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#one of his all time favorite people

fancy-rock-dove · 15 days

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Having some feelings this evening about Frodo’s reaction to people around him being corrupted by desire for the One Ring. How generally devoid it is of any blame placed on that person, and how he instead treats it as a tragedy to spare others from by distancing himself.

It’s a big deal in the latter books that Frodo wants to show Sméagol kindness if possible because things have progressed so far that Frodo can recognize his own experience in him. But what’s really making me stare at a wall right now are Frodo’s early days reactions even before the personal identification is as strong.

Basically, I can’t stop thinking about how deeply Frodo’s reaction to that last encounter with Boromir is informed by the fact that the first person to ever try and take the ring from Frodo was actually Bilbo. The fact that the first person Frodo ever saw corrupted to that point, even for a moment, was the kind, clever, caring uncle who adopted and taught him, and who Frodo thinks the world of.

Just thinking about the personal relationship Frodo had with the very first person he saw the Ring affect and how fundamentally that set the tone for his understanding of it for the entirety of the journey.

#tossing my thoughts into the void #is this anything #idk tumblr can have my 1am LOTR shower thoughts #lotr #frodo baggins #bilbo baggins #boromir #I’m due for a reread methinks #idk man I just think it’s really fundamentally important that the very FIRST person Frodo ever saw the ring corrupt was and continues to be #one of his all time favorite people #like of course he views the ring’s affect as a tragedy and not a failing #of course he does

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pumpkinrootbeer · 4 months

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I just have to sing my praises for Shadow's VA in prime rq I think Ian hanlin does such a fantastic job as shadow I am just. consistently amazed. I think some previous iterations lean a little too hard into the growl but Ian hanlin brings a modernization to the character that I think works really well. Still very clearly Shadow but sounds more natural imo. Genuinely wonderful would love to hear him as shadow in other productions

#:v #shadow the hedgehog #sonic prime #Honestly prime is all around a great time for shadows characterization #probably one of my favorite #The line ''is that all you got?'' was just SO shadow 😭#This is truly the year of shadow we're so back #(would love to see a bit more of this type of characterization for shadow in IDW)#I love IDW and I am a IDW shadow defender until I die #I also think the last issue shadow was in was just. peak for his character fantastico #I would just like more 😁#Me trying to convince people that Ian hanlin should voice shadow in the movie: it would be a perfect gift.. For Christmas 😏

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void-and-virtue · 2 years

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Neil as a team captain is positively delightful, because making him captain is both absolutely insane and absolutely brilliant. It capitalizes on the passive effect of having one (1) Neil Josten (god knows the world couldn’t handle if there were more of him) on the team in the most efficient way. Like. I’m 90% sure that after spending some time around him on the same team, most people will look up to him completely awestruck for how much he has impacted their lives, but that’s just not what is actually happening here. I feel like what’s going on is this:

Neil is a terribly amazing choice for team captain entirely because Neil is a meddlesome little asshole who will forcibly fix all of his teammates’ personal problems and improve their entire lives for literally no other reason than that he needs them to be able to focus on fucking ball so he can win at sports. It’s not even that he genuinely cares about people and their well-being (apart from his original foxes). He just gets pissed when things aren’t working properly because it makes Exy annoying when the lineup can’t communicate. Exy isn’t supposed to be annoying. Exy is life. He’d meddle whether he is captain or not, but by making him captain, he has so much more official executive power at his hands. It’s like people are explicitly asking for him to do his worst. So, fueled by his own competitiveness and love for the sport, off he goes.

Neil is just as bad as Kevin when it comes to his Exy obsession. The major difference between them is that Kevin is endlessly tactical and he runs Exy with a focus on a technical and physical level entirely, whereas Neil’s approach is to look beyond a lack of practice and basically psychoanalyzing people on why they are not doing 110% for Exy. Kevin says “let’s run this drill 500 times, then we will inevitably be better”. Meanwhile Neil is scheming how to coerce and bribe people into life-changing decisions and long-needed healing, entirely because he wants to optimize playing a sport. Exy is a team sport, which is why this is the most logical approach his little Exy brain comes up with rather than minding his own fucking business. He looks at the team and is like “is anyone gonna whip this into shape? No?? I’ll fucking do it then cowards” and goes and does exactly that. It’s like he’s fixing the equipment so he can play.

I don’t think anyone except for Andrew is really aware that Neil really isn’t doing this out of the innate goodness of his heart, but because his personal brand of practicality involves the most convoluted and creative kind of scheming. I feel like Neil is a lot more selfish than people give him credit for. Sure, there’s people he cares deeply and unconditionally for, but that’s really not everyone. It’s fascinating to watch, especially because it’s not like he ever hides that he doesn’t particularly care, but people kinda assume he does, because why else would he put in this much effort?

Exy. The answer is Exy.

#Andrew hates him for this #but I also feel like it’s Andrew’s favorite pass time to just watch Neil do as Neil does #you can’t take the meddling out of Neil #first year was Neil meddling on steroids basically bc he thought he was gonna die so he had to optimize Exy to play and had no choice #that’s how he fixed the foxes the first time #but even so #even if he doesn’t care about most of the new foxes or his eventual pro teams as much #I don’t think he will ever stop with this kind of stuff because I’m dead certain he gets so annoyed when exy isn’t exy-ing #that he ends up fixing problems the majority of people would not be able to eben pick up on just by association #Neil ‘he found their humanity interesting’ Josten #he doesn’t need the death threats to motivate him #somewhere in the background Andrew is watching his every move and realizing time and time again how terrifyingly smart Neil is #and how well he can put his observations to use in really ruthless unapologetic ways #and then Andrew is faced with the reality that all of that brainpower is being used for exy and exy alone #thinking about Neil will kill that man one day I stg #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #andreil #aftg headcanon #aftg meta #character analysis #post canon #the foxhole court #tfc

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queenlucythevaliant · 3 months

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Tell Your Dad You Love Him

A retelling of "Meat Loves Salt"/"Cap O'Rushes" for the @inklings-challenge Four Loves event

An old king had three daughters. When his health began to fail, he summoned them, and they came.

Gordonia and Rowan were already waiting in the hallway when Coriander arrived. They were leaned up against the wall opposite the king’s office with an air of affected casualness. “I wonder what the old war horse wants today?” Rowan was saying. “More about next year’s political appointments, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“The older he gets, the more he micromanages,” Gordonia groused fondly. “A thousand dollars says this meeting could’ve been an email.”

They filed in single-file like they’d so often done as children: Gordonia first, then Rowan, and Coriander last of all. The king had placed three chairs in front of his desk all in a row. His daughters murmured their greetings, and one by one they sat down.

“I have divided everything I have in three,” the king said. “I am old now, and it’s time. Today, I will pass my kingdom on to you, my daughters.”

A short gasp came from Gordonia. None of them could have imagined that their father would give up running his kingdom while he still lived.

The king went on. “I know you will deal wisely with that which I leave in your care. But before we begin, I have one request.”

“Yes father?” said Rowan.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

An awkward silence fell. Although there was no shortage of love between the king and his daughters, theirs was not a family which spoke of such things. They were rich and blue-blooded: a soldier and the daughters of a soldier, a king and his three court-reared princesses. The royal family had always shown their affection through double meanings and hot cups of coffee.

Gordonia recovered herself first. She leaned forward over the desk and clasped her father’s hands in her own. “Father,” she said, “I love you more than I can say.” A pause. “I don’t think there’s ever been a family so happy in love as we have been. You’re a good dad.”

The old king smiled and patted her hand. “Thank you, Gordonia. We have been very happy, haven’t we? Here is your inheritance. Cherish it, as I cherish you.”

Rowan spoke next; the words came tumbling out. “Father! There’s not a thing in my life which you didn’t give me, and all the joy in the world beside. Come now, Gordonia, there’s no need to understate the matter. I love you more than—why, more than life itself!”

The king laughed, and rose to embrace his second daughter. “How you delight me, Rowan. All of this will be yours.”

Only Coriander remained. As her sisters had spoken, she’d wrung her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say. Did her father really mean for flattery to be the price of her inheritance? That just wasn’t like him. For all that he was a politician, he’d been a soldier first. He liked it when people told the truth.

When the king’s eyes came to rest on her, Coriander raised her own to meet them. “Do you really want to hear what you already know?”

“I do.”

She searched for a metaphor that could carry the weight of her love without unnecessary adornment. At last she found one, and nodded, satisfied. “Dad, you’re like—like salt in my food.”

“Like salt?”

“Well—yes.”

The king’s broad shoulders seemed to droop. For a moment, Coriander almost took back her words. Her father was the strongest man in the world, even now, at eighty. She’d watched him argue with foreign rulers and wage wars all her life. Nothing could hurt him. Could he really be upset?

But no. Coriander held her father’s gaze. She had spoken true. What harm could be in that?

“I don’t know why you’re even here, Cor,” her father said.

Now, Coriander shifted slightly in her seat, unnerved. “What? Father—”

“It would be best if—you should go,” said the old king.

“Father, you can’t really mean–”

“Leave us, Coriander.”

So she left the king’s court that very hour.

It had been a long time since she’d gone anywhere without a chauffeur to drive her, but Coriander’s thoughts were flying apart too fast for her to be afraid. She didn’t know where she would go, but she would make do, and maybe someday her father would puzzle out her metaphor and call her home to him. Coriander had to hope for that, at least. The loss of her inheritance didn’t feel real yet, but her father—how could he not know that she loved him? She’d said it every day.

She’d played in the hall outside that same office as a child. She’d told him her secrets and her fears and sent him pictures on random Tuesdays when they were in different cities just because. She had watched him triumph in conference rooms and on the battlefield and she’d wanted so badly to be like him.

If her father doubted her love, then maybe he’d never noticed any of it. Maybe the love had been an unnoticed phantasm, a shadow, a song sung to a deaf man. Maybe all that love had been nothing at all.

A storm was on the horizon, and it reached her just as she made it onto the highway. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Rain poured down and flooded the road. Before long, Coriander was hydroplaning. Frantically, she tried to remember what you were supposed to do when that happened. Pump the brakes? She tried. No use. Wasn’t there something different you did if the car had antilock brakes? Or was that for snow? What else, what else–

With a sickening crunch, her car hit the guardrail. No matter. Coriander’s thoughts were all frenzied and distant. She climbed out of the car and just started walking.

Coriander wandered beneath an angry sky on the great white plains of her father’s kingdom. The rain beat down hard, and within seconds she was soaked to the skin. The storm buffeted her long hair around her head. It tangled together into long, matted cords that hung limp down her back. Mud soiled her fine dress and splattered onto her face and hands. There was water in her lungs and it hurt to breathe. Oh, let me die here, Coriander thought. There’s nothing left for me, nothing at all. She kept walking.

When she opened her eyes, Coriander found herself in a dank gray loft. She was lying on a strange feather mattress.

She remained there a while, looking up at the rafters and wondering where she could be. She thought and felt, as it seemed, through a heavy and impenetrable mist; she was aware only of hunger and weakness and a dreadful chill (though she was all wrapped in blankets). She knew that a long time must have passed since she was fully aware, though she had a confused memory of wandering beside the highway in a thunderstorm, slowly going mad because—because— oh, there’d been something terrible in her dreams. Her father, shoulders drooping at his desk, and her sisters happily come into their inheritance, and she cast into exile—

She shuddered and sat up dizzily. “Oh, mercy,” she murmured. She hadn’t been dreaming.

She stumbled out of the loft down a narrow flight of stairs and came into a strange little room with a single window and a few shabby chairs. Still clinging to the rail, she heard a ruckus from nearby and then footsteps. A plump woman came running to her from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and softly clucking at the state of her guest’s matted, tangled hair.

“Dear, dear,” said the woman. “Here’s my hand, if you’re still unsteady. That’s good, good. Don’t be afraid, child. I’m Katherine, and my husband is Folke. He found you collapsed by the goose-pond night before last. I’m she who dressed you—your fine gown was ruined, I’m afraid. Would you like some breakfast? There’s coffee on the counter, and we’ll have porridge in a minute if you’re patient.”

“Thank you,” Coriander rasped.

“Will you tell me your name, my dear?”

“I have no name. There’s nothing to tell.”

Katherine clicked her tongue. “That’s alright, no need to worry. Folke and I’ve been calling you Rush on account of your poor hair. I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but it looks a lot like river rushes. No, don’t get up. Here’s your breakfast, dear.”

There was indeed porridge, as Katherine had promised, served with cream and berries from the garden. Coriander ate hungrily and tasted very little. Then, when she was finished, the goodwife ushered her over to a sofa by the window and put a pillow beneath her head. Coriander thanked her, and promptly fell asleep.

She woke again around noon, with the pounding in her head much subsided. She woke feeling herself again, to visions of her father inches away and the sound of his voice cracking across her name.

Katherine was outside in the garden; Coriander could see her through the clouded window above her. She rose and, upon finding herself still in a borrowed nightgown, wrapped herself in a blanket to venture outside.

“Feeling better?” Katherine was kneeling in a patch of lavender, but she half rose when she heard the cottage door open.

“Much. Thank you, ma’am.

“No thanks necessary. Folke and I are ministers, of a kind. We keep this cottage for lost and wandering souls. You’re free to remain here with us for as long as you need.”

“Oh,” was all Coriander could think to say.

“You’ve been through a tempest, haven’t you? Are you well enough to tell me where you came from?”

Coriander shifted uncomfortably. “I’m from nowhere,” she said. “I have nothing.”

“You don’t owe me your story, child. I should like to hear it, but it will keep till you’re ready. Now, why don’t you put on some proper clothes and come help me with this weeding.”

Coriander remained at the cottage with Katherine and her husband Folke for a week, then a fortnight. She slept in the loft and rose with the sun to help Folke herd the geese to the pond. After, Coriander would return and see what needed doing around the cottage. She liked helping Katherine in the garden.

The grass turned gold and the geese’s thick winter down began to come in. Coriander’s river-rush hair proved itself unsalvageable. She spent hours trying to untangle it, first with a hairbrush, then with a fine-tooth comb and a bottle of conditioner, and eventually even with honey and olive oil (a home remedy that Folke said his mother used to use). So, at last, Coriander surrendered to the inevitable and gave Katherine permission to cut it off. One night, by the yellow light of the bare bulb that hung over the kitchen table, Katherine draped a towel over Coriander’s shoulders and tufts of gold went falling to the floor all round her.

“I’m here because I failed at love,” she managed to tell the couple at last, when her sorrows began to feel more distant. “I loved my father, and he knew it not.”

Folke and Katherine still called her Rush. She didn’t correct them. Coriander was the name her parents gave her. It was the name her father had called her when she was six and racing down the stairs to meet him when he came home from Europe, and at ten when she showed him the new song she’d learned to play on the harp. She’d been Cor when she brought her first boyfriend home and Cori the first time she shadowed him at court. Coriander, Coriander, when she came home from college the first time and he’d hugged her with bruising strength. Her strong, powerful father.

As she seasoned a pot of soup for supper, she wondered if he understood yet what she’d meant when she called him salt in her food.

Coriander had been living with Katherine and Folke for two years, and it was a morning just like any other. She was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee when Folke tossed the newspaper on the table and started rummaging in the fridge for his orange juice. “Looks like the old king’s sick again,” he commented casually. Coriander froze.

She raced to the table and seized hold of the paper. There, above the fold, big black letters said, KING ADMITTED TO HOSPITAL FOR EMERGENCY TREATMENT. There was a picture of her father, looking older than she’d ever seen him. Her knees went wobbly and then suddenly the room was sideways.

Strong arms caught her and hauled her upright. “What’s wrong, Rush?”

“What if he dies,” she choked out. “What if he dies and I never got to tell him?”

She looked up into Folke’s puzzled face, and then the whole sorry story came tumbling out.

When she was through, Katherine (who had come downstairs sometime between salt and the storm) took hold of her hand and kissed it. “Bless you, dear,” she said. “I never would have guessed. Maybe it’s best that you’ve both had some time to think things over.”

Katherine shook her head. “But don’t you think…?”

“Yes?”

“Well, don’t you think he should have known that I loved him? I shouldn’t have needed to say it. He’s my father. He’s the king.”

Katherine replied briskly, as though the answer should have been obvious. “He’s only human, child, for all that he might wear a crown; he’s not omniscient. Why didn’t you tell your father what he wanted to hear?”

“I didn’t want to flatter him,” said Coriander. “That was all. I wanted to be right in what I said.”

The goodwife clucked softly. “Oh dear. Don’t you know that sometimes, it’s more important to be kind than to be right?”

In her leave-taking, Coriander tried to tell Katherine and Folke how grateful she was to them, but they wouldn’t let her. They bought her a bus ticket and sent her on her way towards King’s City with plenty of provisions. Two days later, Coriander stood on the back steps of one of the palace outbuildings with her little carpetbag clutched in her hands.

Stuffing down the fear of being recognized, Coriander squared her shoulders and hoped they looked as strong as her father’s. She rapped on the door, and presently a maid came and opened it. The maid glanced Coriander up and down, but after a moment it was clear that her disguise held. With all her long hair shorn off, she must have looked like any other girl come in off the street.

“I’m here about a job,” said Coriander. “My name’s Rush.”

The king's chambers were half-lit when Coriander brought him his supper, dressed in her servants’ apparel. He grunted when she knocked and gestured with a cane towards his bedside table. His hair was snow-white and he was sitting in bed with his work spread across a lap-desk. His motions were very slow.

Coriander wanted to cry, seeing her father like that. Yet somehow, she managed to school her face. Like he would, she kept telling herself. Stoically, she put down the supper tray, then stepped back out into the hallway.

It was several minutes more before the king was ready to eat. Coriander heard papers being shuffled, probably filed in those same manilla folders her father had always used. In the hall, Coriander felt the seconds lengthen. She steeled herself for the moment she knew was coming, when the king would call out in irritation, “Girl! What's the matter with my food? Why hasn’t it got any taste?”

When that moment came, all would be made right. Coriander would go into the room and taste his food. “Why,” she would say, with a look of complete innocence, “It seems the kitchen forgot to salt it!” She imagined how her father’s face would change when he finally understood. My daughter always loved me, he would say.

Soon, soon. It would happen soon. Any second now.

The moment never came. Instead, the floor creaked, followed by the rough sound of a cane striking the floor. The door opened, and then the king was there, his mighty shoulders shaking. “Coriander,” he whispered.

“Dad. You know me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you understand now?”

The king’s wrinkled brow knit. “Understand about the salt? Of course, I do. It wasn't such a clever riddle. There was surely no need to ruin my supper with a demonstration.”

Coriander gaped at him. She'd expected questions, explanations, maybe apologies for sending her away. She'd never imagined this.

She wanted very badly to seize her father and demand answers, but then she looked, really looked, at the way he was leaning on his cane. The king was barely upright; his white head was bent low. Her questions would hold until she'd helped her father back into his room.

“If you knew what I meant–by saying you were like salt in my food– then why did you tell me to go?” she asked once they were situated back in the royal quarters.

Idly, the king picked at his unseasoned food. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me, Coriander. My anger and hurt got the better of me, and it has brought me much grief. I never expected you to stay away for so long.”

Coriander nodded slowly. Her father's words had always carried such fierce authority. She'd never thought to question if he really meant what he’d said to her.

“As for the salt,” continued the king, "Is it so wrong that an old man should want to hear his daughters say ‘I love you' before he dies?”

Coriander rolled the words around in her head, trying to make sense of them. Then, with a sudden mewling sound from her throat, she managed to say, “That's really all you wanted?”

“That's all. I am old, Cor, and we've spoken too little of love in our house.” He took another bite of his unsalted supper. His hand shook. “That was my failing, I suppose. Perhaps if I’d said it, you girls would have thought to say it back.”

“But father!” gasped Coriander, “That’s not right. We've always known we loved one another! We've shown it a thousand ways. Why, I've spent the last year cataloging them in my head, and I've still not even scratched the surface!”

The king sighed. “Perhaps you will understand when your time comes. I knew, and yet I didn't. What can you really call a thing you’ve never named? How do you know it exists? Perhaps all the love I thought I knew was only a figment.”

“But that’s what I’ve been afraid of all this time,” Coriander bit back. “How could you doubt? If it was real at all– how could you doubt?”

The king’s weathered face grew still. His eyes fell shut and he squeezed them. “Death is close to me, child. A small measure of reassurance is not so very much to ask.”

Coriander slept in her old rooms that night. None of it had changed. When she woke the next morning, for a moment she remembered nothing of the last two years.

She breakfasted in the garden with her father, who came down the steps in a chair-lift. “Coriander,” he murmured. “I half-thought I dreamed you last night.”

“I’m here, Dad,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, the king reached out with one withered hand and caressed Coriander's cheek. Then, his fingers drifted up to what remained of her hair. He ruffled it, then gently tugged on a tuft the way he'd used to playfully tug her long braid when she was a girl.

“I love you,” he said.

“That was always an I love you, wasn’t it?” replied Coriander. “My hair.”

The king nodded. “Yes, I think it was.”

So Coriander reached out and gently tugged the white hairs of his beard. “You too,” she whispered.

“Why salt?” The king was sitting by the fire in his rooms wrapped in two blankets. Coriander was with him, enduring the sweltering heat of the room without complaint.

She frowned. “You like honesty. We have that in common. I was trying to be honest–accurate–to avoid false flattery.”

The king tugged at the outer blanket, saying nothing. His lips thinned and his eyes dropped to his lap. Coriander wished they wouldn’t. She wished they would hold to hers, steely and ready for combat as they always used to be.

“Would it really have been false?” the king said at last. “Was there no other honest way to say it? Only salt?”

Coriander wanted to deny it, to give speech to the depth and breadth of her love, but once again words failed her. “It was my fault,” she said. “I didn’t know how to heave my heart into my throat.” She still didn’t, for all she wanted to.

When the doctor left, the king was almost too tired to talk. His words came slowly, slurred at the edges and disconnected, like drops of water from a leaky faucet.

Still, Coriander could tell that he had something to say. She waited patiently as his lips and tongue struggled to form the words. “Love you… so… much… You… and… your sisters… Don’t… worry… if you… can’t…say…how…much. I… know.”

It was all effort. The king sat back when he was finished. Something was still spasming in his throat, and Coriander wanted to cry.

“I’m glad you know,” she said. “I’m glad. But I still want to tell you.”

Love was effort. If her father wanted words, she would give him words. True words. Kind words. She would try…

“I love you like salt in my food. You're desperately important to me, and you've always been there, and I don't know what I'll do without you. I don’t want to lose you. And I love you like the soil in a garden. Like rain in the spring. Like a hero. You have the strongest shoulders of anyone I know, and all I ever wanted was to be like you…”

A warm smile spread across the old king’s face. His eyes drifted shut.

#inklingschallenge #theme: storge #story: complete #inklings challenge #leah stories #OKAY. SO #i spend so much time thinking about king lear. i think i've said before that it's my favorite shakespeare play. it is not close #and one of the hills i will die on is that cordelia was not in the right when she refused to flatter her dad #like. obviously he's definitely not in the right either. the love test was a screwed up way to make sure his kids loved him #he shouldn't have tied their inheritances into it. he DEFINITELY shouldn't have kicked cordelia out when she refused to play #but like. Cordelia. there is no good reason not to tell your elderly dad how much you love him #and okay obviously lear is my starting point but the same applies to the meat loves salt princess #your dad wants you to tell him you love him. there is no good reason to turn it into a riddle. you had other options #and honestly it kinda bothers me when people read cordelia/the princess as though she's perfectly virtuous #she's very human and definitely beats out the cruel sisters but she's definitely not aspirational. she's not to be emulated #at the end of the day both the fairytale and the play are about failures in storge #at happens when it's there and you can't tell. when it's not and you think it is. when you think you know someone's heart and you just don'#hey! that's a thing that happens all the time between parents and children. especially loving past each other and speaking different langua #so the challenge i set myself with this story was: can i retell the fairytale in such a way that the princess is unambiguously in the wrong #and in service of that the king has to get softened so his errors don't overshadow hers #anyway. thank you for coming to my TED talk #i've been thinking about this story since the challenge was announced but i wrote the whole thing last night after the super bowl #got it in under the wire! yay!#also! the whole 'modern setting that conflicts with the fairytale language' is supposed to be in the style of modern shakespeare adaptation #no idea if it worked but i had a lot of fun with it #pontifications and creations

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 8 months

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No you don't understand I love Barnaby x Howdy with x Wally planoticly-

It's in my mind a little more often than it should be lmao

But its there

Living and thriving

oh please, i think i Do understand. so so much.

i have this delusional little world in my head that i often retreat to where the three of them live together. wally is their special lil guy. they all have dinner together. they do activities. sometimes barnaby/howdy wake up and he's in bed w/ them bc he got lonely and wanted to listen to them breathe itsnotcreepyiswear-

#its so so so so soooooo much more than that buy yk...#(sorta) qp barnaby & wally is already incredibly important to me #but throw howdy in the mix? now we're baking!!!#bc you've got Cannot Be Separated barnaby & wally #and then Deeply in Love barnaby/howdy #and Get Along Incredibly Well howdy & wally #barnaby gets to keep his two favorite people within easy reach.... one under each arm!#they all click in my brainspace!!#rambles from the bog #i have this funny lil Scene in my mind #for the first time wally is like 'yeah i wanna go lay with them while they sleep'#they find out by being sleepy dozey and rolling towards each other #Crushing wally's little 12 apple body bc they didnt know he was lying in the tiny space between them <3 #flatten him like pancake...#but yeah many emotions many thoughts I Get It!!!!

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moongothic · 5 months

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Seen at least one (1) person complain about Crocodile losing his "unique faceshape" (now having the same facial structure that 90% of OP men have) after episode 1086 came out and like

To be fair, yes, the shape of his head HAS changed since his first appearance in The Year 2000. The thing is, Toei's latest Crocodile Offering is frankly more in-line with how Oda drew Crocodile during Impel Down and Marineford than ever before. Like yeah he looks different, but this change isn't new

But that comment really did make me think about how FUNNY it is just how different Croc really looks from his first appearance, like. The evolution in how Oda draws the bastard is so facinating to me

These are from chapters 155, 160 and 205 respectively.

No massive changes happening here in the middle of the arc, but you can kinda tell that Oda was definitely still figuring out how this asshole was supposed to look as he got further into the Alabasta (which is perfectly normal), which just makes That First Appearance look even funnier with time because. Who the fuck is that lmaooo

But then we get to see him briefly during Miss Goldenweek's cover story, this being from the cover of chapter 413! All things considdered, bastard hasn't changed that much, still looks pretty much the same as in Alabasta. His head is maybe a little less elongated than before but still, chin is quite pointy still

And now we're in Impel Down at chapter 540. Again, dude looks about the same as he did before...

But it really doesn't take long for Oda to start reshaping this bastard's entire head at this point

Chapters 544, 546, 578, and cover of chapter 584

The chin is easily the most obvious part, but you can tell Oda kind of defaulted to giving him that same ol' evenly square-ish head most his conventionally attractive characters have during these story arcs (instead of the elongated shape he originally had).

And then we have the latest appearances, from 1082 and 1100

I do feel like comparing these to what's come before would be a little unfair considdering his health and eyesight and how those affect the artwork itself, but. They're there, for comparison's sake

But the point is still there. Crocodile's face shape has changed since his first appearance, but it's not like Toei was behind that, the change was (mostly) gradual and from Oda himself. And it mostly happened in 2008, so it's not new by any means either

So really, all Toei did was just update his character model because ⬆️ is more accurate than ⬇️ for One Piece right now

Regardless. The sheer difference between the two is hysterical to me

#Moon posting #OP Spoilers #Sir Crocodile #💚 All Crocodiles are Beautiful 💜#💚 Reblog if the Man in the Bottom Image is as Handsome as the Man in the Top Image 💜#For the record this is not like a serious post #I just genuinely find the evolution in the character design interesting and funny and wanted an excuse to post about it #And people who prefer the Original Pointy Crocodile are Valid #He DID have a more unique face shape and it is a shame he's lost that uniqueness over time thanks to Oda #(Also aren't crocodiles the sharp pointy ones and alligators the ones with wider snoots? Arguably the OG design is more crocodile-like then #I am simply not immune to conventionally attractive evil men. I am quite boring in fact.#OP Meta #My favorite funny minor change is that his hair seems thicker than it was originally but Oda draws him with more lines on his face #So he simultaneously looks older and younger than he did in his original appearance

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stardustdiiving · 6 months

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How evil is arlecchino and what is she cooking

As of 4.2, I’m really curious what they’re planning with Arlecchino as a character, especially as a villain/antagonist/morally dubious character, and how far/which direction they may go with that

Intuitively my impression is we’ll see her do something way more “villainous” than she presents herself as being for majority of Fontaine’s AQ in front of us right—(which isn’t a surprise given that, you know, Arlecchino nor the House of Hearth have never been presented as 110% ethical LOL) but I find myself not being in complete agreement with most analysis or speculation threads I see about Arlecchino’s morality and the like, level of sinister people seem to ascribe to her.

Idk how to put it, especially in regards to her children I do agree they are not a wholesome found family, that Arlecchino is not above pulling strings or using them for her own ulterior motives, but I kind of hesitate on the idea she only cares about the Hearth children as a means to the end/things she can control and there’s nothing else going on with her characterization wise there. I’m not saying that impression seems remotely unreasonable or unfounded, but just that it feels there’s something intentionally missing in how we are supposed to conceptualize her as a person

My main reasoning for this hunch is the fact they have not elaborated on Arlecchino and the previous Knave—who Arlecchino is stated to have taken over the position from by force. The extra tidbits I think about are that 1) Arlecchino was previously an orphan in the Hearth 2) the previous Knave is described as way, way crueler to the children of than Heart than Arlecchino was from when she took control of the House

Often, people’s major indicators that the House of the Hearth is kind of super fucked up are the NPCs we meet in world quests who are part of it and clearly suffering. But one thing I haven’t ever seen people mention w this that i think is a very interesting detail is, in The Very Special Fortune Slip Inazuma worldquest, where we stop this House of Hearth guy (Efim Snezhevich) from manufacturing tension between Watasumi/the Shogunate to restart the war with his other Hearth subordinates, at the end of the quest we get this dialogue that reveals he had been acting under the previous Knave’s directives:

It’s also mentioned he’s employing this plan in an attempt to “rebuild the prestige of the Knave” following Signora’s death, iirc? Now, see, the dialogue itself says that this is “assuming our captive is telling the truth” so who knows what’s really going on, but I find this a really odd/interesting thing to highlight. I’m a bit fuzzy on other world quests with Hearth members, and am not saying none of them were acting and subsequently being treated poorly by our Arlecchino, but like, this gives me a lot of questions especially when paired with implications this previous Knave seemed to be way worse

Like, what drove Arlecchino to take over? How unexpected and controversial was this within the House? Assuming the above information is all true it definitely says something this guy went rogue and acted on what the previous Knave would want and didn’t think our Arlecchino would greenlight it, which does feel consistent with the previous Knave being described as basically worse & crueler than our Arlecchino. It also makes me question how much house of hearth things we’ve seen outside the main story are the work of our Arlecchino or if there’s a bigger divide of loyalty. Heck, I could be wrong but it doesn’t even seem like we know if the previous Knave is dead or not

This isn’t me saying Arlecchino couldn’t possibly be treating hearth children worse than she wants us to know, especially ones who aren’t her “favorites” the way the fontaine trio seem to be, but I really don’t feel sure about making a solid conclusion of her exact level of malice the way ppl r generally understanding it rn when it feels there’s going to be more about her. Just the idea of she, as a Hearth child, clashed with the previous leader who was known for being cruel, overtook their position and took on less harsh methods of leading that made at least some members with more power/possible closer proximity to the previous Knave go rogue and try to commit atrocities in the previous Knave’s name…I feel this leaves a lot of room to suggest there’s more going on with how Arlecchino is as a person

I don’t mind if she’s just very evil and deceptive bc if she totally had me fall for thinking she was less evil than she actually was that’s fun tbh. But I feel people suggest that’s all her character could be with no degree of like, “sympatheticness” or deep grey morality and that if her character did go there it would be automatically poor writing and genshin walking back on making a truly evil woman when IDK. I feel you can claim at this point they have left it open ended and it’s never been completely confirmed she’s pure evil. Also sometimes I just get a hunch and feel cautiously confident in Genshin executing certain characters well. Not all characters, just certain ones. Especially given Fontaine’s character writing being very good and a character like Lyney feeling very solid to me when any development with Arlecchino would likely involve him and his siblings as well, I honestly feel open to the idea of Arlecchino being satisfyingly written to be both villainous/morally dubious but “sympathetic/likable as a person” in ways outside of just her ruthlessness if that makes sense

If I’m wrong/they drop the ball with it more than I anticipate I’ll eat my hat but I am pretty excited about her character and which way they decide to go with it. I will say the only potential impression I have of where they’ll go with her has been wondering if it will go in a “cycles of abuse” direction—I’d be surprised if they ever elaborated on Arlecchino’s character especially in how she feels about things and her also growing up as an exploited child of the hearth wasn’t relevant

#arlecchino #see my track record with said hunch with when I feel I should let genshin cook has been #for months truthing my vision of xiao’s speififc brand of internalized dehumanization induced suicidal ideation #and how genshin will one day he will get another quest of sorts thst develops his character towards #the idea he’s allowed to live and enjoy people’s company and this will likely #also come with following through on yaksha lore and when they do this they will do him SO well and it will be peak genshin quest #all of this Months before the existence of perilous trails was even rumored #and then I was soo stubborn xiao would show up in 2023 lantern rite w more character introspection to follow up PT #and also from the first fontsine teaser I was in the trenches for furina bc I felt so confident #the main storyline would handle her very well & if genshin went anywhere near the direction of her #not being a ‘true archon’ & ppl were Wrong if they thought genshin woudlnt take her seriously #and HAHA. WWOOWOOWOWOEOEOOEOEE #I have also been sent into hysteria multiple times bc genshin keeps canonizing my exact ideas of my favorite character dynamics #and often exceeding my expectations that I thought were jsut wishful thinking #yes I predicted exactly how xiao would interact w Venti & zhongli on screen yes I predicted #the exact nature of hat radish friendship no I was wiped out on the floor #by nahida enrolling wanderer in college & calling him hat guy & zhongli saving xiao’s life #& xiao having hardcore social anxiety from zhongven flirting with each other st the dinner table #this sounds so conceited. see I often don’t know What genshin is cooking but k feel sure in knowing when soemthing is going to be #a shitshow or mediocre or when we need to let them cook. even if it takes 6+ months #TRUST ME <— guy who has been waiting on genshin to cook for several characters for multiple years and is still sure I will get my food #am I crazy. yes. am I also often right when I have hunches on when genshin is going to suck and when it’s going to be good esp character #writing wise. often yes #one day I will annihilate genshined impact with my bare hands #genshin #fern.txt #fandomferns

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commsroom · 10 months

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doug eiffel loves the fourth of july. i have to be honest about this. he's obnoxiously american. doug eiffel is the most likely wolf 359 character to chant USA! USA! doug eiffel believes in the traditional american cuisine of hot dogs and hamburgers grilled in the park. he loves monster trucks. he loves some of the worst over-the-top action movies you've ever seen. eiffel would be your terrible neighbor who sets off tons of fireworks just because he can get them cheap. you know he's injured himself doing that before. he has no actual ideological loyalty, though; it's entirely an unexamined pop culture nostalgia thing. eiffel is proud of being american, but he's only attached to the idea of it. that said. i'm not going to say eiffel would wear an american flag speedo, i'm just going to say... if any wolf 359 character would...

#wolf 359 #w359 #doug eiffel #shameful entry into my collection of eiffel holiday posts #but i'm honest about him okay. i know.#that guy loves to make noise. it's a holiday for people who make so much noise all of the time.#also thanksgiving is one of his favorite holidays this man has never had a critical thought in his life.

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suburbanbonfire · 3 months

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do you have any advice on capturing a person's likeness?

HOO BOY well first off, the unfortunate main answer is just,,,,,,lots of practice. The more you draw from references, do studies, the better you eye-to-hand connection will be. So. Yeah. Sorry.

OTHER THAN THAT one thing i like to do is do a really simple rough sketch first, not worrying at all about correctness, but just getting down the way shapes interact with each other, like if you squinted your eyes at the reference image to make it all blurry, what would the shapes be.

here, i like to exaggerate proportion, make the hair one big block, and work almost entirely with long, curved strokes. it also really helps me in particular by not having a totally blank canvas when im starting actually trying to get the likeness right.

if i were to try to actually make his nose right with just a circle for the head down on the paper, i would erase it so so many times.

then, with my clean sketch, I focus a lot on like, relativity? Where does the top of his eye line up with the bridge of his nose? if i draw a straight line up from the corner of his mouth, where would that intersect with his eye?

i like doing that to make sure that everything is placed in roughly the correct spot, and as a way to zoom in on details without getting lost in them

RANDOM OTHER THINGS

I think noses are my favorite to draw, especially for capturing likenesses. They have a lot of personality, and a lot more variety than you see in other places of the face

i know hockey doesn't have like, the widest range of hairstyle ever, but man if you're starting out, please use no-bucket photos as reference. anime was right that hair is such a useful defining feature

if youre drawing digitally, the liquify tool is GOD. if something looks funky it is so nice to be able to just kinda push it into the right spot without having to redraw anything

LOWER YOUR STANDARDS!!!! 95% of the time you're gonna finish a study and be like 'well this is not right' and then when you post it and caption it with who it is, people will see what you're getting at anyways! close enough IS, in fact, good enough

hope something in this helps at least a bit! thank you for the ask!

#one of my favorite comments ive received on anything though #was on the winter classic poster saying 'that looks NOTHING like his hairline'#and it made me laugh so hard #so on the other hand people will be haters no matter what #ALSO the poster im currently working on #has SOOO many fucking players and im going insane trying to make them all look right #lars and joey are beautiful #everyone else is fucked.#ok time 2 color this garth and play dnd #asked n answered

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