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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines.

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.”

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.”

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time.

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse, WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

#PSAs #asker concerns #diversity #motivations in writing #writing with diversity #blog housekeeping #internet hygeine #asks #WWC

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universitypenguin · 3 years

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Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex.

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on.

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 3 years

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Settling In: Family Dinner

Inspired by @i-cant-sing

If there was any word to describe the past week, you would choose quiet. A schedule was set for your time spent here and rarely it would deviate. Rei would wake you up to watch the sunrise with you and you’d get ready for the day with her. The outfit she chooses always sits on the bed waiting for you while she does your hair. Mornings are spent in either the sun room or the library, with Rei always watching. Though, she leaves to cook. She always left you to cook. If nobody else was home, that means you’d be left alone. Fuyumi would come by for dinner some nights and take your afternoons. Enji wasn’t home during the day, but joined you all for dinner every night before you could retire to your new room. Even if the schedule is slightly smothering, it’s easy to keep up with.

There were no chores or responsibilities for you to do, unlike your old homes. It was relaxing—too relaxing. There was no stress, so you created some. Tonight, instead of Rei, Enji, and maybe Fuyumi, the other two Todoroki children were coming over. You don't know what to expect, so you stress over it.

Fuyumi warned you that they weren’t as accepting as she was, that they weren’t as involved with the family as she was. You don’t want to make a terrible first impression. You don’t want your new siblings to hate you.

Fuyumi comes home earlier than her siblings, coming immediately home from work. Meetings, she says, that’s why she couldn’t have come sooner. You remember that she’s a school teacher. It’s easy to imagine what those meetings are about. Though, she doesn’t give you time to daydream about her, as she’s asking you questions.

“So Y/N, you’ve been here a week? Have you been enjoying your time here?” Fuyumi does your hair, extremely careful not to hurt you. She’s taken this responsibility from Rei for today. Rei’s been busy at the store and in the kitchen all day, leaving you with Fuyumi. You don’t mind that; she’s nice.

“It’s quiet.” You don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, but it’s the truth.

Fuyumi takes it well, “That’s good. Mom picked out some good books for you, did she?”

The library in the Todoroki estate may be massive, but most of those books Rei says are too mature for you. She’s regulated you to books below your reading level. They’re for children younger than you. But she doesn’t like to watch television and the laptop they’ve provided has only been gathering dust.

“If I’m honest, they’re a little boring.”

Fuyumi chuckles, “She’s a little out of touch from reality at times. I’ll grab you some books you’ll probably like better. I used to do a lot of reading when I was your age.”

“What’d you read?”

“Romance, mostly.” Fuyumi admits, “occasionally fantasy. I wasn’t trying to read anything too dark and neither should you.”

Too dark. Too mature. You wonder where that threshold is for them. You suspect it’s a lot higher than most people’s standards. You don’t dwell on this thought too much longer. Finding faults in your caretaker’s lifestyle isn’t the best way to stay in their good graces.

“How was school this past year?” She rests both hands on your shoulders. She’s done with your hair, but she isn't letting you go. You could probably move her to get out, but there’s no need. Fuyumi is nice and interested in what you have to say. Why would you leave her?

“Alright.” You reply. Even if it isn’t the truth, you wouldn’t speak it, “Don’t know where I’m heading now, though. We’re too far from my old school.”

“Father mentioned Somei and Mom talked about homeschooling.” Fuyumi replies, “We’ll have to see which one concedes first.”

You can’t imagine Rei fighting Enji on anything, especially something as trivial as where to take you to school. Though, you’d prefer if she concedes. Homeschooling seems like a nightmare.

“Oh, alright.” You respond. There’s nothing else to say on the matter and you hope Fuyumi lets up soon because you don’t know what to talk about anymore. Almost like a savior, a knock is placed on your door. It isn’t as strong as Enji’s—Fuyumi and Rei don’t knock at all—so, you assume it’s one of the brothers.

Fuyumi calls out to the person on the other side for you, “Hold on!” She finally lets up to open the door. You fiddle with the edge of your dress. The tulle is a bit itchy, but the smooth, holographic hearts covering the entire dress provide a nice change of texture.

You look up to see a tall, white haired guy. He’s broad, built like Enji as opposed to Rei. Though, the rest of his features seem to come from her. He stands in the doorway looking at you, then back at Fuyumi—who’s back to holding you on your shoulders again, causing you to continue to sit still in the vanity’s stool.

He takes another look at you and your fingers fiddle with the dress more. He’s unnerving and hasn’t said a thing he walked in. You start to speak, but he looks up at Fuyumi and asks, “What kind of quirk bullshit has justified this?”

That’s not what you expected.

You think to object, no quirk stuff has happened here—at least, that you know of. Though, Fuyumi immediately comes to your defense, “Natsuo! You can’t just ask something like that! Have some respect.”

“Do you really expect there isn’t an ulterior motive behind this.” Natsuo replies, “You know how he is with quirks.”

“He’s gotten better!”

“Prove it.”

“Uhhh, Natsuo, sir.” You break up the siblings' argument, “No quirk stuff has happened, really.”

He grabs a hold of your arm, looking at it thoroughly before heading to the next one. You don’t know what he’s looking for. Bruises? Burns? Scars? You have none of them from your time here.

You wouldn’t have anything quirk related anyways—you’re quirkless.

“Is this the lie he’s told you to say?” Natsuo asks, “You aren’t going to be able to lie. I see through his bullshit.”

“Natsuo!”

You want this conversation to end. Natsuo’s and Fuyumi’s hands are both icy cold and you don’t like the attention. Plus their argument is painful to listen too, especially considering it’s about you.

“Natsuo, sir…” You say, “there’s no quirk… anything. Really! I don’t have a... quirk.”

He lets go of your arm and it drops to your side. He stands up again. Fuyumi lets your shoulders go, moving to your side.

“Hey, chin up kiddo!” Fuyumi replies, smiling her everbright smile, “there’s nothing wrong with that!”

You didn’t even realize you were staring at the ground, but your feet soon come into view through watery eyes. Fuyumi’s fingers wipe away the tear that slips through.

“Hey, sorry kid.” Natsuo’s hands are in the pocket of his jeans and his shoulders are raised, “I have the habit of assuming the worst.”

“It’s fine.” You reply, laughing through the soft tears, “I should be over it by now, anyways.”

“Let’s head out of here.” Fuyumi takes your hand, leading you out of your room, “Father should be bringing Sho home soon. He’ll just love you, he won't be able not to."

Despite the ominous nature of Fuyumi’s statement, you let yourself willingly be led to the living room. Besides, where else would you go, anyways?

___

Gratefully, the three of you leave your room. The room was getting tense between the sibling pair. You don’t want to be the reason they fight, do you? They always look so close in the photos on the wall—even if nobody looks happy in those photos.

Natsuo leads the way. He walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. He has confidence, something you’ve started to lack now that you’re around all these powerful quirk users. You feel the cool air radiating from in between him and Fuyumi. She walks right behind you. If you stopped, she’d crash right into her.

But you don’t stop. You walk down the hallway and head towards the living room. There, two figures step in through the door. The first is the boy with half red hair, half white hair. The photos on the wall show him to be significantly younger and without the bright red scar covering one eye. He wears U.A.’s school uniform. One of the old children in your last home went there as well. The other person is Enji. He’s in his hero uniform still—flames and all.

Before anyone can say anything, Natsuo speaks up, “Father’s not using her. I already asked. She’s quirkless.”

He doesn’t say it in a negative way, but him bringing it up at all stings. You’re inadequate compared to them. They all scream of powerful quirks, but you don’t even have a quirk to begin with.

And now, you’re getting the suspicion that quirks are what this family truly cares about. Which leaves you in a terrible position—quirkless, surrounded by powerhouses.

“Alright.” Shoto deadpans, then slips his shoes and coat off. A cool wind blows in from outside, but it’s no different than standing between the cold Todoroki children.

Enji asks his sons, “Do you really think so low of me?”

“Yes.” Natsuo and Shoto reply instantly.

Luckily, Rei comes to your rescue, guiding you to a seat at the kitchen table. Whilst they talked, she set everyone’s plates wordlessly. She cooked this meal for everyone and you feel a slight pang of guilt, knowing that six mouths is a lot to cook for. You had smaller homes than that, which sometimes saw it too tiring to cook for their size. And Rei cooked a lot—much more than she’s cooked for the other meals you’ve had here.

Your plate is filled. You can’t imagine that you’ll eat all of this, but you’ll eat as much as you can. You wouldn’t want to make Rei sad, now would you?

“Thank you Rei, for dinner.” You reply, before taking a bite. As you sigh in pleasure, Rei’s other children echo their thanks. The food is so good that you block out all sound in order to focus upon it.

“Y/N, are you there?” Fuyumi jokes from her seat beside you.

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” You exclaim, then ask, “Did you need something?”

“Father just asked how your day was.” Fuyumi replies.

You tell him, “It was good.” He sits at the head of the table, just like last time. You don’t sit next to him, Fuyumi does. You sit directly one seat to the left than the seat you’ve been sitting in. You don’t mind, especially because to the other side of you is the one brother you’ve barely heard speak: Shoto.

He looks at you—he’s watching you. You can see him do it out of the corner of your eye. It’s unnerving to say the least. But you put your head down and continue eating, making sure to pay attention. Luckily, they don’t ask you too many questions. Most of the attention is on Shoto and Natsuo. They’ve returned home—the family all together, Rei calls it. You don’t ask about the other boy in the photos. He’s obviously not a part of the family anymore.

“May I be excused?” You ask as soon as you're finished eating, not keen to just sit there and listen to their conversations.

Enji doesn’t hold you back this time, giving you a silent nod. You take your plate to the kitchen and then head to your room, making sure not to bother them anymore. You don’t want to be seen as a bother anymore than you already are, do you?

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere bnha #reader insert #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #yandere todoroki family #yandere todoroki clan

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photonflight · 4 years

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🌺Caribbean Representation Through my Apprentice 🌺

Asks open for this article btw.

Why do this?

Growing up in the Caribbean, I never saw myself in media, nor did I see anyone representative of myself in popular media. I’m Trinidadian- but representation for Caribbean people has usually been limited to Jamaican. Jamaica has a beautiful culture, but like the other Caribbean islands, their culture is different.

This is why Dominique is Trinidadian coded, and mixed race (over 90% of Trinidadian people are BIPOC or mixed race). I wanted to feel seen and represented, and I wanted other Caribbean (especially Trinidadian BIPOC) women and girls like myself to feel properly represented by her. I wanted to show us that we CAN exist in fantasy worlds and be portrayed in a way that’s neither stereotypical nor offensive.

Many times in the media, whenever there’s a Caribbean character included (which is a very rare occurrence) they are given a Jamaican accent by default even when they’re not Jamaican, which has resulted in many people believing that there is one collective Caribbean accent (as a Trinidadian person I can’t begin to tell you how many non-Caribbean people have addressed me with “yea mon”.)

As a matter of fact the islands have their own different languages. Trinidadians speak Trinidad Creole, not Jamaican Patois.

A few examples I can think of would be

Ajay Chase- Apex Legends (Haitian, but has a Jamaican accent)

George- Metal Gear Rising (Guyanese, but has a poor Guyanese accent which sounds more Jamaican, and the vernacular he speaks with is more (stereotypically) Jamaican than Guyanese)

Sebastian- Disney’s adaptation of The Little Mermaid (Tobagonian (btw the country I’m from is called Trinidad and Tobago 🇹🇹) but has a stereotypical Jamaican accent)

Haitians speak Kweyol, not Jamaican Patois.

Guyanese people speak Guyanese Creole, not Jamaican Patois.

Tobagonians speak Trinidad and Tobago Creole, not Jamaican Patois.

These are all different languages entirely.

Additionally, no Caribbean people were included in the creation of OR the voicing of these “Caribbean” characters.

How is Domi different?

In short? Domi is a Caribbean, mixed WOC with a Caribbean mixed WOC Experience created by a Caribbean, mixed WOC

In long?🤣 read below

Origin

Domi is a Trinidadian-coded apprentice. While her country of origin, which isn’t Vesuvia, does not parallel the real Trinidad and Tobago, she has certain experiences that are common with Trinidadians who are like she is, is canonically confirmed to have an accurate and inoffensive Northwestern Trinidad accent, and her main outfit is colored after the national flag of Trinidad and Tobago 🇹🇹.

Experience

In BIPOC societies like Trinidad and Tobago, there are two interconnected experiences that stand out. Colorism, Featurism and Fetishization AND Identity Crisis

Colorism, Featurism and Fetishization

The term Colorism refers to prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.

Naturally then, as a result of colorism those with lighter skin tones are elevated within that group. A group which in Domi’s case makes up the entire society.

Featurism refers to the elevation of somebody’s features due to their proximity to whiteness and then results in the Fetishization of people who do have said features within the same ethnic group.

Domi grew up in a society that praised features and skin complexions by their proximity to whiteness, with an older sister who encompasses everything the society praised.

While Domi resembles her father, her sister Scarlet (named after the Scarlet Ibis, the National bird of Trinidad and Tobago) looks like their mother.

While Domi and her sister are both mixed BIPOC (and of course we come in different colors, shapes and sizes), Domi has darker skin than her sister does (though she is still of a light complexion) darker eyes, and darker curlier hair.

Her sister has fairer skin, blue eyes and straight dark hair.

Therefore within a society like this, it is natural that it is her sister that would’ve been elevated and praised for her beauty over Domi.

This has impacted her in various ways from a very young age, pushing her to overwork herself to be perfect at everything to make up for her lack of beauty, and as a child would constantly use glamor to give herself “better hair” and “nice eyes” (terms that result from the fetishization of certain features within BIPOC societies.)

Domi and Scarlet ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Identity Crisis

As is the case with many BIPOC who belong to families where many different ethnicities combine, Domi experiences an identity crisis.

Many Caribbean BIPOC ask themselves

-what am I?

-who am I?

-where do I fit in/belong?

-who do I identify with?

And I know that this is the case for many non-Caribbean mixed people as well. It’s not an isolated incident although this post deals specifically with the Caribbean experience.

Domi also deals with not feeling as though she fits in with either side, not being enough like her mother’s side (mixed Asian, dragon) and also not being enough like her father’s side (mixed Black and White, human).

Dealing with this causes her to question where she belongs, and second guess meeting new people for fear of what they’ll think of her.

Does Domi look like me?

Yes. The arcana IS a self insert game and people that look like us don’t appear very often regardless. Her appearance and specific ethnicity is inspired by me, as well as is the coding of her nationality (which of course is shared with 1.4M people)

However, her experiences, though loosely based on mine, are not isolated and were not based on my own so much as it was based on that of other mixed WOC I personally know and wanted them to feel heard.

Me vs My Apprentice 🌺 you can see where the inspiration starts and also stops🤣

#art #artists on tumblr #artwork #digital art #digital illustration #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #the arcana game #drawing #the arcana oc #the arcana mc

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nurvuss · 3 years

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I Watched the First Episode of Every New Spring 2021 Anime Airing on Crunchyroll

Hey, are you like me, and feeling like you're not getting the most out of your Crunchyroll subscription? Sure, there's stuff on there that you know you like. But whenever I look at the big long list of simulcasting shows, my eyes glaze over and I don't even know where to begin.

I wanted to change my habits and see if there were any shining gems that I should be watching. So, as per the title, I watched the first episode of every new Spring 2021 anime on Crunchyroll. And guess what? There’s a lot of crap! But indeed, there’s some stuff that’s worth your time.

Some clarification: I've only watched shows that began their first season in April 2021.

Backflip!!

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The Lowdown

As Futaba Shotaro comes to the end of middle school, his interest in baseball has begun to wane. Soon he notices the Ao High Boys Gymnastic Club and becomes enthralled, especially after seeing them perform. Once he learns they're down two members, he chooses to sign up and pursue the art of gymnastics. The club is also joined by Misato Ryoya, a star solo gymnast looking to expand his technique through teamwork.

Our Thoughts

Pretty formulaic shoujo sports anime: you've got your himbo, your thug, your ladies' man, your stoic guy, with Shotaro rounding out the cast as the shy and awkward audience surrogate. It looks wholesome enough, and the choreographed routines employ CG in a way that's quite convincing without being hideous.

Who It's For

Fans of FREE, or Yuri!!! on Ice, or any similar shows about cute boys who succeed at athletic feats.

Borscht Rating

Burning Kabaddi

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The Lowdown

Legendary high school soccer star Yoigoshi Tatsuya has given up on sports! That is, until he's blackmailed to join the high school kabaddi team, under threat of his online persona being leaked to the entire school. Although Tatsuya initially writes kabaddi off as stupid, the unexpected happens as he begins to have fun.

Our Thoughts

Kabaddi is kinda like competitive tag, or dodgeball but with your body instead of a ball. Burning Kabaddi is basically the shounen alternative to Backflip!! above, replete with nosebleeds, pratfalls, and dudes punching each other. The main cast don't seem to like each other very much; that probably changes as the show goes on but at first blush it's a dynamic I always find annoying.

Who it's For

Fans of Haikyuu!!? Maybe?

Borscht Rating

CARDFIGHT!! VANGUARD overDress

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The Lowdown

The newest series based on Bushiroad's collectible card game, featuring character designs by the beloved collective CLAMP. Petit middle schooler Yu-Yu just doesn't know how to say no. As his older students dress him in drag to use as live makeup practice, he suffers a panic attack and flees into the streets. After being accosted by a pickup artist, he's befriended by Megumi, who invites him to witness a Cardfight match at the local abandoned amusement park. However, Yu-yu is too shy to tell Megumi he's actually a boy…

Our Thoughts

What an unexpectedly weird concept for a show about a card game. Our hero spends the whole episode in drag, whimpering and simpering at the sight of any conflict. Then they show off the latest series of cards, which all seem to be giant buff knights with names like "Bad Steve" and "Violent Bruce". Your guess is as good as mine.

Who it's For

Cardfight!! lovers, Japanese gender studies majors, or the most desperate fujoshi.

Borscht Rating

Cestvs: The Roman Fighter

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The Lowdown

The year is 54AD, and Nero has taken the throne as the youngest emperor of Rome. At the bottom of the population, Cestvs is a young slave training to be a colosseum boxer. Reluctant, his only choice is to fight or die.

Our Thoughts

Seeing Nero depicted as a gentle little twink is pretty funny. It's also pretty funny that the central character is named after a Roman boxing glove. The animation style transitions to some very uncanny CG when a major fight takes place, and I didn't like that one bit! This seems like a pretty average tournament anime but with a historical setting. It's currently unknown if any of these dudes are fucking each other. I'm gonna say probably.

Who It's For

The venn-diagram of Greco-Roman history buffs and lovers of tournament series?

Borscht Rating

Don’t Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro!

Show Link

The Lowdown:

Hachioji Naoto is a nerdy, introverted student who spends his time studying and avoiding socialising. When pages from the fantasy manga he's drawing fall out of his bookbag, they catch the attention of a younger student named Nagatoro Hayase. Nagatoro begins to tease Naoto for his otaku interests and awkward demeanour, peppered with some suggestive flirting.

Our Thoughts:

What would you do if a younger girl flirted with you? Would you cry? Piss your pants maybe? Maybe shit and cum? Don't Toy With Me… attempts to barely conceal its BDSM fantasy with its comedic elements, but it's incredibly apparent as Nagatoro always wipes away Naoto's tears as a sort of aftercare. It's like a lighter, comedic version of Aku no Hana, but lacking any of the ponderings or danger that made that work so special.

Who It's For:

People who search Pornhub for "bratty sister femdom".

Borscht Rating:

86 Eighty-Six

Show Link

The Lowdown

The Republic of San Magnolia and the Giad Empire, have been at war for nearly a decade. Using advanced military technology, the frontlines are fought by giant mecha drones called Juggernauts, controlled remotely by Handlers. Major Vladilena Mirizé is one of the military's most talented Handlers in the 1st District, and one who is constantly teased by her peers for the humanity and empathy she shows her squadron. The government line is that drone warfare has kept casualties to zero, but unbeknownst to the public these "drones'' are piloted by 86ers—the lowest class of citizens, forced to live in military internment camps in San Magnolia's 86th District.

Our Thoughts

This is incredibly my kind of thing. We've got a dual narrative being set up here: Vladilena as the kind, reluctant officer of a fascist regime, and the Bad Company-esque antics of her new ragtag squad, Spearhead. The first episode is split pretty evenly between the two, with each story converging at the end as Vladilena "meets" Spearhead for the first time through her comms station. It's an explosive and enticing first episode, and I can't wait to watch more of it.

Who It's For

Fans of Fullmetal Alchemist, Psycho-Pass, Gundam, or any number of anti-imperialist war stories.

Borscht Rating

Fairy Ranmaru

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The Lowdown

In a quiet corner of the city sits Bar F, a modest drinking establishment staffed entirely by five hot young men. Unbeknownst to the general population, these men are a crack team of fairies sent to the human world to gather the latent energy of "attachment". They do this by solving the problems of young women, taking their hearts in the process.

Our Thoughts

Hubba hubba, a little something for the ladies! It's Weiẞ Kreuz with a bar instead of a flower shop, fairies instead of assassins, and some pretty revealing outfits. There's definitely a little Persona 5 inspiration here too, from the punctuating phrase "Take your Heart!" to many of the visual cues. Make of that what you will.

Who It's For

Fans of Weiẞ Kreuz, slash fic authors.

Borscht Rating

Farewell, My Dear Cramer

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The Lowdown

Onda Nozomi was once the star player of her middle school football team. Completely unmatched, she no longer plays as there's no opponent she deems to be on her level. Meanwhile Suou Sumire far outpaces her teammates, causing her frustration. By a twist of fate, these two girls find themselves joining the scrappy Warabi Seinan High School FC as they begin to learn the value of teamwork and friendship.

Our Thoughts

I don't know sports. And I really don't know football. I had to look up what the title meant, and now I barely know who Dettmar Cramer is. I'm really not the best person to judge this, but it seems like a pretty good female-driven sports anime.

Who It's For

Fans of Ace o Nerae! or other sports manga/anime about those ever burning bonds between young teammates.

Borscht Rating

Gloomy, the Naughty Grizzly

Show Link

The Lowdown:

Pitty lives with his pet Gloomy, a massive pink bear. Can a boy and a bear truly get along?

Our Thoughts:

This is a series of minute-long gag episodes in which Gloomy mauls Pitty and blood squirts everywhere. It's definitely meant to be a morbid parody of Sanrio or San-X; it might be a Rilakkuma parody in particular? Gloomy is the kind of thing you might laugh at if it came on in between shows, but it's pretty slight to go through the trouble of putting on.

Who It's For:

Gag anime fans with one minute to spare.

Borscht Rating:

Higehiro: After Being Rejected, I Shaved and Took in a High School Runaway

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The Lowdown

After a night of drinking in Tokyo, slovenly salaryman Yoshida encounters a teenage runaway sitting under a lamppost. She offers to sleep with him in return for letting her spend the night in his apartment. Yoshida refuses her offer but allows her to stay. The next morning the girl, Sayu, reveals she's travelled all the way from Hokkaido, sleeping with random men in return for lodging and money. Feeling responsible for her safety, Yoshida agrees for Sayu to stay indefinitely in return for handling household chores.

Our Thoughts

This is kind of the inverse of Koikimo (see below), but without a scumbag character and from a male perspective. It's not nearly as nauseating as that show, but it's still a fantasy about living with a busty teenage girl.

Who It's For

Libertarians.

Borscht Rating

I've Been Killing Slimes For 300 Years And Maxed Out My Level

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The Lowdown:

Office lady Aizawa Azusa dies of overwork in her early 20s, and finds herself standing before a lecherous goddess. Allowed a wish as compensation for her untimely demise, Azusa wishes for an endless life of leisure. The goddess reincarnates her as a 17-year-old immortal witch in an RPG-coded fantasy world. Thrilled, Azusa lazes about, brewing potions for her neighbouring villagers, and kills a small amount of slimes each day to supplement her income. After doing this every day for 300 years, she inadvertently finds herself at Level 99. Her peaceful life is soon upended as adventurers and dragons come from miles around to challenge the legendary witch.

Our Thoughts:

I'm not really an isekai fan, and that goes double for series which aren't set in an RPG, yet use RPG mechanics. Levelling up, grinding stats, min-maxing, as if it's a part of the fabric of the setting. I don't get it. I like watching numbers go up as much as the next dork, but I don't need to watch numbers go up in absolutely every piece of media I consume. Just play a fucking video game, Jesus Christ almighty.

I thought this might be setting up a fun series in which a layabout is reluctantly called upon to undertake a dangerous quest, but I don't think that's what's going on at all. When the red dragon Laika wrecks Azusa's house, she transforms into a cute young girl and the two begin living together, teaching each other the pros and cons of hard work and slothfulness respectively. The trajectory of the series might be as laid back as its protagonist in the end, which, ultimately, would be fitting.

Who It's For:

Isekai fans, slice-of-life fans. The twain have met!

Borscht Rating:

Joran: The Princess of Snow and Blood

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The Lowdown

In alternative history Japan the Meiji Period continued well into the 1930s, and the ongoing Tokugawa Shogunate has brought technological prosperity to the nation through a magical energy source called the Dragon's Vein. Sawa Yukimura runs a bookshop where she lives with her little sister by day, but by night she's an assassin for Nue, the shogunate's secret police. As the terrorist group Kuchinawa deploys transforming beasts in an attempt to topple the shogunate, Nue springs into action with their own abilities.

Our Thoughts

There are a lot of concepts competing here, and a few too many flashy transformation sequences for my taste, but I'm really into it! Nue are made up of sex workers and street musicians, often overlooked and therefore easily able to blend in. There's a supernatural Standalone Complex vibe to how the team operates, and they're almost assuredly on the wrong side. Worth a shot!

Who It's For

Fans of alternate history science fiction, Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex, Demon Slayer.

Borscht Rating

Koikimo: Koi to Yobu ni wa Kimochi Warui ("It's Disgusting to Call This Love")

Show Link

The Lowdown

Amakusa Ryo is a womanizing salaryman concerned with nothing but his own base desires. As he slips on the train station stairs one morning, he's saved by the swift action of Arima Ichika, a kind-hearted high schooler. When it turns out Ichika is friends with Ryo's younger sister Riou, he decides she's his soulmate, and begins to pursue her no matter how many times she refuses him. Comedy ensues!

Our Thoughts

Yeah, OK groomer.

Alright look, Korikimo is written by a woman and told from Ichika's perspective, so this is obviously meant to be a lighthearted "older man" shoujou romance. As an older man, all I saw were the adventures of a paedophile and the teenager he's stalking. Fuck off.

Who it's For

There's probably other stuff like this, right? If you like that, here you go.

Borscht Rating

Let's Make a Mug, Too

Show Link

The Lowdown

After the death of her mother, Himeno and her father relocate from bustling Tokyo to quiet Tajimi City in Gifu Prefecture. The former salaryman opens a quiet cafe using the remarkable mugs made by his late wife, while Himeno follows in her mother's footsteps and joins the school pottery club. Although her first project ends in disaster, Himeno makes fast friends with the eccentric pottery enthusiasts who make up the club.

Our Thoughts

It's no Eizouken, but I guess it's probably not meant to be. I'm not a big iyashikei genre fan, but if that's your thing, you might enjoy the wholesome non-adventures of three girls trying to make a mug. It's worth noting these episodes are only about 12 minutes long, with the remaining runtime segmented into live action episodes where the voice actresses tour Tajimi and unconvincingly pretend to be interested in Gifu's famous mino-yaki pottery. I think this must be a tie-in with a local tourist board.

Who It's For

People who enjoy stuff like Aria, actually.

Borscht Rating

OddTaxi

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The Lowdown

In a Tokyo populated by anthropomorphic animals, a solemn walrus named Odokawa spends his nights driving his cab around the bustling metropolis, spending his free time drinking with his pals. Odokawa soon finds his quiet life disrupted by a caper involving a missing girl, some crooked cops, and the animal yakuza.

Our Thoughts

A deft blend of working class slice-of-life with mystery, cute animals, and striking visual design. OddTaxi might be the sleeper hit of Spring 2021.

Who It's For

Fans of existentialist film noir with absurdist comedy, Polar Bear Cafe, walrus lovers.

Borscht Rating

Osamake: Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose

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The Lowdown

Suehiro Maruo Sueharu Maru has his heart set on Shirokusa Kachi, the hottest girl in school. When she begins dating a young actor, Sueharu confides in his childhood friend Kuroha Shida, who's openly in love with him and he rejected in the past. Kuroha suggests the two get revenge on Shirokusa by pretending to be in love. Will Sueharu fall in love with Kuroha for real, making her dreams come true?

Our Thoughts

Give me a fucking break.

Who It's For

I don't know and I don't care.

Borscht Rating

SD Gundam World Heroes

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The Lowdown

The newest instalment of the SD Gundam media-mix franchise. In a world populated by super deform mecha, a burning meteor lands in the middle of Captain City. From it launches a terrible mechanized beast: Naughty Lion. When the police are powerless to stop it, a crack team led by Zhuge Liang Gundam and Liu Bei Gundam sorties to bring Naughty Lion to justice. When the beast stops rampaging, it transforms into Sun Wukong Gundam, a youthful amnesiac mecha horrified at the destruction he wrought. The Three Kingdoms Gundams welcome Sun Wukong into the fold to make sense of this mysterious event.

Our Thoughts

I'm an 80s kid, I know a 30-minute toy commercial when I see one.

No, seriously though, I'm aware of SD Gundam's merchandising—they're cute designs, and I even used to have a bunch of the gum rubber mini figurines. I've played the SD Great War Super Famicom games, they're fun! This is a vehicle to get kids hyped up about the latest toys, which are...based on a hodgepodge of Journey to the West and Romance of the Three Kingdoms this year? There's even a little SD Guan Yu Gundam with a big long beard!

I kinda wanted to like the idea of a bearded robot, but the mechas are super busy and overdesigned. I guess there's only so much you can do to make your next series of toys bigger and better, so these guys are all decked out in gold accents, capes, horns, and antlers, and half the time I couldn't parse what I was seeing.

I'm so glad I don't have to watch any more of this.

Who It's For

Very, *very* young mecha fans.

Borscht Rating

Seven Knights Revolution: Hero Successor

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The Lowdown

Long ago, the Dark God Nestra ruled the world through fear. Standing against him were the Seven Knights, seven brave warriors chosen by the Light Goddess Serrass. With their powers combined, Nestra was defeated and the lands returned to peace. Hundreds of years later the wicked Physis Cult seeks to revive Nestra, summoning undead beasts to ravage the countryside. With the Seven Knights long dead, the Granseed Academy has risen to train the next wave of heroes to combat this threat. Using special cards, the students of Granseed are able to call upon the power of the Seven Knights to guide them in battle.

Our Thoughts

As soon as the opening started with its transforming heroes and lovingly depicted weapon cards, I realised this must be based on a mobile game. Indeed, this is based on a free-to-play gacha from Korean developer Netmarble. Even before I was able to confirm this, Hero Successor failed to draw me in, eschewing details on the nature of its world in lieu of a glamourised marketing push for its source material. What's here is incredibly slight, and likely to be of little interest to anyone who isn't deep into this game.

Who It's For

Seven Knights whales, I guess.

Borscht Rating

Those Snow White Notes

Show Link

The Lowdown

Sawamura Setsu mourns the death of his grandfather Matsugorou, a talented shamisen player who refused to pass his secrets on. Not knowing what else to do, he leaves his remote village for Tokyo, taking nothing but his shamisen along with him. Soon he finds himself wrapped up in the complicated life of aspiring actress Yuna and her scuzzy rockstar boyfriend Taketo. When Setsu opens for Taketo's band, he stuns the audience with the raw emotion of his playing. However, his heart is still tumultuous.

Our Thoughts

An entertaining first episode of a speciality music series, which is the kind of thing I have a place in my heart for. I couldn't shake the feeling of some latent misogyny that suggested the role of a woman is to inspire a tortured artist, but I might be wrong. The final few minutes take a twist by introducing Setsu's weird, horny mother who seems to have her own personal SWAT team, and it looks like the series becomes a more conventional high school anime from episode 2 onwards. Don't know about that!

Who It's For

Fans of Kids on the Slope, Sound of the Sky.

Borscht Rating

Tokyo Revengers

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The Lowdown

Former delinquent Takemichi is unsatisfied with the way his life turned out, living alone in a paper-thin apartment and working a minimum wage job under a boss who doesn't respect him. When watching the news one evening, he learns that his highschool sweetheart Hinata was killed, alongside her little brother. On the way to work the next morning, Takemichi falls in front of an oncoming train and wakes up 12 years in the past. Armed with foreknowledge, he attempts to turn his life around and save his onetime lover.

Our Thoughts

This is drawing from a lot of sources; the whole train sequence is lifted straight from Gantz, while the story itself initially seems like a Life on Mars kind of deal. In fact, Tokyo Revengers sees Takemichi jump back and forth between the present and the past, seemingly making small changes until he achieves his desired outcome. It feels like a very video gamey depiction of time travel, and one that's not super interesting.

Who It's For

Steins;Gate fans, maybe? Delinquent manga (Shonan Junai Gumi, Crows, etc.) fans, maybe? It's pretty self-serious compared to any of those.

Borscht Rating

To Your Eternity

Show Link

The Lowdown

An immortal being in the form of an orb falls to earth and becomes a stone. Years pass, an ice age sets in, and a white wolf stumbles onto the tundra and dies. The orb, able to take the form of anything that leaves a strong impression on it, transforms into the wolf and slowly learns how to use its newfound ambulatory body. The creature treks back through the tundra where it meets a boy living alone, after the rest of his village left in search of a better life. The boy recognises the wolf as his beloved pet, Johann, and the two begin living together in the harsh, lonely wastes.

Our Thoughts

I'm being a little coy with the synopsis here, and there's a major shake-up at the end of this debut episode. This one's based on a manga by the critically acclaimed Yoshitoki Ooima (A Silent Voice), and it's a depressing, compelling, and exciting start to a series. Lots of potential here!

Who It's For

Fans of NieR, Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon, Last Exile, Kino's Journey.

Borscht Rating

So, there you have it. I'm hoping this will be of use to anyone who experiences a similar sense of dread when faced with so many choices. Maybe we’ll do this again during the Summer 2021 anime season.

Also, please don't get mad at me if I'm snarky about your new favourite show! It’s just TV and I'm a big idiot anyway.

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ganymedesclock · 2 years

Note

If I may ask, what inspired you to make your world and story for Lornwood? was it a random idea and you build something on it over time, or something else? I'm really curious since many people have so different kinds of processes of creating something like a fantasy world.

In a broad sense my story creation process is adhd and overthinking.

Basically my brain has a lot of restless energy and it likes to bat ideas around sort of like a cat with a yarn ball; I see ideas or concepts and I roll them around in my head.

The story that became Lornwood was built heavily around Aeon, first as a character, and they were not necessarily created unique but out of something that affects a lot of my ideas: I really like "final boss" type characters, grand weird mystical beings or such, and it stands out to me that a lot of the deathless fantasy dark overlords of fiction exist almost entirely out of context with other characters. It's often hard to imagine what sort of daily schedule they might keep, if they live somewhere, or if they live at all.

One of my favorite things to do is put character archetypes played more or less straight in roles that they would normally have nothing to do with, also played as straight as I can get them- so, putting the space flea final boss in a protagonist role.

So I guess if there's a kernel that has been with Lorn from the very start, it was a question of, "Well, what makes someone a bad person? How do they become that way? And, what are they supposed to do when they've been that person for long enough and don't want to be?"

Because if you think of someone who, despite absolutely having the power to ruin or end others' lives, lives in the equivalent of a bleak dark room with no real possessions or comforts, there's a certain bereavement to that. And if you start to extrapolate a character just from that idea- it becomes a question of morality. Would we be good people, if we were alone in the dark and the only way that we reached other people was to make a fist and strike it out into the world?

Early Aeon was much more willfully aggressive- an active schemer and destroyer fitting their original inspirations. They were a big monster with no natural human form, who had, over a long period of time, played games and cut deals with various people of different degrees of desperate or angry, and took parts of their petitioners that they coveted, eventually assembling a body that they meant to use to escape into the real world.

It was a lot more of a narrative about laying low a haughty god- the chronic pain of the body thus assembled forced them to rethink everything about how they had before been unable to feel pain at all, and cared little about inflicting it. So early Aeon was a little, for lack of a better term, tropier- straightforward jrpg villain archetype, with one twist (basically living in a sensory deprivation chamber and lacking much ability for cognitive empathy) sent on a redemption arc. There were other gods in the setting, but their reasons for disliking Aeon were basically just because Aeon was a genuinely evil god. The setting overall was much more “rpg fantasy” rather than what it is now, which is more of a gothic fairytale vibe.

Honestly one of the biggest remainders of this time period is Eva’s color palette- she was directly inspired off a final fantasy white mage, so her outfits always prominently featured white with red accents. She was overwhelmingly invented as Aeon’s deuteragonist, who would supply them with medicine and carry her own troubles that led her to deciding somehow despite her mounting anxieties that this was Her Patient and she was going to see them through to the end.

That early story, called Heal, started to unravel I think the more I got acquainted with Aeon and Eva, and the former ended up more the deuteragonist to Eva than the other way around; not because their issues are less compelling but because the more their situation came together for me, the more it seemed intuitive that Aeon wasn’t really making progress on their issues- they were stuck, while Eva was the one whose presence and influence became the reason things start moving at this particular point. When she’s the whole reason the story happens at the time it does, it made sense to focus on her perspective.

Really, the funniest thing about that was I settled on Aeon‘s animal motif really early on as a shark, with the idea of their fearsome reputation as man-eaters contrasted with the fact that most shark attacks are an earnest accident, the consequence of a nearly blind predator groping in the watery dark with the only ‘hand’ they have to understand the situation- a hand that happens to be full of very sharp teeth.

Now, I feel like the shark as a motif fits current Aeon (trying their best, frustrated and trying to decide if they’re really resigned to being an ‘evil demon’ rather than actually working to be accepted as a god who can bring good to others) way more than it did original Aeon (a certain amount of genuinely malicious and uncurious, didn’t really worry about things until they were forced to). Although it certainly could be that in coming up with the symbol first, I built a language to talk about Aeon and then adjusted my understanding and depiction of the character based on what those symbols were telling me.

The Lorn itself was actually inspired off of Silent Hill- in particular I was thinking of how several Silent Hill games imply that the town is itself particularly antagonistic or angry due to its inextricable tangling with Alessa, and her perspective around her upbringing and torture. It made me wonder how a comparable “species”- a living location that seethes with power and reflects the hearts of those within it- might behave in a truly neutral sense, and that made me think of fairytales and folklore, the kill-or-cure of snake venom. And of course, the role of The Woods in so many stories; particular among them Little Red Riding Hood and her fraught passage into adulthood, the need to contend with darkness and ill-intended strangers to make her way to maturity.

So Lorn coming into the picture as simultaneously a setting and a character itself really was the thing that broke things away from Heal and gave an immediate and significant goal with all of the characters. At all times, they’re boxed in- both by the literal trees and eerie manifestations of the forest, and with the things in their lives it has taken on and embodied. The phrase “Lornwood” was a thing that I came up with offhandedly from a different idea and liked the sound of, but it wasn’t until I could properly anchor it in this story that I could answer what exactly the Lornwood was- the word “lorn” etymologically talks about loss.

And I think that was perhaps an important movement in conceptualization- because “Heal”, while I always intended it as a story to ask questions about what can and can’t be fixed and what it means to want to fix someone in the first place, still nonetheless implies that this is a story about, well, healing- rather than a story about loss, a story about grief, and the necessity of making our bed with the darkness one way or another, healing or not, to be complete human beings.

As far as fiddlier decisions, a lot of those happened sort of incidentally. Syther was originally conceived as a vampire, which in this setting was a thing accidentally Aeon’s fault; the character of Shion has probably changed the most out of the core three; I batted around a lot of different concepts for the gods before settling on the decision that this whole pantheon is one troubled family.

(the earliest concept for what became Sivi was close to an abject villain, which is very funny to me considering her current character incarnation is in some ways the closest thing this entire family has to a Lawful Good)

Really the person who’s changed the least is Eva. She became steadily more deadpan and a bit more fleshed out but for as much as the setting changed around her, her backstory stayed mostly steady. Sometimes you just get an idea that keeps going. I guess this is how she was able to seize the main character slot so easily.

Sorry Aeon. You’re still a protagonist in my heart.

#The Lornwood #readmore

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Note

Could I request an Asmo angst with fluff fic where MC is feeling insecure and questioning why Asmo loves them and Asmo comforts them? If you feel comfortable writing for him, of course, I know you said that you mainly write for Mammon and Levi 😁

Thank you for sending this request. ❤️ This is my first time writing a full length story for Asmo, but I think I did a pretty good job of capturing his personality. Please let me know what you think. ❤️

Perfect

Asmodeus x gn!MC

Words - 1724

Content warnings - some angst, lots of comfort and fluff

Prompt/Inspiration - anonymous request

Summary - Asmo asks you to be his date to a ball at Diavolo’s Castle, but you have some doubts about why he wants to be with you at all.

AO3

This had been such a stupid idea. Really stupid. How had you ever let him talk you into this? You should have seen this coming from a mile away. Or perhaps you did. Perhaps you knew exactly how this would all play out when he invited you to this ball, but decided to push those thoughts aside and keep living in your fantasy world for just a little longer.

You had stepped aside for just a moment to get a drink. And one moment was all it took. When you turned back around, there was Asmodeus just as you had left him. But as you took another step closer you saw that he was not alone. In fact, he was surrounded by a small group of very handsome demons, of all genders.

If he had been just talking, you don’t think you would have minded as much. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. But he wasn’t just talking. He was laughing and smiling with his charm dialed up to 11. Everyone was mesmerized by him. And who could blame them?

You had never met someone as beautiful as Asmodeus. And it wasn’t just his beauty that drew people to him, though he always seemed to think that it was. He was attentive, thoughtful, considerate. If you needed something, he always seemed to know before even you did. Whether that was a new bottle of shampoo or a hug, he always knew. He pampered you and spoiled you, and you did the same for him. Hour long baths where the two of you take turns washing one another’s hair and massaging away all the day's stress weren’t uncommon. And you frequently fell asleep in his bed just so you could feel his fingers running through your hair in the morning.

But none of that seemed to matter right now. Right now all you could see was Asmo surrounded by a group of beautiful demons. And he just looked like he belonged there. You looked down at your own clothes, the exquisite, tailored outfit that Asmo had picked out just for you. It had seemed like such a good idea to let him dress you up. But all you could think about in that moment was how utterly foolish you felt. Lipstick on a pig, you thought.

And so you excused yourself, slipping into one of the many empty rooms that lined the halls of Diavolo’s castle. You didn’t want to let yourself cry here. You knew it didn’t matter how quiet you tried to be, someone would hear you. Probably Mammon, in which case all hell was sure to break loose when he’d turn on his brother for leaving you all alone like that. But it wasn’t Asmo’s fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was simply being himself. His wonderful, perfect, sweet self. So you choked back your sobs, desperate to remain hidden.

Why had Asmodeus even brought you here anyways? Why did he insist on you being his date? He could have chosen from any number of demons. So why did he choose you? There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about you. You didn’t have any special skills. You could sing a little, but who couldn’t? You could draw decently enough, but what did that matter? You didn’t excel at anything. You were plain. Simple. Ordinary.

And he was all the things you weren’t.

As your thoughts continued to turn darker and darker, you didn’t notice when a slender figure slipped into the room. You didn’t see them sit down beside you. And you weren’t expecting it at all when you suddenly found their arms wrapped around you. But as soon as you were in their embrace you knew exactly who it was.

“Why are you all alone here?” Asmodeus whispered into your ear.

“Oh just a bit tired I guess. All that dancing got the better of me. You know, being a human and all. Looks like I just can’t keep up.” You tried to laugh it off and make excuses for yourself. You didn’t want him to worry. You didn’t want him to feel guilty. There was no reason he should feel guilty when the problem lay entirely with you.

“Sweetie, you know you can’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong, hmm?” Asmo gently cupped your cheek with one hand and turned you to face him. You averted your eyes and refused to look directly at him, but you could still feel him staring at you, which only made you blush in shame. What were you even supposed to say to him? How could you possibly explain?

“I...I...um…” as you struggled to answer, Asmo rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle circles to help coax your troubles from you. He hated seeing you cry. The sight always broke his heart. He tried so hard to keep you smiling and to make your life as peaceful as possible. He happily would have pampered you all day every day if you let him, but you always insisted on returning his affection with your own. And he adored that about you.

Asmodeus had received plenty of gifts over the centuries. And more than enough attention. But it was always for some purpose. There was always a reason behind their actions. From simple things to just wanting him to pay attention to them, to more calculating things like trying to win his favor.

He wasn’t used to people doing things for him for no other reason than to make him smile. But you did. You were so completely selfless. You weren’t scheming or plotting when you’d give him a gift or pay him a compliment. You were sincere. Genuine. You told him he looked beautiful, because you truly believed it. You said you loved him, because he made your heart soar. You hugged him often, because you wanted to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

“It’s ok dear, just take your time. I’ll listen.”

“I um...I just felt...out of place. Like I didn’t belong. Social anxiety I guess.”

Asmo knew what you looked like when you were anxious because there were too many people or too much noise, and that didn’t look like this at all. This was something deeper. Something that had taken root deep inside your heart and wouldn’t be fixed by a simple change of scenery.

“But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

“Yeah…”

“Go on.”

“...why did you choose me?”

“Choose you?”

“For your date. For this Ball. For anything really. I just can’t figure it out. And I...I look around and all I can see are the amazing people, well demons, that you know...and I’m just...I’m just not…” your voice broke off as you pulled away from Asmo’s hand and buried your face into your arms again.

Asmodeus wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He always told you how wonderful he thought you were...did you not believe him? Did you think he was just buttering you up to get something from you?

“So you think I’ve just been...lying to you this whole time?”, he asked.

“No! no! Of course not!” you almost shouted, as you snapped your head up to look at Asmo. How could he say that? That’s not what you meant at all.

“I just...when we are alone, it’s easy. It’s just us. But when we are out, like now, it’s...it’s hard…I feel like I’m the odd one out and I can’t figure out why you want to spend time with me in the first place. And I just keep waiting for the day when you finally figure out just how boring and plain and useless I am. You might not realize it now. But you will.”

“What makes you think I don’t already know?”

“What…” tears started to gather in your eyes again. Had he really already figured it out? Was this it? He was finally tired of babying you?

“Don’t look at me like that. That’s not what I meant,” Asmo replied, his smile gentle and kind, “I mean I know what those things are that you think you lack. I already know what you think are your flaws.

I don’t see them that way, though. I know I say all the time that I’m the most beautiful being in existence...but do you want to know the truth?

I think you’re far more beautiful than I am. Your soul shines brighter than any I’ve ever seen. You’re kind, and honest, and selfless.” Asmo leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“And you want to know something else?”, he asked, cupping your cheek again, wiping your fresh tears away with his thumb. You nodded slowly, unable to form the words needed to answer him.

“You see me. Really see me. You don’t get distracted by my looks. You aren’t affected by my charm. You just make me feel seen. Really and truly, seen. And no one has ever done that before. And I doubt anyone ever will again.

You might think you’re plain, or boring, but I don’t see it that way. There is no one else I’d rather spend my time with. No one else better suited to be at my side.”

By now you were crying hard, your vision so blurry with tears you couldn’t even make out Asmo’s face even though he was right in front of you. All you could do was reach towards him and let him pull you into a hug, tucking your head under his chin. Just a moment ago you were trapped so deeply in your own thoughts you regret ever leaving the house. But now? You were the happiest being in all three realms. You had someone who understood you and knew all the right things to say. You had never felt more loved than you did in that moment.

Asmodeus gently held you as you cried the last of your tears. And when your breathing had finally calmed, he spoke again.

“Now what do you say we go get you cleaned up so I can show everyone just how lovely my date is and what a perfect couple we are?”

You gave Asmo a small laugh as you pulled away, looking him in the eyes, a warm smile spreading across your lips.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

#anon request #request #gn!mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #asmo x mc #obey me comfort #obey me angst #obey me fanfic #asmo comfort #asmo angst #asmo fanfic

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helenaklein · 4 years

Note

Heya, i come across your blog while talking about nelroche etc. I never know anything about l&l since i never play lovestruck, can someone give explanation which part that is similiar? While idk anything about lovestruck, I found their previous work also has similiar with manga yana of the dawn (which i have read the manga, and yes, they are pretty similiar to called it just coincidence).

okay so fair warning... this is long as fuck because there are more similarities than there are differences lol. also as a disclaimer i’m only invested in this whole thing insofar as it entertains me but if the “””””creators””””” want to fight me because i wrote this post.... they’re welcome to but i promise i’ll have more fun than they will lmfao

l&l’s about a young woman from a major city in our world who one day gets sucked via magical portal into a fantasy world filled with magic and races that are only fiction in ours. once there, she gets mistaken for their most notorious war criminal, an insanely powerful witch who committed a genocide and is center of a cult of worshipers willing to kill and die for her.

this is nelroche’s description, straight from their devblog:

now, if it was a matter of similar basic premises and setups, i’d write it off as coincidence and tell the anons who made me aware of this that i thought they were overreacting. after all, “normal-human sucked into medieval world” and even “mistaken identity” are both very well established tropes that have been done and done again and will continue to be done because many find it compelling. hell, i do too. honestly, if the devs had simply said that they drew inspiration from love & legends, i’d have understood.

but.

the similarities only begin there. and they only get more excessive. coupled with their adamant denial that they’ve never even read it....... it’s just not possible lmfao. even if they decided to change the physical appearances of the characters, the tropes behind them and their personalities are exactly the same.

the nelroche demo has:

1) the lord of a region who’s a massive workaholic to the point of self-detriment, but is very caring towards their people and their inner circle and whom everyone in the group has referred to as a parental figure.

aka.... l&l’s reiner wolfson, who’s described directly from the app as “Reiner is a fair and compassionate ruler who would defend the people of the human domain with his life.”

2) the prickly knight to said lord, who’s fiercely dedicated to their liege, very serious in personality along with stubborn and prideful, but cares deep down once you get past their walls.

literally l&l’s august falke. the demo describes them, literally as “...reminds me of the knights in the fairy tales, except, it seems, not quite as charming” whereas august’s in-app description reads “This knight in shining armor is more aggressive than the story books led you to believe...” I’ll let the similarities there speak for themselves.... lol

3) the energetic and bubbly mage who’s super tiny compared to their companions and avoids serious discussion, who happens to be a bit of a trickster and has a mysterious quality.

l&l’s altea bellerose but make it less pink! altea and “C”s similarities go even deeper but i’ll get into that a bit later.

4) the mysterious and heterochromatic-eyed figure who’s distrustful and initially stand-offish as a result of living through a life of hardship, that is excitable and actually loves to travel.

look no further than l&l’s saerys! M’s eyes are “ocean blue and purple” compared to his blue and red, but don’t let that difference fool you! their introductions are laughably similar (more on that later)... and the “travel” bit lmfao. not to be mean but they couldn’t at least change up his hobbies? come on now, work for that plagiarized bag!

5) the lazy and flirtatious one who’d rather spent their days joking and taking it easy than handling their many responsibilities, who does care but shows it in ways unconventional.

just because their hair is grey instead of white doesn’t mean it’s not l&l’s iseul idreis, babes! i’d know that endlessly frustrating man anywhere! lovestruck’s app description for him reads: “The elven prince is beautiful and cunning with a silver tongue, but his lackadaisical lifestyle leaves much to be desired”. corporate wants you to find the difference between these two pictures they’re the same dot jpg.

6) the complicated and slender blonde who wields both blade AND magic, whose eyes glow, whose power is deemed dangerous, who wears shades of blue, AND is initially described as cold? who seems like she wants to beat the hell out of her compatriots, who she seems to lead, and whose outfit is needlessly complicated?

you think i don’t know a knock off helena klein when i see one???? ME???????? helena’s in-app description LITERALLY reads “cold as ice” and “wielding both sword and sorcery with ruthless precision”!!!!! of alllllllllll the things i’m most offended by this one motherfucker you can’t just fuck around with helena on a whim okay this shit is personal now!!!!!!

7) the creepy, predatory, and combative pale-but-tanned-but-murky-skinned dude who wears robes and a creepy beast mask.

l&l’s jinhai jubal i know it’s you!!!! actually this is probably the funniest thing of the whole situation to me bc this dev decided to remove not-alain as a love interest and seemingly replace him with not-jinhai. secondary poster you a hilarious bitch i’m not gonna lie.

(here’s jinhai in his mask lmfao)

8) the mouse-looking man who seems not as confident as not-helena and not-jinhai, wears full armor AND a double-sided sword strapped to his back.

none other than l&l’s alain richter, back from the dead! im gonna let the next image speak for itself.

still with me? i sure hope so bc it really gets juicy now!!!!! the similarities don’t end with the characters!!!! no, no, no!!!! the plot and progression of the demo are identical to that of l&l’s pilot episode, beat for beat.

in the l&l pilot episode, after the mc stumbles through the portal and into the medieval town, she’s almost immediately accosted by august, a rude mf who essentially acts not very knight-like despite his appearance and forces her into the nearby castle’s dungeon.

once inside the dungeon, the l&l mc is approached by a figure with hetero-chromatic eyes, who seems intrigued and confused by the mc’s lack of knowledge about the fantasy world.

once that person leaves, in comes a bubbly woman who seems to be floating. she asks mc if she’s ready to get out of the dungeon, and mc is like!!!! finally someone willing to help me. only..... uh oh.... she takes her to her lord instead of freeing her, wtf!!!!

once brought to the lord, who seems much more calm and reasonable than his high-strung and feisty knight, he listens to mc’s story and seems to believe her somewhat, but doesn’t want to risk his people.

(he’s even standing at the window LMFAOOOOOOOOO)

then the last remaining figure (iseul) playfully suggests that the lord (reiner) allow the mc to pick which among the group she’d like to guard her while they all determine whether or not she’s being truthful about not knowing anything. this is literally! literally! LITERALLY! how the PILOT EPISODE! of LOVE AND LEGENDS! ENDS!

ARE YOU SERIOUS LMFAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOO. going through all this is literally fucking HILARIOUS to me like ak;sdfjadsfkl;asdfjlasdf how BOLD and BRAVE do you have to be to so blatantly rip something off and then deny even ever encountering what you stole from adsfkjldfasdfkasd,f. i’m not even super mad bc like.... i torment voltage for funsies. but! LMAO!!!!!!!!

lastly..... as an added bonus to all of the juicy, juicy evidence above. l&l mc has a best friend in the “real”, modern world, who inexplicably has a lookalike in the fantasy world. well..... would you believe it if i told you that the nelroche has one just like it???

that’s right! even sophie and solaire made the plagiarism cut! gotta love those girlies, i’m so happy for them :)

the end!

#lvstrck #long post #do i tag this bc i want to cause problems on purpose?????#love & legends #l&l #nelroche #oops!#Anonymous

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lycauris · 3 years

Text

23/02/21

Hello! It's been a while since I last was here, aha, an update is in order!

There's now a twitter account to go along with this blog, as well as an art blog on here!

Blind Impressions' worldbuilding and outline progressed greatly.

Silk Dove is undergoing some rethinking.

Catching Up

I have been away from this blog for a long time, for various reasons: other responsabilities, of course, eating up my time and energy... plus, not insignificantly, some poor planning on my part and faltering confidence regarding art.

Silk Dove took the greatest hit on that front; finding a feasible, yet satisfying style for the project proved more difficult than expected. Never enough, always lacking, displeasing even... and, in the end, nothing done.

As I reached no solution, I switched towards Blind Impressions and writing, the one skill that, seemingly, had been practiced enough to no longer pose a threat for my pride. Ah! if only perfectionism was that easily assuaged! paired with little planning, writing doesn't lead much further... at least for me.

Thus, a few change. The latter project being fantasy, I was hoarding a monstruous amount of notes on the cultures, the characters, the possible chapters - all haphazardly strewn over a few files in scrivener, sometimes grouped by themes, mostly thrown in as the thought occurred to me. I... well, I certainly wouldn't recommend this approach to other writers, aha. Finding specific information or getting an overview of the project had become rather... arduous.

Tediously, I organised them all in a rather gigantic "bible" for my universe - an encyclopedia of sorts, from geography to religion, magic to mourning rituals, each entry complete... eventually, as I am not lying about its size, aha. Some of them may end up public, too, in a glossary for example... more importantly, doing this granted me clarity on the state of the project. Conclusion: all these worldbuilding notes serve no purpose without an outline!!

Hence... me, embarrassed, hacking away at that outline and slowly regaining the motivation and delight I had lost. Having a compass sure helps finding one's way!

Similarly, I will try to apply such planning and... yes, discipline to Silk Dove so that I finally settle on a style... soon-ish.

I'm not sure at what rhythm I should update this blog, or the other accounts mentioned above; I intend for them to have only updates as this one, or actual content, and I'd rather not update without having something to show off, which sadly means visuals. So... we'll see? aha.

Worldbuilding & Fashion, pt. 4

Back when I drew those concepts related to the astrologists, inquisitrices and officials, I completed a last one for commoners in the province of Broënn, where the story takes place.

Broënn has a distinctive past and culture from the rest of the country; long independent, believing in another empire's goddess, the then-admiralty joined An Thây only after its prince was pressured into marrying the queen. If he left his lands into the hands of his royal lineage, however, his subjects weren't as quick to espouse these customs.

Slowly, slowly, with decades helping, the province changed under the new administration: fresh roads led through its tenebrous forests, its treacherous coasts, while temples enlightened the minds; its numerous saints stepped into the astral planes, their tales enriched of distrust for the sorcerers of old and unending praise for her majesty.

Still, Broënn stands too south from the capital, from its interests, its severity; the sky is high, yes, and the queen so far away... as dynasties fell and rose, fell and rose again, their unfettered officials forewent their obligations, basked in bribes and unlawful taxes. Thence, the deeper one travels into the province, the looser the royal influence... and the stronger the past traditions.

Brittany serves as a major inspiration for Broënn, especially the clothing, here; I'm quite a fan of their lace headdresses! both men and women wear them in my universe, and outfits are less segregated by sex than in other regions. Those drawings concern only poorer people of Broënn; wealthier folks wear intricately embroided raiments, the patterns lightly enchanted to embellish or strenghten the pieces.

I was losing steam when I drew these, though (as can attest my last attempt, different out of frustration, aha, and that poor last man having no hands!), I would inject a few other details now - notably to translate the influence of some other inspirations and neighbouring countries.

Closing Words

Since I spoke of Broënn, let me leave you with a song in Breton from my Blind Impressions playlist!

youtube

#upcoming game #devlog #vndev #english visual novel #interactive fiction #lycauris logs #blind impressions #silk dove

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98prilla · 4 years

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Understanding

@coquettishcass you can never escape what your art has inspired.

A direct continuation to Comfort, Patton helps Deceit tell the others about his struggle with depression.

He is… scared. Not an emotion he will ever admit to, not out loud, but he is scared out of his mind.

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He can’t seem to summon his usually sly smile, he can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes.

He can feel Virgil’s eyes on him the most. They are hard and cold and burning daggers, but the more he looks, the more puzzled his gaze. He knows Virgil can feel his fear, his anxiety, at being here. So different than his usual surety, but he doesn’t have the strength for his usual facade.

“I should just go.” He mumbles. Patton squeezes his hand, says no, at the same time Roman spits out a low, growled, yes. He flinches, he’s still too tired for this, too empty for this.

“Roman!” Patton scolds and he feels Roman’s incredulous gaze.

“What? I’m just saying what everyone is thinking. I don’t know what fantasies he’s been spinning that made you invite him to this meeting you’ve called, but I’m sure they’re just lies.”

He jerks away from Patton, stumbling back as if struck, liar, echoing in his ears. That’s all he is, after all. All he’ll ever be. Roman’s words cut straight to his core, because they are everything he knew Roman would say, he is not welcome here, never here.

“Dee?” He jumps, startled. He hadn’t realized Virgil had moved from his customary spot on the stairs, was now next to him.

He’d forgotten Virgil is taller than him. He stands in Virgil’s shadow now, unable to meet those dark violet eyes, unable to respond to the concern emanating from him in waves because his voice is stuck in his throat. He is seeing a thousand memories behind his eyes, of before Virgil left, before Virgil hated him, and he doesn’t deserve Virgil’s care, now. Virgil shouldn’t feel obligated to care.

He has never felt this small. He can hear Patton, standing in front of him defensively, explaining to the others about his depression. His bad thoughts. His nightmares.

Patton had asked his permission, to hold this meeting, to tell the others, and he had given it. He knows he wouldn’t get the words out, knows the others wouldn’t believe it, coming from him. But they listen to Patton, and Patton had asked, instead of just blurting it out he had asked, and Patton had already helped so much, so he had agreed.

Now he wishes he hadn’t. Wishes he was hiding back under his covers, because Roman is still arguing, disbelieving, and Logan hasn’t said anything, is just staring at him, and Virgil is so close, so close, and he wishes he could reach out, wishes he could give him a hug, but he lost that right years ago, he won’t ever ask anything of Virgil, even though he is almost shaking from the effort of not, is on the cusp of shattering under that fathomless gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He manages to rasp out. He is hugging himself around his middle, cold again, afraid again, as he hears Patton finish his explanations.

“When did it get this bad?” Virgil asks lowly. He thinks Virgil knows, it is easy enough to guess, and he shakes his head, refusing to answer, refusing to make or even let Virgil consider himself to blame.

“S my fault. I hurt you I… I deserve… this." He gestures at himself, all of himself.

His rumpled clothes, not even his usual outfit, just sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. His hair, curly and tangled and disheveled, the bags under his eyes, darker even than Virgil's, his near constant, small, shivers. And that is only what they can see. There’s so much more, he is so damaged, he is just a master at hiding it. Roman isn’t the only one who can act.

“Falsehood.” He jumps again at Logan's quiet word, eyes landing on the logical side, who for once isn’t hiding all of his emotions. He can read concern and consideration and… not quite pity, empathy, maybe, before he looks at the floor.

“Deceit. Depression is an invisible monster. It makes you think you should be hurt, it makes you hate yourself, it makes you think the world would be a better place without you-” He knows this and yet…

“Wouldn’t it be?” he doesn’t realize the words have slipped past his lips until he hears Logan’s sharp inhale, Patton's soft coo of distress, a muffled curse from Virgil. Roman is the only one who's silent, and when he finally gets the courage to look up, his silence is not what he expected.

Roman is frozen in place, face a mask of almost horrified awe, but as he watches, it becomes softer, and then Roman's eyes meet his.

He flinches as Roman makes his way across the room, until he is right before him, and he is waiting for the sing of steel, for the ice of pain, for it all to end.

Instead he is pulled close, and tight and warm and he realizes Roman, Roman of all people, is hugging him.

He thought Patton's hugs were something, Roman's are altogether different. They are stong and fierce and overwhelmingly scream of safety, of protection, of defensiveness from the rest of the world, of love.

“No, God no, Deceit. I'm sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. I thought… I thought you liked playing the villain, I thought that’s what you wanted, to be spooky and mysterious and the bad guy. I didn’t know… didn’t know it was hurting you, that I, was hurting you. I’m sorry.” Of everything he’d expected Roman to say, an apology had never even crossed his mind. The fact that Roman means every word just baffles him further, and he doesn’t even know what to say if he could summon words.

“Roman is correct. I had assumed, wrongly, that based on your antagonistic behavior you did not desire our friendship or companionship. I see now your behavior is more similar to Virgil’s scare tactics when he first appeared than to true enmity. I apologize, Deceit. If you would like, I will look into different treatments and methods of living with and managing depression. We can work together to determine what is most effective in minimizing the symptoms and length of your episodes, as well as what we as a group should and shouldn’t do to help avoid on setting these episodes in the first place. Despite all of these measures, there will still be episodes, and days you are not ok, and that, too, is natural. It is not deserved, it is not your fault, and we will all help support you through them.” He nods, that’s all he can do, he doesn’t understand why they’re being so kind, he doesn’t understand how to comprehend this overwhelming niceness, doesn’t know how to explain to them how little he deserves it. Then Roman pulls back, and he almost protests the loss of warmth, but now he is facing Virgil.

Their eyes meet for a single moment, before he looks away. What can he say, what can make things better, what won’t tear them apart even more, because this, between them, is of his own making, was borne of his own self-destructiveness, is own damn fault and always has been. He has always been the problem.

Then Virgil lets out a small breath, and opens his arms, and before he can help himself he is propelling into them, so fast that it almost knocks Virgil over, but he doesn’t care, right now, because it is Virgil, and he is solid, he is real, he is warm, he is there, he is holding him, he still smells exactly the same, coffee and ink and paper, and maybe a hint of tea, now, too, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this moment.

He doesn’t know when they ended up on the floor, but his legs must have given out at some point, because they are both kneeling, and he his clinging to Virgil and sobbing again, and trying to stutter out incoherent apologies, and it hurts like hell, but feels so damn good at the same time and he doesn’t think he will ever, ever let go of his storm cloud again.

“I know, I know, dee. It’s ok, it’ll be ok, I promise. You don’t... you don’t have to do this alone.” His sobs are dying down into silent, sniffling tears, and he responds by gently butting his head against Virgil’s chin, like a cat demanding attention, and he feels a prism of light explode inside of him at Virgil’s breathy laugh, at the small smile that flickers across his face, at the fondness in his eyes as he looks down at him, at the warmth present there after having been so, so cold, for so, so long, and it nearly breaks him again.

“... you gonna let go anytime soon, Scales?” His breath catches. That had always been Virgil’s nickname for him. He hasn’t heard it years, hasn’t thought about it in years, and the question has him burrowing back into Virgil, mumbling a very shaky, very determined no, his heart seizing at the very idea. “ok. Imma move us to the couch then, if that’s ok?” Virgil asks, and he nods, feeling Virgil scoop him up, gently sit down on the couch, and the whole time he doesn’t let go once, lest Virgil disappear from his fingers and this is all a dream.

He feels warmth settle on the other side of him. He glances up, surprised to see it’s Roman who has wrapped an arm around his shoulders, is cuddled around him, filling him up with more of that intoxicating warmth he’s been lacking for so, so long.

“Is this ok?” Roman asks, his voice is so... different, now. Where it was once steel cold as his katana, now it is warm and hesitant, a little unsure, a little protective, not of Virgil, but of him. He just nods, curling tighter against Virgil, as Roman curls tighter around him, and he can’t help but let out a small sigh of happiness.

He hears Logan settle in his armchair, can feel his small smile from across the room as he flips open a book. Knowing him he’s already studying up, researching, he’ll be taking notes all day now, idly sharing facts and statistics, each of which will make him feel just a little bit better, just a little less alone, because even though he knows objectively thousands of people out there have depression, it still seems like he is impossibly the only one with this pain.

He hears Patton, humming and moving around the kitchen, probably baking something, that’s what Patton always does when his emotions are heightened to an unsustainable level. He wonders if Patton would be surprised to find that he has the same mechanism, cooking when stressed, because then at least he has control over something in his life.

Distantly, he hears Logan call for Remus. He hears Remus pop up, surprised and unprepared, because no one has ever summoned him before, and they start speaking, oddly serious, for once. He realizes Remus is speaking about him, his condition, that Logan has asked if Remus wants to help research, that Logan gives him a stack of books to read through. He can imagine Remus’s awe at being trusted with any of Logan’s books, knows the care he will take, because he craves their approval like a drug, and Remus cares about him more than is good for him, and will do anything to help. He already has the most knowledge of depression anyways. Dark creativity is his department, after all.

Well, Remus can wreak whatever havoc he wants, today. Logan summoned him, Logan can deal with him. He’s still tired, still hasn’t caught up on sleep, and he feels the dull thrum of familiar fear rising in him at the notion. But Roman is snuggled up against him, his head on his shoulder, Virgil is holding him close, and no pillow could possibly compare to the absolute wonder of the real thing, and he feels himself slipping under, into the dark, but before, just before, he hears it.

“Love you, scales.” and he means it.

#sanders sides #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus mention #depression #emotional hurt/comfort #Angst with a happy ending #everyone needs a hug #they're all good beans #this is what quarantine has made me do #can't stop won't stop #all aboard the feels train #first stop never

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

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Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot

Hi to anyone reading,

Where TF has the time gone!?

After experiencing the longest January of all time (when your birthday is right after New Year, you get that between Boxing Day before NYE slump like a couple of weeks after everyone else), February has gone by in, like, 5 minutes and already we’re well into the throes of the F/W 2021 collection presentations. Meanwhile, I’m here like! Surprise! Here are my reviews of the S/S 2021 collections if anybody still cares! I mean I’m mashing it up with corresponding haute couture week reviews to fool everyone into thinking that doing it so many months later was intentional and it was totally working right up until this sentence, right?

In all fairness, I originally thought that I wasn’t going to bother reviewing S/S21 because it seemed kinda redundant given the circumstances and I wasn’t keen on the idea of collections being showcased via photo sets which is the route so many brands chose to (understandably) go down. Buuuut, the more I saw of what designers had put out there, the more I was tempted to put this post together and now here I am. The fact that designers are even able to churn pieces out during a pandemic when I’m out here like 0__0 no thoughts, head empty...it’s impressive to say the least, especially the way so many used the circumstances to inform their designs. In a way, it would be a disservice not to do a post on the season, and yeah it’s late, but given that it we are actually about to enter spring and the shows are kind of the deciders of what’s going to be “in” and “out”, they’re more relevant than ever. With plans for our way out of lockdown materialising-now is the perfect time to add that I don’t want ANYONE suddenly developing selective amnesia over how our government has failed us now that Boris has announced when the clubs COULD reopen-let this post serve as a roundup of every bit of inspiration available for our spring fits. I also want to use this opportunity to disclose how irritated I am at myself for starting the previous fashion week reviews post by declaring I was going to work through the designers in chronological order when I meant fucking alphabetical because I now can’t go back and change that. So this time, let me start properly. I’m going to be reviewing the collections in ALPHABETICAL order. Now that’s out the way, let’s do it. First, Acne:

It’s so great to start on a high, it really is, and fortunately Acne is reliably good. It’s still got that deconstructed, minimalist feel that the brand is known for but for the summer season; we can see creative director Jonny Johansson and his team moving away from the heavier pieces we saw last time round, away from upcycled bohemian curtains and towards a breezier, more season appropriate aesthetic, boujee kaftans and swimwear rebelliously hacked up and artfully rearranged, and it feels correct. The net pieces, the beachy colour palette, the oil spill-esque print (though this represents an intruder of the marine ecosystem, as a print I loveee it and 100% want more!) and the accessories, reminiscent of shells, coral and anything else you might find on the seabed, give me a hipster mermaid washed ashore vibe which completely fits with that rugged, mysterious sense of Nordic folklore references and adventure the brand has established as its foundation. If it’s a nod to some kind of new age cult that Johansson was going for, which apparently is the case, I’m guessing said cult worship sea goddesses and perform pagan rituals on the beach by moonlight, and though indoctrination doesn’t sound at all inviting, it's a party compared to scientology.

The chiffon trousers here are actually chic and seeing them styled under a blazer makes me realise done right they CAN be more than just a PrettyLittleThing summer sale piece, so I’ll store that away for outfit inspo when the time to get rid of some layers comes around. The glasses, too, are very Gucci. Flip flops with socks I don’t think I can ever come round to but-

Whilst it was a favourite of mine last season and it sticks to that same bohemian vibe with a lot of the elements I love, Ferretti lacks a little oomph this time round; it’s more stripped back, neutral, easy-going, and it is lovely, but for those same reasons it doesn’t grab my attention as much as the past couple of collections have. If you’re an influencer wanting to shoot a Joshua Tree desert lookbook this is sublime, but compared to the flair I saw in their last winter show, for example, there’s something lacking.

I’m very glad to see neutral coloured boiler suits on the runway, however; I snagged myself one off Depop the other week so I might be unintentionally ahead of the curve for once! The crochet detail dresses are nice too but very much remind me of past Zimmerman collections, or an Ermanno Scervino grab for the most high street friendly parts of Erdem SS2020, something along those lines. What I’m trying to say is that it’s definitely been there done that, even by Ferretti themselves and not in a continuity kinda way, in a kinda…this is basic and pretty so we know it will sell kinda way.

Eurgh, I wanna be one of these Alessandra Rich girls so bad.

I end up repeating myself every single time because I always love her collections but really, this is what a high fashion novice thinks Chanel is. Alessandra Rich outsold. As much as her dresses have looked amazing on people like Kate Middleton and January Jones, I’m just waiting for one of the modern it-girls to take the nostalgia-tinged femininity of her pieces and put some kind of daring, street-style twist on it; if that doesn’t happen I’ll gladly take 5 minutes of fame so I can do it before fading back into obscurity. Let me fulfil my modern first lady fantasy, reenact the croquet scene from Heathers, drape myself on a chaise lounge whilst smoking with a cigarette holder, and then throw me back into the trash where I belong. I can die happy. Also, can we once again appreciate how much more iconic the Alessandra Rich two piece made the already moment Dakota Johnson singlehandedly brought down the Ellen dynasty?

Dakota knew exactly what she was gonna do and the energy that she was gonna channel when she wore that piece and I admire it. Alessandra Rich, if nothing else, will go down as a key moment in pop culture history, and you know what? It’s what she deserves.

Whilst I do wish she’d branch out a little and try and get back in touch with the dark drama of old McQueen collections now and again, Sarah Burton has made a very recognisable Alexander McQueen silhouette and it’s beautiful; this season is gorgeous as always. A leather biker and tulle affair that’s perfect for a grunge ballet, it’s easy to avoid lamenting the excitement and theatrics of old collections when Sarah creates such consistently sophisticated pieces. Stunning.

Now, a quick haute couture detour with Alexandre Vauthier:

Compared to other haute couture collections, this is pretty toned down and by appearances alone (I know haute couture is more about meeting technical requirements more than anything else but there is a level of grandiose you expect to see) is more like a RTW collection than its counterparts. That being the case, I don’t have a huge amount to say about this one, though I do really like it-the ruched metallic boots especially. The Studio 54 vibes and the glam rock influences are clear and a lot of these pieces could definitely make it into Lady Gaga’s AHS Hotel wardrobe which is a compliment of the highest order, so there ya go. Plus, if a collection IS gonna be presented through stills, a format like this is preferable to some of the others I’m gonna talk about. There may be more exciting ways of doing it but simple allows us to see the clothes properly and at the end of the day, that’s what I care about the most!

Heading back to good ole’ RTW, we have Altuzarra; I wasn’t hugely keen on their last collection but this is definitely a step up for me and justifies keeping them on my radar. Though in some ways this seems like less of a summer collection and more of a late winter/early spring transitional one on the basis it can’t seem to decide which temperature its catering to, there’s a lot to like: a colour palette that reminds me of a Dion Lee collection, harnesses evocative of those sprinkled throughout the last few Alexander McQueen shows, and more of the utility wear trend that I’m still very much into nicely contrasted against lighter, airier pieces for an overall fresh, modern vibe. The interpretive dancewear style pieces are interesting and the woven platform sandals are the shoe of the summer but the white shirt with the cape incorporated is definitely the high point of this show and I absolutely adore it.

Anna Sui was actually pretty cute this time round. Her pieces have always been kooky, but in the past a little too lairy and occasionally cheap-looking for me. This collection, however, is kooky in more of a Melanie Martinez styled baby doll kinda way, as opposed to in an eccentric Bjork loving aunt whose idea of heaven is an all-must-go Primark sale kinda way (I know some people are going to vehemently disagree with my aesthetic preference there) and I love that. There seems to be a lot more creative direction going on, a much clearer vision of what Sui wanted to achieve, and yes a few of the looks went a bit too hard on the cookie cutter vibes but on the whole, they were more edited than usual; it seems Sui actually paid attention to the “take one thing off before you leave the house” rule this time. The staging is the perfect compliment to the doily style bucket hats and the sandals paired with frilly socks, and really adds to the whimsy of the collection, and as a whole, it really reminds me a lot of the way my mum would dress me as a toddler but styled up for a grown adult. Cute AF.

Armani RTW I was pleasantly surprised by, considering I don’t usually rate it. It’s a cool, androgynous take on retro shapes and styles that’s simultaneously fit for the hustle and bustle of the modern world. Strong 2021 Peggy Olsen vibes, and a bit muted Lacoste-I can 100% imagine Elisabeth Moss as Peggy swanning around in one of those huge minimalist houses with the floor to ceiling windows after a long day at work, though we’ll switch the cigarette for a vape because...you know...welcome to the future. And sure, maybe the vision is slightly influenced by THAT scene from Us, but whatever. As for the men’s wear, if I have to look through an endless gallery of straight white men in plain ass suits every time I do some kind of red carpet fashion review, I at least hope they’re wearing Armani. I need me some impeccable tailoring to soften the blow.

I do wonder, however, how the clothes would look on plus size models. I feel like it’s a collection that’s very catered to a person who is straight up and down, and it feels like a bit of an easy cop out not to have any kind of versatility. Say what you want about Christian Siriano but he caters to all body types very well.

I actually quite liked Armani’s haute couture collection too; the pops of colour and the intricate embroidery give me what I’ll later talk about missing from Valentino haute couture. There were still some of the frumpier pieces that I usually associate Armani with but also a lot of Great Gatsby-esque looks that I really enjoyed.

Returning to RTW, Ashish was amazing. I LOVE that there’s always some kind of unique print (this time round, kitschy illustrations) and whilst a whole maxi swan print dress may not be the most wearable for the majority of us, Ashish Gupta does bold and innovative really well. There were a few boring striped pieces in there but I adore the one shouldered butterfly print dress and I NEED that Hail Satan jumper; it reminds me a lot of something by sustainable fashion brand Minga, which is one of my absolute fave websites to buy from when I’m treating myself to some new clothes.

Azarro’s haute couture collection is full of supreme awards show afterparty fits, and I was shook to find out that Olivier Theyskens is the brand’s creative director! My newfound obsession with his pieces really had me like :O when I realised he was behind Azarro too. I loved their collection last time round, though this I’m finding a bit harder to give much analysis on because of the way it’s shot; whilst it could be a YSL perfume Vogue ad, which is obviously far from a bad thing, it comes at the cost of lacking visual clarity. That being said, from what I can see, Theyskens once again masterfully channels the wardrobe of the effortlessly cool, messy haired, smudged eye make up rock ‘n roll girl, and I think that’s someone we all want to be.

Balenciaga RTW was an interesting one for me-on first inspection, I was kinda disappointed. Without the usual drama of the bold, exaggerated silhouettes and the theatrical production of their shows, I felt it was missing a bit of the magic I’ve come to expect from them. The streetwear elements infused throughout, a departure from their typical pieces, was very hit and miss; the shearling slip-ons in particular were not my thing at all. I’d be admiring some beautiful gothic dress and then my eyes would slide down and see those monstrosities and it would bring the whole thing down a notch or two, despite bad shoes being something I can typically overlook if I otherwise enjoy the rest of the outfit. My initial conclusion: that the Balenciaga Myrtle Snow would choose as her last words this collection.

However, upon re-evaluation when typing this post up properly and knowing what to expect, I like the collection a lot. I’m getting a bit of a Seoul streetwear vibe from it, and I can appreciate that although it is a lot more trend focussed, it’s got an edgy, daring quality to it, with a lot of androgynous, utility wear elements on show. I loveee the Balenciaga chokers too and in my wildest dreams would get my hands on one before it goes the way of the Gucci belt and gets overdone and flaunted by social media influencers as a show of wealth to the point of tackiness.

At Balmain the sculpted body armour made a comeback but on this occasion, not in a way that I liked, and there war far too many neons for my taste too. No matter how many times it rears its ugly head, I find it hard to get on board because as a colour palette I can’t help but associate with Claire’s Accessories circa 2007-it has to be SO well done to avoid looking cheap, imo, and these Balmain pieces weren’t good enough for me to go against that gut aversion. A collection with 100+ looks isn’t usually a good sign and expecting Olivier Rousteing to achieve the impossible and manage to do both quality and quantity is a recipe for disaster; it’s a shame because his last collection was so original and yet this one feels like a cheaper looking rip off of other brands. It was just a bawdy display of 80s overkill IMO and if I can only find 8 outfits to include out of 100 that’s clearly not a good sign.

Bottega Veneta is a brand that the high fashion side of the internet loves that I can never 100% get on board with; I get it, they’re behind the gorgeous square toed heels, but other than that none of their collections have ever really wowed me. The chunky knitted pieces are very Miu Miu style futuristic grandma chic and as someone on the cusp of being either a millennial or gen Z (depending on which website you visit) it’s got me outfit planning for my retirement years. Utilising so much wool for a summer collection, however, seems like a choice because can you IMAGINE wearing a heavy knit in blazing sun; I almost didn’t include the collection to be honest but then every so often something really cute came long, and one of the signature crisp, classic BV pieces would be done well and so I felt I had to. Am I missing something given all the hype here? IDK tbh.

Burberry? Meh. You could also call this collection how many ways can I do a trench coat, with results of differing quality; occasionally the mix match of styles worked and I saw the deconstructed outerwear concept that Ricardo Tisci was presumably trying to go for, though it can’t come as much of a surprise that the combination of a trench, denim and leather jacket was mostly just messy and came off as a last ditch attempt to make the classic coat more interesting by just chucking other fabrics at it and seeing what stuck.

One thing I will say is that there were some really sick prints going on-the snakes in particular-and it was those prints that were really the saving grace of the collection; as I said with regards to Ashish, I like it when you can tell a brand has gone out of their way to experiment with patterns and actually incorporate illustration and graphic design into their pieces. Prints notwithstanding, though, it wasn’t a memorable collection and I really can’t wait for the day we put this whole multiple denim jean waistband trend to bed once and for all; in the wise words of Regina George “stop drying to make multiple waist bands happen. They’re not going to happen.”.

Carolina Herrera was just as I expected. Whilst Wes Gordon was a little more daring with the structure of the pieces than usual, you can still he’s still committed to designing for the wealthy, modestly dressed socialite (yes I’m talking about Tinsley Mortimer and yes, I have recently become obsessed with Real Housewives) and her insatiable need to collect more charity gala gowns than she’ll ever possibly have opportunities to wear in her time on this earth. Sounds like a great life, sure, but it’s not like it gets my heart racing when I see the looks on the runway. The most memorable piece for sure was double breasted blazer w the asymmetric ruffle; I haven’t seen anything like it in a RTW collection in recent memory.

Now onto the fucking train wreck that was Celine RTW.

It’s not even bad for a runway fashion show, it’s just like…straight-up bad. Like Hedi Slimane went back in time to 2013, took a bunch of models into my local Topshop (and I have to clarify my local Topshop rather than the flagship Oxford Circus store-RIP-because to do the same in the latter would produce far better results), picked up some cheap basics, switched the lights off, and then, finally, dressed them in the dark. There’s very few positive comments I can make so I’m just going to move on.

Chanel RTW I actually didn’t hate as much this season; maybe it’s because coming from Celine, my standards are like, on the floor, but it’s slightly better than usual. Whilst most of it was same old same old, the opening 10 or so looks and then from 40 onwards were alright. The colour contrast pieces were classic Chanel in a good way, that is to say somewhat modernised and appealing to a younger clientele as opposed to the elderly women who still see a boucle jacket as the height of fashion. The mini chiffon capes were also cute, and if it weren’t for COVID putting pause on everything I can see the Chanel headband being duped ad infinitum.

The worst part of the collection was without a doubt the pieces with the neon logo print, which I wish I could erase from my mind. At this point, with Virginie Viard seemingly refusing to make any attempt to reinvent the brand, Chanel is best when it’s subtle; that way it appeals to those regular customers who rely on the prestige of the garment and the new generation of consumers who are further branching out into experimenting with their personal style and want a quality base. But who I ask are these tacky ass pieces aimed at? Because though it appears to be an attempt to infuse a kind of youthful spirit into Chanel, it is very out of touch with what gen Z actually like, and I can’t imagine any rich old white ladies buying them either. Big shoulder shrug.

Whilst I tend to find Chanel’s haute couture collections a bit better than their RTW, this is probably on par. Still rather meh and frumpy at times, but there were some pretty, whimsical pieces in there that were definitely elevated by the staging which, I must say, was very dreamy. I’ve enjoyed the last couple of haute couture shows a lot more (the one with the library set was v cool), which were comparatively restrained with the frivolous details and the chintz, so this seems a step back. The dresses with the 50s Audrey Hepburn for Miss Dior style silhouette are lovely but obviously, as per the reference, nothing new.

Onto something much more exciting, we have Charlotte Knowles’ RTW collection, whose work has made her one to watch. I’m not as huge a fan of this as her last instalment, but Knowles’ (who I recently found out only just graduated from Central Saint Martins, making her achievements all the more impressive) continues to create clothes for a girl far cooler than myself; I know, that wouldn’t be hard, but we’re talking like, miles cooler. One of those women who can literally pull anything off and immediately make you want to try it yourself even though 9 times out of 10 that would be a bad idea-I could probably take, like, one piece and make it work but anything more would most likely just be me embarrassing myself. You wouldn’t think San Fransisco psychedelic summer of love motifs would mesh with futuristic Mad Max style biker vibes but Charlotte and her partner Alexandre Arsenault make it sexy AF, like a combo that was always meant to be. They are a dream team.

And lastly for this post, we have another collection I really liked: Chloe. Sadly Natacha Ramsay-Levi’s last collection for the brand, she truly went out on a high note, with a reliably gorgeous iteration of her sophisticated take on bohemian style. Who now, will we look to when we want to cosplay as one of the Jessas from Girls of the world? When we want to pretend we’re a rich, party girl socialite backpacking across Western Europe (along the foothills of Mount Tibidabo…) on a commissioned trip to “find herself” for the fashion magazine column she’s writing, whilst we’re actually on a budget family holiday in Spain? When we can’t decide if we’re dressing like a modern day Rachel Green or Phoebe Buffay and say fuck it, I’m gonna do both? I mean sure, I could never afford Chloe anyway and sure, I’m interested to see what Gabriela Hearst can do with the brand, which despite its loveliness is quite predictable, but it’s definitely sad to see Ramsay-Levi go when she has become a reliable source of elegance and class each season. She brings a quietly confident brand of femininity to the fashion world where the high profile design houses are increasingly dominated by men who are sometimes too focussed on being bold and brash enough to be hailed as the newest design visionary, and I have huge respect for that. She will be missed.

Now it feels right to end the post here, given that I just finished with a kind of dramatic memoriam for a woman who is very much still alive and given that I would really be playing with fire by trying to push Tumblr’s edit post feature any further, so I’ll wrap it up for now. In part 2, which will hopefully be out over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be looking at a surprisingly strong haute couture collection from (can’t believe I’m about to say this) Maria Grazia as well as some of my faves, Etro, Dion Lee, Gucci, and of course Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture. In the meantime, I’m hoping to get a post out on my favourite sustainable clothing brands and to shoot my take on the “what I would wear sat front row at X” video trend that’s been going around lately on TikTok and Instagram reels, which I know I am kinda late to the party with.

I’m also looking at starting “photo dump” posts where I basically just substitute what I would be putting on my Instagram feed as photo posts on here, all the way back to when I first started my fashion Instagram account. I know this is hardly a hot take, but Instagram has really gone to shit, and once I’ve moved all my photos from there to here, I’m probably going to be deleting my account and just keep my private personal one. I’m sick of the endless scrolling past photos of people edited to the point of being unrecognisable and of seeing faces that all conform to that exact same Eurocentric beauty standard with the exact same surgical procedures to the point that even I, as a thin, white cis girl feel disgusting (so god knows how others without my privilege feel) because I don’t have a fucking fox eye lift or whatever it is that internet famous surgeons are telling us we need for our faces to fit the “golden ratio” at the moment. I am OVERRR all the promoted posts from people who preach social awareness and equality and authenticity and kindness making money off promoting companies that rely on slave labour rather than those who make me feel uplifted and inspired. And I am VERY MUCH done with scrolling through share for share and like for like pages because I am embarrassed by the fact that my likes don’t match up to my follower count since that must mean that NOBODY LIKES ME AND EVERYONE HATES MY FACE, right!? Even though I’d like to think that mentality was something I grew out of a long time ago. Instagram, much like Facebook before it (which is no surprise since the latter now owns the former), has just become another cesspit of an app which exists solely to convince you to buy new clothes and follow the latest filler trend and blow money on holidays you can’t afford to convince everyone you’re living the good life. Like many others, I have finally come to the conclusion that the way Instagram operates now is nothing but detrimental to my wellbeing. So, all that being said, I’m moving my feed over here, to a place where I can just arrange my silly little photos into silly little collages and not care if I’m shouting into the void by doing so because they’re just a screenshot of my life that I can look back on in however many years time and think Oh, Cool! That’s What I Was Interested In Back Then! That Outfit is Timeless! Or That One Was a HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE! Because I do love the creative element of Instagram, turning your feed into a collage, picking out which colours compliment each other, posting your favourite art and your outfits and the makeup looks you’re proud of, the beautiful sights you’ve seen-I just hate how unbridled capitalism and unrealistic social expectations have once again destroyed a good thing, and caused it to stray so far from its original vision of connecting people. Here, I don’t care if I get 0 interactions on those kinds of posts, because I am putting stuff out there I am proud of that expresses who I am and that interests me, and when I put a lot of hard ass work into something that’s actually important or that benefits others in some way as opposed to indulging my own vanity, it does get some circulation and I hope that it does make a positive difference, regardless of how small. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much seeing my initial photo dump posts on their dashboard as I try and catch up to where I am now; you’ll probs see a mini influx of 2015 fashion and I’m sorry about that! But I don’t *think* it will be too long until I’m up to date and then the photo dump posts will be much less regular.

Anyway, sorry about the Instagram rant there at the end! If you read all the way til the end, this is a huuuuge thank you! I hope you enjoyed the post and I will get the next one out ASAP, potentially with a few posts in between. As always, feel free to inbox me if there’s anything you wanted to talk about or suggest and make sure you stay safe. There may finally be some light at the end of the tunnel:D

With a cautious dose of optimism, and the acknowledgement that I will most likely regret saying this: bring on June the 21st UK gals!

Lauren x

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 3 years

Text

12. On Your Side

Decided to publish what I had worked on before my hiatus, mainly for Tina and nem, as a Xmas thing. Ion celebrate that shit, happy holidays or whatever. I was hoping to have completed the story by now, but with my break for mental health, I guess it's either pushed back or gonna be abandoned. Will know in a couple of weeks or so what, if anything I intend to do with it. Its an Apex centered chapter. I'm still on hiatus. You can leave a review if you want to, but don't message me about Simon or this story. Thanks.

*The Grace St. Catherine Playlist, featuring songs used in chapter and songs that inspired the chapter*

“Even through the darkest phase

Be it thick or thin

Always someone marches brave

Here beneath my skin…” Grace let the music play in the background as she tried to do all of the things suggested to her by her “spiritual advisor,” Sunny, whenever she moved into the place. She was doing more drawing - mostly sketches of carnage and rage. She was journaling a lot, mostly in the form of a narrative told by a hypothetical fictional character, because admitting to the things that she was doing on paper was a huge no-no, so she simply projected her life through her journaling character, The Saint, whom would never be referred to by name in any of the entries. In this particular one, The Saint was contemplating calling The Shadow. What would the conversation even be like? He would tell her how bad she was for being mad at him. She would tell him that she only hurt bad people, but he hurt a friend… he hurt her. That was different. So different. But she MISSED him.

She had began to sketch him. She was more of a doodler/drew cartoons and comics on her phone and stuff… but she was shut up in this place for hours at a time and hadn’t really used a pencil and a sketch book seriously in a while. Then, it got away from her. After a few days, she had almost filled up a sketch book with drawings of Simon. She winced when she thought of his name. She had been avoiding speaking it and thinking it. “And constant craving has always been…” She stared at the phone, then changed the track. The last thing she needed was to think about craving, of all things…

Now, that the phone was in her hand, she glanced around, feeling that paranoia that she had since she left home. Nobody was watching her here, but she felt obligated to check, anyway, and upon verifying what she already knew - that nobody was fucking watching her - she went to visit his social media. Private? Since when? She checked another. Same thing. A third, same fucking thing! “UGH!!!” She threw her phone onto the couch and went to go chop wood. She didn’t really like to chop wood, but it did make her feel better to swing a tool and see destruction come out of it.

“Old wounds

Old fights

Another day goes by

I'm not playing by the rules

They can't take me for no fool…” Her phone continued singing as she went outside.

Jalicia Barrett was not the same type of watch as Grace was. She obviously wasn’t as upscale as Grace, so she wound up having much to do that was necessary, unlike Grace’s schedule of playing a typical woman. Now, to say that Jalicia was typical would be a stretch of the imagination, as Simon knew that none of Grace’s people were that and she had possibly an unreasonable amount of tiger items, but she was closer to an average person than Grace was.

She went to Seattle University, but hadn't selected a major. She was still doing general studies after taking a few years to get her GED (She began trying at 16 and only successfully received it less than a year ago), so.. a freshman in college, which wasn't bad. She was 19. She worked on campus and seemed to have other odd jobs, like being a delivery driver or personal cab, and stuff at that Infinity Foundation place.

She didn’t have rich parents. From what Simon was able to find, she was never reunited with them, whoever they were. If they had lived in Seattle when she was taken, there was nothing on file to indicate that she was reported missing. Of course… he didn’t know what her real name was. The name Jalicia Barrett only became a name for her in the year after Grace left the mental institution. He knew that was likely connected.

Maybe… she wound up in the system after Grace touched base with them? At any rate… whoever the girl who was brought into trafficking had been, she was now Jalicia Barrett, a girl who began existing when she was 13 or 14 and obviously probably didn’t know her DOB either, as it was on record as the day that her name was given, her documents were created all around the same time, so she had to either have been a baby whenever she was taken, or simply never knew her personal information like birth date and full name.

BUT, she did have prints on file, so she probably had birth records that could be matched to them somewhere. He didn’t know if he wanted to get into that… or if she hadn’t done so herself and simply decided that life was easier being the person that she knew herself to be now. He certainly couldn’t imagine separating from his loved ones and then not finding them for a decade or so and then just… trying to pretend that they were family after all or something. She had the family she wanted… Well… she lost one. He felt bad for her. It wasn’t the same, but whenever he lost Grace, he felt like his world collapsed. To even pretend to understand how this woman must feel losing her life partner after years of being together, he wouldn’t insult her like that. Instead, he looked into the details surrounding that. Whatever happened to that investigation?

He’d provided an alibi for them and the police never spoke with him again. He’d done his best playing ignorant and pretending that everything was casual. Whenever they asked him about Heath, he said that he didn’t know Heath. “I’ve only met him once and he didn’t show up to the gathering… Is he alright?” They didn’t answer, just wished him a good day.

Now, he was looking through their paperwork and he was sure that he might find something interesting, if not useful. Simon had no idea what he was looking for with these other people. Something that led him back to Grace’s trail, and he had to figure out how they worked to even presume that…

Here’s the thing… Simon wasn’t going to write himself off as wrong or going too far. For crying out loud, the things that these people did, and they felt justified in their reasonings, so he wasn’t going to allow himself to feel bad. Grace might need him, and Xander was keeping her away from him. He cursed himself over that gun, though. However, IF she would have just let him explain that he only had it to keep Xander from getting it! He didn’t know what to think when he holstered it, but it wasn’t for her! Why would he hurt her? He scanned through paperwork, trying to take his mind off of Grace’s lack of faith in him and then, he was sure that he found what he needed. If not; he’d found something interesting. “Huh.”

Grace called Sunny for more tips. She was doing everything that she told her to, and reading all these books and articles, ordering all sorts of holistic woo woo shit, and trying SO HARD just to not lose it out there… Sunny was always a mood lifter for her though. They would talk for however long, laugh, joke, sometimes get entirely too serious and cry… they hadn’t done this in a long time, but Grace had been calling her more frequently lately and, well… it was necessary for her to be available.

“It’s like… I don’t want to use this word lightly, and I especially can’t tell Xan, but I feel like I’m like… addicted… Does that sound stupid?”

“Xander doesn’t own the word addicted, Grace. He’s struggled with a few drugs over the years, but one of the reasons is because he’s sick. Some people can try things and never really become addicted to them because those things didn’t appeal to them in that way. This dude appealed to you in a way that your body wasn’t used to. He got into your mind, and most likely changed the chemical balance. Affected your hormones and shit, only to find that he wasn’t what you thought and now your chemicals gotta try to balance back out without his influence, so no, it doesn’t sound stupid. Perhaps melodramatic, but I don’t know. You could be addicted to the way that he made you feel. Going through dick withdrawals is a struggle that people don’t give enough credence, too.”

Grace snorted. “I’m… not… going through that. We weren’t like that. I don’t even know if he ever was into me that way? It was like… I don’t know… I never got the feeling that he desired me physically.”

“What feeling did you get?”

“For the most part, that he wanted me around. I don’t know why. He never seemed to be asking anything of me but to let him be near me. He was very good about not entering my personal space, and even when I got comfortable, he still never made any move on me or anything like that. He just seemed to like to be… present.”

“Okay, but what would he be doing when he was present?”

“Sometimes nothing, really. Just looking at me, or listening to me. Sometimes, we were doing our own thing - me reading a book. Him playing video games or writing, or… Idk, working on a cosplay outfit.”

“Girl, on what?”

“He’s a fantasy fanboy before he’s a fantasy writer, so he you know… makes cosplay costumes and stuff for conventions. Whenever he’s not scheduled to be on a panel at one… This is something that I’ve observed, not something that he’s said. He… doesn’t talk about himself a lot. Not at all, come to think about it.”

“Xander makes him out to be a literal serial killer.”

“Xander hates him. What about 808? What does she say? Xan seems to think that he “got to her” or played some kind of mind games or something?”

“Well… she didn’t say anything to me about him, except that he was very talkative and apparently worships you. She was pretty thrown off guard at how comfortable he seemed with being caught and held hostage. She said that he is either the most nonchalant person ever or the craziest fucking person that she’s ever drawn a weapon on, because he acted like they were buddies just chitchatting, and we all know that he knows what we do to people.” Grace didn’t reply. Sunny offered, “Well, whenever I think about the shit that I went through with Xander and how we always seem to find each other in the dark, it's usually in terms of No Angel.”

Grace said, “Beyonce’s No Angel?”

“”Is… Is there another one? Because, if there’s anything AND a Beyonce song, just go ahead and assume that I am only speaking of the Beyonce option.” Grace laughed. Sunny recited, “ I love you even more than who I thought you were before.” Grace held her breath, unsure of what to say to this. Sunny continued, “All I mean to say is that sometimes people aren’t who we initially thought. Sometimes they’re worse. Sometimes they are seriously fucked up. Sometimes, they’re absolute trash… But… you might still love their ass.”

“Damn, Sis… Is this how you feel about Xan? Because those are some hard descriptions.”

“No. Xander is definitely a hot mess, but I was absolutely describing your… thing… over there. Jimony?”

“Simon,” Grace said, trying not to laugh.

“Right. I knew it had “mon” in it.”

Jalicia didn’t know what it was about that station that made her put it on all of the time, but her streaming service generally stayed on an old r&b from the 60s and 70s station, and sometimes 80s and 90s, whenever she was at work. She had a journal with a tiger on the front that she was writing down poetry in, but she could never think of titles for any of her work, and she didn’t feel like she was that artistically creative, so she’d title everything, “(Song Title) Plays in the Background,” whether or not the song had any bearing on the poem. Today’s? Let’s Groove Plays in the Background.

Work was a little bit overwhelming, these days, but only because of the things that had nothing to do with it. The fact that she wouldn’t just receive flowers sometimes and have her coworkers wonder why her boyfriend was this thoughtful, but they never saw him. Or the days where she would pout about being broke and having to pack a stupid sandwich and he would insist on having something sent to her at lunchtime, if he didn’t just make her a different, more fulfilling lunch instead. The way that she would get a text whenever he went on his own lunch break, and it would just be some hilarious video or a new thing that they just HAD to buy. Work was overwhelming, because what she had leaned on every shift was the fact that he’d interrupt it with something nice and that she would leave there and get to see him every day.

Now, she was listening to Earth Wind & Fire, in a gray pantsuit and fooling around on her computer while she waited for something to do. She heard the tone of the doorway and she got up to see if somebody needed help. It was a college bookstore and she was often far overdressed, but all she had aside from her typical attire were the pantsuits she wore when she had to do something other than be casual - like functions and interviews or whatever, so that was what she wore to work.

The O. He looked at her like they were friends or something. A polite smile and warmth in his eyes. She stared him down and reached for her phone. “Hi. Can I just have a moment?” He asked. She texted: The O is here and hit “send” to 747. “It won’t take long, I just wanted to give you something.” The O reached into his bag and Jalicia had already identified four common objects in her immediate surroundings that she would definitely use as a weapon against him if he tried something slick. He handed her an envelope, one of the big yellow ones and she frowned.

“I’m not taking whatever that is. For all I know it’s got anthrax in it.”

He laughed and opened it himself, pulled out the paperwork and handed it to her. “I figured out a better method of tracking people down than Heath had the resources for. I know that Xander is trying his hardest, God help him, but he’s not much on a computer and some of these things are hard to find.” She took the pages and glanced through them. Simon helped her find a certain page, “I’ve guessed that you maybe didn’t know much about this part of the situation that you all walked into. The… X, I suppose you’d call him, was very paranoid that he might be on your list and he hired protection.” He pointed out a few key lines that he had highlighted. “Professional protection, and yet when the time came to protect him, Heath wasn’t shot in the arm, or hell, if they didn’t want him to escape, the leg is an option as well.”

“They killed Heath on purpose,” She said, the wind knocked out of her as she did. She tried to take a seat, but just fell back onto a table and leaned against it, knocking down several books.

“They wanted to send a message and since you all slacked up since then, I’m sure that they think that they did.” She started crying angrily and wiped her face. “Flip to the next page.” Her hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure of what she might see, but she flipped to the next page anyway. “That’s your shooter. Since he was on the job, he confessed to being the one who fired and because Heath was breaking an entering and had no family to intercede for an investigation… the cops seem to be fine with what happened to him, despite the fact that our laws state that a person may not use more force than is necessary given the situation.” She shut her eyes and squeezed out tears, her fists tightly holding onto the phot0 of the man. “Next page are his personal details. Do with it whatever you think is best. I just thought that you would want to know.”

She shivered and cried, “This doesn’t mean that I owe you anything. I didn’t ask you for this and I don’t feel indebted to you for it.”

“Jalicia… I’m on your side. Whatever side Grace is on, that’s where I am. I did this because I want to help.”

“Well… This is the most help you’re getting from me - Xander’s on his way.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way.” He had that polite smile again and she was almost terrified how easily it came to him. He left quite a few minutes before Xander arrived.

She instantly fell apart as soon as she saw him, handing him the papers and explaining to him what he was looking at. She left work and was going to call Grace, but Xander snatched her phone while he was driving. “No, what if he. like, cloned your phone or something?”

“What? This ain’t Person of Interest, Boy. What the fuck are you talking about, Bro? He’s rich but it’s not like he’s Lex Luthor.”

“We can’t chance it. He’d do anything to find out where she is.”

“Give me yours, then.”

“Just hold off. I need to check this dude out. For all we know, Simon is just blowing smoke up our asses to get us to lead him to Grace.”

“The fact that you think it’s more likely that he falsified a bunch of police documents than that he simply sneaked them away is making me wonder about you .”

“I let him get too close to her before, and I’m not doing that again.”

Jalicia snatched her phone back from him and they wrestled for it but, he eventually heard Grace on speaker.

“What is happening on that end?” She asked, laughing a little bit nervously.

“We need to talk about Simon,” Jalicia said.

“I disagree with that sentiment!” Xander said in the background.

There was a pause. Grace was panicking a little bit. Did they know that she was trying to check his pages? That she was trying to see if she could make a temporary account just to try to get to them? How would they know that, Girl?

Jalicia added, “It’s about Heath.” Xander turned red in the face and he shook his head and tried to breathe. “Oh, fuck you, Xan. You left him there to die. The least you could do is chill out while I speak to Grace about this.”

“Whoa… That’s not extremely fair. The Apex protocol is that if somebody is hit, we leave and regroup. We go in with the expectation that if we’re hit, we would slow everyone down and jeopardize everything. So, Xander and I both left him,” Grace said the last statement laced with sadness and guilt.

“He pulled you out and sped away,” Jalicia said.

Xander scoffed and then burst into tears, “I’m glad that you’re telling us how you really feel.” His voice was surprisingly calm, but the ladies knew that hurt him more than anything ever had in this world.

“Tell me what you need to say,” Grace said.

“Simon found Heath’s killer.”

“Simon found a person he alleges is Heath’s killer.”

“He had all of the paperwork to corroborate it. More than Heath has ever collected on any X.”

“He had paperwork on a man who works in security who may have shot Heath dead, but as far as we know is not a bad person. He probably was just on a security job. Somebody broke into the house he was guarding and he shot!”

“WHY DID HE SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD???” Jalicia squealed. “I’ve been over this myself, before Simon EVER said anything about it, but WHY didn’t they shoot him to survive and answer questions about what is one of the most infamous string of serial murders to ever hit the city? Why would he risk his job to kill someone that way in security, if there wasn’t a reason that Heath needed to be dead?”

“You… you think that the security dude is old Apex?”

“I think that at best, the security dude wanted to kill a person that he didn’t HAVE to kill and he used Heath as a perfect excuse, making him a shitty person, in my opinion, and at worst, he didn’t want us saying anything to anybody, because he knew why we were there!”

“But, we did release what we had on the X. The information is out there now. Nothing was done about it,” Grace added.

“Precisely! Just as nothing was done about this trigger happy buttfuck, even though our laws state that you’re not supposed to kill motherfuckers if you don’t have to!” Jalicia said. She looked at Xander, poked him in the arm and reminded him, “You were the first one to claim you’ll avenge him”

“And you told me to go fuck myself.”

“Emotions were definitely running high, but if you’re looking for the chance to make good on your word, you’ll have to suck it up and just live with the fact that Simon gave us this, like I have to live with the fact that Heath is never fucking coming home!” She got louder than she intended. Xander wiped his tears with the back of his hand, but more just poured out. He nodded, but he was still extremely upset.

“Send me what Simon sent you. I’ll let you know what I decide from there.”

“Thank you, Grace.”

Grace sighed, paused, then said, “Heath would have wanted us to get out, but even if you had driven away and left us all, we wouldn’t have faulted you… That’s the protocol. Heath knew that…”

“Does that make it easier for you?”

“No. But, we shouldn’t make it harder on each other, either…” Jalicia sighed, rolled her eyes and let more tears fall. “I’m sorry, Jalicia. Heath was the first person in the warehouse that I ever cared about. I would trade myself for him, if I could.”

“He’d never let you,” she hung up and reached out for Xander. He accepted her hand. “I was mean to you…”

“You were honest. It just fucking hurts. Heath was the backbone of this family, and everyday he isn’t here, I lose more and more respect and control. He kept me grounded.”

“Doesn’t Sunny do that too?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Maybe you don’t let it be. Maybe the reason Heath was your rock was because you thought that you only needed one. That’s what I did, too. I didn’t even realize how much of my life revolved around him until I was just spinning in space, with nothing to pull me back. Why do you think I moved in with your ass?”

“To split rent.”

She gave a resigned shrug, but shook her head, “I thought that it would make things better, if even just to put me in a spot where I could just not think about it and not be alone. I figured I wouldn’t get over it, but that at least I would logically be able to grant myself some peace because you’re there too, and that there would be some type of comfort. Not emotionally. That’s gonna take more time than I even believe that I have left in this world. But… at least I wanted that solid ground to stand on, to be able to say, Heath would want his two favorite people to lean on each other and find some strength in his absence.” Xander sniffled. She finished, “But it didn’t matter, and I don’t even know what to do, because I thought that being around you would guarantee some balance, even if it didn’t truly help… I still have all of my grief, and I’m..” she whimpered, “So tired. And empty. And distant. My closest living friend is sitting right next to me, and I have been so alone…”

Xander pulled the van over, unlatched his seatbelt and hugged her. She wasn’t done. She was so focused on her train of thought that she hadn’t even actually noticed that Xander was hugging her. “Heath was always in my life. Before any other human that I can remember. Like, logically, I know that Grace took care of Todd and Heath took care of me… but… I don’t even remember anybody else until maybe I was 5 or 6. I know he wasn’t the only person around, but in my mind, he was. I have NO frame of reference that doesn’t involve him. He was…” She finally realized both that Xander was already holding her and that she was crying again.

She remembered something. She was 4 or 5, her brain was never good at that part. She wasn’t in school or anything. All of her special days were simply moments and occurrences. This particular occurrence. A boy with light hair, getting hurt really bad by the stewards. Heath covered her eyes and started talking about flowers. He found a new book about them. He’d help her try to read later. The noise of the boy being beaten up was in the background, but at the time, she was too young to pay any attention to it and listen to Heath. So, she listened to Heath and the beating was background noise filtered out. Afterwards, he took her to the side of the building and let her pick flowers for their new friend. The new boy was mean. He was mean to Heath and Grace had to help Heath. Then, he was nice. She looked at Xander’s face and saw that same boy, just as hurt and just as angry as the first day she recalled a memory of him.

“He wasn’t always in mine… but he was the first person who was ever just nice to me for no reason other than to be nice,” Xander said. “There’s nothing that I want more than to punish a person who would take him away from us, but to have Simon, SIMON, give us that…” He was red in the face and shaking his head. “He’s using it to get to Grace, and I just didn’t want to give him that kind of power.”

“Then why didn’t you just say, ‘Hey, lets not tell her where we got the information?’ If you had just sent it to her with X confirmed, instead of fighting me in traffic…”

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

“I just… This ONE thing, then maybe I can move on.” He nodded and buckled back in. “I’ll get to work on the logistics. In case Grace gives us the go ahead, I want to be ready to move as soon as possible.”

Simon pulled his hair up into a high ponytail. He was going to try to get it into a bun, but it had been getting longer and thicker, and while he’d normally just pull the top part into a pony and let the rest hang, but it was windy and he was going to be pretty active, so high ponytail, it was. He had been checking out the X that he gave Jalicia, to see if they were going to make a move on him. He wasn’t positive of the typical turnaround time on an X, so he simply went to watch every night. He wasn’t going to do the car. Dude was in security. He’d probably make him.

Instead, he parked around the block and went to a big tree across the street from the X’s home to post up. He had binoculars and an awkwardly applied hunting tree seat. It wasn’t made for him to be up this high, but he situated it only to have a seat that wasn’t tree bark. He spent the time that he wasn’t watching the house on social media, checking out Sunetra’s pages… which… apparently she went by “Sunny…” which… Simon noted to himself that he had seen a little sun tattoo on Xander, and whenever he came across Sunny’s very tasteful artistic nudes, he saw that she had a little tattoo, as well, on her chest, of an “X.”

Her photos were really nice and she seemed to… possibly be a stripper? He checked a few of her posts and captions. She hashtagged #burlesque in some of them, so maybe not a stripper, but something risque. She was in the fine arts program in college, for dance and had many posts from the Infinity Foundation of her doing dance workshops, yoga, and stuff. She had a lot of witchy posts, too. Simon rolled his eyes, but kept scrolling. Several of her posts were really funny. He noticed a yoga and meditation program that she would be doing at a community center and saved the post.

He watched the X for about a week and a half when he saw the van pull up. In the dark, he couldn’t tell who people were, but two had gotten out and through the binoculars, he could tell that Xander was one and the other was Jalicia. He checked the van. That was an unfamiliar one behind the wheel, but he presumed that it was Sunny or 808, and that he simply couldn’t see them... There was a loud noise and screaming in the house. He turned to see that Jalicia had a knife to a woman’s throat while Xander was escorting the X out, with his hands up. He got him to the van, injected something into his neck and tossed him in. Jalicia unhanded the woman, but appeared to take a bag along with her and the woman ran next door.

Jalicia had taken all the phones with her. The woman had to run next door to call the police. Simon realized that she was probably doing that, and he got out of the tree to get back to his car. If he hurried, he might be able to catch the van!

He went the direction that they had, and when he came to what he thought might be them, he put on a mask of his own, but it was a medical mask, just because that was… possibly not as weird as if he wore like a clown mask or something. They had NOT handled that in the way that he expected. Something told him that they either were rushing or desperate. He wondered why.

But, whenever they pulled the van into an old train station, he parked behind the building and got out of his car. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.

He could hear their voices, and he followed the sound of them, but didn’t come from the shadows of the building. They were dragging the bag into a field that Simon knew that he had passed several times in his life, but never paid much attention to. Nobody really did. Was this where they buried them? He wondered. He only saw Jalicia and Xander, pulling the body bag with one hand and carrying shovels in their free hands. Where was the driver? He went around the other side of the building and the van was pulling off. Where were THEY going? He couldn’t start his car. Jalicia and Xander weren’t far enough away to not hear him. He groaned and went to look back towards the field. He couldn’t see anything beyond the tall grass, but he used his phone to try to record where they were… maybe he could find it in the daytime. Besides, they were now far enough away that he could start his car without alerting him. He felt like he had enough.

Simon drove home, wary of a van behind him for a portion of the way. He took some loops and turnarounds that he wouldn’t usually take before he was comfortable that they weren’t following him and it wasn’t the van… but after he got home, he noticed at the bottom of the hill a van, and it looked like the van that they used. It looked like the van that he was nervous might be following him. But. There was no way that the van had found him after those turns. Was it one of them, just letting him know that they knew he had followed them?

He rushed inside and looked out of the curtains. They were there for a moment. They turned the van off and he took a deep gulp and reached for one of his guns. They got out of the van and stood, staring up at the house. DEFINITELY APEX. This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.

They stared, wearing a gold mask, a tam hat, and the all black outfit that he had gotten used to, but then not seen for a while. “Grace!” He said. He put his gun down and rushed out of his door. “Grace?” He called, but she rushed back into the van, tossed something out, and peeled off. “Grace…” He ran down the hill and out to the road. She was gone… He looked down to see what she had thrown down on her way off. It was a Stop sign with a red squiggly line underneath the word “Stop.” He picked it up, roared and began to smash it against the pavement, before flinging it into the middle of the road and going back into his house. He called Jalicia and she looked at her phone, not recognizing the number, so she answered it. “Hello?”

“Was that Grace?” a voice asked.

“What?”

“The person who just followed me home and told me to stop. Was that Grace?”

“No,” was all that she said. He hung up. She put her phone away.

“Who’s that?” Xander wondered.

“Non issue,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie, and there was no way that she was about to ruin their night with… whatever that had been about. She and Xander were still digging when their third came walking up, her gold mask on her face and a shovel in hand. “Girl, where did you rush off to?”

“I knew he was gonna still be alive,” she said and pulled up the mask onto her head. Sunny. “Had to make a stop,” she said with a shrug. She and Jalicia stared at each other a moment, and Xander kept digging, oblivious to the exchange of them questioning each other with their eyes. It was short lived, because Grace was connecting for the video call. “Hey, Girl, Hey!” Sunny cheered.

“Bitch, I’m so mad that I’m not there right now.”

“Be mad at Jimona,” Sunny said.

“Simon!” Grace said, laughing. Then, more solemnly, said, “Draw a squiggle right across his face, for me.”

“Sure will,” Sunny said, pulling her knife out. “What are you listening to, Woman?”

Grace checked the info on her streaming, “Hurts by Emeli Sande.”

“That’s dope. Send me the link to that.”

Simon was at the apartment now, crying and sitting in front of the cameras. He wondered if she would return with them, but looking at the feeds he had placed to check the outside of their homes, he noted that the three entered Xander and Jalicia’s home at 3:47 am… and that… wasn’t Grace. It was the woman that he had initially identified as, “One who looks like Grace.” It was Sunny… He flared his nostrils and set an alert to remind him about the yoga and meditation at the community center.

His phone began to ring while it was in his hands. It was a private number. For a moment, he let his heart accelerate. “Hello?” He answered.

Silence. He sighed and almost hung up, but… he felt something. His tears stopped, he sat up erect and waited. She was silent, still. He was afraid to break it, but more afraid of her losing whatever nerve she had at the moment and hanging up. So, he dared to speak. He kept his voice soft and low. Gentle, like he knew she would remember him being. “Hey…” He said. He heard her sniffle and it tore at his heart. “Hey,” he managed to say even softer. “Are you okay?” She sniffled again. “Tell me what I can do to make you okay?”

“Why did you do that, Simon? Why did you?”

“I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to know you. I wanted you… I didn’t know what to do. I was desperate. I am desperate. Please, tell me where you are…”

“You let Xander catch you.” There was the longest pause since the conversation started. Eventually, she spoke again. “I feel like the kids walked in on me doing something dirty…”

“I feel like it’s none of ‘the kids’ damn business what we do.”

“They can’t see stuff like that. They can’t see me being followed and watched, obsessively. They can’t just move on from that. You have no idea the kind of people who… Why did you have a gun?”

“Because, I had just been attacked by somebody that I know is a murderer and I was on edge…” They were quiet again. “I can keep them out of sight from now on. I can keep them away from you, at all times…”

“If I come back into town, my crew is gonna get… difficult. It won’t be safe for you.”

“I can’t prove myself to them? To you? Did you see what I found for them? For Heath? For Jalicia?... For you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Jalicia told me right away…”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” he observed, daring to smile, himself.

“I can’t help it… but… we can’t… do this, Simon.”

“Don’t…”

“We’re both in really weird places and us coming together isn’t good… for either of us, I think…”

“Please…”

“We shouldn’t be together, see each other, anything. You should… get on with your life.”

“No!”

“Bye, Simon.”

“NO!!” She hung up. He bit into his lip so hard that he drew blood, trying to keep his composure. He couldn’t even go to the gun range right now! But.. He could… go back to that field. He knew where it was. He knew where the bodies were now… he… was running out of patience, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t her fault. The longer they kept her away from him, the more confused she would be. She just needed to understand that he was on her side. If she couldn’t… she would have to learn that there were consequences for going against him.

13. A Shot in the Dark Pt 1

#AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #People Watching

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cbspams · 3 years

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ONF - New World (Performance MV)

The last one. Ahhh, when I first committed to watching RTK, I wasn't sure what to expect and I didn't know anything about the other groups. I'd seen TBZ's Reveal (Catching Fire) which lured me in and I'm grateful for it because I got to see all the other amazing performances everyone pulled off. Beyond just the performances, it was really heartwarming to get little glimpses of the hard work everyone puts into each stage and how they're always supporting each other, within their own teams and outside of it. I would definitely recommend watching RTK if you're interested in getting into any of the groups featured, and even if not I would still recommend watching the performances because they're all so unique in their arrangements and stages. It's the kind of thing that can only happen on a competition show.

Thanks for putting up with all my ranting and know that I love you if you've read all my different thought posts. I hope you all look forward to Kingdom: Legendary War as well, it's gonna be HYPE!

Alright dudes let's get down to it.

Admittedly I did not love ONF for a lot of RTK. They're a great group, but I felt like their stages didn't favor the same kind of theatricality other groups had. And when they were ranked highly for We Must Love + Moscow Moscow (2nd round, My Song) stage, I was frankly a little miffed.

I adored their stage for It's Raining though, and all throughout RTK even if I didn't love them I still thought they were wonderful. Their reactions were so entertaining to watch and their stages were all fun and well executed.

I struggled watching New World a bit because I couldn't get over the fact they went back to more simple performances when It's Raining had been so elaborate.

The performance MV for New World is amazing. I understand the live performance had to be filmed indoors and that because it's indoors and because the stage is black and the stairs are black and the bleachers are black, the impact is different. But I'm really sad about that because the open air film location they did for the performance MV fit the song's vibes so much better. The kind of controlled sunlight, the open air lattices of the building they were standing on, the contrast between the dark outfits the members had and the bright cream of the building's plaster. All of those contributed to such a different vibe for the song, which is so bright and fun.

The opening to the light performance is a short film, similar to ONEUS and Pentagon. I'm not too sure about this but it seems to start with fast cuts from their previous MVs? And then slows down marginally to give a bit of storyline that seems to be a combination of pre and post apocalypse/societal collapse in a fantasy/cyberpunk mix world? Yeah, I dunno I've watched it 4 times and that's the best I could come up with. Especially because the ending shot is several very large meteors crashing through the atmosphere and like, those are pretty deadly so...?

In the pre-performance bit with the ONF members, they had discussed a theme of Pandora's box. Most people know that Pandora's box is a symbol of curses and tragedy, often tied to themes of humanity's greed versus humanity's innocence in listening to the gods. On opening the box, all the diseases and negativity inside flooded out to torment humanity but Hope remains in the box to allow humanity to maintain light in the darkness, and only humanity can give up hope.

NGL I was really excited to see how they would execute that theme. But then?? They kind of treated the box as a time capsule? I could kind of see it like them put their hopes into the box, which is an interesting twist on the tale of Pandora's box but also Confusion because that's definitely not the theme of that story. I kind of let it go though, because maybe they were just borrowing inspiration from the story and not actually trying to represent it.

Moving onto the actual performance and song. The intro is so intense! It's a really interesting fit because the rest of the song is way more dance upbeat/electric. But as far as openings go, pretty impactful and very pleasing to watch the ripple effect with the backup dancers down the aisle.

Again with the colorful flashing lights. Cool? Yes. Contributing to the aesthetic? Not particularly. Productive to the storyline? No. Part of the performance? Yes. Shruggy on this one, I don't really have anything to add that I haven't mentioned in previous commentaries.

I do really like the song though. Just as a piece of music, it's so fun to listen to and has definitely joined the ranks of my usual kpop bops. The kind of light, fast electro beat is something to jam to. Wyatt's voice is just so good, especially as part of the pre-chorus. The contrast makes it delightful to go from verse one to chorus. The lyrics and message of the song are really well thought out and executed as well, talking about reaching a better world and turning away from hurting each other/the environment/generally being hurtful.

OKAY. So this part is actually something I really adored: the sort of robotic formation. Wherein the members stand in the center of several backup dancers who seem to place on pieces or armor or something onto the member's limbs. A very clean cut, fast paced dance sequence that really strongly reminded me of early iron man scenes in which the different parts of armor were installed on the body. Also lowkey reminiscent of magical girl transformation hahahaha. But it's done so cleanly and while the camera angles make it hard to focus, it's still such a treat to watch. AND THEN. The members come up to the shoulders of the backup dancers and for Wyatt's lines, they're just!! In control! If y'all have watched power rangers or Gundam or Aquarion or Neon Evangelion or like, any of those then you know what I'm talking about, in which the human character slides into some massive machine and controls them from the inside to fight monsters (kaiju) and stuff. And the next bit with J-US and the hands! Creative, interesting imagery, just a complete delight to watch. It's just sooooo fun and I love that for ONF, I really do.

I genuinely think that their theme doesn't make much sense without the context of the lyrics and even then it still feels clunky and sort of inspired by rather than actually embodying the concept. So I'd dock point for them for that personally because I think that when themes are introduced and performed, they should show up as more than just a simple prop. But also I acknowledge that dance and musical performances like this (not musicals) aren't necessarily intended to be storytelling, especially in 4th gen kpop. I do like their theme with the keys and opening, I feel like the performance would have been enhanced if instead of using pandora's box, they choose to use the gateway to the new world. A bit on the nose but a lot more impactful with the key turning bit after the second chorus.

On the key turning bit with the weird holographic box: Dude. Those backup dancers? So clean. Nice stiff steps that feel very robotic which goes wonderfully with the costumes. The keys they each take actually read RTK ONF if you go clockwise from the left (MK). Just a neato little fact. Attention to detail is so good. And the timing of the key turns, of course it was gonna be to the beat but like still! Satisfying af.

Why Wyatt grabs the box and slams it to the ground I don't know. Maybe it has to do with the line dive into new world.

The high notes. Again. Literally just. What the fuck guys, they're so good. I'm gonna cry. The stability, the pitch, just. (sobbing)

The LED screen in the back is interesting? Is it supposed to be a door into the new world? Probably?

Dance break!! Guitar solo!! The door tradition into the weird stripey LED screens that just feels so chaotic and kinda like I'm going through a movie warp portal. Somehow when combined together it all works lmao??

I love the bridge. There's no reason for it, I just love Wyatt's fast paced lines and the kind of dun dun dun fast tempo beat tapping.

The ending of running away from the camera, towards the little cliffs and the LED screen was a good choice because the last lines refer to how they'll never stop as long as they're alive. Not the most impactful ending but definitely satisfying given the song's lyrics and meaning. Again, that lack of pandora's box kind of haunts me?

Overall if I consider this ONF performance compared to their others it doesn't feel quite as thought out and executed. Similar to their We Must Love + Moscow Moscow performance where I couldn't really see the marionette theme, I couldn't really understand the idea of Pandora's box in this performance and I really wish they had chosen perhaps a gateway to the new world or some other theme instead because it would fit much better. It's also a little lackluster compared to the performance MV that had a lot of contrast which created more focus and contributed more to the atmosphere of the performance.

Still, as a performance on it's own, it does pretty well and I'm really happy for ONF to have performed it. Thank you RTK for introducing me to this song and to ONF in general, I hope they continue to release some really good stuff.

#admin talk #rtk commentary #rtk performance comments

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eirian-houpe · 4 years

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The Dark One and the Beast

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: fairy curses, Snark, Fun but serious

Series: Part 1 of Lover's Leap

Summary: The weather has taken a serious and unseasonal turn for the worst and Rumplestiltskin is missing. When Belle finally locates him, he has fallen foul of a 'disagreement' with a self proclaimed, powerful occultist and a fairy curse.

This is the first AU-gust fic, and the prompt was Fantasy. Further inspiration came from Reedsy

Read on AO3

The Dark One and the Beast

The Dark Castle seemed a little darker these days. Perhaps it was that fall was marching toward winter, and the nights drawing in. Maybe it was that the weather, of late, had been… well, to say it had been less than ideal harvest weather would be an understatement. Belle hadn’t any other choice than to go out into the garden in wind and rain, and foggy days that seemed never to reach full daylight. Or perhaps it was because it was getting harder to remember the last time she had seen Rumplestiltskin.

Not that she had actually searched, nor that he hadn’t been away on other occasions, for days at a time, but this time she had a bad feeling about his absence. Perhaps that was down to the aforementioned and rapidly deteriorating conditions in and around Rumple’s demesne, or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that one morning, she came into the Great Hall to clean out the fireplace before it lit itself for the day, and found a new item of furniture between the two chairs that graced the hearth.

At first she didn’t think much of it, but the longer it was there, the more she felt drawn to it for reasons she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that it was dusty, it wasn’t that there were marks on it - unless you counted the strange symbols that seemed etched into the wood in the middle of the table - for it was neither, it was just… as though something was calling to her.

…or someone.

On the third morning, when she came upstairs in near darkness - Rumple still hadn’t given her a proper bedroom even after all the time she had been with him - she bypassed the kitchens, skipped breakfast, and went straight to the Great Hall. There, she sat in one of the two large chairs; luxuriated in its comfort if she were honest, and didn’t even bother to clean the fireplace. She actually felt a perverse kind of pleasure in her rebellion as the fire sprang to life, framed by the huge mantle. She found her eyes drawn to the amber goblet standing in the middle of it making a dust void of its own.

As the morning stretched on, that knowledge became a kind of frustration, since she’d been told not to touch his magical things and she knew for a fact that the goblet held magic. She knew it by the fairy script that to the untrained eye would simply have looked like a decorative border round the base of the stem. As the frustration turned to irritation of course she had no one else to blame but Rumple, and where in the name of the gods was he anyway?

“Where are you, Rumplestiltskin!” she harangued the empty air.

Finally!

The answer came out of nowhere, in his usual nasal, sarcastic snark and Belle’s head turned first one way and then the other, expecting him to materialize at any second. He didn’t.

You know… if I thought it was going to take you this long to realize this weather wasn’t ‘natural’ I would have been far less subtle about it.

“Where are you?” she repeated again, this time lacking in irritation and increased in concern.

Look down, dearie.

She did, looking at the floor at her feet.

No, no, no! She could almost hear him waving his hand in dismissal of her effort. Up a little.

She lifted her gaze, her eyes darting one way and another, expecting at any moment to catch sight of the tight brown leather of the outfit she had last seen Rumplestiltskin wearing.

Something about the color made her eyes stray to the table between the two chairs and she wondered - not without some amount of returning irritation - why Rumplestiltskin was playing such games with her She slipped from the comfort of the chair onto her knees so that she could peer under the low table, ready to catch sight of Rumplestiltskin in all his impishness.

Oh, for goodness sake, girl! Must I do everything? The table… the table!

“I have a name!” she snapped back.

Yes, and I’ll use it when you use the brains the gods gave a chicken!

Almost growling at his rudeness, Belle sat back on her heels and timidly lay her hand on the tabletop, feeling a strange kind of vibration humming through her fingers.

His irritated sarcasm switched in an instant to his playful laughter. /Good… very good… now what comes next, Belle? Then crooning he added, Remember how to summon the Dark One?

“Rumplestiltskin…” she began, softly at first, but the second time, as the humming in her fingers increased, she declaimed, “Rumplestiltskin…”

…Yesss…

“Rumplestiltskin!”

The world around her shifted, and instead of the Dark Castle, she found herself inside the whorl or the knot of a piece of wood.

“Well, that’s not supposed to happen,” Rumplestiltskin said, frowning as Belle turned to face him. Frowning was all he could do, embedded as he was in the walls of his wooden prison.

“What…?” Belle stammered, “How—?”

“Oh, it’s easy really,” he snarked, anticipating what all the stuttering was about, then raised his free hand at the wrist to point in her direction. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault!” his maid’s question held entirely too much indignation for his liking.

“Well, if you’d told me what the fairy incantation around the bottom of the goblet said, I would never have touched it, let alone drank from the wretched thing! Damned interfering gnats!”

“Oh, no!” Belles hands flew to her hips. “You’re not putting this on me. You’re the sorcerer. You’re the Dark One, so don’t tell me you couldn’t feel the magic on it… and fairy magic at that!”

“Well…” Rumplestiltskin squirmed verbally, and then finally conceded, “All right. Fine… perhaps not all your fault.”

“Rumplestiltskin, I swear—” She stepped towards him, hands still on her hips but broke off, her eyes snapping to his side, where the other inhabitant of their ligneous prison stood immobile within a transparent shimmer of purple energies. “Who’s that?”

Rumplestiltskin huffed.

“That, dearie, is the reason I could only manipulate nature like some toothless dryad,” he snapped, pouring a great deal of disgust into the word ‘nature.’

“That,” Belle emphasized the word not only with her voice, but with the finger she pointed, not at the other figure, but at Rumplestiltskin himself, “is a person, not a thing.”

“That,” Rumple mimicked Belle’s tone, but added in his own indignation, “Is a drug addled egomaniac who calls himself The Beast, and is a wannabe Dark One. So much so that the stupid fairy magic dropped me right into his idiotic ritual in some forest by his home. So you’ll forgive me my less-than-impressed attitude. Damnable drama queen!”

Belle muttered something under her breath that Rumplestiltskin was certain was not complimentary, so tapped the toe of his free foot against the timber floor.

“Well?” he said expectantly. “Are you going to get me out of here or just stand around gawping?”

“Oh, definitely the gawping,” Belle said and folded her arms across her chest. “At least until you tell me who he is, and how the two of you ended up as… as… a coffee table!”

“We had a disagreement, of course,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Speaking of which, be a dear and take that dagger from his hand.”

“Why?”

“It’s mine,” he snapped, then more playfully he added, “And you know how I feel about my ‘things’.”

He raised an eyebrow, expectantly, and Belle sighed.

“Fine!” she snapped, and all but stomped over to the other man, before gingerly dipping her hand into the shimmering around him, her hand closing around the fluted blade, with care, though not enough, as Rumplestiltskin saw her wince. He had to give her credit though, it did not deter her and when she withdrew her hand. She held the dagger gingerly, still by the blade, and then turning to him, offered him the hilt. “There.”

He rolled his eyes, and though it pained him to have to admit it, in this case his next words had never been more true. “It’s no good to me. Not here.”

“Then what…?” Belle asked, shifting her gaze between him and the dagger.

“Loopholes, dearie,” he sang. “Just hold it up… good. Now, repeat after me…”

He tried not to tense as he watched Belle raise the dagger, this time holding it by the hilt, and repeated his words exactly, and with almost the same intonation as he had used in very carefully ensuring just the right wording to achieve the desired result by compulsion.

His muscles stretched and strained, and he growled like an angry tiger as he pulled and twisted, cracking wood - and he was sure a few bones as well, judging from the pain - as he tore himself free of the confining wood, finally shaking away the last of the wood chips as he stumbled toward where Belle stood, staring at him in horror.

He both covered the stumble, and retrieved his dagger from Belle’s hand at one and the same time, with a brisk, “I’ll take that!” before summoning his magic once again to aparate the both of them out of the table, and back into the Great Hall of the Dark Castle.

Rumplestiltskin breathed a sigh of relief, but allowed himself only a moment before he turned to Belle and as though they had just returned from a brisk walk in the out of doors, said, “Well, that was a bit of a mess. Could all have been avoided if you’d have read the inscription to me.”

As he spoke he snatched the goblet from the dusty mantle piece and held it out to Belle, waving a hand over it to fill the bottom of it with the sweetest nectar.

“I said before—” she began to argue, but he cut her off.

“Uh uh uh!” He held the goblet out to her expectation written on his face. “For your part in it all, you’ll share my fate, this geas those twittering idiots tricked me into.”

“I will n—”

“After all, there’s no telling how long I might get snatched away for the next time.”

“What do you mean, ‘the next time?’” Belle asked, her gaze shifting between the goblet and his face as she asked.

“Don’t you know, dearie,” he waggled the goblet in her direction and waited while she took it gingerly, and began to run her eyes over the fairy script.

Belle carefully translated every word of the spell that lay upon the goblet… each word filling her with greater and greater worry. The fairies had created a curse - of sorts - wherein Rumple would be thrown, literally, through realm, and time, and space into another existence… his only hope for salvation; for return to his own realm - their realm - to right a wrong that happened in whatever time and place he found himself.

What frightened her more than anything was the dawning realization that, by sharing his fate, she would be the keeper of the key.

She swallowed hard, still cupping the goblet in her hand, staring into the liquid at the bottom of the cup, indecisive.

“What about him?” she said, stalling for more time, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Well, I can’t let him go,” Rumple said, as if he were stating the blatantly obvious. “There’s no telling what mischief he’d get up to; the trouble he’d cause.”

“You can’t just leave him like that,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone perplexed.

“Won’t he be missed?”

“They already think he’s dead… in his time, I mean,” he said. “Returning him now would perpetuate his already over inflated image.”

“But—”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, and Belle fell silent, then sighed.

“No buts, Belle,” he said, and his tone was almost gentle. “Some things—”

This time it was Belle’s turn to interrupt. “No. You send him back, or I won’t drink.”

She held out the goblet in his direction as though to return it.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, shook his head, and rolled his eyes, and Belle allowed herself to be distracted by his theatrics, never once considering that she had just left him an enormous loophole.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Consider it a deal.”

She watched as he waved his hand, and the table disappeared in a plume of purple smoke, and then he stepped into the space it previously occupied.

“Now drink,” he commanded, and his tone was icy. Belle knew better than to disobey.

In a room in the Netherwood Residential Hotel in Hastings, a space previously empty, in the bright light of a bay window space, an ornately decorated, low standing coffee table stood alone. Its once varnished sheen was faded, and the table’s top was strewn with the paraphernalia of one addicted to heroin.

When the room’s occupant seemed never to return, and to have absconded without paying his rent, fearing the man he knew the occupant to be, the proprietor gathered the former residents things, and burned them all to cinders and ash in the hotel’s furnace, having a care to, thereafter, fully cleanse and salt the furnace before returning it to its former operation.

The ashes he stored carefully in a lead lined box, and shipped to his brother, an undertaker in Brighton, where they remained until, with the passage of time, somehow they were lost.

End notes:

Of Aleister Crowley (The Beast), the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography has the following to say:

“On 1 December 1947, at Netherwood, a residential hotel in The Ridge, Hastings, Crowley, by this time a chronic heroin addict, died of bronchitis and heart congestion. His remains were cremated at Brighton and reportedly have been lost.”

#rumbelle #au-gust #fairy curses #snark #fun but serious

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