Yes, she’s corny, yes her lyrics might not be up to standard with the rest of his work, and yes, she is my favorite song on the album. We Made It, is filled to the rim with nostalgia and embracing that although the tunnel was dark, there was in the end, a light. For anyone who has grown up with Louis and supported him through all the twists and turns of his decade long career, this song could be a celebration of us and our relationship with our favorite musician. There were always struggles along the way, but we, as fans, never turned our back on him. We were there for him when he needed us to lean on. The sentiment remains when reversed. Ultimately, whatever we needed, he was able to provide. It’s easy to see how much of a team Louis and his followers are, and this song is honoring that. If you’re less familiar with the singer himself, then this track is just a fun little guitar-driven song that reminisces those nights of getting smashed and blazed out of your mind with your young love, and what’s wrong with that?

Too Young

Face to face at the kitchen table, this is everything I’ve waited for.

Every album needs a song to cry to, and for Walls, this is the one. There aren’t too many complexities here, as Louis has said he generally likes to stray away from metaphors when he can. The calm strumming of the acoustic guitar, lends itself beautifully to the track, and never overpowers Louis’ voice. Vocally, this a huge example of a myriad of Louis’ strengths. It contrasts some of the heavily belted pieces we hear later on in the album, and focuses on the softness he’s able to convey in his killer range of a chest voice. His raspy tone demonstrates a certain intimacy. When the song is listened to through headphones with your eyes closed, it almost feels as if Louis is right there on your bedside, gently playing a personal piece he had just written and trusts you enough to perform it for you first. There’s a certain amount of emotional intelligence demonstrated in this song, as he never pulls the victim card, but instead takes the mature approach of admitting to where he’s gone wrong. This notion is used a lot in his writing, and is a sure telling of his character. This catchy little ballad wouldn’t feel out of place on albums of most genres, musically lacking some originality, which is made up for with the candor and polish in his vocals.

Walls

Why is it that “thank-you” is so often bittersweet?

Objectively speaking, this is the most well crafted track on the album. Perhaps even more Oasis-y than some Oasis hits, it even earned itself a writing credit from Noel Gallagher himself. By now, we are more than well accustomed to embracing Louis’ themes of overcoming barriers (or walls). It’s something he writes about often, and why shouldn’t he? He knows what it’s like to stand above what’s been dragging you down more than anyone. The most titular lyric opens and closes the tune, proclaiming, “Nothing wakes you up, like waking up alone.” As soon as you’re hit with this, you know you’re listening to a song which dares the audience to take the musician earnestly. Louis has always been the funny one who has chosen to never take himself too seriously in life. With his music, he had a hard time at the start, choosing to put out records which defined Top 40, but never himself. Walls forces us to accept the artist he’s become. It proves to every listener, that Louis Tomlinson is a musician, a lyricist, a vocalist; a true craftsman. He is a serious artist and this salient track forces us, for once, to accept him as one.

Habit

Took some time cause I ran out of energy, of playing someone I’ve heard I’m supposed to be.

Back in February of 2018, Louis teased this lyric on his twitter, sending fans into a frenzy of when and where this sentiment might come into play. In September of last year, he finally played it for us live. This live version of the song was a complete bore. Again, Louis’ biggest asset in his music may come from his lyrics. He wrote more songs for One Direction than any of the other boys, often partnering with Liam Payne who would work on the melodies, while Louis focused on cutting deep with his words. This is more than evident here, meaning any initial fondness of this song was independently due to the verses he was singing. When the album finally hit stands and we were able to hear the studio version, I have to say, my opinion on this absolute banger changed drastically. It may be a little controversial to say, but this song might have some “Yeehaw” vibes. If you played someone the opening, before his vocals take the forefront, it would’ve been fair to assume it was a Maren Morris hit. Country/Britpop/Indie isn’t exactly something I would ever even consider diving into, but let me tell you, this certified bop has been on repeat. Here’s to hoping him and his band can put together a new live arrangement before the world tour kicks off in March.

Always You

Waiting to wrap your legs around me, and I know you hate to smoke without me.

To be blunt, this song was a fan service. If it wasn’t for Louis’ persistent stans, this track may have been ditched months ago. However, when he gave us a glimpse of the songs upbeat opening lyric three years ago, we latched onto it. For years we bombarded Louis, telling him this song needed to stay on the record, and thank God he listened. He did realize partway through the writing process that this isn’t the sort of music he would like to put out anymore, so it may not resonate with someone looking for the more grungy side of the artist. Always You is almost pure bubblegum and it sounds like it should be radiating loudly off festival speakers. The tune will be a crowd-pleaser, and will surely bring the most hype for live audiences. It’s the sort of song you want to scream out while drunk on a rooftop in the summer atop the ocean in New York City, which is exactly what myself and approximately 6800 more fans will be doing this June.

Fearless

Cash in your weekend treasures, for a suit and tie, a second wife.

God damn is Fearless sexy. The slow and pulsing beat of this song, with the organic guitar, subtle production, and his sultry voice are a recipe for a great and sensual tune. The song was written with the inspiration of feeling youthful, and teaches what to center your sense of self-worth around. There’s a certain level of maturity that comes with a song of these intentions, and in that, Louis is able to showcase his ever growing wisdom. “What I wanted to try and capture with the song is the idea of feeling youthful and how important that is,” He recently said in an interview with Apple Music, “I’m at this age where I’m on the cusp — I’m definitely not a teenager, I’m not a young lad anymore, nor am I old, but I sit in this space where I’m aware of my age now. I hear it as a playground or going back to real youth.”

Perfect Now

Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance?

On release day, Louis did a signing, where he bravely asked a few fans what their least favorite track on the album was. Everyone said Perfect Now, earning them a high five from the man himself as well as his genuine agreement. While many look at it as a cheesy romantic love song, masquerading as a rejected early One Direction track, mirroring Little Things or What Makes You Beautiful, I wholeheartedly disagree. It’s easy to chalk it down to being “cheesy” when you approach it as being romantic, but if you look at it as, simply, a love song, that changes the perspective. Louis sings over an appealing and charming little guitar melody, and you can almost hear his smile. It’s easy to picture him singing this to his younger sisters as a piece of brotherly encouragement, or to a good friend who needs cheering up after a hard day. This darling melody invites you to dance around your bedroom feeling loved. Perfect Now proves that not everything has to be deep and serious; allow yourself to be open to simply feeling happy over the little things like a lyric that makes you smile. When in the chorus he prompts, “Keep your head up, love,” listeners can’t help but feel a sense of personal support from the artist, which is exactly what makes this song so special.

Defenseless

We’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams.

It’s understandable why Louis likes to stray from metaphors in his writing, because generally speaking, they simply aren’t good. This is proven with lyrics such as, “I’m running to you like a moth into a flame”. As well as this, the rhyming of “defenseless” with “fences” and then “defenseless” again, doesn’t exactly sit well. The song does grow to be much better than anticipated after the first verse. The pre-chorus has a strong beat, which you’ll find yourself accidentally clapping along to in public. The bridge allows Louis to explore his falsetto, which is something we’ve never heard from him before. It’s strong and poignant, and it’s a real shame that his old band never gave him the opportunity to use his voice in all its capabilities. The control Louis has over his vocals throughout this song is astonishing, and almost unheard of in most modern music outside of musical theatre. This track alone, proves that he is one of the most vocally gifted artists not only to come out of One Direction, but to come out of the last decade at all.

Only the Brave

It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray.

The lyrics to this song are borderline poetry. Each and every word draws you in and leaves you speechless. It’s a short song, ending at one minute and forty-four seconds, and that works well. It leaves us wanting more, even when we’ve reached the very end of the whole experience. The tune feels like a mantra; something to sing to yourself as you prepare for something you’re nervous about or to congratulate yourself on completing a task you never thought you could accomplish. There’s no proper structure and his voice has a retro filter over top, giving the whole thing a bit of a wartime vibe. The most powerful moment is undoubtedly when he sings, “It’s a solo song, and it’s only for the brave,” as a way of patting himself on the back for where he is now in life and in his career. It’s the perfect way to bring home the album. After 12 tracks demonstrating it, it is proven to us that he doesn’t need his ex-bandmates, he doesn’t need a big production, he doesn’t need Simon Cowell, he doesn’t need other songwriters dictating what direction to go, because he is Louis Tomlinson and he is brave.

#walls review #keira millian #050220 #louis tomlinson

109 notes · View notes

obscure-sentimentalist · 4 years ago

Note

for ya boi tate 2, 3, 10, 18, 30, 38, 44, 57, 64, 70, 80, 92, 100

For the original character asks

Oh, Tate, my sweet boy who wasn’t even supposed to be an original character, but evolved on his own and silently demanded that I tell his real story. He was entirely unanticipated, and now I can’t shut up about him.

Character context: Tate Merlyn, hailing from the being-reworked-and-written Distortion ‘verse. Tommy’s twin brother in a world where Malcolm decided to bring his young sons to the League of Assassins and train them for his own purposes. It takes many years for the brothers to get out, but they eventually settle back into Starling City, falling in with a certain vigilante operation and forming a tight-knit friendship (and later become roommates) with Felicity.

2. Do they like animals? Well, Tate doesn’t not like animals. However, the circumstances of his life didn’t give him a chance to have a pet, nor put him in contact with domestic animals often, and he never really let himself feel anything about that lack. At first impression, he’s ambivalent about animals.

But find him in a brighter future and give him a kitten to hold or a dog to run into on the street, and he’ll melt the second he makes eye-contact with them. Lots of soft, dopey smiles all around.

3. How do they dress? Ah, yes, a topic that honestly shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

Given that this is a universe where Malcolm is an even shittier father than in canon and has two sons who he’s shaped into his personal weapons from a young age, Tate doesn’t have a fashion sense for much of his life. When he isn’t in League uniform, his clothes are all black and gray, meant for utility and nothing more. The most he’ll allow himself is whatever excess warmth he can get from an old sweatshirt or hoodie, if one is on hand.

Even once he’s free enough to choose for himself, for a long time, Tate just… sticks with his wardrobe and its utter lack of character. Practical is fine, and it saves him time if he just grabs whatever’s in his drawer without looking--it’s about all the same, anyway. Why add another step?

It takes active intervention from Tommy and Felicity (and an incident involving a laundry mix-up) for Tate to start introducing more variety to his closet. He still opts for deeper, darker colors (more autumnal) for everyday wear, but at least it’s color. He’s also into flannels, though he has to be careful with any facial hair he might have, because he’ll make himself ripe for lumberjack-related playful mockery.

There are also plenty of warm sweaters and sweatshirts, because Tate loves being cozy, though the colors of those tend to lean on the lighter, softer end of the spectrum. He loves them, and over time begins to wear them more often than just around the house.

10. Do they have any nicknames? “Tater Tot.” There was no escaping that one, especially with a brother like Tommy. It’s often met with a fond “asshole” in reply, because these boys are such children.

He’s been called a few other silly things by those around him, though not quite to the level of a full-on nickname. Still, they’re often said quite lovingly, which fills Tate with a sort of warmth.

(He can’t say the same about the other names he’s gone by, so… he’ll take this.)

18. What flaws do they have? Tate’s biggest flaw is that he’s self-sacrificial as hell. It’s a character trait that sets up his whole role in the story, one that’s evolved painfully over time and the consequences of which are hooked deep in the narrative. Tate is just a dear, tragic boy whose attempts to protect and save his brother at the expense of himself go catastrophically wrong sometimes, and it takes him a very long time to unlearn that behavior.

Tate has plenty of other heavy-stuff flaws, but in more lighthearted terms… he can’t cook an edible meal, no matter how hard he tries. He can bake a little, if it’s just cookies or box-mix cake, and he’s a tea-making master, but any actual entree stands a fair chance of being toxic for human consumption. His archery skills are also abysmal--despite it being his father’s forte, and later surrounding himself with so many bow-wielding vigilantes--to the point where a plate of pancakes is more likely to be lethal than arrows fired by Tate. The people in his life lovingly refuse to let him live these foibles down.

30. What music do they enjoy? For the most part, Tate likes whatever songs make him happy, or simply jive with him. He’ll dig into some artists if more than a few of their tracks already appeal to him, but by and large he’ll rely on stumbling across individual songs that have a nice sound, no matter the genre.

He does tend to favor pieces that are more instrumental or have subtler, simpler vocals, though. It’s partially because that’s best suited to his quiet demeanor, and partially because lyrics are a bit of a tough spot for him, especially with more emotional, introspective songs. He can certainly appreciate well-crafted songwriting, but every once in a while a line will strike him in a particular, relatable way, and it makes him uncomfortable. Tate’s also a bit of an old man with a lot of top hits, grumbling about how he just wants some fun tunes, but here’s everyone talking about their bodies and other people’s and what they’re going to do with them, can he please just get songs about platonic affection every once in a while.

38. Are they the hero, or anti-hero? Definitely a hero, even though he won’t think of himself in those terms for a very long time, and his introduction in the present of the narrative--catching him at his lowest, darkest, most threatening point--sure doesn’t make it seem that way. His journey from that stage to the soft, heroic boy he becomes is messy and complex, but so meaningful.

44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar Truly, my favorite part of this precious boy, the most defining Tate trait. He just… doesn’t speak much.

It’s not that he’s not good with words, or doesn’t pay much attention--Tate is pretty damn eloquent when he wants to be, and is observant to a fault. He’s merely incredibly selective with when and how he uses his words, which is a very distinctive contrast from Tommy’s frequent need to say something. Tate is fully capable of getting his point across with his body language and expression alone, or lets his brother do the talking for both of them.

To some extent, this is his nature, to be quiet and lean more into the nonverbal, but it was certainly exacerbated by the conditions he grew up under. In dealing with Malcolm and any sort of League business, Tate’s instinctive defense was to keep silent and speak only when expected--typically in response to or in clarification of orders. Quiet became less of something calming and wanted; and more of a necessity, a protection, a falling-in-line.

Tate may speak more often--not by much, but somewhat--in better times, but that’s because he feels comfortable and free enough to do so, and he’s leagues from being as talkative as Tommy. Still, even his silence is different, more expressive of his current mood instead of just serving as white noise, a smothering and muting of his feelings.

57. What do they do when they are happy? Tate is just a very tactile, huggy guy when he allows himself to be, and that often becomes particularly clear when he’s in a good mood. The happier he is, the more octopus-like he gets with his clinginess, but it’s sweet.

Either that, or he just dives head-first into his love of tea--making it, organizing his collection of it, buying more of it...

64. Do they like to dance? If he’s asked, Tate won’t answer that question--he’ll just silently raise his eyebrows and stare pointedly back at whoever brought it up. (If it’s Oliver or Roy, there’s another layer to the look, a clear returning of the question to them in challenge.)

The truth of it is yes, he does like to dance if the music and time are right, but he looks like a suburban dad at a barbecue when he does and he’s well aware of that fact. Better to act like he’s a townsperson from Footloose than hint that he even attempts to have a sense of rhythm.

70. Do they like themselves? Oof.

Tate… he’s done things. Granted, most of them were because he never actually had a choice unless he was willing to risk the consequences (if he was the assured sole recipient of them, he’d be more likely to; unfortunately, this was rarely ever the case, so Tate would fall in line for Tommy’s sake), but Tate is still accountable for how they went down. For as much as he can attribute his actions to trying to keep himself and his brother alive and free from as much harm as is avoidable, there’s still literal blood on his hands.

The thing that burns Tate the most, though, is the one decision he made of his own volition with the direct intention of hurting Tommy--again, for his safety, but that doesn’t make it any better. While the twins reconcile and rebuild their brotherhood even stronger than before, it’s still a blackened spot in their history even with the truth of it unraveled.

The question of whether or not Tate likes himself will be met with a vehement no for longer than anyone around him might expect, even as he gets more comfortable in his new life and knits himself into a group of people he can trust and who care. It’s recovery from the harm of the past, but Tate won’t feel comfortable in saying he likes himself until he figures out who that even is.

It’ll take time, but one day he’ll have a positive response.

80. How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse? Oh, Tate has the necessary skills down pretty darn well, knife expert ex-assassin and survivalist that he is. His biggest problem in that situation would just be the bitter frustration that he spent nearly 20 years of his life just trying to make it through a terrible situation, and he gets out only to be dumped into this? It’s another long fight for his life, which is disheartening for a guy who’s finally let himself admit that he just wants a chance to actually live. But he’ll handle it with grim determination, and hopefully with his brother at his side.

92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? Tate wouldn’t say much of anything here--he rarely ever needs words to express himself to the fullest.

Depending on the timeline--even solely focused on his better days--the number of people he’d want to see varies (thankfully, it grows as the years pass). But if he’s on a tight time limit and can only choose a few, then it’s without a doubt Tommy and Felicity. The three of them are the core found family (well, the twins are obviously twins, but still), the foundation of Tate’s life free of his father’s plans. And all Tate would want from his last minutes is to have the two of them present, to hold and be held in a tight group hug.

Tate is truly a simple man--just give him his people and a hug, and he can make peace with the situation.

100. Are they a day, or night person? Tough to say with Tate. For most of his life, he’d never really had that luxury--he’d be up at the asscrack of dawn or wide awake under the night sky depending on what was required of him. He’s adaptable by necessity.

But if we look to his better future… he’s still kind of middle-ground. He’ll generally be up at a reasonable definition of early in the morning, but also likes to take naps around the house when it’s particularly sunny and he’s not busy. Likewise, Tate will be fully alert at night for the amount of time he needs to be (whether it’s for crime-fighting-related activities, or just movie night), but will pass out the second he drops onto his bed, if he feels safe and comfortable enough with his surroundings to do so.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #and cries about Distortion 'verse #and yells about her sweet boy Tate #truly I have not had my heart stolen by an original character like this ever before

2 notes · View notes

trickstarbrave · 4 years ago

Note

Question, why are your dice so expensive? I could buy several chessex sets for the price of one set of yours and I don't see the appeal at all. Why are you making them so expensive and then expecting people to buy them up? If you wan't actual customers I just think you should pay more attention to the price dice actually go for than jacking them up so high. Not to mention this isn't a great time to be asking people to buy expensive things like that... It's selfish.

first of all these arent chessex dice. if you want mass produced dice go right ahead, i own a lot of them too. theres nothing wrong with buying and collecting just that and if you want a lot of nice sets theyre a good way to go. but mine are not mass produced, and the reason mass produced sets are so cheap overall is because they are, well mass produced. you make a lot of them. the molds to make them and the big machinery are investments larger companies make in order to make a lot of dice. when you divide up those costs between hundreds upon THOUSANDS of sets of dice its not that much.

my dice are handmade. im not saying you should buy them because theyre handmade if handmade means nothing to you. but because theyre handmade i can do a lot of things mass production cant do, like different effects, inclusions, and having sharp edges polished. again theres also a lot of effects only mass produced dice can have as well, so its not like i can do anything and there are pros and cons to each. but if youre asking the appeal, well then there are certain things youre only going to be able to get handmade.

and because theyre handmade theyre more expensive expensive. if i charged what chessex does for theirs done nearly fully by machine i would be paying myself 2 dollars or less per hour and thats not even factoring into costs of materials or equipment. i have to hand make the molds, hand mix and pour small amounts of resin, i have to hand place tiny little embeds, i have to cut sprues and sand edges all by hand (before i would use a power tool a bit and do for other things now). i had to buy custom masters 3-d printed. i had to buy a pressure pot and air compressor so i could stop having failed casts filled with bubbles because of temperature fluctuations. i had to invest in sandpaper, polishing papers, a dremel. i had to buy silicone, and failed at making molds sometimes and had to eat that cost. i had to learn how to cast resin, different mold making methods and why they worked, how to sand and polish epoxy, how to use different materials. i had to buy every inclusion, all the resin, all the pigments and mica powders. and this doesn’t include the time i have to take to make every listing, photograph dice, social media management, and more. this is something i like doing yes but i cant just spend so much money on equipment and then just give them all away for basically free.

and lastly i do know dice prices. i kinda have to. every single price increase was due to better equipment and learning, better materials, and done to try and adequately pay myself for my labor. i’m still, at best, getting about 10 bucks an hour which in many places isn’t that great and isn’t enough to survive on. im making what is barely a livable minimum wage from years of training and experimenting and honing a craft. and its not perfect, no! my dice probably arent the best you can buy handmade. there are people better than me and people who have been doing it longer. which is why mine are about middle of the road for handmade sets. ive seen them go as cheap as 25 bucks a set to 150 bucks a set. 60-70 is about where i feel rn is comfortable for the amount of time i put into it and my skill level.

again i also cant tell you to buy from me rn. i get money is tight. i get theres a lot going on. ive also made donations, ive been unsure of things during covid. many people have lost their homes, or dont have proper food. if you can afford my dice i am not mad at you or upset, right now shit sucks. maybe you can never justify that much money on a dice set, i get it. i dont know you and dont need your lifes story. i dont want to make you feel you need to sacrifice even more to buy them if you dont want to or even cant and im not trying to pressure you into it.

but i cant fix all of these problems and i am not some multimillionaire demanding you cough up as much money as possible so i can hoard more wealth like a dragon. im a disabled lesbian. i was trying to be employed before this though a work program and that was set on hold as most places closed down entirely, and i sure as hell am going to be one of the last people anyone wants to give a job to in reopening. this is basically all i have to make money atm. and while times are tough i feel for some people things like a want for art or entertainment wont die. theres still ppl buying video games and art commissions and nice clothes. just right now a lot of people who would probably love to cant. and since i have no money i cant buy any of that other stuff rn either (luckily my gf and roommate have jobs so we can afford things like, food and rent).

again buy chessex or any other brand of mass produced dice if you want to. if you dont care for expensive kinds dont buy them. im not going to force you to or guilt you into it. spend your money how you want to. the post was mainly so people who like that kind of thing and have the money for it can see it and make that decision for themselves. and if you personally dont like my stuff you can buy from another handmade seller if you decide you trust them more, i dont mind. im just... tryin to get by. making some dice. seeing if anyone will buy them so maybe i can make more bc there Isnt Much Else I Can Do Like This.

tl;dr: dont buy my dice then and buy cheaper dice it doesnt hurt my feelings if you dont want to/cant buy what i make im not your mom i cant tell you what to do???? i am just trying to get by im an artist and im disabled idk what u want ME to do exactly in this equation

#Anonymous

4 notes · View notes

lailelizabeth · 5 years ago

Link

Not too long after we shot actress Elizabeth Lail for a fashion story and on location in very very cold New York City, we got cozy at our HQ to record this podcast.

Eloquent + fully present...talented, beautiful, and smart Elizabeth embodies all the qualities of a big star. She’s an actors actor, and, well, just a wonderful person. She’s rapidly built a loyal fan base, due to the cult following of Netflix series You and her character on the series, Beck.

And so we decided on this podcast to include some truly terrific questions from those very fans. We discuss her reverence for her craft, what to expect from You Season 2, her character, Leah, in beautiful indie film Unintended, and what it’s like to work on the set of a horror film. We talk her commitment to sustainability, her footwear of choice, her favorite books on acting, recommendations for what to catch on broadway, how she preps her skin before shooting, her idea of a perfect date night, and more. Listen in to hear the answers to all of your fan questions!

Podcast link

Tamara Rappa: So you studied acting in North Carolina. What's it like being in school for acting, and were there ever plans to come to New York for school?

Elizabeth Lail: I went to University of North Carolina School of the Arts for high school my senior year, and that molded my whole trajectory because, all of a sudden, I was surrounded by fellow artists. I was surrounded by my people. I didn't really know what the possibilities were in my small town. There aren't very many actors coming out of it. I fell in love with the school, so I wanted to go to college there. I drank all the Kool-Aid. I think I applied to maybe one school in New York, but the dream was to continue at the School of the Arts, and then move to New York or LA---I wasn't sure which.

TR: What do your friends do? Are they other actors? Other creatives?

EL: I would say it's split down the middle. You know, some people are really anti-actor…

TR: They are? Like friends from home, from a long time ago?

EL: I know people who are like, "Oh, I try to be around normal people."

TR: You're very normal.

EL: Oh, thank you. I love actors and I love artists. And then I love dentists and business people....

TR: You have a mixed group of friends.

EL: Totally.

TR: How does acting feed your soul?

EL: It's probably my number one source of food. It demands the truth from me, and so it's this really intense bullshit meter for me as a person, and as an instrument. It provides intense catharsis, I'm always questioning and challenging myself. It also demands that I be fully present.

TR: That's beautiful. Have you always wanted to act? I mean, were you a small child dreaming of this? What's your first memory of "I want to be a performer?"

EL: I didn't, again, know what the possibilities were at such a young age, but my sister and I were making home movies, and I would play every character in the movie. We had the board game Clue, and we loved that movie. So I played every character in Clue along with the board game. I'd be the Professor, and then Miss Scarlet. I wore a big sheet. So I guess I've been doing it forever, and I didn't realize until maybe I was 14 that that it could be a career path.

TR: What other things do you do to exercise your creativity, or is all your focus on acting these days? You've got a lot going on.

EL: Well I do take acting class, and I love it. It depends on the class, but if you find a teacher that you really love, it feels like going to church for your artistic spirit. But I feel like everything feeds my acting. Even just riding the subway. The more present I am in my real life, the more inspiration I'm taking in. I like to see theater. I like to be inspired by watching other things. I journal a lot, and also any kind of emotional response or anything I'm inspired by---I write down. I find later that it will tend to tie in with something I need for a character, or you just never know. So the world is so inspirational to me. Travel…everything feeds the actor's spirit, I think.

TR: How do you journal? Do you literally write things down? It's not in a Notes app on your phone? It's a book that you keep by your bedside?

EL: It's a book. I've got one in my bag. I have a light one for walking around, but I have a big, big, heavy one at home. Usually I journal first thing in the morning. It's usually stream of consciousness.

TR: Morning pages?

EL:Yeah. It's a little bit like The Artist's Way, morning pages, but I don't necessarily follow any strict kind of order. And sometimes, it's gratitude. Sometimes it's stream of consciousness, and then sometimes I feel like something is trying to speak to me.

TR: Ideas.

EL: Ideas, yeah. That's why it's always kind of worth going back to the page because you never really know what's going to reveal itself to you. And even sometimes if I'm working on a scene in the morning during that writing time, it just comes.

TR: Wow. That's powerful.

EL: It's what is wanting to be worked on, in my unconscious brain.

TR: A powerful tool. What does the book look like? Where do you get this book? This big, beautiful, heavy book?

EL: You know what's interesting about that one, it was a gift from Ferragamo, so it actually is really beautiful. But normally, journals find you. They're given to you or you buy one and you forget to use it, and then you're like, ‘oh, I have this great journal.’ They are untapped potential.

TR: Describe how your fame came on. What was it like hitting a million followers and acquiring a fan base? What is it like? Do you detach from it in some way?

EL: Oh boy, you know. I'm a little detached from it.

TR: You have to just keep being you, and doing the work.

EL: Yes. I think I was more excited when I got like 500,000 followers. That was a big milestone. And then after that you're like, ‘I'm still figuring this out, how am I going to use Instagram? What does it mean to me? How is this going to be a part of my work?’ I’m a little conflicted, because there's a school of thought where the more people know about you, the more exposure you have, the less believable you are as a character. All of a sudden your mystique goes away.

TR: Right. There are some actors that could never do certain roles, because they're so known for ...

EL: ...for something. And they certainly can do those roles. But it might take the audience a minute to readjust their brains.

EL: But obviously I have Instagram, and mostly I'm just really grateful. I think kind of hitting the million mark, in a way, could be really wonderful for my career. But I don't know that yet. You know, the hope is that people cast you based off of your work. And if you can serve the project with any kind of like following ...

TR: 100%. And, visibility.

EL: Visibility. Yes. Then it’s a great thing. That's always a great thing. Especially if you're making something smaller that really means something to you, that maybe needs a platform to get the word out. So it's exciting.

TR: Well, I will say, you have some lovely fans. And they've got some wonderful questions for you that we’re going to get to.

EL: I do. Oh, exciting!

TR: How are we seeing Beck in season two of You? And how is the series different this season?

EL: I mean, she’s back-ish. Right? Beck is back-ish. What was really cool about shooting season two though, is that we were in LA, which is very different than New York. And I would be in full Beck gear.

TR: Let’s talk about that. What is full Beck gear? What is Beck's look?

EL: Excellent question. Beck has curled hair that's meant to be kind of like undone, yet done. It's a little shorter than mine at the moment, and she always wears lots of jewelry. She has a staple necklace that's beautiful.

TR: What is the staple necklace exactly?

EL: It is a half moon with a diamond in it. It's made by Melissa Joy Manning.

TR: I love Melissa Joy Manning. She's a friend of mine. I love her jewelry.

EL: She's amazing. No way. I’ve become such a fan.

TR: We should go meet her. I could use a new piece from her!

EL: Yes we should go to her shop in Brooklyn. I've never been and I've been wanting to go, and I have really beautiful pieces from her. And obviously Beck would not be able to have a Melissa Joy Manning necklace, but in the world of television, she does! Beck is very much jeans. She likes a French tuck, and some kind of jacket. She's a little bit more small-town-dresser, I think, for someone who lives in New York. Keeping it pretty simple and as affordable as possible is Beck's look. And then boots, she's a boot girl. I would be in LA in the Beck getup, and people would recognize me as her and they would get so excited. That's something that's really different. Obviously when we were shooting season one, people were, you know, ‘what are you making? What's happening here?’

TR: In which parts of LA would you shoot?

EL: We were in Los Feliz, when we would go out in the world. And then in the Atwater village area.

TR: So that's a main difference between season one and season two, location.

EL: Yeah. And those are pretty defining. New York and LA are very defining cities, experience-wise. Have you spent a lot of time in LA? I have. I feel like I've lived there.

TR: I'm a native New Yorker and I lived in LA for years.

EL: My thoughts are that in LA, they have great food. Because I'm a vegan, and it's lovely to eat there.

TR: You can find fantastic food in LA.

EL: Healthy food everywhere. But I prefer New York. I'm much more inspired by New York.

TR: Everyone can watch you in the wonderful indie film, Unintended. It's currently on cable, Direct TV, Prime Video, iTunes, Google play.[Everyone] should see this film. It's terrific. Was it draining playing someone so mentally tormented and well, drug addicted? She was sort of addicted to her medication.

EL: Yes. It is draining, but I think acting is draining in general because you are giving so much of yourself. And that aspect, yes, because she is kind of always in this state of distress.

TR: That's what it is. It's more than being mentally tortured. Your character Leah is in a state of distress.

EL: She’s kind of figuring out her life. I would really have to go home and just do absolutely nothing every day.

TR: Is that right?

EL: That's the key. You just go home, you shower, you eat a little dinner and then you read, you do something else. Something nice for yourself.

TR: The production itself is beautiful, and I love how it contrasts with some of the difficult subject matter like physical abuse, alcoholism, painful divorce. Where did you shoot? It was beautiful.

EL: We were in Kingston, in and around Kingston, in upstate New York, in Minnewaska State Park. I love it up there. Since we've shot there, I go visit that area twice a year.

TR: It's a magical location.

EL: It's beautiful and all those little towns, you know, Woodstock, and Kingston---they all have cute restaurants. And then there's nature. I think when you live in New York you forget that.

TR: All of it is...

EL: ...so close by.

TR: In Unintended, Leah travels upstate with her father at one point in the film, but ends up spending her days there with longtime friend, Sam. How did she explain that to her father? We see her traveling upstate with her father, and he's going off to do a conference of some sort, and then she ends up spending a few days with Sam. Does she just decide that that's how she's going to spend her time upstate, because she needs some questions answered?

EL: Exactly. I think that her relationship with Sam is maybe closer to an actual father than her relationship with her dad. Sam was a little bit older. He was always kind of around, almost like a babysitter at times for her when she was young.

TR: And he was nurturing to her in some ways. He would feed her.

EL: He nurtured that wild and uninhibited spirit. And not that her parents weren't there. I just think that once the divorce happened, that was her breaking point, and she kind of shut down. That's the beginning of the shut-down, as early as their divorce when she's 11, or I guess she's 13. She's young. I think her relationship with her dad is strained. With her mom there's not a whole lot of communication going on, especially from her side, reasoning-wise.

TR: Did Leah shoot Bill? I wasn't sure.

EL: She didn’t. She did shoot the gun. I think it's meant to be unclear, but my understanding is that she didn't actually shoot him. It was just the fall that was so harsh for him, and so was being stuck down there. He basically was scared by the sound of the gun, and fell back into this cavern.

TR: What became of Leah's mother? Do we know?

EL: No she doesn't come up.

TR: I found that to be intriguing.

EL: I think it speaks to her current state. Her mother is somewhat villainized in the beginning, because she's the one having the affair. So she is essentially the one who breaks the family. And so I think that from Leah's perspective, her mom is not someone she wants to be close with. It’s such a painful break, especially if you felt like things were so stable for most of your life. So, yeah. We don't really know.

TR: What happens to Leah, do you think, after she finally understands this devastating time in her past and makes peace with Bill, what does she become? What does she go off and do in life?

EL: My hope is that she becomes an author of a novel. My hope is that she goes to therapy and moves back to nature, moves out of New York, becomes an author, and writes this story.

TR: Do she and Bill become a couple?

EL: I don't know. That's wishful movie magic thinking. Because he's got some issues. If they do become a couple, there are some struggles coming their way.

TR: And does she reconcile with her father?

EL: I hope so, I hope so. Sometimes I feel like the people we love the most are the last ones to get our grace and forgiveness and patience, so who knows?

TR: You also star in Countdown, recently in theaters. The horror film genre is hugely popular with people. What's the set of a horror film like?

EL: It's so fun. This one was so fun. It was exciting for me, because horror isn't necessarily my genre---I get really easily scared. And so if I'm going to watch a horror movie, it's got to be at home, where I can turn the sound off and block my eyes. But making one is really exciting because you get to do a lot of stunts, and there's all this incredible hair and makeup. Everyone was just so happy and grateful to be there. That's always the best set to be on, in any genre. To be with people who just love making movies.

TR: You were also a series regular on Video Syncrasy from David Fincher, based on the music industry and music videos in the eighties. Your character is a stylist’s assistant.

EL: But my character wanted to be a singer. She wanted to be Stevie Nicks.

TR: How did that project with David Fincher, a genius, come about?

EL: The show never saw the light of day. Sorry guys! You can't watch this.

TR: I watched a scene where you were unpacking garment bags and there's a garment rack behind you. I was like, ‘look at Elizabeth, living the story of my life’.

EL: I was so sore that day.

TR: The schlep of the fashion editor and the stylist...

EL: My shoulders were in pain. I think I got a massage therapist on that show, because it was so painful, carrying all the garment bags. And now when I see that in New York, I have a newfound respect.

TR: How did you first get interested in sustainability, and what do you do in your day to day life to create change?

EL: I became a vegan first and foremost almost four years ago, and that was really when I realized the environmental impact of animal agriculture. I was already vegetarian, because I love animals, and I thought, ‘I can do this, this can be my contribution’.

TR: Is there something specific that made you go from vegetarian to vegan?

EL: I saw Cowspiracy. It's a documentary.

TR: That's on my list. I haven't seen it yet.

EL: And of course everyone who watches says, ‘I'm going to become vegan.’ And maybe they do it for a week. It can be very difficult to do. And everyone I watched it with were like, ‘we're all going to do it’. I think I'm still the only one doing it. That was my beginning of living a more mindful life. It immediately requires you to be more mindful about what you're eating, which before, was a pretty mindless practice for me.

TR: For a lot of people I think.

EL: All of a sudden you become a little more mindful about, ‘What am I buying? How much waste am I creating? What am I only using once? What am I doing with my clothes?’ The whole world opens up, and all these questions come at you.

EL: On my Obsixed list, is the Package Free store. It opened in my neighborhood and I walked in, I was like, ‘this is amazing’. You start picking things up and you're like, ‘I didn't realize there was another option for cotton swabs, for taking off my makeup’. I didn't realize how much waste I was creating in my beauty routine. That's a huge thing. I'm definitely a victim of the skincare obsession. The good news is, like anything, you just do little things at a time. I think the first thing I got was a reusable mug and I love it. I have a KeepCup. Aesthetically, it's very pretty. And I have a S’well water bottle. Those are the easiest changes to make because, especially in New York, you just put them in your tote bag and the coffee shop remembers you. They know your order, they're like, ‘here's the girl with her own cup’. You'd be surprised, everyone is very down to make those kinds of changes. You just start saying no to moments of single use plastic or straws. I'm at the beginning of that journey and that's why I'm obsessed with it right now, because I'm exploring. I'm becoming very aware, and hoping to do so much more.

TR: We have your Obsixed list of current obsessions [listed below], but let’s also do a lighting round of favorites. Favorite food?

EL: Enchiladas.

TR: Favorite way to spend date night?

EL: Reading on the couch by a fireplace.

TR: Favorite way to prepare for a first day of shooting on set?

EL: Eye masks. I use a lot of Skyn Iceland

TR: Favorite movie? Can you even pick?

EL: In Bruges or The Road to El Dorado.

TR: Favorite skincare item?

EL: I love Dr. Hauschka's Rose Day Cream. I love the way that it smells. It makes me happy. You have to press it into your skin, so you have to go slow, and you're like, 'oh, this is a moment for me'.

TR: Favorite type of shoe to wear?

EL: Flat. My initial instinct is flat, but really comfortable. Comfort boots probably, that you can just slide on.

TR: Go-to dress up look?

EL: High waisted pants and some black pretty shirt and boots.

EL: Favorite holiday tradition?

EL: I make cookies with my grandmother. We make sugar cookies with decorative icing. It's actually really hard, because we make hundreds of cookies.

TR: Now we're onto some fan questions. From @kpaoletti19: “What's something you're proud of, that's happened this past year?”

EL:Those questions are so hard for me. Someone recently asked me what I was proud of and I didn't have an answer, but I realized they were asking me specifically about work, and it's because I can be my worst critic. But I will say, what I'm realizing is there are moments in every job where I have real moments of truth; where lightning strikes. I'm always proudest of those, because I think ‘you were there, and you were available to be worked through’.

TR: Also from @kpaoletti19, “Do you have advice when it comes to relationships? “

EL: I would say the best thing you can do is be super true to yourself and advocate for yourself really early on, so they know what they're working with. As opposed to, you know, when we first start dating someone, we want to be really pleasing and the perfect girlfriend. We just want to be easy. Maybe you are easy, but you're not always going to be easy.

TR: Be who you are.

EL: Have your opinions, have your likes, have your dislikes, and have them without shame.

TR: @elizabethlailfans asks: “Which of the characters that you've played, do you think most closely relates to you, and why?” I mean you've played some pretty intense characters. Maybe the answer is, none of them? Are there any who have a personality trait that you feel is like one of your own?

EL: They're all pretty different from me. I want to say Beck from You is the closest, but she's not really. Her choices are not really my choices. The things we have in common are age, that we’re artists, New York--- the really basic things. But when my mom was watching it, she was like, this isn't the woman I raised. She was like, ‘get some self esteem!’

TR: Another one, “What's your favorite memory from any set you've worked on?”

EL: Oh, I have so many. It's always the people. I create such joyful moments with all these incredible people and then they become your close friends. So I don't know if I can name a single one. There was a moment on Countdown where we came onto the set, this is kind of funny and gross, and it smelled like fish and we were like, what is going on here? Why does it smell like fish? Someone had used a set toilet, a fake toilet.

TR: That’s a really funny story. @elizabethlailfans also says “take care of yourself. We love you, and are proud of you always”.

EL: Aw right back at you, right back.

TR: @elizabethlailbr had a ton of great questions for you, including "Any new projects you can hint at?”

EL: Yeah, she's great. I don't know if I'm allowed to hint at them yet. But yes, don't worry, they're coming.

TR: One from me now: why did you change your Instagram handle?

EL: Everyone's upset! So my team was afraid that people weren't able to find me, because I had a random handle. [@elizaboon] And I will say, sometimes when someone contacts me on Instagram, they end up calling me Eliza, which is totally fine. That's like a nickname. They’d assume my name is Eliza, which was kind of fun. That's fine, I'm open. As long as it's not Beth, I'll respond to it.

TR: Do you have any nicknames?

EL: Some people call me Lizzy, Liz. Most people call me Lail, especially on a set; they go to sporting last name vibes. And then my best friend calls me Bell. It started out as Liz Bell and now it's just Bell. And then E Lib is the new one that's catching on.

TR: @elizabethlailbr asks: “How was it shooting with Story + Rain?”

EL: So fun.

TR: Fun and cold.

EL: Very cold, but it's much colder today, so I'm grateful for the day we had. It was cold but it was sunny.

TR: "Can you recommend theater to see or books on acting?” Also from @elizabethlailbr.

EL: Yes. Books on acting. I would read Uta Hagen's Respect for Acting. I would read Larry Moss, The Intent to Live, those are two incredible ones. They’re kind of old school and new school. Theater to see: I would see Jagged Little Pill on Broadway if you can. And then The Sound Inside, with Mary Louise Parker and Will Hochman. That's a wonderful play. And Sing Street, at New York Theater Workshop. I haven't seen it yet, but I really want to see it, and a friend of mine is in it. So that's on my list.

TR: One more: “Are you working with any new organizations within sustainability, or otherwise?”

EL: I’m working with the New York City Department of Sanitation. It’s cool because these are the real deal people. They want to make sure everyone knows how to get rid of waste, how to dispose of compost and garbage correctly, what is actually recyclable--- and all those sorts of things. And they're doing a Refashion week in February. They do upcycling fashion shows and have designers create sustainable looks.

TR: How do you feel about fashion in general?

EL: I am a fashion appreciator. I’m not necessarily that knowledgeable about the inside of the world of fashion, but every time I go to a fashion show I'm always blown away.

TR: Which shows have you seen?

EL: Self-Portrait. That one was so good. And then last year I got to go to Vogue CFDA. That was incredible. I just love being at the shows. I like the performance. It’s not surprising that, of course what I respond to is the performance of fashion.

TR: How do you feel about your costumes, how important are they?

EL: Very important.

TR: When you put on a costume as a character, even as Beck, in jeans and a sweater, or like Leah, do you transform instantly?

EL: 100% yeah. What your character decides to wear is, I think, very informative. So I think fashion in that sense is extremely important.

TR: Last question, still from @eilzabethlailbr: “What do you still feel like you need to accomplish in your career?” You have a huge career ahead of you, but is there something on your immediate list that you're thinking about these days?

EL: I've been thinking about these things because it's almost the new year, and it's time to write out a manifestation list.

TR: Do you put it in that big notebook, or is there a separate manifestation bible?

EL: I used to just rip it out of the notebook and put it away in my little box. And this year, I read that you should burn it. You should trust that your desires have been heard and are being met in the best way. So that's my plan this year. We'll see how it goes. There are a thousand things that I still want to do in my career, so I'm hoping this is just the beginning. I want to be an actor until I'm 89.

TR: How do you feel about film versus television? Things have changed so much in terms of TV.

EL: I really love both of them. I will say there's nothing like being in a movie theater; it changes the experience. It demands a little bit more of your attention, for better or for worse.

TR: There's ceremony attached to it, ritual.

EL: I like ritual, so I like that. But I love being a part of all of it: film, television, and theater. They're all worthwhile.

#elizabeth lail #elizabeth dean lail #article #interview #podcast #you netflix #unintended #mp

5 notes · View notes

putschki1969 · 5 years ago

Note

at least we agree that Space Craft and SMEJ is evil. Too busy schedules and events little time to rest, too many demands for new soundtracks leads to less creativity between new releases. and the ultimate one is causing yk to leave and kalafina disband. but better leave than stay in that evil place no ? only wakana left.

Hi there!

Sorry, you misunderstood me. I was being sarcastic when I said this ☟

I actually DO NOT think that they are evil. In fact I find it ridiculous when people are demonizing them. They might be many things but they are definitely NOT evil. A strong-minded person like YK wouldn’t have stayed with them for such a long time if they were evil. And Wakana also wouldn’t have chosen to stay with them if they were as bad as everyone makes them out to be. People need to stop with all these silly conspiracy theories.

I have discussed this topic many times in the past. They are an agency and as such they see everything from a business point of view. For them earning money is the most important thing and hey, that’s okay. Of course they will come up with busy schedules and of course they want new releases on a regular basis. That’s what brings in money. Believe me, Wakana, Keiko and Hikaru knew what they were getting into when they decided to become singers. They might have been a little naive at first but after more than a decade in the business they definitely know how the industry works. The same goes for YK of course.

As for the reason YK left…While none of this has been officially confirmed, YK has revealed enough for me to be more or less sure things went down this way...In the past, Mori-san (a former manager of Space Craft) gave YK free rein to do whatever she wanted. He knew that the only way to work with her was to give her complete creative freedom. Back in the day they pretty much let her do whatever she wanted. The only thing they did control was Kalafina’s marketing and that was actually a good thing because if they hadn’t worked so hard on Kalafina’s popularity they wouldn’t have made it that far. Whenever people complain about Kalafina having become too “mainstream” or too “idolish” I find it ridiculous. After all it’s those aspects that made them known to a wider audience, that allowed them to perform at bigger venues, that made it possible for them to travel to foreign countries and to stay together for an entire decade. YK was never a big fan of that “mainstream” route but she accepted it to a certain degree.

Anyways, we are getting a little side-tracked here. Let’s continue with Mori-san…Once he had left Space Craft things went downhill. YK obviously had some artistic differences with the remaining higher ups of Space Craft. They probably wanted to have more control over what she did (as agency they are entitled to that) but YK isn’t the type of person to let herself be controlled (neither should she). This led to her leaving which in turn resulted in Kalafina’s disbandment. I think we can all agree that that wasn’t a smart move from Space Craft. But just because they have made and are still making stupid decisions doesn’t mean they are inherently evil. It makes them incompetent at best but that’s something almost all the talent agencies in Japan have in common. You will be hard pressed to find a really good agency in that industry. From the looks of it, Space Craft is a pretty decent agency compared to others. They are rather small and the people in the management seem to be pretty close to their clients. It makes sense that Wakana would choose to stay with them. She always speaks fondly of her manager and all the staff members. While their main motive is definitely money they seem to be genuinely interested in the well-being of their clients. And hey, the people at Space Craft can apparently make good choices too! After all, they did decide to bring in Victor Entertainment to take care of a majority of the management stuff. That was definitely a good idea. Wakana’s music is more accessible than Kalafina’s has ever been. For her most recent event they are using a new ticket system which makes it much easier for foreign fans to obtain a concert ticket. All of this is progress and I am sure things will continue to move forward…

So yeah, my point is, stop demonizing Space Craft. And STOP demonizing Wakana for staying with Space Craft. She knew what she was doing when she made that choice. Respect that choice and move on!

#kalafina #wakana #reply #space craft #yuki kajiura #Anonymous

11 notes · View notes

drkandraz · 7 years ago

Text

Why Hirohiko Araki Is a Great Writer

Note: add writing saying “I am only going to be addressing JoJo because 1) I have not read his older works, 2) His works before and including Phantom Blood lack what I am talking about here and 3) I include JoJo spin-off manga under the “JoJo” moniker”

As the man behind one of the most influential manga of all time, Hirohiko Araki is already a highly praised writer and artist. However, I believe what lies at the heart of Araki-sensei’s writing style is not explored often enough. What I think are the most important factors in the writing of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure are the extremes to which the author takes his creative freedom and his skill in writing relationships between people.

Phantom Blood is the most conventional part of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. It has a structure very similar to other shounen manga at the time: hero has a rivalry, rival becomes obscenely powerful, hero learns martial art to defeat rival, ally dies, other ally narrates, hero wins etc. Phantom Blood’s writing only succeeds in the outlandish concepts introduced throughout: vampires appearing as a consequence of mayan blood rituals with magical stone masks, vampires somehow sucking blood by introducing their fingers inside a human’s skin, the power of the sun channeled (or created) by breathing, medieval warrior zombies, people being cleft in half by chains… frog punching. What also comes out here is a hint of the strategic battles the series will come to be known for, with Dio’s defeat at the hands of a burning sword.

A lot of the quality of the writing comes in the relationship between Jonathan and Dio, two characters who could not be more polar opposites who supposedly die together. While Jonathan is a typical nice guy shounen protagonist, Dio is a somewhat complex villain; he is irredeemably evil, but not unjustifiably so.

The decision to change protagonists was in itself an unheard of prospect at the time, each part bringing its own atmosphere and self-contained storyline, facts which allow Araki-sensei to explore all of them at length.

In comparison, Battle Tendency goes completely off the rails. If Phantom Blood is a cautious dip into the water, then Battle Tendency is a cannonball jump right into the deep end. This is where JoJo starts going from typical shounen manga to a manga characterized by battles of wits and skill rather than of pure brawn; and this change is reflected in its protagonist. Where Jonathan was the perfect gentleman who would never face his enemy anything less than head-on, Joseph likes to screw with his opponents’ heads. To show this change in character, his first major fight is against an enemy comparable to Dio, who is taken out a lot more easily thanks to Joseph’s fighting style. The insanity present in Phantom Blood is taken up to 11: the vampires are mere distractions to the new Pillar Men, Nazis are turned into Cyborgs and Hamon now apparently works on bubbles.

The relationship built between Joseph and Caesar is perhaps the most natural growth displayed in the series until this point. Their friendship grows gradually and culminates not with perfect teamwork, but with a realistic ideological fight between the two, one that Joseph would come to regret for many years to come. Caesar’s death is one of the most natural and powerful scenes in manga history, from the desperate dedication he displays even in his final moments, to Wamuu’s respect for him and to Joseph’s desperate cry for his best friend.

Stardust Crusaders is the start of Araki-sensei’s complete creative control. Stands now allow him to explore any fun and interesting idea he has in battles and to make stands that fit with their characters. The change of the format from single story to monster of the week supports the author’s writing style of throwing ideas at the wall and expanding them to his heart’s content. However, the clunkiness of his inexperience with such creative control is obvious. He is obviously pressured to come up with cool designs and powers for the stands (some of which he will later forget). In the second half of Part 3, getting used to the concept of stands, he starts writing interesting and fun ideas for his battles, like the D’Arby Brothers and Vanilla Ice. The insanity is punctuated by the increasing number of musical references (from Captain Tennille to Oingo Boingo).

Sadly, the characters take a backseat for the duration of this Part. Except for certain minor moments between the Crusaders, the characters don’t really have arcs (except for perhaps Iggy and Polnareff). For this reason, Jotaro, Kakyoin and Avdol are often criticized for having little to no character, which is a fair point. Jotaro himself is more of a superpowered version of the most barebone characteristics of Sherlock Holmes.

Dio’s return recontextualizes Part One as a tragedy rather than a story of sacrifice for the greater good, as well as making Part Three more of a culmination of generations of fighting rather than another story about saving the world. Jotaro vs Dio is still one of the best battles in shounen history because of the weight behind every single action the characters take feeling like the climax of the story.

Diamond is Unbreakable, in contrast to its predecessor, is not in the least an epic story about cleansing evil. It is, for the most Part, a slice of life. Therefore, its stand users have abilities more suited to everyday life (Bad Company notwithstanding), or rather their own special needs. The town of Morioh truly feels like a real (albeit bizarre) place, with a community comprised of people with their own personal goals. The advantage of Part 4 in Araki-sensei’s writing style consists of the fact that the author is no longer chained by the needs of the lengthy story structure that plagued Part 3. He himself pointed out in an interview that he could always go back to continue Part 4 if he wanted to (I could not find the interview again, sorry. If you can find it or correct me, it would be most appreciated).

The character’s relationships in DiU are quite evidently better defined than in Part 3. The main crew of Part 4 is smaller and it never feels restrained to keep everyone around at every point in the story (like Part 3 was somewhat forced to). In this way, characterization and character relationships are better crafted within stories that emphasize only those characters and relationships. Jousuke is never forced to be the main character of an episode; rather, he only is when the story demands it, making for a much better experience. Of note are Koichi, whose growth is signaled within his stand’s abilities, Rohan, whose growth is exhibited throughout the series and within his spin-off series, Joseph, whose appearance is bittersweet to old fans, as the sneaky and crafty Joseph becomes senile and unable to do anything worthwhile and Kira, whose chillingly normal demeanor doesn’t betray his dark tendencies.

After Part 4’s gleeful atmosphere, Part 5 dives right back into the horror-inspired roots of JoJo. Giorno Giovanna, Dio’s son, is a far more dark and cunning figure than Jousuke. Indeed, Giorno and the rebellious cell of Passione he becomes part of are a reflexion of past characters painted in a new, more sinister light, fitting with the new Mafia theme. They are a family, led by Bruno Bucciarati just as the Part 4 gang was led by Jotaro, but because of their jobs, they live in a world almost completely devoid of the fun antics of DiU. However, their relationships are just as well developed: Abbachio and Giorno’s one-sided rivalry is resolved organically, Bucciarati and Giorno’s hatred of immorality is what binds them together and Fugo’s “betrayal” is completely in character for him etc. As a villain, Diavolo is well written insofar as we recognize that his main attribute is his megalomania and his relationship with Doppio is magnificently fucked up in the best way possible.

The fights in Part 5 are brutal bouts for survival. The enemy stand users are trained assassins who will stop at nothing to get their revenge on The Boss. What makes this change even more effective is their motive for chasing the gang, the murder of their “family members” at the hands of Diavolo. Therefore, each ability is more valuable than each of the ones in Stardust Crusaders, since there are just a lot less of them. Each stand is that much more developed and consistent in its use (with the exception of King Crimson, but I’m not going on that rant right now) On the other hand, the concepts introduced for them are just that much more insane: a turtle in which one can enter by putting a key in a hole in its back, a stand that dehydrates everything at long range, a stand that can put zippers on anything etc.

Part 6 is a much more plot focused arc. The whole part focuses on Jolyne’s search for her father’s memory and stand discs with the help of Stone Ocean’s gang of reluctant helpers. This gang feels less like a pseudo-family, more like a bunch of people chasing their own goals and helping each other along the way. This, by the end of the story, is what will bring their demise at the hands of Pucci, Dio’s best friend. Despite this, I can’t say they are not well-written characters. Foo Fighters’, Weather Report’s and Pucci’s characters and arcs particularly are very compelling.

Within this story driven part, the villain of the week format just does not fit anymore. This is why, despite their great ideas and executions, a lot of villains from Stone Ocean are made forgettable especially by the ending, which left almost no hope for a direct continuation to be made. In many ways, it can be said that one of Araki-sensei’s strong points eclipsed the other one completely. The creative freedom which used to be a leading factor in why the series was so great was now taken to too many extremes (Looking at you, Heavy Weather and Bohemian Rhapsody) which detracted from the story more than they added.

On the other hand, the reboot Part 7 brought was exactly what JoJo needed, in my opinion. Now that stands had been grounded as more akin to abilities than the ghosts they were originally, there was no need to keep them as anything more than representations of the user’s skills. The bizarre nature of JoJo was also given almost complete freedom with the abolishment of continuity and concepts like stand arrows. Instead, Araki-sensei introduces pseudo-scientific and pseudo-philosophical concepts that fit in perfectly with JoJo. To explain the level of insanity, I will summarize the premise of SBR in one sentence: two men, one crippled and the other with the power of ball hamon, compete in a cross-country horse race in 1880s USA, while fighting dinosaurs and the president using powers granted by Jesus Christ. While the stand battles in the middle section are almost as forgettable as Part 6’s, it matters less because the most important aspect is the development of our two main characters.

The characterization in Part 7 is the best it’s ever been in JoJo. Johnny’s hopeful nihilism contrasts perfectly with Gyro’s playful jackassery. The main cast – now smaller than any that came before it – only consists of two characters (if we don’t include the very well written reccuring side characters). Every character gives a feeling of having their own agenda, while also each contributing to one side of the battle between Johnny and Gyro and President Valentine. Interestingly, Funny Valentine is probably right from an ideological stand point, which is an unexpected turn out from a mostly childish manga up to this point.

Part 8 brings Steel Ball Run’s ideological musings into the 21st century with a return to Morioh. Araki’s style has retained its mature edge, but shifted them into science-fiction territory. The characters retain the moral ambiguity found in Part 7. Jousuke would do anything for Yasuho, even torture somebody. Yet the familial aspect that had long been missing from JoJo returned in full force with the Higashikatas and their rival pseudo-family, the divided Rock Humans. This makes Joubin a perfect antagonist despite his seemingly underpowered ability.

The bizarre atmosphere of JoJo’s fourth part returns with the Shakedown Road and the Milagro Man arcs which have almost nothing to do with the overarching plot of the series, but enhance the sense of a world existing beyond the characters. The battles in JoJolion are realistic and brutal to the extent not even Vento Aureo was willing to go, despite the relative bizarreness of the enemies’ stands.

This is how Hirohiko Araki’s writing style changed over the years from simple and restrained to bold, philosophical, dark and bizarre. The overall mundanity of Hamon was slowly replaced by stands and other special abilities, allowing the author to indulge in outlandish ideas that complimented the intelligent, consistent and thoughtful structure of his battles. To conclude, I believe Hirohiko Araki is a great writer because of the balance between his strange, out there ideas and his calm and logical understanding of his concepts (with a few exceptions), combined with his ability for writing strong and believable arcs and relationships for characters.

Edit: If you want more details about the first four parts of JoJo, I wholeheartedly recommend Super Eyepatch Wolf’s videos on the subject, as he can go into much more detail in those.

2K notes · View notes

urbanwalee · 2 years ago

Text

Top 5 Tips To Choose Professional Painting Contractors In Jamshedpur

Are you excited to offer a new and fresh look to your home or office? If yes, then you must consider five things before hiring painting contractors. It’s a responsibility of a consumer to be educated about the service before allowing anybody to take over. - Pest Control Services in Jamshedpur

It doesn’t matter whether it is residential painting or commercial painting, it’s like a big investment. As this is not a regular happening thing, it takes place on a very special event like marriage, Diwali, inauguration, etc. So, consumers should be clear about his/her requirements, then only they can recruit the best painting contractors. There are multiple means to hire painting contractors but nowadays, most people prefer to search on google to hire home services.

House painting is one of the most important housekeeping projects. Maintaining and sealing home paints protects your home from the elements caused by water and the sun. Neglecting an exterior paint that is obviously peeling can result in high siding replacement costs. Exterior paint conditions also help govern the worth of the home. When the exterior paint of your home reflects a lot of care, a person who is considering buying a home is more certain that the same meticulous attention has been given to other areas of your home. Therefore, painting needs professionalism. When you add professionalism to any good/service, it enhances the value twofold. Therefore, we recommend you to always look for professional painting contractors. First of you need to understand the very term “Professional Painting”

Here we are presenting five tips to choose professional painting contractors

Demand Guaranteed Work

Guarantee corresponds to the quality of the work. After all, it's not your average contractor who gives you these things. Very attentive artists, both in their short term and long term results.

Remember that the difference between an oral guarantee and a script should be made clear. This is because there can be one painter who can only promise you one contract. For this reason, be sure to write a testimonial to the contractor.

Right price

During a home renovation project, it is important to obtain several quotes. The lowest quote isn't always what you want. When it comes to your next painting project, you want to be sure you get the support of a company that will offer you a fair price for the job, even if it isn't the lowest, as it indicates a degree of professionalism and honesty in the company. A service. Painters who charge more for “luxury services” and painters who keep their prices low because they use cheap products and save money in their work should be avoided at all costs.

Look For Experienced Contractors

In general, a company that has spent more time perfecting its craft than a new one can bring some level of technical knowledge as well as practical knowledge to your project. More experience also means fewer mistakes and less chance of mistakes of the type that will cause your whole project to fail, as these are likely issues that an experienced entrepreneur will experience.

Most painters who are members of associations are stable and committed to their profession. While online, try to determine how long the company has been in business. A whole new company is probably still fixing the problems. New companies don't always have the resources to take on large projects either.

A sustainable company, on the other hand, has survived the local competition. They have also learned from their mistakes over the years. In other words, you won't make costly mistakes while working on your painting project. Before hiring a painter, determine who will be working on your project. What is the experience rate? This helps to confirm that painters are safe and trustworthy.

Make sure they are licensed and insured

Another one of the best tips to choose professional painting contractors Make sure the companies on your list are licensed and insured if you keep looking for local painters. A business that covers commercial real estate requires a specific license. Some licenses are also specific to the type of project. Before hiring someone ensure the contractor must possess the correct license for your job.

What if someone is injured while working on your project? Do you have to pay the fees? If the business is insured, you don't have to worry. Take the time to ask if the company has extended social responsibility. Otherwise, you may need to take responsibility for accidents. Learn more about reports for painters here. One of the best tips to choose professional painting contractors.

Check their materials

Ask the painter what materials he would like to use for your office. If you choose cheap and inferior materials, the color may fade after a few years. Exposure to the elements and the sun can cause the exterior paint to fade much faster. Look for a contractor who uses quality materials. It is important to note that the materials used will factor into your estimate. You pay for what you get. If you want the paint job to last a long time, look for a company that values quality. Otherwise, you might have to call them back in a few years.

These are the five essential tips to choose professional painting contractors. You can even address Urbanwale to hire professional painting contractors.

For More Info: On Demand Home Service Provider

0 notes

escapedartgeek · 3 years ago

Note

📘 » what is a memory that makes your character feel proud ? describe the memory .

Pride, the feeling of feeling accomplished, the feeling of having that kind of self-assured...confidence in what they have managed to do.

It would be wrong to say that Zora is unfamiliar with the idea, although it tends to mostly come up in a specific aspect of their life. In what they do, in what they craft. In the sheer amount of energy and dedication that they put into challenging themselves, pushing the limits of what they are able to create.

It's easy for them to think about their first shows, especially the ones that they were still trying to find somewhere to fit.

Of course, they hadn't recognized how much of an impossibility that is in many ways.

No, it's too easy to consider those memories. For something that they are proud of - they sometimes take comfort in the acts of refusal. In the sense of boundaries that they set in terms of how they create and who they create for.

They remembered being around a group who were eager, clearly determined to get their work anywhere it could be displayed. And to a certain extent, they understood. They were also incredibly focused about getting their artwork out there, on getting the eyes - making people see what they were capable of making.

The rumors had started to pour in though, of a place that was opening, a place that seemed to be where everyone wanted to go. Wanted to be. A place that surely would launch some of these creatives into a realm that they so deeply aimed for. Trying to go for the stars, to make legends out of them - having their names on others' lips for decades. That was the hope. And the sheer exclusivity of this establishment felt like it would be foolish for anyone to refuse the opportunity.

Still, as Zora made their little visits, investigating how it worked and how eager people were to get in - something sank in them. This was one of the lines that they would have to draw, they knew it. They could feel it in the atmosphere, in the behavior of the curators. In the weird condescension that they had picked up on - while once again being pretty early. And the idea was get these new artists out there, see which ones they could mold into their perfect little avatar of creativity in an approved form.

All of this had them reeling with agitation from their experiences, and deeply alienated from the excitement that they felt from those .. awed, inspired or even impressed by the display.

It was that sense of agitation that drove them to refuse, to refuse the chance to submit something. They knew that their work would not fit this place, they knew that they would not fit this place. And although they were so willing to find somewhere that felt more like home for their work.

They could deeply feel that this, so hallowed as a place of opportunity, would only be a confining cage for them.

Zora refused. They refused a few times - despite the voices from those they thought could be colleagues but turned out to be less than that - demanding them that they reconsider. They refused in the face of someone seeming totally confused as to why they wouldn't enter here.

They knew that they wanted a chance to demonstrate their capabilities, but they learned quick that all places where not fitting for their work. It seemed like their sense of self was at least strong enough to make a point about that. They took the criticism, they took the attempted shaming about not taking up a good chance.

Yada, yada. It was all bullshit as far as they were concerned. Zora was still figuring a lot out, but they did know what wouldn't work. And that was what they knew to turn down.

To this day, they have no regrets about drawing that line.

#asks #info #drabble

1 note · View note

pengiesama · 7 years ago

Text

Pharos of My Soul (Fic, Sorey/Mikleo, Dragon/Fantasy AU) (Chapter 4/7)

Title: Pharos of My Soul (Chapter 4 of 7) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary: Prince Sorey had always longed for freedom, adventure, and fairytale romance. But that was not something that a prince of the realm was destined for. He had resigned himself to an arranged marriage for the good of his kingdom, and those fairytale dreams would stay locked away in his heart for good.

And then his wedding got crashed by a man-eating dragon.

CHAPTER FOUR:

Sorey and Mikleo's relationship grows, and Rose makes a deal.

(CONTENT WARNING: mpreg, xenophilia, and generally weird biology.)

Link: AO3

This is a joint collaboration between me, Ali (@eachainn), and Nami (@shamingcows)! Ali and I wrote a dual AU very loosely based on the 2015 Russian movie “He’s a Dragon”. Ali’s version is available here, and my version is available here.

Updates weekly on Wednesdays!

Read on Tumblr!

“My love!” Sorey announced. He moved in a colorful swirl of robes and a jangling confusion of jewelry, and twirled his way over to where Mikleo was reviewing his lessons. “Before, I was naught but the thief of Baghdad, but now, I am a prince! Follow me, darling; follow me to the ends of the earth--”

Mikleo plucked his hand from Sorey’s grip before Sorey could kiss his way up his arm. He was a dedicated scholar, and was already progressing quickly after only a handful of lessons.

“Your recitation could use some work,” he said. “And must you rifle through my clothing collection?”

“That I must.” Sorey adjusted the jeweled turban atop his head – it wasn’t as extravagant as his wedding headdress, but it was a fitting piece for seduction. He lounged across the silk bedding, chin on his hand. He hoisted one leg up into air alluringly. “It’s important for your studies. Don’t you think acting out the books helped you?”

Mikleo flushed and looked away. His long lovely fingers drummed on the spine of the book he was reading.

“It was…marginally useful. I could have done well enough without, considering.”

Sorey had gotten hold of his fingers again. He had been bewitched by those drumming digits, and he lavished kisses upon each one as he continued to entreat him.

“Follow me, darling; follow me now to the ends of the earth…”

Perhaps it was simply redundant to ask. These isles, with their mists and towering ruined spires, could pass for the ends of the earth, Sorey supposed. They were remote, secluded; a haven, a heaven that Sorey’s heart had always searched for. And the company was simply sublime.

“Honestly. If you’re so attached to headwear, I have less ostentatious pieces.”

As regards headwear, Mikleo was, in fact, referring to his collection of racy underwear, which he seemed to think were hats with handy horn-holes. This was a charming misunderstanding indeed, and one that filled Sorey’s heart to the brim. But seeing Mikleo wearing racy underwear on his head made Sorey long to see him wearing it in a more traditional fashion. Sorey had tried to suggest this, but Mikleo had just looked at him like he was the insane one. What purpose do they serve under my trousers? They’d simply get in the way, Mikleo said. They frame my horns quite well, thank you.

Ah, but thinking of Mikleo wearing those panties on his lovely legs had gotten Sorey into a certain mood.

“Mikleo,” Sorey purred. He sat up and pinned Mikleo into the blankets. Mikleo arched an eyebrow at him, but made no move to throw him off. “I was wondering. Maybe we should make really, really sure that you’re definitely pregnant, a few more times--”

Mikleo grumbled and squirmed away from Sorey just enough to wiggle into a sitting position, placing Sorey’s head right in his lap. This was a compromise, he supposed. He basked in the heavenly softness of Mikleo’s thighs and the silken trousers under his cheek.

“I was certain immediately that I was with child, when I took you on that altar,” Mikleo said. “Do humans really not know from the start?”

That was something Sorey could not say for certain, not possessing the appropriate parts himself. He leaned up and kissed Mikleo’s tummy in apology. The feather on his turban tickled Mikleo’s skin and made him squeak.

Sorey was a bride-groom, a father-to-be, and a scholar and tutor. Falling derelict in any of these responsibilities would simply not do.

He would serve Mikleo to the ends of the earth and beyond.

“‘Anemone,’” Sorey said.

Mikleo batted at the feather on Sorey’s turban. “Excuse me?”

“For a girl. ‘Anemone’ is a great name, I think.” Sorey sighed dreamily and kissed Mikleo’s stomach again. “Or maybe something a bit more old-fashioned, if you’d prefer. We could look through some of the Ancient Avarost books here and find something you like.”

Mikleo rolled his eyes and returned to his book.

“Quite bold of you to assume my tastes,” Mikleo said. “Take off that hat if you insist on keeping your head on me. The feather tickles.”

Presented with a choice between style and keeping his head on Mikleo’s heavenly thighs, Sorey did the only logical thing. He whipped off his turban, and revealed a second, smaller turban underneath. Mikleo yanked it off his head irritably and tossed it across the room.

“‘Mikleo’ is an Ancient Avarost-era name,” Sorey noted, now bereft of headwear. “Did you pick it out yourself?”

At that, Mikleo went quiet. Sorey’s heart had been soaring just a few moments ago, but now, it dropped out of his chest – he’d clearly stumbled upon a sensitive subject. There was a secret, shameful part of him that thrilled at the idea of learning more about Mikleo. But he would not compromise this beautiful afternoon and their togetherness to satisfy his gluttony for knowledge; for more of Mikleo. Sorey covered Mikleo’s hand in his own, gently.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me--”

“My mother named me,” Mikleo said.

Now, Sorey was a well-read young man, and quite knowledgeable about his kingdom’s history. He was aware of the legends of the heroic dragon-slayer that avenged the sacrificed brides. Mikleo’s tension, and the grief written in the line of his mouth, told him the rest. Sorey was able to put the pieces together, but that knowledge did not tell him how to react to such a dreadful conclusion. Silence seemed to stretch out for eternity, and Sorey felt more apart than he had from Mikleo than he had been since they met. He had brought Mikleo heartache, and this was, perhaps, even more dreadful.

“What was she like?” Sorey asked, after a long moment.

Mikleo stared at the pages of his book.

“Caring, and strong,” he said quietly. “Devoted. And that is what led to her death.”

Sorey couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to lose someone so dear, and to such a violent end. Sorey continued to hold Mikleo’s hand, and did not look away from him. He had prodded Mikleo into this conversation, and he owed it to him to hear it out to the end.

“She always insisted we had a duty to protect your kingdom,” Mikleo continued. “You provided us with a yearly sacrifice, and in return, we were obliged to maintain the veil of mist. Had she simply left your kingdom to be savaged and overthrown by invaders, she would still be alive.

“She named me and raised me and cared for me. And protected your kingdom, until your hero killed her. I read the books your kingdom wrote on the ‘legend,’ saw the illustrations,” Mikleo laughed hollowly. “The artists never did get her right. Honestly, leather wings. Do they think we are bats?”

Mikleo’s lovely feathered wings were the dark blue of twilight, and seemed to shimmer in the sun, like light on water. The idea that people had been so misinformed about the true nature of things for so long: of the kingdom’s history, of Mikleo’s mother’s service, of the beauty of dragons…it rankled Sorey. Sorey reached out to stroke the feathers of Mikleo’s wings with his knuckles.

“Mikleo. We can tell everyone what really happened,” Sorey said. The idea had taken hold, and he sat up, drawing Mikleo to sit on his lap as he spoke aloud. “We can – we can write our own book, and get it published. People will be happy to know the truth, we just have to tell them.”

Sorey’s mind raced. Once the baby was born and they were settled on the island, he could get a letter to his parents, somehow. He’d tell them about his love for Mikleo, tell them that he was safe and sound and a proud husband and father. He’d tell them to commission the finest artist in the kingdom to draw for their book, and then he’d craft some epic poetry for the introduction, and help Mikleo with his handwriting, and Rose would surely help them publish and distribute the final product, and—

Mikleo shook his head and gave a rueful little smile. He rested his head against Sorey’s shoulder, and his tail curled around Sorey’s leg; keeping him there, close.

“What I know is this: humans like a good story more than they like the truth.”

Were Rose in a better state of mind, she likely would have been more interested in her surroundings. It was a pirate ship, after all, that sank her boat and dragged her out of the water, and Rose was a merchant by trade who had lost her fair share of shipments to pirate activity. It was a golden opportunity to gather intel on their movements in the area, or to do some swashbuckling of her own and commandeer the ship to continue her search for the prince.

However, as it was, there was a ghost haunting her. Rose feared no dragon, no high-seas criminal, no dangerous business venture. Rose did fear ghosts. Real bad.

“SALT! GIVE ME A BELL AND A BOOK AND A CANDLE AND SALT!” screamed Rose. She thrashed in the grip of her captors desperately, trying to get loose.

“Swallowed too much seawater?” asked the woman pirate that appeared to be the crew’s leader. “Only a rude guest starts making demands the moment they step in the door.”

The woman’s golden eyes were like a falcon’s, predatory and fierce, large and lovely. Her jet black hair was in a braid that trailed down her back; its length rivalling Sorey’s. Her clothing did little to hide her impressive figure, in the sense that there was little hiding of it going on. Rose had heard of pirate captains that lit their own beards aflame to terrify their victims during raids, so maybe the ensemble was meant to distract or unnerve her captives. Maybe she just liked feeling the fresh sea breeze on her nethers. But alas, it was not a time to be thinking about ladies’ nethers, and that was a sentiment that broke Rose’s heart. This haunting thing was very inconvenient indeed.

The ghost hovered in Rose’s field of vision, trying to catch her eye. No one but Rose appeared to be aware of her. “I beg of you, please remain calm!” she cried. “These scoundrels could mean you harm!”

“PISS OFF, GHOST!” howled Rose.

Before Rose could properly land a roundhouse kick to the head of one of the pirates trying to hold her down and make her cunning escape overboard, she felt a gentle little tug to her trouser leg. Shaking like a leaf, she slowly turned her head to look, expecting another terrible specter bent on dragging her to the depths of hell itself.

Instead, she saw a tiny little cloaked boy, holding out his fist for Rose.

“Phi,” the woman pirate asked, low and dangerous. “What are you doing?”

The cloaked boy turned to look at the woman, confusion plain on his face. Underneath the hood of his cloak, Rose could distinctly see the outline of little nubbed horns, and the glint of white scales on his jaw and neck.

“…she asked for salt,” he said quietly. “I went to the kitchen and got some for her.”

Rose did not get where she was today by not taking opportunities as they arose.

“THROW THE SALT AT THE GHOST!” she screamed.

The cloaked boy nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden volume. He blindly flung the contents of his fist in front of him, missing the ghost entirely. Rose dissolved into shrieking, sloppy tears, and went slack in the hold of her captors.

“Phi. Go back to Eizen and the pups,” said the woman pirate.

The boy, Phi, twiddled his fingers and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“…she asked for a book too,” he said. “Can I bring her that later--”

“Phi,” the woman said sternly, pointing her finger firmly to a door on the ship.

Phi sulkily trudged over to the door, and stared balefully at the woman before he shut it behind him.

The woman grumbled, marched over to Rose, and forced her head up to look at her with a hand in her hair.

“I am the captain of this ship, Velvet Crowe,” she said. “And you are going to explain what you were doing in the middle of the sea in a fishing skipper, screaming about ghosts.”

Rose collected herself. She closed her eyes. She desperately tried to ignore the ghost stroking her hair and offering tips on deep breathing exercises. And she began to explain the situation – the disrupted wedding, the dragon, the kidnapped prince.

It seemed naïve and stupid to collaborate with pirates, but Rose was short on allies, and equally short on a vessel to get around now that her fishing skipper was in pieces. A gang of greedy pirates were sure to offer assistance when there was a royal bounty on the head of the dragon. And if they were tempted by the opportunity to ransom off the prince and his fiancée, well, they’d have to deal with the might of Midgand’s navy, and more presently, the business end of Rose’s knife.

However, as Rose finished her tale, Velvet did not seem to be moved. In fact, she simply rose a critical eyebrow.

“So. You held a wedding on the same day as an ancient sacrificial festival. Dressed up this prince just like one of said sacrifices. Sang a song that used to summon a dragon to collect said sacrifices. And were then surprised when a dragon showed up and plucked him away.”

Rose shifted uncomfortably. The ghost girl made a concerned noise.

“She does rather have a point,” said the ghost.

“No she doesn’t! It wasn’t my idea to hold the wedding on that day!” Rose shot back defensively. She then snapped her mouth shut, and hastily looked away from the ghost. If she ignored her, maybe she’d leave.

Velvet waited for Rose to be done talking to no one, and then continued.

“Do you know what dragons do with the humans they capture?” Velvet asked almost casually. “I’m sure it’s not hard to guess. Your prince is probably being digested as we speak.”

Rose knew it was a pretty likely scenario. She just didn’t want to face it. Sorey was so young, and such a good kid.

“I’d say that’s quitter talk, and not something I expect of a pirate of your stature, Miss Crowe,” Rose replied. “Plus, are we just supposed to let that overgrown lizard get away with snatching up whoever it pleases--”

“Dragons have to eat,” Velvet said with a shrug. “Do you think humans need to be revenged on for the meat they hunt, as well?”

Rose was quiet, and could almost take comfort in the ghostly fingers stroking her hair.

“Sorey was—is a good kid, and has a long life ahead of him,” Rose began. “I’ve read the old legends – that the kingdom enjoys prosperity because of that dragon nest. But Sorey didn’t go into this wedding expecting to be made a sacrifice for the kingdom’s greater good. We made an awful, stupid mistake and I just want to make it as right as I can. I want to race to wherever that dragon is hiding and do everything I can as long as there’s the slightest chance Sorey is still alive.”

Rose meant every word. It was quite embarrassing to spill one’s soul to a pirate and her crew. But something in her words seemed to touch Velvet. Her grip on Rose’s hair loosened, and those falcon eyes had a look of grief in them. She stood, and thought.

“That dragon’s roost is magical,” Velvet said. “It moves around as it pleases, whenever it pleases. And you’ll never find it, or make land on it, unless that prince of yours is still alive to guide you to it. Even if he is, unless he actually loves you, we’ll be wandering these waters for months with nothing to show for it.”

Well, that was an issue. Sorey had a kind heart, and was full of love for everyone. But she knew that he didn’t actually love love her. Rose could only pray that the sort of general positive feeling Sorey felt for the world in general was enough of a beacon to guide them to the island in time.

“…but, if we’re not going to be able to take that kind of direct route,” Velvet continued, as if reading Rose’s expression. “We might have an ace or two in the hole. Our ship’s navigator is rather unique, and he might be convinced to help.”

“Bet I can help you twist his arm,” Rose said with a smirk. “You’ll hopefully be impressed by my negotiation skills, Miss Crowe.”

Velvet scoffed and turned to walk away, to the door where the boy Phi went.

“I doubt it, Miss Sparrowfeather.”

Hmm. Rose laughed to herself as she was escorted along with Velvet by the crew. So much for travelling incognito.

It was not as though Sorey did not realize the danger he was in. It was not as though Sorey did not miss the people he’d left behind. It was not as though Sorey intended to hurt them by throwing himself whole into this new life he’d been spirited into.

But, by god, he’d been given a taste of a life that he’d always pined for. Freedom, adventure, and – most notably – love.

There was a waterfall on the island. The water from the cave springs bubbled up and spilled over into an opening in the cave systems, and then spilled over once more, tumbling down the mountainside in a scintillating rainbow spray. The waterfall fed a shallow lake that was perfect for bathing – the mineral spring-water was clear and warm, and the fresh scent of it filled the humid air as it poured from the mountain’s heights.

Sorey would have been impressed enough if this was a natural wonder of the island, but this was a man-made feat. Or rather, a dragon-made one. Over the course of many years, Mikleo – through clever tricks of engineering and good old-fashioned elbow grease – had carefully re-routed the spring-water’s natural path through the mountain’s cave system to create the waterfall, and likewise had dug and filled the lake that it fed. It was a marvel, and Mikleo had only mentioned to him that he’d been the one to make it when Sorey had started going on about his geological theories on how it had formed. He needed something to occupy his mind and hands with, he had said. And, as he rather enjoyed baths, it seemed a worthwhile endeavor.

When Sorey thought he couldn’t fall any more in love with Mikleo, Mikleo just brought out something else to dazzle and fascinate him. Sorey had been so full of questions, so desperate to hear Mikleo explain every detail of his process, that their reading lessons had gotten sorely off-track that evening. Mikleo was such a fast learner – Sorey often found him reviewing the book they’d studied the night before, quietly reading aloud to himself with a fluency and understanding that once had been beyond his grasp; living alone and un-tutored so many years. Sorey suspected he was only being polite, now; listening to Sorey read to him for hours on end. Sorey appreciated Mikleo humoring him. He appreciated Mikleo indulging him.

Mikleo emerged from the lake, spring-water dripping down his pale skin in rivulets that glimmered in the sunlight. His wings glittered as he spread them wide; flicking them dry and sending rainbow mist glinting through the air.

He appreciated Mikleo in general.

Mikleo pushed his hair back from his eyes and squinted over at where Sorey perched on a rock, cross-legged.

“Done washing already?” Mikleo asked dubiously. He walked over to Sorey, gloriously naked, hands on his hips. His tail swish-swished behind him in the water as he went, to compensate for his rapidly changing balance. “I hope you cleaned your wound.”

He already had a tiny bump from their baby, and Sorey was more than a little bit overwhelmed with how cute it was. Serving Mikleo, keeping him sated, was a duty and a pleasure; he felt honored to be allowed to tend to him and touch him.

(Tasting him, however, would have to be worked up to. Mikleo had kicked him in the head out of surprise when Sorey tried to lick into him one evening. Mikleo’s legs were as powerful as they were beautiful. Sorey was glad Mikleo’s wound had healed enough to prove this statement, even though it’d earned him quite the bump on the skull.)

He’d already peppered Mikleo with so many questions about dragon biology, and Mikleo had answered most of them after being plied with kisses. (Perhaps he would have told him without the kisses, but the idea of not kissing Mikleo had not occurred to Sorey.) The egg – or eggs – would be laid after a few weeks, and then Mikleo would tend to them in the nest until they hatched a few months later. The babies – puppies, Mikleo kept calling them (so cute) – would stay in dragon form for a few years, growing big and strong until the protection of their parents. Then they could try their claws at managing a human form.

Egg. Eggs. Plural, potentially. Sorey daydreamed about twins, triplets. A whole little nursery to read bedtime stories to. Sorey would have to think up more baby names. He was compiling a list and planned on presenting it to Mikleo once he had worked on it for a few more weeks. It was a project that required intense and careful consideration.

“I did,” Sorey promised. “I just wanted to get out and dry off my hair.”

Mikleo nodded, and made a considering noise. Sorey’s hair coiled around him on the rock, and very nearly dipped right back into the lake. Weeks of hard work on the island, of gathering and hunting for food, of dragging things from Mikleo’s hoard of shipwreck treasures, had done wonders for Sorey’s spirit and zest for life, but had taken its toll on his hair. It was ragged and uneven and tangled – the sloppy, messy braid he yanked it into in the mornings was a far cry from the elaborate styles his mother and his servants did for him. Sorey had been close, many times, to just chopping it off and being done with it – one could only endure getting oneself tangled up in a bush so many times before one’s patience ran thin – but every time, his hopeless heart stopped him.

He was supposed to wait for his wedding night. He was supposed to cut it off with his spouse in the wedding suite, and burn it with a great deal of drama, and with a bucket of water nearby just in case the drama turned more literal. And then he and his spouse would fall upon each other with passion in their breasts and fire in their loins and hopefully not a fire in the suite and so on. It was supposed to be very meaningful, and a symbol of starting a new life together. He couldn’t just throw that all away just so he didn’t get caught on branches anymore. Maybe he really was too much of a romantic for his own good.

“Do you want me to cut it off for you?” Mikleo asked, casually.

Sorey nearly fell off his perch and back into the lake, wherein his hair would weigh him down and condemn him to a watery grave. Or something. His cheeks burned hot, and his heart thudded hard with desperate excitement. Did Mikleo just ask to—

…but Sorey sighed, and pushed the feeling down. Mikleo didn’t mean it that way. Mikleo did understand the general concept of weddings and marriage, but didn’t know about specific human wedding traditions – that much was obvious, considering their whole relationship was founded on said lack of understanding. He was just trying to be helpful.

“It’s fine,” Sorey assured him. “I think I still look pretty good, don’t you?”

“You look a mess,” Mikleo said bluntly. “But fine. Know that I won’t come help you if you accidentally hang yourself off a branch with that rat’s nest on your head.”

“Know that my heart will guide me back to you no matter what the trial,” Sorey replied, leaning forward to snatch Mikleo by the waist and drag him in. He rested his cheek on Mikleo’s stomach, and sighed happily.

Mikleo’s fingers slid into his hair.

“Why are you so intent on staying here?” he murmured. “Was your life with humans truly that wretched?”

“…no,” Sorey said against Mikleo’s skin. “I love my parents, and they’re probably worried about me.”

“You’ll see them again. Once your wound heals and you can make the voyage safely. I’ll even fly above your boat to help guide you.”

Sorey’s arms wrapped tighter around Mikleo. Mikleo sighed.

“You don’t plan on leaving, do you?”

Sorey’s eyes slid shut.

“They don’t need me. They don’t need a prince that can’t lead, a prince that no one respects. And they know it too – that’s why they were going to marry me off to someone who actually knows what she’s doing. My mom and dad can just pass the crown to her and everything will be fine.”

“Marry?” Mikleo said, with no small bit of surprise. “You were engaged?”

Sorey nodded, and looked up at Mikleo’s shocked expression. “Yeah. You grabbed me from my wedding, actually.”

“I did what?”

Sorey laughed in delight, and almost helplessly – the atmosphere here, and the company, was simply too heavenly to stay sad for long. He hauled Mikleo in to sit on his lap on his perch, and Mikleo’s tail curled around his calf on reflex.

“An arranged marriage, don’t worry. I don’t dress that fancy every day,” he said. “But I know why you’re probably confused. Over the centuries, the sacrificial rites slowly merged with wedding rites – it’s really a fascinating anthropological journey if you want to hear about it. I’ve been amending my theories on it ever since I met you.”

Mikleo gaped at him like a fish. “You – your kingdom merged…”

Mikleo paused, but then got a thoughtful look on his face.

“…though I suppose it follows a certain sort of logic,” he granted. “After all, I’ve read that human societies often associate mating with marriage. And we of course take humans to mate with when we do not simply eat them. While I was not certain that this ever became common knowledge among your kind, perhaps word of the general process got out somehow, and worked its way into your cultural rites.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Sorey eagerly said. “You’re probably not the first dragon to spare someone, y’know? So that person comes back, tells their story, and it becomes a popular book, or play, or something – it then starts getting integrated into the cultural consciousness until we’re where we are now.”

“Yes, yes,” Mikleo continued. “Perhaps if there were marriage records dating back a few centuries, we could pinpoint when the change started to take place…”

Mikleo paused before he got too off-track, and slanted a look at Sorey.

“Is that why you keep calling me your ‘bride’? The fact that I hijacked your wedding and mated with you?”

“…well, yes, but I also love you a whole bunch,” Sorey explained.

“Ah,” Mikleo said airily. “I thought you were simply being peculiar, as always.”

He would like to have a proper wedding to Mikleo, too. In front of everyone he loved, under the midday sun; Mikleo pulling in his barge and kissing him in front of the cheering crowds. Then during their wedding feast, they’d sneak off, overcome with love and passion for each other, and Mikleo would trim off Sorey’s locks in their wedding suite before they fell atop the bed and made love until the sun rose.

Mikleo butted his forehead against Sorey’s, interrupting Sorey’s reverie. A small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

“If you’d like to tell me more about your theory, lie back so this bride of yours can to tend to your wound. And maybe do something with your hair.”

Though perhaps that kind of thing would be redundant, considering.

Chapter Directory

First - Next - Last

#sormik #soremiku #suremiku #soymilk #sorey/mikleo #tales of zestiria #i guess this is my personal tales of zestiria tag now #a tenderly crafted fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

revshoggoth · 7 years ago

Text

The Chickens of Mars/The Girl in the Moon: Chapter 1

Moon City was a gorgeous place at night. A lot of enigneering and money had gone into making it that way, and it showed. Hiding under every perfectly striking vista was excessive planning, design, and illusion. In a way, the whole city was a facade to project the image of timeless wealth and neon beauty of the most uncannily unnatural kind. The majority of the loveliness extended only to the downtown and some of the wealthier, more respectable areas. It was a massive city, the biggest in the whole human spread, and it was made so as to draw your attention to the parts it wanted you to see. Sometimes the staggering amount of craft that went into the deception still managed to cause Midori Salo to pause and shiver a little, and she’d seen it all nearly every day of her life. Despite its uninspiring name, was home to many of the most widely respected (and well paid) artists, designers and general rich “visionaries” and their visions had demanded jutting arrogant skyscrapers offset by many rounder, more soothing, complementary structures, and even those were super-massive undertakings, which lead to a city of sparkling bright light stacking on top of itself ever upwards that still managed to serve and reveal the infinite Earth-lit sky, and that was beautiful. It was also the last thing the Earth was really good for, and all Midori had ever seen of it.

She shrugged to readjust the too-many wine bottles she was trying to carry in her arms, bitterly deriding herself in her head for not bringing a bag or a cart or anything useful at all to the store. She arms were much stronger than they looked, but it was an awkward jumble she was having difficulty maintaining as she walked a little more than briskly, and she wasn’t about to slow down. She was already running late, and it was a big night for The Boss. More realistically he was her, and many many people’s master, but he preferred to go by just Boss. Not just to her, his little matchstick clone girl, but by basically everyone on The Moon. And his party needed more wine, even though he had more wine in storage than a bored army could drink in a year. He didn’t need more, her single armload wouldn’t make any difference, but she had been told to go get it, so she did. That’s what Midori was good for. Midori was a special girl.

Midori walked in a special way. She was afraid every second of her life. She held herself in a special way and inside she felt like...knew...that she didn’t belong to herself, so she didn’t really know how to stand. Her eyes were special because they were made in a lab, like she was, but had installed separately when she was 14 Old-Earth years old. They were beautiful eyes, better than real ones. The only memory she had of her old ones was them sitting on the surgical table next to her when she opened her new ones. She’d never seen any pictures of herself with them, so she was fairly certain she didn’t miss them. She was very fond of her current eyes. They were beautiful, though sometimes she was worried they said too much, which caused people to see what they wanted to in them. People frequently burdened her with what they thought they saw in her eyes and it made her uncomfortable. They were normally a bluish tinted slightly luminescent green, but when she was scared they would become less blue. When she was asleep they were dull gray, but nobody ever saw them like that

. The Boss has lots of clones on staff. That was common practice, but Midori wasn’t a regular worker clone, despite the tasks she was frequently given. She had a much higher purpose than that, and it kept her from having to deal with many of the occupational hazards that lead to a life expectancy among labor clones rivaled only by some of the Asteroid colonies for brevity. Clones were cheap, cheaper than robots for many applications. Most smaller machines, including the computer that acted as the gatekeeper to The Boss’s grounds, used bio-computers running off the augmented cloned brains of various animals, often chicken or dogs.

“Good evening...MIDORI SALO. Arrival time: 11:46 PM. Expected arrival time 11:30. DISCIPLINARY ACTIONS: not recommended.” The gate computer had always been kind to her. It rarely suggested any consequences for her frequent tardiness.

“Thank you,” she said in her pitch-modulated tones as she walked through the gap in the energy field separating her home from the less opulent world outside. It was meant to always sound pleasant and accommodating, but she’d had it long enough to know how to express how she really felt to anyone who paid attention enough to see. She knew a range of things: awkwardness, embarrassment, ashamed over nearly everything.

She was always sweet, if a little awkward, to robots and other machines. They had to be polite, it was in their programming, but they didn’t have to like anyone either, because nobody cared how their obedient machines felt. Most people couldn’t even recognize the limited range of emotions the AIs had because they didn’t know or care they were there. Midori knew better because she was the same as them. She was made up, like the city. Like the air on the Moon.

She thought about a lot of things but she didn’t usually speak very much except to seem pleasant or say things she had to say. Because of this she was well liked and was praised. She didn’t like it, but it didn’t seem to be in her nature to retreat. She always felt obligated to stay places she didn’t want to be, but that had to be fine. That was what she’d always known and she wasn’t the type to ever get what she wanted when she even knew what that was.

The Boss was rich enough to understand the value of flaunting a conspicuously nihilist aesthetic. The walkway to the dome was flanked only by one certain type of tree, one of the extremely few that could eke out subsistence in the dead lunar soil. They were each spaced just-so, perfectly distant from each other that anyone passing by them would be forced to wonder just how much some landscaper had been paid for being so ostentatiously tasteful. Apart from that there was only plain grayness surrounding the gently self-illuminated, perfectly straight path. The Dome was in the center of the perfectly round estate and was suitably massive. The surface was able to show any color or image the owner desired, and the Boss kept it pearly and white at all times.

The seamless door opened and she hurried inside. Her name flashed all around her on the walls in a stylized typographical ballet then turned to arrows as she scampered down the dimly lit hallway, directing her to the kitchen. “Silence enhancing” frequency tones played to accompany her every footstep and breath. The walls reacted with faintly pulsing dots of lights that seemed far away. The entire place was crafted to be a classy reactive experience, based on the trendy theory that if the environment is animated by the people in it, the people in it will be animated by the environment. Reciprocal Reactivity was the name of the concept. It was at least half malarkey, but it was very hip and very expensive so, of course, the Boss had it.

The kitchen exhibited no such frills. The Chef would have probably brained anyone who would try to put them in with a skillet. He had no time for such hoity-toity foppery. He demanded a clean, efficient kitchen with lots of equipment, lots of food and absolutely no gimmicks. Despite a quick temper, he was in no way a ‘mean’ man, and Midori had always liked him. He tried to look out for her in his way. He at least wanted the best for her. He was very serious and very passionate about his cooking, but he was sweet.

He was loud, though, “Salo, there you are! Jesus, put that wine down. Why didn’t you take a cart or even a bag? Fuck it, never mind. Listen, Goki has been looking for you. I think you’re supposed to be around for that whole...event thing.” He got less loud at the end and seemed careful about how he said it.

Goki was a new robot with an old brain, one that knew how to do everything The Boss wanted the exact way he liked it done, so he kept it around. It’s state of the art body, sleek and cutting-edge though it was, exhibited the same minimalism as the rest of the place, though there was an element of old-fashioned, functional ugliness to it. It was tall, red (An uncommon allowance of adornment, reserved only for Goki among the rest of the countless house robots), angular, covered in many useful appendages and with one big round blue eye-like sensor array on each side of its head.

“SALO! You are required in the BALLROOM for the CONTACT EXPERIMENT in 23 MINUTES.” Goki informed her in his static and authoritative way as soon as she found it, roaming the w\hallway with purposeful automated seriousness.”Take THIS. HRMMMMMN.” it buzz-hummed while it waited. While it made Midori wait. Eventually, a small white orb came zipping down the hallway and dropped a longish box into her arms. It contained a stylish, slightly modest and slightly distracting state of the art dress. It wasn’t the kind of thing she felt comfortable wearing, but it would probably look fine. She just wished it was up to her.

She took it to her room and changed. She checked herself in the screen in the wall and was pleasantly surprised at how much she liked it. It made her feel a small but more confident until she remembered what she was wearing it for. All of her ‘sisters’ would be there with her for the Contact Experiment. They would all share their horror, fear, and happiness that it wasn’t happening to them.

Moving lights all over the dress twitched all around over her as she made her way to the primary ballroom. They started as cute but the closer she got the more they became distracting, almost maddening. Every unpredictable blink caught her eye and even though she lived where it was always night and she was always surrounded by countless blinking lights in the sky and on every wall in the dome, the lights on her dress felt like a countdown.

As she got closer to the ballroom there were fewer robots and more Bozos, and they all stared as she passed. They all knew better than to try to touch her, though several had tried before. They were no longer around, but she could see in their twisted mutant grinning leers that many still wanted to.

The Bozos could usually do more or less whatever they wanted, and almost nobody would be able to do anything about it if they even cared enough to try. Like Midori, they were protected. They oversaw the whole of the remnants of human society. Part police part ghoulish morale officers. They were strikingly grotesque and exuded an engineered aura that caused the average person to pay little mind to them unless the Bozos wanted their attention, which was almost never good. Whatever trick: radiation, chemical or otherwise they used to maintain their shadowy non-presence didn’t affect her brain, so Midori found herself constantly cognizant of them. They didn’t bother her, but they were always looking at her, like the one who stood by the tall round door to the ballroom, permanent red smile arching over half up his tiny, blue spotted head, her yellow cruel eyes leering over his bulbous nose. He knew what waited for her inside, and seemed to be enjoying the feelings she was dreading.

The Primary ballroom was obviously huge and extravagantly simple in decor, apart from the hundreds of people standing around it, blandly garish in their finery, out to see themselves seen on such a momentous night, more important than the other parties. They were important people who she recognized, and her friends that she didn’t but knew who they were. Very few of them held any interest for her, she was meant to gather alongside her ‘Sisters’. The other clones like her. They were gathered on a gracefully curving balcony several stories up, with a good view of the Core- a massive glowing red orb of particle-wave matter, which sometimes seemed like dull Martian stone and at others seemed like an ethereal vision of red roundness. Alive yet stone.

Midori joined her ‘Sisters’ on the balcony, and no matter how she tried to mingle- make simple talk with the 2 dozen girls that looked identically special, just like her, her eyes kept being drawn upwards towards the Core. The only one of her sisters she didn’t see there was her favorite, Justine. The only one she felt like she was really friends with. It made her fear the worst. She didn’t know very many of the sisters, she hadn’t had many chances to meet them outside of infrequent gatherings, largely for study and medical purposes. A lot could go wrong in the life of even a regular clone, let alone very important, very experimental and very expensive models like her line, and considering their importance to the operation of the ZIPP-0 bio-computer, a lot of data had to be collected. She and her sisters weren’t the first generations of their line, but they were the first line where more than 10% had lived past puberty without dying from pituitary and pineal malformations, or being harvested for system components. Midori had never met any of the prior generations of her line, but she’d never heard anyone say they were all dead.

Bic was the only other one of herself that she really knew at all. They’d met 3 years back. They were at least good acquaintances, and she wasn’t talking to anyone so Midori went and stood by her. She had different eyes, purple and a little bigger than Midori’s and had her hair up, whereas Midori kept hers down.

“Have you seen Justine?”

Bic shook her head. Midori could see she was biting her lip. This was a hugely important night, for everyone alive in the remaining human spread, but maybe most of all for the Sisters. This night was the culmination of everything they had been created for. All the ones that were still alive were there. The only explanations for Justine’s absence were either she was already dead, or she’d been selected. Midori probably would have heard something if she were dead, which made her incredibly anxious.

“You live here?” Bic asked. Midori nodded. “How can something so big be so boring?”

Midori laughed a little before catching herself. She lowered her voice, which never got very loud in the first place, “The Boss thinks boring is classy. Interesting things make him feel less interesting.”

“That probably makes sense to him.”

“I promise it does. I hope that matters.” Midori said, smiling. She’d forgotten how fatalistic and funny Bic was. She was surprised she hadn’t been culled yet for her attitude. It wasn’t far off from Midori’s, but Bic always tended to be more vocal about it. The Sisters very rarely spoke up or tried to make their individual personalities known. It never worked out for anybody except the people who controlled them and made them.

“What’s it even like to live with that guy?” Bic asked, meaning The Boss.

Midori took a big breath and thought. She had to. Nobody ever asked her about that, and she had a lot to say but was cautious about the parts she was willing to let out, “I’ve heard a lot worse about others. He’s...not always bad. For the most part, he barely notices me. He likes to talk. He’s very excited about the fact that he exists.”

“They all are. Mine is. At least yours has done something with his life. Mine just wants to die comfortably with as much of his mommy’s money left as he could. I don’t get it. I wish I could leave him. I hate him, but... there are worse things than hating someone. I just wish he wasn’t so useless. It wouldn't make me stop hating him, but he’d have something to...justify it? I’m sorry. At least “The Boss”” Bic chuckled bleakly as she said his name, “Has built something. At least he did something with his dad’s money, right?”

She was right, but it didn’t make Midori feel any better about him. Bic’s “caretaker”

was Bilfer Attims, whose mother had been made a fortune off a settlement from her mother’s death in an asteroid mining accident and had built an empire purchasing and mining the same asteroids. Bilfr was notoriously stupid, even amongst the people forced by economic classes into being his peer.

Midori looked up at the core and the hastily assembled rig of supports and catwalks effortlessly kept in place by hover-spheres. Purple coated, green visor-ed scientists and sciencey-student types hovered about, adjusting the impressively clunky and ungraceful machines that looked so out of place in the Dome’s simple clean arrangement. The area directly above the Core was blocked off by blue velvet curtains, and Midori knew that meant a surprise. One she was already fairly certain of and dreading.

Midori nervously swallowed and asked, “Do you think they picked Justine for the experiment?”

“Of course they did. She’s from the University. She knows that shit more than anybody. It had to be her, we never had a chance. We’re just spare parts.” Bic had never been comforting. Midori admired that about her.

The lights gently lowered and the murmuring of the crowd died out. It was time for the Contact Experiment, but this was The Boss’ house, and he had dumped an incredible amount of money into the project, so he got to give a speech first. He extricated himself from the crush of sycophants he’d been speaking to and took his place, drink in hand, at the center of the room. He was older than he looked, through his many surgeries and genetic rejuvenation procedures had left him in the strange state that so many privileged older people Midori had seen, with an older face, older eyes made to look artificially younger, leaving them dangling in a perpetual unnatural look. He pulled it off better than most, partly because he had excellent taste in doctors, partly because, despite all the things Midori despised about him as essentially her jailer, he had more self-confidence and a sense of personal flair than most of the soulless hangers-on and pleasers around him. Even a semblance of personality was enough to set him apart in the circles he moved in. Midori didn’t think he was even that interesting but compared to the aggressively fawning rich people who wanted a better rich person to latch onto he was a tall glass of water. His hair was as perfect as his suit was not, garish, burgundy paisley that absolutely defied the sense of tasteful understatement that defined the things he surrounded himself with.

He was smiling, and let his smile hang over the assembly for a while, taking in the moment and forcing it back on everyone else before starting his speech, “Tonight, friends, is a monumental night, and not just for us. For all humanity.” applause, “Now I don’t need to tell you that we’re standing on the edge of history. Our planet is dead, rendered nearly unlivable by an unknown event that came right out of the sky and wiped out most of our species, but you know what? We survived! Here we are, living on the Moon, something our ancestors saw every night but never dared to dream we could live on, in the biggest, most beautiful humanity has ever created. But we do. A lot of suffering and sacrifice was required, and there were a lot of people who said it couldn’t be done, who tried to stand in the way of development, advancement, progress, but where are they now? And where are we?”

Applause. The Boss gave a big smile and let them clap until, with a wave of his hand, they didn’t. He continued. “We’ve come a long way, but we can’t stop here! Our options are limitless, but only if we chase them to the ends of the universe! Of course, I’m talking about The Pig. “ there were a few chuckles in the audience. What a character they must have thought, using the vulgar slang word for The Hogsong, “we see it every day, of course. It hangs over us, always there, slowly becoming more complete. I happen to be old enough to remember when it was nothing but a bare skeletal sketch of what is now. Something you'd have to blink to see. Now, well you can see it through the roof even now.” Which was true. He'd probably even pulled a few strings to ensure it would be so close and so directly over his dome. “The largest most complex structure ever assembled by humans, last hope of an endangered species, a triumph of our ingenuity, you’ve heard it all before. Something that big and impressive, something made to contain a whole new society, needs a big impressive computer built to manage a world, to create an experience for the people in that world, and to manage the life functions of, eventually, up to 10 million people one day! Until it finds world's suitable for human habitation. Not just one, mind you. We used to have just one world. Look how that worked out. We need to spread out as far as humanly possible, and in doing so we will prove just how much is humanly possible!”

Massive applause for that. Midori looked over at Bic, who positively vibrated sardonic bemusement. It was inspirational. Midori kept faking a smile, but Bic made her feel like she at least didn’t have to put any effort into it. Less need to shave off another little sliver of her soul to animate the pretense of pleasantness.

“I am endlessly proud of what the brave researchers at Utopia University have done, as we all should be. The ZIPP-0 Bioplex solved the fundamental problems facing the creation of more than artificial intelligence, but something far above and beyond. Tonight…” He winked, “we get to find out if it works. I'd hope so. I've invested a lot of money into it.” They crowd laughed dutifully. “I’m told all the preparations are complete, it’s been a pleasure grandstanding at you for a while. But...before we go on let me speak sincerely for a moment. Tonight is the result of a lot of hard work by a lot of incredibly gifted, very well funded people. Their work is not only exemplary but extraordinary…”

While the Boss kept going on in self-aggrandizing platitudes, Bic turned to Midori and whispered, “We’re allowed to drink, right?” Midori nodded. “Do you mind?” Midori didn’t mind. She snuck down the stairs, trying to be as unassuming as possible, feeling nervous at being the only one who wasn’t paying attention. Then she realized that nobody cared. She slipped a bottle from one of the several catering stations. The robot didn't care. She slipped back up and handed it to Bic who took a drink. “Thanks.”

“I didn't realize how much I was going to want a drink until you mentioned it,” Midori said and took a sip, then a much larger one. The speech came to a close about 11 minutes later by her internal clock. The lights refocused onto the core and the catwalks surrounding it. The curtains vanished in a holographic glitter. Justine hung in the air with her hands across her chest. She wore a white plastic suit, probably Imploplex-7, with massive cables streaming out the back and terminating in two plumes out her back to massive clunky computing vats that scientists on the catwalks carefully monitored. Midori recognized the one standing closest to the ledge as Dr. Doug Smith from Utopia University. He was head of the Core Component department, and if Midori thought she had a father she'd probably think it was him, but she didn't. She zoomed her artificial eyes in on Justine. Her face was blank in the way Justine’s always was when she was trying to ignore something. Midori had seen it plenty of times. Her lips were pursed tightly. She was breathing slowly and mindfully. She was as calm as she could force herself into being.

Dr. Smith’s voice came amplified for everyone to enjoy, “Core status: 96% inert. Submerge the control medium.” A steel orb came down above the core and extended a long arm with a black orb on the end. It sparkles and vanished, it's matter sucked like pixels in a vacuum into the orb not didn't look natural. It looked like a display glitch in reality. There was no sound. The Core began to pulsate a deep, organic looking Crimson in its center.

“Control medium inserted. Interface activated. Core is stable. 89% inert.” some faceless voice described.

“Decrease field locks. Subject status?” Smith said, watching very seriously.

“Psychological dampers are at full. No contamination. Vitals optimal..”

“She’s ready. Release psychological buffers and begin the descent.”

The anti-gravity suspension rings that circled Justine began to slowly lower her down towards the core. She remained placed, but Midori could see her chest tighten in fear. She looked over to Bic, who was biting her lip, also fixed on Justine, as were the rest of the Sisters.

When she was halfway down to the Core, Dr. Smith waved his hands, slowing the descent, “Status?”

“Psychological contamination has begun. 13% at this point. Absolute borderline in 5 meters. She’ll be unsalvageable beyond that point.” another anonymous voice responded. A girl’s.

“Core status?”

“Nominal. Field restrictions at last level. Exo-Ego Field interfaces online. All meta-psychological systems ready for data flash.”

“Proceed 3.5 meters,” Smith said. The rings lowered her further until Justine’s bare toes were just over the core. Midori saw her struggling to keep her eyes closed, trying to contain whatever she was experiencing.

“Absolute borderline passed. Psychological contamination at 60%. Subject’s ego deterioration is 7% below optimal but within parameters.”

“Apply buffers at quarter power. Release Exo-Ego Field containment.” Smith directed. There was a loud snapping sound, and purple plumes that looked like solid electricity snaked up from the core and wove around Justine’s toes.

“Field released. It’s locked onto the subject.”

“Charge to control medium and initiate Exo-Ego submerge.”

“Engaged.”

The purple tendrils stopped writing and phased through her feet, becoming a purple orb of viscous energy between Justine and the core. Her face showed none of the plain defiant serenity it had before. Her eyes were still shut tightly but her mouth was monstrously wide. Whatever sounds she was making were not amplified for the audience, and even Midori’s enhanced hearing couldn’t discern it over the almost musical crackling squeal of the brightening core. More purple tendrils danced up around it and slowed, hovering around the orb.

“Subject has begun integration with the Core.” Subject. They never called her by name.

Justine clutched her chest tight enough to tear skin. She was screaming, words or shrieks Midori couldn’t tell. Large screens floating around the ballroom displayed various close-ups on the core, the scientists, readouts no one could understand, but none showed any sort of detail of Justine. That wasn’t what the audience was supposed to be looking at or caring about.

“Increase submersion speed by the second factor. She’s doing just fine.” Smith said. He and the girl’s voice were the only ones who even called her “she”. That didn’t make Midori feel any better about them.

The rings moved her down faster, but she never went past the orb. Instead, she seemed to be almost disintegrating, feeding the pulsing ball of energy. More snaking electrical tentacles came up and less phased through than they seemed to hungrily begin to absorb portions of her legs, but not biologically, almost like it was transmuting her into its digital self, but it still made the skin around the points of contact bubble up. More. Midori zoomed her eyes in. The resolution was much grainier, but it seemed like tiny arms, complete with fully fingered hands were growing out of the Imoplex suit, stretching longingly towards the places of her dissolution. Midori wanted to stop watching, so she took another drink instead. Not watching was not an option. Not yet. Horror had her too transfixed. Sadness had her paralyzed. She held the bottle out to Bic, who didn't even notice it there until Midori nudged her arm with it. She apologized and took a hefty swig. Midori could see it was getting hard for her to watch.

It was getting even harder for Justine. Midori looked back and saw she was down to her hips but still alive and still in agony, even more than before. It kept going until it was up to her neck, and then she opened her eyes. They had always been unique. They didn’t affect a natural look. They were dot-matrix LCD, with a slow refresh rate, a throwback stylistic choice in the style of an old Earth LCD display. There was something so unnaturally beautiful about them. Midori had always loved them. She saw them one last time, showing the truest and unnatural digital display of brokenness and hopelessness. Midori couldn’t bear to see them like that, but they didn’t last long. Soon she was completely absorbed into the orb along with the suit. The wires which had been streaming from the back snapped and swung aside like dead weight.

“Subject dissolution complete. Control medium reads 100% retention.”

Dr. Smith took a big breath. He wasn’t smiling yet. “Close the Exo-Ego Field.”

There was a snap like tinkling, windchime thunder and a flash. The glowing orb shattered into countless sparks and sunk into the core, which began to hum and change shades to a deep, multilayered mostly opaque crimson.”

“Field closed. Control medium dived into the core. Exo-Ego integration commencing. Complete. Exo-Ego integrated at 95%.”

Dr. Smith nodded. “Operation is a success. ZIPP-0 is online.”

They applauded so much, the sound filled the whole ballroom and made Midori want to vomit. She looked to Bic, who looked back. All the composure and bemusement was gone from her face, replaced by ghastly, horrified blankness. Neither had anything to say. Midori took her hand and lead her down the stairs to the catering kiosk closest to the furthest of the ballroom's six balconies. They each grabbed a bottle of Martian wine and escaped outside while the people began to mingle and discuss the historic moment they’d both seen.

#scifi #novel #new novel #sad scifi #serial #fiction #Mars #the moon #chickens

3 notes · View notes