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dontshootmespence · 6 years

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Only Time Will Tell

For those of you that expressed an interest, here is the first chapter of the original fantasy novel I wrote/am now editing. I would love feedback, CONSTRUCTIVE ONLY. What do you like? Not like? Does it flow? How could it flow better? Are you intrigued? Better from third or first person? Do I have any facts wrong regarding life in Argentina? Etc, etc, etc. Tagging people who expressed an interest: @ultrarebelheart @stunudo @spencer-is-too-perfect @naturallytom @veroinnumera @mysticpansy @notsopersonalcharlie @casicxs @devils-girl-98 @spookyyymulder @blowing-mikey

The lights started to dim in El Ateneo.

Lucena’s vision, already obstructed by the hanging red theater curtains, which still remained after the bookstore’s restoration, became further obstructed as the lights were one-by-one shut off for the night. It was 10 o’clock.

As she did every night, she stood up from the classics section and looked toward the stage, which had been converted into a seating area for the store’s patrons, as well as those that just wanted an escape from the monotony of daily life in Buenos Aires. She didn’t need an escape; she’d just grown up in the bookstore. It held so many great memories; hide and seek with Severino when they were younger, ducking in between shelves and underneath tables as their mother picked out a book or two; either her fifth or sixth birthday party, she honestly couldn’t remember, where she and her friends acted out a play on the stage, believing themselves to be the actors and actresses of old, enchanting the nearby patrons; sitting in her father’s lap against the back wall at the age of three, listening to his comforting voice as she was lulled off to sleep before being carried home and placed in bed. El Ateneo held the memories of her childhood, the comfort in the midst of her uncertain teenage years, and the hopes of her future; Lucena imagined that this place would always be important to her in one way or another.

Ever since she started high school a couple years earlier, she had made a habit of finishing her homework at the store and then immersing herself in whatever book was currently holding her attention until the store closed at 10 PM; right now, it was a memoir called The Long Goodbye that caught her eye a year before and had finally come to the store. She normally didn’t read memoirs, but she liked the cover art – it was soothing, so she picked it up and was surprised by how easily she was engrossed by it.

Watching as the other patrons descended the stage to return home, she began to dance to the slow and sensual tango that floated through her mind, thinking that the theater’s performers, architects and patrons would be more than happy to know that their beloved theater had been turned into a beautiful bookstore. The stage had hosted some of the most famous tango singers, songwriters, musicians and composers in the world. Ignacio Corsini, Roberto Firpo, even Carlos Gardel – the most prominent figure in the world of tango - had graced that stage at one point or another.

It was their mutual love of Gardel’s music and the city of Mendoza that had brought her parents, Alma and Amelio, together in the late 1990s, so The King of Tango held a special place in Lucena’s heart. Without him, there was a distinct possibility that her parents would have never met and she wouldn’t be where she was now. She spun around, dancing with herself and not caring who saw, when she was stopped by one of the store’s employees.

“We’re closing,” he said, smiling at her carefree spirit. Lucena had the ability to inspire lightness in everyone she crossed paths with, no matter what the circumstances were.

She took the opportunity to pack up her messenger bag, black cotton with an intricate yet soft red rose embroidered on it, filling it up with her notebooks, pens, pencils, textbooks and everything else she had strewn across the floor for the past few hours. With the bag full to bursting slung over her shoulder, she headed toward the exit for her short walk home. After leaving the bookstore at 10, or just before, depending on how distracted she was, she would return home where her mother would be sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of hot tea to ask her precious, only daughter how her day had been and what she’d learned. Lucena had been lucky. Most of her friends and acquaintances had strained relationships with both of their parents, but she was different. She and her mother had been amazingly close ever since she could remember and their nightly talks had only brought them closer over the years. Anything she put her mind to, anything she wanted to pursue, anything she wanted to be – her parents had encouraged, allowing her to pick her own path and become her own person. It didn’t matter how much they wanted to keep her close or how worried they were about her future; they realized the need for her to live her own life and make her own mistakes.

Unlike her relationship with her mother, Lucena’s connection with her father hadn’t had the chance to grow in the same way; her fondest memories of him had been sitting in the bookstore as a little girl. Living in Barrio Norte, one of the richest areas in Buenos Aires, cost a lot – and it wasn’t just about the money. Her father worked day in and day out, six days a week from seven in the morning to seven at night. Being out the door at 5:30 AM and asleep by 9 or 10 meant that Amelio had very little time to spend with his daughter and son, Severino – Sev for short. She couldn’t deny that she appreciated all he did for the family, but Lucena did wish he were home more often. Plus, Severino really needed him - now more than ever. At 13 years old, Sev, or sometimes Rino, as she called him, was at a crucial point in his life and while their mother tried to be both mother and father to him, there were certain things that Sev needed his father for. Just this year, he had become more withdrawn and without their father around to help him through the world of growing up, Lucena was afraid Sev could fall into the wrong crowd. Maybe he was just withdrawing in general and even their father couldn’t help, but none of them would ever know if her father was never around.

As she walked toward the exit, already having switched the heavy bag to the opposite shoulder, she took in the beauty and tranquility of El Ateneo. No matter how many times she stepped through the doors, no matter how long she spent nestled in the crooks and crannies of the never-ending bookcases, she couldn’t get over the splendor of it all. A few other patrons were still in the store, so she allowed herself to linger, staring in awe at the domed ceiling, which depicted a metaphor for peace after WWI. An Italian artist named Nazareno Orlandi had painted it and as an aspiring artist, Lucena was continuously in awe at the painstaking detail and vibrant colors. Following the dome downward, she was met with the cream-colored walls, which were now bathed in gold under the slowly dimming lights. Detailed gold trimmings decorated the columns and former theater boxes – which now sported bookcase upon bookcase rather than plush, red seats. Despite the restoration having been completed around the turn of the century, the bookstore still maintained all the charm of its days as a theater and boasted an architectural style that perfectly blended European grandeur with Argentinian modernity.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and left the comfort of the bookstore to head home, reveling in the feel of the cool, summer night. A slight, damp breeze floated toward her back, coaxing her forward, past the rows and rows of modern high rises, old European architecture, shopping malls, medical offices and local parks; the green grass of suburbia stuck out like a sight for sore eyes in the midst of city life, serene ponds with floating ducks a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of people going about their days. It cost a lot to live there, but Barrio Norte really had it all, at least to her - the feeling of a big city mixed with the quaintness of suburbia. It just depended on where you went. This city had always felt like home and although it had its ups and downs, as did most places she was sure, she couldn’t have imagined a better place to live.

She sighed as she felt a drop of rain hit her eye. Buenos Aires never had a dry season, so her thick, curly, dark locks never got a break from the overwhelming humidity that always accompanied the rain; she’d hate it if she wasn’t used to it by now. Reaching for the side of her book bag, she grabbed her Edgar Allen Poe-inspired umbrella and opened it, just in time to block herself from the gentle, but steady flow of rain. As she walked, she made a mental note to jokingly complain to her mother about the repetitious weather of Argentinian summers. She’d been reading ever since she was a child, so when she was out with her family and saw the umbrella laden with quotes such as “We loved with a love that was more than love” and “With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion,” Lucena found herself obsessed with it and that Christmas it had been her favorite gift.

Another drop of rain made its way into her eyes, which was when she looked up to see a small tear in her favorite accessory. It was nearly five years old, but she was still devastated it was at its end; the umbrella was one of the most amazing gifts she’d ever gotten from her parents and it reminded her of a time when life was a little simpler and the family more connected than it had been these past few years.

She was only a block or so away from home when the rain started to pick up, along with the wind. Strong gusts pushed and pulled the umbrella every which way and when she went to push the mass of black curls out of her face, she lost her grip, gasping as the umbrella was wrenched out of her hands and dragged down the block. Not wanting to let it go, she tried her best to run after it, but the wind had become too erratic and the umbrella was now in the air, entangling itself in wires, tree branches and high-rise balconies. With a heavy heart, she turned away, heading back in the direction of home, doing her best to shield herself from the rain with her sweatshirt.

Maybe one day she would be able to find the same one and buy it herself, but even as the thought occurred to her, she knew it wouldn’t feel the same; it held too many great memories. Her only hope was that something else would make memories she could hold on to. Was it stupid that she wanted to cry? She thought so. It was just an umbrella after all, but once she talked to her mother, she’d probably tell her just what she needed to hear – that anything can carry a memory, and just because that thing is gone, doesn’t mean the memory is; it still lingers.

She turned the corner to Montevideo, only a few hundred feet from her high rise. Now covered in rain, Lucena gave up trying to shield herself, allowing the soaked hood on the saturated sweatshirt to flop off her head. The walk home and loss of her umbrella had soured her mood. It could’ve been the rain, but she swore there were tears walling up against her brown eyes, fertile as the earth being watered under her feet. All she wanted was to return the bookstore and pretend like nothing else existed, but she pushed forward, her apartment building within sight. How could an umbrella put her in so foul a mood?

Her mother’s car wasn’t visible. Had she gone out to grab something at this hour of the night? Lucena couldn’t imagine what could’ve driven her mother to leave home so late at night, except maybe tea. Their nightly ritual had become such a source of joy for the both of them that if they had run out, and she thought she remembered being down to the last few tea bags, her mother might have gone out to pick some up.

With her key already in hand, she headed up the four floors to her apartment, thankful to finally be out of the rain and away from the wind. Maybe it was the bad mood she was in, maybe it was the rain-soaked clothing or maybe it was the fact that she hated walking up stairs, but all of her limbs felt heavy. She turned the key in the lock to see Sev at home and awake, rather than her mother waiting for her in the kitchen, luminous, sleepy smile and all.

“Father’s not in bed either,” he said, looking as confused as she.

“So mama’s not home?” she asked, fearing what both parents being out of the apartment could possibly mean. One of them was always home this late at night.

Sev shook his head. “I’m scared,” he whispered, his full lips quivering underneath the peach fuzz that was his new and quickly incoming mustache. “They’re never both out at this time of night.”

She didn’t want to panic, but Sev was right. Sometimes one was out, but it had been ages since the last time she and Sev had been home alone so late at night. Not willing to accept Sev’s observation and fearing the worst, she walked around the apartment, opening doors and scanning each room, making sure that neither of them was home. Even if just one of them was home, it would be enough to make her feel better, to make the tightness in her chest go away. It was suffocating, but she had to calm herself again before meeting her brother out in the kitchen. She was the older sibling after all, and in the absence of their parents, she felt the need to be his protector - make him feel better – live up to the name Valiente; it was easier said than done.

When she finished scanning the apartment, she returned to the kitchen, willing her mother to appear at the kitchen table. But Sev was still the only one there, cracking his knuckles and pacing back and forth in front of the front door. Sev had always been the more skittish of the two of them, but right now, he was bounding back and forth almost like one of those old video games.

“They’re really not here,” Lucena said warily. “Where could they be?”

As soon as the words were spoken, the key turned in the lock and the weight on her heart lifted. They were home. All was fine. But as the door opened, she and Sev immediately knew something was wrong and her heart sank once more. Their father, Amelio, walked into the apartment soaking wet, still in the clothes he wore to work, wearing a blank expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Sev whispered, patting their father on the shoulder as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“What happened? Where is mama?” Lucena choked, the tightening in her throat threatening to cut off her ability to breathe. Without exactly knowing the answer, the tears began to well up in her eyes; nearly bursting forth when second after second, her father couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Earlier this evening, your mother said she was running out to the store,” he started, the flatness in his voice unlike anything Lucena had ever heard before. Despite Amelio’s serious and hard-working nature, he had always been animated and loving, so hearing his voice with next-to-no affect was unsettling. Without looking up from his clenched hands, he continued, “On her way back she…she got into an accident.” He looked up, glancing between his children over and over again, before tears of his own fell silently down his face. “She…” he said, his voice cracking as his head fell into his slightly calloused hands, “she was rushed to the hospital, but was gone before they got her there.”

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

What? Her mother was gone? She was only 16 years old. Her mother was only 40 – she couldn’t be gone yet. It wasn’t possible! Was it? It wasn’t fair! Lucena doubled over, clasping her stomach in searing pain, and letting the heated tears in her eyes fall to the ground. A loud screeching filled her ears. All she wanted was for it to stop. But the she realized it was the sound of her own strangled cries.

Sev dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, open-mouthed and skeptical of his father’s words. How had this happened? She needed answers, but she was unable to form words, let alone a coherent thought.

“How?” Sev asked. He wanted to say more; there was so much going on in his head, but the one word was all he could manage. When Lucena heard his question, she snapped to attention, needing to hear an answer. Needing to make sense of the here and now. Had she not known where her father was sitting and where her brother was sitting, she wouldn’t have been able to identify them; her tears flowing like a steady stream and blurring her vision.

“When she was on her way back from the store, another car was coming at her head on,” Amelio mumbled. He couldn’t even muster the strength to lift his head from his hands. “She tried to swerve to avoid them, but when she did, she drove straight into a tree. The impact was so bad that the car flipped over twice and ended up in a ditch. The doctors believe she was gone as soon as she hit the tree.” He said more steadily, as if the fact that she went quickly made up for the fact that she was taken away at only 40 years old.

“What happened to the other car?” Lucena spat angrily. How the hell could any of this be happening?

Amelio shook his head. “They don’t know. The other car and your mother didn’t hit each other, so there will be no evidence on either vehicle.”

“And they didn’t stop?!” she screamed. Her throat felt raw as the bile rose up.

“The authorities believe the person was drunk and that’s why they were on the wrong side of the road and didn’t stop.” Her father hung his head between his knees. “My Alma,” he cried. “Mi Reina…We didn’t have enough time.”

Lucena looked up, tears dried and now replaced with fuming anger. Her brother just stared at the wall, numb, unable to say anything. After a few painstakingly long minutes, during which time she felt like time had stopped and the world had ceased to exist, her father opened up his palms and gazed at its contents with a mixture of happiness and sorrow, grief and guilt.

Her limbs had felt heavy earlier on in the night – how long ago was it? Five minutes? An hour? She had no concept of time. Once she managed to convince herself to get up off the floor, her arms and legs felt even more weighed down than before – like she was tied to the floor by concrete blocks. Everything in her body told her to try and comfort her brother, but he couldn’t move; he sat there, mouth dry and eyes still filling with tears, unable to handle anyone’s emotions but his own.

Amelio began crying freely once more as he watched his children in varying degrees of shock and pain. They were far too young for this. “Lucena,” he said, opening his palm and showing her its contents, “Your mother always wanted you to have this.”

In his hand was her mother’s necklace - an ouroboros. Her mother had never gone a day without it. It was still hers. How could Lucena take it? Her mother wasn’t gone…she wasn’t…she was going to come home…right? This was all a bad dream? As Lucena reached out to take a closer look, feeling the heaviness of the pendant in the palm of her hand, she started to cry again, coating the pendant in the bitterness and sadness of a life gone too soon.

#only time will tell #original writing #literally opening up my entire fucking heart at this point #my supernatural au will bring up more of my personal feelings #but this is my personal writing #nothing to do with fandom #if you are going to say something mean please kindly fuck off #thank you :D

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Saekano the Movie: Finale – Where Scenario Ends and Reality Begins

It’s been three years since Saekano Flat, and to be honest I haven’t kept up with news about a continuation of the story. All I know is I wanted to see it end happily with Tomoya and Megumi as a couple, and however it did that was fine. So imagine my surprise and delight upon learning a full-length movie would wrap everything up!

We pick up where Flat left off: Eriri and Utaha working on Fields Chronicle with Kosaka Akane at Mazuru; while Tomoya, Megumi, Michiru and Izumi work on Blessing Software’s next game: How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend. At an after-party for Icy Tail’s first solo performance, the two Blessing Defectors show up to support their friends, but their boss Kosaka inserts herself into the festivities to berate their work and force them to redo it.

Tomoya and Megumi aren’t really a couple yet, but they might as well be. Not coincidentally, Tomoya is in a slump with regards to writing the scene in which the protagonist confesses to the main heroine. He seeks Utaha for help, but runs into Kosaka first. Kosaka laughs at his story at first, but encourages him to embrace his inner deluded otaku and “masturbate more”—literarily speaking, of course…

Around midnight before their senior year begins, Tomoya runs by his Kosaka-inspired rewrites to Megumi. The two aren’t just on the phone for hours anymore, but Skype, face to face. It’s always been so lovely to watch these two simply working together like this while also dropping hints about how they feel about one another.

While Tomoya is determined to keep a crucial scene despite Megumi’s misgivings, he obviously wants her take on the main heroine, because she’s his main heroine. No big hug or crying fit is necessary, an ordinary event is sufficient to raising her flag. Before falling asleep to his typing, well past 3 AM, Megumi and Tomoya decide that because the game’s couple will be on first-name basis from this point on, they should do the same thing.

The next day at school, Izumi is about to greet Tomoya and Megumi, but sees how close they are and doesn’t interrupt (Eriri does though, not reading the room at all). The two then decide to act out a scene at the train station where they hold hands, and by God, the way those hands are animated—so subtle and gentle and loving.

Tomoya plans another “scouting” trip to Ikebukuro for them to “gather material”, on a day he knows to be Megumi’s birthday. When she asks if that’s all they’ll be doing, he initially puts the onus on her to say what she wants, then asks her if it’s okay if it’s about more than that, she says it is; that any reason will do. Then she notes that she’s not responsible for “what might happen”, before abruptly hanging up.

Their mutual realization they were about to go on a date for her birthday, not as mere colleagues working on a game, but as a couple taking the next step, is priceless to behold. I got so caught up in the buildup of anticipation and excitement to that magical day, I forgot how much movie was left. The day arrives, Megumi is at the meeting spot in the same outfit that first inspired Tomoya, only for him to call and tell her he can’t make it.

It was like a door in my chest opened up and my heart just fell on to the floor with a gruesome splat. Thankfully, he didn’t stand her up because he chickened out, but due to circumstances outside his control. Kosaka Akane had a stroke, and since she wasn’t carrying any ID, Tomoya’s card was the closest thing to an emergency contact.

This development angered me at first because it’s precisely the kind of dramatic twist he was trying to avoid for the Main Heroine route. Due to the stroke, Kosaka can’t currently use her right hand. Utaha tries to get Tomoya not to worry about them by saying her and Eriri’s work is mostly done, but Eriri doesn’t pick up on what Utaha is trying to do, and tells Tomoya the truth: they have no idea what this means for Fields Chronicle.

With Kosaka’s old friend Iori and Utaha’s manager stepping up to fill in while she recuperates, Tomoya initially volunteers to take over Iori’s promoting and negotiating roles for Blessing, but Megumi takes that on instead, insisting he need to have his undivided attention on the scenario. Megumi accepted Tomoya’s explanation and apology, but being stood up on your birthday by the guy you love is hard blow that’s left her weary.

Turns out she has good reason to be. Iori reports back to Tomoya with some dire news: even before Kosaka’s stroke, Fields Chronicle was over a month behind schedule. Kosaka prioritized the rapid artistic growth over finishing the game on time. Now the company is prepared to make deep cuts to both story and characters in order to get something to market without further delay.

This would obviously be an intolerable compromise for Utaha and Eriri, but they both know they can’t be the ones to try to argue their case to the company. They need someone who can go to the plate and negotiate, plead, and even get on his knees and passionately beg when logical arguments fail. And there’s just one person like that who knows and believes in their work. So they make the call.

Tomoya and Megumi meet up and sit on the same bench where they tenderly held hands and blushed, only for Megumi to deduce he’s going to Osaka to help Utaha and Eriri with their game. Tomoya cites how this is Utaha and Eriri’s best and possibly only chance at achieving true greatness and living up to their potential, and he can’t stand by and let their dreams be crushed.

But Megumi points out that he’s putting those dreams and that game ahead of their dreams and their game. Unable to hold back tears, she tells Tomoya that she can’t be his main heroine anymore, and boards the next train. But Tomoyo presses on for Osaka, and eventually makes some real progress, extending their deadline and sacrificing two characters so they don’t have to eliminate five. He sends Megumi texts, but she doesn’t reply. Why should she?

With their writer and leader gone, Blessing is on hold as far as Megumi is concerned. She’s also so rightfully angry at Tomoya her heart just isn’t in it…but Michiru and Izumi eventually get her to take up the mantle of their new leader, doing what they can do in Tomoya’s stead.

Indeed, Michiru and Izumi become a lot more assertive in telling Megumi they know she and Tomoya have been dating and are now fighting. Megumi rejects their idle gossip, but something fishy is going on: Izumi is drawing Megumi during her anguish, while Iori is typing on the other end of Izumi’s Bluetooth.

Utaha and Eriri end up completing their work, but rather than celebrate, Tomoya heads home at once. After he leaves, the girls remember what they agreed on before asking Tomoya to help: that in return, they’d help him finish his game and help him make up with Megumi. This meant letting go of Tomoya as a potential romantic partner for good and letting Megumi win.

While Tomoya was in Osaka, every minute he wasn’t helping Utaha and Eriri with their game, he was still writing the scenario for his, while at the same time penning a lengthy letter attempting to describe his feelings for Megumi. When he returns home she’s waiting on his stoop, his letter in her inbox, which she describes as “disgusting”.

Megumi wants to be mad at Tomoya and doesn’t want to forgive him for what he did, but she also “doesn’t care” about any of that, because what’s most important is that she loves him. That’s why she brushes his hand away once, but not twice. The second time she keeps their hands locked, and then Tomoya beats her to it by confessing first.

Tomoya loves his 2D Main Heroine, but he loves the 3D Katou Megumi most. When she asks why, he says it isn’t out of admiration, obsession, or obligation. He’s perfectly frank in telling her she seemed more in his league as a partner than the dazzling, infinitely more talented Utaha or Eriri. Only with Megumi can he feel and act like himself and tell her what he’s really feeling.

One would think Megumi should be insulted by Tomoya’s rationale for choosing her. But in a continuation of her monologue to Michiru and Izumi, she confesses that she wants Tomoya to be hers and no one else’s. Because there’s no drama, like the other girls. Because they’re so wonderfully “normal” together. So Tomoya’s explanation passes muster.

Soon the two are locked in a hug, and when Megumi’s eyes are closed, after some hesitation Tomoya kisses her. She wasn’t quite ready, so she kisses him in turn. Finally, the two count down to have a perfectly timed third kiss. This was one of the best anime first kiss(es) scenes I’ve ever seen.

Kosaka recovers, thanking Tomoya for his help while she was out of commission and offering to read his work (and skewer it viciously) anytime. Tomoya incorporates the details of his and Megumi’s real-life mutual confession into the game and Izumi creates more art for it.

Eriri and Utaha arrive to help out and immediately insert their strong personalities into the project with abandon. When Eriri takes a break, Tomoya follows her out to apologize for…well, everything, but most importantly for what he doesn’t explicitly state: not choosing her. She takes it as well as she could be expected to, asking before heading back whether Tomoya loved her ten years ago.

Eriri then joins Megumi for a bath and briefly waterboards her in frustration, not just that she lost, but that Megumi loved Tomoya so much they made up and started dating before Eriri or Utaha could arrive to help them. After the whole gang pulls a near-all-nighter to complete the game, the two girls tuck everyone in and head out, vowing to keep running together so he can’t catch up, knowing he’ll keep chasing them regardless.

The day of Comiket arrives, and Tomoya and Megumi head to the venue hand in hand like the couple they are. Tomoya wonders if 2,000 copies was too many to print, but they sell every one, validating their hard work as well as the inspiration Megumi provided.

Tomoya and Megumi graduate from high school and return to the spot where they first met, with Megumi in her now-iconic red sweater and white cap and skirt. Roll credits!

After the credits we jump forward what looks like a couple if not a few years. Megumi is suggesting to an overworked Tomoya that they break up, since he’s stuck at his sales job so much they hardly ever see each other, and in any case suspects he still carries a flame for a certain someone. Tomoya has given up on his dreams, and while Iori hasn’t, he’s now a penniless delusional vagrant.

Just when I thought we’d reached Saekano’s “Bad Ending”, Tomoya suddenly encounters a short-haired Utaha by the waterfront, the music rises, and she’s about to start singing when Eriri snaps us out of it; this was just the visualization of a spec script for a new game half-jokingly written by Utaha. The two are in a meeting with Iori and a Tomoya who is very much living the dream of being. Glorious fake-out!

He is the president and Megumi the vice president of Blessing, now an established and successful game company. Utaha’s script hit Tomoya hard, though, so he hugs Megumi when he sees her next, and asks her to reassure him she’s not going anywhere. Of course, she does, but when Tomoya leans in to kiss, she wants to save it for when they get home.

Unfortunately, they are unable to bone when they get home, because their apartment is suddenly overrun by the talent: not just Michiru and Izumi, but Utaha and Eriri have also shown up for their first sleepover meeting in years. Tomoya and Megumi take the intrusion in stride, but Megumi makes sure to steal a kiss, in the process revealing he put a ring on it. Good lad! The six friends gather around the table for a toast to another hit from Blessing, and the curtain finally falls for good on the movie, and on Saekano.

Until I sunk my teeth into this movie, I didn’t realize how much I missed the show’s great mix of comedy, romance, drama, artistry and extremely effective fanservice. I could hardly have asked for a better, more satisfying ending than the one we got.

By: sesameacrylic

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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rockrevoltmagazine · 7 years

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INDIE BAND OF THE WEEK - AMBERSTEIN

Forming in 2013, Amberstein has started their own version of Rock & Roll. In 2014, they released their first EP, which helped them gain a festival slot at Summerfest in Milwaukee. Enjoy this interview with Amberstein, only at RockRevolt Magazine!

Who are you and what is your role in the band?

I am Andrew Farrar and I play Drums and do vocals.

I am Jake Warne and I do lead vocals and play bass.

I am Jason Paulsen and I play guitar and also do vocals.

How did the band get started?

ANDREW: Jake started a project with Ross Machurick, the band’s former guitarist. Andrew met Jake through a mutual friend in Waukesha and the group started to write music together. Meanwhile, Jason, Andrew’s best friend growing up, was serving in the US Navy stationed in Guam. After completing his term of duty, Jason returned stateside and immediately fit in as the band’s fourth and final member. After Ross took a job in Minneapolis, the band returned to its original trio glory… and the rest is history.

JAKE: I started the band in my senior year of college with a friend from my hometown (Ross Machurick, guitar). My partner at my summer job (grounds keeping on campus) went to High School and played on drumline with both Andrew and Jason. He introduced me to Andrew, who joined on drums, and when Jason came home from the Navy he got close to the band right away, playing guitar as our fourth member. Eventually the Ross moved away and Jason took over as our lead guitarist. Both Andrew and Jason are strong singers, so everything worked out perfectly to be best trio we could be, complete with 3 part harmonies.

JASON: Jake and Andrew had a blind date, and history was made.

Who are your influences and how do they play a role in your sound?

ANDREW: I am a huge fan of technical drummers like Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater and Morgan Rose of Sevendust. In addition to my background in orchestral and marching percussion, listening to these drummers play deliberate notes on their kits inspired me to make drumming as musical and emotive an art as possible.

JAKE: As a singer my biggest influences have to be Alter Bridge and Shinedown with both of their singers, Myles Kennedy and Brent Smith, having similar styles and vocal ranges to mine. I also think both of them are great songwriters with strong melodies and well written lyrics. Other favorites include Bob Dylan, Foo Fighters, Thirty Seconds To Mars, U2, and Ozzy Osbourne.

JASON: SRV, Dimebag Darrell, Doug Aldrich, Frank Hannon, so many more. They all inspired me to pick up the guitar and just keep getting better. I remember the first album I was able to play all the way through with was Tesla’s Time’s Makin’ Changes album, I was hooked at a young age. Also loved to watch videos of SRV play, and then play back to them.

What has been your most meaningful experience being in this band so far?

ANDREW: We played a show in the Dells and went out to a bar afterwards. At the bar, a fan who saw us at a previous show recognized us and approached us asking, “are you guys in that killer-trio band, Amberstein?” My heart melted…

JAKE: I think the most meaningful thing for me is seeing people sing along. Whether we’re at a tiny show with ten people, playing at the world’s largest music festival, or opening for a national headliner, nothing beats seeing people sing along with our lyrics.

JASON: Road trips in the summer of 2016, quality time with my mates.

Favorite memory from a show you’ve played or a place you’ve travelled?

ANDREW: We played a show in Green Bay Wisconsin at an awesome venue called Big and Rich. The fans there were incredible, and they really connected with our music. We played outside on probably the hottest day of the summer, and right before we went on stage, the sun set below the nearby tree-line, saving us all from having heat stroke and third-degree sunburn.

JAKE: The first time we played Maybash (Summer Music Festival in Rio, WI). As soon as our set ended, a very strong thunderstorm rolled through and everything shut down while people weathered the storm in their campsites. Instead of packing everything up and waiting it out inside of our vehicles, we lowered our merch tent as short as it goes and tied everything down the best we could. We huddled under the tent with some of our closest fans, and played card (drinking) games until the storm passed over. I don’t think any of us have ever been outside during such a strong storm in our lives, but it definitely made for a great memory.

JASON: St. Louis, MO. Playing with our friends in the band Discrepancies at Cicero’s, then the party afterwards. It was one of the best nights of my life, and I got to hang out with my best friends.

What do you hope to accomplish with your music?

ANDREW: I want to write and share songs that truly embody who I am as a person. The message of our music is one of perseverance and realizing your potential, things that I think everyone runs the risk of looking back on and feeling unfulfilled or unaccomplished.

JAKE: I want to inspire people. I want to write & sing the songs that people build memories with. I want someone to hear a song of ours and feel something. I think of the bands that I listened to growing up, and every time I hear one of their songs I’m instantly transported back to that time of my life. I want our music to do that for someone else.

JASON: I hope our music reaches out to people. I hope that it does to people what music has done for me all of my life. I don’t know where I’d be mentally without music. Scary to think about.

Something about you that no one knows?

ANDREW: I can’t tell you because then you would know.

JAKE: I don’t drive a mini-van. I drive a large vehicle that can comfortably seat up to 8.

JASON: I have really bad anxiety when changing my guitar strings/ tuning my guitars, what if it snaps and goes into my eyeball or something?

What is next for the band?

ANDREW: We are finishing up the writing process for a full length, then we plan to record the whole doggone thing.

JAKE: Right now we are obsessed with writing and planning for a full length album. Lots of other things are happening, and we’ve got a ton to look forward to, but the full length album is #1.

JASON: Writing music, and planning for a full length album in 2017

Anything else you want to add?

ANDREW: Life is too short to allow conventional measures of success to deter you from pursuing your dreams. Jump when you get the chance.

JAKE: #OccupyALocalVenue

JASON: Caffeine is the lifeblood of Amberstein

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INDIE BAND OF THE WEEK – AMBERSTEIN was originally published on RockRevolt Mag

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