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zot3-flopped · 9 days

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Sylvia Plath did not stick her head in an oven for this! When Taylor Swift took the Grammys stage last month to claim her award for Best Pop Vocal Album for Midnights, she saw that spotlight as an opportunity to announce her 11th studio album: The Tortured Poets Department. The follow-up cut to audience members—Swift’s music industry peers, mind you—told us all that we would ever need to know, and the collective disinterest across the crowd echoed through our TVs.

Folks from all walks of life took to social media to express a multitude of reactions. Swifties clamored to their beloved monarch’s forthcoming era, while others lambasted the terminally cringe title and artwork and ridiculed Swift for making a night recognizing musical achievements across an entire industry about herself—knowing perfectly well that it would send her fanbase into a surge that would, no doubt, overpower the excitement around the ceremony itself.

Quite a few people questioned whether or not that moment suggested that a critical—definitely not commercial—tide would turn against the world’s most-famous pop star. And, perhaps it has—but, to most, it will look like nothing more than a single ripple in Swift’s ocean of successes.

Swift remained relatively hush-hush about The Tortured Poets Department up until its release, leaving her fans, admirers and haters alike with nothing but an album title to ponder about. And it’s a bad title.

If you have never been in Swift’s corner, her taking the route of labeling her next “era” as “tortured” was likely catnip for your disinterest. If you are a fan—not necessarily a Swiftie, but even just a casual lover of her best and brightest work—you might be beside yourself about the first Swift album title longer than one word in 14 years.

In terms of popularity—certainly not always in terms of quality—no musician has been bigger this century than Swift, which makes it impossible to really buy into the “torture” of it all.

This is not to say that Swift being the most famous person in the world makes her immune to having multi-dimensional feelings of heartbreak, mental illness or what-have-you.

But, she has made the choice—as a 34-year-old adult—to take those complex, universal familiars and monetize them into a wardrobe she can wear for whatever portion of her Eras Tour setlist she opts to dedicate to the material.

Torture is fashion to Taylor Swift, and she wears her milieu dully. This album will surely get comparisons to Rupi Kaur’s poetry, either for its simplicity, empty language, commodification or all of the above.

And, sure, there are parallels there, especially in how The Tortured Poets Department, too, is going to set the art of poetry back another decade—as Swift’s naive call-to-arms of her own milky-white sorrow rings in like some quintessential “I am going to take pictures of a typewriter on my desk and have a Pinterest mood-board of Courier New font” iPhone fodder. 2013 called and it wants it capricious, suburban girl-who-is-taking-a-gap-year wig back!

Soaking our book reports in coffee or having our moms burn the edges with a kitchen lighter cannot come back into fashion; the cyclical notions of culture cannot make the space for such retreads.

There is nothing poetic about a billionaire—who, mind you, threatens legal action against a Twitter account for tracking her destructive private jet paths—telling stadiums of thousands of people every night that she sees and adores them.

Tavi Gevinson says it well in her Fan Fiction zine: “When 80,000 people are also crying, you become less special, too.” If Swift can return to one of her dozen beach houses across the world, kick up her feet and say “I’m a poet of struggle,” then who is to say that millions—maybe billions—of people with access to a notes app and a social media account won’t dream that dream, too?

Maybe that looks like a net-positive, but it’s inherently damning and destructive to take an art form that has long stood on the shoulders of resistance, of love and of opposition to power, systematic injustice and climate warfare and boil it down to the new defining era of your own 10-digit revenue empire. “My culture is not your costume,” yada, etc.

The Tortured Poets Department does begin with a shred of hope that, just maybe, Swift knows what she’s talking about—as she sneaks in a cheeky “all of this to say,” textbook transitional phrasing for poets, on opening track “Fortnight.”

But “Fortnight” unmasks itself quickly as a heady vat of pop nothingness, though it isn’t all Swift’s fault. “I was a functioning alcoholic, ‘til nobody noticed my new aesthetic,” she muses, attempting to bridge the gap between a behind-the-scenes life and on-stage performance—only for it to occur while propped up against the most dog-water, uninspired synth arrangement you could possibly imagine.

Between producer Jack Antonoff’s atrocious backing instrumental and the Y2K-era, teen dramedy echo chamber of a vocal harmony provided by out-of-place guest performer Post Malone, “Fortnight” chokes on the vomit of its own opaqueness.

“I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary,” Swift muses, and it sounds like satire. This is your songwriter of the century? Open the schools.

The Tortured Poets Department title-track features some of Swift’s worst lyricism to-date, including the irredeemable, relentlessly cringe “You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate, we declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist / I scratch your head, you fall asleep like a tattooed golden retriever” lines glazed atop some synthesizers and drums that just ring in as hollow, unfascinating costuming.

Aside from the Puth nod, which I can only discern as a joke (given the fact that he is one of the 150-most streamed artists in the world and is one of the blandest pop practitioners alive—I don’t care if he can figure out the pitch of any sound you throw at him), I think Antonoff should stick to guitar-playing. Get that man away from a keyboard, I’m begging you.

Synths can be, if you use them correctly, one of the most emotional and provocative instruments in any musician’s tool-box. There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story. That is simply not the case here, and that electronica hangs Swift out to dry when she drags us through the lukewarm “I laughed in your face and said, ‘You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith’ / This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel, we’re modern idiots” lines, only to hit us with a softly sung F-bomb that sounds like a billionaire’s rendition of that one Miranda Cosgrove podcast clip.

I used to rag pretty heavily on Reputation—mostly because I thought (and still do, mostly) that it sounded like Swift had given up on making interesting, progressive pop music; that, in the wake of her (arguably) best album, 1989, it seemed like she’d lost the plot on where to go next. But as she’s put out Midnights and The Tortured Poets Department back-to-back, I find myself clamoring for the Reputation-era more than ever—at least seven years ago, Swift wrote songs like she had something to prove and even more to lose.

That was the always-obvious charm of Reputation, even despite the downsides—that she took a big swing from the echelons of her own musical immortality, that the comforts of winning every award and selling out the biggest venues in the world were no longer pillowing her aspirations. Even though that swing didn’t land, she still made it in the first place—and Swift is at her best either when she is clawing upwards (Reputation) or faced with nowhere to go but into the studio and noodle with the bare-bones of her own sensibilities (folklore).

You get something like The Tortured Poets Department when the artist making it no longer feels challenged, where she strikes out looking.

The mid-ness of The Tortured Poets Department will not be a net-loss for Swift. She will sell out arenas and get her streams until she elects to quit this business (a phrase decidedly not in her vocabulary, surely).

She will sell more merch bundles than vinyl plants have the capacity to make, and rows of variant LP copies will haunt the record aisles of Target stores just as long as Midnights has—if not longer.

Perhaps, in five or six years’ time, we will speak of this record just as we now do of Reputation. But right now, it is obvious that Swift no longer feels challenged to be good. The Tortured Poets Department is the mark of an artist now interested in seeing how much their empire can atone for the sins of mediocrity.

Can Swift win another Album of the Year Grammy simply because she released a record during the eligibility period? The Tortured Poets Department reeks of “because I can,” not “because I should.”

On “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can),” Swift tries stepping into the shoes of the country renegades who came before her—the Tammy Wynettes and Loretta Lynns of the world. But her self-aggrandizing inflation of importance, glinting through via a seismically-bland bridge, is backed by a minimal set dressing of guitar, drum machine and keys.

“Good boy, that’s right, come close,” she sings. “I’ll show you Heaven if you’ll be an angel—all mine. Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man. No, really, I can.” On “Florida!!!,” Swift calls upon Florence + the Machine to help her sing the worst chorus of 2024: “Florida is one hell of a drug / Florida, can I use you up?”

Even Welch, who is a fantastic pop singer-songwriter in her own right, delivers a grossly watery verse: “The hurricane with my name, when it came I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.”

Not even the typos on the Spotify promotional materials for this album could have foretold such offenses. I won’t even get into the sonics, because Antonoff just rewrites the same soulless patterns every time.

What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this).

On The Tortured Poets Department, there is a striking level of moral nothingness. The stakes are practically non-existent, and the album sounds like it was made by someone who believes that they had no other choice but to finish it, as if Swift fundamentally believes that her creative measures are firmly embedded in the massive monopoly her name and brand currently hold on popular music. That’s how you get meandering pop songs about hookups, wine moms, Stevie Nicks comparisons, Jehovah’s Witness suit mentions, hollowed-out, tone-deaf nods to white-collar crime in lieu of empowerment and, topically, Barbie dolls.

(Don’t even get me started on the Anthology lyrics, which feature these absolute barn-burners: “Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto” and “My friends used to play a game where / We would pick a decade / We wished we could live in instead of this / I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists / And getting married off for the highest bid.”) This album and its hackneyed grasps at relevance exist as “Did I just hear that?” personified, but in the most derogatory sense of the notion.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” features another low-point in Swift’s lyrical oeuvre, as she sings “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens, ‘cause he took me out of my box”—perhaps a measure of her capitalizing on the Barbenheimer mania that none of us could escape, not even the musician who spent most of 2023 flying across the world from one country to another.

But you, us, the listener—we want to believe that Swift makes these records because she has the artistic will, drive and interest to continue giving us parts of her story in such ways that they exist as an archival of her life.

But the problem is that, on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift is packaging her life into a form that is easily consumable for the 17 or 18 years olds who pour over her music. Just because her Eras Tour film is on Disney+ doesn’t mean she has to strip her songwriting (which we know can be, and has been, phenomenal) down for the sake of it being digestible by a wide spectrum of ages.

And, sure, maybe that makes the work accessible. But on The Tortured Poets Department, Swift makes Zoomer jargon her bag—titling a song after one of the most popular video games in the world and conjuring flickers of “down bad” and “I can fix him”—and it feels like she’s cosplaying because the Fountain of Youth was out of order.

Now that Swift is in her 30s, it sounds like she is infantilizing her own audience more than ever before—that singing to them at a level that could force them to reckon with something more akin with adulthood would be some kind of kink in the coil or her consumeristic threshold, that writing lyrics that sound like they were penned by a 30-year-old would, somehow, deter the interests of the billions of people who adore her.

If making one, continuous coming-of-age album is what Swift has been doing for 15 years, folklore and evermore were hiccups in the timeline—existing as the most fully-formed renderings of Swift’s own insecurities and concerns. They mirrored our platitudes towards an uncertain future with sweet, stirring remarks about isolation and heartbreak and the unavoidable, hard-worn truth about getting older. On those records, her larger-than-life living seemed, for once, to truly feel as close to the ground as ours.

Now, though, Taylor Swift is at the top of the mountain. Far better artists have made far worse records than The Tortured Poets Department, but you can’t read between the lines of this project. There is nothing to decipher from a place of quality.

Sure, Swift’s fan base will pour over these lyrics for the rest of their lives—insisting they know, for certain, which song is about who. But you cannot place a bad album on the shoulders of lore and expect it to be rectified.

We are now left at a crossroads. Women can’t critique Swift because they’ll run the risk of being labeled a “gender traitor” for doing so. Men can’t critique her because they’ll be touted as “sexist.”

And, sure, Swift is probably too easy a punching bag in this case—and most of the time, I would argue she is undeserving of being a victim of such barbs. But, you cannot write about someone being a “tattooed golden retriever” and get away with it and still retain your title as the best songwriter of your generation. You just cannot.

Sisyphus should be glad he never got the boulder to the top of the mountain—because Taylor Swift is showing us that such immortality and success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. And, when you’re standing on the peak alone, who else is there left to hit?

In a recent interview with The Standard, Courtney Love said that Swift is “not interesting as an artist,” and I think The Tortured Poets Department proves as much. She has nothing to fight for, no doubters left to drown.

So where does she turn? Well, to boredoms of celebrity thinly veiled as sorrow everyone and their mother can latch onto—because we’ve all had to “ditch the clowns, get the crown” at some point in our lives, right?

The billionaire is having an identity crisis, but there are no social media apps for her to buy up. So she sings like Lana Del Rey and writes meta-self-referential songs about looking like Stevie Nicks.

What’s hollow about The Tortured Poets Department is that the real torture is just how unlivable these songs really are. No one can resonate with “So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record, scratch as I scream ‘Who’s afraid of little old me?’ You should be.” And normally, that wouldn’t be an end-all-be-all for a pop record—but when your brand is built on copious levels of “I’m just like you!” as the demigod saying it to their fans does so from a multi-million-dollar production set, it’s hard to not feel nauseated by the overlording, overbearing sense of heavy-handed detritus we’re tasked with sifting through on The Tortured Poets Department.

Love’s words to Lana, her advice to “take seven years off,” should be applied to Swift. Now, that doesn’t mean that, to make a good album, you must sit on material for years and labor extensively through the sketching, shaping and recording in order for it to be transcendentally landmark. But it’s obvious now that not even Taylor Swift wants to be the head of an empire—that she, too, can’t outrun the damning fate of being plum out of ideas by hopping in her jet and skirting off to God knows where.

See you at the Grammys.

****

#this review is everything #anti taylor swift #taylor swift #travis kelce #3.6 !!!#hope Pitchfork comes for her too #jack antonoff #taylor swift reviews #the department of tortured poets

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kamisatomay018 · 5 months

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Playtime with the Otters

Neuvillette x fem!reader

Lots and lots of fluff! And yes I know many people must’ve written fics on this topic but I wanted to give it a go as well! Hope you all enjoy!<3

Also the artwork is not mine, all credits go to the original owner!

There you stood, with your lover’s face buried in your stomach, his arms clinging onto you around your waist while you caressed his long locks. You were both alone in the Opera Epiclese, and as usual, a hard trial had left your husband very upset, prompting you to come visit him to help him feel better. You loved how he was never afraid of being vulnerable around you, how the rain would always slow down and stop the moment he saw your figure walking past the grand doors to the courtroom. You massaged his head, gently caressing his horns making him hum in satisfaction. “Feeling better now love?”

He smiles softly, nodding and looks up at you with those devastatingly beautiful siren eyes of his, your presence having brought back life into them. “Yes Mon Amour, I cannot thank you enough..” You giggled softly, placing a sweet kiss on his forehead “Since when did we start having such formalities between us hm?” He laughs at your words, the gentle yet heartwarming sounds of his laughter bouncing off the walls of the rather depressing courtroom, filling it with joy. The dark clouds were long gone, and gentle rays of sunshine had begun to seep through the fluffy clouds.

“You’re right Cherie…but I do not wish to part with you so soon. I have plenty of free time, can you please stay with me some more?” Oh archons, how could you ever say no to those pleading eyes of his? Your smile brightened as you nodded, an idea already coming to mind. “I’d love to spend more time with you Neuvi! How about we go for a swim hm? It’s been so long since we’ve done that!” Neuvillette’s eyes softened as sweet memories swarmed into his mind like the tides, reminding him of your beautiful past; of the day he first saw you.

As the Hydro dragon, being in water always calmed him down, he would dive into the deepest depths of Fontaine’s oceans after a difficult trial to clear his mind. Besides, the melusine’s village was also underwater, and he’d spend a lot of time with them. On one such fateful day, as he swam towards the depths of the salacia plains, he saw a beautiful young girl examining a shipwreck ever so carefully, analysing every single scratch and dent on the broken pieces of the ship. That person was you, Fontaine’s leading historian and archaeologist who had been awarded and recognised by many for your hard work and dedication towards piecing together the history of this land.

Neuvillette was surprised by your bravery, for the depths of the salacia plains were dangerous and eerie, and no human would willingly come close to them. But here you were, seemingly enthralled by the historical evidence in front of you. He also noticed a Hydro vision glowing around your waist, which explained why you were so unafraid of the depths of these waters. However, Neuvillette’s eyes had widened as he saw a few enraged seals swim your way, ready to attack you. Without him even realising, he swiftly swam towards you, protecting you from the attack and using his hydro powers to harmlessly deflect the seals, making them retreat.

You on the other hand, were utterly surprised by what happened. You turned around and to your bewilderment, the Chief Justice himself was in front of you, protecting you from the seals’ attacks. To say that you were flustered was an understatement. Ah how embarrassed you were! Your cheeks had flushed pink, as you timidly thanked the Iudex, apologising for troubling him. But what you didn’t know that just by looking into your ocean blue eyes, Neuvillette’s heart immediately told him that he had found his mate, his partner for life. And ever since that day, he always found some way or the other to meet you, and you noticed how friendly the melusines had become around you. One thing led to another, and you both fell deeply in love.

Ever since then, both of you would often go to dive into the depths of Fontaine’s oceans together, collecting seashells, starfish and ancient relics together. Sometimes you would take him to multiple ruins underwater, explaining the history behind them and he would listen to you, completely enthralled by your knowledge and research abilities. Swimming in these oceans had deepened your love far beyond the deepest depths of the oceans of Teyvat.

And now, to hear you suggest that you both swim together made Neuvillette happier than ever, making him readily agree. Anything for his love. His heart skipped a beat as he heard your giggles, the big smile on your lips tempting him to kiss you, which is exactly what he did. You gasped softly, but immediately reciprocated the soft action of pure love. Neuvillette was clingy by nature, and it was your favourite thing ever. He would kiss you out of the blue, always hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and hum the tunes of the oceans to lull you to sleep. He was the sweetest husband ever.

As you both parted, he held you hand, intertwining your fingers together as you walked outside the now empty Opera House, heading straight towards the ocean. The rain was long gone, and a beautiful rainbow decorated the skies, illuminated on the gentle surface of the waters. You both dived in together, your vision glowing as you both felt so content. You decided to head towards the salacia plains, as that place held the best memories you both had ever made.

As you both were swimming towards the depths, neuvillette felt your hand slip away from his, making him frown. He looked towards your direction and saw you swimming towards what looked like a cage. He followed immediately, not wanting you to come to harm. What you both saw upon reaching the sight broke your heart. Inside the cage was an otter, looking afraid and trying to get out, and outside the cage was another otter, probably his partner, whimpering in agony as she couldn’t help her partner out of the cage. They joined their little paws through the bars of the cage, seeming so distressed.

“Neuvi..look at these poor otters! How could someone trap such an innocent animal! Come on, we’ve got to help them!” Your worried voice spoke, making him nod. Indeed, it was most cruel to trap such beings in these cages. You swam closer to the otters, alerting them both as they were afraid you had come to harm them. “It’s okay, I don’t mean you any harm, I promise..I’m gonna help your partner get out okay?” You spoke in your soft voice, but of course, the otters couldn’t understand. Neuvillette then swam next to you, and you saw the way the otters instantly relaxed, the free one even approaching him, tilting her tiny head as she swam backwards towards his horns, making happy noises.

Your heart melted at the sight, and you laughed in delight. “Neuvi, you and the otters look so much alike!! They think you’re one of them!” Although puzzled, Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head softly knowing that you would never let this incident die down. And quite frankly, he wouldn’t mind because your happy giggles were his favourite melody. Taking this chance, he swam towards the cage, examining it. “Hmm..mon amour, I think we need to search for a key to open this lock. I’m afraid we cannot use our powers to break this open as it might hurt the poor otter trapped inside.” You nodded at his words “Alright, you stay here with them, I’ll be right back with the key!” He turned towards you, tenderly kissing your forehead. “Be careful, and if any danger comes to you, immediately call for me hm?” You gave him that oh so sweet smile of yours, nodding. “I will, you have my word.”

With that, you swam away, searching for a key. After around 10 minutes of searching, you found a metal key buried in the sand, picking it up and went back to your husband. “Alright, I’ve found a key, let’s hope it’s the right one!” Neuvillette took the key, and to your delight, the cage opened, making the otters immediately hold hands and hug each other, their snouts rubbing together in tender affection. Meanwhile you and Neuvillette both smiled happily at the sight, holding each other’s hands out of habit. “Oh this is so precious Neuvi!” “Indeed Mon amour, I’m glad we could rescue the otter.”

The otters then looked at you both, noticing the way you were holding hands, just like them. In their eyes, Neuvillette already looked like them, so perhaps you were his mate! They swam towards you both happily, expressing their gratitude. You laughed happily as the otters surrounded Neuvillette, examining his horns in glee. “Aaaww if only I had a Kamera with me, I’d capture this moment! You sure you’re the hydro dragon Neuvi? Because you clearly look more like these adorable otters!” You teased your husband, a playful glint in your eyes. Your husband laughs at your words, shaking his head as he snakes his hands around your waist, spinning you around. “Someone’s having a lot of fun hm?” He spoke with a playfully threatening tone, yet his voice was so full of love and adoration for you.

While you both were busy being playful, the otters had returned, this time with the sweetest little surprise for you both. Your eyes shined happily as they gave you both beautiful pink seashells, glittering under the soft sunlight from above. “Oh these are so beautiful!!” “Sweetheart, look..” Your husband’s gentle voice made you look in front of you, and your heart melted into the biggest puddle ever. Two tiny baby otters were surrounding their father who was previously trapped, and then swimming towards you and Neuvillette, booping their tiny snouts with your noses as an innocent little gesture of gratitude. “Aaaww they’re a family! Oh Neuvi this is so sweet..” He smiled too, nodding as he held you close to him, all his stress long forgotten. “It really is..and one day, we’ll come back here to visit them, with our own family..” Your cheeks flushed pink as you looked at your husband, nodding happily. “Yes, yes we will..”

5 Years Later..

Both you and Neuvillette watched with big smiles and warm eyes, as your tiny 4 year old twins played with the otters in Salacia Plains, the very family of otters you both had rescued 5 years ago. Neuvillette’s dragon powers granted his kids the freedom of swimming in the water, and to his delight, both your children had inherited one particular draconic feature of his: his beautiful blue horns. Your daughter had beautiful white locks like her father, while your son had your shining brown hair. They were such darlings, and the day the two of them were born, all of Fontaine had celebrated. The sun had shone brightly, a big beautiful rainbow adorned the skies while all the creatures underwater celebrated the arrival of two new hydro dragons.

Like their parents, your kids were deeply connected to the waters of Fontaine, and both you and Neuvillette would often take them on swims. And now here you all were, watching with joy as your kids played with the otters, finding shiny shells and little wonders buried underneath the sand. As neuvillette held you close and watched his little dragons grow and play, he swore he had never been this happy. And he knew that he would always protect this happiness, his family. With you three, he was complete. With his family, he was at peace. And these very depths of Fontaine were your family’s safe place, and the keeper of all your memories together.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin fanart #genshin imagines #neuvilette x you #genshin impact neuvilette #neuvillette fluff #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette otter #genshin fluff

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evermore-grimoire · 1 year

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The Evermore Grimoire: Mermaids of the Seven Seas

The Atlantic Mermaids are a pod of mermaids who live in the stormy seas of the Atlantic Ocean and just like the Arctic Mermaids, have done so for centuries. They have beautiful tails that reflect the deep blue tones of the ocean they call home, and wear a variety of headpieces (such as tiara’s, crowns and diadems) made of shells found on the seabed. Harnessed with the power of Atmokinesis, the Atlantic Mermaids can conjure up a ferocious storm in an instant if anyone dares to underestimate them. Thus making the Atlantic Ocean a trecherous sea to venture in. They’re also incredibly loyal to their own kind, but only when it suits them. During the war between Mermaids and Mermen, the Atlantic Mermaids were the ‘saving grace’ thanks to their Queen who rallied together every member in the pod and created one the most brutal storms the Atlantic Ocean had ever seen. Despite the storm ‘turning the tide’ in the war, it also came at a great cost that changed the hierarchy within every mermaid pod forever. Including the relations within their own pod, resulting in some mermaids breaking away and forming a new pod elsewhere in the ocean. In spite of everything, these mermaids are considered the most powerful because if another war ever arose their and loyalty would be instrumental in the survival of all Merfolk as well as their place within the magical world.

original artwork by Vlad Stankovic

#My Mythology #FantasyEdit #MermaidEdit #Mermaids #Atlantic Mermaids #Mermaids of the Seven Seas #My Edit

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rolloollor · 1 month

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Chapter six of my mallerollo fic, Bound by Briar, is out!

This time, we get a wonderfully ethereal piece of Malleus from haixindhua! They've been working hard on the artwork for this fic and it really shows!

This chapter is one of the reasons I wrote this fic in general. It's kind of long (6k), but hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it~

Summary of the fic under the cut:

Doomed soldier Rollo Flamme finds himself trapped in the clawed clutches of Malleus Draconia. Without any weapons, he must rely on his wits to land a blow against the fae that would turn the tide of the war. This requires time. But the more days that pass, the more that foul dragon exploits Rollo's vices.

Malleus Draconia has no regrets about plucking Flamme from the battlefield, human though he may be. He makes for a charming pet, one that needs no one but himself...

#mallerollo #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #twisted wonderland #twst #fanfiction

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starsh0cked · 3 months

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okay so. two things!! first of all, over the course of january (and the beginning of february) i participated in the kirby oc secret santa, which was wonderfully hosted by @/moonverc3x. i was lucky enough to be the santa for @/starflungwaddledee, and ended up with two of my best pieces so far!!

these were CHALLENGING, though. which is where the second thing comes in!! under the cut, i'll be going over some of the sketches, drafts and phases of either piece! there's also a speedpaint. exciting!!

i'll be starting with my starstruck piece! the theme here was wanderlust - literally one of the most whimsical words i know - and generally anything to do with the stars. i had a few things in mind, but considering how long it sometimes takes to make artwork, i decided to roll with what inspired me the most.

this is the final sketch compared to the final artwork. certainly one of the crazier transformations i've done. i had a mental image of most parts of the artwork, from the material of starstruck's bow to the lighting cast by the stars. everything except for the grass (i hate grass!!) i ended up rendering the grass and background first, anyway.

doing the background before the rest of the artwork helps define the lighting and shadows! if i decided to draw starstruck before the background, i'd have to draw it according to the lighting.

weird explanation, but in summary: background before character helps the character look like a part of the environment! character before background means extra steps need to be taken before the character fits in the environment!

starstruck's bow was also a decent challenge! i'm a fan of bows and satin, so a satin bow sounded like a good idea. it was, but i've never drawn satin before. the workaround was an active satin study! i stared at a satin bow i found on pinterest and tried to understand how light spread over the material. it's quite interesting!!

you might notice that i flipped the direction of the shooting stars. this is for composition reasons!! i wanted to make starstruck the obvious focus, and while the contrast between her warmer palette and the background's cooler palette easily achieve that, i wanted to cement it. i also added little hand drawn sparklies everywhere. because i like it.

of course, i have to talk about the eyes!! if anything, i noticed that in all of starflung's drawings of starstruck, she had really glittery eyes. literally adorable. so i made it my mission to capture her feelings in her eyes!! i had a lot of fun making them super shiny and adding little stars in there. i also needed to pay attention to the subtle gradient, though - they fade from blue to pink if you zoom into starflung's artworks - and decided to keep it vibrant.

okay. thats all for this one!! i'd like to mention that in the original sketch for this specific pose, bandee was in the background. i really regret scrapping that now. oh, well!

time for morpho dee! i'll be starting for with the speedpaint for this one, mainly because it sort of explains some of the process by itself.

i restarted the shading... three or four times at least? so yeah. i was losing it on this piece. i'll be completely honest, i contemplated dropping it for the sake of meeting the deadline. it wasn't stressing me out, but i had studies to worry about too, and i was worried that it wouldn't be of great quality? but after some advice from my beloved older sister, i managed to turn the tide!!

this is a first for me, but everything here was a challenge. if you scroll through my account and the few artworks i've posted, you'll notice that i draw gijinkas far more than orbs. now, you may be wondering why this didn't pose so much of an issue for my starstruck piece! it's mainly because i chose a far simpler pose for her than i did for morpho over here.

for morpho, the artwork needed to be dramatic. i draw cutesy things - while i've always wanted to draw something dramatic, i've never pushed myself to do it. until this artwork! i went for a dynamic pose which would (hopefully) pull the viewer's eye towards morpho dee. that's what's up with the foreshortned spear! i also realised that the plcement of his feet would be quite significant to the artwork. you might not know this, but feet are my greatest enemy. i'm still trying to figure out how best to draw them for people or orbs, but i'm getting there.

after 'lineart' (which really ended up being a cleaned sketch - this was supposed to be linelessly rendered, but i gave up on that) the pose was no longer a problem. because the shading was! hooray!!

nothing has quite bewildered me like metal shading has. i've shaded gold. satin. cotton, fluffy scarves, shiny things, grass. yet metal shading continues to elude me! this was, hands down, the most difficult part of this artwork. i struggled to make sense of how the lighting was supposed to work, even with references. and every time i thought it made sense, i ended up with something i didn't like the look of. the solution? long breaks, more references and pinterest tutorials. i have no clue how i managed this, but we got here anyways. i finished it off by colouring the lineart according to the shading.

i have experience with drawing fire, at least! it was three or four years ago in an old artwork, but i have experience! i simply had to figure out how to work it into the atmosphere. for the glow, i duplicated the layer, gaussian blurred it and used a slight glow layer! i did something similar for the durst particles, but i used motion blur instead.

i also want to talk about the spear a little bit. you might notice that i added a bit of ambient glow around the blue gem. that was with the light intensity in mind, but also for a sense of realism! i also had to keep the pink light in mind, though. so i ended up using an airbrush to create a base for the lighting and i continued from there. i added a few scratches on the handle just to give it a bit more life, too.

and, finally, a one-to-one comparison between the sketch and the final! i have literally no idea how i pulled either of these pieces off, but i'm quite proud of them.

i recommend you drop by @/kirbyoc-secretsanta for other artworks! a total of 75 artists participated, so there are plenty of super cool ocs to adore over there and new artists to find!! this was my first secret santa experience, and @/moonverc3x made an amazing host (thank you for hosting, by the way!!) bye bye!!

#kirby #digital art #starstruck dee #morpho dee #sorry to everyone who thought this was short. and sorry to everyone who reblogs this #it really wasn't supposed to be so long but i had a lot to talk about #i'm pretty sure i've covered everything though #but these were a thrill to make!!#i've always wanted to make fanart for starflung because her characters are so cool and unique #so i was hoping to get her in the santa and. somehow i did #yeah i screamed when that happened. heehee #but!! i'll probably try to participate in more events like this!! this was super fun!!#i literally cannot thank moon enough for being such a great host #i'm generally a nervous person when it comes to talking online but moon was quite warm and sociable!!#this was an exciting first time for me!!#glitter in my ink

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metamorphmigus · 10 months

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“Did you, pull me to land?” The gentle ebb and flow of each wave caressed Edgar’s body, trying to push him further ashore. He wasn’t out of the water yet, at least not entirely. The shallows were calm, the sounds of colliding waves on the rocks and nearby cliffside the only indication of rougher tides.

“No, I just have the disturbing hobby of beaching myself,” Scriabin countered with a roll of his eyes. As Edgar looked up into his shining face, he could tell the fish looked a little worn out. His pale skin flushed from the effort.

“Well if you did, thank you,” Edgar countered softly, reaching up to brush the back of his hand over his cheek. The biting remark died on Scriabin’s lips, head tilting into the gentle caress. Instead his lips turned up in a charming smile.

“Yea, well you have a dangerous weakness for the sea. Someone has to keep you above water,” he countered haughtily. Edgar let out a voiceless laugh, conceding the point. His throat burned from swallowing seawater, but his lungs were clear, a miracle in and of itself.

“I’m lucky you happened along then. I was a goner for sure,” Edgar managed as his knuckles brushed over the smooth scales that freckled Scriabin’s cheeks.

“Right. You would have been fish food if I hadn't passed by when I had,” Scriabin said, his eyes averting slightly. “What were you even doing up on that cliff?”

“Trying to make a smoke signal,” Edgar replied, his hand falling to rest on his chest. “But it didn’t work.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. Guess you’ll be stuck here a while then,” Scriabin said, his tail flaring before slapping into the water, belying his excitement. Edgar blinked in time to stop the water from the splash getting in his eyes, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Probably. Gotta admit, dying alone on a deserted island wasn’t exactly how I thought I’d go,” Edgar admitted.

“There are worse ways, human."

-Excerpt from Rip Tide, a Vargas au

Vargas and Scriabin specifically owned by @zarla-s

Art collaborated with @cherry-207 Thank you so much for helping me to revive this idea. The artwork is brilliant and a wonderful way to ruminate on the story.

#rip tide #vargas #scriabin #edgar vargas #zarla #mermaids #sailors #more excerpts #at this rate I'll have a chapter to kick out in no time haha #exciting things in the works #cherry-207

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lordoftherazzles · 2 years

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CHAPTER 1 ↳ NOW ON AO3!

As The Tide Turns by LordOfTheRazzles

Life in Hobbiton had always been rather quiet. It was isolating and lonely, even if the streets were stuffed full leaving you bumping elbows with your neighbors. Perhaps it wasn’t so lonely for everyone else, but for Bilbo Baggins, it felt as if he were suffocating. It had been some years since his dear mother passed away, buried next to his father somewhere within the Shire’s cemetery, and that’s when Bilbo truly felt more alone in a busy seaside town than he ever had before.

Belladonna Took had been an imaginative sort, always indulging in Bilbo’s wild ideas and studies, encouraging him to chase after whatever dreams he may have, for there was only one life to live. There was the idea that Bilbo might disappoint his father, a wealthy and successful cartographer who had passed a few years before Belladonna had. He was a lovely man, make no mistake, but the expectations laid upon Bilbo’s shoulders as a young lad had only added to what kept the boy rooted in a stuffy and unimaginative town.

If it was peace and quiet you favored, Hobbiton was perfect. Nothing ever changed, saved for the occasional traveler, but it made for a dreadfully boring life.

Bilbo’s fascination with the idea of adventure and traveling is what had led him to an obsession–most called him odd or mad anyway, so why bother trying to conceal the evidence? He was a ‘researcher’ if you asked him, a bloody bookworm if you asked others, obsessing over the legendary tale of Durin the Deathless and his lost treasure. It was a tale that Belladonna introduced him to, and it was something that he had never been quite willing to let go of, even after her demise.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bilbo #thorin #thorin x bilbo #hobbit fic #hobbit fanfic #bagginshield fic #pirate!au #the company of thorin oakenshield #razzywrites #fic: as the tide turns #banner artwork by stardryad!

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amor1st03 · 1 year

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These Are a Few of My Favourite Things | Han Jisung

Han Jisung x reader

established realtionship, just a short little drabble I made while I’m working on some other stuff

warnings: none, I don’t think, except one extremely brief mention of Jisung feeling anxious

word count: 0.8k

in which: we learn about Jisung’s favourite things

Skz masterlist

Jisung loved your eyes.

They had been the first thing he noticed about you. They were beautiful, of course, but what really made him love them so much was the kindness they held. And once he had gotten to know you he realized it was true what they say; the eyes are a window into the soul.

He loved the way your eyes lit up when they landed on him. He loved the crinkles that would appear when you smiled. He could hardly believe he could get these types of reactions from you. He didn't think he deserved it, not from you.

The way they sparkled at him, he could've sworn when the universe was made there had been two extra stars up there in the night sky which had been stolen and put into the twinkle of your eyes. Put there by who or what, he wasn't sure, but he wanted to thank them regardless.

If it was up to him he would spend the rest of eternity staring into your sparkling eyes. Cliche and cringy, he told himself, and yet, he knew it was true. Because you didn't just hold stars in your eyes, he saw a whole cosmos. Suns and moons and planets and galaxies, all in one person. And he had the privilege of getting to catch a glimpse of this every time he looked into those beautiful eyes.

Jisung loved your smile.

That special, toothy grin you saved just for him. His favourite pastime was getting you to smile. Because it really was a sight to behold.

He watched you one time as you carefully applied lipstick. You turned to smile at him once you were done. The fireworks set off in his stomach were a common occurrence by now but he'd never get used to them.

All the artwork in the world and your smile alone had put them all to shame. Because you were like artwork to him. Something so beautifuly crafted, full of love and emotion. He was certain that you would've been the muse to all the great artists of the world if they had ever had the pleasure of meeting you. But no, they had never gotten the chance. Jisung almost pitied them for it but felt far too proud and lucky to be the one to be this close to you instead. Selfish, he had called himself, but so goddamn lucky.

You instead became his muse, as was evident by the countless songs he had written for you that were pinned to his walls. Some of the better ones were on your own walls after he had gifted them to you.

Jisung loved your hands.

The way they would softly play with his hair while his head rested on his lap, the two of you watching some movie or other. He never knew what the two of you were watching. He was too focused on the gentle touches to his head and the chills that were sent down his spine. Too focused on the way your hands moved through his hair like a gentle breeze. He would soon find himself drifting off to sleep.

He loved the way they would entwine with his own, fitting so perfectly together, like two halves of a locket. The way this would calm him when he was feeling anxious. The gentle stroke of your thumb on his skin moved back and forth like a steady tide, washing a sense of calmness over him.

He loved the way your hands cupped his face as you kissed him. The warmth of your palms almost matching that of his blushing cheeks. Your hands were so soft against his skin and you cupped his face so delicately as if he were made of china. With how weak he was around you he thought maybe he would shatter one day. Because how was it possible for him to feel so much emotion and not completely crumble into your arms? But that would be okay because he knew you would catch him.

These were just a few of his favourite things about you but most importantly he loved how they perfectly matched the person you were, the person he fell in love with every single day. Everything was caring and soft and sweet and beautiful. He knew nothing was perfect but you were as near as anyone would ever get to it.

He could've probably written a book longer than the bible about all the things he loved about you. He would have a good thing to say about every feature you had, every characteristic you had, every habit you had. Even every flaw because somehow you made them beautiful to him.

Yes, he loved your eyes, your smile, your hands, you. Just you. And he didn't go a day without telling you because you deserved to know just how truly beautiful you were.

#stray kids #skz han #skz #kpop #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

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twoiafart · 1 year

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Benjicot Blackwood at the Muddy Mess Artwork by Ertaç Altinöz

By any name, the last battle of the Dance of the Dragons would prove to be a one-sided affair. The longbows on the hill shot the horses out from under Lord Borros’s knights as they charged, bringing down so many that less than half his riders ever reached the shield wall. Those that did found their ranks disordered, their wedge broken, their horses slipping and struggling in the soft mud. Though the stormlanders wreaked great havoc with lance and sword and longaxe, the riverlords held firm, as new men stepped up to fill the place of those who fell. When Lord Baratheon’s foot came crashing into the fray, it seemed as if the tide of battle might turn, until the wood to the left of the road erupted with shouts and screams, and hundreds more rivermen burst from the trees, led by thirteen-year-old Benjicot Blackwood, who would be known as Bloody Ben for the rest of his long life.

#asoiaf art #benjicot blackwood #bloody ben #ertac altinoz

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greyskyflowers · 1 year

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✨🌙 Magic AU ideas for fun ✨🌙

~ Please credit me if you use any of these.

🕸️ Ink spiders

Spider like creatures that tend to live in places with lots of ink (think libraries, book stores, antique shops, etc).

Most people think the black spindling legs are the creature and it's made of ink (hence the name), but the spiders are actually made of the spaces between words, the black ink is the shadow. They're very thin and you have to get close and look sideways at them to faintly see their actual bodies, which almost look like very thin glass threads. More of a distortion in the air than an actual image. Leave ink splatters when startled and make little clinking noises like tea cups when they get curious enough to climb something you've left close enough to the page.

**Think that photo of camels in desert where people think shadows are the camels

🚪Little shops in between the books on shelves in antique and bookstore.

They look like little miniature houses/apartments but they aren't fond of people lingering so if you look away they'll shut the doors and windows by the time you look again.

Some even take their welcome mats back inside.

🌌 Planetary rings can be bought for an unbelievable price but only the best magic users have them. They make amazing engagement and/or wedding rings.

🐠 If you find the right crosswalk in the rain, you will loo down between the painted line over a mirror image of the city, see fish swimming, leaves floating, etc. Stepping on the blocks gets you across but stepping in the water spins you around and you end up in the city. If you look up you'll see the blocks in the sky and fish swimming high above like clouds. You can watch people walking across the street above you.

This is the only way to find certain magic market places and it can be hard to find the right crosswalk. People usually end jumping in lots of puddles trying to find the right one.

**You leave the same way

🌧️ Kitchen clouds that rain spices

🌊 The most expensive and rare lace is foam from the sea pulled off at high tide under a full moon. White with the gentlest hints of blue, perfectly imperfect in it's details. They say it smells of salt and feels cool against the skin.

**Sold by mermaids, sirens, ocean nymphs. If you buy if from someone else it's probably fake

💡Sting lights that fly off the string when not in use and flicker on and off around the room. When you ask for light or turn it on, they all come floating in to sit on the string at their spots.

**Like lightning bugs but just little puffs of light

🌱 Rooms where grass grows on the floor or up between floorboards. Wildflowers and clover joining it. Sometimes sunflowers pop up to keep depressed or sick people company, common in hospitals

🛁 Night bath bombs: Black ones that turn the water black and silver dust forms accurate constellations in the water.

Cloud bath bombs: White ones that cover the top of the water in rolling puffs that look like cotton but dissipate like fog when you wave your hand through it.

Ocean bath bombs: Blue ones that foam and make small waves, sea salt scent and the grit of sand at the bottom of the tub.

Rain bath bombs: Grey ones that smell like rain and look like puddles, the occasional leaf or two floating by, and the perfect warm summer rain feel and smell.

🎨 Colorful butterflies like paint chips travel together and always form beautiful murals when they land. They usually stay for awhile before getting up to move their artwork to somewhere else.

🐙 Upside down flowers that move like octopus, the petals like little legs they scurry around on. They sometimes produce pollen puffs when startled or angry.

🦷 Dentists that do teeth whitening for vampires

👗 Dresses with flower edges, the skirt made of stems all going up to form the waist with leaves occasionally helping to cover and the flowers all at the bottom. Living dresses.

Along the same thought, flowers that weave in your hair and stay, Ivy, lavender, gardenia, etc.

🥪 Swamp houses on giant lilly pads with monsters that lives in the muddy waters, ancient beings that adore grilled cheese and will accept it as an offering of friendship.

🐾 Veterinarians that can speak multiple animal languages and can ask animals what's wrong as well as follow up on any neglect or abuse claims

⚓ Tattoos that move and change as the person does. Flowers that go through blooming and wilting. Words that change fonts. Animals that wonder around the body. Anchors that sink down to the feet. Watercolor that leaves the skin damp

🛒 Groceries that pop into your kitchen as you order them.

**They keep putting the milk in the wrong place and at this point you think it's just to fuck with you.

🪞 Store changing rooms have two types of rooms available, with mirrors that flatter and support, or mirrors that are brutally honest and occasionally hurtful.

💉 Werewolves that need to stay up to date on their rabies/disease shots instead of their flu shots.

💰 The best thieves and scammers are fae because they're amazing at getting information, names, numbers, etc. Also kitsune because of their remarkable cuunning and playfulness.

💧 Depression medicine that shoos away the rain clouds over your head

Calming tinctures that literally stop your head from spilling

Warming spells that start at you toes and roll up your body like sinking into warm water

Cooling spells that run down from the top of your head like a cool shower

💀 Classroom skeletons that teach their own classes and love dad jokes. Real ones that tell stories from their lives, or died very recently but it was in the middle of the semester and they still have shit to do. Fake skeletons that like to pretend they were famous/fictional people and spread completely ridiculous and often hilarious rumors.

🏘️ Ghost towns/neighborhoods like spirited away. Quiet and empty during the day but bustling streets and shops as the sun goes down. They aren't on maps for a reason - tip your hat or nod your head and remember your manners while quickly passing through

🌫️ Spells that hide your home from those with ill intentions. Sometimes they can't see your house or it looks abandoned. Sometimes it switches the roads around so none ever lead to you. Those with good intentions will always find their way to you, even if they get lost.

**Think irish proverb about the road rising up to meet you vibes

🗑️ The creature that lives in the break room trashcan always has the latest gossip and will gladly trade you some in return for some old coffee or a snack from the vending machine.

🐌 Sea slugs as street cleaners, make their way through the streets at night in slow wiggles like how they clean the bottom of the ocean.

**Often cause traffic delays if they get behind and can stay out til morning, so listen to the local morning radio to make sure to avoid any road closures due to slug

👁️ Seers make the best personal assistants, front desk, nurses, etc. Catch things right as they fall, will call and reschedule appointments before people know they need to, can make sure messages get where they need to go exactly when needed.

**Fake seers will sometimes try to pose as weathermen or similar to get some fame and money. They usually get booted quickly.

🌿 Eucalyptus that grows in the shower and greets you in the morning with happy waves and wishes you good night in the evening. Moss that grows on the floor like a rug and sprouts like flowers when it thinks you need some cheering up.

⌛ Time delays are a thing, however they must be approved by the time equality agency. You can request to change the hours in your day. For example, a student might request to have more time to study before their 7am final. If approved, they might have say 5am last 4 hours before time resumes as normal. However they'll have 4 hours removed at the end of their day.

**Kind of like daylight savings where the clock jumps forward and backwards

Usually this is reserved for very special situations as there's a lot of paperwork and requirements involved.

🚀 Spaceships gets stars stuck on the side, like boats get barnacles stuck to them, and they have to be scrapped off and throw back up into the sky

**Stars also go too low sometimes and get stuck in tree branches and gutters

🍄 Giant mushrooms used at part of the structure and/roof in forest homes. Living homes.

🌳 Willow trees are incredibly protective. If someone gets a willow whip mark (snapped a branch at them like a towel) it usually means they were somewhere they shouldn't have been.

🦋 Some butterflies have extra pollen on their wings that gets shaken off. This can be gathered and used in magic makeup - doesn't harm the butterfly as they shake it off themselves when it gets too heavy.

🐉 Fire flowers that burn blue at the base and end in flickering flames. Little embers in the middle like pollen. Very small dragons take the embers and soot like bees.

Please note that it's illegal to take anything from a dragon, including fire honey, but sometimes if you befriend them they'll trade you. Maybe a shell of honey for something shiney. They're fond of things like tinsel and shiney confetti, it's easy to carry and they sometimes wrap it around them like little scarves.

🗺️ Physical maps that direct you like Google maps but also refuse to ask for directions if they themselves get lost. Sometimes they fold on the sides like little arms on their hips when they're mad.

**Map: don't you dare pull over, take the turn in .5 miles.

Driver: There is no turn!

Map: Take the turn!

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demifiendrsa · 3 months

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youtube

FINAL FANTASY VII REBIRTH - Destined for Rebirth

youtube

Japanese version

Latest details

■ Key Artwork

■ Regions of the World

The world is comprised of multiple regions, each boasting unique environments for players to explore and experience on their adventure.

Starboard Junon

An urban residential zone within the fortified metropolis overlooking the ocean. In addition to housing for Shinra personnel, high-end boutiques and restaurants line its streets. Currently, preparations are underway here for Rufus Shinra’s presidential inauguration parade

Shinra-8

A Shinra cruise ship that ferries travelers between the planet’s eastern and western continents. After departing the port of Junon, it heads for the resort town of Costa del Sol. As part of the on-board entertainment, the ship plays host to a Queen’s Blood tournament.

■ New Characters

Cait Sith & Moogle

This gregarious cat fights from atop his sturdy moogle mount, who provides both mobility and support during battle. When Cait’s not duking it out, his Cait Sith & Moogle high-tech helper aids him in hacking computer systems and telling fortunes.

Elena (voiced by Piper Reese in English, Megumi Toyoguchi in Japanese)

“Feast your eyes on the Turks’ latest and greatest─Elena! But you three can call me your worst nightmare!”

Though she may be a rookie, she’s as skilled with her fists and a gun as anyone else in the Turks unit of Shinra’s General Affairs Division. She and her partner Rude are tasked with pursuing the black-robed figures, which she is more than happy to do if it means being assigned a mission with Tseng.

Captain Titov (voiced by Jonathan Lipow in English, Tsuyoshi Koyama in Japanese)

“Be sure to mind your P’s and Q’s, huh? Lotta bigwigs on board.”

The captain of the Shinra-8, responsible for overseeing safe passage for all who travel between Junon and Costa del Sol. He’s earned a sterling reputation among his crew, thanks to his unerring devotion to his duties. This is most evident during the various festivities held aboard his vessel, which he personally—and passionately—emcees.

■ Combat

Next up, let’s take a look at what some of the new additions to the party can do in battle!

◆ Yuffie

Basic Attacks

Quickly strike enemies with a large throwing star. The speed with which she attacks allows you to charge ATB faster than most. While her throwing star is out, Yuffie can unleash magic-infused “ninjutsu” to punish foes.”

Abilities

Yuffie excels at chaining her attacks together and switching their elemental affinity. Her Doppelgänger ability allows her to attack in tandem with her clone, enabling her to exploit enemies’ weaknesses even more effectively.

Unique Ability

Hurling her throwing star at enemies allows her to keep up the pressure from a distance. While her throwing star’s out, she can also pelt her foes with ninjutsu. Whatever element her target’s weak against, Yuffie has a ninjutsu spell for it.

◆ Cait Sith

Basic Attacks

He darts about the battlefield with the agility of an acrobat (or perhaps a cat?), assailing enemies from every side. When he wants to switch things up, he brings out his moogle pal, changing his attacks.

Abilities

These Cait Sith-exclusive moves can hurt enemies or buff allies, but most rely on luck in some way. “Let’s Ride!,” however, allows him to hop on his moogle, enhancing his regular attacks and his unique abilities.

Unique Abilities

While riding his moogle, Cait Sith can give enemies the boot with Dropkick. Once his moogle’s attacks have filled the Moogle Meter, he can also buff his companions with abilities like “Defense!”

◆ Synergy Abilities

Powerful attacks in which two characters team up to turn the tide of battle. More abilities will unlock as you increase the party level—a numerical expression of how closely-knit your team is—and deepen the affinity between party members. Fill the synergy gauge by using abilities, then unleash a synchronized assault.

Moogle Pinwheel (Synergy Ability / Yuffie and Cait Sith)

Yuffie and Cait Sith attack in tandem with a secret ninja technique.

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth, the second game in the Final Fantasy VII remake trilogy, will launch for PlayStation 5 on February 29, 2024.

#Final Fantasy VII Rebirth #FFVII Rebirth #Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth #FF7 Rebirth #Final Fantasy VII Remake #FFVIIR #Final Fantasy 7 Remake #FF7R #Final Fantasy VII #FFVII #Final Fantasy 7 #FF7 #Final Fantasy #Square Enix #video game #PS5 #long post

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roseartsandfics · 2 months

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The Tides of Fates Portrait

Happy Launch Day of FFVII Rebirth lovelies! 🌹

Here is the last FFVII art of this month of Cloud with the visions of Zack, Aerith and Sephiroth in one piece of portrait with flames and the lifestream, unknowing what fate will be for them…

This was drawn back in January, and I finished it, keeping it saved for today's launch of Rebirth. I believe it's one of the best artwork I have drawn! :3

One slight problem. I didn't like how Sephiroth turned out :p. However, Cloud, Zack and Aerith aren't that bad. This artwork is my first time drawing Zack before drawing the chibi Crisis Core. Other than that, I actually had fun drawing them! Speaking of launch, my mom got me Rebirth while I was in school! I was really pumped up for it! It'll give me much time to finish Crisis Core Reunion, OG FFVII, FFVII Remake and Rebirth, and Ever Crisis stories (possibly) before or so until part 3 of FFVII Remake trilogy :)

WIP pics:

Zack Fair, Aerith Gainsborough, Cloud Strife, Sephiroth and Final Fantasy VII Remake ©Tetsuya Nomura, Naoki Hamaguchi, Yoshinori Kitase, Roberto Ferrari and SQUARE ENIX

No copyright infringement is intended

Used: Soho Studio markers and charcoal pencils, Crayola colored pencils, 48 pack colored pencils and gel pens

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friendlyneighbourhood-parker · 2 years

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the deadline

Pairing: steven grant x reader

word count: 1.6k

warning: n/a

A/N: don't ask me why most of my fics are set on nightime, i just love nightime. also this was a really old drabble that I wanted to rewrite and get rid of

“Darling, come back to bed”

The sudden noise of his groggy voice whispering just above your head and the pressure of his hands on both your shoulders would’ve startled you, jumping in your own place and dropping some of the things that rested on your desk in the process but the creek of his steps on the old wooden floor were loud enough to let you know of his proximity. He reached down leaving a sweet kiss on the top of your head, your empty hand grabbed his and you looked up locking eyes together, his eyes were just as sweet as they were tired, the deep brown calling for you in a desperate silence to go back with him and leave your place on the uncomfortable chair and the crisp air. You looked back down to the piece resting in front of you.

“I need to finish first”

Your other hand, busy by the paintbrush that somehow managed to mark your skin with paint whenever you weren’t looking just as much as it had with the canvas that the portable easel was holding in place on top of the desk, smeared paint was ingrained on the wood surface and no matter how hard you tried to get rid of, it never came off. He took the white cup marked with black bold letters as “Paint water” as an attempt to remind you both that the usage of it was restricted and non-negotiable limited to the little hobby that had turned into a job and placed it away from the glass of water that stood beside it – knowing that you’ve probably gotten them mixed up a few times by now when you took one with your eyes still glued to the work you’ve done.

It was a tedious routine, one that both Steven and you hated but the anxious feeling of the date when you have to turn them in coming closer and closer kept you on your desk, working from when the sun rose up in the sky until the moon shined with its silver light. The feeling of being tide down to the chair was then even without any physical proof of it, but the reminder of what was at stake pulled you from slumber and dragged you away from the comfort of the warm bed and away from the arms of the man whose sleep almost seemed dependant on the weight and warmth of you next to him. The sudden emptiness waking him up just a few minutes after your escape.

The eye bags that settled on your face, the way your back ached in the mornings thanks to the stiff position you maintained for hours and the occasional migraines from the lack of sleep were some of the traces this toll left on you. Steven had managed to pull you away from your desk a couple of times but not without you talking back about how much you needed to get this done just to end up letting him ‘win’ and lay between his arms on the old living room sofa to take a quick nap together, his soothing voice reading you to sleep. Trying to keep the thought of the haunting painting away from bugging you, the slow movements of his chest and the musky smell of his cologne being enough to give up trying to maintain your eyes from closing.

After months of searching for a gallery who would accept to display some of you artwork you finally found one, a new independent gallery that had quickly gattered a name for itself and a really good reputation. The curator had a great background, working with big companies and having connections with the world of art, a world you dreamed to be a part of someday. And after presenting him your work he seemed fairly impressed and whiling to have it hanging from the walls of his gallery. Except for his fatal request.

Three new paintings.

That’s what he asked for, his only request was something new and fresh to sell beside your old pieces. It was hard to say no to the so little time he gave you for that commission to be fulfilled and even more so if the man was able to grant you something that you so desperately wanted. So now, with one painting done – what could only be describe as a recreation of the being that haunted the waking days of your lovers with its nattering, the description being provided from the three of them, giving you insightful detail of someone you couldn’t see but new how present it was as a part of your live. another one almost finished and the third one being only a messy and undecipherable sketch of something that you really didn’t plan on doing, because any idea that seemed good flew out the window and in came only a thought, the thought of how quickly the days passed without being able to stop them. The deadline came closer making the stress built up inside of you, turning your dreams into nightmares that kept you from sleeping.

And poor little Steven couldn’t do more than to yearn for you, the worry growing at the sight of the way this work seemed to eat you alive from the inside out and reminisce about the nights where they had to go away from you and wonder if the longing he felt for the weight of your body in his arms was about a fraction of what you felt when they were the one missing in bed. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, a haunting reflection of your actions. Him bringing you food at your desk and how you would place cups of tea to the table next to him while he read, he coming to hug you from behind and drowning you in encouragement to take a break and you brushing your hand along his shoulders every time you passed near him when he worked on his desk; the sight wasn’t pretty, a mockery from destiny.

“Hey” his voice was soft, the voice you would use to talk with a really old granny or a sweet child that rested on your arms. He crouched beside you, his hand rubbing a stain of dried paint off of your thigh and his head tilted to the side as he looked up at you, tired eyes were found each other.

The tired smile that left his crooked teeth shine through like pearls. His grip on your thigh being a bit steadier, anchoring himself to you while his other hand reached for your face cupping your cheek. The signs where there, he wouldn’t leave your side until you followed after him, your fingers intertwined while words of love slipped through your lips. His sight was caring and loving, his darks curls hung messily to every possible direction thanks to him tossing in his sleep whenever you weren’t around, his touch feeling hot over your skin – not enough to burn but just right to soothe you to notice the heaviness on your shoulders and how your eyelids seemed to fight just to remain open.

“You’ve worked hard pretty girl” his expression reflected all the tiredness he found in yours, almost enticing you to be the one dragging him back to bed and coax him to sleep just by knowing how greatly he had struggled to even drift to sleep in the first place, the feeling of guilt that started to settle in the pit of your stomach quickly outshined by the need of feeling that hand that was placed on your cheek being dragged along your back as he cooed you. The way your head leaned into his touch seemed almost like an instinct, trying to find the peace you were missing. The naturally as your movements assembled to each other was too good to be true and yet there they were “You need to rest”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the canvas, feeling like it was staring back at you in disappointment and its voice being too loud to eclipse the so obvious fatigue you were feeling. But it was only your anxiety speaking.

There was no use in forcing yourself, you can finish it another day.

There’s still time.

Your hands left your lap, quickly moving to rub your eyes as you nodded towards him, your shoulders felt heavy as you rolled them trying to ease the pain on them and on your neck. Your movements were slow, slower than you would like but your body was starting to give out on you, succumbing to Morpheus realm of dreams. You yawned.

“Let’s go love” you pecked his lips smiling.

The contact was brief and didn’t seem as much but it had the power of calming down your nerves, to keep away the worries and fears. Your thumb rubbed on the corner of his lip, where wild blue paint was smeared and you wondered how many spots of fresh paint could possibly be in your face.

“Is that how you knew I drank the dirty water?” you laughed looking up at him. Your throat feeling dry, you reached for the glass before feeling the pressure of his hand on top of it, stopping your movements. It was like waking up from an illusion, seeing what was your glass of water turn into the label cup in your hand just by blinking a couple of times.

“A bit, yeah” he reached for your hand helping you get up before turning off your desk lamp. Guiding you with the ability of a man who has walked the same steps over and over again, knowing where the loose wood plates where and where every turn had to be done to not bump into a stack of books. You heard him humming as a response before hugging you, giving off by the edge of the bed and falling back to the mattress. Just as you predicted his hand made its way to your back below your shirt. “We’ll need a shower in the morning”

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