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heliphantie · 1 year

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Happy 1st anniversary of Encanto!

Sample of several Brunos drawn during October. Tag yourself, as they say.

Under ‘read more’ – small selection of art through the year + some ramblings:

Back in the middle of 2021, I’ve got interested by couple of things about it: implication that Disney – or animation in general - does something inspired by Gabriel García Márquez, and also being Latino-inspired Disney musical movie, which I wanted to see since listening to “Snuff Out The Light” from what became “Emperor’s New Groove”. Wasn’t expecting a lot, neither, to be honest, got in result, except some surprising consequences. I admire a lot of work, classic and more contemporary, by Disney animation and its creatives, even if nothing in last decade or so impressed me on the level Golden Age, Renaissance, or even early 00s production did.

To be fair, in the end I only stay intrigued by its concept and production art more than by actual movie, and it’s realistically more than I would expect. That, and fact Disney happened to create character catering specifically to me in a lot of aspects, which is unfathomable (but it’s a talk for other time).

I would like to collect all my thoughts about the movie to make thorough writing on it, but it calls for motivation and time dedicated to it. In one or another form, I still consider to do it sometime, not necessarily in consecutive form…

What is significant to me, it has triggered my long-tarred decision to resume drawing, which I had on hold for literal years. For now, beside of continued efforts in building skills, I feel almost obligated to put on paper (or digital canvas) all ideas thinking about the movie sparked (and I’m not even over a quarter of it currently).

I’d like to do one another big thing for its first anniversary before the end of year, but being on low energy and not wanting to rush through it, I hope I finish it to Christmas. Anyway, there is some of my work of that year which, out of all artistic attempts, I find satisfactory, considering my current level.

Sort of digest of the (not complete, given I started in April) year of art, dedicated mostly to one subject.

Julieta Gets All Kisses Returned (April 2022)

One of very first, early pictures. In fact, I drew it in pencil on very first day, April 1, along with couple of other small doodles. Idea for it was also quite old, from February, and it was supposed to be birthday-related, before official birthdays were revealed, and it turned I have to wait for half of year😊 Or draw it regardless, because it still worked out of that context and was small and simple enough for first steps. With all its simplicity, it *could* have been better, but I’m even fond of its roughness. There are some drawings I realize liking only for having low expectations for it, but as time goes, they look crappy to me, but not this one. (May be fun to re-make it too next year, to look at progress/improvement, assuming I’ll reach any.)

Teenage Bruno (April 2022)

This one I did in pencil on the *second* day. Piece of wisdom to myself: comics, even short ones, are trickier than regular drawing. It’s consisted of small frames, but you have to figure out composition and make character designs in each panel consistent. It takes twice time to make everything right and without a hurry.

Whole thing barely fits into any context of canon, I just imagined young Bruno interacting with children similar to Mirabel, and this conversation sprang to mind. I had to come with context to support it (Bruno had his gift kept in relative secret til late adolescence), but in general, main connection with my personal headcanon is just that he always was more resilient and lighthearted than given credit for.

On this note, I’ve had intention of exploring my headcanon about characters and Bruno in particular via mini-comics (lot of it had comic scenarios in its roots), and there’s bunch of scripts for it lying not processed into work yet, and as I said, I’m going to finish them because I don’t want for this spurt of inspiration to go to waste, even if it takes time.

On the comic itself, I also like how it turned, given all imperfections. Having to figure look of younger Bruno was fun, and it had some amusing by-products as well I’ll show other time😊 People online seem liking it, too, maybe because it has some narrative. And, frankly, I ought to make narrative things more often.

WDTAB Reenacted (April-May 2022)

Another fun early idea, WDTAB musical number with only Mirabel and Bruno. Two challenges: full-body figures in dynamic poses and drawing with references (without tracing, purely from eye), putting some spin on it. Curious realization: no matter how I try to keep body proportions accurate, all people I draw look like hobbits… except Bruno who does look like hobbit by design already.

My favorite is middle-bottom fragment, dynamic pose construed from scratch.

Bruno & Toni (July-August 2022, fragment of mini-comic)

It’s just this, a fragment of another (rare) mini-comic, but somehow in the end of it, I unexpectedly liked this one panel enough to single it out. I still struggle conveying emotions and mood of characters, but this one turned fortunately in that regard. It’s “sparking joy”, to use meme-speak.

Dolores (August 2022)

I wasn’t exactly determined to draw something to every official character birthday, only when I had idea in mind and it happened to align with date, but since May I was going (almost) steady providing something to each, small or bigger, like that one. It was first full-page picture with background and multiple elements, I wasn’t sure I’d finish it on time, but I managed to, and for most of it, I like the result. It’s not always that vision of thing is clear from beginning and gets exact realization, it’s interesting to see what I get in the end. Layers of background and decorative elements are all over place, it’s accidentally looking like sort of collage, but popping up quite vividly. It got some attention on Twitter, and frankly, I’m pleasantly surprised with it, the work paid off.

Also, how I pointed while presenting it for first time, I was inspired by production art and lines from script depicting Dolores as “weird cousin”, and to lesser extent by fan song “Turn It Down”. When someone mentioned she looks Tim Burton-esque, I was glad I nailed that association.

For further note, Dolores and Pepa are two characters with very attractive color design, I like every opportunity of drawing them.

Bunch of small things drawn during September-October – see samples in header image of post and under ‘encanto fanart’ tag in the blog by yourself, they’re all recent.

Despite smaller goals, I feel like it’s biggest improvement of the year: slowly getting expressions, shadow and lighting rendering, figuring out consistent personal style for characters, etc. I may get slowed down for now (and it affects my work), but I realize there’s long way ahead, and it’s encouraging to see I already have progressed a bit. Fanart is legit good starting point for working toward artistic aspirations, both fun and productive.

So, this post turned into one about personal achievements rather than one about the movie, but in the end, it’s all thanks to inspiration it gave me, so my felicitations to it!

#encanto #disney #encanto fanart #disney fanart #la familia madrigal #phantieart

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works-of-fanfiction · 3 years

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“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

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No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #oneshot #blur #request #anon request

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writtenmemxries · 3 years

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“If I could read your mind, love, what a tale your thoughts could tell.”

I was inspired by this post by @gum-believable to write this fic. I tagged all the people that asked to be tagged under that post, I hope you don’t mind and I hope you like this! :)

[1.9k words]

Sam had learned early on that many hunts rarely go as one would hope, unfortunately. He used to wait anxiously for his father and brother to come home, sitting on an uncomfortable bed in a random motel, nearly thirty years before, scared that things could go bad.

As time went by, he understood firsthand that not everything always goes as planned. Murphy’s law teaches us that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Even on a trivial hunt like that.

A case to solve, a witch to stop before it was too late, people to save. Nothing they hadn’t faced before, nothing they weren’t able to overcome with their skills and experience. It was such a mundane hunt that even a pair of young hunters like Claire and Kaia could have handled it well, or so Sam and Dean believed.

Alas, hunting is unpredictable. Who would have thought that the witch had a twin sister? Who would have imagined that the aforementioned sister was so poorly endowed with magical powers that the spell cast against Dean would have side effects even after her death?

Still, that was exactly what happened.

When a purple cloud enveloped Dean’s head, dulling his senses and making him lose his balance, Sam shot the young woman in the head and she fell to the ground with a thud.

Dean, still a bit pale, got up trembling. Despite everything, he seemed to be fine. No trace of purple smoke, no strange dust, no visible wounds. They were both fine.

Sam let out a relieved sigh. That was a close one, he thought.

“Amen to that, little brother,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam looked at him confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean, you just talked!”

“Dean, I didn’t speak.”

Dean thought about it for a moment, then shrugged carelessly. “I must have imagined it. I still feel a little dizzy from the spell.”

Sam nodded. “Can you drive?”

“Of course I can, who do you think I am? You won't put your filthy hands on Baby,” Dean exclaimed offended, and quickly went down the stairs of the apartment.

Sam looked around cautiously one last time before following his brother to the car.

As they traveled through the city towards the highway, Sam stared out of the window thoughtfully, while Dean cheerfully drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

That Starbucks is new, Sam thought casually, noticing a new sign of the popular coffee shop.

“Wow Samantha, you know these towns really well, don’t you?" Dean commented wryly.

Sam turned to him frowning. “What?”

“I said you know-”

“I heard what you said,” Sam interrupted him. “But why did you say that?”

Dean gave him a confused look before focusing back on the road. “Uh, no offense Sam, but honestly, who cares about Starbucks.”

Sam was starting to fret. “How do you know I was thinking about Starbucks?”

“You okay Sam?” Dean asked concerned. “Did those sons of bitches do anything to you?”

“I didn't say anything, Dean,” Sam said for the second time that day. “I just thought about it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn't speak. And I didn't do it before, either! I didn't say anything about Starbucks, Dean. Not out loud at least.”

“So what, I can read minds now?”

Sam sighed. “I don't know, maybe.”

Dean smiled in amusement. “Awesome.”

“Dean, there must be something else. Something bad. It must be that spell's fault. I'm gonna call Cas.”

But Dean had stopped listening to him. He was smiling to himself, proud of his new supernatural power. After all, how dangerous could it be?

When they got to the bunker, Castiel was already there. Sam hadn't explained anything to him on the phone, except that Dean had been hit by an unknown spell and they needed the angel's help.

As soon as they entered the room, Castiel ran to meet them, worried.

“Sam, Dean. What happened?”

“Dean thinks he has superpowers,” Sam said without many pleasantries, as Dean greeted Castiel with a pat on the shoulder.

“I told you Sam, I'm like Professor X,” Dean said with a grin.

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes.

Why did I have to fall in love with this idiot?

Dean nearly tripped over his own feet. Castiel grabbed his arm, steadying him, but Dean immediately drew back, as if his touch had burned him.

“What?!” he nearly shouted, looking at him with wide eyes.

Castiel looked at him confused and preoccupied. “Dean, I didn't say anything,” he said calmly, as if he were explaining a complex concept to a child.

“Cas, the thing is-” Sam tried to explain, but Dean shut him up.

“It's- it's not important. Do you know what matters now? Dinner. I still have to cook, so, Cas, you're coming with me to the kitchen,” he said quickly. His ears were burning and he knew he was blushing.

“Dean-”

“No tofu-eating man allowed in my kitchen, capiche?” he interrupted his brother again, pointing his finger at him.

Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed Castiel by the wrist and they disappeared together down the corridor, leaving Sam astonished in front of the bunker entrance.

In the kitchen, Dean let go of Castiel's wrist, clearing his throat embarrassed. Castiel continued to look at him curiously.

I miss the feeling of his fingers on my skin. I love it when he touches me like that.

Dean choked on his saliva and started coughing under Castiel's concerned gaze.

“Dean, what happened, do I have to heal you?” he asked apprehensive.

Dean shook his head no, catching his breath. “No man, I'm fine. It's just... dinner, alright? We have to hurry up,” he said hastily, turning his back to the angel to avoid him noticing his obvious blush.

“Dean, Sam said a witch cast a spell on you...”

“Sam hit his head and has no idea what he's saying,” Dean lied.

Castiel frowned. “Is he okay? Maybe I should check if he needs my assistance,” he said, already heading down the hall.

“Cas, no!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel winced, looking at him in shock.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. “He's fine, I've already checked on him. He just needs to rest,” he said looking around, unable to fix his gaze on Castiel. “For now, I need you to stay here with me, okay?” he continued, grabbing a pan to cook some burgers.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Why?”

“Because-” Dean sighed, “I want you here.”

Castiel's gaze softened.

I love being with you Dean. Spending time with you. Talking to you, or even being silent. I always want to be around you.

Dean felt himself blush again. “Good,” he murmured.

Castiel sat down at the table, knowing he couldn't be of much help, and he simply watched Dean cook. There was silence between them, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The only sounds were those that Dean made moving around the kitchen, slicing tomatoes, washing salad, preparing dinner.

How can I be so lucky?

Dean turned to Castiel, winking in his direction.

You're amazing. And it's incredible that I get to sit here, with you, watching you. Admiring you as one would admire a work of art or a natural phenomenon. Seeing you here, in such a normal and domestic environment, fills my heart with joy. I want to see you like this forever.

“So, Cas,” Dean said perhaps a little too loud, trying to distract himself from those words that were ringing in his head, hitting him right in the chest, unleashing lightning and storms inside his brain. “What's on your mind?”

Castiel eyed him enigmatically. “It's nice to see you cooking happily,” he said simply, looking around the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, that's good, I guess,” Dean replied, scratching his head in embarrassment.

“What are you thinking about, instead, Dean?”

Dean looked into his eyes, which stared back at him with an expression so fond that he felt his heart ache.

I love you, he thought, and for the first time it didn't scare him. He didn't feel horrified, he hadn't been ashamed of his feelings for a long time. But he wasn't afraid either, not anymore.

I love you, he thought again. Cas, I love you. Cas cas cas cas-

“Dean.”

Castiel's cheeks were tinged with red, his lips were slightly parted, his pupils dilated. Dean's first thought was that he wanted to see him like that every day.

“Dean, why are you praying to me?” Castiel asked in a whisper.

“I'm not,” Dean said quietly, dumbfounded, letting his eyes wander over Castiel's features, his flustered face.

“Yes, you- you have-”

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Castiel closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

Dean clung to the kitchen counter, already regretting having said it out loud. What if he wasn't actually hearing Cas' thoughts? What if he was just hallucinating?

“Say something Cas.”

Castiel shook his head slowly.

I don't deserve your love. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you a family, someone who can get old with you, someone who has never betrayed or hurt you, I don't-

“Cas. I- I can hear your thoughts. The witch's spell, I think... I don't even know man, I don't know what happened, but I can hear what you think as if you were talking,” Dean whispered guiltily.

Castiel jerked his head up. His eyes were full of tears.

“Dean, why haven't you told me-”

“I didn't want to. I'm sorry, okay, but you were saying all those nice things about me, things I don't deserve, and I didn't expect it. I just wanted... I don't know, man," Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. “But I love you,” he continued, moving closer to Castiel. “You’re family, Cas. You, Sam, Jack... I want to grow old with you, until I die of liver cirrhosis or some other bullshit. I don't want anyone else. It's you, Cas. You're the one for me.”

He had crouched down in front of Castiel, who was still sitting at the table. Tears ran down the angel's cheeks, which Dean promptly collected with his thumbs, gently caressing his face. Castiel huffed out a laugh, clinging to Dean's arms, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He stood up, Dean right after him. And in an instant, their lips met and started moving together, in tune, as their hands explored the other's neck, jaw, hair, eagerly and sweetly at the same time.

They parted, out of breath, and Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's, losing himself in his green eyes.

“Should we thank her?�� he asked with a smile, breathing in Dean’s scent.

“Who?” Dean said, stroking his hair absentmindedly.

“The witch.”

“Oh,” Dean chuckled. “Sam killed her.”

“Of course he did,” Castiel laughed.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, and pulled him close to kiss him again.

Castiel smiled against his lips, and in that moment Dean was certain. He wanted this with him more than anything.

Smiling back, he wished Castiel would never stop grinning like that.

And if Castiel thought the same, Dean was too engrossed in the kiss to hear it.

· tags under the cut, ask to be added or removed ·

@rambleoncas @chaoticdean @winchester-novak @randomblabbling @seffersonjtarship @professorerudite @queen-rowenas @sana-drinks-isklar @tasersloth @beforejuko @superduckbatrebel

@nguyenxtrang @destiel-bitches @multi-fandom-dark-lord @kindahotommo @cartoons-tothemoon @piratefairy-moonlight @legless-fish-on-rollerskates @hemdall

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fermented-writers-block · 3 years

Text

Lus and the Human Portal Clone Theory

Even before Keeping Up A-fear-ances aired, I have been working for almost a year now on running through all the possible various suspects with wonderful folks like @sepublic , @anistarrose , and @elementalist-kdj . Like the post title indicates, from sheer process of elimination, the only conclusion that made sense to me was a clone made of Luz by the portal door, and I’ve been working on refining and reworking said conclusion up to the version I will lay out here.

Now, as @safetayy , @theowlhouseheadcanons , and @50shades-of-blue have heard from me before, the portal I've long suspected was not made to go from the Demon Realm to the Human Realm, but rather to go from the Human Realm to the Demon Realm by humans, for humans. This is because it then could tie into the hypothetical existence of a Luz clone without having the issue of asking where Eda, Lilith, and King's clones are, as the clone in this case is the result of a function of the door to create a basic level duplicate of any human that passes through it rather than it happening for just anyone that passes through.

With this, it's because the suitcase form of the portal looks as thought it indicates it was used for temporary trips to the Demon Realm, much like how suitcases were used when railways and international boats made travel more accessible for the middle and lower classes. For example:

Going by the way the door “faces” and the way it swings open, the ergonomics of the portal makes it look an awful lot like a right handed out swing door, with the Human Realm on the “inside” and the Demon Realm on the “outside.” And the arrow in the diagram depicts the general direction of traffic that such right handed, out swing doors are typically design with in mind - ergo, showing what way the portal appears to facilitate travel in.

Now, before you ask, the reason why I think the portal could have been created in the human realm in the first place is that it might require an extra component/bit of help or two from the Owl Deity which I’ve discussed before in the past as hinted by these connected designs:

I’ll explore how I feel the revelation that such a twist about the portal’s origins could play into the themes and narrative of the show under the cut, but overall, I feel these are potential significant details to keep in mind for the rest of this arc of building a new door and handling the idea of Lus having initially been made as a temporary-duration clone, hence how "Luz" comes off so uncannily in the letters as she wasn't meant for long term impersonations.

That, and why I named this the Human Portal Clone theory, for those wondering about the name.

Alongside this, my thought has been that walking back through the portal to the Human Realm basically makes the portal send a recall signal to tell the clone to return to it, where the clone would be reabsorbed into the portal and its memories are given to the original. However, with Luz going back into the Demon Realm for a brief time in YBOS, I am of the mind that it doesn’t just make another clone, but rather that doing so merely made the door turn off the recall signal and allowed "Lus" to resume the impersonation.

And as for the clone itself and why they’re writing letters to Camila, well, imagine it from Lus' perspective. To her at the time of creation, the last thing she probably knew was that she had been chasing the cute little owl that took her Azura book into the woods, and right when the bus to Reality Check Camp was about to arrive.

Also, if you think about it, Lus being the work of someone we/don’t know yet raises way more plot threads/questions than answers compared to being the work of the portal, as outlined below:

TLDR at end of post for those wondering

Belos? How and why before YBOS where he actually started paying attention to Luz for the first time and actually got his hands on a portal?

Eda? Why would she do all this and not tell Luz she can goof around without needing to worry about her mom or the camp/in time to fool the camp, especially when it took a good amount of time for Eda to even start feeling that close to Luz?

Hooty got ruled out from the getgo since he can’t hold pencils, King just isn’t that subtle, and everyone else that Luz knows has the major issues of just straight up not knowing about the camp in the first place. Well, that and a lack of another known method of getting to the Human Realm in the first place.

The camp? Why would they worry about a missing camper whose disappearance is all HER fault and thus would more logically result in a call to her parent than some convoluted clone conspiracy?

And finally, some currently completely unknown third party?

If we’re talking a Changeling, A) it’d be easy for Luz to dismiss them and B) that just makes all the ominous portrayal of Lus super straightforward instead of a subversion like is the show’s shtick.

If we’re talking dimensional counterparts, A) they have to REALLY have led a very similar life to Luz’s in order for there to be enough common ground for Luz to listen, and B) dimensional counterparts aren’t even a confirmed or likely thing that people cooked up from Episode 1 side characters influenced by Amity’s concept art.

And if we’re talking some complete surprise third party group or another, it doesn’t make sense to introduce a third party and their motives and plans to the show this late in when Belos is already taking up the bulk of it all.

Hell, if anything, the continued existence of the duplicate in of itself would indicate that the target of the conspiracy is none other than Camila Noceda than anything to do with Luz or Eda, especially with the complete lack of anyone taking advantage of Luz and or Eda.

From the getgo, Witches Before Wizards already hard-baked into the show the idea that Luz is NOT inherently special or anything into the foundations of the show from the getgo - ergo, Camila likely just is an absolutely regular human being, someone who has no justification for such a convoluted conspiracy to surround them.

That said, I believe that the idea of the portal having originated from the Human Realm could potentially play into some interesting stories to be had with Camila and Lus here, especially as the conspiracy board shot from the promo was confirmed by Dana to apparently be from S2A, not from the episodes past Yesterday’s Lie:

After all, with Luz searching the library for a way home this coming episodes, perhaps she might figure out something the next couple of episodes that allows her texts to send through, which would logically lead to the above picture. That, and Camila and Lus being confused by and trying to figure out what’s going on there.

I mean, the cabin in the woods likely has a very close connection to the portal and it’s origins given how closely tied the two structures seem to be, and as far as we can tell, Luz never mentioned the cabin in her videos to Camila, but if Lus tries to retrace her steps, that would be a natural vector to lead Camila to the cabin and thus allow us a chance to actually investigate it.

That said, all following the trail would do is lead her and Lus to a dead end at the abandoned cabin, where they would have nothing else to do except discuss their complicated relationship concerning Luz and twiddle their thumbs while waiting for Luz to finish things on her end - which while something I think would be interesting to see, I just don’t see how much of a way to keep them in the greater picture of the show without some kind of project or activity that the two of them could work together on on screen.

And that’s what leads me to a particular train of thought here, starting with the question of what if Luz FAILS to make a working portal over the course of S2A and such?

With the possible in-universe mystery over what the heck is going on with Lus, perhaps the cabin might hold some notes from the original last human owner - if not potentially the creator - of Eda’s portal as well as potentially some of the same materials and such from previous trips.

Cue CAMILA building a working portal, following in the footsteps of the original creator and such and thus finding a reason to stay on screen, all the while potentially demonstrating both why Belos wanted the portal instead of making his own, as well as diving into the Owl Deity’s connection with the original portal. Heck, maybe the Owl Deity is only accessible in the Human Realm and that plays a part in Belos wanting to get to the Human Realm, which would bring Camila directly into contact with the magic her daughter has been interacting with.

Also, just imagine the internal conflict going on here with Lus. After all, helping Camila build a portal to get the original Luz -and hoo boy would that be a tough thing to grapple with- would most definitely do that and make both Lus AND Camila question how much the latter likes Lus vs Luz.

Like, just imagine it. There would be major chances for Lus and Camila to discuss what would happen if and when they’re finished with the portal, and what will happen to Lus’ relationship with Camila if and when Luz gets back.

Does Camila really prefer her daughter to be all more “normal” like Lus, or does she prefer the old, “weird” daughter from before the summer with Luz?

Perhaps she might be able to figure out how to strike a nuanced balance between the two, and all on a metaphorical journey to truly build a better connection between her and her daughter(s?).

TLDR: Or in short, I can’t help but feel it would be fitting to see Camila building a bridge WITH Lus TO Luz.

Particularly, by being the one to craft an actual working portal in the Human Realm instead of Luz in the Demon Realm, showing a parent putting in an active effort to get down to their child’s level rather than waiting for said child to try to get up to their parent’s level even if they can’t or find it incredibly hard to do so.

#the owl house #the owl house theory #owl house theory #toh theory #toh #owl deity hooty theory #camila noceda #lus #lus noceda #luz noceda #toh speculation #the owl house speculation

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macaroni-rascal · 3 years

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Waxing poetic idea: virtuosity

First of all, what a concept for a waxing poetic, we love the pun, we love it all. Second of all, I have no idea just how long this has been sitting in my inbox, but better late than never, I suppose!

When I think virtuosity I generally think about music, so for the purposes of this post, I am going to focus on how Virtue and Moir are masters of musicality, as I can make a separate post about their general talent and skating skills.

I truly believe that Tessa and Scott were (and continue to be) the most musically inclined ice dance team ever. It’s nothing new, but Paul MacIntosh their old coach has spoken before saying there as just something natural about them and their ear for music, Tracy Wilson commented on them as juniors and early in senior as a team that really listened to their music and that they used their edges and knee bend to match the rhythm of the dance, etc. It was obvious that this team just had a certain ability and flow that went above and beyond what had been previously seen in the sport.

They were ice dancing to music, not figure skating to background noise.

There was always an impression that music meant a lot to them, and the emotional connection they felt to music was very important, the program they hated the most (Malaguena) was because they didn’t chose it themselves, and the program they had the most trouble with emotionally (The Seasons) was because they also couldn’t form a connection and tried to force something. The stunning thing about Tessa and Scott’s skating is that nothing ever looks forced, it all seems to be placed and done to maximize their ability, the music, and the art of figure skating. So, cmplpete with hyperlinks as well as gif credit, lets get into it.

I say that Valse Triste is one of my favourite free dance of theirs, but I don’t think people get just how much. In terms of how much a song can be elevated by movement, VM did everything correct with Vale Triste.

This perfect moment in the beginning where the music is drawn out and sweeping and so their movements match perfectly, I just love the ina bauer moment right on that first long violin sound, followed by Tessa’s nice deep long edge and then another sweeping movement. Also, the last lift directly on the crescendo of the music, when Tessa raises her hands into the air when the silence holds, and then again, that lovely piece of silence while Tessa is balancing on Scott and his squat. Then the last moment with Scott’s arms and the violin again... All of this matches the music so well, it very much feels like they had this choreographed already, and then Jean Sibelius wrote Valse Triste for them. So stunning.

Umbrellas of Cherbourg was just a piece of mastery in terms of hitting musical highlights. The first lift was so effective, all the of the step sequences were musical and lilting and joyous. I also love the moment in this gif, the abandon in their movements echoes the abandon in the song as Catherine Deneuve sings “je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas” and it really does feel like they can’t help but move this way. I don’t need to understand French to feel it, they made the movement match the music so well that it becomes universal. Special shout out to the fucking stunning backwards inside edge they both hit as they go around the corner. *chefs kiss*

What I also love about their virtuosity and their musicality is that they never really settled. They picked a very difficult piece of music for the Olympic year because it was the only music they felt any connection with. It was a hard program because they really took time to highlight the music, and the accents are quick and staccato. What’s stunning, is that I think anyone who watches/knows vm can perfectly hear the music that should be playing over the gif, and nothing else COULD be playing. So often, especially recently, I watch ice dance programs if feels like any generic music could be on and it wouldn’t change much. Tessa and Scott could never. Every movement and every moment is deliberate and on theme.

Tessa and Scott’s dance holds are a literal thing of beauty and should be studied. That doesn’t have much to do with what I am writing about currently, but I thought it needed to be said. Nights and Days is an all time favourite programs. We love a wango. I love the opening especially and how they go from a nice easy arm movement to two quick poses, then Tessa’s moment with that leg and giving that face, that hit the opening notes so well, only to have the music really begin with their leg kicks.

Let’s talk about how a waltz goes counterclock wise on a dance floor and is quick-quick-slow and Tessa and Scott started their program going counter clock wise around the rink, and having their movement begin slow-quick quick, slow-quick quick...because I’m never not thinking about it

There are so many moments in their free dance to Hip Hip Chin Chin that I desperately love and that I have yet to see gifs of it. Besides the stellar and iconic opening footwork, the coolest twizzles (accenting the drums with their transition into each twizzle), and some very cool lifts (I mean, hello temptation lift), I love the step sequences and the transitions in this program so much. Some favs include:

Tessa’s booty pop to the drums and her arm on “rhythm”

Tossing Scott and a literal hip hip chin chin

Hitting twizzles and free legs on beat

Tessa just in this moment and her arms

The “I can’t resist” moment and the silence as they just pull in on beat, throw their hand up on beat, and hug on the ice sensually

That little kick they do in the step sequence right on the double beat

Anyway, that program is a fucking wonder and the fact they only did it once fully in competition is a small tragedy.

Tessa’s twizzle from the Waltz goes on right on that stunning lick of effervescent music lives rent free in my head and will until I die.

As does the extension and flair Tessa gets in this one small hand and arm movement. More character in this tiny little one second gif of carmen than in the entirety of Davis and White’s Notre-Damn that year, quote me.

Carmen, in and of itself, is so fascinating and intricate from a music standpoint, they hit all the moments so well. Tessa’s second leap into the air on the curve lift, the ending pose for the twizzles, that rad as hell and incredibly difficult transition where Scott all but throws Tessa face first into the ice and she lands in a sort of lunge that took all season to perfect. I could go on.

I truly am, one day, going to make a post about Dream a Little Dream and how it is the best short dance program ever performed. In terms of virtuosity it is unmatched. Again, it is that type of program where you can so easily hear the music playing the background because everything just...fits. I can hear Ella crooning “stars shining bright aboooove you” as Tessa rounds around Scott and his arms flow along with the melody. I also love the moment with “sycamore tree” and the transition there. Shout out also having the solo lady twizzle in the finnstep right on the boom of the music. There are too many moments to count. The whole program is magic.

Another special shout out to the latch step sequences and especially how they changed the diagonal step so that Tessa’s double twizzle hit right on the music and created such a moment. I also love the straight line lift and how with the changes made so it was timed perfectly to be in a moment of silence between lyrics. Tessa and Scott know how to use the moments of silence and stillness just as much as they know how to use the moments of intensity and attack.

Moment of appreciation for the guitar lick during the rumba where they kick in as they get that chocktaw key point before the inside 3-turns. Iconic behavior.

What I love is that they dig deep into their music, really listen, and really try and make their movements and their program not only match the music, but elevate the music to the point where you hear things you maybe didn’t before because it never got highlight in that way before.

I love that they aren’t afraid to not only hit the big, in your face “rooooxaNNE” moment, but it’s that they chose to put it at the end of their twizzle sequence which needs perfect timing, perfect synchronicity, and perfect attack. Not to mention, the amazing head-head moment with the violin right after. But then! It’s not just the end of the twizzle sequence, because they also accent the music every where in between because the first set is on beat to the music as is the second set which leads into their arm transition in character and then we get the big moment. With Tessa and Scott, their musicality is such that they create these little micro pockets of moments amidst one giant moment that is their full program; because the twizzles fit perfectly in the program, but the twizzles also stand alone as their own moment of tension and release -- just magnificent.

Off topic, but gosh it always amazes me just how fast they are going into and through this lift. As I’ve mentioned previously, it’s not just the big accents they are hitting, but the small ones as well. It took me half the season to realize there is a lovely little piano lick right as Tessa backflips and rises up into position, just as the music is rising along with her and once again, it just feels right. No other teams owns the ice and owns their music quite like them. Because it’s not just that they are so musical, its that they have the ability to skate to all of these different types of music, and look at home in every single one. In that, they are objectively unparalleled.

When Tessa and Scott skate, it almost feels like the music is asking them to create something, and is ultimately grateful for them doing so.

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bittywitches · 4 years

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I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

#not me getting ~carried away~ as usual #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #ask #anon

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

How about some post-defection Spiderbyte, realising that they enjoy the domestic life?

*Checks fic continuity* Clearly I need more fics of Spiderbyte settling in to the Watchpoint.

----

Late afternoon light shined through the doorway as Sombra’s eyes flicked around the apartment skeptically. She could hear Widowmaker opening and closing drawers from the kitchen. A kitchen! A part of Sombra wanted to laugh at the concept--the illegal splinter cell of a disgraced UN Peacekeeping force having apartments with kitchens! But another part of her mind was flinching back from the idea. People didn’t just give apartments--the dormitory, yes, that was acceptable. Drafty, annoyingly exposed, literally anyone able to come down the stairs at any stupid moment because she and Widowmaker were defectors and therefore not to be trusted. But an apartment--an apartment with a kitchen---Sombra rapped a knuckle against the wall, frowning.

“It’s quite solid,” Symmetra explained behind her, “Since architectural hard-light’s primary function is, well, structure, it’s far more resilient than my other constructs you’ve seen.”

“Do... do you like it?” Winston’s voice seemed almost shy, just as laughable as this apartment.

“...what’s the catch?” said Sombra.

“Catch?” said Winston.

“You need me to hack into the Pentagon again, is that it?” said Sombra.

“Penta--I never asked you to hack into the Pentagon--When did you hack--? I just thought---”

“All the kitchen utilities are functioning?” Widowmaker cut in and Sombra shot her a bewildered look. This was Overwatch--not real estate agents!

“Well, with all the engineers and scientists on the team, and our resident architech, of course,” Winston gave a gesture to Symmetra, who gave a gracious nod, “It wasn’t all that much trouble to put together--”

“Yes or no?” said Widowmaker, turning the sink in the kitchen on and off.

“Yes,” said Winston, “Though uh... the higher settings on the oven may need some adjustments. Torbjorn’s been known to set things a little hot. But feel free to call us if you run into any trouble!”

Like a building super... thought Sombra with a short huff out her nostrils. It wasn’t exactly premium real estate--there was an ugly support column in the middle of their would-be living room, a remnant of the auxiliary server room for Athena this space used to be, but it was still pretty much right next to the other watchpoint apartments.

“And what was it you wanted me to do?” said Sombra.

“Live...here...?” said Winston, “Er--that is--you could stay in the dormitories if you prefer, but we figured with you risking your life on this team as much as anyone else...”

This team, the words caught Sombra.

“You might want a space with more... privacy,” said Symmetra, pressing her hands together in front of herself primly on the word ‘privacy.’ Sombra resisted snorting under her breath. As if Symmetra and Pharah had any right to judge with the way they swooned and hung on each other.

“You sure you can risk that?” said Sombra, arching her eyebrow, “Giving the Talon Defectors privacy?”

“Sombra...” Widowmaker started wearily.

“I’m just asking!” said Sombra.

“Trust is an important part of any team,” said Winston, as if that was obvious.

He keeps saying ‘team,’ Sombra rolled the words over in her mind, Are we on this team? I thought we were just trying not to die.

“We’ll try it out for a few days,” said Widowmaker.

“What?” said Sombra.

“If we don’t like it, we can stay in the dormitories,” Widowmaker finished, glancing at Sombra.

“You’re sure?” there was a brightness in Winston’s voice now. An earnest, ‘You like it?’ as he looked at Sombra.

“...a few days,” Sombra conceded, her side-eye flicking between Winston and Widowmaker.

“Excellent,” said Symmetra, quickly weaving miniature holograms of different furniture out of thin air just above her prosthetic arm, “Do you have any preferences for furniture? Revival? Craftsman? Ooh--! Bauhaus?”

“We’ll uh... just move in some futons from the dorms for now,” said Sombra, “...we’re old fashioned like that.”

“But--!” Symmetra started.

“Understandable,” said Winston, with a wave of his hand.

----

“...you’re being weirdly okay with this,” said Sombra, the first night.

“Vaswani was right. We’d be better off with privacy,” said Widowmaker, spooning her with her bare only faintly lavender-blue arm draped over Sombra.

They had shoved their dormitory mattresses together on the floor of the bedroom. The dim glow of evening hung at their window. Widowmaker liked having a window. It was a nice change from the dormitory.

“Well, yeah, but they’ll want something for it. No such thing as a free lunch,” said Sombra.

“Winston said we were already risking our lives just as much as anyone else on the team,” said Widowmaker.

“So this is what they want,” Sombra huffed, “Their stupid little ‘Team.’”

“Why shouldn’t we be on the same team? We’re just as invested in taking down Talon as they are... if not more so,” said Widowmaker.

“Do you hear yourself right now?” said Sombra, suddenly turning over on her mattress to look at Widowmaker dead in her yellow eyes, “You remember the reason why you’ve gone through all the shit you’ve gone through is because they failed you, right? They couldn’t protect you. I didn’t get us out of Talon so we could die for the people who should have kept you safe in the first place.”

“Do you think we’ll die for them?” said Widowmaker.

“I’m just saying we should be able to cut our losses if shit starts hitting the fan,” said Sombra, furrowing her brow.

Widowmaker smoothly tucked some of Sombra’s hair back from her temple, before craning her neck forward to kiss Sombra just between the eyebrows. “My survivor,” she said, running her hand down the side of Sombra’s face, “I hold you to no fate but what you choose.”

Sombra’s brow crinkled. “Don’t do that,” she said quietly.

“Mm?”

“Don’t act like you’re just a part of this fight and not an entire fucking person,” Sombra’s voice was thick.

Widowmaker’s face softened at her words, and she pulled Sombra close, setting her chin on top of Sombra’s head.

“I’m sticking with you, you get that, right?” Sombra’s voice was quiet against her collarbone, “I don’t do that for anyone. You--” Sombra’s voice took on a dense, suppressed quality, like she was stuffing a sob down to the pit of her solarplexus, “You might be the first. I don’t remember having anyone in my life I would be willing to do that for. And I hate it. I feel stupid. I feel--” she huffed a breath against Widowmaker’s neck.

“...Are you afraid of having a home?” said Widowmaker, smoothing Sombra’s hair slightly.

“This isn’t a home. It’s an apartment they whipped up out of junk, hard light and an old server room,” said Sombra.

“I’m not talking about this place. I’m talking about me. I’m talking about you,” Widowmaker’s whisper hung in the air of the room.

Sombra pulled away slightly to study Widowmaker’s face. Widowmaker looked back at her with placid affection.

“...I don’t think I can be anyone’s home,” muttered Sombra, breaking eye contact, “I’ve built so much of myself around climbing up, tearing down, and disappearing.”

Widowmaker ran her fingers down the spinal implants running down the back of Sombra’s neck. “You’ve been the surest thing in my life for a while now,” she said quietly.

“Says a lot about you, huh?” Sombra fell back into the safety of her own snarking, a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth, but it faded as Widowmaker curved her body around her, holding her tighter. Widowmaker closed her own eyes but knew Sombra’s were open.

“...it’s not that bad,” Sombra said after a few minutes of silence, “...as far as a converted server room goes...better than the dormitories, anyway.”

“Mm,” Widowmaker grunted in agreement.

“...would probably be a better place for the new processors....” Sombra murmured. Widowmaker smiled a little sleepily. At the very least, she could trust Sombra to push practicality in front of her own Crisis Orphan hangups. There was an incredible bravery in that, Widowmaker thought. Another few minutes of silence passed, and the words in the air of the room sank down, surrendering to Widowmaker and Sombra’s mutual exhaustion.

“Mon coeur?” Widowmaker said at last.

“Mm?” Sombra stirred in her arms.

“...we’re having Satya put in a bedframe,” said Widowmaker.

Sombra snorted.

----

Over the next few weeks their apartment (their apartment) came to be furnished with a mix of hard-light, what they could manage to grab from rummage sales and giveaways around Gibraltar, and a few bits of furniture Sombra had delivered to an anonymous P.O. box and had definitely not paid for with her own money. The dining room table was hard-light, the couch was not. The bedframe was hard-light, the mattresses were not. The apartment came to remind Sombra of an art piece where sections were being painted in but there were still swathes where the sketch and canvas were still visible. Moving her own processors in to the apartment was probably what marked the mental change from “just trying it out” to “dwelling place” for Sombra. There was a caginess in her she knew would never fully leave, but she did appreciate having what she could call “A base of operations” to get back to from missions.

The Watchpoint itself seemed to come more of a firmament in that time--what had previously felt like squatting started to feel like something... almost like a neighborhood. “Compound” would have been the closest word but that didn’t seem right either. Not disciplined like a Talon base, but the rocket launchpad, the hangar, the turrets, and the fact that virtually everyone on the base was more or less equipped to fight Talon, including a clunking Crisis-era bastion unit, made it feel significantly removed from any normal living situation. And yet, opening the door to the apartment and smelling food cooking filled her with a feeling she couldn’t describe, or maybe didn’t want to describe because giving it shape might make it that much harder to deal with when it was inevitably ripped away from her.

“What is that?” said Sombra, closing the front door behind her and trailing into the kitchen.

“A poor man’s cassoulet,” Widowmaker answered from their well-worn couch, not looking up from her book, “...technically all cassoulets are that but--” she gave a dismissive wave, not looking up from the book, “Anyway. They had white beans and frozen chicken in the watchpoint mess hall.”

“Since when did you cook?” said Sombra, a slight laugh shaking the word ‘cook.’

“It was on Ziegler’s recommendation... try new things, maybe get more involved in the process of making food to get myself more used to the concept of... eating,” she glanced up from her book at Sombra, “How was session 97 of spilling hundreds of secrets Talon will most certainly kill you for?”

Sombra snickered and slid over the arm of the couch, “Same old same old,” she said with a shrug, “When’s dinner ready?”

“Another half hour. But I warn you: I don’t even know if it’s edible,” said Widowmaker, setting her book down.

“I trust you,” said Sombra, with mock offense.

“Or are you hungry and don’t want to bother with heading to the mess hall?” said Widowmaker.

“It’s called multitasking,” said Sombra, bringing up a purple screen with a flick of her wrist, “What’re you in the mood for? Action? Period drama?”

“...you have some of the powerful known neural interfacing technology in the world grafted onto you, and you’re using to pretend to be a streaming service?” said Widowmaker.

“Hey, I’m not a streaming service for just anybody,” said Sombra, snuggling in close to Widowmaker.

“Mm... something short,” said Widowmaker.

“And in black and white? And depressing?” said Sombra.

“Ha-ha,” said Widowmaker dryly, adjusting herself so that she and Sombra were comfortably leaning against each other as Sombra mindlessly flicked through different data streams.

“...this is weird, isn’t it?” said Sombra, still scrolling.

“It’s... certainly unlike anything we were doing with Talon,” said Widowmaker.

“Should we stop?” said Sombra, bringing up several pre-crisis media streams and leafing through them.

“...no,” said Widowmaker after a beat, “I... I like this.”

Sombra turned her head to look at Widowmaker and smiled, then kissed her on the jawline. “You’re getting soft,” she said, teasingly.

“I am not.”

“You really are.”

“So are you.”

“Am not.”

“You’re worse than me.”

“Don’t make me put something terrible on, Araña.”

#spiderbyte #overwatch #widowmaker #sombra

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thatgamefromthatad · 3 years

Text

3 more games like Merge Mansion - the genre is evolving!

More and more games like Merge Mansion (two-item merge games) are being released and I can hardly keep up, but I’m glad because I find this genre so satisfying! Here I’ll review three more relatively new games, which are all unique in that they break off quite a bit from the original Merge Mansion, and include their own mechanics not seen in the other Merge Mansion-esque games I’ve covered!

You can see my original Games like Merge Mansion review here, although it’s quite outdated as many of those games have made significant changes since I wrote that in early March. I’ll try to add some updates to the original post sometime in the near future to better reflect that current status of each of those games. You can also find links to the other two-item merge games I’ve previously reviewed in my final ranking at the end!

Read my full reviews of Plantopia, Merge Adventure and City Boom below:

***

Plantopia: Merge Garden (Early Access)

Developer: Voodoo

Release Date: May 7, 2020 (Early Access)

This game is an interesting one because I only found it recently and started seeing ads for it recently although it’s apparently been around for about a year. I’m thinking it was soft launched and only recently made available in my region. The title screen indicates it’s still early access so that would make sense.

An initial release/soft launch date of May 2020 would actually make it older than Merge Mansion, which I believe was released in Sept. 2020. However I’m not sure about the exact timeline as they could have been in development/soft launched around the same time and the games are actually quite different overall so the basic similarities could be a coincidence.

This game truly amazed me because although it has the basic elements of what I would consider a Merge Mansion-like game, that being the two-item merge mechanic on a two-dimensional grid-like board viewed from the top, with item generators and item collection objectives, it’s otherwise very different from the other two-item merge games I’ve played. There are at least three separate boards, possibly more considering the tool shed and flower lab unlock a bit later in the game, and instead of completing objectives by getting items right off the board, you use items from the greenhouse and tool shed boards to start growing plants and then harvest the resources. The flower lab adds an additional step, as you can take the plants you’ve harvested to that board and merge them further to create bouquets and oils etc.

This game is probably the most complex and challenging out of all the two-item merge games I’ve played, which I think makes it more fun but less relaxing. Basically if I want something to play mindlessly while chilling out and watching YouTube videos I would play Merge Mansion or Merge Friends, but when I want to play something more advanced and for a longer period of time I play Plantopia.

🌼 Art: 3/3 (although I mostly prefer all 2D art, this game does the 3D/2D mixture better than some other games and I just love the colors and style of the different plants, boards and products. It all feels very “cottagecore” as the kids these days would say lol. The 2D character designs are also OK and pretty cute)

🌼 Story: 2/3 (it’s definitely a step above the “moving into this old mansion with my grandparents” story, I did get to know the characters a little better and some of the objectives are plot-related, such as growing aloe to help another character with his sunburn, or growing a special flower that reminds another character of her late husband etc. But I wasn’t really feeling like I wanted to learn more, and the storyline didn’t have a huge influence on my overall experience)

🌼 Gameplay: 5/5 (definitely the strongest game in terms of gameplay in my opinion, like I said it is more challenging and there’s more to think about but it makes for a really fun and varied experience!)

🌼 Variety: 2/3 (although there are three whole boards and you unlock different plants as you go along, there isn’t as much variety in the merging part since you basically just merge seeds into sprouts, sprouts into younger plants etc. until you have the full plant to place in a plot. You know exactly what you’re merging up to and there’s no thrill of discovering a new item by merging up. The items also come from boxes or from preset, unmovable generators so there’s no fun in discovering new generators either. But it is cool that each plant has its own planting requirements like more water, more fertilizer, more light etc.)

🌼 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 4/4 (another huge advantage of this game, there’s no energy system so you can play for very long, the only time constraint is waiting for plants to grow)

🌼 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (I’m definitely very impressed with this game but the things I mentioned in the Variety section are probably the biggest thing that prevents me from giving it a 5/5 overall. It is exciting when you unlock something new by progressing through the game but I especially enjoy moving up item ranks and discovering new generators, so in that area this game didn’t really do it for me. But otherwise it’s really a great game and a very unique entry within this genre!)

🌼 Total: 20/23

Merge Adventure - Dragons!

Developer: Ludigames

Release Date: March 25, 2021

First of all, even though the full name of this game includes the word dragons, I haven’t seen a single dragon unless one was mentioned in the written adventure logs, which I don’t usually read.

With that out of the way, this is another very unique game in terms of merge games as it is also an RPG. Some of the items you merge on the board are used to equip your hero, while others are used to unlock new adventures that yield different loot upon completion. You don’t actually get to engage in battles since the adventures themselves run on an idle system where you just get an adventure log to read to how your hero is doing and then collect the loot after a certain period of time. It is definitely something new for two-item merge games and deserves credit for the unique concept, but execution-wise it unfortunately fell short in a lot of ways.

🗡 Art: 1/3 (the art here isn’t necessarily awful but it is on the uglier side compared to a lot of the other games in this genre, specifically the board pieces. Maybe I’m biased because I prefer fun and colorful items, and these items involve a lot of wood and metal and such, but the board often seems so monochrome I can’t even tell certain items apart or remember which item track they belong to. Some of the level 1 items are just differently-shaped scraps of metal. The hero design isn’t bad but I only have one character to base that opinion on. We’ll get to that later)

🗡 Story: 2/3 (I honestly can’t remember if there’s an overarching plot but I will give it a point for the adventure logs, even though I usually don’t read them, it is cool that you can read what your character’s doing and how they obtained the loot they ultimately bring back)

🗡 Gameplay: 2/5 (I want to give it more points for being unique but despite the interesting concept I did have trouble with the gameplay. First of all, it has one of the smallest boards out of all the games I’ve played and a lot of different generators, which guarantees your board will become clogged very quickly. The numbers in the corners of each tile are supposed to help you keep track of what level items you have I presume, but they only make an already cluttered board look more cluttered, and the fact that I already couldn’t tell some of the item designs apart means having all the items crowded and jumbled makes for a very confusing and frustrating experience. Getting new items through loot from adventures seemed cool but then led to more frustration with more items to squeeze onto my fully packed board. Also I have no clue how to get more heroes, I’ve only had one this whole time playing so far, so there’s not much more to the RPG experience other than equipping more powerful items)

🗡 Variety: 2/3 (technically there’s a wide variety of items but as mentioned previously the very monochrome nature of the items makes the experience feel less varied and you can barely enjoy discovering new items when you’re just trying to find space on the board 90% of the time. Also, most of the item tracks just go: item, bigger item, bigger fancier item, biggest fanciest item, or, piece of item, more pieces of item, mostly put-together item, fully assembled item)

🗡 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 1/4 (your time is limited by the energy system, generators needing to refill AND waiting for your hero to return from an adventure)

🗡 Overall Enjoyment: 2/5 (sadly I didn’t really enjoy this game, although I guess my favorite part would be merging up weapons and other equippable items to make my hero more powerful, which isn’t something I could really do in any of these other games)

🗡 Total: 10/23

City Boom

Developer: Playwind Ltd.

Release Date: April 9, 2021

This game is very interesting as it’s the only merge game I’ve personally played that has you compete against other players. This game actually works pretty much exactly like a game I played loooooong ago called Coin Masters, where you gain coins by attacking or raiding other people’s bases while spending coins to build up your own base. The main difference here of course is that the other way to get coins is to merge items and complete requests, while in Coin Masters it was like a slot machine thing. I checked and they are not made by the same developer.

Anywho, the multiplayer aspect of this game was exciting since I definitely have a competitive streak, and I’ve been playing every day to try and climb up the leaderboard (I’m in the top 1,000 so far lol!) However this game is still new and pretty wonky, and it aggressively tries to get you to buy things, much more than any of the other two-item merge games. Also, this game is one of those games that’s very reliant on a constant internet connection so if you don’t have great internet (which I don’t) you will have a lot of issues with the game freezing, just a heads up.

💰 Art: 3/3 (I got to admit I’m a sucker for the cute, colorful and cartoony, and I just can’t get enough of the silly little cats in this game 😂 I appreciate that the 3D art style in this game is very consistent in all parts of the game, and this game also has 3D animated sections: for example, when you go to attack another player a cat rolls up in a little tank and rockets fly around)

💰 Story: 2/3 (there isn’t really a linear story but I give it a point for the different themed areas you progress through as you grow your town, plus the personality put into the cat characters)

💰 Gameplay: 3/5 (I do enjoy this game, especially the fact that I get to compete against other players, but there are a few issues. This game has a lot of limited time events, there’s seriously like 2 or 3 running at a time and seem to change every day, which does add some fun and variety, but creates a unique problem of having event-specific items on the board that I don’t know what to do with when the event ends. I don’t know if that event will come back again or if those items are just completely useless and should be sold now. Currently they’re just keeping my board very clogged. Also, this game really aggressively pushes overpriced microtransactions, which can get very annoying, but I will say that I was still able to play and enjoy the game a fair amount without paying anything. Lastly, the items make a really off putting clunk sound when they merge. May not seem important but it makes the merges less satisfying for me personally)

💰 Variety: 2/3 (There is a variety of event items but as far as the main items there’s very little variety, basically just four categories of items, so I put this in the middle)

💰 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (what I like is that there are a lot of chances to get extra energy but what I don’t like is that rather than having energy refresh one at a time every few minutes, you have to wait like half an hour for all the energy to refill at once)

💰 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (honestly despite all my criticisms of it I kept coming back to this game, I really enjoy the competitive aspect and none of the problems with it are to the point where it seriously impedes my ability to play. That’s why I kind of have a separate category for overall enjoyment to begin with, because even if a game scores well or poorly in specific categories that won’t necessarily reflect my overall experience)

💰 Total: 16/23

Rankings

Plantopia (scored the same as Travel Town but after playing Travel Town for a while I’ve gotten more bored with it. Plantopia is the new reigning champion! 🎉)

Travel Town

Merge Design

Mergedom: Home Design

Merge Friends

Miss Merge

Merge Mansion

City Boom (scored the same as Merge Mansion but I preferred it less)

Merge Life (note: the linked review is outdated as the game has undergone a lot of updates since I wrote it, I will update it at some point but take the current version with a grain of salt)

Merge Matters

Merge Villa

Merge Adventure (scores the same as Merge Villa but I think I was a little harsh on Merge Villa to begin with, this game is much less playable)

Thank you so much for reading!!! I hope these reviews helped you if you enjoy merge games as much as I do! 💖 You can find more of my full game reviews here and follow me for more stuff about mobile games. Have a great day 🥳

#mobile games #merge games #plantopia #gardening games #merge mansion #merge adventure #city boom #rpg #mass multiplayer games #cat games #full review #casual games #weapons tw #image descriptions in alt text

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shealwaysreads · 4 years

Text

the plant that doesn’t bloom

A fic for @fae-vorite and the stunning art and concept she shared with us all! I hope you like this, darling! ❤️

Drarry | 2k | 8th Year, EWE, cursed!draco, when a curse is not a curse

Summary: Apologies, and homecoming, and forgiveness tucked into the petals of a rose.

Read it on Ao3

...

Malfoy had come back to Hogwarts different.

The war had tempered him. His trial had quenched the fire in his eyes. Rebuilding Hogwarts had smoothed the rough edges of his ego, his trauma, his regret.

They had all had a week off, before term began in September, after toiling under the summer sun to restore their school. Big magic and small. Levitating fresh stones to rebuild towers, spinning panes of glass out of sand from the shore of the Black Lake, learning how to cast spells without the fear of the Carrows.

Malfoy hadn’t spoken at first, not to anyone. Harry wondered if he’d been cursed mute, for a while, until he heard him approach Hermione with a grave face and a quiet voice.

“May I have a moment of your time, Granger?”

That was the first of many approaches he made over July and August. Harry watched him step towards them all; Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna, and students Harry didn’t even know. Always serious, always respectful, always quiet. He spoke to almost everyone, even the teachers. But not to Harry. Not until the final day of their summer labours.

“Potter. May I—can we talk?”

Harry looked around at his friends—they wouldn’t judge him if he said no to Malfoy. Ron had told him that Malfoy had apologised to him when they spoke, had admitted familial responsibility for the generations old feud between their families, even offered restitution. Ron had accepted the end of the feud, but rebuffed any payment. He’d said Malfoy seemed to have grown a backbone, and a conscience. Ron thought he was still ‘a posh twat’, but that maybe, maybe Malfoy wasn’t as bad under it all than they had thought. Maybe even Malfoy had learned a thing or two about right and wrong, in the end.

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Malfoy would say to him, wasn’t sure what kind of apology he would receive, wasn’t even sure he had the strength to lose the stability of hating Malfoy.

(But he hadn’t hated him. Not since Sectumsempra. Not since the Astronomy tower. Not since ‘I can’t be sure’. He’d pitied him, despised his misplaced loyalty to his parents, wondered how he survived—but not hated. Harry wasn’t sure he was made for hate.)

“Alright, Malfoy. Have at it.”

Malfoy led him to the shade of the big oak tree, away from the rest of the group, near the shore of the lake. He looked anxious, clenching his jaw and fussing at the cuff of his robes.

“Potter, I would like to formally apologise for… Well. For everything, I suppose. For my own actions, for my father’s too. From our first meeting I have been an example of everything I now understand to be rotten at the heart of my family, and—”

Harry interrupted him. “I don’t want an apology from your father or your family, Malfoy. You can only really speak for yourself.”

Malfoy swallowed, hard. “I am sorry. If I had ‘just’ been a bully that would be bad enough, but I wasn’t that. I was cruel to you and your friends, and then dangerous and violent too. I could blame it on my upbringing, the prejudice I was raised to believe, but—” he lifted his chin, steeling himself for something. “But it started because I was jealous and angry, and that’s inexcusable. So. I apologise.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, he didn’t think he was ready to digest it, really. What do you say when someone apologises to you, but you don’t want to forgive them?

“Thanks. For saying sorry.” That would do, wouldn’t it?

But Malfoy didn’t walk away, or anything helpful like that. He reached into his robes instead, and pulled out a tiny silver box, engraved with delicate curlicues that glinted in the late summer sun.

“This is for you. It’s not a gift, you understand. It’s yours by right.” He held it out to Harry, and for want of a better option, Harry took it. “My mother...took things from the Black household when she was younger. For her own use. But these were Sirius Black’s diaries, and I understand she never managed to read them. Anhaga boxes are infamous for their loyalty to their owner.”

It was like a punch to the gut. This tiny box, no bigger than his palm, held Sirius’ secrets, his life recorded in his own words.

“If she couldn’t—how can I?”

“Blood, I imagine. That kind of privacy is pricey. But you’re his godson. That’s family, more than any relation he had to my mother. It will work.”

And with that, Malfoy turned and walked away, leaving Harry in the dappled shade with a handful of Sirius’ precious thoughts.

Malfoy had been right. A drop of blood was all it took to enlarge the Anhaga box, and to open it. Out spilled parchment, notebooks, letters, folded posters and flyers, and dogeared photographs. Most of it was in Sirius’ own scratchy handwriting, but some of the letters were in James’ scrawl. Harry’s dad had written them to Sirius. Moments of youthful joy and intimacy, secrets and mundanities, quotes and song lyrics, newly discovered spells, and stories of flings and firsts, shared between best friends. Brothers by choice.

Harry had wept, and read, and laughed, and read, and for the first time in his life he knew what his father thought about Quidditch teams, and Bowie, and how no hair potions worked on him either (much to Sirius’ delight), and that he had adored Harry’s mother—adored her, had written long paragraphs doubting his worthiness of her time, of his hope she might smile at him, that she might want him back, one day, no doubt seeking the reassurance and commiseration from Sirius.

It hurt, but he read them all. It hurt, but it was a gift. It hurt, but Harry touched each piece of paper like a talisman, like a blessing.

The first of September was bitter-sweet, but alongside the taste of loss, Harry was excited for his last year at Hogwarts. Returning to his first real home, with his first—and best—friends by his side. No doom lay ahead of him, no danger. Just homework, and exams, and treacle tart.

And Harry had never dreamed of much, not much more than space and light and safety and people who loved him, but he had found them all when he walked through the great oak doors of Hogwarts, and not even a war—not even dying—had taken them away.

They might be adults now, grasping onto the fading threads of childhood before they launched themselves into the unknown, but Harry thought they’d earned this. A year’s respite from the world. A warm interlude to relax, to lick their wounds, to dance in the stark joy of life, to take back that stolen year.

The Welcome Feast was stupendous, and Harry’s face hurt from grinning so widely when Professor McGonagall stood to give her first speech as Hogwarts Headmistress. Seamus blew up a goblet of spiked Pumpkin juice, Ginny snogged Dean, and Harry was flanked by Ron and Hermione—warm, and full, and content.

He was even happy the next morning, waking up to cold flagstones and a shared bathroom, Ron’s monosyllabic pre-breakfast grunts, and Neville’s rather excitable Flaming Geranium (he was pretty sure the House Elves could fix the curtains around his bed.) He was happy striding through the halls down to breakfast, head and shoulders above the tiny little first years who were more interested in finding their way to class than looking at his forehead. He was happy until he heard the whispers about Malfoy, and glanced reflexively across the room to the Slytherin table.

Malfoy was different. Still pale, still silver-eyed. But his skin was marred by dark twisting shapes, writhing against his skin. Cursed were the whispers. But Harry had never seen a curse like this. So he watched.

“Harry, don’t you think—oh, never mind.” Hermione broke off, sighed, and turned to talk to Parvati.

His first lesson was Potions—he wasn’t sure he wanted to be an Auror, but he wanted the option so he was back in Slughorn’s class—it was an eighth year only class with all of the houses mixed, so of course Malfoy was there too. He sat with Terry Boot, and seemed to work well enough with him. Harry followed him to the supply cupboard when he went to fetch ingredients, and took the opportunity to look closer at the strange marks on his skin. They were briars, curling around his wrists, his hands, trailing up his throat, to the line of his jaw. Green-black and thorny, they seemed to move with him, breathe with him, even as the points of their barbs pressed against pale skin.

“New tattoos?” He asked. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Malfoy’s apology, of his quietude, of the tumult of confused emotion that stirred in Harry’s chest whenever he was confronted with him. The feelings that boiled inside him, worse than ever, after he gave Harry Sirius’s papers.

Malfoy sighed. Clearly Harry wasn’t the first to ask. “No, Potter, not a tattoo.”

“A curse, then?”

“Of a sort, yes.” He reached past Harry’s face to take a jar of lacewing fly. “You can have these when I’ve taken a couple.”

And then he was gone, leaving Harry confused and lacewing-less in an empty cupboard.

At lunch, Harry squeezed in beside Hermione and her towering pile of books, the question spilling out before he gave it conscious thought.

“Have you seen the things on Malfoy? They look like—”

“Harry, really? It’s been one day.” She was laughing as she cut him off, though, and so was Ron next to her, even though he pretended to be very interested in his plate. “Look, before we start this, are you suspicious of him, or are you just curious?”

He paused, his sandwich halfway to his mouth, and thought for a moment. “I think I’m just curious.”

She sighed, but smiled as she answered him. “Well, okay then. I think it’s a Motus Charm.”

“Not a—“

“No, not a curse. Though, functionally, I suppose…”

She trailed off, and Harry could sense an incoming debate about the differences between spell classifications and the intention of the caster (all eighth years had been enrolled on a new course in magical ethics, and the debate across the first class that morning had already been fiery) so he interrupted her before she could get on a roll. “Hermione, what does it do?”

“Well, it creates markings on a person’s skin that give an insight into their emotional state. It gives movement to what moves them.”

“So...those thorns are how Malfoy feels?” Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. About Malfoy feeling, well, restricted by vines, pressed against by thorns. As far as metaphors went, it didn’t look good. Worse still, Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about the world getting to see it all. It was bad enough when the papers made up nonsense about how Harry was ‘coping emotionally’ post-war—he couldn’t imagine the agony of them actually knowing for sure.

“It appears that way. I just wonder who cast it on him, he didn’t have them during the summer, and apparently he had them at the welcome feast—so it wasn’t done by a student.” Hermione was frowning, the same crease between her brows when she didn’t agree with something. She hadn’t said much about what Malfoy talked to her about when he apologised, just that he was ‘thorough and straightforward’. Since then she’d not been friendly toward him, but she’d certainly been civil. Apparently he’d made enough of an impact on her that she disapproved of him being cursed—or charmed—like this.

“Can it be cured?”

“According to Flitwick, it fades naturally, once the witch or wizard under the charm begins to actually talk about their feelings. Or, at least, begins to feel understood. So, it depends, I suppose.”

Harry looked over at Malfoy, he was flipping through a book, sipping tea, and studiously ignoring the stares he was receiving from half the student body. The briars were slow moving, more settled than when Harry had spoken to him during their Potions class. Maybe that meant he was calmer. Maybe that meant that Harry stressed him out.

But as he stood and left the Slytherin table, those coils of dark vines and thorns writhed again across his pale skin. Harry was up and out of his seat, following him into the corridor beyond, without a second thought. Behind him, Harry could hear Ron muttering something to Hermione about ‘feelings’ and ‘curiosity’, but he didn’t have time to stop and question it. Not when Malfoy was already ahead of him, and Harry wanted to catch him before the press of the rest of the school filled the halls.

“Malfoy! Wait!”

And Malfoy did wait, which was weird enough that Harry almost did an about turn and scurried back to the Gryffindor table. He stopped and turned as Harry jogged up to him, and he looked calm and collected—his face impassive and carefully blank—but the barbed stems that licked up to his jaw, and curled over his knuckles, were black and razor-sharp.

“I wanted—” What had Harry wanted? To ask, to interrogate, to find out who, and when, and why? But looking at Malfoy now, and the discomfort written on his skin for all to see, Harry suddenly felt disinclined to ask him to expose himself further. So, no questions. For now. “I wanted to say thanks. For Sirius’ things. It was—I really—You didn't have to.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but the thorns at his throat seemed to lose their keen edge. “No, I suppose I didn’t. But you’re welcome. I’m glad it opened for you.”

“And about your apology,” Harry continued, eyeing the litmus-test of foliage on Malfoy’s skin. “I wasn’t sure how I felt, in the summer, when you said sorry.”

“It’s okay Potter, I know I don’t have any right to—”

He broke off, silent and staring as Harry stepped forward and held out his hand, and for long moments Harry wondered if he might not take it. If this time, it would be Malfoy leaving Harry with his offer of connection hanging, rejected, between them. But then Malfoy reached out his own arm and took Harry’s hand in his, and it was pale and wand-calloused, and his fingers were slimmer than Harry’s, but his grip was firm and steady, and warm.

“Apology accepted, Malfoy. I reckon even we might deserve a fresh start this year, don’t you?”

Malfoy didn’t speak; but before Harry’s eyes, those dark vines slowed, ripened into a spring green, and flowers bloomed on Malfoy’s skin. Pale roses unfurled, soft and blushing at their centre. One curved around the back of Malfoy’s hand, where Harry still held firm, and another blossomed at the spot where his collar was loose at his throat.

Maybe Harry didn’t need Malfoy’s words. Words had always been hard for them. For now, maybe he could learn to understand him through thorns and petals.

❤️ to @tackytigerfic for the always-excellent beta read, and @slytherco for the cheer-reading!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #hpdm #drarry squad #things to read #mine #inspired by art #fae-vourite #hp #isobel writes #my fic

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shikantazaart · 3 years

Text

Shikantaza Creativity Interview III - SPARTALIEN

At Shikantaza we are not content to just create art. We want to understand art. We want to understand the people who make art. Into the act of creation. Who are the people behind the art work? What motivates them? Where do they find their inspiration?

No two people think and act alike, so it is even less likely to find two artists who think and act alike. Yet, there will be crossovers, shared thoughts and shared experiences. Where do we adjoin and where do we diverge?

Our series of interviews with artists and creators aims to answer these questions.

In interview number three we speak to multimedia experimenter SPARTALIEN. You can find his creations here https://spartalien.com/visual as well as a collection of his work in the Shikantaza gallery.

1 - Starting with the most important question - Who is Memoria?

Memoria is Latin and means, when translated, memory / remembrance.

I named the merchandise for the album "2358" Memoria instead of Memory, because the main track titles are also translated into Latin.

I see my merchandise as small memories/artefacts. Not only because they are very rare, but because I can never go back to that time.

“Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things” - Cicero

2 - You work across different mediums. Do you have any preference for a specific form? When did you first find the format that was “you”?

I became really infected with the digital virus around in the late 90s when I built my first computer. A year or two later I started taking photos and manipulating them digitally. I also had a few printed, which allowed me to bring the digital into the real world. Then I discovered IRC and started learning a little bit of TCL. Since I had fun coding, I decided to learn the basics of web development because I needed a website to show my pictures to other people. In general, I was fascinated by the flow of information on the Internet. That distance is no longer a real hurdle when it comes to data transmission.

I've always loved music as a listener and small collector. I was then and still am one of those people who never go out of the house for long periods of time without a Walkman. Music production came into play when a couple of friends set up a small studio where they produced Techno/Psy. When I was there for the first time, I knew immediately that I wanted to try it too. A few old tracks from back then are still available on my website.

From then on, many of my projects have developed in the direction of music. The input for a program was often music metadata or it was a website that was about music in some way or another. But since I was still at the very beginning of my learning process, I kept discarding practically everything in order to improve it or to learn new things. Around 2001, I started a web radio with friends, which was online for several years. The music was mainly Downtempo, Trip-Hop, IDM and Ambient. Promos from unknown artists from around the world were also broadcasted.

The atmosphere, the feeling I got from this time - how the music finds me and not the other way around, how it can change people's thoughts - has never left me since then.

3 - Do you feel that each medium allows you to express yourself differently from the others? How do you choose which medium you work in any given moment?

Yes. But I think you can convey the same feelings with any medium. The question is how direct it is. For example, pain can be expressed with fire but also with a chair in an empty room. At the end of the day, in my opinion, it's not about the artist's intention but about the perception of the viewer and his or her subsequent thoughts and actions. For example, imagine you make a dark ambient track that you experience as sad and heavy, but someone else tells you that it helped to relax and develop thoughts.

In addition to all of this, each medium also has advantages and disadvantages when it comes to technical implementation. So, sometimes the choice can also purely depend on skill or resources.

We all have ideas and often out ambitions outweigh our resources. Sometimes we need more resources, but more often than not we need to chip away at our ideas until our ambitions and resources align.

4 - Do you seek different sources of inspiration for your music than you would for your visual creations?

It's everything in the world around me that inspires me. Everything I perceive and feel, so to speak. Most of the time I don't have a melody or a picture in my head. It is more of a feeling and then I look for the right tone or shape for it, so to speak.

5 - How closely are your creations connected to each other?

Very close one could say - through my thoughts that I have wrapped in it. I always had a bit of a problem putting my thoughts into words. I tend to stray through various topics when I talk about something. With music and visuals, it feels lighter and more natural to get to the point. The "message" doesn't always get through, but being able to do so is liberating and invaluable to me.

6 - If you were to direct people to a specific piece of work that you feel really nails what you are aiming for with your creations, which would it be?

This is a hard question. Maybe I would ask you to sit down and listen to the album "FLOATING HIGH" in one sitting. Since it felt like coming home to me while making it. The music is less intrusive and not as precise in its message as the previous releases. Like its cover art, where the clouds could be seen as opening or closing. I wanted to create tracks that leave more room for thought while still telling a story.

7 - You have “X minutes of peace” on your site. Why is this needed? Was this made for you or for others?

For others but also for myself. For me it is self-reflection that allows me to understand myself better. But since I have problems with "just switching off my head", the moments in which I just sit quietly and let the recording device do its work are very valuable. In moments like these I can really switch off and think about something very carefully. Asking questions even though I feel like I don't have an answer. Or simply enjoying the precious fresh air and sounds of nature.

Unfortunately, too many people don't have time for that kind of peace. Too much pressure is on them. They either get this or that, or they can't survive. It's so sad how the system works. I simply think that if everyone would have more inner-peace, the world would be a better place. But then again, what do I know living under a rock between mountains?

The videos should allow us to find peace for a few minutes, no matter where we are. So that new and hopefully useful thoughts can develop.

The series Let It All Go is actually the same thing, just with music.

For the really dark hours there is BRAIN I/O. From time to time I prefer to embrace the pressure. Difficult to describe. The concept is basically: don't think, just feel and record it. It's about things that I personally want to leave behind or at least want to learn to accept (not necessarily being okay with) them if I can't change them.

Peace is an issue for me. When I briefly find it only points the way to the next act. This is fantastic but self defeating. Why can’t we just stay in peace?

8 - When inspiration has left the building where do you look to find it?

I'm not really actively looking for inspiration. Somehow it doesn't work that way for me. So variety is important to me. That is why I usually have several side projects going on in the areas that I do not much publicize. Much of it never leaves my hard drive and is mainly intended to free my mind and get on to new ideas in the process. Coding, graphics, drawing, etc. But the music production is and remains the main focus.

9 - These are the questions I am asking all the interviewees. Why do you create? What is it that pushes you to keep creating?

The inner child is just too strong. I've been living for a while and I know exactly nothing. It kind of feels like that. So many things that you can create with the computer alone. I'm stuck in that loop where you just love to create things and learn - and use the new knowledge to create new things. Things!

10 - What would most assist you to create more works? Is there an ultimate goal for your creations?

More time and resources for sure. but most important to me is the feeling that my loved ones are safe. When I have to worry about their future because the system is going the way it is, it feels like a pile of stones in my head.

The creative / social goal of my art is relatively simple and based on my own experience. Art has helped me tremendously when I felt lost - or when I was just "bored". Taking time to really listen to or look at something can be very liberating.

My short-term financial goal is to generate a more or less regular income through art. But since I never released anything commercially before 2016, this world is still new to me.

My dream goal is to hear my music in film and games and to generate an income that supports my family.

Nonetheless, I think goals are here to create an initial path, not necessarily motivation.

I do not know of a single soul who has not been lost. Some never find their way back. Some don’t need to find their way back, they are happier in the place they found.

11 - If you were to offer a creator any advice what would it be?

Based on my own experience in no particular order:

Stay curious and open minded for different viewpoints.

Tutorials can limit your creativity. Sure, learn the basics, but explore as much as you can on your own and never be afraid to fail. It's a process, not a game.

On projects that take longer than a day to complete, set yourself a deadline when you want to have it completed. Not important if it takes longer, but in general that helps to stay more focused.

Very few things are easy when you start.

Limitations are not necessarily bad.

Don't wait for motivation to create. It will kick in usually a few minutes after you've started. Therefore keep your tools ready and organized so you can start creating at any time.

You can always turn off the internet.

Be open for constructive criticism.

Especially for the digital crowd, backup your stuff!

(All images and works by SPARTALIEN)

#shikantaza #art #music #video #visual #creation #peace

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

timeless - prelude

PAIRING: medieval!james “bucky” barnes x reader

WARNINGS: sexual content (18+)

A/N: hello! sorry for my inactivity later with tags and fanfics, i recently moved out of my home into a new one and it took quite a while to set everything up but finally everything is a bit calmer. i hope you enjoy this new work, i’m extremely proud of it xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Time.

Time is an odd concept. The dictionary describes time as the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in an apparently irreversible succession from the past, through the present, into the future. Yet, would it be fair to describe time in such technical words when the movement itself is so ... controversial. For some, time runs fast, like a drop falling from a leaf onto the river, its consequences reverberating in several rings. For others, the ticking of the clock seems like a painful reminder that every single second lasts forever. However, for some, time is just paused almost as if they’re living in their own life repetition and therefore time has lost all meaning and no definition would apply to it. Time after all is of the earth, it’s not a human concept, it’s not something humanity discovered and coined as their own as they would wish. It is merely a thing of innocence of the Earth seen in the blooming flowers and the falling leaves, the growing of flora and the birthing of fauna. Yet, for some time is seen on their faces, the wrinkles and lines that accentuate their skins, scars that never faded, ages rising and the loss of opportunities. For those, if it were possible to freeze time, to reverse it or extend it, they would do it in a blink of an eye and so is the pure innocence of longing defiled.

Lady Y/N of Arendelle had no particular affinity towards time. In all honesty, she barely thought about it yet for some reason the forces of nature had bestowed, unbeknownst to her, with the particular gift of giving people time. Why had it been given to her out of all people was a mystery. She was an ordinary girl born in the last second of the last day of the year when the snow covered the ground white, mostly surrounded in mystery. While her mother, Lady Catherine Bouvaire was one who made her way into the most prestigious circles of society in Arendelle from peasant to the Queen’s lady in waiting, Lady Y/N seemed to be locked away from society in their little cottage. “The outside world is cruel, too cruel for someone like you” is what she would constantly say to Y/N. However, no matter how harshly you try to grip onto time it eventually caught up to her. As the Queen’s eldest daughter caught the attention of the future King of Genoa, quickly enough was this locked environment broken. The Queen of Arendelle believed her daughter should take someone trustworthy, someone to remind her of home and no better person fitted that description than the naively protected daughter of her lady in waiting.

Catherine had protested, arguing that her daughter was much to innocent to join the court of such a prolific kingdom. However, she was merely a lady and what the Queen wants goes. Nevertheless, Catherine would not let her precious daughter go, no, she needed more time and if that meant moving with her to another kingdom, then she would gladly do so. And so, Y/N was thrown inside a carriage with princess Odette which took both women away from what they had known for ages.

They rode the road for a full month, enduring the harsh rains of mid September until, on a late afternoon, the carriage came to a halt in front of the place she would have to call home from now on. The castle grounds were protected by a great wall, tall enough you’d have to strain your eye muscles to find its end, tall enough to look like another prison to keep Y/N. Her mother, whose home arrangements were different to hers, had warned her to be careful with Genoa’s court, not to trust any of the men that paraded the parties. “They are never going to marry you, all they want is a break from their contracted marriages and would use her and leave” is what she said before being separated into a different carriage and Y/N believed her. She remembered the stories her mother had told her, women thrown into the street, into reckless lives and poverty. No, Y/N was there for Odette and no other motive. Yet, she couldn’t deny it was exciting to be somewhere else, to see other things and other people.

The castle itself was old and small dust seemed to be falling from the walls, exposing the building’s foundation that used to look like a second world wonder, she thought. The windows, however, were crystal clear and glistening in the dark cloudy afternoon which was already setting on the opposite side of the building, casting a great shadow.

Her shoes touched the perfectly cropped grass and she was ushered into the palace and straight into her living quarters. It was huge, bigger than her old home and while the outside of the palace looked rather somber, the inside was ostentatious, decorated in dark burgundies, whites and shades of gold enough to make anyone gasp at first sight. Y/N felt like she was dreaming wide awake as she explored every nook of her new bedroom, observing the art, the books and the instruments placed for her own enjoyment.

She couldn’t help but throw herself into the comfortable bed, a small child like giggle escaping her rose painted lips. Yet, she had little to no time to enjoy her new bedroom as the Queen and King of Genoa wanted to welcome the Princess of Arendelle and her entourage with a banquet and Y/N couldn’t be any more excited. With a white ivory dress loosely falling from her shoulders, she joined her princess who was looking at the wall as if it held away the biggest monsters ever created.

- You’ll be fine. - Y/N spoke out, placing a hand on top of her shoulder. - Prince William absolutely loves you, you have nothing to worry about.

- It’s not Prince William, it’s his parents.

- I’ve heard they’re fair rulers.

- Yes but we come from a small kingdom what if they decide it’s an alliance they don’t want? - Y/N merely gave her a soft smile, almost like a promise that she would be fine. The big white and gold engraved doors were opened to a crowd of a thousand faces all in awe of the beautiful foreign princess. Y/N, on the other hand, was in awe of the sheer beauty and light of the room. It was so much different from the walls of the little cottage her mother kept her in, it was light, breezy, bashed in oranges and yellows coming from the flickering flames of various white candles held by the chandeliers and walls. It was almost like a scene straight out a painting and suddenly the crowd of a thousand faces seemed to melt as she was on cloud 9. The scents were of wild fruits and sweetness which possibly came from the beautifully decorated decadent desserts standing on the long table.

She was much too distracted with the sheer delicateness of the world outside her cottage walls to even notice she had been sat quite far from the only person she knew. Instead, she was sat by some of the other court ladies, her dress majorly overshadowed by the precious stones sewn onto the silks and velvet of the Queen’s ladies. Nevertheless, she found something else to be fascinated by, that being the golden cutlery meticulously placed by the sides of the porcelain engraved plates. In that moment, despite her mind telling her it would be bad to be glad about it, she felt like being away from her mother was a blessing.

This dazed dream was broken as she felt a gaze burn on her figure, almost as if she was being watched. Gently and slowly, she raised her eyes from the plate, the atmosphere of the dinner being of joy and hope for the new soon to be rulers too lost for someone to notice her, at least she thought so but was wrong as standing a bit left from her front was a very well dressed man, in shades of burgundy and black with a gold heavy medal weighting from his breast pocket looking at her. He looked almost curious, lines creasing on his forehead as his ocean eyes were glued that left her feeling almost naked to his sight.

- Are you alright? - one of the ladies sat next to her, the one in a ruffled lavender dress asked, noticing how quickly Y/N had resorted to looking back to her food, barely touched.

- Who’s that man? - she slightly moved her head in his direction.

- That’s Grand Duke Barnes of Addia. He’s one of the King’s advisors, people say he killed his wife.

- Not too loud, Eliza. - another lady dressed in baby pink scolded.

- That’s surely just gossip. - Y/N commented.

- Gossip or not, everyone in Addia could hear screaming during the Great Fire. Yet again, royals can get away with anything and everything.

Y/N nodded, looking back to her plate but not before looking up to the grand Duke one last time. It wasn’t exactly shocking news to her what men of court could do. Her mother had told her they were either adulterers, power hungry or untrustworthy men, however, she thought there would be some sort of justice. The dinner continued to go smoothly with Odette spending more and more time sharing romantic looks with her husband to be. Soon enough, she was on the dance floor with him, laughing and telling each other sweet nothings that made anyone and everyone watching smile.

Y/N wasn’t immune to that smile either, standing a bit further removed from the dance floor with her hands on top of her dress fabric. The sweet lullabies played by the orchestra had her head moving slowly from side to side until an overflow of the scent of freshly picked roses made itself quite pronounceable. She looked around looking from here the scent could be coming from as all the flowers scattered around the room were that of Genoa’s flag, lilies. No roses.

- How come you’re not dancing, milady?

- Oh, I’m not one for dan ... - she stopped mid sentence as she rustled through the fabric of her dress to notice who was speaking to her. There he was again, making her take a step back out of fright of what she had heard from Eliza at the dinning table.

He looked somewhat surrounded in an air of mysteriousness costumed by the formal clothing such as his perfectly tailored burgundy jacket whose colour matching the ribbon keeping his long hair away from his face in a low ponytail. There was no denying he was a handsome man but Y/N couldn’t help but keep her guard up. There was always some underlying truth to rumours.

- I’m afraid I’ve never learned how to dance, Grand Duke.

- Please do join me in the floors, milady.

- No, my lord you really don’t understand, I can’t dance ... at all. I would embarrass my princess.

- I’m a good lead. - he extended his gloved hand towards her. She guessed he couldn’t harm her while surrounded by several people including guards. - Please, milady, do me the honour of accompanying me.

She looked at his black matte glove covered his hand which was extended towards her chest and then back to his face and the guards stood in front of every single exit. “You’ll be fine” a voice said inside of her and shakingly she placed her delicate and polished hand on top of the leather, shivering once she felt its texture. Before Y/N could change her mind, he had already led her slightly off centre in the dance grounds, a free hand gently setting itself on her waist.

The young girl could feel her heart beat against her thoracic cage as the violins and flutes led the dance along with him. It was an odd feeling, it felt peaceful and yet she was rather scared to dance with the man rumoured to have murdered his wife. The Grand Duke seemed to notice her unwillingness as the lines of his forehead and eyes creased even more and his grip on her softened.

- You shouldn’t believe in everything you hear. - he whispered against her ear, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. Her eyes gazed his, lips slightly parted as she wondered if he had heard Eliza back at the dinner table, something she would’ve questioned him about had it not been for the ceasing music. As the music came to an end, he took a step back, bowing to her before disappearing between the crowds leaving her in the middle of the dance floor as another song begun.

- There you are. - a familiar voice broke through her haze of confusion. - I think we should retire for tonight. What do you think?

- I think it’s a great idea.

In all honesty, Y/N was glad Odette wanted to retire from the ball and return to her chambers but it wasn’t without peaking curiosity that she left the room, eyes lingering on the crowds looking yet failing to find the Grand Duke. The orange and yellow lights dimmed as the doors were closed behind the two women and with a sigh, she followed Odette to her chambers, starting the routine taught to her back in Arendelle to get the princess ready for bed. Once she was settled in her silk bedding, Y/N left the room to reach hers, a small golden candelabra held by her hands as she made her way through the halls.

The walls are hollow inside and it is as if they are whispering at her when the wind howls inside them and the rain hits the foot long glass windows, the image strengthened by the portraits of the several monarchs of Genoa. She climbed the staircase slowly, each step creaking at the slighest weight her feet put on the old wood and then creaking some more when the weight on it is loosened and disappear. Slowly but surely, with her heart beating like a drum, the lady in waiting reached the top of the stairs. Suddenly, her heart beat seemed to intensify its beating in her ears for no reason and, once she held her dainty fingers against them, they are hot to the touch and the saying of the Arendelle people echoed like a curse in her brain: “If your ears are red and warm, it means someone must be talking about you”. She shuddered at the thought, specially considering she stood alone atop the stairs.

Once she was back inside the safety of her chambers, she closed the door behind her and enter the soft cold and unknown bed quickly, throwing her clothes to the side, stretching her legs under the covers and pulling the white sheets up to her chest. Her eyes flutter slowly, staring up at the ceiling and the small chandelier hanging from it and, suddenly, she drifts off to sleep lulled by the falling rain: she felt airy, as if her limbs are being held up in the air and she fluttered her eyes open to the dream land that awaited her.

And at the end of the bed is the Grand Duke. He is naked and he crawls to the bed, hands slowly sliding down her sides as he towers over her and, she too, is naked. She sweated and stared at the man’s face and at the medallion hanging from his neck that rocks back and forth as he moves closer and pulls her knees up and apart.

He’s hard and slick with cum already and she’s not entirely not sure what took over her good morality, but she pulled her legs apart willingly and let him move closer and closer to her and her aching heat.

tag list: @lookiamtrying @kmuir1 @anxiousdreamersworld @tinymalscoffee

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withteeths · 3 years

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Maybe Steamrolling Games is Bad Actually

Videogames are unique in that they are inextricably tied to corporatism and have been since birth (this is an oversimplification but roll with it). This means that to an extent most companies even since the ’80s have never really cared about proper preservation or easy access to their titles. Nintendo carts were originally manufactured to have their battery die in 3 years so you would have to buy a new one (this failed, but it’s why you still see a lot of dead carts floating around). I think there's a nostalgia issue within the gaming fandom regarding "oh x was great back then" but a lot of the time, games manufacturers have been historically shitty and anti-consumer and it’s just that they now have the tools to execute it much more effectively. Regarding obtrusive DRM, that’s an issue PC games have had since their zenith, where if you lost your original copy of a manual or a small plastic key you could never play a game again because the codes were individualized for each copy and support would refuse to give you a new one. Even back in the arcades, there were particularly batshit examples like the CPS board, which I shit you not was built to explode a battery pack filled with corrosive acid if it detected you were attempting to repair or modify it. There’s a lot to say about the current state of games but what I would likely illustrate is that 2/3 major consoles are racing to decide who will be obsolete first. Games consoles are reaching a point where they are trying to emulate PCs with more restrictions and DRM. We're already seeing interest in steam spike again and it’s likely that eventually, we will see almost a crash for consoles where no one can justify the price for games they can play on a PC rig. The only solution I see there would be a merger between the two consoles which feels inevitable.

That being said as interest in the PC space increases again so does attempts at entering the bubble. We have Epic, Origin, Microsoft, Indiegala, Itchio, and Steam all vying for attention, requiring accounts, and offering exclusives to justify the use of their storefront over others. Some people think this is a good thing because it's breaking up Steam's monopoly but it literally is not, if you ever really wanna hear me rant ask me about Leftist obsession with itch being some sort of ethical steam, which it is provably not. In the end, the real sort of saviour figures that work to preserve games are random ass people on the internet. I know people who automatically assume that at the end of the day, companies care about games preservation too, and they usually have a three-pronged argument that cites a) Steam’s ability to allow the redownloading of delisted games, b) retro companies periodically rereleasing titles for modern consoles in compilations, and c) companies doing limited reruns of a game that fans request. All three of these examples are basically an incredibly effective use of diversionary tactics, but most of the time when someone cites these I just assume it’s a misunderstanding and not outright malicious intent because a lot of the time companies will attempt to actively implant these ideas to build brand loyalty.

My main dissertation is usually that Steam is incredibly selective with what titles you can redownload, and most importantly, corporate benevolence is more-so a band-aid on a gaping wound! There’s no contingency for when Steam might migrate to a new service, go belly up, or become obsolete when a new OS is created. That means thousands, tens of thousands of dollars worth of games are just gone, permanently, along with fan mods, DLC, and content. It’s a terrifying thought that not many people bring up when discussing the problems with game storefronts that focus so much on providing a cloud and have DRM attached to every purchase. In a way, Steam preceded the trend of not allowing consumers to actually own the things they purchased, and they’ve avoided criticism by strategic use of silence and creating the illusion of a company being made by the consumers they’re attempting to serve. At the end of the day, Steam is a business, and if you ever lose access to your Steam account, or they decide to up and leave one day, you will not be able to play almost all of those games, even if you have them installed on a hard drive, because if you’re online, they connect with a server to ensure your steam account has the ability to play them. When it comes to other arguments like the limited rereleases or use of compilations to preserve arcade titles, I usually just beg people to look at community-driven options that have existed for years. The Scott Pilgrim game is a big source of contention, but I would point out that for years now, it was playable, for free, with all the DLC, on PCs. Preservationists didn’t wait for the gods of Universal and O’Malley to rerelease it for 30 bucks or save up to snatch the fucking ridiculous 200$ limited edition with shitty paper cut-outs, they straight up just did the work to make the game free and available. RCPS3 has (with a contemporary build) been able to run the game pretty flawlessly for years now, in fact, it was how I played through a majority of the game in high school on my shitty brick of a laptop. If you look further out than this one example then it gets even better, MAME and other emulation backends have been able to play obscure, unfinished, and homebrew titles with 100% accuracy, on almost any setup, for free, for decades! I found out about many of these options back in 2015 or so, certainly late to the curve, but I never really questioned as to why emulation, games preservation, and some key titles being available on PC remained some sort of arcane, unknown knowledge to most people interested in games. In the end, the answer was a highly effective propaganda campaign that combined with strategic use of DMCA takedowns has resulted in the concept of communal games-preservation and emulation becoming some sort of debate, where people will wholeheartedly side with corporations in some sort of quest for preserving things the “ethical and correct way,” which is code for preservation on the condition that it remains profitable for the IP owners.

I think the best way to illustrate this would be with the community built around the preservation of an infamous PS4 title, PT. The story of its inevitable delisting from the storefront and the messy breakup between Kojima and Konami is well known, so I won’t regurgitate it, look it up at your own leisure. What is significant here is corporate reactions to attempts at preserving the game, which can basically be boiled down to Konami acting with borderline rabid fervour to prevent redownload, redistribution, or recreation of a seven-year-old demo, released for free download. Mentions of solutions to redownload the game have been taken down, fan-made recreations for PC, and archival servers that store a copy of the game for future preservation or emulation. Usually when this is brought up a debate occurs citing that technically speaking, Konami has a right to do this whenever they want, for whatever piece of media they believe infringes on their copyright. On one hand, yes this argument is factually correct considering the current state of copyright and ownership of media, but on the other hand, what compels someone to step into the ring for a multi-million dollar company with the primary argument being “well actually, people SHOULDN’T be able to play this specific video game until it benefits the shareholders”? In my opinion, it’s some sort of corporatized symbiosis where players believe that, if you cull the bad actors and play by the rules of the company, you may be able to eventually play the game a couple of years down the line. Sure, this has happened in the past with a few isolated cases, but it can’t be stressed enough that this is a genuinely dangerous and reductive position for people to take regarding games preservation.

I have two colleagues, Mariken and Fotocopiadora, who released a short interactive title called Videopulp (playable here: https://fotocopiadora.itch.io/videopulp). It’s a dramatic reimagining of a real historical event, wherein a promotional event was held in 1994 at Lelystad to destroy bootleg carts by a figure in a Mario costume. This perhaps best encapsulates something I am pleading with younger generations to understand, as an archivist, art historian, and creator: corporations are not your friends, and they never will be. With the rise of online circles of leftism, this concept is starting to gain traction but is starting to be polluted with concepts of fandom and tribalism. This has lead to arguments that while *most* corporations are bad how could you say that about Nintendo? Or Valve? Mario is so innocent and characters like Wheatley are beloved by all! I feel some people don’t realize that they can enjoy a select title or character without enlisting in a corporate faction in the battle for “best company” or “best videogame”. It leads to a parasocial kinship with a nonexistent figure that was hand-crafted to ensure consumer loyalty to a certain brand. It’s depressing, terrifying, and should stand as a disquieting example of how the grip of capitalism on works of art has permanently distorted how we think and engage with media today. So, what’s the solution? As always I can never really provide something concrete that’ll act as a cure-all, only things that people in games need to work towards. Bring up conversations about games preservation, create archives for your own work, support archivists and boost their work whenever a new discovery is created, and try to promote optimism and solidarity in your hobbyist communities. I’ve noticed a lot of futility being intertwined with the future of AAA gaming, use of online storefronts, and the inability to own pieces of media anymore, and I feel this should be pushed back against, even in a minute way. Open-source programmes still exist that allow you to hold on to what you have purchased, offline and ad-free options exist for games launchers, e-readers, and media players. The future isn’t bright, but it is not a place without hope, and as long as people continue to enter communities with passion and ingenuity, I think we have a chance at stopping the events at Lelystad, 1994 from happening again.

#videogames #games preservation #scott pilgrim #rambling #post

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alcalavicci · 3 years

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So there’s a really interesting interview with Deborah Pratt here. If you don’t want to pay for it, I’ll paste what I can below, but a few points first.

Deborah says she doesn’t know where Dean is, and says she misses him. I guess she hasn’t had contact with him since he left for NZ? And with Russ Tamblyn saying Dean’s hanging in there in answer to a recent Twitter question, that brings up more questions about his condition.

Deborah claims she came up with the idea of Quantum Leap, which I’ve never seen come up before. Also Don wanted to send Sam home?? I feel like she’s misremembering a lot of details/making herself seem better than she is.

“Theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator and vanished… He woke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time tht his next leap will be the leap home…”

The premise of Quantum Leap succinctly and empathetically explained by a voice that spoke to viewers week to week, setting the scene at the opening of the episode. It is a voice that left an indelible print on the show, from its inception to its finale. This is the voice of its Head Writer. No, not Donald P. Bellisario, but a woman of color who was leaps ahead of her time – co-executive producer and uncredited co-creator, Deborah M. Pratt.

Deborah wrote or co-wrote 40 episodes of this sci-fi gem and her authorship of the show runs deep through its five seasons. Aside from the opening narration, Deborah is audible as the voice of Admiral Al Calavicci’s pocket computer, Ziggy. She also guest stars in the episode ‘A Portrait for Troian’ (S2, Ep11) as a grieving widow who hears the voice of her husband calling her.

Deeper still, Quantum Leap was a family affair. It was co-created with her husband at the time, Bellisario, and their daughter, also named Troian, appears as a little girl in ‘Another Mother’ (S2, Ep13, who can not only see Al, but also sees Sam as he really is, rather than as her recently divorced mom.

Prior to helming Quantum Leap, Deborah rose through the ranks as an actress, racing the screen in Happy Days, CHiPS, The Dean Martin Show and many more, and was also a writer on shows such as Airwolf and Magnum P.I. She is a five-time Emmy nominee, Golden Globe nominee and winner of countless other awards. She went on to produce CBS comedy cop show, Tequila and Bonetti, and then to co-create and produce the TV series adaptation of Sandra Bullock tech thriller, The Net. But Quantum Leap was Deborah’s brainchild – one which is emblazoned on the hearts of its faithful fans.

Deborah has since moved into directing, including on hit show Grey’s Anatomy (2020), but was generous with her time when spoke in late 2020 to leap back into the past.

It does seem that you were really ahead of your time as a female head writer and a showrunner in the ’90s, especially in science fiction TV. Was it hard for you to progress and to get Quantum Leap made?

“Usually women were relegated to comedy, very rarely was it drama or heavy drama. It’s changed, finally, with people like Shonda Rhimes (Grey’s Anatomy, Bridgerton, Scandal). But yes, I was a true pioneer, even though I don’t have a ‘created by’ credit, it was a ‘co-created by’ show – with Don. I brought him the original concept, and we were married, and he said ‘Let me just run with this. I can get it made.’ And to his credit, he understands how to tell a story to the audience. He simplified it in a way that you could welcome Quantum Leap into the world. But it was still a tough show to sell.

“I think we went back three times to pitch it to the network. It was complicated to explain. Brandon Tartikoff [the executive] said ‘It’s a great idea – It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen on TV. Let me think about it.’ Then he asked us to come back, ‘I want you to pitch it to me like I’m six years old, then pitch it to me like I’m 80 years old’ and finally he took it. Then even after the show first aired, they decided to introduce that opening where I tell the story. That was created to explain every week to a new viewer what was going on and it worked really well.”

On rewatch now, the best part of three decades later, the show feels groundbreaking in terms of the subjects you cover. Did you feel like you were pushing the envelope?

“I feel we got to do so much on that show. I remember when I did ‘Black on White on Fire’ [S3, Ep7], the networks in the South in the United States wouldn’t air it because it was a black/white relationship. Even though there is no scene where you see a black person and a white person being intimate.

You saw Sam, who was white, and the girl who was white, but because he was playing someone who was black, it was an issue. They wouldn’t air the show in the South. This was around 1992.

“It was challenging for sure. I think we pushed the limits.

“The beauty of the show too, was that it was about hope, which I see so little of on television today. Everything’s so dark, so mean, so vicious, bloody – how many people can you kill? How mean can you make your lead characters and antiheroes. I think it’s why I didn’t work as much afterwards. A) I was a woman, and B) a black woman. There weren’t any black female executive producers that I knew of in drama. I got to do The Net because it had a female lead, but that was almost ten years after Quantum Leap was created. Any show I brought in that had a black lead was never bought, or a female lead, was never bought.

“I remember I wrote a big action piece – like an Indiana Jones, but female-driven, feature film – and pitched it and the studio executive said, ‘Yeah, yeah, but when did the guy come and rescue her?’ And I said, ‘She doesn’t – she rescues him.’ The look on his face. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

The show darted around TV schedules, but the fans remained with it, and still to this day hold it dear to their hearts. Was that palpable at the time, or has that grown since?

“I think near the end of the first season, Harriet Margulies [Production Assistant on the show] found a chat room after an episode where people from across the country talked about it and it became the ‘watercooler.’ We were the first television show that had a chat room as a watercooler. Before that, it was literally you going into your office and standing around the watercooler and talking about movies or TV shows you were watching. Suddenly, it was online. So we started to go into the chat room and talk to people about what they liked and what they didn’t. Not necessarily telling them who we were, but that fan base is what kept us on the air because the network didn’t know what to do with us. There was no show like it, so they couldn’t like pair us with anybody.

“In the five years we were on, I think they moved the show six times and the fans still found it, they followed it, they watched it. That’s how we knew we had something unique and special. To this day, I’ll go into a meeting with a young executive who’ll go, ‘I have to tell you, I loved Quantum Leap. I used to watch it with my mom and dad’.”

Scott Bakula was such a great hero and heartthrob as Dr. Sam. What was he like to work with?

“He was so approachable, you know, in the sense that he had this great, easy acting style. He took chances and he was likeable – in a way that he could be a man’s man and a woman’s man at the same time. He’s really a brilliant actor. I am saddened by the fact that he has not had the opportunity to do movies in the way that could really have lifted his career. He’s had an incredibly successful television career. He’s a good actor. He’s a kind man. I’ve always admired him and felt like when we were working together, I had a friend that I loved to write for because he was always so giving and willing and wanting to take chances as an actor. So it was fun to go down to the trailer and say, ‘Guess what? You’re going to be pregnant this week’.

He does everything in the show from sing and dance to baseball, football, hopping over car bonnets to fights and martial arts. Did you know he had such a wide skill set from the outset, or did you write the challenges for him to rise to?

“I think we had conversations with him about that. I also knew that he had been on Broadway doing musicals. I knew he could sing and dance. When I wrote ‘Sea Bride’ [S2, Ep20], I wrote a tango number – that was unique for him. When Don knew that he could play the guitar… We asked Scott, ‘What do you want to do?’ And he said he wanted to do a musical and I think that’s how the ‘Catch a Falling Star’ episode [S2, Ep10] came about, which involves a performance of ‘Man of LaMancha’.”

Admiral Al Calavicci – he’s so much more than wisecracking and surface jokes or flirtation. There’s so much depth to his character. Was that fleshed out early on with an end to end journey for him in mind, or did his character evolve through the seasons?

“It was a little bit of both. Dean Stockwell had been on Broadway at five-years-old and had been a major child movie star. I remember when we wrote the show where Sam had the chance to save Al – ‘The Leap B4, Ep1] – he was so good in that. I’ll never forget how beautiful that was. And then in the very, very end, I love the fact that Sam did change history and Al ended up wih his beautiful wife with five kids.

“I remember once asking Dean, ‘Do you want us to write more drama for you? Big dramatic moments?’ And he said, ‘I want you to look at me right now. I want you to tell me what you see.’ And I said, ‘Well, your performance, the pain, fear and loss and all that, because you’re such an incredible actor.’ And he said ‘For me to perform that, I have to be it and live it. So don’t do too many.’

“He had that depth of acting talent. He is so good – Dean, wherever you are, I love you. I miss you.”

The episodes that follow later in the seasons involving celebrities – Sam as Elvis, Dr. Ruth, or Lee Harvey Oswald, was that kind of a direction that you always foresaw? It feels like a sea change as the show progressed.

“The stories were designed, for the most part, to be so, so simple in that they were everyday stories. They weren’t change-the-world stories. I think the biggest one was Lee Harvey Oswald, and maybe the one involving Marilyn Monroe – those were with people that could have had a ripple effect.

“But there were other little kisses with history in the show, but they were very hard to do. They ran into a child version of Donald Trump in a taxi cab, [‘It’s A Wonderful Leap’ – S4, Ep18], then they ran into a little boy who is supposed to be Michael Jackson – Sam teaches him to moonwalk [‘Camikazi Kid’ – S1, Ep8]. The first time I did a kiss with history was ‘Star-Crossed’ [S1, Ep3] – Sam meets up with the woman that left him at the altar and they’re at the Watergate Hotel. That was fun stuff.”

Sam managed to awkwardly kiss lots of ladies in that sense of ‘Oh God, they’re going to kiss me and I’ve got to be this person, what am I supposed to do.’

“We never, ever really discussed what happened to Sam. We didn’t want him to be encumbered by a relationship. But I didn’t get to kiss him. My husband wouldn’t leave the set on the episode I was in!”

Your move into directing – from your TV drama Cora Unashamed back in 2000, to Grey’s Anatomy just last year. Is that something you wanted to do sooner? Were there barriers prohibiting you?

“I was supposed to direct on Quantum Leap four times. Every time it was coming up, something would happen. The only women who directed on the show were two black women – Debi Allen [Fame, Everybody Hate Chris, Jane the Virgin] and the other was a woman named Anita Addison. They each did two shows.

I said, ‘If I’m not doing this, I want black women.’ There were no other black women. And it was a fight. I tried to get black women directors on the show, but I could never get them past.

Then when I went to do The Net, the studio blocked it. I give huge amounts of credit for executive producing to Shonda Rhimes and what she has been able to do. She did what I thought I was going to be able to do. She’s so talented and I’m such a fan of her and her shows. I’m looking forward to what she’s going to do on Netflix. And it was an honour to do Grey’s Anatomy because I’m a fan of the show and I’m really grateful to have that opportunity.”

Has there been progress in terms of female directors and filmmakers being given opportunities?

“It’s very hard for women because there aren’t a lot of women executives at the studios. There are more now. And so there is an evolution that’s happening, but it still feels slow. There were shows run by people I gave opportunities to back in the day, but when I said, “hey, I want to direct on your show,” the response was, “oh, there’s too much machismo. There’s too many male hormones around here. They’ll eat you alive.” And I went, “no, they won’t, you’ll protect me. How about if I do my job?” And that was only last year. But there are more opportunities. There are more women making decisions, but we have to do more because women’s stories and women’s voices are more than half the population – we need to hear those stories. The historic ones as well as the contemporary ones.”

Is there a leap that was your favourite overall? That you feel made you made your mark with?

“’The Color of Truth’ [S1, Ep7] touched so many people and it opened a dialogue. I remember we got a letter from a teacher who said she brought the VHS in and she played it to her class, up until Jesse [Sam as an ageing black chauffeur in ’50s Deep South] goes and sits down at the counter in the restaurant. Then she stopped it and asked the students what they thought happened next. They thought that he just ordered lunch. And then she played the rest and that hostility and the animosity he endures and the fact that he had to get up and leave really incensed these children. They had never heard of or experienced racism. They didn’t want to believe that it really happened. This is how history gets buried and why television is so powerful and important. It opened a conversation that she could not have necessarily had in her classroom, according to her, had she not brought that show in to share with her students.

“We had another letter that was very moving, and I want to say it might’ve been ‘The Leap Home’ [S2, Ep1-2]. There was a couple who wrote and said they had a child that was on a cancer ward and every Thursday the whole ward would watch Quantum Leap. Their child was dying and they had kind of given up and it was just time to help that child transition out of this world. They watched the show and she said, ‘We realized we gave up hope. When we watched the show, we realized we didn’t have to give up hope and we wanted to write to you. It’s now six months later and the crisis has passed. The cancer is in remission. Our child is up and going back to school. And we just want to thank you for reminding us that hope has its own power’.”

Its power and poignancy has never diminished. Though the final episode, ‘Mirror Image’ (S5, Ep22), with the caption saying Sam doesn’t get to go home, does leave a sucker punch.

“That was our last fight. Don was going to send him home. And I said, ‘You can’t, you can’t send him home. If you ever, ever, which we’ve not ever been able to get Universal to let us do it, want to do a movie… If you want to keep the story going, you have to leave Sam out there in the hearts of people, leaving people thinking he could leap into their lives’. And at first Don said, ‘No, no, we need to bring him home’. And I said, ‘Do not bring him home. Or you will end the show. If you leave the hope out there, that Sam is out there and he could leap into your life and make a difference’. You keep the show alive in the hearts and the minds of the fans. And I think I was right.”

The ending was poetic for me as a viewer, but your point about Sam still being out there – Is there a leap back to the future for Quantum Leap?

“I started writing a project called Time Child about Sammy Jo Fuller. I actually wrote a trilogy in Season 5 where Sam leapt back three times into the same family and the second time he leapt he ended up in bed with this character and conceived a child. Then the third time he leapt in, he met her at 10 years old – a girl named Sammy Jo Fuller. So in my vision, Sammy Jo Fuller grows up. I actually have Al say, ‘Sammy is in the future with me. We’re trying to bring you home.’ That was my set-up way back in 1993, in Season 5, to say someday, Sammy Jo being his daughter might take over….

“This was the ’90s. Women heroes didn’t exist really �� other than comic books – Wonder Woman was there, Super Girl was there. But I set it up in the show that Sammy Jo was going to bring him home. Sadly, I have not been able to get Don and the studio to give me the green light for Time Child. It might happen someday.”

Right now, it feels like we need more shows that offer hope. Is there a place for a reboot on streaming platforms?

“Universal keep saying they want to bring it back. They’re not going to give it up to Netflix because they have [US streaming service] Peacock now and still have NBC. I personally think it should be on a full blown network. The hard part would be that it would have to be recast if there was a female version using my character Sammy Jo Fuller. Or if they just redid the show, it would be interesting in the sense that there was such an innocence about the show. I still believe that there is an audience out there that wants it, that longs for looking at the past through the eyes of somebody in the present. But who would that person be if you did the show now, what are those eyes like?

“We’re living in the time of COVID and suddenly you go back in time. How do you warn people that this is going to happen? How do you warn people about 9/11? How do you warn people about things in the future?

“I mean, one of the beauties of that innocence too, and I thought that was a great gift from Don to the concept, was that Sam’s memory as Swiss cheese – he didn’t remember things and that made it a lot easier, and Al was not allowed to tell him what was happening in the present. There’s a lot of detail woven into the mythology that allowed it to be innocent and in the moment of time travel. You didn’t have to drag the future back with you.”

Do you have an actress in mind to play Sammy Jo in a reboot?

“Oh my gosh, Jennifer Garner. I always felt she would be a great female Sam. She’s an ‘every woman.’ She’s funny. She does great drama. When I think of a female Sam or even Sammy Jo, I think Jennifer – in a heartbeat. She’s so great in Alias. That show just never stopped. You couldn’t take a breath. If I had to go younger, somebody that would have that kind of believable humour that you think could actually rescue you – maybe Jennifer Lawrence. She’s pretty formidable in that sense.”

“To bring Quantum Leap back. If they’re thinking about it, now’s the time to happen. Tell people to write to Universal! Write for the attention of Pearlena Igbokwe – if anyone can bring it back, she can do it. Write! Write to Pearlena – she’s the one that’ll make it happen. That’s how we stayed on the air for five and a half years. Fans unite and write!”

#quantum leap #article

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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Yugioh Ep 34 S4: The Boys (and Mai) are Back in Town

OK, back to the writing table! It’s been a while! So I made the mistake of like...scrolling down on the playlist when I realized...

This duel is like 6 episodes long (7 even? It’s a lot) and like...yo I have no idea if we’ll finish this season in 2020! Damn you 2020. Damn you.

But wtv, what I like about this side project of mine is that I don’t have to rush things, and I can really spend the time with each episode and just...enjoy the moment. So often I watch a whole series in like half a week and then it’s like...I don’t get to enjoy it. This series I’ve enjoyed for years now. That’s kinda neat. So...we’re gonna be slow...but lets just enjoy this weird ass anime moment together. 2020 deadlines are all fake anyway. I’m not even sure if 2020 was a real thing that happened or like...an alternate universe opening a door and letting through just so many terrible ghosts. We might never know.

Last we left off, everyone has decided to hallucinate Dartz’ terrible backstory.

Unfortunately we have NO darts in the past. Was really hoping to see at least one darts reference in this entire season, just one darts board on his wall. But alas, we will not have a Season Zero death darts match with Dartz. (Man I need to get back to Season Zero. And FMA. And a lot of things)

I feel like if I watched the original version there would have been some things different. First off...what ocean? Second off...well, we’ll get to that. There’s some things I think were changed for English TV.

Including censoring the nude people like it’s James Cameron’s Avatar.

Fun fact did you know that James Cameron’s Avatar was supposed to be ass naked and that they were supposed to have like 8 cat nipples? Yeah.

Man, that movie was a mistake. I’m so glad we all decided to collectively forget James Cameron’s Avatar.

(read more under the cut)

The actual locations of anything in Atlantis does not match up with it when it’s zoomed out. We have giant cities, we have sprawling wheat fields, and we have...THIS situation. This active volcano next to...pine trees?

I feel like they wanted it to feel vaguely Pompeii, since I know people like to put Atlantis in the Mediterranean. Maybe? Maybe that’s what they were going for here?

One of my top ten favorite Yugioh plot twists ever was finding out this episode that this snake who has no limbs somehow created these...rocks...that all of our main characters have been wearing and obsessing over this entire time.

And so this is my theory, this is the thesis of my Yugioh college paper. These rocks are turds. There’s no way these rocks aren’t turds. There’s no way this snake didn’t poop out a bunch of glowy magic stones and then stuff them into a volcano.

THE ROCKS WERE TURDS THE WHOLE TIME.

God bless, Yugioh.

Seto spends this entire episode groveling that he isn’t playing cards that will absolutely kill him. Like Mokuba, Seto isn’t happy until he’s cheating death.

(I really wish we got more super past future tech. I love that type of concept art. Instead, we just got a lot of flying boats--the same boat that I think the team flew on in S1 when they went to Seto’s video game universe.

So those boats are 10,000 years old? They existed in the 10,000 year old Pangea, huh?

Neat.)

Anyway, lets take a gander at Princess Zelda circa Ocarina of Time.

SUPER princess Zelda, and I know it’s not 1:1 but damn it feels so much like a late 90′s Princess Zelda outfit to me. Check out that PURPLE. That low poly circlet. The random ass sword. The thick ass belt.

Also check out this super dead family.

Yo so this is a 00′s thing, a period of time where we liked to tell stories like LOST, with just a bunch of random ass plot twists in flashbacks instead of just...telling a story from start to finish. And can be a great and fun way to do it--but at the sacrifice of actually making me care about these characters while they were still alive.

Like I would have maybe cared about Chris and Ironheart dying if I had known that Dartz was killing his whole family? With...lightning strikes? But alas, these dumbasses decided NOT to tell us they were royal. It’s so strange both from a logical perspective and a storytelling perspective.

Man...missed opportunity, IMO, but I can see why they did it. The wanted the ‘Gotcha!’ I feel ambivalent about it, honestly.

And who am I kidding, people are still doing unpredictable plot twists this. It’s a way to tell a story. Is it the most impactful way? No. It’s...it’s a gotcha!

It’s at this point in the story that things start ramping up, but it’s not clear if it takes place over years or just a couple hours. People just start going a little cray and turning into Monsters.

Straight up, though--did they turn into monsters that already existed and are modern Duel Monster cards, or are the monsters from modern Duel Monsters cards actually descendants of Atlantis who were once human?

They don’t say, actually. Maybe...maybe every card was a human once. That would be a freakin weird Yugioh twist if Kuriboh was like a 45 year old dude.

PS Dartz was married...soak that in.

ROMANCE ON YUGIOH ALERT.

Love it every time. She was there for like...half a second, and Dartz was like throwing so much shade about how “only the people with evil in their hearts were turned” and it’s like...

...dude that’s your wife? OK then. I can see you guys got along real well.

Anyway, so long to the ship of IonaxDartz, you were here for even less than the amount of time that Seto dated Blue Eyes White Dragon in a hallucination, which kind of sets a new record for us.

This might be the shortest-lived ship in all of Yugioh and they have a 12 year old daughter and what I assume was a 12 year marriage for that entire time.

that is if they...HAD the concept of marriage 10,000 years ago on Atlantis Pangea island. Maybe?

I mean they might have not had the concept of dating and marriage yet because he gets over this like immediately. The show will never hover back to that time Dartz watched his own wife turn into a creature. We have no idea if he was like “OK honey lets uh...let just get you a haircut and maybe no one will notice?” We have no idea how long he was desperately trying to remain married to the beast that was no longer human and was also trying to eat everyone else in his court. We just don’t know.

Dartz just had a lot of other things to think about. He’s been King for like...a year...he’s only 21...he’s just doing a bad job at everything.

(Biden opens Pres Trumps bedroom in the White House come January and it’s juts full of glowing green evil golf balls) (OK that was my last 2020 joke I swear to you)

Anyway, Dad is here, but it’s a little too late to really do anything with the situation. Everyone is worshiping little snake turds. What can you really do about that?

One eye golden, the other eye, the color of a glistening Leviathan turd.

After the rest of the surviving royal family was chased out of the castle, Dartz decides to just wave his hands around a lot.

I’m not entirely sure what Kings do...never really had one...but I think they’re supposed to do more than wave their hands at a crowd like the Pope. Like...everyone’s dead right? Like everyone?

Who’s he talking to?

Meanwhile, Chris and Ironheart decide to revive some monster tablets to get some real actual duel monsters to do their bidding.

So apparently some monsters are in the tablets, and other’s have just always been here...and...

They didn’t know violence but they did have the cards?

There’s a lot of vague stuff they didn’t feel like ever writing, because it would have probably been boring to write about. I guess we’ll just let our imagination fill in the rest and ignore all the inconsistencies. It’s a kid’s anime. well........kind of a kid’s anime. A lot of people have died this episode and I don’t even know how to add it to the death count.

How many people live in Atlantis? I dunno.

Are the inhabitants of Atlantis even dead, or are they just turned into Monster cards? I dunno. Clearly the Great Leviathan wasn’t awoken this first battle so...did all those souls get returned? I dunno.

Either way I’m not gonna bother the death count about it because I just do not know if they died, and since it was neither an implied death or an on screen death...I dunno.

Just feels like a bit of a translation snafu--where maybe they couldn’t kill that many people on English TV, so they were like “AND IT’S A DRAW!” but also...it could be canon to both versions. The leviathan didn’t work the first time, maybe no one died? I dunno.

In this shot, PS, Raphael just gently backs up out of this flying plane, and it looked really funny to me. I probs won’t cap it because it’s split between two other cuts, but just...they just kind of moved that sprite to the right really slowly, no animation, it was great.

Dartz decides to end the backstory hallucination, and we get introduced to a new twist--a better twist than that last one, that’s right, all our boys are cards!

Including this asshole!

Been a while since our boys have been cards! Man, I miss Bakura!

Yes, I looked back to earlier episodes this season to see what was going on with Pegasus’ new look. I think what happened is that it’s always been this shade of gray purple--but when you put purple next to it’s opposing color (which is yellow colors) it looks even MORE purple. It’s just how color works. Love color theory. mm. Good stuff. Good purple hair.

I can’t wait until Yami kills Yugi for the 3rd time in one season.

Anyway, that’s all for now, and like always, here’s a link to read these in chrono order.

#ygo #yugioh #yu-gi-oh #recap #photo recap #episode recap #yami yugi #seto kaiba #Dartz #I don't know if he has a last name or if they were invented yet #Dartz' hot wife #Yugi muto #Joey Wheeler #Mai Valentine #maxamillion pegasus #Raphael #s4 #ep 34

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diosefm · 3 years

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THE OLD LION

when: very very late, right before the rebel announcement where: the gardens triggers: shitty dads mentions: minos valey, @virgobydcsign @pista-clearmark @deezeeashfrost

DIOSE

She might have completely ruined the only good thing going on with her life, but at least she's got Virgo again. And she feels things are different now. There is now a silent agreement between the two. They're trusting each other now, they're actually acting like siblings. It doesn't matter if their lives are in shambles, because now they know they can both rely on each other. The newly-found softness between has been translated into physical acts. Diose and her sibling sit in the garden, Virgo's head resting on her lap as they exchange whispers and secrets. They mention Blythe, Pista. Silly yet important things. Things they couldn't discuss before. After the chaos that happened inside the main hall, Diose is at peace now. Sort of. But that's quickly ruined as she hears the familiar sound of her father's boots approaching the pair. "Virgo, we have to go."

VIRGO

They didn’t expect this to be so easy. That after everything they could go running after Diose (literally) and things would be okay. That they’re comfortable here, the delicate scent of their sister’s perfume and the way they bind her secrets to their own. Their eyes drift closed as they listen. Tiny details. Sweet, lovely things they never should’ve missed in the first place. Diose’s shift into panic and their instant understanding.

“No.” Virgo stiffens, surprised by their own resolve. They don’t move, their head a solid weight in Diose’s lap. “I think we should stay.” They’re tired of being scared. Shadows cast across their face as Minos comes between them and the light trickling out from the party, almost tempting them to look. Almost. His silence betrays nothing.

DIOSE

Diose has never been scared of her father. When she was younger, the older Valey idolized him, relished on the attention he gave her. While the appearance of Virgo did cause a rift between the two of them, Diose remained his favorite his favorite due to her younger's sibling inability to honor the Valey name despite being the one with actual Valey blood in their veins. As glad as that made Diose at the time, she stopped seeing her father in the same way. And now? She is not scared for her, but for Virgo. So, it's surprising that their younger sibling chooses to not flee and face him instead. Diose knows she can stand her ground when it comes to their father, but has her doubts in regards to Virgo. Still, she is no one to contradict him, so she nods and waits.

Despite his age, Minos Valey stills stands tall and proud. His presence is imposing, able to instill fear in the most powerful of men. Because no one can beat him, they're all below him, he's made it clear. And when he speaks, it's even worse.

"You two ought to be happy now. You've been given everything, you were set up to triumph and you've thrown all of that away in favor of playing stupid, childish games. Was your pathetic display last year not enough for you, Virgo?"

VIRGO

They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t been expecting that. Minos did well to hold his tongue this far with regards to their tragic debut. Granted, he’d made a few comments here and there over dinner, but those events had always had company and their father was cautious. Virgo finds the truth now doesn’t hurt them half as much as it ought to. The thing which does creep under their skin, unsettling what calm they’ve found with Diose, is the expectation. So much pressure to hold up archaic ideals of perfection. Being pitted against each other and then against the world because one arrogant old man believes his legacy trumps all. They didn’t ask for this. Neither of them have ever been given much choice.

“We haven’t thrown anything away.” Virgo cracks an eye, squinting up at their sister. Even now they look to her for guidance. “Feels like half the guests tonight are dressed in Diose, that’s huge. She’s all the style recaps are going to be talking about for weeks.” Okay, that’s maybe not quite true considering the Games really are coming. But they know their point is solid. If they had the guts to, they’d add that Diose’s work is better for the change in her. They see what she’s done for Nelly.

Minos’ expression is unreadable. The art of intimidation is all in the subtleties, the way he angles his chin to look down on the both of them. “What good will that do? After the display you put on for all these esteemed guests?” A weighted pause. “You mean to make a mockery of all I’ve built for you.”

DIOSE

Diose wants to tell Virgo to shut up. They've been dealing with Minos's parenting for longer than they have. They've lived with him, had his eyes follow her everywhere until she decided it was time to flee the nest. She looks down at Virgo and can only shake her head. She's thankful, really. Virgo uses their turn to speak to compliment her, help her appear like she is still flawless and can do no wrong. Maybe Minos saw her that way once, but when Diose looks at him, sees the way her father clenches his fists, she knows how he truly feels.

"Wearing your sister's designs used to mean something. I could hardly hide my disgust when I saw the kind of individuals who dared to don your sister's designs. Rejects, vagrants. People who are not up to our standard, who do not deserve to break bread with us." A pause. "Let alone sit beside you two when the eyes of the Capitol are on you two"

His words sting. They hurt because she knows he is know speaking directly to her. It's a wonder how Diose is able to lift her gaze and look him right in the eye, hand buried in Virgo's hair. "I merely stood up for myself." She does not dare to mention Pista. She doesn't need her father to think of him, have him on his sights. It'll do no good. "Should I have allowed that man to humiliate me? He is nothing but a drunk. I don't understand why you must give him such importance." As much as she hates DeeZee, mentioning his name is not an option either. Pista cares about him, obviously. She'll protect him this one time. Not that his father can't figure out who is who. Diose just wants to direct his attention somewhere else.

"You're pathetic. Both of you are. Pathetic children tainting my hard work, embarrassing me in front of my colleagues. That is not the way we do things, Diose. Discretion is of utmost importance when dealing with vermin."

VIRGO

Virgo may have taken their father’s chastisement with relative ease (at least the won’t think too hard on it until later) but the way he speaks of Diose boils their blood. They think she’s done the right thing in extending her gift to the people they want to call friends. Nelly looks beautiful; Pista is worlds away from toiling over trains. Just because they aren’t Capitol penthouse elite doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get to share in their sister’s perfection. Diose is showing a side of herself they’ve admired for years now, the one she likes to pretend doesn’t exist: true kindness.

“It means more now,” they say, softly. Virgo wishes they’d been bold enough to swallow their anguish and ask Diose to dress them, too. The point doesn’t hit as hard when they’d deflected elsewhere. “Weddings are supposed to be about unity. That’s what Diose is showing, collaborating with the people who worked harder than all of us to be here. Not vermin, victors.”

Virgo wants to cringe at how pretentious, how idealistic, they sound. Words influenced by the low-budget dramas they love so much but can’t quite capture the heroism of. Speeches aren’t their strong suit. They reach up to squeeze Diose’s arm, gentle reassurance that they’re on her side. After all that she’s shared with them they need her to know they’re on her side. No matter what they say, they know neither would get through to Minos alone. Chances they’ll do it together aren’t great either.

”Save your excuses. You ought to know better than to stoop to their level. Don’t you realize the damage you’ve done? It’s clear all those years of education were put to waste if you can’t outsmart that halfwit.”

DIOSE

Diose's night has been absolutely terrible, but she finds solace in the fact that Virgo and her are closer than ever. Still, Diose wants nothing more than to put her hand over Virgo's mouth and keep them from talking. She appreciates their words, she really does, but the last thing both of they need is to provoke their father. Diose knows very well what he is capable of when he is upset and she doesn't want her father to target Pista or Nelly. "He provoked me, and I'm your daughter. Should you not be on my side?" But she knows better than that, knows her father is only on the side or those who are winning. With Diose being the laughingstock of the night, she knows the only support she has right now is Virgo's.

"Unity? The only people that you should be concerned about are your family. Your sister's designs are now almost as worthless as yours. Do you not care about my legacy, or your mother's? I knew she spoiled you too much. You're soft. It's sickening. I won't be on your side nor your sister's when you two are determined to spend your time surrounded by people below us. I've had my eyes on both of you all night. Have you forgotten whose blood runs through your veins? That woman you're with has done nothing but spit on your family's work for years."

She feels her father's insults will sting more now that they're getting personal. Diose is certain she can handle at least some of his poison with the help of her remaining grace and poise, but it's Virgo she is worried about. Father is right, they are softer than any other member of their family.

VIRGO

Their father’s words begin to fall on deaf ears. If they’re being honest, they don’t fully understand the concept of a legacy. They’ve heard the word thrown around so carelessly their entire lives that it’s begun to lose all meaning, absent the ambition they’re sure it’s supposed to ignite in them. With Diose, they can see how someone might pin their hopes on her to make them proud. They don’t give themselves the same credit—and for good reason. All the time and money in the world wasn’t enough for Ma to make them who she wanted them to be, a fact she’s begrudgingly accepted. Virgo isn’t surprised to learn their father can’t handle that.

Virgo’s eyes widen and they push to sitting, angled instinctively toward Diose. As if they’d stand a chance at sparing either of them this lecture. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snap. The tangled mess of rage, and pain, and fear they’ve tended since the hijack flares once again. “That’s—it’s— nothing to do with you.”

“Everything you do, either of you, reflects upon my name. There are eyes everywhere, children, do not think that any of your pathetic attempts at stealth render them blind. Money won’t buy their silence forever. What do you think happens when people begin to question why my daughter has been seen cavorting with some middle-district victor? When they question our loyalties?"

DIOSE

Instinctively, Diose grabs Virgo's hands. For support, and in case she needs to squeeze it so let them know it's time to shut up. Their father isn't the one to give up. And the angrier they make him, the worse the consequences will be. As much as she'd like to properly fight the man and get rid of him at once, Diose still needs him. And he is too powerful. And maybe, she is scared, fearful of what the man could do to her since she's not his blood. Both of her parents have always emphasized how powerful Valey blood is and how lucky she is that they rescued her from Ten. She doesn't doubt her father would be quick to turn on her now that his brainwashing has stopped working on her. Virgo is his biological child, which she sees as an advantage over her.

He says eyes are everywhere and Diose feels like throwing up. She knows this, obviously. Both Virgo and her do as they've been confronted with footage of their wrongdoings before. It was easy to deal with it back then just because Pista wasn't involved. Diose can only guess Virgo feels the same way given how protective they've been of their crush for months. "My loyalties are in the right place. Can you say the same, father? You seem to be losing allies while we've gained new ones. Regardless of who they are, you have always said there is strength in number, have you not?" It's a stupidly dangerous reply, but she is tired and won't have him hurt Pista. Her own self is fair game, but he is out of the question.

"Alliance?" An horrid, sarcastic chuckle fills the air. "Clearly your mother didn't do a proper job teaching you where your priorities should be. And you," he turns towards Virgo, eyes filled with rage. "It has everything to do with me. Defy me again and not even your mother will be able to save you from my rage. Neither will your sister or the fools you two have been sharing your time and beds with."

-------------------------------

We are headcanoning the rest because writing that man is exhausting, so bear with us.

Virgo and Diose continue arguing with their father. To give y'all some context, Minos keeps blackmail worthy footage of his kids. He is a producer and in charge of the propaganda you see everywhere, so he is omniscient. He has done this since they were both children and hasn't stopped. If anything, he has more of a reason to keep tabs on them now. He continues berating them about their recent choices and who they let his friends and colleagues see them with. By now it is pretty obvious Blythe and Pista are on his shitlist and he doesn't want them near his children. But do Virgo and Diose care? No.

When he implies he intends knows more than be is letting them know, the Valey siblings rightfully start worrying since if the man has managed to acquire footage of them on the trains, they're fucked. Diose is able to pretend she still has everything under control, but Virgo starts shaking.

Anyway, Minos grabs both Diose and Virgo and drags them towards the main hall. His intention is to take them home so he can fully unleash his fury without anyone seeing him, but Virgo and Diose are saved by the bell. Well, the rebel announcement. Everything is chaos. Virgo completely freezes. It reminds them of past announcements so they don't even react. Thankfully they got Diose who as we know is quick on her feet so she takes advantage of their circumstances, grabs Virgo, and heads straight towards her suite.

The spent the rest of the night having what is probably the most fucked up sleepover party you could ever imagine. Dioses tries her best to comfort Virgo while Virgo tries to fix Diose's cheek but they're both in such a weird state of mind they just stay up talking until they're so exhausted they pass out on Diose's bed.

#sp #in more steph n becky have a severe case of got brainrot news...

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