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strawwritesfic · 3 years

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Loki Laufeyson x Female!Midgardian!Reader: A Bird in the Hand

Summary: …is surely not worth its asking price.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (some foul language; not Thor Ragnarok compliant)

Fic Trade Prompt: “Please, I don’t want to lose you, too.”

A Bird in the Hand

Once upon a time in a realm known as Midgard, there lived a girl. This girl, of course, was you, and you lived as many young women at the time did during that Age of Miracles. None of these miracles ever happened to you. There were no fish oil transformations on your horizon, nor were there any divine calls to adventure. Just like all New Yorkers, you grew use to your daily commute being interrupted by superheroes, to calling insurance companies to argue over their decision to not pay for alien invasion damage to your apartment, and even to carrying an umbrella around with you even on the driest of days in case certain Asgardians decided to visit. Life went on. You had stopped looking for a real miracle years ago.

As well you should have, because there was nothing miraculous about your wedding day. Outside, a seemingly endless mass of dark gray clouds let loose bucket after bucket of rain. Thunder rolled across the sky; lightning flashed–and that, really, was all you could see through the window you had stationed yourself in front of to sulk. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have blamed the city’s resident thunder god for the disastrous timing of this storm front. As it was, all you could blame was your string of bad luck.

Speaking of bad luck, the door to your parlor snapped open and in stepped the dripping figure of your best friend. Aliyah paused only long enough to adjust her sodden pink hijab before plopping soggily onto an overstuffed loveseat.

“Well, the gazebo is flooded,” she announced, “the food is soaked through, and the caterer won’t bring more to replace it. Your flower arrangements are in pieces, and the band already ran off. I don’t think there’s anything left of your wedding ceremony.”

You did not bother to leave the window, though you did turn just far enough to throw her a sour look. “Do you have any good news to impart?” you asked.

Aliyah grinned. “Your maid of honor hasn’t walked out yet. At least there will be one person here to witness this fiasco.”

“Gonna need a groom for anything to be witnessed.”

Most close friends would offer sympathy when their friend’s fiancé of a year and a half decided to just not show up for the actual wedding. Most acquaintances would feel bad enough when the carefully planned event got rained out. Not your Aliyah. She simply let out a sharp breath and leaned her head back against the couch cushion.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said.

You glared at her, which of course she didn’t see, having shut her eyes to listen to the water tumble from the roof to the street outside.

“Thank you. So much,” you said.

“What?” she asked, forcing her eyes open again. “I told you Jared wasn’t good enough for you. Besides, you should keep all the gifts even if he doesn’t stop by. I saw, like, nine blenders in that pile. You’re better off this way, if you ask me.”

“You’re just saying that because you want a free blender,” you said.

“I wouldn’t say no. But, really, you should count your lucky stars. Free stuff and free of your jackass boyfriend. What better start to a weekend?”

“I’d rather be married to my jackass boyfriend.”

Aliyah’s disdain for Jared was nothing new or surprising. He’d fallen from grace in her eyes when he’d got jealous over your fondness for an injured pigeon you’d rescued only a few months after you started dating Jared. Even releasing the bird hadn’t entirely put an end to his complaints about how you spent your free time. On the other hand, you knew one thing that neither Aliyah nor Jared did: Jared’s jealousy wasn’t entirely misplaced.

But that was years ago. This was now. And that bird had always been bad news.

“Are you going to cry about it?” Aliyah asked, peering over at your perch by the parlor’s bay window. “Because, if not, I’d hate to have dragged Habib all the way to America for nothing.”

At the mention of her long-distance boyfriend, you motioned for Aliyah to go on. You preferred to do your moping alone, and Aliyah knew it. She stood and crossed the room to give you a quick hug before she left without another word. Probably you did owe your maid of honor at a least a blender for all the trouble she’d been through on your behalf.

Sighing, you lifted one hand, dug your fingers into your hair, and tore out what was holding it in its elaborate design. Who cared what you looked like now? Even if stupid Jared had shown up, the storm would have ruined your appearance before you made it down the aisle. Now Aliyah had free rein to spend the rest of her afternoon cuddling with Habib, and you had no one else to bother looking pretty for.

Outside your empty room, you could hear the indistinct muttering of your remaining guests. Family, mostly, who had already given up trying to convince you to let them in. What the rest of them were waiting for before they left, you couldn’t guess. Perhaps for you to come out and make an official announcement: The wedding has been called off. Party’s over. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. And thanks for all the blenders.

The shame of your situation suddenly threatened to crash down upon you. It would have, if you had remained sitting where you were. Instead, you got up, white dress rustling as you stalked across the room. A quiet shriek of rage was stifled only by your gloved hand pressed to your colored lips. Of all the pathetic, idiotic, insane things you had done in your life! Now you didn’t even have the courage to face your friends and family with the truth.

“Tap. Tap. Tap.”

Hail began to hit the glass behind you, soft and hesitant. Since you had no plans to leave the building any time soon, you ignored this weather development.

Jared hadn’t even called to say he’d changed his mind. You should have known when he hadn’t come home after his stag party the night before. He was probably laughing it up over your stupidity with some blonde bikini babe by the beach that you were supposed to go to for your honeymoon. The thought caused you to kick out angrily at the coffee table, and you heard a quiet rip issue from your skirt in response when it caught on a corner.

You swore.

”Tap. Tap. Tap.”

Now that you thought about it, the sound wasn’t regular enough to be hail. It wasn’t very hesitant anymore either. Still, you ignored the noise as you yanked off your veil, your gloves, and your garter. You were mentally preparing to rip them all to shreds with your fingernails when you heard it again:

“Tap. Tap. Tap.”

That time you did not suppress your shriek. As it faded into the overstuffed furniture surrounding you, you marched over to the window and shoved it open. The wind whistled through the empty space, sending anything in the room not tied down into the air and splattering your face with water. If ever there was a time to reasonably expect an Asgardian thunder god to step inside, it was then. No one was there, though, save for a single bedraggled pigeon.

“Oh, hello,” you said when it hopped onto the sill, and automatically you held out your cupped hands toward it.

The poor thing shivered once, then stepped onto your warm palms. Only when it looked up into your face did you see that it had bright green, very un-pigeon-ish eyes.

Before you could stuff the bird back outside, it lifted itself into the air to half-flutter, half-fly over to the loveseat Aliyah had been sitting on. A flash of light that had nothing to do with the lightning outside filled the room. When you had blinked and cleared your vision enough that you could see again, the pigeon was gone, and in its place reclined a tall, dark-haired, beautiful man, dressed to the nines in Asgardian fashion.

“Hello, darling,” said Loki Laufeyson. “Don’t you look ravishing?”

You were too shocked to contradict him. No mention of your torn dress, mussed hair, or smeared makeup escaped your lips. Instead, you said the only thing you could in that sort of situation: “What are you doing here?”

“Why, I’m here to offer you my congratulations, of course,” he answered, examining one perfectly manicured nail. “Or should it be my condolences?”

“Really?” Your tone dripped with enough sarcasm that it could be heard over the protesting window as you forced it shut. “You disappear for two years, never write, never visit, and then you just happen to pop by to celebrate my wedding to another man?”

“What kind of secret lover would I be if I did not?”

“We are not secret lovers.”

“Well, no, we haven’t been for quite some time. I see no reason why that should stop us from picking up right where we left off, however.”

“We were never secret lovers.”

“Really?” he said, mocking the tone of your earlier question. “That’s not what it seemed like to me. Of course, I had the brain of a pigeon most of the time, but at night when your beau had to work and leave you so very alone–”

“You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect me to want you again,” you interrupted. “And on my wedding day to boot.”

To his credit, Loki looked genuinely confused by your behavior–like he’d expected you to jump straight into his arms, marriage or no. Obviously, they did things differently in Asgard. You were not Asgardian.

“Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it. I was only trying to thank you for helping me, you know.”

“All I did was take in a pigeon that got injured when Thor threw a bunch of peanuts at a flock. It didn’t really deserve that sort of thanking.”

“Ah, but you enjoyed it anyway.” That wasn’t the point. He knew it wasn’t the point just as well as you did, because once he made it, he got fluidly up to his feet to and walked over to stand in front of you. “If you are that disinclined to see me, I suppose I had better get going. If you ever grow tired of being lonely again–oh, that’s right. You don’t know how to contact me.”

You opened your mouth to remind Loki that you didn’t want to contact him, but then something about Loki’s words rang strange.

“Alone?” you echoed.

“Yes, alone. Or do you expect your Prince Charming to come riding up on a horse of white any second now? Better late than never?”

Without thinking, without warning, you slapped him straight across the face.

“Ow!” he snapped, pressing one of his hands to the mark on his face. “What was that for?”

“What did you do?” You lifted your hand for another blow. “What did you do to Jared?”

“Me? Do something to Jared? What should I have to do with that ponderous ass?”

“Did you kill him, Loki?” you asked, voice quavering. Loki could do it. Easily. He was a god, and Jared just…well, just a ponderous ass.

Loki let out a single bark of laughter. “Oh, please. I just got out of Asgardian prison. As if I’d risk going back over the murder of a petty moral such as he.”

That brought you up short. Frowning, you deigned to look at him again. “Prison?”

“Yes, prison. Did you think my absence was due to taking a pleasure cruise?”

“I thought you’d escaped prison when I found you the first time.”

“But you sent me back to Asgard when I started causing trouble,“ he reminded you. "Odin does not forget his son’s crimes easily, nor is he inclined to forgive them. Luckily my brother is far easier to manipulate.”

He had not, you noticed, made any real move to leave. Loki still stood in front of you, looking down as the pink handprint faded from his cheek.

“So…you didn’t kill my fiancé?” you asked uncertainly.

He shook his head. “If he isn’t here, it is because he is a dunce, not because I tricked him in any way.”

“Oh.” All the problems of your appearance seemed at once apparent and embarrassing. To think that this man would see you in such a state, and only because he’d wanted to see you after his release from jail. “Why did you really come, then? Since you knew he wasn’t here. To gloat?”

“The thought did occur to me,” Loki confessed. “I am not often in the position of being the more desirable choice. But,” here his voice turned oddly sincere, “I actually came to ask you to come with me.”

Your mouth fell open. Some of Loki’s usual acerbic amusement returned as he watched you flounder; you could see the faint outlines of his familiar smirk at the corners of his mouth. Finally, you managed a short, “go with you where?”

He shrugged, and started to twist the curtain in between his long, pale fingers. “I don’t know, really.”

“You want me to go somewhere with you without anywhere in mind?”

“I thought we’d figure it out as we went along,” he said. “Travel the galaxies. I cannot return to Asgard and Midgard, of course, is out of the question so long as I do not rule it.”

“You want me to follow you into outerspace?”

Only his silence could tip you off that Loki was actually nervous. He clearly had no idea how you would respond to his suggestion–which was by falling into a nearby chair to gape at him.

“You want me to leave my family?” you asked.

“They live far away and hardly talk to you.”

“And my job?”

“That you’ve never liked. We’re both aware.”

“And my best friend?”

“She spends most of her time visiting mosques in India with her boyfriend,” Loki said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Besides, there’s no rule to say we can’t come back to visit her every so often. I have no objection. She seems a sensible enough woman.”

“And you want me to leave them all,” you went on as though you couldn’t hear him, “for you, a man I haven’t seen in years because he was in prison.”

Once more, Loki said nothing. His green eyes peered into yours with unreadable depths, just as they had the unfortunate day you had returned home after to work to find your injured pigeon friend gone and a strange man eating all of the meat out of your fridge in its place. You could remember, too, the feel of that man’s skin against yours, the heat of his lips on your neck, the sound of his low voice in your ear–and Jared complaining, always complaining, about how much time you spent with that damn bird.

You buried your face in your hands. “I can’t do it, Loki. I can’t.”

You waited to hear him leave again, to hear the glass move and the rush of the storm and the flutter of wings. None came. All that did was one soft word:

“Please.”

“Huh?”

When you looked up, Loki was right above you. His hands gripped the chair arms at your sides with enough force to make them whiter than ever–but his eyes were not on yours anymore.

“Please,” he said, “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Another move without thinking or warning: You gently touched his other cheek.

Loki’s eyes closed for a half second before he moved one hand to hold your wrist there. “I have already lost my father, my mother, my home. My own brother has thrust me unceremoniously from both realms I sought to rule. And then to hear that I would lose you, too, to an oaf like that Jared.”

No one could say that Loki losing all of this wasn’t entirely his fault. He had decided to lead an alien invasion into Earth, to try murdering several members of his mentioned family, and to seduce young Earth women under the guise of hurt animals. But part of Loki’s charm was that he never failed to make one doubt that he could be better, maybe, if you only let him try.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. A sincere apology didn’t mean your mind was changed, however, and this, also, Loki knew.

“Do you want me to beg?” he asked. “I am no longer a stranger to begging.”

With that, Loki slid to the wooden floor before you. Stranger or no, it was positive it wasn’t a position he relished being in, what with how stiff his hands were around yours when he made to hold them. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and began:

“I know I am asking a lot. But I, too, have lost a family, a job, and my closest friends. I would not ask you to come with me if I did not intend on paying you pack ten times in kind. If you will allow me to take you with me, I know I can make you happier than you would be here. Together we will find some place to call our own, and you shall be my queen. So please,” he said, “please let me keep one last thing that I love. Don’t make me leave you behind, too.”

It wasn’t the prettiest speech you had ever heard come out of his mouth, but it was probably the most honest. You gave him a tiny smile as you squeezed his hands in return. “A queen, huh?”

Loki smirked. “Or a comfortable, quiet living, depending on what we find, and how thorough Thor is in seeking me out. At least we could be comfortable and quiet for a little while.”

“Can’t imagine that’s going to last long with you around.”

“With you around to look after me, though…”

That got you to laugh. “Oh, yes, I’m sure I’d do a wonderful job making sure you didn’t get into any trouble. I did such a good job before.”

Some of the color returned to Loki’s features. He was starting to hope. Against your better judgement, so were you. A couple of things, however, remained to bother you:

“What if you came here and Jared and I were married?” you asked.

“Then I would have had to resort to kidnapping.”

“And how did you even know I was getting married today to begin with?”

He smiled his Cheshire smile, and that was when you knew you were truly lost. “You really ought to stop talking to the birds on your fire escape. You never know which one would be willing to pass information off in exchange for a couple of peanuts.”

“Oh, and you stalk me. What part of this deal doesn’t sound good?”

“None of it, I should hope.” Standing, Loki kept one hand firmly around one of yours. “We should go, you realize. Unless you want to say your goodbyes?”

You thought of your parents blustering about how you dared to invite both of them to your wedding. You thought of the forlorn apartment you shared with a man that had never really loved you for you. You thought of Aliyah and her instance that Jared would never be good enough for you. You thought of the awkward explanation that would be expected as soon you set foot outside that door–and you grinned.

“Not a chance.”

“Then I believe,” he said, and abruptly pulled you into his arms in an obvious parody of carrying a bride before pushing the window open with his boot, “we have a few errands to go on before we get on our way.”

“Like what?”

“Unless you plan to live the rest of our lives with nothing but multiple blenders,” he began, but was not able to finish over your sudden laughter and the return of the torrent outside.

You latched your hands behind his neck as he dove back into the rain. There were stars somewhere above those clouds, and you would be visiting them soon enough–them and endless other realms. Maybe eloping with a man that could turn into a pigeon wasn’t the best miracle there ever was on Midgard, but it pulled off the most important trick of them all: Against all odds, you lived happily ever after.

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-5: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

"It is only this sort of unbridled, unbound, soul-freeing freedom that suits me.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Following Osborn down the auditorium, we entered the team's resting area.

Tall glass display cabinets lined the wall, and displayed within were trophies that the race team won and photos of victory. They were all arranged by year. The spotlight shone downwards, making those glorious awards through the years appear even more dazzling. It made strolling down the stretch of display cabinets feel like stepping into an illusion of the past.

A familiar photo caught my attention: Osborn was standing on the podium, his helmet sandwiched between his arm and his side.

MC: This is the picture that An'an showed me back then…

I couldn't help but stand on tippy-toes to get a better look at it.

Osborn: The real deal's right beside you, why are you getting all besotted by a photo?

Although that's what he said, he still opened the glass door of the cabinet and took the photo down for me.

MC: When was this taken?

Osborn: When I first won the R1 championship.

He looked pretty young and inexperienced in the photo, with his head raised and an intent stare at the camera. It was almost as if he was gazing into the distance, at the era that would eventually belong to him.

MC: Osborn? What made you want to become a racer?

Osborn's eyes swept past the glass cabinet before falling back on me.

Osborn: Why do you want to be a fashion designer? My answer's the same as yours.

MC: Same as me? For passion?

Osborn: Every aspect of life requires me to endure and think things through; racing is the only thing that allows me to proceed onwards.

The same sharp glint in the picture that had been in his younger self's eyes was back in full force.

I couldn't help but snap an immediate shot of that.

Osborn: Come on then, let's head outside.

We headed out of the rest area and came to the first row of the auditorium. Coincidentally, another mock race was currently in progress.

❖☆———————————★❖

I didn't quite feel it back when I was still viewing from a distance, but now, standing here, I finally experienced what lightning speed truly felt like.

The wind rushed at us, vehemently blowing against our coats, making it flutter violently in the wind. My hair flew every this way and that from violent gusts, and I suddenly got the illusion that even all my troubles could be blown away...

The scene before me had already long since blurred away. I closed my eyes, embracing the world with my senses. At that moment, I heard the forceful thumping of my heart and the rushing of blood in my veins.

I couldn’t help but stretch out my arms, feeling like I was a bird who’d just escaped from the confines of its cage, or like a Père David's deer who’d broken free of its reins, bounding through the snow. The sheer joy of moving forwards without looking back at all was a marvellous one.

MC: I think I now understand what you were talking about earlier.

The look in his eyes suddenly grew more profound, with the vast blue sky reflected within his orbs.

Osborn: It is only this sort of unbridled, unbound, soul-freeing freedom that suits me.

MC: Freedom...

That’s right. I’d also ran back here from all the way abroad in search of freedom. This was the life I chose of my own accord.

I suddenly recalled the look of yearning that had been on Lin Yao’s face the other day when she mentioned the word “freedom” when she saw the race.

Somewhere in my heart was a little crevice that had been moved by that. Looking at the light reflecting off the race team’s logo, I was suddenly hit by a flash of inspiration.

MC: Osborn! I think I can make a collection of outfits with racing as the main theme!

MC: Representing danger and boundaries, there's a nearly crazed kind of romance in the freedom it brings!

MC: And at the same time, it also represents one moving courageously forwards, pushing through until the very end!

MC: If you're alright with it, I want to go to the rest area for another—

Suddenly, I realized that I'd been going off on my own tangent and had literally info-dumped him with my thoughts. I hurriedly zipped my mouth shut, offering him an apologetic smile.

MC: Sorry. I want to go to the rest area to snap a couple more shots as reference material. Can I?

Osborn nodded with a smile.

Osborn: No problemo.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was already near noon by the time I finished taking all the photos I needed. My original plan was to head home, but Osborn said that he too, had something else on, so he had to leave and could spare me a ride back, asking me to wait for him.

Walking up to the entrance, I suddenly saw a thinly built man standing at a distance not too far away. He wore a hat, and his silhouette was a tad familiar.

MC: I feel like I've seen him somewhere before…

Just as I squinted in an attempt to better make out the identity of the person, a sound suddenly sounded from the grass by my feet.

??: Meow!

MC: !

I took a step back, only to see a small white cat looking up at me with its big round eyes. It immediately started circling my legs the moment I lowered my head, turning my attention to it.

MC: So it was you, little one. You nearly scared me half to death!

I knelt down, picking up a green foxtail to poke fun at it. The cat happily stood up, waving its two small forepaws in the air as it batted at it. Much to my astonishment, I found that it had deep gashes on its paws; and they were still bleeding.

Then, in the next moment, it let out a yowl, nabbing my finger and biting down before it quickly fled into the grass with lightning speed.

MC: Ah!

Small drops of blood beaded from the wound on my fingertips. I quickly took a tissue from my bag and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

MC: I'm glad I got that tetanus shot back then…

My heart gave a few uncomfortable lurches. I didn’t understand why the cat had suddenly gone all feral. Then, the sound of heavy and ragged breathing suddenly sounded in the direction that the cat had fled!

A shadow fell upon me, shrouding me within its shadowy cloak as a pair of feet, belonging to a man, entered my field of vision.

MC: !!

I raised my head. It was the man I was scrutinizing earlier! He looked very haggard, with messy hair covering his face and features.

I suddenly realized where I’d seen him beforeー He was the bodyguard who’d walked out of Lin Yao’s dressing room back at the studio the other day and bumped into the set! What’s he doing here?

An inexplicable sense of panic reared its ugly head. I turned around with the intent of fleeing, but the man swiftly reached out and lunged at me!

MC: Hel—

❖☆———————————★❖

My cry for help never left my throat, for he’d already constricted my airway. I struggled vehemently against him, but to no avail. My vision started growing blurry.

The man leaned greedily into my neck as if it was some sort of delectable delicacy.

Man: Finally… Finally, I can live…

In a flash, I suddenly recalled the “vampire attack” incidents that An’an had previously told me about!

My heart suddenly froze in my chest as the chills started to spread. It was getting increasingly harder to breathe, and I was running out of energy to even put up a fight, fast. No… I can’t give up! Never!

However, the terrifying blow of pain that I’d been expecting never came to pass. With a wail of pain, the man let go of me. Gone was the pressure that had been on my airway earlier.

I fell into the warm embrace of a pair of arms.

❖☆———————————★❖

Opening my eyes, my vision was enraptured by a clear blue light that I’d never seen before.

Osborn was hovering protectively about me, his eyes fixated on the back of the figure that made a break for it. Blue flames burned bright within the confines of his palm, flickering and swaying.

Osborn: You good?

I incredulously widened my eyes, thinking that everything I’d just experienced, and everything I was seeing right now, was just part of a dream.

However, the throbbing pain that lingered on my neck and the strange sight before me both told me that: No, this was not a dream. Not in the slightest.

MC: Blue… flames?

Something flashed within Osborn’s eyes. He was seemingly just as surprised by it as well. Then, the blue flames died down, disappearing from his open palm.

Osborn: Are you hurt?

MC: No… Thank you.

I raised my hand to touch my neck; the fear within my heart still lingering.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-8)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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dancingkirby · 3 years

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Shipping

I’m sorry, but it had to be done. Do y’all think this would work better as a Short Story, or just a oneshot on its own?

DAY 1

To celebrate the tenth anniversary of his ascension to the throne, Zuzu and Mai were off on a world tour. Azula had been left in charge of ruling the country. While Azula was glad that he was finally realizing that she wasn’t always thinking about world domination all the time, so far her regency had been extremely boring. Now, she was more than halfway through it, and absolutely nothing of note had happened.

Today had started out like all the others. She hadn’t slept great the night before because of the high winds that had battered Capital Island, and they hadn’t ebbed down very much by morning. She’d had trouble getting her hair to stay in its topknot while training. But the morning council meeting had proven as tedious as ever. Azula was paying the exact minimum amount of attention required as the ministers droned on about tax brackets; most of her brain was occupied on what she would have for lunch that day. Noodles were always nice, but she’d had them for two days in a row now. Anytime she ate any food on multiple consecutive days, there was always the risk of speculation among the courtiers that she might be pregnant. Never mind that she hadn’t even done any sex acts that could result in pregnancy for years…

The door to the meeting hall abruptly swung open. An out-of-breath messenger stood in the doorway, blushing deeply as nearly twenty pairs of annoyed eyes scrutinized him.

“You do realize that you are intruding on a confidential council meeting, correct?” Azula inquired of him.

“I’m t-terribly sorry, P-princess,” the messenger managed to get out. “But I was told that this needed your immediate attention.” Could it be…that something interesting was about to occur for a change?

“All right. What is it?” she asked. At her hand motion, the messenger climbed up to the dais and whispered in Azula’s ear.

“Okay. I’ll be right there. We will continue this meeting at a time to be determined later,” Azula stated.

So here she was on a tugboat, looking at the enormous cargo ship that had somehow gotten wedged into the Strait of Azulon. Azula turned to the old salt who was leading efforts to remove it and said, “Explain.”

“That ship is called the Agni-Given, Princess,” the man said somewhat stiltedly; it appeared that he was trying to rein in a sailor’s natural tendency to use copious foul language. “It’s one of the largest cargo ships in the world. Today, it was passing through the strait when the high winds pushed it off-course and into a sandbar. It also got tangled in some old nets from the Gates. We’ve been trying out dam…darndest to free it, but no luck.”

Azula took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly out of her nose. “And what have these initial attempts included?”

“We attached every tugboat in the harbor to it to try to pull it out, but it didn’t work, Princess. That fu…freaking thing is stuck deep into a sandbar. Next step would be to try to dig it out.”

“Explain how that would be accomplished.”

“Yes…well…”–the old man paused–“We ain’t sure yet, to be honest. The problem is that the place where the bow is stuck is seventy feet underwater. All of the excavating machines available were built for use on land. We was thinking of trying to get some of those new forklifts, try to extend their reach, and bring them out on boats, but…that would take time.”

“Forklifts? Is that the best you could come up with?” Azula demanded. She found herself imitating her brother’s famed nose-bridge pinch. This would not do at all. She needed an ingenue, someone who could design a whole new kind of machine if need be. And she thought she knew exactly where to find one.

DAY 2

It had been the end of a long day, without much progress being made. Azula was just about to demand that the larger, more comfortable boat they’d made ready for her today take her back to the harbor when, at long last, the other ship that she had been awaiting arrived. After this watercraft was tethered to hers, a figure came running down the gangplank, arms outstretched.

“Azula!” Sokka exclaimed. “How’s it going? We haven’t seen each other in forever…hey!” His attempts at embracing her had been thwarted by the princess grabbing his shirt at arm’s length.

“Not in public, remember?!” she hissed. Then, just as formally as if he were any old dignitary, she added in normal tones, “Councilman Sokka. It is good to see you here. I trust that your journey here was uneventful?”

“Yeah, except we had to go around the long way because of…well…that,” Sokka replied, gesturing at the still firmly-entrenched Agni-Given. “So how do you want me to assist, O Princess?” He did a little bow, and could not quite manage to keep a straight face.

“Watch it,” Azula reprimanded again. Whenever they encountered each other, she always needed to remind him that their relationship was a melding of intellects and occasionally flesh; romance had absolutely no place in it.

“I recall that you designed a vehicle that could travel underwater,” she explained. “Would it be possible to modify this concept and attach equipment for shoveling? Or perhaps even the capacity for finer manipulation to untangle the net remnants?”

Sokka took a few moments to consider as he beheld the enormous ship. Finally, he replied, “Yeah, I think that’d be possible. It’ll take a while to draw up plans and get everything built, though.”

“Very well,” Azula told him. “I suppose we shall have to simply endure each other’s company for a little longer.”

“’Endure?’ Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sokka gave a wink that was obviously meant to be seductive, but in fact only made him look ridiculous. Azula elbowed him in the ribs.

They did, in fact, end up fucking that night, after Sokka had eaten what seemed to be about half of the palace’s food supply for dinner. They hadn’t seen each other in more than three years, and Azula was scrupulous about taking her contraceptive tea, so why not?

Sokka tried to kiss Azula after, but she didn’t let him.

DAY 3

Zuko had sent a message asking if he should cut his celebratory tour short and come home to help with this problem, but Azula quickly scribbled out a reply that they had everything under control.

Today was the day that Sokka would first meet with the team of engineers assigned to resolve this problem.

“And I’m sure that all of you will give him the respect that he deserves,” Azula told them in the most pleasant voice she could manage. Some of them were obviously pissy about being forced to consult with a man who was half most of their ages. Well, too bad. Anyone who tried to ignore him would be upbraided with the utmost harshness personally by her.

DAY 10

The manufacturing process had begun. Sokka informed her that he had dubbed this new invention the “shovelmarine.” He did not attempt to conceal his sheer glee at this horrible pun. Azula threw a pillow at him.

While the two of them worked by day and screwed by night, things were starting to get out of hand in the Harbor District. The plight of the Agni-Given had captured the imagination of the public, and kiosks had sprouted all over the piers selling miniature models of the grounded ship. It seemed that every single street musician in the city had composed his or her own ballad about the situation. Fan magazines had been established simply for the purpose of publishing the flood of stories and art that the more creatively-minded citizens had concocted. Azula had gotten a hand on one of these volumes, and her favorite story was a somewhat graphic recounting of a speculated liaison between the Agni-Given and the statue of her grandfather. Apparently, the statue was the dominant partner in this relationship…just as it should be.

This magazine had also included a drawing depicting her own activities with Sokka. She knew that she should be furious about this; that the culprit should be tracked down and executed, but she found it just too amusing. The picture was even surprisingly accurate, except that Azula had not actually handcuffed Sokka to her bedpost. They had improvised with the sash from her nightrobe instead.

DAY 16

“Okay, lets see what these shovelmarines can do!” Sokka said as the contraptions touched the open ocean for the first time. The two of them watched from the boat that was by now almost as familiar to Azula as her own suite of rooms at the palace were.

As it turned out, the shovelmarines (Azula had grudgingly accepted this terrible name) could do quite a bit. Over the next several days, they worked steadily at the problem. Finally, three weeks to the day after the Agni-Given had first gotten stuck, it once again floated freely, although it would be have to be drydocked to repair all the damage.

In his excitement, Sokka had tried to kiss Azula. She had initially resisted, but he had used his ultimate weapon: polar bear dog eyes.

“All right, but only once. And on the cheek,” she cautioned him.

DAY 25

Sokka had departed two days ago, and Azula hoped that he wouldn’t try to send love letters or anything stupid like that. He should know how it worked by now. Whenever they happened to meet, they would rekindle their affair for the duration of the visit, and then they went their separate ways until their next encounter. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever, but it would be fun while it lasted.

And today…Zuzu and Mai made their triumphant return from their tour.

“Wow,” said Zuko as the two of them stood at the harbor, observing as the last of the debris was carried away. “You and Sokka took care of that whole mess all on your own! Thank you, Azula.” At this point, he obviously knew from experience not to make any comments about her relationship with the nonbender.

“Why do you sound so surprised, brother?” Azula asked, turning toward him and raising an eyebrow. “It’s almost like I am, in fact, a competent ruler and don’t spend all of my days dreaming of bloodshed and destruction! Who would have ever guessed?”

“That’s not what…” Zuko began, but he could say no more as Azula caught him by surprise, got him in a headlock, and began inflicting a merciless noogie on him.

“Admit it, Zuko,” she crowed. “I’m awesome!”

“Okay, I surrender!” he squeaked out. “You’re awesome.”

She released him. “There. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Now let’s go get some ice cream.”

And so they did.

#azula #sokka #fanfic #sokkla #sort of #keep in mind that this is a rough draft

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Next Cinderella AU part ahoy!

Conical hats were actually considered very fashionable during the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. What’s fascinating, however, is how they evolved into two very distinct and oddly opposing styles of hat: the stereotypical “Pilgrim” hat and the pointed hat that witches are generally depicted wearing! Around the turn of the 17th century, the most stylish variation of black conical hat was called the capotain, which is a cone, but with a rounded top -- the hat McGonagall wears in that top sketch is one of these types of hats (her dress is based on this design, which also features a shorter version of the capotain). The hats were originally fashionable among both men and women, but over time, one group of women that was most associated with wearing them were Quakers, a branch of Christianity that broke away from the Church of England and advocated quite liberated views for the era, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s rights, and a refusal to involve themselves in war. They also passionately believed that one didn’t have to attend church in order to be close to God and that one could practice one’s faith out in the world by living and dressing modestly and being active in charity work. (To learn more about the history of how the conical hat evolved into our modern image of “the witch hat,” check out this awesome fashion history video on the subject.) As one can expect, Quakers and Quaker women in particular were not well-taken-to by a lot of European society, especially by the religious movement on the opposite site of the political scale in Britain, the uber-conservative, Bible-purist Puritans. Many of these same Puritan-types got very involved in hunting witches both in Europe and in the Americas (the Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example). But yes...if one looks up pictures of historical clothing for Puritan men and/or “the Pilgrims” (A.K.A. the group of Americans that colonized Plymouth, who were Puritans), they very often wore a variation of the capotain! Although it’s been theorized by historians that the capotains worn by Quaker women ended up being associated with sin and therefore witchcraft, similar hats were also worn by the men who persecuted them. The hats were worn by both sides -- victim and accuser -- and yet most of us today look at the capotain and immediately think “witch” exclusively. Talk about irony.

Greensleeves is often ascribed as being commissioned by King Henry VIII for his second wife, Anne Boleyn (even Six the Musical references this)...but it actually was written in the later half of the 16th century, when Anne’s daughter Elizabeth I was Queen. So yeah, that’s sadly just an old wives tale. But it is a lovely song! The melody for Greensleeves has been remarkably long-lasting, even being rewritten as multiple Christmas songs over the centuries, including the still popular What Child is This?, which was written in 1865.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn very quickly threw on her mother’s green-sleeved yellow dress and as many warm wool petticoats as she could before fetching her white horse from the palace stable. She rode up through the gate in exactly twenty-five minutes, to find Orion on his black mare waiting for her. Carewyn was ready to ask Orion if everything was all right, but almost as soon as they’d left the perimeter of the gate, Orion urged his horse into a fast gallop.

“Come, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, “let us chase that horizon!”

Carewyn had to send her horse charging forward in its own gallop to catch up with him. They rode right through the market and then out of the capitol altogether -- they avoided the road that led toward the Cromwell estate, dashing eastward. They weaved in and out of the rolling snow-capped hills, riding beside and around each other. The freedom of riding alone was enough to bring some life back into Orion’s cheeks, and Carewyn despite herself soon found herself smiling.

When they came to a stop at the top of a hill close to the northern border, Orion looked out over the edge with a handsome, endless gleam in his eye, like that of a sailor looking out to sea. Carewyn once again prepared to ask Orion if he was all right...but once again, Orion dodged the question.

“Do you see that eagle, overhead?” asked Orion.

Carewyn looked up. She did -- it was a truly handsome golden eagle, gliding in a circle through the air over their heads.

“I’ve seen eagles just like that nearly every day, up and down the border,” said Orion. “Shall we see if we can ride fast enough to overtake it in flight? Could we take flight as birds do, without ever spreading wings?”

“Orion...”

Carewyn brought a hand gently down on his arm.

“I know there’s something wrong,” she whispered.

Orion looked at her, his expression losing most of its levity and becoming much blanker and more inscrutable again.

“I understand if you can’t tell me,” she insisted softly. Her blue eyes rested on her own hand on his arm rather than his face -- with the intense concern she felt, she didn’t dare expose them further by looking straight into his eyes. “And I truly don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your secrets are your own, and I know you have a reason for them.”

Just as I have mine.

“I only...I can tell you’re running from something...maybe even the thing you’ve being running from, every time you’ve come to see me, all these weeks...and I don’t know what to do, to protect you from what you’re so afraid of. Please...tell me what I can do.”

Orion’s black eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, rippling with many tiny flickers of emotion that were hard to properly identify -- pain? Affection? Anxiety? Evasiveness? Shame? Longing? Who knew?

At last the Prince of Florence brought a hand out to gingerly rest on top of Carewyn’s on his arm.

“Chase that eagle with me,” he said softly.

Carewyn looked up at Orion and then at the eagle overhead as it soared off toward the nearby woods. Then she gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

“...All right.”

Dislodging herself from Orion, Carewyn steadied her grip on her horse’s reins and flicked them to make it gallop toward the woods.

“Well, come on, then!” she called over her shoulder with the strongest smile she could. “T’would be a shame if I out-rode you in a challenge you set yourself!”

Orion’s face broke out into a brighter, fond smile and he pursued her.

The two rode their horses down the hill and into the trees. Racing side by side, overtaking each other in their strides and then catching up again -- all while Orion smiled so fully and handsomely, and looked at her with such blazing midnight-black eyes -- was a joy that Carewyn had trouble putting into proper words. His expression was full of such silent, and yet unbridled joy -- free, in every sense of the word.

“You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion’s words returned to her. “Free.”

You should be allowed to feel like that too, Orion, thought Carewyn. You deserve to feel this free all the time.

The two rode with speed until they’d finally lost sight of the beautiful golden eagle. Slowing their horses into a calmer trot, they then journeyed through the trees, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the chirping birds and the pools of sunlight scattered across the muddy, snow-dusted ground.

“I’ve never been out this far before,” Carewyn confessed, her almond-shaped blue eyes trailing over the interlaced branches overhead.

Orion looked at her out the side of his eye. “...This close to the border, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn caught a strange scent in the distance -- something vaguely like the fires she’d tend to back at the castle and the Cromwell estate.

“...Something’s burning...”

Orion nodded solemnly. “Bonfires. The Royaumanian and Florentine camps aren’t far from here.”

Carewyn looked at Orion, slightly startled. His gaze had wandered northward, but it was clear his mind was far from the trees his eyes were idly resting on.

“We’re near the war front?” asked Carewyn softly.

“Yes...” Orion glanced her out the side of his eye. “...Are you frightened?”

“No,” said Carewyn.

She looked through the trees in the direction Orion had been facing.

Jacob could be over there right now, she thought to herself. The idea of seeing her brother for the first time in nine years -- of hugging him again and seeing his relieved smile -- it made her feel like her heart was being squeezed.

Orion’s black eyes scanned her longing, but fearless face, before shifting back in the direction of the trees that obscured the path toward the war front.

“The scales are going to shift again, soon,” he whispered. He could feel Carewyn’s eyes on him again. “The two sides have constantly fought for dominance...lashing out ruthlessly and then retaliating, back and forth, until they’re forced to come to a stalemate, just to catch their breath. Then one lashes out again, and the precarious balance is thrown to the winds once more...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with concern. “Orion...is something bad about to happen, out there?”

Orion closed his eyes. His father claimed he needed him, in order to lead the Florentine army in the two-pronged attack on Royaume...but it wasn’t unlikely that the King might make do and find someone else to fill that role...

“Hopefully not,” he said softly.

Carewyn reached out a hand and took hold of Orion’s wrist. Orion looked down at her hand and then up at her face -- she had trouble looking at him, but he could tell her eyes were rippling with concern. His heart felt like it was suddenly being harshly compressed, just to fit inside of his chest.

You wish to protect me from what I fear...but what I fear, I should wish to protect you from.

The King’s words returned to his mind.

“When you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

But how could he hope to protect Carewyn from the War and the cost it would demand? How could he hope to stop it, when his own father unknowingly would be sabotaging his efforts for peace? How could he live with himself, if he had to chain himself to the War the way the King had -- to fight against the Royaumanians he’d met and broken bread with as equals?

Orion took several deep breaths before speaking again.

“...My father wishes me to join him, at the front,” he admitted lowly.

Carewyn looked up, startled. “...Your father’s in the army?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “He’s...a high-ranking officer. He expects that I will follow his example and lead our ranks into battle.”

Carewyn considered Orion for a moment. “...You don’t want to.”

Orion’s eyes darkened significantly. “...I don’t want to.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, he pressed on.

“My father believes that the War can only be ended through force -- that justice can be only brought about by utterly destroying our enemy. But...I cannot believe that. I grew up on the border between Florence and Royaume. The town I’m from is so close that one could hop easily from one to the other. It caused some tensions, yes...but it also made it so that at first meeting, or even third or fourth, you never knew what side of the divide a person was on. And so I found myself constantly thinking...what is it that truly separates us? Is it morality? Is it values? Humanity? And yet I don’t think either side can boast having any of those things exclusively. It instead all comes back to a mistake made fifty years ago -- a land dispute that ended more violently than it should have. So many people have died, all because of that...and because neither King has decided to be the better man and choose forgiveness over vengeance.”

Orion bowed his head, his eyes closing solemnly.

“...My father asked me to help him lead the army, in an upcoming attack on the enemy forces -- one that he believes could end the War once and for all. But...”

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

“...I couldn’t accept that burden...so I left.”

Carewyn didn’t respond. Orion scanned her face, trying to read her reaction, but it was proving difficult when she wouldn’t look at him.

Does she...disapprove? he couldn’t help but think. She did think he was Royaumanian -- she didn’t understand that he wanted to protect her brother, not prevent him from returning home...but how could he explain that to her, without...?

“I know that the War could end, if my father’s strategy succeeds,” Orion explained, trying to keep his voice level despite the anxiety he felt, “but this is only one strategy of hundreds, all of which have failed. And even if our side was victorious...however many lives I could potentially save by fighting, I would be snuffing out far more. I realize that this is my responsibility alone, and sometimes one must be willing to do what others will not, to reach their goal...but flowers bloom under sunlight and water, not blood. If we could avoid burning a forest to the ground, wouldn’t it then be easier to bring it back to life?”

“Yes...but if someone wants to set a forest ablaze, you have to act if you want to stop them.”

Carewyn’s response was very soft and solemn, but there was no anger or disapproval -- instead, to Orion’s immense relief, it sounded almost encouraging.

“If you believe that Royaume could make peace with Florence, then you need to speak out for it,” she said firmly. “If you see it and believe in it, that’s great...but you need to make others see and believe in it too, if it’s going to really come about. Talk to your father, make him see things as you do -- and if he isn’t able to, then...well, I’ll talk to Andre, and you and he can discuss it together.”

Her lips spread into a gentle smile and she gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“My own family may have profited because of the War, but the people of Royaume, the common man, would celebrate, if peace could come about without further loss. If Florence would also, then that’s a step in the right direction. There’s more than one way to fight for something...all it requires is enough courage to place one’s goal over whatever risks stand in their way.”

Orion stared at Carewyn for a long moment. As he did, the black of his eyes seemed to melt, gaining a warmer, softer light that resembled candlelight rippling in endless, dark water.

“...Carewyn...”

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a loud explosion in the distance. Carewyn’s horse reared back in terror, which in turn spooked Orion’s, and both Carewyn and Orion had to quickly calm their steeds.

“Whoa, whoa,” Carewyn whispered in her horse’s ear, “easy, boy...it’s all right...”

Orion stroked his horse’s mane with a slightly trembling hand, breathing in and out as he tried to steady his heart rate. He then looked at Carewyn with a more serious eye.

“...Perhaps we should make our way back to the valley. It’s not safe here.”

Carewyn looked northward through the trees again. “Do you think your father’s started the attack?”

“No. Coordinated attacks require both strategy and assignments, as well as the element of surprise. I’d say this is a skirmish between younger, less experienced soldiers -- and if so, it’s likely to run farther afield and cause damage outside the designated battlefield.”

Orion could see Carewyn still hesitating. Although there was no fear in her face, she seemed reluctant to leave -- likely thinking of her brother, more than the risk to her own safety...

After a brief flicker of uncertainty, Orion reached out a hand and took hold of Carewyn’s arm not unlike how she’d taken his earlier.

“From everything I’ve heard from you about your brother, I truly cannot see him not doing everything he possibly can, to look out for your well-being...including looking after himself.”

A second smaller explosion in the distance made Orion stiffen slightly, his fingers tightening that bit around Carewyn’s arm.

“...We should move out of harm’s way,” he said as levelly as he could.

Seeing the paleness of Orion’s face, Carewyn relented at once.

“Yes.”

Bringing a hand up onto Orion’s horse’s reins, she directed both of them around so they could start riding back out the way they came.

As they came around a cluster of trees, however, their attention was caught by the sound of the cry of an eagle and many snapping branches. Carewyn’s horse reared back again, just barely dodging a large clump of golden-brown feathers that collided sharply with the ground.

Carewyn once again rushed to soothe her horse. Orion quickly climbed off his horse and bent down to get a better look at what had fallen.

It was a golden eagle, just as brilliant as the one they’d chased into the wood -- perhaps even the same one. It was conscious, but clearly in pain when it tried to return to the air -- its left wing crumpled up against its side and covered in blood and what looked like grayish ash.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed.

“Gunpowder,” he said. “The poor creature’s wing must have been struck by a stray bullet.”

Once she’d successfully soothed her white horse, Carewyn likewise jumped off its back. She dashed over to Orion, hitching up the skirt of her mother’s gown as she went.

“Can you hold him?” she asked.

The eagle gave an angry-sounding cry, baring its sharp talons at both of them, and it tried to hobble away back into the air with its one good wing.

“I don’t think he wants our help,” said Orion.

Undaunted, Carewyn ripped off some fabric from her outer-most petticoat. “Well, he needs it, whether he wants it or not. Can you hold him, please?”

Orion looked at the eagle. Rather than try to grab it, he met the eagle’s eyes and tried not to blink. The eagle looked back at him with a piercing gaze. When Orion extended a hand, the eagle lashed out its talons again -- Orion withdrew, but didn’t flinch.

“Steady,” he said gently.

He waited a moment, keeping eye contact with the bird, and then tried again. This time he was able to move close enough to touch before the eagle lashed out with its claws again.

“Peace,” said Orion patiently. “We mean you no harm, feathered friend.”

Another loud explosion in the distance made both the eagle and Orion flinch.

“That one sounded closer,” said Carewyn, her voice faintly tense but as gentle as she could. “We need to be quick.”

The flames of his childhood home were returning to Orion’s mind despite his best efforts, and he shut them out as best he could, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times. Once he’d reestablished his focus, Orion opened his eyes again.

The eagle looked from Orion to Carewyn almost critically. Finally, after Orion reached in for a third time, it let the Prince run a gentle hand over its back. Once the bird was calm, Orion then carefully extended its wing so that Carewyn could reach it.

“This will likely hurt him a little,” Carewyn told Orion. “Please hold him still, so he won’t fly away.”

Orion brought a hand around the eagle, which fidgeted and cried out indignantly, but did not claw or snap at them. With Orion holding out its wing, Carewyn was able to reach into its blood-soaked feathers and dislodge the bullet. The eagle gave an angry, pained cry, and Carewyn very quickly set about wrapping up the wound with the white fabric she’d ripped out of her petticoat.

“There,” breathed Carewyn, her red lips spreading into a smile. “That should help...”

The bird looked down at its wing, gingerly folding up against its side as it surveyed her with a very beady eye. With a soft click of her tongue against her teeth, she slowly extended an arm out, holding it very still like a branch.

“Climb on,” she cooed. “That’s it...”

The eagle peered Carewyn over, but after a long moment, it gradually scooted over and leapt up onto her arm. Its talons dug into the sleeve of her dress with strength, and it was heavier than Carewyn expected, but she with some difficulty just barely managed to hoist it up.

“Your talent with animals shines through again,” said Orion with a wry smile, clasping his hands lightly in front of him.

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Carewyn said amusedly. She brought a hand gently along the eagle’s comb. “You’re a very handsome bird, aren’t you? You poor thing...”

“You there!”

Both Orion and Carewyn looked up in great surprise.

Striding through the woods toward them was a very tall middle-aged woman. She wore a black capotain hat and an old-fashioned black dress with a white ruff around the collar, and her graying brown hair was tied up in an austere looking bun under her hat. Despite her apparent age, her step was strong and her posture as straight as a general’s.

“What are you doing here?” said the woman very sternly.

Carewyn stood a bit uneasily, thanks to the weight of the eagle on her arm, but she nonetheless straightened up, resting a hand on the eagle’s back almost protectively.

“We’re merely out riding, madam,” she said, not impolitely, but still confidently.

The woman peered down at both Orion and Carewyn with an eye almost as critical as the eagle’s had been as she crossed her arms. Her height made it so she towered over both of them with relative ease.

“Well, through your riding, you have trespassed on my land,” she said stiffly. “And it seems you’ve claimed something of mine.”

Her eyes flickered over to the eagle on Carewyn’s arm, taking in the makeshift bandage on its wing. The golden eagle gave a loud shriek -- the woman extended her arm, and it leapt the distance, landing on her arm instead. The older woman did not struggle to hold it up the way Carewyn had.

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Then...he’s yours?”

“Do you have others, like him?” Orion asked curiously.

The woman peered down at the bird on her arm with a look that was rather like a scolding, but still affectionate mother’s. “No -- he’s one of a kind. All the more reason why I’m pleased to see him safe, after coming so close to the enemy camp.”

The eagle bowed its head, its gaze flickering back over toward Carewyn and Orion. When another cluster of explosions rang out through the air, however, both the bird and Orion straightened up abruptly.

The woman looked northward, and then beckoned Carewyn and Orion after her with her hand.

“Come with me -- with the armies positioned just north of us and a band of Florentine bandits just south, the safest place at present to wait out this skirmish is my home.”

The woman introduced herself as the Baroness Minerva McGonagall. Carewyn felt like the surname was familiar somehow, but she couldn��t quite place it in her memory. Regardless, McGonagall led Carewyn and Orion out through the trees. Only once they crossed the perimeter of the trees and McGonagall gestured toward the valley below did Carewyn and Orion see her country estate. It was odd that they didn’t spot it sooner, for although the valley seemed to cradle the small chateau, it was a rather beautiful and open estate framed by a wrought iron gate. The property itself was made of aged brick and stone with stained glass windows and overgrown with ice-trimmed ivy.

After holding out her arm so that the eagle perched there could jump down on the railing beside the stone stairs that led up to the front door, the Baroness invited Orion and Carewyn inside. As stern as she’d first appeared, she actually was a very kind host -- after Orion and Carewyn’s horses were settled in her stable, she escorted the two into the dining hall, where she served them some rose water and ginger biscuits. Once inside the house, none of them could hear the explosions from the battlefield -- it was as though the walls cancelled out all sounds from outside even though they must’ve been so close.

Seeing that the Baroness had no servants to help her, Carewyn insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen and washing them, so as to thank the older woman for her hospitality. Despite being reluctant to accept the help at first, McGonagall eventually accepted it, her lips upturned in a rather dewy smile as Carewyn left the dining hall.

“Your riding companion has a very kind heart, Your Highness,” she said, once Carewyn was out of earshot.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“...You know me.”

"Naturally,” said McGonagall. “You do very much resemble your grandfather -- and your father as well, I expect.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“We met once, a very long time ago,” said McGonagall rather curtly. “Your name would also be Cosimo, correct?”

“I am called Orion,” said the Prince, his level voice dusted with the slightest edge. “By both my lady, and otherwise.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew a little smaller. “She comes from the Cromwell family, doesn’t she?”

Orion’s eyes narrowed that little bit more, but he did not reply.

“I suspected it due to her eyes,” said McGonagall, “but with how gentle they were, I wasn’t sure.”

Her eyebrows rose over her narrowed eyes as she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table.

“You have quite a predicament before you, Orion,” she said dryly, interlacing her fingers beside her chin.

Orion clasped his hands on the table in front of him, considering the Baroness carefully.

“Yet you decided not to approach me about it until Carewyn left the room,” he said levelly. “Is it because you suspected I knew your true identity, and why your house has been so miraculously shielded from the War raging on your doorstep?”

McGonagall peered at Orion over her hands with something like wry amusement. “Florentines are generally more favorable toward magic than Royaumanians. And considering your grandfather shielded my family after my mother accidentally killed the King and we fled across the border...well, it would be in-character for you, especially.”

“And yet you returned to the land that the King of Royaume had died trying to claim?” asked Orion. “Why?”

McGonagall gave a dismissive shrug. “It was our home. Even if we had to cast and recast illusions every day to prevent anyone else from finding it again, that was a cost we were willing to pay. And one I’m still willing to pay today, to protect those who live here.”

McGonagall’s eyes were drawn to the hallway -- a young man with tanned skin and a sharp nose had just paused in the door frame of the dining hall. His arm was in a makeshift sling and wrapped with what looked like bandages made out of petticoat fabric. When Orion turned around, the young man stared him down with just as beady of a look as the golden eagle from before had.

“The skirmish has ended, Baroness,” the man said brusquely.

“I hope you haven’t determined that by casting any more transfiguration spells, my young apprentice,” said McGonagall with a slightly reproachful look.

The apprentice’s nose wrinkled sourly. “No. The explosions have just stopped -- they probably decided it wasn’t worth trying to fire their cannons blindly in the dark.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Orion, you and Carewyn may leave when you wish. Though I would recommend you steer clear of the border. The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you...but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

Orion nodded. “I understand.”

“Make sure you bring her back to the palace safely,” said the apprentice, his eagle-like eyes still rather critical upon Orion. “It’s the least you can do, considering she doesn’t know the extent of the risk she’s taking, interacting with you.”

He swept down the hallway and out of sight, still holding his arm. Orion was a bit surprised that the Baroness’s apprentice knew where Carewyn worked -- but then, he recalled, he’d seen an eagle flying over his and Carewyn’s heads once, while they were walking through the market together, hadn’t he? Might it have been this man then, as well -- as it likely had, every time he’d seen an eagle while crossing the border?

McGonagall looked back at Orion, her expression a bit more solemn. “I understand your rationale behind not telling her of your identity, Orion...but remember -- deception is just like any magical spell. Even the most powerful ones in the world don’t last long.”

Orion bowed his head. “...I know.”

He knew none of this could last. He knew that once Carewyn knew who he was, everything between them would change, whether he wanted it to or not. He did think that Carewyn would understand -- he desperately hoped so -- but even so, it was sad to him, knowing that his happy times with Carewyn were doomed to be so fleeting...

“I just...want to enjoy my time with her as long as I can,” said Orion softly. “However fleeting it might be...even when it is over...at least then I can cherish the memory of those moments forever.”

McGonagall’s face grew a bit gentler, almost sympathetic. "I see...”

Carewyn returned at that moment, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her arm.

“Orion,” she said, “it looks like the stars have come out.”

Orion looked out the window. The sky was dark with night and shining with stars.

“So they have,” he said with a soft smile. He turned to McGonagall. “Forgive me, Baroness...but might we sit in the valley outside your home for a short while, before we leave?”

McGonagall smiled. “Of course.”

Orion and Carewyn found a grassy spot in the crest of the valley where they could sit and look up at the stars. Upon learning that Carewyn hadn’t ever gone stargazing before, Orion lay back against the grass and pointed out each constellation above them to Carewyn in turn -- the hero Perseus, his enemy the Cetus, and his future wife Andromeda -- -- the divine twins, Castor and Pollux, otherwise known as a pair as Gemini -- and the queen Cassiopeia, which made Carewyn laugh, thinking of her friend, KC. Carewyn loved listening to Orion’s stories: the way he would vividly embellish every detail and go off on philosophical tangents in the middle was oddly endearing. After he told his first tale about Perseus, Carewyn was reminded of the Song of Roland, an epic about a similarly grand hero, and soon Orion would ask her to sing something in response to every story he told, however weak the connection was. When they reached Cassiopeia’s tale, Carewyn sang one of her favorite songs, Greensleeves.

“I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would’st crave; I have waged both life and land, Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy; Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves...”

As before, Orion found himself closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Carewyn’s voice washing over him. At the end of this song in particular, however, when he opened his eyes, he found himself chuckling softly.

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Orion’s black eyes were sparkling like two miniature night skies as they ran over Carewyn sitting just below him. “It’s a lovely song, as always...but I have not ever seen my ‘star twin,’ so to speak, wearing green -- only ever black and blue. You, however...”

He took her hand so that he could extend her arm out like they were dancing, showing off the olive green sleeves of her dress.

“So it seems you are ‘my lady Greensleeves,’” said Orion with a wry smile.

“Oh, stop it,” Carewyn huffed, her cheeks burning as she withdrew her hand.

Orion laughed fully. It was the first time Carewyn had ever heard him laugh so openly before -- it was a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a chuckle, and yet so much brighter and warmer. Despite herself, Carewyn couldn’t fight back a full smile of her own. Her shoulder brushed up against Orion’s as she reclined back onto the grass, her body tilting slightly toward him as she looked up at the sky.

“...There’s a constellation called Orion, isn’t there?”

Orion smiled and traced the stars of the constellation with his finger. “Just there. Do you see his chest? And there’s his bow.”

“I see it!” said Carewyn excitedly. “His arm is arched back, right?”

“Yes -- he’s holding a club in his other hand. He was a great hunter, you see -- the greatest hunter, they say, aside from Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. Some say that he hunted alongside her. Others say she was his one and only love...and that she, likewise, never loved any other man, in all her days.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, Orion looked down at her. She was considering the constellation very carefully, looking oddly deep in thought.

Orion tilted his head to look better at her face. “Your eyes resemble a dark pool.”

Carewyn looked up, startled.

“They’re so deep and mysterious, I hardly know what is within them,” said Orion. “Yet I would dearly like to know, if you were willing to share their contents.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted back up to the sky uncomfortably.

“It’s just...I’m realizing that I don’t even know if Orion is your real name,” she murmured. “You said I could call you it...you did not say it was your name.”

Orion’s face became grimmer. His hands clasped over his chest and he too looked back up at the sky.

“...It’s not the name I was born with,” he admitted. “I chose the name myself, when I was young.”

The memory of the older boys at the workhouse shoving him, piling extra work on him, and mockingly bowing whenever he walked by rippled over his mind.

“Clear the floor for the Prince!”

“Why thank you, Prince Cosimo -- you’re too kind!”

“Does the mud add flavor, your Royal Highness?”

“When I was at the workhouse, my name...antagonized the other boys. So, to try to preempt the reactions, I started avoiding telling anyone my name. I would dread anyone ever asking.”

“Like when I asked you?” whispered Carewyn. Even though her eyes were averted, she was clearly very ashamed and upset.

Orion leaned against her slightly, offering her a gentle, reassuring expression. “No, Carewyn. I dreaded it when I had no answer I could give at all. It made me anxious...made me feel like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be...made it difficult for me to interact with much of anyone at all.”

He closed his eyes.

“But...after hearing the tale of the great hunter whose skill put him on the same level as a goddess...I decided that was who I’d be. I’d chase my dreams with just as much single-minded focus -- be just as free and strong of a man, by fighting the monster inside of myself.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion, her eyes rippling with sadness. “The monster inside of yourself?”

“Mm,” said Orion. “Mine is a frenetic beast. It makes it hard for me to think, act, or even breathe, when it’s particularly intense. It makes me question absolutely everything, including myself. It shouts so many things in my ears so loudly that I can’t move or react properly, and I have to break away from everything and everyone, just to silence it. Sometimes it even brings back bad memories that make the experience even worse.”

Carewyn was once again avoiding his eye, but it was largely because she was having trouble keeping her face stoic.

“...It’s terrible, when you feel like you can’t do anything,” she said lowly.

Orion didn’t speak. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to continue -- after a silence, she finally pressed on.

“When Jacob first went off to War...I felt so helpless. So...alone. And worse...I felt like that’s how I should be. Like I should be alone, and empty, and cold, and in pain, when Jacob was off at War suffering, while I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes darkened.

“There are times when...I think I still should be. Sometimes...well, it’s all the time.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and then looked up at Orion with a firmer expression.

“...But I know I can’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for myself -- not when I need to be strong, for Jacob’s sake. So I don’t.”

Orion’s black eyes softened visibly, rippling with empathy. “No...you certainly don’t.”

He paused. His eyes ran over Carewyn’s face, trailing through her hair hesitantly.

“Carewyn...” he said at last, very softly, “may I...?”

He swallowed.

“...May I rest my head, on top of yours?”

Carewyn’s face broke into a very sweet, tender smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Orion shifted over and, very tentatively, leaned back against the grass so that Carewyn’s head rested in the crook of his neck and his cheek rested against the top of her head. He closed his eyes -- she felt so warm...

“I...realize that the beasts inside of us are ours alone to face,” said Orion softly, “but...should you need a hunter to help you beat yours back...I will be here.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared up at Orion’s face. Her red lips slowly turned up in a smile that was full of pain, and yet also fuller still of love.

“And I will always help you fight yours,” she whispered. “If you need me...I will fight for you.”

Orion’s expression cleared, losing all tension as a smile pricked at the corners of his lips. He breathed deeply, his heart slowing to a wonderful peaceful beat as he took in the smell of her hair. Carewyn watched his serene, handsome face, and she found herself moving into him that bit more, just to get a better view. For that moment, it felt like the whole world outside wasn’t there -- that the War and the palace and the Cromwell clan and everything she was and wasn’t didn’t even exist...and in that moment, Carewyn realized...

If she was ever truly free, she would want to love the man called Orion with all of her heart.

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idealisticrealism · 4 years

Text

So, who wants to hear me gush about something in Blindspot that was almost certainly completely meaningless?

What is it, you (didn’t) ask?

It’s this.

So, let me start by saying that this scene was one of my favourite scenes of Blindspot, like ever. I am living for the friendship that is forming between these two, and the way they are helping each other through their individual traumas. The added dimension of former CIA agent Tasha helping Rich recover from his torture at the hands of the CIA is just so perfect, not to mention they have the added connection of knowing what it’s like to be a ‘bad guy’ operating outside the law.

(I also like to think that Jane and Tasha talked together about how to help Rich, but since Jane was already supporting her hubby as well as carrying the team, Tasha took the reins on this one.)

But even though I totally could gush about that scene (especially that hug omg), that’s not actually what this post is about. This post is about me being a HUGE NERD for IMPRESSIONISM.

(Still sure you want to get into this lol?)

Alright then, here goes:

So, this absolute classic is probably at least vaguely familiar to a lot of people; it’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat, painted in the mid 1880s, and arguably his most famous work.

(While watching the ep I initially took it for a Monet at first glance, which is super embarrassing for me but also I can’t help that I have this like Pavlovian response to Impressionism that makes me go YO IS THAT MY BOY MONET YOOOO the moment I see any painting even remotely of the style lol)

But let me tell you why I am losing my nerdy marbles over the use of this artwork in the show (even though I am very certain that they probably just used whatever relatively recognisable piece they could find that didn’t have any like copyright stuff attached) because oh boy do I have Thoughts.

So let’s get analytical up in this biz....

First off, there’s the big one: it’s an Impressionist piece. The very foundation of the style is that from afar, all looks normal, but when you actually look closely, everything is blurred and distorted; nothing is distinct. Which is doubly appropriate for this show: firstly, the team is currently pursuing a mission that seems clear-cut (to clear their names and get their lives back, to free the FBI of Madeline’s corruption) but which actually involves a lot of uncertainty and murkiness and blurred lines (are we willing to break multiple laws? to potentially kill people deliberately, not just in self-defense? how far are we willing to go to achieve our mission, and if we succeed, will we still be the same? etc). Secondly, and more relevantly to this particular scene, the style is fitting for Rich himself following his experience in the blacksite. Look from a distance, and he seems alright, still normal (or as normal as Rich could ever be). But look close, and you start to see that everything is actually hazy and muddled, the cracks starting to show. He is not okay.

But wait, there’s more! Because this work isn’t just Impressionist, it’s Neo-Impressionist (specifically, Pointilist) which ol’ boy Georges was one of the pioneers of-- he was literally considered a renegade because of it, a rebel operating against the status quo, which I find very appropriate for our own little band of rebels lol. But the point (lol) of Pointilism is to create scenes filled with vivid colours, ones that almost seem to jump out of the canvas, which is achieved by combining small brushstrokes (points) of different colours which from further away appear to be practically just one bright colour. So again, looking from a distance you see one thing, and from up close you see that it’s actually more complicated than that. Like this team; they’re all individuals, all their own distinct colours, but look at the bigger picture and you see that they blend together to create a balanced, harmonious whole. And that same concept can be applied to them all individually, too-- each one of them is made up by a veritable rainbow of traits. Light, dark, and everything in between; every stroke makes them who they are.

But that’s just the style, though, which is only the half of it. Look at the actual subject of the painting; at its setting. Art is an escape from one’s own reality, and for someone practically trapped in a concrete box underground, what better choice of escape is there than a scene of people happily enjoying the outdoors, spending time in the midst of sunshine and nature, with no walls or ceilings in sight, no one being hunted or hurt? See, too, how the foreground of the painting is in shadow-- it gives the sense that the viewer is in shadow too, the dimness of the bunker and the shadow of the painting blending together, like if Rich were to stand in front of the painting and step forward, he’d be stepping out onto the grass. It’s a hopeful thought; the team might be in shadow right now, but the light of day isn’t so far away. A little longer, a little further, and they’ll be out there too, enjoying their lives and their freedom just like the people in the painting.

And speaking of the people in the painting... there’s a few other little things about this painting that makes me love that it was the one they chose. Firstly, I love that Tasha brought Rich a painting which was described with words like ‘bedlam’, ‘scandal’, and ‘hilarity’ when it was first exhibited, which are probably the exact words that would come to mind if you had to describe Rich and his life in three words lol (pre-blacksite, sadly). Though the painting looks very normal and serene to us, when you look closely, there are a couple of pretty weird things, especially for that time. For one, the woman in the foreground has a pet monkey on a leash, which I think is a fairly apt representation of Rich’s role in the team haha, particularly early on. There’s also a lady off to the left who is fishing, and if I remember correctly, she was thought to symbolise a prostitute reeling in her clients down by the docks/waterside lol, an interpretation which I feel like Rich would absolutely love. In a more Blindspot-specific sense, another character of interest is the man lounging right near the front-- I can’t be the only one who thinks he looks just like ‘old’ Weller, right down to the little hat? The fact that his outfit seems out of place for the time, and also the subtle... sexiness (for the lack of a better word lol) of his clothes and pose makes it feel like Rich’s consciousness could have conjured him there (bc lbr, we all know Rich loves some sexy Weller). And lastly, I can’t not mention the little girl in the center, who is famously considered to be staring right at the viewer of the painting, as if fully aware she’s being observed and totally ready to throw down about it. And I know that this one is extra silly and had obviously never crossed the prop-designer’s mind, but, well... this painting is French, and if someone asked me to think of an appropriate name for a little French schoolgirl, I would pick the name of the one I spent many hours of my childhood watching cartoons and reading books about: Madeline.

As a last, final bonus (and yet another totally irrelevant thing that I am ascribing my own meaning to), just look out on the water in the distance-- there’s what appears to be a steamboat. Or is it The Boat, and is it sinking, a plume of smoke rising from it as it goes down in flames?

But that’s the thing about art, isn’t it; there’s no limit to what we see in it. So when Rich looks at this gift, I hope he sees freedom. Hope. A future in the sun.

Because he’s earned it.

They all have.

#Blindspot #Blindspot spoilers #Impressionism #LOOK I KNOW THIS IS RIDICULOUS #BUT I JUST LOVE IMPRESSIONISM OKAY #AND SYMBOLISM #AND RICH #AND THIS SCENE #don't ask me anything about literally any other art style bc I would not have a clue #god I'm so curious to know if the choice was even slightly deliberate #it won't be #but still

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inventors-fair · 4 years

Text

Rock and Roil Commentary

What a wild one! Everyone did a great job this week, I saw a lot of really creative cards, and I was happy that we same a very nice mix of lands and non-lands. I noticed a common trend in a lot of them. I wish in my article I had talked about the idea of giving the player the choice. We had a lot of entries that either forced the lands to become creatures, or turned them in to creatures permanently. I don’t know if people realized how dangerous that is, making players put their lands at risk of getting hit by removal or sweepers with very little way to protect them. I don’t think every card should have avoided it, I just worry that some people didn’t realise it was as much of a downside it is. Also, nobody wanted to make a lategame beater like most of the landfolk are, everyone wanted to make giant busted gods.

Anyway, here’s the commentary for everybody! It’s in alphabetical order based on your tumblr name.

@dabudder - Oran-Rief Awakening

I see you took this contest to its logical conclusion. What if they were all creatures? First things first, I like the first trigger. I like how it’s optional, I like how it trigger at combat, I like how it untaps the land as some sort of weird ramp, I wish it granted haste. I like how it can either be a sort of slow finisher in green ramp decks or a way to turn your ramp spells into blockers as you wait for your big stuff to come out. Pretty good. The win the game trigger, however, I do not like. A five mana enchantment that wins the game with nothing but a Zuran Orb is too strong in my book. It’s also not hard to ramp this out with creatures by turn 3, giving you only 3 lands you need to animate. I really wish this were more like a planeswalker ultimate, where it only MOSTLY wins you the game. Preferably something that scales with land creatures, such as “put X +1/+1 counters on each land creature you control.” Your heart’s in the right place, I just wish you would have made the payoff a little more interesting.

@deafeningsandwichpeach - Ranged Wildlands // Borlox

There is a LOT of text on this card. Enters tapped unless you control an animal, sure, though might be a little strong considering it’s already fine as a tapped triland. The Slate of Ancestry ability is REALLY strong on a land, considering it still seems some minor play when it cost 4 mana to play. And the Borlox, which admittedly does cost a lot to flip, is also really really powerful. I think you could remove half the abilities form both sides of this card and it would still see tons play. On non-power level concerns, I think the card may be trying to pull in too many directions. Try focusing it into doing just one thing well instead of a lot of things all at once.

@emmypupcake - Flooding Mire // Deepmire Serpent

One of the few untapped lands, but the fact that it can only flip on endstep is a really cool way to sidestep the haste issue. I also really like that mana fixing downside because it is a pretty major downside, especially in decks that are playing enough basics to flip it. But boy, that downside is really made up for on such a strong card. In a controlling shell, that guy can really do a lot of damage (figuratively). It might be decent in aggressive becks as well, but the unreliant nature of the mana and the creature might be more trouble than an agro deck wants. Which brings me to my biggest issue with this card, and it’s a big one: the flip isn’t optional. This means that a control deck might be forced to keep lands in hand to not flip it (either this land or basics), or play the land just to lose another. I know it can be played around with appropriate sequencing and deck building, but it just seems like an unnecessary problem. If you just put “may” on this card, it becomes a lot cleaner of an execution.

@fractured-infinity - Presence of Solara

I was expecting a lot more auras, but I’m happy with this one. So, at three mana this plays like a slightly worse Dungrove Elder, trading off hexproof for trample and some commander stuff, but I don’t think the trade-off is quite worth it. I really like the presence mechanic, and I like how you incorporated commander damage into it, though I’d be worried about Presence on an equipment. But as for the card itself, it seems fine, I could see a lot of decks using it, but it’s not really pushing any design space, and I don’t understand why it needs to be an aura as opposed to just a creature with the P/T ability. I know there’s stuff that can be done with that, like arbor elf to give it vigilance or animating a Nykthos so you can untap it with creature untap abilities, but those combos seem pretty minor as opposed to the headache of rules or losing a land every time someone kills your commander.

@dimestoretajic - Sower of Vengeance

Wow, that’s a card. This is a fun card to read as it just gets nuts the further you go. It’s in the right colors, the set symbol is good, the abilities all interact in cool ways, the theme is fun. I checked, though, and multi-blocking doesn’t grant more than one counter, so that’s awkward. I like the idea of storing up damage until it dies and you get a massive army of huge creatures, but I think there could have been a neater way to do it. As is, some lands will have different counters than others, and some won’t be able to attack but others might. I also wish it only lasted for a turn, instead of lasting forever. It’s bound to either win you the game or lose you it very quickly. All that said, as messy as a card it is to play, I can’t ignore the fact that there’s a lot of really cool ideas going on here, and out of all of the hard to gauge cards submitted, this was the one I most hope is playable.

@gofytomcat1 - Monument to the Ancient Way

Always nice to see jeskai representation. I like the strict upgrade to mystic monastery, a card that was just barely under playable in standard, but sees a lot of play in casual formats. I like the cost on the activation: a 3/2 flyer for 4 is good, but the three color restriction reins it in a bit. I like prowess here for the jeskai throwback but I think it plays a little bit against the card. The fact that you could activate the ability twice means you could get two instances of prowess, which will both trigger independently, and if you somehow activate a second time after casting spells, you will have to remember that some spells have been doubled up and some haven’t. Also, you’re usually going to be activating this late game when you’re out of cards in hand and have nothing better to do with your mana, so prowess won’t come up often, which I guess is good considering what I just mentioned. Anyway, good card! Prowess is a little awkward on it, but I like what it does in the colors it’s in.

@gollumni - Krug, Utmungr Worshipper

So it ramps when attacking, and has menace? Seems solid. I like how it’s not ramp unless your opponent’s board is clear enough, but maybe that’s fine because you can always choose to not do it. I’d almost suggest to give the land menace instead of trample to link it closer with Krug, but it’s fine as is. Very solid card, not much to say.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes - Dormant Earth

Lots going on here, but I think I like it for the most part. I like the bounce effect, it’s something you don’t see a ton but works really well in land-centric decks. It also helps balance the manaless activation cost. I like the simple ETB tapped effect to deal with haste problems and the colors are good. As for the main event, the landfall ability, I’m a little torn. I like using landfall as an animation tool, since if you’re topdecking lands, chances are you’re fine throwing one into combat. I really wish it didn’t trigger itself, but I know landfall has to trigger on all lands, so your hands were kind of tied there. Similarly, I wish it was optional, since getting your land hit by a bolt when it entered tapped anyway and wasn’t going to attack just feels bad. I think this card was just a scant few steps from being at the top.

@illharg-the-rave-boar - Tomb of the Buried Ancients

This card scares me. Any land that can tap for multiple mana is terrifying, and giving it to dredge is a whole other thing. The downside is paying life, which as we all know, is why no one play ancient tomb (hey wait a minute). But I said I’d be judging cards in a standard-level environment, and it’s much tougher to self-mill in standard, but a couple looting effects and you have an extra mana or two scarily easily. As for the animating ability, it seems by far to be in the background. Not being usable until you’re got 10 or 11 mana means it’s not going to see use except in some very long games (which if you’re acelerating with this, probably won’t happen). It’s also odd that the untap ability wants deserts in your graveyard but the animating turns them indestructible. I really wish that last ability weren’t on there, because otherwise I think this would be a great card, but with it there I just think it will break... everything.

@industrialsalad - Genju of the Future

Callbacks on callbacks on callbacks. I like the use of frame, considering it’s using a future sight mechanic (and has future in the name). I like the card! Paying two to make a land into a 2/2 is pretty good, especially at uncommon, and making it repeatable is nice. It’s a good way to deal with flood but has use in the early game if need be. I don’t understand the need for the unattach clause, other than to prevent animating multiple lands in a turn, but that doesn’t seem like THAT bad of an idea. Upping the fortify cost could have covered that, which I probably would have suggested anyway. I just worry that playing it, fortifying for free without intent to use it for a few turns, then getting hit with a naturalize that also takes out your land is rough. I know it’s flavorful, but it makes for some disheartening gameplay. I think this is a really cool idea and a lot of it is done really well and cleverly, but it just needed a little more time in the oven.

@kavinka - Face Island

I liked this card when I first read it, but the more I thought about it the less I liked it. At first I liked how it has a straightforward enters-tapped taps for blue base, and I like how the ability is really pricey, meaning it’s meant only for late-game decks (which is what blue usually wants). But there are a bunch of minor things that bug me. First, the last ability is worded such that it isn’t obvious if it needs to be a creature or not for it to “die.” If not, this is very strong with cards that let you sacrifice lands, but I don’t think that’s the intent. I like how it gives you a consolation prize if your opponent kills your expensive creature, but the prize is 2 more lands when you already had at least 11. And lastly, the fact that the giant has reach, while I’m sure it’s just for flavor, makes me think you’re going to block with it somehow, which seems... unlikely. So, as whole it’s very good, but starts to break apart after some thought.

mardu-lesbian - Barricade Inciter

In soviet gruul, gate crashes YOU. Old memes aside, a neat card. I like gate synergies, I like the menace. I don’t quite understand the 2brid mana, it seems kind of unnecessary, since at rare this is mostly going to be constructed, and you should be able to make triple green pretty easy by turn four in ravnica blocks. I also don’t quite get the untap. Usually animation spells that untap are nissa abilities that use them to generate mana. If it’s just there so you can target a gate that you already used to pay for the ability, I think that it’s okay to ask them to pay attnetion to what they’re tapping. As for the ability itself, I like it, but I really wish that fight were optional, especially with a three toughness creature. I know you could always just target a basic, but the fact that it could actually be a downside on a bad draw is a little awkward. I don’t know how I feel about it also being gate hate (since you can target opponent’s gates), but I don’t think it’ll come up except in super awkward mirror matches. There’s a lot of things I like on this card, but I wish it had just a few less quirky interactions.

@monoblue82 - Mountain Memorialist

Mount Rushmore maker? Cool concept. I get why you made it red: red gets land animating, red is the color of artists, and its got mountain in the name! But this is definitely a black card. Even though it’s happening to a land, this is a reanimation spell. It is taking a creature card in a graveyard and making it be in play. If it were black, I’d say the card was fine. It seems weird that the card would still be a land, but all of the land abilities would be overwritten. I think. I don’t know if keeping it as a land lets it keep its land subtypes. I think the ability might be a little overcosted, based on Obsessive Stitcher, but I’m not sure. This is a tough card to evaluate, but my main concern is just that it isn’t red.

@nine-effing-hells Hojamu, Quiescent Caldera // Rohojam, Raging Heart of the Land

The volcano requires a sacrifice. Nice. So, sacrifice a creature, get an 8/8 first strike trample? And your opponent can only stop it by sacrificing creatures? And if they don’t have any, they’re screwed? I think this might be a bit too good compared to effects like jinxed idol that also bounce back and forth by saccing creatures, but kill much slower than this. It also seems weird that this god isn’t indestructible, considering the amount of effort it takes to bring him out. I really like the story it’s telling, but I think it would have played better on an enchantment.

@reaperfromtheabyss - Sacellum of the Sun

I like what this card is trying to do. I like the very slight but not insignificant downside. I like how the color ability requires a permanent in play, and the animate ability also requires permanents in play. I also like that this is in white. I’m sure it’s meant to be a cycle, but white specifically has access to a lot of high-devotion permanents that are relatively hard to remove. I really like how this card helps enchantment (especially prison) decks close out the game, even getting through Enduring Ideal. There is a little bit of issue when it comes to summoning sickness, since you don’t want to give it haste as it’s sort of a white card, but if you have two in play, it’s very easy to misclick if you’re playing on a digital client. I’m also concerned on the blowout potential of removal in response to the activation, which isn’t fun, but I think if you’re at the point where you’re turning a land into a creature with only one card giving devotion, you know what you’re risking. so yes, a very well made card with a couple of random minor nitpicks.

@shakeszx - Standing Battlements

More fortify! Cool! I like the replacement effect, I think it is phrased correctly. It’s actually kind of cool how, even though damage doesn’t get removed, it’s no longer a creature, so if it dies in combat you’ll end up with a land with damage marked on it (just don’t attach another standing battlements to it). I also like how the replacement effect interacts with it being a fortification. If it was an aura, it would just have totem armor, but you instead give the player the opportunity to just lose out on a land if they would rather have the battlements out. I’m not sure on the cost of this fortification, since you’ve basically got a blackblade reforge that can attach to lands, but also costs colored mana, but also protects the user. If I were playing it safe I’d tack another mana onto the casting cost, but I kinda just like playing it safe. I also don’t know what deck outside of limited wants this, since it feels aggressive but kind of requires a lot of mana to make use out of. There’s some real cleverness to it, but I just don’t know where it goes.

@shandylamb - Consuming Marsh

You asked, and yes, this fits the bill. This card compares very favorably to Hissing Quagmire. gaining haste and dropping the cost but instead sacrificing a creature, which on its own isn’t a fair trade, but having the land itself enter more than makes up for it. In fact, it makes up for it a bit too much. Any land that enters the battlefeld untapped unconditionally already has some power concerns, but tapping for two different colors of mana and being able to turn into a creature pushes this way over the edge. That said, in a world where lands were allowed to be a little stronger than basics, I could see this being a very cool, fun, good card. Deathtouch and haste is a good way to get through board stalls, which is when sacrificing a creature is easiest. If it weren’t for power level, I think this card easily could have made it into the runner ups.

@shootingstarhunter - Soiled Spirit

I’m down with this bog. I like the tap condition (I would have been fine if you put the Morbid ability word on it) to power it down just a little, but still comes into play tapped if played on turn one or two. I like how powerful that last ability is, letting you slowly accumulate counters over time until you’re ready. I like how it still needs some building around, since you need to find a way to kill a creature before combat. I think in the deck that wants this, it’ll be a fun, good enough card, but requires enough to go your way that it’s not too powerful. I think it’s a nice card, but I do wish it had a bit more of an out if you’re going against hard control or something else creature light and counter heavy. I think this guy would end up stranded in play pretty often. Though thanks for making it a may! You were one of the few who caught that.

@snugz - Blackgrove Bastion

So, if you’re really flooding, you can use lands in hand to turn lands in play into big beaters. Honestly, you could have just stopped there. I don’t think having to bounce the land is necessary. You’ve already discarded a card, paid for the fortification, turned your land into removal bait, and risked your creature in combat. The fact that you can’t even tap it for mana without it bouncing is rough, too. I think you could afford to drop that ability or turn the equip into a mana cost and be fine. I appreciate the haste concern.

@socialpoison - Garom, the Loamwarden

I know plant thing when I see him. I like how this is a new type of land animation that plays on a few angles. If you ignore everything else, he’s a 5/5 for 5 that you can basically regernerate by paying 2 or more and sacrificing a land. I also like how it keeps getting pricier everytime you do it so he’s not too tough to kill, but he can make that cheaper, though even with that I think you didn’t need to up the price THAT much. It’s already pretty difficult to make sure it dies when you have mana open, I don’t think you also need to punish players who take advantage of its main mechanic. The flavor of him coming back is really cool, too. At first I didn’t really understand the last ability, but I get that it’s a way to offset the fact that you keep turning your land into creatures and having them die. It’s a little hard to judge how powerful that ability is on its own considering it’s a free sac outlet and graveyard recursion, but only for the weakest permanent type. Newer players might also think that they could return the land they sacrificed, but on a mythic (though I think this would be fine at rare) I think it’s fine to be a little counterintuitive. Altogether it’s a cool card, but for a legendary mythic I kind of expected something a little bolder.

@starch255 - Iotrene, Vengeful Arbor

So what if Urborg was alos dryad arbor? I’m not a judge (well, not that kind) so I’m just going to pretend that it will never cause rules problems. At least none of the effects take place in zones other than the battlefield. Anyway, the card itself seems... just kind of bad? It seems really risky to turn all of your lands into very tiny easily killable creatures, and if you’re not mono-green, then you’re just turning some of your lands into 1/1s. I think it has combo potential, but I don’t think this card is worth the headache to play. Points for trying though, your execution is perfect, no formatting issues I can see and you even got the reminder text in there!

@teaxch - Stalking Hemlock

What if Kamahl was a Stronghold Assassin? I actually like all of the intersections of abilities on this card and how many options it gives. Four mana and tap to sac a land/creature to kill a land/creature is cool from a design stanpoint, but it’s really hard for me to approve of repeatable land destruction in standard. This is one of those “if it survives, I win, if it dies, I don’t” that reminds me of cards like Mercurial Chemister and WAR Nissa. I think that makes it tough for this to see play in competitive formats, and the land destruction angle makes it hard to play in casual formats. A very clever card, but I just don’t know what to do with it. The flavor text, however, would have gotten you into the winners circle alone if I didn’t have the fair’s reputation to uphold.

@thedirtside - Unhallowed Ground

I like the understated nature of this card. It starts off as just a guildgate, and the ability is a little tough to activate, being two colors and requiring a card in a graveyard, and the size of the creature is a little small, but altogether it comes off as a neat little uncommon. As I said in my example post, graveyard hate in the land slot is always nice, and this serves as a great way to punish slower graveyard decks like some of the god-pharoah’s gift decks in historic right now. Even at uncommon, I think this card could afford to be pushed just a little more, perhaps by making a bigger creature, because as is it’s hard to reason spending effectively 3 mana for a 2/2 for a turn compared to cards like mutavault and Mishra’s Factory. Still, not a bad card, I like what you’ve done.

@tmstage - Facsimilake

Love the pun. The card’s pretty good, too! I like how it’s got a bit of a pricey activation compared to a lot of landfolk, but this one definitely needed it. Five mana reanimation on a land is very strong (Atzal comes to mind), and the fact that it doesn’t exile the card means you can do it again next turn. I think the enchantment nature of the card does more harm than good in both design and play: the fact that your land can be erased for a single mana at instant speed is a nice downside to bring the power down a bit, but there are going to be some decks that ignore its activated ability entirely ad just play it as a constellation enabler. It just seems a little unnecessary, at least before it transforms. I also think you probably could have skipped the “still a land” and mana ability since it’s unlikely to become relevant unless something has gone terribly wrong, in which case it’s fine to punish reanimator players. So yeah, a little unfocused and overpowered, but a neat card that has potential.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path Spine of Lasai // Lasair the World Eater

Getting some very nice hideaway land vibes, but what if valakut? I like random red rares that are just like “sorry you didn’t burn them out, have a consollation” like Valakut and dragonmaster outcast. Big red is also always fun. So this is already looking very good! I like the flying 8/8 trample, I like how it being a land is flavorful but also sneakily lets it avoid some removal considering it’s a finisher, and I like that its ability ties into its flip condition. I kind of wish the front half weren’t legendary, but I know that feels really weird, but legendary lands are just always a bit of a bummer, especially tapped ones that don’t even act as one-of mana. Making it fetchable kinda evens that out, meaning that you can have just one in the deck but still have 8. Anyway, the real meat of it: that activate ability. I think it is way too strong outside of multiplayer. If you do nothing but play mountains and this card, you can win as soon as it flips by tapping all of your mountains to pay for themselves and dealing 21 to your opponent’s face. I know that doesn’t make it that much stronger than valakut, but valakut is a broken card. I think if the mana cost was even just two mana this card might be fine. That’s my only problem with the card. otherwise I love it.

That’s all folks! See you at some point in the future

-Mod Mr. ShinyObject

#contest #entries #rock and roil #custom magic card #inventor's fair #mtg #commentary

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vinnie2757 · 4 years

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43. Dying

@alltherobins asked for a bunch, including this one. Sorry it took so long to get to! It’s a little short, too, but I don’t think it needed to be any longer. From this post as always, and feel free to prompt more!!!!

Shera is not afraid of dying. She’s never really been afraid of dying. At fifteen, she learnt of a sister she never knew she had, who’d died when she was six, and who’s body had never been recovered, or sent home, or seen. She still, a decade later, doesn’t know what happened to it, whether there was a body, or if she was just spirited away in that way ShinRa has with the people it doesn’t like.

Maybe she’s still alive, maybe she ran away and went somewhere nobody could find her.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same; Shera is not afraid of death.

People die at her dad’s clinic, and animals die in the woods around their home, and people die on the news. She was a teenager, staying up late and staring blindly at blueprints as the news in the background regurgitated statistic after statistic after statistic, reading out the latest death tolls of the war, all the men and women and children that had died that day, week, month. It’s endless, and it goes on and on and on, and Shera mindlessly writes the numbers down instead of her calculations and it’s only in the morning when she looks at it in the cold light of day that the enormity of it hits her. The reality. The coldness of how big the numbers are.

And she’d played a part in it, a large part if you believed the propaganda. It wasn’t even her specialism, in the end, but she’d redesigned the aircraft, and she’d thrown the golden boy himself into the skies, and she’d been ultimately responsible for the amount of damage he and his crew of flyboys were able to do. It was her creation.

Okay, sure, once she’d designed the aircraft, someone else had put the guns in, but it didn’t change that it was her ship, her design, her engineering.

If she was one to swear, she’d swear up a storm of disbelief at her own ignorance.

So death has been a big part of her life, from her childhood, to her teens, to her adulthood, where her mortality stares her in the face, and one morning she wakes up acutely aware that she’s now older than her sister.

Reine asks her if she’s okay when she goes down to breakfast in the morning.

‘Yeah,’ Shera sighs, sitting at the table as Reine potters about with the kettle and a bag of oats, ‘yeah, I think so. I didn’t sleep too well.’

Reine rests a hand on the girl’s head for a moment, and then chucks her chin and goes to make her a cup of tea. Shera stays sat at the table, fiddling with her fingers and staring at the wall, and flinches when Reine places the mug down in front of her.

She’s still all out of sorts when the Captain comes banging in, door swinging on its hinges and his presence too loud in the still quietness of her contemplation. Reine manages to catch him before his baritone breaks the last vestiges of her composure, and drags him aside. Shera cannot hear what they say, but their whispers are harried, confused, concerned.

‘The fuck does that mean?’ the Captain bursts out, and she can imagine him shaking his head.

His boots thud, thud, thud on the floorboards, and the chair creaks when he throws himself into it.

‘Here, four-eyes,’ he says, and shoves a blueprint at her. ‘Take a look at this, I made some improvements.’

She looks at it, and frowns over the calculations, pulling a pen from her ponytail, where pens just seem to migrate, and picks apart his sums. Reine sets a bowl of oats down in front of them both, and Shera half-heartedly spoons it into her mouth as she scribbles with the other hand.

‘I didn’t think they were that off,’ the Captain says, and Shera shrugs one shoulder.

‘Just checking,’ she replies, and when she’s done, she shoves them back across the table.

One side of the blueprint has shifted little more than a millimetre. It will make all the difference. The Captain examines her version of the sums as he eats his bowl of oats, and hums around a mouthful.

‘Thanks,’ he says, ‘didn’t carry the one.’

She offers him a smile, bleak and without humour, and he frowns at her.

‘What’s eating you?’ he asks, ‘pretty sure you’re meant to eat your breakfast, not the other way around.’

It doesn’t get the reaction he was obviously hoping for. She shrugs. He frowns some more, looks back at his bowl.

‘Listen,’ he says, ‘if you want to go home.’

‘No,’ she interrupts. ‘No, it’s fine. I don’t need to go home. I just. I slept badly.’

He studies her face, and she’d blush, on any other day. He never really looks at her, and on any other day, she’d be fighting the urge to fuss with her hair, her glasses, try to make herself pretty under his scrutiny, to pass some kind of test she can’t identify. She wants to be pretty for him, to get his attention, to be viable. But today is not that day, and she doesn’t care. She’s older than her sister, and no matter what, said sister will never be able to meet any partner she has, anyone she might bring home, or to her house, or whatever. She’ll never be able to get her sister’s opinion. So it doesn’t matter.

The Captain leaves her to it after he’s finished his breakfast, unable to work out what it is that’s wrong, and thereby, how to ignore it until it goes away. Shera herself cannot really tell him what’s wrong, because how do you put the nihilistic realisation that you don’t care for your own mortality into words he’d understand?

Reine tiptoes around her for the rest of the morning, so Shera abandons her tea – which will only cause more concern – and goes to get herself ready for the day.

In a few days, the awareness of her mortality will pass, at least the sharpness of it will dull, and she’ll be herself again. But for now, she wallows in it, she revels in the emptiness it leaves her with, and that is too positive a spin, but she’s trying her hardest. She knows she’s wallowing, but she finds it hard to care, and harder still to change the pattern. The Captain, to his credit, does not pussyfoot about; he’s as loud and as brash as ever, insulting her work and calling her names, and she appreciates that he doesn’t know how to change to make her better, so he just sticks with what he knows and hopes it’s enough.

She’ll die for him, this she knows in that moment, as he looks at her over dinner and judges a poorly timed joke before making it anyway. She’ll die for him, because he has a dream, he has something that he’s found to make him feel alive, and he’s holding on with both hands, and he’s not going to let go of that, and Shera envies it. She envies it, and she knows that he’ll probably die in pursuit of it. If he doesn’t, she will. She’s fine with that. It’s just the way these things are, and she’s okay with it.

Shera is not afraid of dying, and when she wakes up on the morning of April the twelfth, she knows that she’s looking at it.

#shera highwind #preship #cidshera #vince writes #alltherobins

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crybabytoy59 · 4 years

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Double trouble pt2.

As they both undid me from the bouncer I wobbled due to the ridged boots, Mummy Rebecca removed the spreader bar as Mummy Sadie was loosing my face harnessing, Rebecca asked her what she was doing? Mummy Sadie replied to her “I just had a thought why don’t you get the rack out as I think Crybabysissypants would be more competitive after half an hour on it..what you think Mummy Rebecca the Disobedient cap?” Mummy Rebecca patted my rear “Mummy Sadie your so Bad !!... poor Baby girlie I think she will struggle on the rack ..but I Do Agree she was very Naughty braking your beam earlier So Yes a Perfect idea to have her improve her Obedience....won’t it Madam !” She smacked the back of my thigh hard as Mummy Sadie guided me over to what Rebecca had pulled out from behind the Cot.A strange looking stainless steel arch around 4ft high and 5ftlong with bars over the arch at around 3” apart, Mummy Sadie was at my boots as I stood in front of it my legs got some relief as she undid the side rods holding them ridged she then Smacked the opposite thigh from Rebecca then spoke “Now Crybabysissypants I want you to thank Mummy Rebecca as she made All of your Furniture go ahead nice and Loud Baby.. fwank’u Mummy Rebecca fwor mwaking mwee lowvely fworniture! They both giggled as Mummy Rebecca lead me in front of the frame She patted my gag “Open Wide Baby..no talking ! (She removed the cock gagging & harnessing as I kept my mouth wide open she lifted a small steel wedge that fitted between my teeth first the right then the left, next she turned a small screw at the Center a few turns on each until my mouth was opened fully) Clever Baby now your handies (she undid the cuffs from the baby reins behind me as I whimpered due to my arms being confined they hurt but she Patted my nappy “Ok Baby lay backwards & give mummy Sadie your handies as I did Mummy Sadie took my mittens then put a foot on the frame pulling with all her force “Up we come Baby... bit more Mummy Rebecca....that’s her there can fix her leggies “ Mummy Rebecca reaches up for cuffs but Mummy Sadie had other plans “No Mummy Rebecca not them....Crybabysissypants was Naughty use the Big cable ties” Mummy Rebecca giggled “Mummy Sadie your so Bad ...but yes Naughty Crybabysissypants needs to learn” she handed Sadie two foot long cable ties as Mummy Sadie pulled on around my right wrist securing my arm far down arched past my head, the second one made me arch upwards over the frame my rib cage opened outwardly as I grunted from my open mouth ! Mummy Rebecca pushed my legs to the width of the frame then fitted a cable tie. I was now ridged over the frame only my head had movement...Mummy Sadie looked down at me. “ Now naughty Baby take a Deep Breath for us” Mummy Rebecca had joined her as she pulled a soft rubber hood over my head then down over my face sealing itself over my face I could no longer breath ! I sucked in the soft rubber but there was no give Mummy Sadie spoke to me “Baby listen Very carful Mummy Rebecca is going to push this down your Throat if you gag I will put the mask back on until You Are a Clever girlie for her I suggest You learn fast Crybabysissypants “ Mummy Rebecca held up a long flexing cock around a foot long...Mummy Sadie removed the hood & Mummy Rebecca pushed the cock into my mouth slowly fucking my mouth deeper & deeper till I gagged “Bad Baby !” Mummy Sadie pulled the mask back on until I thrashed for air “Be a Clever girlie Baby ! Mummy Rebecca!” She removed the hood as Rebecca fed me the cock dildo... but I again wrenched so they simply repeated the whole thing over & over until eventually with saliva bubbles coming from both my mouth and dripping from the cock dildo everywhere I finally managed to control my gag reflex ! “Clever girlie Baby!!” Mummy Rebecca took great pleasure in slowly fucking my throat as tears streamed from me suddenly she put it to her sex...it as dripping with her juices!! She forced me time after time to clean it.. but I could tell she was getting Bery turned on by my suffering Mummy Sadie started rubbing my mess from under me forward “Clever Baby let’s give u a wee treat do you want your poppies up over your clittie? Ask nicely then Crybabysissypants...louder Baby..clever girlie here we go !” She pushed with all her might spreading the soft Goo everywhere ! I was so humiliated as they both giggled “look Mummy Sadie Baby is blushing & crying all at once...poor Thing..Ok Pain Toy enough Fun let’s get You in the Chair as it’s force feeding Time for You Madam! Now we are going to cut your ties after we Do Mummy Sadie is going to put your hoodie back on so Crybabysissypants I would look at Your chair as Your going into it on your own ! Then & only then will I let Mummy Sadie remove yourself hood So best behaviour Baby here we Go Pain Toy!” I was cut free then stood up Mummy Sadie smacked my thigh hard “Look at the Chair !!... Now Go ! Pain Toy !” I staggered over till I bumped into the chair sitting down sent more mess everywhere as the frame was designed to hold the legs wide apart. Suddenly I gulped in air again as Mummy Rebecca pulled a huge frilly bonnet on my head it had a built in blonde wig with Shirley temple curls ! She removed the wedges I was so happy as my jaw hurt...she went to the shelves and brought back a steel pot it read Crybabysissypants Quite Gagging... she went behind me as Mummy Sadie was getting some items...Mummy Rebecca spoke to me “Crybabysissypants Open wife again Sweetheart am going to give you my Favourite Gagging so what do we say ?” She giggled as i lisping like a two year old asked to be gagged with her Favourite gag “ Clever girlie Baby just try to relax Sweetheart as this will not be easy Baby” Mummy Sadie was strapping my mittens and then my boots as Mummy Rebecca worked a strange wet waxed wadding into each cheek pushing firmly to pack the space between my cheeks & teeth my mouth budged out like an bondage hamster ! She took a soft rubber cock it was soft like a heavy ballon bladder at its end was a mouth guard this she fed under my lips then lifted an oval pushing it behind my head this had strapping from it a second half was put over my lower jaws hole in its middle let the steel ring from the mouth guard push through it, in this ring it was threaded Mummy Sadie came to watch the spoke to Rebecca “How do you think up these things let alone make them...Your a Bery lucky girlie Crybabysissypants as Mummy Rebecca has never been so excited to make All your special Toys...Ready Mummy Rebecca?” ....Mummy Rebecca rubbed my cheeks then tapped them “Here we go Baby a Taster of things to come” she lifted a syringe pushing something into the balloons void... then lifted a second smaller balloon with a screw adapter at its base this she fed into the first balloon screwing it home she kissed my cheek “Clever girlie Baby Pain Toy Mummy Sadie next Sweetheart “ she stepped to the side as Mummy Sadie came up to my face with an Orange tube around two foot long dripping with lub without any warning she fed it up my left nostril !! “Swallow Baby!!” As I did the tube passed over my throat down into my tummy she inflated a retention bulb sealing my fate....”Clever girlie Crybabysissypants that’s brave wee Pain Toy.... Now we can have some really good fun.... This is going to make you struggle but You Will show is Obedience !!” Mummy Rebecca shut the chair frame over I was now in my seated prison...Mummy Rebecca screwed a pump bulb & tube too the jaw mask “All set Mummy Sadie !” Mummy Sadie wheeled over a large rubber bag on a stand lifting the tube she set it too the nose tube I felt it go hot then make its way up my nose then down my throat !! As my tummy filled Mummy Rebecca spoke “Clever girlie Baby here we go !” She gave the bulb three short pumps and the balloon in my mouth expanded... as I struggled in my bondage chair I felt something oozing out the balloon gag.....I burst out crying not like before Deep soul wrenching Tears of complete Submission what had I gotten into these two girls were Not only Dominant They were Sadistic in there joy at my new found suffering.....they laughed at me Mummy Sadie looked right into my eyes.... “Crybabysissypants Pain Toy....am afraid this is just the start we had Three very Special Days planned for You Pain Toy.... Now we have some very special guests arriving soon so eat up.... we want You to put on a Poopies Show for them won’t that be nice Crybabysissypants?....That’s a Clever girlie Baby nice and loud as we can only just hear you Sweetheart....Your going to meet some Very Experienced people.... Yes Sweetheart they like Baby’s that cry lots too !” They both laughed as I was now groaning at the fill swelling my tummy outward more and more fed into me.... Mummy Rebecca returned with a new syringe letting the air out the balloon she unscrewed it lifting it just enough to push in the goo content of the syringe she screwed it shut....lifting the pump bulb she spoke too me “Crybabysissypants what do we say nice and loud please Pain Toy !.. pweese cwan Baby hawve Mummy Rebeccas Goo Pweese” Clever girlie Baby in we go again...Ah Ah No don’t close Your eyes or we Will open them for you Baby !! Clever girlie look at me “ she pushed the bulb four times this time the Goo completely filled my mouth the taste was horrible!! ... Now let’s get things set up Mummy Sadie as Crybabysissypants can’t wait for her next surprise can you ..They roared with laughter as I nodded Obediently......I was Truly Lost......

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Dust Volume 6, Number 4

Guided by Voices just dropped record #30!

We enter April wishing all of you good health and financial solvency, though we know that many of the musicians and artists and appreciators that visit our site are in very dire circumstances. Our own crew is, so far, not infected, though we are coping with varying degrees of success to the new normal. Some are writing more. Others are struggling. Almost all of us are listening hard to the music that sustains us, and hope that you are likewise finding some solace. This edition of Dust is a big one, as a lot of us have the attention span for shorter, but not longer pieces. Enjoy it in good health. Contributors included Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Andrew Forell and Tim Clarke.

Aara — En Ergô Einai (Debemur Morti Productions)

En Ergô Einai by Aara

Swiss black metal band Aara offers a very high-concept LP, investigating the European Enlightenment, and the period’s complex and conflicting discourses on human rationality. In some ways, the historical period was enormously optimistic, featuring thinkers like Ben Franklin and Rousseau, who were committed to modes of thought that were scientifically rigorous and grounded in egalitarian ethics. But at the same time, European coloniality ramped up significantly, and capital became a rapacious, world consuming engine, churning out massive wealth and even more massive human suffering. Aara investigate that — or anyways that’s their claim. They haven’t published the lyrics to these songs, and the vocal stylings of singer Fluss are so brittle, so horrendously shrieked, that it’s impossible to decipher the words. The music is suggestive, however. It’s infused with a grand sensibility, and also charged with black metal’s negative intensities. The influence of Blut Aus Nord’s romantic Memoria Vetusta records is strongly present — and Vindsval, Blut Aus Nord’s principal composer, plays guitar on “Arkanum,” first track on this record. Its grandiosity is in tune with the philosophical enthusiasms of the Enlightenment. But it’s pretty cold stuff, like rationality itself.

Jonathan Shaw

Ryoko Akama / Apartment House — Dial 45-21-95 (2019) (Another Timbre)

Dial 45-21-95 by Ryoko Akama

The one time I saw Ryoko Akama’s music performed, the visual poetry of the concert was at least as compelling as the music that was made. During one piece she, Joseph Clayton Mills and Adam Sonderberg walked calmly up and down a line of tables loaded with instruments and knick-knacks she picked up during her visit to Chicago, making timely sounds that seemed to accent their movements rather than issue from them. While it sounded nothing like the music on Dial 45-21-95 (2019), this album is likewise the work of sympathetic musicians expressing a composer’s impressions of a place and all that comes with it. The source material this time comes from Akama’s visit to the archive of filmmaker Krzystof Kieslowski. Objects she saw, words that she read, and the episodic pacing of his works all became part of this cycle of leisurely, gentle movements of music that is small in scale, but not exactly minimalist. The musicians, in this case the English new music ensemble Apartment House, often seem to be passing phrases from one to another, each recipient conveying a reaction to what they’ve heard rather than the same information. In this way they impart the experience of a story without telling one.

Bill Meyer

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II (Karlrecords)

Invisible Cities II by Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis

What better time than when we’re all forbidden by pandemic to spend time in the company of others to listen to some quality sonic landscaping instead? Nadja’s ever-prolific Aidan Baker second duo collaboration with bass clarinetist Gareth Davis follows on the first Invisible Cities with a similar structure; Baker, credited on that first LP with just “guitar”, somehow summons up vast or subtle cloudbanks of hissing ambience, covert drones, even sometimes harsh blares (check out “The Dead” here) while Davis plays his clarinet like he’s carefully picking his way across a perilous set of ruins. Whether elegiac like the opening “Hidden” or more mysterious like the fading pulses threading around Davis’s work on “Eyes”, the result is a vividly evocative set of involving ambient music made using slightly unusual materials. Even though Baker and Davis fall into a set of background/foreground roles, both clearly contribute equally to what makes Invisible Cities II work so well (honestly, a little better than their fine debut as a duo), and although unintentional, the result can serve to give us temporary shut ins plenty of mental fodder as well.

Ian Mathers

The Bobby Lees — Skin Suit (Alive)

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The Bobby Lees may be from Woodstock, but they definitely do not have flowers in their hair. Skin Suit, the band’s second album, is a blistering onslaught of garage rock fury, at least as heated as last year’s Hank Wood and the Hammerheads S-T, but tighter, nearly surgically precise. Singer/guitarist Sam Quartin has a magnetic, unflappable presence, whether issuing threats sotto voce (“Coin”), insinuating sexual heat (“Redroom”) or crooning the blues. But everyone in the band is more than up to the job, whether Macky Bowman knocking the kit sidewise in the most disciplined way, Kendall Windall jacking the pressure with thundering bass or Nick Casa lighting off Molotov cocktails of guitar sound. Video (above) suggests that the record isn’t the half of it, but the record is pretty damned good. Jon Spencer produced and makes a characteristically unhinged cameo in “Ranch Baby.” Two covers ought to be a misfire—can anybody improve on Richard Hell’s “Blank Generation,” or add anything further to the Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m a Man”? — but instead bring the fire. Helluva a band, probably even better live.

Jennifer Kelly

Rob Clutton with Tony Malaby — Offering (Snailbongbong Records)

Offering by Rob Clutton with Tony Malaby

Sometimes when one musician gets top billing, that just means they ponied up for the session fees. But on Offering, the words “Rob Clutton with” signal that the Canadian double bassist conceived of a sound situation and procured material suited to that concept. Clutton is well acquainted with the American soprano and tenor saxophonist, Tony Malaby. Their association dates back two decades, when both men were resident artists at the Banff Centre For Arts and Creativity in Alberta, Canada, and they’re both members of drummer Nick Fraser’s band. That common ground gets the nod on “Sketch #11,” a Fraser tune that occasions some of the most swinging music on this wide-ranging and thoroughly satisfying session. But elsewhere the genesis of the material lies in Clutton’s own improvisations, which he recorded, transcribed and analyzed in order to locate nuggets of musical intelligence worth developing into discreet melodies — or further improvisations. Either way, Malaby isn’t just the guy on hand to play the horn parts, but a known musical quantity to be either be written for or set up to set loose. Clutton must have had his tone, alternately ample and pungent on soprano, and his imaginative responsiveness to the melodic, rhythmic, and emotional implications of a theme in mind, for his own purposeful perambulations seem designed to give Malaby plenty to wrap around and climb upon. While the music is ever spare, it’s never wanting.

Bill Meyer

Pia Fraus — Empty Parks (Seksound)

Empty Parks by Pia Fraus

Empty Parks, the latest album from Estonian neo-shoegazers Pia Fraus, deftly soundtracks crisp, blue-skied, late winter days when buds are emerging on bare trees and the promise of warmer days beckons. The Tallinn based band comprising Eve Komp (vocals, synth), Kärt Ojavee (synth), Rein Fuks (guitar, vocals, synth, percussion), Reijo Tagapere (bass), Joosep Volk (drums, electronic percussion) and Kristel Eplik (backing vocals) traffics in layered harmonies, swathes of synth and roving guitar lines over a solid, propulsive rhythm section. Most of the songs move along at a good clip with a great sense of dynamics and a focus on atmospherics. Sometimes one wishes they would let go a little and explore the hints of noise on standout tracks “Mr. Land Freezer,” “Nice And Clever” and “Australian Boots” which have traces of grit that, if given more prominence, may have elevated Empty Parks as a whole from enjoyable to compelling.

Andrew Forell

Stephen Gauci / Sandy Ewen / Adam Lane / Kevin Shea — Live at the Bushwick Series (Gaucimusic)

Gauci/Ewen/Lane/Shea, Live at the Bushwick Series by gaucimusic

The cultural losses inflicted by the current pandemic situation are so immense that no record review is going to hold the whole story. But this one might clue you in to one culture under unique threat, and also shine a light on the spirit that may bring it back again. Since the summer of 2017, tenor saxophonist Stephen Gauci has been organizing a concert series at the Bushwick Public House in Brooklyn, NY. Each Monday starting at 7 PM up to half a dozen individuals or ensembles will play some variant of jazz or improvised music. This album is the first in a series of five titles, all released as either downloads or CDRs with nicely done sleeves, and each documenting a set that was part of the series. Live at the Bushwick Series is a forceful argument for the mixing of aesthetics. You might know drummer Kevin Shea from the conceptually comedic jazz band, Mostly Other People Do The Killing, or Gauci and Lane from the many recordings that showcase each man’s impassioned playing and rigorous compositions. Maybe you know guitarist Sandy Ewen as a started-from-scratch free improviser. But when you hear this recording, you’ll know that they are a band, one that makes cohesive and ferocious music on full of tectonic friction and fluid role-swapping on the fly. When the quarantines expire, there may or may not be a concert series, or a Bushwick Public House to host it. But it’ll take the kind of commitment and invention heard here to get things rolling again.

Bill Meyer

Vincent Glanzmann / Gerry Hemingway — Composition O (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Composition O by Vincent Glanzmann / Gerry Hemingway

A composition is both an ending and a beginning. It establishes some parameters, however specifically, to guide musicians’ interactions. But the publishing of a piece can also provoke many different interpretations, especially when the composition itself is designed to be a work in progress. Percussionists Vincent Glanzmann and Gerry Hemingway developed Composition O with the intent to revise each time they play it, so that while there is a graphic score guiding them, it is subject to change. So, don’t expect this music to have the locked-in quality of, say, Steve Reich’s Music for Eighteen Musicians, any more than you might expect it to evince the self-creating form of a free improvisation. It proceeds quite deliberately through sections of athletic stick-craft, sonorous rubbing, and eerie extensions beyond the percussive realm enabled by the distorting properties of microphones and the deeply human communication of Hemingway’s vocalizations, which are filtered by a harmonica. The score keeps things organized; the concept means that this music will evolve and change.

Bill Meyer

Magnus Granberg / Insub Meta Orchestra — Als alle Vögel sangen mein Sehnen und Verlangen (Insub)

Als alle Vögel sangen mein Sehnen und Verlangen by MAGNUS GRANBERG / INSUB META ORCHESTRA

In a previous review for Dusted, I characterized Magnus Grandberg’s sound world as “unemphatic.” The same applies here, and the accomplishment of that effect is in direct inverse to the size of the ensemble playing this album-length piece. For this performance, the Insub Meta Orchestra numbers 27 musicians, but it rarely sounds like more than four or five of them are playing at any time. The ensemble is well equipped to represent whatever Granberg suggests. In addition to conventional orchestra instrumentation, you’ll find antique instruments such as spinet, traverso and viola da gamba, as well as newcomers like the analog synthesizer and laptop computer. Granberg selects discerningly from centuries of compositional and performative approaches. The piece’s title, which translates to “When all the birds sang my longing and desire,” tips the hat to Schubert, but the way that timbres offset one another shows a working knowledge with contemporary free improvisation. It takes restraint on the part of the players as well as the composer to make a group this big sound so small in contrast to the silence that contains its music.

Bill Meyer

Ivar Grydeland / Henry Kaiser — In The Arctic Dreamtime (Rune Grammofon)

If Ivar Gyrdeland (Danes les Arbres, Huntsville) and Henry Kaiser had first met in an airport lounge or a green room somewhere, you might not be able to hold this CD in your hands. They’d have sat down, started talking about strings or pick-ups or their favorite Terje Rypdal records, and who knows where that might have led. But they met in an Oslo studio, and one of them had some means of projecting Roald Amundsen — Lincoln Ellsworth’s Flyveekspedisjon 1925, a documentary of an unsuccessful and nearly fatal attempt to fly two airplanes over the North Pole. So, they set up their guitars and improvised a soundtrack to the film on the spot, which became the contents of this CD. Neither man regards the guitar’s conventional sounds as obligatory boundaries, and much of the music here delves into other available options. Resonant swells, looped harmonics, and flickering backwards sounds alternate with shimmering strums, skeins of feedback, and unabashed shredding, radiating with an icy brightness that corresponds to the unending polar sunlight that shone down on the expeditionaries as they hand-carved a runway out of the ice.

Bill Meyer

Guided By Voices — ‘Surrender Your Poppy Field’ (GBV, Inc.)

Surrender Your Poppy Field by Guided By Voices

The ever productive Robert Pollard kicks off a new decade with a louder, more distorted brand of rock, his characteristic hooky melodies buzzing with guitar feedback. He’s supported by the same band as on last year’s Sweating the Plague— Doug Gillard, Kevin March, Bobby Bare, Jr. and Mark Shue, who like Pollard are lifers to a man. Songs run short and feverish with only a couple breaking the three- minute mark and the chamber-pop “Whoa Nelly,” clocking in at 61 seconds. And yet, who can pack more into a couple of minutes than the godfather of lofi? “Queen Parking Lot” ramps up the dissonance around the most fetching sort of melody, which curves organically around modal curves. “Steely Dodger,” layers rattling textures of percussive sound (drums, strummed guitars) around a dreaming psychedelic tune. The words make no sense, but tap into subconscious fancies. This is Guided by Voices 30th album. Here’s to the next 30.

Jennifer Kelly

Zachary Hay — Zachary Hay (Scissor Tail)

Zachary Hay by Zachary Hay

Zachary Hay is an American acoustic guitarist, but please, put aside the associative baggage that comes with those words. If you do so, that’ll put you closer to the spirit that informed the making of this LP’s ten un-named tracks. Like Jon Collin, Hay seems to be intent upon capturing the mood and environment of a particular moment. The sound of the room, or someone turning on a tap while he’s recording — these become elements of the music every bit as much as his patient note choices. Hay likes melodies, but he doesn’t feel bound to repeat them, which imparts a sense of motion to the music. Things change a bit towards the end, when he puts down his guitar and stretches out for a spell on banjo and squeezebox, humming along with the latter like a man who knows that he must be his own company.

Bill Meyer

Egil Kalman & Fredrik Rasten — Weaving a Fabric of Winds (Shhpuma)

Weaving a Fabric of Winds by Egil Kalman & Fredrik Rasten

Some music is born out of commercial or communicative aspirations, or philosophical structural prescriptions. One suspects that this music originates from some agreement about what sounds good, compounded by other ideas about the right way to do things. Fredrik Rasten is a guitarist who splits his time between Berlin and Oslo, shuttling between improvised and composed musical situations; he has an album out on Wandelweiser, which should tell you a bit about his aesthetics. Egil Kalman plays modular synthesizer on this record, but he is also a double bassist from Sweden who lives in Copenhagen, and he keeps busy playing in folk, jazz and free improv settings; one hopes that someday, we’ll hear some recordings by his touring project, Alasdair Roberts & Völvur. But in the meantime, give a listen to this record, which patiently scrutinizes a space bounded by string harmonics and electronic resonance. Rasten uses just intonation to maximize the radiance of his sounds and re-tunes while playing to subtly manage the harmonic proximity between his vibrations and Kalman’s long tones. The synth supplies a bit of slow-motion melody. The album’s two pieces were performed in real time, and the effort involved in maintaining precise harmonic distance gives the music a subtle but undeniable charge. The title mentions winds, but this music feels more like a sonic representation of slight but steady breezes.

Bill Meyer

Matt Karmil — STS371 (Smalltown Supersound)

STS371 by Matt Karmil

UK producer Matt Karmil’s latest release STS371 mines a lode of straight ahead acid house and techno laced with enough glitch and twitch to appeal to the head as much as the body. Lead single “PB” is a maximalist concoction of ricocheting hi-hat, blurting bass, the panting of the short distance runner and an undercurrent of soft white noise. Karmil uses just a few simple elements to build his tracks which foreground the beats. Hi-hat and kick drums drop on tracks like “SR/WB” to highlight woozy synth washes. It’s just enough to let you breathe before the high energy tempos return and the strobes flash once more. STS371 touches on Force Inc clicks and cuts and ~scape minimalism beneath the rhythms but most of all Karmil is interested in keeping you on your feet. Mission accomplished.

Andrew Forell

Kevin Krauter — Full Hand (Bayonet Records)

Full Hand by Kevin Krauter

Indiana musician Kevin Krauter’s sophomore album Full Hand floats by like a summer breeze. The Hoops bassist plumbs 1980s AOR and coats it in an agreeable fuzz to produce 12 tracks of gossamer dream pop heavy on atmosphere if not always individually memorable. Lyrically Krauter mines his memories and experiences growing up in a religious household, self-discovery and coming of age with poetic grace that his delivers over drum machines, hazy synths, delicate layers of guitar, and low-key yearning vocals.

At his most direct on the title track and “Pretty Boy”, Krauter explores queer identity and his wish to be himself and express his desire. “Green Eyes” and “How” confront the dilemmas of doing just that. The songs are less confessional or revelatory than the sound of Krauter working things out in real time, allowing his audience the privilege of listening as he does so. There are no “big” moments but one comes away inspired by his words and warmed by his music.

Andrew Forell

Nap Eyes — Snapshot of a Beginner (Jagjaguwar)

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Album number four sees Nap Eyes open up to take in broader, sleeker vistas. For the most part, lackadaisical country-rock’n’roll is nudged towards expansiveness by spacey guitars borrowed from My Bloody Valentine’s Isn’t Anything. Nigel Chapman steps forward into his front man role with more aplomb than on preceding albums, marshalling his bandmates around him to explore more colorful musical territories. Most successful are the singles, especially opener “So Tired,” plus the canny repurposing of the “Paint It Black” riff on “Real Thoughts,” and the deft guitar work on “Dark Link.” Sometimes there’s a loss of focus, a feeling of stretching for something just beyond reach. But that’s OK; after all, the shrugging acceptance of their shortcomings is right there in the album title.

Tim Clarke

Peel Dream Magazine — Agitprop Alterna (Slumberland / Tough Love)

Agitprop Alterna by Peel Dream Magazine

On second album Agitprop Alterna, Peel Dream Magazine sound just like early Stereolab, with occasional blasts of shoe-gazey guitar thrown in for good measure. It may come across as reductive, even dismissive, to make such an overt comparison, but there’s no getting round it. With Stereolab’s comeback reminding everyone how beloved the band is, it’s heartening that there are new bands carrying the torch of their glorious aesthetic. To anyone who grew up in the 1990s listening to this stuff, it’ll no doubt be startling how well Joe Stevens has pulled this off. It’s a love letter to the sound of droning organs, guitars hammering away at major sevenths, driving rhythms and zoned-out but tuneful vocals. It’s derivative, sure, but it’s so well done, and the song writing is so solid that the appeal is undeniable. A recording of John Peel’s reassuringly deadpan radio patter even makes an appearance on “Wood Paneling Pt 2,” midway through the album, as if posthumously giving the band his blessing. I can’t argue with that.

Tim Clarke

Sign of Evil — Psychodelic Horror (Caligari Records)

Psychodelic Horror by SIGN OF EVIL

Maybe music this astoundingly stupid shouldn’t be quite so fun. But Sign of Evil, a one-man-black-metal-psychobilly-mash-up from Chile, makes a racket that’s so oddly deranged that it’s hard not to be charmed. Imagine if Link Wray somehow managed to walk into a Dark Throne practice session, c. 1995, and decided to jam, and you might conjure some of the strangeness you’ll encounter on the doltishly titled Psychodelic Horror. It’s fitting that the best song on the tape is simply called “Horror.” Nuff said. But check out the whacko piano that Witchfucker (yep) gamely pounds through the song’s first 30 seconds, and then the wheezy guitar tone he abuses your ear with when the metal portion of the song starts. These are not the sounds of a well-adjusted intelligence. Nor are they the sorts of sounds made by jackasses that cynically profess misanthropic allegiance to Satan, even as they enjoy decades-long careers in the music industry. Watain and Gorgoroth and Dark Funeral only wish they could be this legitimately unhinged. It helps that Witchfucker isn’t a loathsome racist. Rock on, you weirdo.

Jonathan Shaw

Tré Burt — Caught It From the Rye (Oh Boy)

Caught It From The Rye by Tre Burt

Tré Burt has a rough-edged voice and fiery way with the harmonica that can’t help but remind of a certain Nobel Prize winning songwriter, though his words are less oblique. This debut album has a raspy, down-home charm, framed by raucous acoustic strumming and forthright Americana melodies. The winner here is the title track, which glancingly references the J.D. Salinger classic, but mostly reflects a soulful, restless search for meaning in art and life and music. “All my favorite paintings/ they keep on fallin' down/And I need savin' by the grace of god/But I know he's off creatin' /another one like me,” croons Burt with sandy sincerity. It’s a resilient sort of music, where Burt’s yowling voice plumbs emotional depths, but his rambling guitar line maintains a steady cheer. Burt got his big chance from John Prine’s Oh Boy Records, and as that songwriter hovers near death, it’s a good time to celebrate his legacy of leaving the ladder up.

Jennifer Kelly

Michael Vallera — Window In (Denovali)

Window In by Michael Vallera

Chicago photographer, musician and composer Michael Vallera releases Window In, a four-track album of ambient manipulated guitar and electronic drone. Vallera works in a liminal space between actuality and potential, with continual, albeit almost imperceptible, shifts from the general and the hyper-specific. He brings a photographic eye to his compositions. They are the aural equivalent of seascapes in which one basks before one is drawn to details and the secrets beneath. Vallera’s tracks float by on luxurious oceanic swells with undercurrents of hiss, subaquatic rumbles, the blips and bleeps of luminescent trench dwellers. In the process the source, the guitar, is rendered unrecognizable, erased from the results leaving only disembodied sounds that ironically feel anchored in the real. Fans of Wolfgang Voigt’s Gas project, Fennesz’ guitar based ambient music or Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops will find much to appreciate here. Window In is a meditation on stillness and calm in the eye of powerful natural forces, something we always need but more so now.

Andrew Forell

Windy & Carl — Allegiance and Conviction (Kranky)

Allegiance and Conviction by Windy & Carl

Windy Weber and Carl Hultgren have been creating ambient space-rock for nearly 30 years now. The couple’s cosmic yet intimate output may have slowed — this is their first album since 2012’s We Will Always Be — but their sound possesses a timeless resonance. Stepping into their river of watery guitar and bass drones in 2020 feels like little has changed since we last left them — and yet, strangely, everything is new. Windy’s voice makes tentative yet emotionally insistent appearances on five of these six tracks, her words hinting at small-scale revolutions (“In the underground, we’ve got a job to do” — “The Stranger”). “Will I See the Dawn” is the only wordless piece, where electric piano and tape hiss manage to speak volumes. At only 38 minutes, this is a short album for Windy & Carl, but one that has enough shadowy depths to qualify as a worthwhile addition to their intimidating discography.

Tim Clarke

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aahsokaatano · 4 years

Note

ITALY????

Y’all I spent one whole week in Italy in 2017 and it was one of the most bizarre fucking weeks of my life

let’s break it down from the beginning

[under a read more for length]

So, fall of 2017 I was studying abroad in London. One of the classes I was taking was specifically for study abroad students, designed to get us engaging in the culture of London or whatever i dont really remember the class itself but my god do i remember the people i met in it

two in particular were these girls, also American. We shall call them Molly and Ally. They had quickly made friends with each other, and after one of the class trips into London, i was friendly with them as well. The “reading week” or fall break was coming up, and they mentioned that they were going to Italy and asked if I wanted to go. I had booked a short tour to Dover, but thought “oh my god Italy???? Fuck yes!” and so I bought my plane tickets then asked them where they had booked hotel rooms so that I could add myself to their itinerary

“Oh,” Molly said, “we haven’t, don’t worry about it”

Me, a seasoned traveler “?????? uh”

I bugged them about this for at LEAST a week and finally, about THREE DAYS from when we were supposed to leave, I just went ahead and booked an assortment of hostels and airbnbs for us in all the cities they wanted to go to and told them to pay me back later

they actually admitted afterwards that that had been a smart move on my part which like????? no SHIT its a smart move to have a plan where you’re gonna sleep every night while in a foreign country. god.

So, lets go through this day by day

Day 1 - London to Milan

we flew from London to Milan in the evening, getting there pretty late at night. and it was only once we were actually IN Italy that I learned that 1) none of us spoke Italian and 2) despite having grown up in two areas with large Hispanic populations, neither Molly or Ally spoke a lick of Spanish, which is close enough to Italian that you can kind of limp through a conversation of one if you know the other.

so, somehow, I ended up being our Italian translator for the week, armed with nothing but a translator website, a handful of Italian music terms, and the ability to roll my r’s fairly well for a white person. Literally, i figured out where the bus stop was outside of the airport because I saw the word “fermata” painted on the pavement and I knew that meant “long pause” in sheet music terms so I hazarded a guess it meant stop or similar in regular Italian

(sidenote I almost got in a fight with some random Italian dude on the bus because Molly was going on about how excited she was to try the pizza and I told her it wasn’t going to be the same because “the pizza you’re used to is an American invention” and he turned around and started going on about the tradition of pizza in Italy and I was like I just mean that American pizza is different from real Italian pizza i did not mean to offend i’m sorry!!!!!! anyways)

the bus dropped us in a square in the middle of Milan and we got out and i’m lookin at my airbnb app trying to figure out where we need to go and i said “okay we need to get a cab” and Molly and Ally are arguing about something and this RANDOM ASS DUDE walks up to us and is like “you need taxi?” and i said yes to he leads us back to his REGULAR ASS CAR, NOT A TAXI and tells us to get in, and for some unknown fucking reason I do and Molly and Ally follow me and shut up real fast because this is sketchy as fuck but the guy did take us to the airbnb without murdering us so thats a win i guess

The airbnb by the way was more like a mini hostel - it was this apartment where pretty much every room except the bathroom had been converted into a bedroom and so probably not entirely legal but whatever. whatever.

Day 2 - Milan to Venice

i woke up early the next morning and went to take a shower at the bathroom at the end of the hall and found out that the lights didn’t work. Whatever, I’m mostly blind without my glasses anyways so i just showered in the dark, no biggie

we had an early bus to catch from Milan to Venice, so we headed out to the bus station. I’ll be honest, I do not remember how we got there. I think we walked, because I ended up with a coffee at some point so I probably got it from some cafe on the way? But idk. I was so tired.

We get on the bus, I found two empty seats far away from Molly and Ally, and immediately stretched out and fell asleep.

Ally woke me a little later and said “c’mon, we’re here!”

I was confused as all hell because it had not been nearly long enough for us to get all the way to Venice, but I got off the bus and was greeted by Molly stretching her arms out and proclaiming “Welcome to Venice!” underneath a sign that said we were at the Verona bus station.

They did not believe me when I said Verona and Venice were two different places. “Venice has canals, Verona is where Romeo & Juliet is set. There are no canals in R&J, they’re two different places!” I literally had to pull out my phone, go to google maps, and zoom out until they could see that Venice was still several hours away before they believed me.

The bus driver almost didn’t let us back on but I was able to show him on the tickets that our end destination was, in fact, Venice.

Venice itself was pretty neat. We got to go on a gondola ride and I ate an entire pizza by myself at dinner lmao.

Day 3 - Venice to Florence

we took a train from Venice to Florence the next morning, and that’s when I discovered that Italian train stations have lovely little cafes with AMAZING coffee and really good pastries. The other two didn’t drink coffee but like, their loss. it was fantastic.

Florence was great, we found a little shop that sold really yummy gelato for only 1 Euro a scoop - Geletaria La Carraia. If you ever end up in Florence, definitely check it out!

We wandered around for a while, took a lot of pictures. There was some famous church that was undergoing some renovations, but as we walked up to it Molly gasped and said “I’ve climbed that in Assassin’s Creed!” which was pretty funny.

We went to a museum that had made a bunch of models of some of Leonardo DaVinci’s inventions. We went to an art museum and stumbled across Michaelangelo’s David on accident, so that was the big “wtf” moment of the day. Also that night Molly decided to buy a bottle of wine to take home to a friend of her’s back in America, but realized after buying it that her backpack wasn’t big enough to cart it around for the rest of the week so I ended up carrying an entire fucking bottle of wine for the rest of the trip because I was the only one smart enough to bring a proper backpacking backpack and not just my school bag.

Also the hostel we were in had actual skeleton keys for their rooms and actual goddamn keyholes that one could clearly see through so i left the key in the lock all night AND hung my sweatshirt from the door handle so that no one could peek in at us

Day 4 - Florence to Pisa

once again, I woke up early, went into the bathroom attached to our room (the hostel had had a cancellation and so we ended up in a private room instead of a dorm style) and discovered that the lights didn’t work so I had a second shower in the dark

we took another train from Florence to Pisa, and there we ran into our only bit of bad weather

What’s the big draw in Pisa? The Leaning Tower, right?

What was the only day it rained, non-fucking-stop, the entire time we were in Italy? THE DAY WE WERE IN PISA

I got so soaked that I actually bought a new sweatshirt because the one I was wearing was DRIPPING

anyways, after we had taken several dumb touristy pictures and grabbed an early dinner at a nearby restaurant, we decided to head over to the room I had booked. The cheapest place I could find was a tiny cabin at a campground nearby. According to the map on my phone, it was a short walk away.

A solid hour later, we finally trudged up to the main office of the campground, shivering and soaked, and got the keys to our cabin. We set our stuff down, and Ally and Molly decided to go back out to the grocery store we had passed coming in. I waved them off and went to take a shower in the bathroom with fully functioning lights! hooray!

Day 5 - Pisa to Rome

another morning, another train station with excellent coffee. We got into Rome and, at this point, we were all so tired from travelling that I was finally able to take charge. up until this point, Molly had been railroading us, even sort of bullying Ally in the process, but now she was exhausted and I, through a combination of practice in functioning while dead on my feet, lots of travel experience, and Mom Friend Instincts, took the reins. We got to Rome and I said “we’re going to the church with the big hole in the roof (its a thing, look it up) and then we’re going to eat.... at this place around the corner and then we’re going to to go our hostel and check in”

they didn’t argue, and that’s a true testament to how fucking tired the two of them were, especially Molly, because she would argue about anything and everything given half a chance. We also went to the military museum that day, mostly because it was free and also air conditioned

(also while looking through my pictures of this trip i just discovered that i still have the picture i took of the Rome hostel FAQ page that had by the front desk, which i now remember i did because it had the wifi password on it and we weren’t in our room for 30 seconds before one of the other two asked what the wifi password was so, once again, i show that i am a very good traveler/travelling buddy)

Day 6 - Rome

so we had the next full day in Rome, and we got up early to get in line for the Vatican. I wanted to be there by 7am, Molly was like “it doesn’t even open until 9!” and we compromised at 8 and it was STILL an enormous line so i was like “see? this is why i wanted to get here early”

Oh, but before we went to the Vatican, i took a shower. IN. THE. DARK. BECAUSE ALL OF ITALY EXCEPT FOR PISA DECIDED THAT I DIDN’T DESERVE TO HAVE A SHOWER WHERE I DIDN’T HAVE TO FUMBLE AROUND BLINDLY LIKE AN ASSHOLE

ALSO on the way to the Vatican, I asked if the two of them had their passports. Ally said yes. Molly said yes, why?

And I had to then explain to Molly, a 20 year old RELIGIOUS STUDIES MAJOR, who was RAISED CATHOLIC and who had FAMILY IN THE CLERGY, that the Vatican, THE CENTER OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, is it’s own country.

she, again, did not believe me until i pulled it up on google for her

turned out that we didn’t need our passports stamped to enter the Vatican but still! still!!!!!

so it turned out that whatever day we were there on, the Sistine Chapel isn’t open that day, so we just walked through the cathedral and then headed out to the Colosseum and the ruins of the Senate behind it, both of which were very cool

Day 7 - Rome to Milan to London

we got up even EARLIER on our last day, I took another shower in the dark, and we rushed over to the Vatican, speedwalked through most of the museum, and finally got into the Sistine Chapel, which was absolutely breathtaking. Then we hauled ass back to the train station to catch our train back to Milan.

At this point in the trip, I was so fucking done with the two of them, but especially Molly. Ally was sweet and naive, but she was also willing to listen to new information. Molly was just a stubborn ass with a mean streak a mile wide and I was COMPLETELY done associating with her.

Luckily, since I had booked my flights separately, while we had flown into Milan on the same plane, I had a completely different flight back to London - to a different airport, even. They were going back to London City, but I was heading to London Gatwick. Both planes were set to depart around the same time, from two gates that were next to each other though, so i couldn’t really escape them until - uh oh! My flight was delayed.

Molly and Ally were fretting about it but i was like “it’s fine. it’s fine. I’ve been flying since i was literally 3 months old and I s o m e h o w know more Italian AND Spanish than the two of you combined, even though I would never say that I speak EITHER of those languages. Just go.”

The flight ended up being delayed like 5 hours due to mechanical issues. They finally just got another plane for us, and we finally took off from Milan. When we went over Paris, the captain, obviously feeling bad about the delay, made sure to tilt the plane in both directions so that everyone could see the Eiffel Tower lit up, it was really neat.

We finally got back to London at literally like 230 in the morning. The busses and some of the trains weren’t even running at that point - certainly not all the way out to the fancy little liberal arts college I was going to. I went up to some security guard at the airport and said “just tell me how close I can get to the University of Roehampton on the trains” and he told me to take the train to Black Friars so I got out there and there was a bus, but it was like 40 minutes out. It’s now pass 3am, I am exhausted after a long, weird week in Italy, I texted my dad and he said “just get an Uber i’ll pay for it”

The Uber driver was very nice and as soon as I got in he said “you look really cold! do you want the heat on?” i could have fucking kissed him. he was super nice. actually made sure that I was still texting my dad (i had mentioned it when I got in because I almost dropped my bag while trying to text and maneuver at the same time) every few minutes. offered to let me take and send a picture of him to my dad. otherwise didn’t really speak and just let the music play. I tipped him literally whatever was in my pocket at that time, i don’t remember how much it was, but it was at least 20% and probably more. Really great guy.

Random London Uber driver from 2017, you remain the best Uber driver and I love you

i finally crawled into my shitty little dorm bed at about 4am, exhausted and utterly bewildered by the past week

honestly??? I’m still bewildered by my week in Italy.

wtf even happened in all that mess.

#italy #venice #florence #rome #pisa #tales from the hill #chris #thebubbledragon

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ashleyjouharphotowords · 4 years

Photo

The second of a two part Miles Aldridge interview I did for the Image Source Picture Agency. Here, the avant-garde fashion photographer talks about the transition to a different creative vision, and the contrasting influences of Richard Avedon and Helmut Newton.

Ashley Jouhar: The transition you made to the kind of work that we associate with you as a photographer now… how did you go about creating that imagery?

Miles Aldridge: Well as an example, I had this idea for a photograph that took place in a car, with the exhaust coming through a window. That could still work as a photo. I wanted to do a series like that but what other ideas could I come up with? I went through the other ideas and they were all to do with suicide! That’s how it started to happen.

The people I worked with were very accommodating, especially Italian Vogue. I’d done white background shoots for them for quite a while. So when I proposed to do something with a bit of narrative to it, as along as I shot their clothes they were fine with it. Actually, those pictures turned out quite well – they emboldened me to do another one and another one.

Some of the early stories aren’t much of a story but there is still a story there because something is happening. I remember one where I just wanted to have a white kitten in every picture. Following this girl around the street loosely inspired by this girl from La Dolce Vita. That was a case of making sure there was a white kitten on set and just making sure it was in every picture.

Ashley Jouhar: How long does it take now to make an individual image and what’s the size of the team involved?

Miles Aldridge: The team is the same now, it’s a bit like a Rock ’n’ Roll band. Instead of the drummer, the bass player and guitarist, you have the stylist, hair-dresser and make-up artist, the set designer and the prop stylist. It is like a small art movie team – it’s not Hollywood. It’s a group rather than a massive bunch of people. I try to keep control of it, keep costs down. So it doesn’t becoming exorbitantly expensive. As long as my drawings are quite accurate from the beginning, I don’t have to make huge sets, I just make the bit I really need.

Typically I’ll have an idea and I’ll sell the idea to the magazine. Within that six months we’ll shoot it as an idea, over two days mostly – sometimes over one day. Now half the shoots are one day shoots.

Ashley Jouhar: Is it mostly sets you shoot in rather than locations?

Miles Aldridge: It goes up and down, I go through different phases, sometimes I like shooting in locations as I find locations give you a lot more options once you are there. They exist in architectural space. If the idea you had thought of doesn’t work, you can probably move the camera and find something else that does work. Whereas a set has no Plan B. You are pretty much figuring out your shot when you are doing a drawing and have the set constructed accordingly. It’s quite nice going into a location like a hotel room and taking it over changing it and putting lights up and really doing a number on it. Changing it through the camera, though the lighting, and propping. I’m quite happy in a studio as a set as well.

When you have a free rein, and it sounds like a lot of the time you have, it can be more difficult to create, as the world’s your oyster. How do you impose your own parameters to get to be where you want to be?

Because I work for Italian Vogue the parameters are not defined but are well understood. You can do a picture of a crazy woman but it does have to be tasteful, it can be contemporary so it can include knowledge of contemporary art but I think it can’t be shocking for its own sake and it can’t trample over certain taboos.

There’s a restriction there and of course you have to show the clothes. And I’m also obliged to make sure that the woman looks really beautiful even if she is weird. There are enough parameters there to make it interesting. I agree though, when artists are given free rein, they often produce rubbish. I like to consider myself working in a similar way to the Hollywood writers and directors in the 1940s and 50s… Celebrating that and everything in between.

Ashley Jouhar: When we were talking at your show Short Breaths, about film versus digital, you were saying you do some commercial jobs on digital but mostly you are shooting on film to get the qualities it provides. For shoots for Italian Vogue for instance, would that be film?

Miles Aldridge: Absolutely. All the work in Short Breaths and all the work in Somerset House was previously published in magazines and ninety percent of that was Italian Vogue. For me, the personal work is the magazine work – I consider that my art, in the same that Richard Avedon and Helmut Newton did too. I don’t consider that commercial work even though it’s for a magazine. What I consider commercial work is pure advertising, where it’s a product for a company who want me to show their things. You have to work with someone else’s brief in advertising. Historically, editorial photographers are reporting on the world. They are aware of fashions and the world they live in so the ideas they have and the images they come up with are not just to show the clothes – that would be deadly. The job of the fashion photographer is to subtly make comment on the world he lives in.

Ashley Jouhar: Which fashion photographers have influenced you? Whose work do you like the most?

Miles Aldridge: I think as far as being incredibly serious about what he did – and he straddled such a huge period of human culture and commented on it, it would be Richard Avedon. Helmut Newton is also a very interesting and prolific artist who did the same for a more concentrated period in the 70s and 80s. He did in the 60s too but came into his own in the 70s. He was such a pervy, dark guy but I think that vision suited that world of the 70s. Both of these artists are true to their own nature. There is something about Avedon and his obsession with grace and glamour but he was massively aware of the world he was in, the Berlin Wall coming down, the rights of Black people, or the American West project being a shocking report on one of the world’s richest countries.

Ashley Jouhar: He was heavily criticised at the time for some of these images. But look how influential they’ve been.

Miles Aldridge: Irving Penn is another one. He is less a fashion photographer than a still life one. In his way, he has an incredible breadth to his work, a huge span of human existence that’s fantastic.

Ashley Jouhar: I saw the Platinum Cigarette Butts show at Hamilton’s last year – phenomenal to see them all together…

Miles Aldridge: Wonderful…

Ashley Jouhar: And again very influential…

Miles Aldridge: Like a lot of great work, if the idea is great you can get the cigarette butt out of the gutter and put it under a camera. He followed it through technically and did it brilliantly, but for me the brilliant bit of that is the idea. He said, walking home from the studio, he would pick up these little bits of detritus and bring them back to the studio the next day to photograph. It’s the idea to do that that’s the amazing thing.

Ashley Jouhar: It’s easy to look back at stuff like that and say, well… that’s an old idea but of course, at the time it was breaking new boundaries…

Miles Aldridge: And in its own way it was talking about consumerism.

Ashley Jouhar: One more question. Your current body of work has an ‘energy’ and a ‘Miles Aldridge’ look and feel. Is anything hatching in your mind as to how you are going to move it on? Where are you going to go next with your style or approach to image-making?

Miles Aldridge: The exhibition and the book are both incredible full-stops for me – a double full-stop. I feel the new work after this, starting in September, will be different. What I am doing right now is really considering that. I feel the body of work at Somerset House is a really complete representation of how I felt about the world up until now. Now that’s off my chest it leaves room for me to think again and see things in a different way.

Ashley Jouhar: Thank you very much Miles.

#fashion photography #fashion #art photography #pop art #ashleyjouhar #miles aldridge #british vogue #vogue italia

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d-criss-news · 5 years

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In a brilliant moment of serendipity, Darren Criss discovered he had been Emmy-nominated as Outstanding Lead Actor in a Limited Series or Movie for The Assassination of Gianni Versace at an airport branch of Planet Hollywood. “We were sitting there looking at the most Hollywood thing we could. That just tickled me to no end,” regales the former Glee star, who played Kurt Hummel’s love interest, Blaine Anderson, in the musical comedy television show.

At the time, Darren was on his way to a gig in Aspen, Colorado. “The Emmy nominations were coming out at 8.30am and the flight was leaving at 9.45am and we – me, my fiancée, my manager, publicist, basically the work family – all wanted to go and watch it together, somewhere I would be close enough so that when it was announced I could run over to the gate.”

The punchline came while sitting there waiting for the nominations to be revealed: his Glee version of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” also started to play on the speakers. Looking around to see if perhaps one of the servers had clocked him and was being “cute”, because it was quite a bizarre coincidence, he realised that nope, “this is 8.30am in the international terminal and nobody gives a shit about my version of ‘Teenage Dream’,” he laughs. “But we just couldn’t fucking believe it, like what a crazy auspicious moment! But it was a nice little story.”

By now, it’s one that will have its ending fully wrapped up: the Emmys took place on September 17 in LA, which is where Darren is now on the other end of the phone. For context, it’s one of those intensely hot end-of-July days that everyone in London is complaining about. For Darren it’s a day of playing “Mr Octopus” as he puts it. “Today is insane. When you have ‘free time’, it’s actually more hectic because in the absence of stuff that you’re obligated to do you immediately see everything you’ve neglected a lot more clearly.”

In his perky twang, he gives me “the shorthand” of this: Elsie Fest to organise for autumn, the New York show-tune themed festival he founded; music to work on for Computer Games, the band he started with his brother; marketing for the new piano bar he and his fiancée, Mia Swier, have opened; projects he can’t talk about but is excited about; a wedding to plan “at some point” next year; work on the house; and that general life admin that creeps up on all of us. “Hey, we all got stuff,” he chimes.

And among all of this, he casually slips in: “I’m also reading scripts and trying to get another acting job if I can get one.” Which can’t help but make me laugh. If he can get one? Because, let’s be honest, regardless of the Emmys outcome (a big congratulations if you bagged it and if not, you were robbed!), his portrayal of Andrew Cunanan, as well as a stellar career to date (he replaced Daniel Radcliffe in How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying on Broadway to great success, is the mind behind A Very Potter Musicaland has starred in Hedwig and the Angry Inch), shouldn’t make that too hard. But it’s “cute” – as he would say – to know he doesn’t rest on his laurels.

Darren was terrifying and intriguing in his role as Cunanan, the serial killer who murdered four men before ending his violent spree with fashion designer Gianni Versace in FX’s American Crime Story retelling of the real-life event in Miami in 1997. When it aired earlier this year, I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t watching it. If you weren’t binge-streaming it, you were glued to BBC2 desperate for next week’s instalment to watch the unfolding plot of a story that in many ways is little known, certainly on the Cunanan front.

“A lot of it is pretty shrouded in mystery. There are two groups of people who have been particularly aware of the Cunanan story. Filipinos in my life all know someone who knew him,” says Darren, who, hailing from San Francisco, is also half Filipino, as was Cunanan. “And true crime addicts.” “The story itself, which is endlessly fascinating, is not only interesting but has significant social weight and things to be discussed and topics that I think are important. It goes on and on and on,” he enthuses. “The role is incredibly nuanced and varied and complex, which is something that actors wake up in the morning for.”

Where the first series spotlights The People v. OJ Simpson, a trial that arguably most people in the world – certainly in the US – are familiar with, the Versace murder, while shocking and awful (the designer himself being a significant cultural icon and his death a huge loss to the fashion industry) lent itself to more questions than answers. Which from Darren’s point of view gave him a certain amount of free rein. “You’re not stacked against people’s expectations of an impersonation of somebody. I think that helped audiences; it really gave me and our story a blank slate.”

It’s true. As a viewer, I couldn’t help but find my feelings and point of view change as the narrative revealed Cunanan’s own backstory. “That, to me, is the most heartening thing; that’s the most encouraging thing you could say – that’s the goal.”

His performance has been described as career-defining but it’s not the first time he’s had such an accolade aimed in his direction. Yet you can’t help but think that this one, Emmy nomination aside, might just be the one to carry a little more weight, such was the grit and darkness that came with it and played out by someone we’re more used to associating with the tween spark of Glee.

It seems, therefore, an apt time to ask what his fantasy role would be. “Oh man. I have a pretty wild imagination but I’d like to think that my brain isn’t good enough to imagine the part I’d want,” he says. “And, also, fantasies evolve throughout your life based on whatever situation you find yourself in.” American Crime Story, certainly, he says is the kind of role he’d been working and waiting his whole life to play – which is not to say he dreamt of being a serial killer! “Let’s keep turning left, turning hard rights and hard lefts as much as possible, as long as the story is good. The name of the game for me is variety and versatility. If every time I do a role we have people say that’s a real departure from the last thing that would be awesome.”

Darren got the acting bug – or “storytelling” bug as he prefers to call it – at a young age. He was a child at the heart of the Disney Renaissance era and Robin Williams lived locally in his native San Francisco. One day, when seeing Aladdin at the cinema (“I can’t even tell you how many times I went to go see it,”) and realising that the Genie was voiced by Williams, his eureka moment came.

“You know when you’re a kid and you have dreams of being something and they seem kind of far off from you unless there’s somebody you can see do it?” he offers. “I remember very distinctly watching this Genie bring so much joy to the people around me… and I wanted in on that, I wanted to be the Genie. But once you realise you can’t necessarily do that and I found out the voice of the genie was Robin Williams, I was like that’s the guy, that’s the famous guy that lives in our city! I can do that and so he was really a massive inspiration for me.”

So, too, was Peter Coyote, another San Francisco-based actor, whom Darren in fact cold-called to find out what he should do to be an actor. He subsequently enrolled at the American Conservatory Theater’s Young Conservatory Programme before studying drama at college. A keen violinist, music and acting had always worked in constant tandem. “So that’s why it’s so hilarious to me that by the time I got Glee I’d already been doing this my whole life,” he says.

At the time of the Gianni Versace murder, Darren was 10 years old. “I did [remember it] in a sort of vague sense of pop cultural event. Obviously, Versace is a massive international figure so I was aware that he was murdered.” It wasn’t until much later in 2011, when his Hollywood lifestyle led him to the world of high fashion, that the dots joined.

“We were on tour for Glee and I popped down to Milan to go to this Versace fashion show, which was an amazing event and you’re there with Donatella and there in the house, the estate of the Versace family.” On a tour of it, Darren recalls seeing beautiful home pieces and fashion works. “There were a lot of things from his personal collection and [the steward] of course was saying ‘Well this was made after Gianni’s murder in 1997.’ It codified in my brain. He was taken away a little too early.”

For ACS producer Ryan Murphy, it was Darren who codified in the brain. The Glee co-creator had long had him in mind for the part. “People like Ryan have had their eye on the Cunanan story for a long time and we had worked closely in a few capacities.” Darren just had to play the waiting game. “I honestly said just let me know when you want to do this because obviously it would be a huge opportunity for me and I think it would be an incredible story but I don’t really have the keys for that car, man. You’re the driver, let me know when you want to pick me up!” Three years later and that proverbial beep came.

In real life, Darren has to be one of the most modest and upbeat people, armed with an always-look-on-the-bright-side-of-life attitude. You imagine he’s not all that good at sitting still, hence his potentially self-inflicted to-do list, which you also get the feeling is built from passion not pain. “I just feel so grateful at every turn of my career; if you’re able to do anything and that there’s any definition at all is a huge win so I’ll take it where I can get it,” he says referring to the praise he’s received in playing Cunanan, one he’s also quick to bring back down to earth with a very grounding analogy. “Every moment of your life is defining. The fact that I decided to have granola this morning defines the rest of the way my digestive system works…” he laughs. He has quite the way with words.

This too is helpful in a Hollywood landscape right now that, post-Weinstein and post-Trump, has found itself in troubling times. “What a big, big topic,” he begins. “It’s the Wild West right now, truly, there are so many things that I think it’s not necessarily Hollywood figuring itself out, it’s our whole society figuring it out as represented by Hollywood. It kind of gets the brunt of it because of its exposure and its influence,” he explains. “There are a lot of good things happening in it for people who have been marginalised and we’re setting new standards for ourselves that we should have set a long time ago, and in that sense it’s really good. But there are unfortunately other things that are happening where it’s hard to draw the line of what’s right and wrong and a lot of questions are being asked that we’ve never asked ourselves before about what’s appropriate.”

Social media, too, he thinks plays a significant role, moving faster than we are able to keep up with. “There’s a lot of things that are falling by the wayside as a result of that. I’m making very vague comments but yeah it’s very tricky,” he concludes before diplomatically topic-shifting to his own lack of social media usage. Firstly, because he’s a private person. And secondly, unlike so many people, he does realise the responsibility that comes with publishing a post. “Even when Twitter started and people would post joke-stuff and I would say ‘Woah, woah, that’s out there forever, are you sure? I think you think only I’m seeing this,’.” He says he’s always been uneasy with the idea of this kind of ‘stuff’ existing in perpetuity.

Which means that the answer to the next question requires some serious thought. Who would make for his fantasy dinner party guests? British comedian Eddie Izzard (because Darren is a big Anglophile); if we could roll back time, Sammy Davis Jr, “who the world knows as a great entertainer but he was also an insane dancer and musician”; Nat King Cole for the same reasons; and, his number one choice, Howard Ashman, the lyricist and dramaturge behind the previously mentioned Disney renaissance (aka Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast). “I’ve always admired his craftsmanship and he’s someone I’ve always thought, if I had a dinner, I’d really like to have a chat with. All of my heroes are the people who were hyphenates,” says Darren, which makes sense because he’s just the same. One small suggestion: hold the fantasy dinner party at Planet Hollywood. That would make a nice story.

#darren criss #hunger magazine #acs versace #press #nov 2018

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buriednurbckyrd · 6 years

Text

Necessary Paradox (2)

*Thank you to everyone that read and liked/reblogged/commented on the first chapter! I’m not sure how many chapters this will have yet, and I still feel a bit like I’m navigating unknown territory with the a/b/o universe... But I’m excited to see where this takes me! Any and all feedback is welcome, it really helps me with the writing process!*

Y/N pulled her hand back and held it against her chest which suddenly felt tight. Steve's wide eyes were glued to her face.

“Um, excuse me. I-I'll be right back.” She said shakily before hurrying off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it.

“What just happened?” Bucky wondered aloud, staring at his friend. Steve shook his head, unable to formulate an answer just yet. His heart was pounding so hard he could almost hear it. His Alpha instincts were screaming at him to go after her. To order Y/N to open the door and…

And what?

“I think she's mine.” He said slowly. The thought made him smile, even though their encounter had lasted all of three minutes. “I think she's my true mate, Buck.” True mates were a concept Steve had given up ages ago as a silly romantic notion. It was the stuff of movies and cheesy paperbacks. Maybe in his youth he had fantasized about it, someone that was destined to be his other half. That would love and accept him for the sickly, skinny little thing he was.

“What?” Bucky hissed. “You aren't serious.” Steve grabbed his friend's arm and forced him to look him in the eye.

“I know it sounds nuts, but I just...” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He felt overwhelmed by the strange circumstances, his mind whirling with the enormity of what he was suggesting. Somehow he just knew.

Bucky nudged him, interrupting his thoughts. Y/N had opened the door and was coming back out. He drank in the sight, wanting to memorize every inch of her. She was soft and round, all generous curves. Her right arm was covered from shoulder to mid forearm in flowers of every type and color. A graceful peacock adorned her left, beautiful tail cascading down, its head curled on her shoulder. When she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear he caught a flash of metal. Several studs ran up her ear, and a bar went through the top and out again diagonally. There was also a thin silver hoop through one of her nostrils. He wondered what other tattoos or piercings she might have on the rest of her body hidden under her long gray dress and the thought had heat pooling in his stomach. His Alpha wanted nothing more than to strip her bare and explore every inch of her sumptuous body. He disguised a possessive growl with a cough, scolding himself for the outward display of aggression.

“I'm sorry about that,” she told them with a crooked smile. “It's been quiet here all day and I must have over done it a bit in the storage room.” Steve felt a pang in his chest at her obvious deflection. Bucky stepped forward and touched her arm and he bristled.

“Are you okay? We can reschedule if you need to.” Bucky is a friend. Bucky is not a rival Alpha, he repeated over and over in his head.

“I'm fine, really. I just needed a minute. I have your design here and if you like it, we can get started when you're ready.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance. She pulled out two pieces of paper, and Steve crept closer to get a good look at her drawings. “I know you said you liked just the head or face, but I drew up another option just to cover all the bases.” Both men were impressed by her skill. One showed a wolf's head, the face calm and relaxed. The other was the full body, lying down. Somehow they both portrayed a quiet sort of dignity.

“Wow, these are both great.” Bucky told her, scrutinizing both. “But I think I still prefer just the face.” Y/N nodded.

“I thought you would, but I still wanted you to see both options. Let me just go print out your stencil and we're good to go.” She led them back to her station and told Bucky where to sit. “Steve? Feel free to pull up one of those chairs, okay?” His stomach flipped when she addressed him directly and he watched her as she moved around setting up the last few things she needed to begin her work. When she pulled on a pair of black latex gloves he noticed a smattering of faded pink scars littered across her hands. “Alright, time to strip for me.” Bucky chuckled at her teasing tone and pulled his shirt off. Steve noticed the lack of hesitation which made his hackles rise and shamed him. It should have made him happy to see his guarded friend so comfortable around another person.

When she had transferred the stencil to his skin she picked up her machine and turned it on, dipping the tip into a little cap full of ink.

“Ready?” She asked.

“As I'll ever be.” Bucky replied with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She made a small first pass with the needle and paused to make sure he was okay with the feeling. “You can't hurt me, sweetheart.” He told her, and she continued. As she worked she kept up a light conversation. She seemed more relaxed with her hands busy. Every time she would gently wipe away excess ink mixed with blood her eyes would flick up and meet Steve's. He felt like she was scrutinizing him in those fleeting moments, but her hands never shook and her concentration never appeared to waver from Bucky's skin.

God, her scent was driving him insane. Sweet, like warm honey and fresh peaches; but a bit of something wild like the hint of a thunderstorm on a summer breeze. He couldn't help his body's reaction to her, but if she was picking up on any of it, she gave away nothing. Bucky read his friend like a book, his annoyed glances becoming darker as a haze of pheromones grew heavier in the space.

After completing the outline, Y/N excused herself for a short break. Both men declined her offer of a cold beverage.

“I'm just going to stretch my legs for a few minutes, and I need to check in with my partner.” She told them and went out the back door. As soon as it closed behind her, Bucky jumped all over Steve.

“What. The. Fuck.” He punched him in the arm. “You smell like a horny teenager!”

“I'm sorry! I can't help it!” Steve flushed bright red. “Do you want me to leave?” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don't know, it might be weirder if you just left at this point. You've been here this long and it doesn't seem to be affecting her.” His words made his heart ache. Why wasn't she affected at all? How could Steve be tied up into knots while she was cool, calm, and collected? Except for her quick retreat to the bathroom right after their introduction, she gave no sign that she was feeling the same connection he was.

“I'll try and rein it in,” he muttered. “But I can't make any promises. It isn't like I'm doing this on purpose.” He slumped back in his chair miserably. Y/N walked back in before Bucky could reply.

“I know y'all said you didn't want anything, but I brought a few bottles of water in case you changed your mind.” She handed them each a cold bottle. “Will says 'hello', by the way. And he hopes you'll come back when you're healed up so he can see the finished tat.” Bucky turned away from his brooding friend and smiled at her.

“Of course I will.” He watched her pull on a fresh pair of gloves and swap out the needles in her machine with deft hands.

“Ready for the next round?”

“Damn right I am.”

…

Bucky stared at the finished product in the mirror, lost for words. The details were so sharp and defined, it was like a photo looking back at him. He had harbored some small doubt that she would be able to pull off a white animal on his skin, but with clever shadows and highlights he had a gorgeous wolf etched into his skin. Two bright blue eyes seemed to stare back at him. There was no trace of aggression in the expression, just a sense of serene majesty. He felt tears prick at the back of his eyes and he had to clear his throat a few times before he could speak.

“I love it, Y/N. I just… Wow.” He turned his arm to look at it from a few different angles. “Thank you. I feel like you pulled this directly from my head.” Y/N gave him a gentle side hug.

“I'm really glad you're happy with it.”

“It's beautifully done,” Steve murmured. “You're exceptionally talented, Y/N.” She looked at him, face inscrutable.

“Thanks, Steve.” She replied quietly. She turned back to Bucky. “Now, I'm going to wrap it up and you should keep it covered for at least an hour before rinsing it off with lukewarm water. Do you have any questions about the after care at all?” Bucky shook his head.

“No, you covered everything pretty thoroughly.” He held up the card she had given him. “And it's all here, so I can't screw anything up.”

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” she smiled brightly at him. “But if you have any questions or concerns you can call me at any time.” She started subtly leading them towards the door.

“Thank you again, Y/N. I'll come back when I'm healed so you can get a picture and Will can see it.” He paused at the door before pulling her into a real hug. Steve barely stifled the growl that threatened to bubble up in his throat. Bucky patted her shoulder one last time before leaving, assuming that Steve was right behind him.

“Uh, Y/N?” He said, holding the door. He felt her hesitate before turning to face him. “I was um, wondering… Maybe I could call you some time? We could have coffee or d-dinner?” His face felt like it was on fire, but he couldn't make himself leave without asking her. She was quiet for a just few moments, but it felt like an eternity to him. His heart sank when she shook her head.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Steve.” She wouldn't meet his eyes. “But it was nice meeting you. Have a good night.” Before he knew what was happening, he was standing out on the sidewalk and she was locking the door.

“Come on, Punk! I'm starving!” Bucky yelled, already several yards away. Steve blinked a few times, trying to process what just happened before slowly turning to follow his friend.

…

Y/N practically ran up the stairs to the apartment above the shop. The door slammed behind her and she slid down it, sitting on the floor with her hands pressed against her chest, her heart racing. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, but she wasn't entirely sure why. Jeremiah's Siamese cat padded over to her, meowing a greeting and rubbing against Y/N's legs. She reached out and scratched the cat's head absently, freezing when she caught sight of her scarred knuckles.

“I had to say no,” she whispered to the empty apartment. “He's America's golden hero, and I'm a broken nobody.” She rested her forehead on her arms and let herself cry.

#plus sized reader #omega!reader #Alpha!Steve #A/B/O verse #Marvel AU #steve rogers x plus size reader

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lia-nikiforov · 5 years

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Summer 2018 Final Review

As I explained in my Spring review, my anime watching time plummeted dramatically due to my mom’s unemployment, so I had to massively scale down to barely a dozen shows, vs 20ish I was watching in spring. I dropped Senjuushi (found myself bored to death in the first 10 minutes), Yume100 and Tsukumogami Kashimasu, and gave up on checking out Sirius and Baki. You win this round, stupid Netflix.

Worst to best. I’m also including the shows that were continuing from Spring. Not including Banana Fish, the only summer show that I’m watching and continues into the current season.

Kyoto Teramachi Sanjou Holmes: Did I have any particular expectations for this show? Not really, I just wanted to see Kyoto sceneries. Somehow this show managed to stay beneath my expectations through its whole run. From its absolutely potato production values, to half-baked, poorly solved mysteries, an overarching plot that went nowhere, and a romance story that just never landed, the show kind of failed on everything it set itself to do and that’s kind of incredible in its own right. It didn’t even provide Kyoto sceneries, with most of the story confined to closed houses and shops. The show doesn’t even make me angry, it’s just a monument to mediocrity in every possible way.

(appreciate the melting faces)

Angolmois: I’ve mentioned a million times that I’m a rekijo through and through, and anime with historical settings get me excited like nothing else. I was really looking forward to how they would reimagine the mongol invasions. Turns out they just wanted a macho power fantasy in which the one dude gets the tsundere princess and is the only one with a chance to survive against the invaders. The whole thing is just a parade of misery and pointless deaths to make the main character look super strong and heroic. I do appreciate the completely random appearance of emperor Antoku, as someone who is extremely passionate about ridiculous and fantastic representations of historical characters, when Antoku showed up, alive and old smack in the middle of the 1300s (emperor Antoku died as a child at the end of the 12th century), I found myself screeching.

Phantom in the Twilight: I was kinda talked into binging this one two weeks before the season ended. Gotta say I wasn’t super impressed, the show also suffered massive potato production values, the design of the bishonen was pretty generic and the story was overall cheesy and dumb. But I do appreciate the novelty in Ton as a proactive reverse harem protagonist who takes the reins of her fate and is capable of saving herself and those she loves.

(enjoy more melting faces)

Hanebado!: My story with Hanebado is quite rocky. I wasn’t interested in it at first, then it had that phenomenal first episode with a very strong second ep following. Then it kinda lost focus and finally completely lost it bonkers after the midpoint, with Hanesaki going murder mode after her loss to Connie. I should’ve realized sooner that the title Hanebado was for Hanesaki’s Badminton, but I only realized it too late, when I was already tired of all the Ayano nonsense and wanted to get more of Nagisa, a far more interesting character. I’ve heard the manga had several changes of tone early on and the anime seems to have tried to mellow them out a bit, which made the story very inconsistent -Ayano and Connie the main victims-. Another issue is the show’s failure to condemn Uchika and just leaving us hanging on to what even is her deal. I think it’s a step in the right direction in terms of the kind of sports anime with female characters that I want to see more of, but the lack of consistency hurt the overall production quite a bit. Oh, but the direction and animation was fantastic!

Steins;Gate 0: What a started as an interesting and engaging spinoff that had one of the most beautiful episodes of the whole franchise, petered out into boredom and pointlessness in the second half and it’s quite disheartening. There were still some highlight moments, but overall, the end feeling I had for this whole side story is that it served very little purpose, explaining things that didn’t really need explaining and adding random plotlines that kind of went nowhere, like the whole Kagari business, Moeka suddenly not being one of the bad guys, a random new character with Reading Steiner that never was relevant, the whole AI approach that could’ve been so much more cutting and interesting but wasn’t, and the cartoonish villain. I was specially frustrated by the fact we didn’t even get to see the real Kurisu in the end. Oh well, we will always have that one episode that was absolutely brilliant.

(faces aren’t as melty, but clearly this staff didn’t have any color on hand besides brown and gray, this show looks sad and ugly)

Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight: What if someone wanted to make an idol anime but they were a huge, huge Ikuhara fan? That is the question Revue Starlight sets out to answer and the result is as fascinating as Ikuhara’s best and as cryptic as his worst. Although I didn’t connect with the main story between the main girls whose names I can’t remember for the life of me, the episodes focused on Banana-senpai and the girls who played the main couple in the 99th show were pretty strong, and the stylishness of the battles, the songs and the intense teen emotions made it all very compelling even when I wasn’t understanding most of it. Worth checking out for sure. Also: Lesbians.

Free! Dive to the Future: Oh, Utsumi, why did you leave us. Even though every Free! fan had been clamoring for a new season, they somehow managed to make Season 3 the season no one ever asked for, fans of the novels and the Starting Days movie and fans of the anime’s two seasons, neither got the focus on the characters they love, with the story scattered across four or five cities and two dozen characters that only interact in small groups of three that never cross. Also, every notorious swimmer in the world actually came from Iwatobi. It felt like we wasted 8 episodes on Ikuya’s (overblown) melodrama only for the character to completely disappear in the last third of the show. Overall, the season felt more setup for the inevitable World Championship/Olympics/whatever they’re planning to do in 2020. I just hope that most of the issues with this season are a product of its fillerish nature and not just that Free has really become a shell of its former self without Utsumi. I’m putting it this high on the list because on a superficial level i enjoyed seeing these characters again, but the whole package was just sourly lacking. Needs more Rin in general and RinHaru moments.

Attack on Titan 3: The opposite case from above, season 3 keeps the tone and pace of the second one to a tea, with the handicap of adapting a somewhat weaker part of the manga when seen in isolation. I also feel the anime tried a bit too hard to humanize Kenny and that the Ackerman reveal was just kinda thrown there. Let’s hope there’s a season 4, because their chosen stopping point makes a fantastic season finale, but would make a very frustrating ending if this were to be the last season.

Planet With: It seems the new trend is “shows I didn’t even have in my radar and somehow end up among my favorites of the season”. Planet With isn’t terribly deep or complex, the character designs are somewhat generic and old-fashioned, and if you heard of the plot it would sound equal parts generic and overstuffed. Yet, somehow, the show manages to strike the perfect balance of excitement and heart, with a brisk pace that somehow doesn’t feel rushed and masterful writing that quickly endears the audience to its characters. It’s a simplistic story about love, war and families that manages to feel entirely new. It’s a shame it’s a sales disaster, because the industry definitely needs more original stories like this.

Lupin III Part V: This one was a rocky ride too, with a very strong start, then some really bleh episodes in the middle -to the point I was close to dropping it when I fell behind on everything, mid-summer, but the second half, the return of Ami and the final arc were brilliant in every possible way, specially the meta commentary they added to the Lupin mythos. When Lupin is down at his worst and Jigen tries to persuade him to quit, the speech Lupin gives, about wanting to see what’s next in the hero’s story, it was so powerful in a narrative sense, it made all the floppy episodes worth the watch. Definitely something you should check out if you’re a Lupin fan.

Cells at Work! Listen, folks, I went into the humanities because I found science dreadfully unappealing, so how dare this stupid poorly veined edutainment make me so invested in the inner workings of the human body and the anthropomorphized versions of the cells whose hard work i waste day in and day out with my decadent lifestyle?! I’m sorry Neutrophyl, i wish I was a better human being so you wouldn’t have to deal with so many pathogens ;----; Jokes aside, this show isn’t just edutainment, but very clever and funny in ways that edutainment shouldn’t be allowed to be. I didn’t expect anything going in and I’m so pleased it turned out to so much fun. And it managed to teach me some science!

Boku no Hero Academia 3: Hero Academia, like a good wine, only seems to get better with time. An okay first season gave way to a great second season and an absolutely fantastic third. The midseason finale was, easily the strongest emotional climax of the series so far (and I’m not saying that just because I have the biggest crush on All Might). And it doesn’t stop there; what makes this show so special is how well thought out and crafted its worldbuilding is, and how intelligent in its development of the sociocultural repercusions of the hero system, how evildoers and society at large react to certain events in a way that feels real and natural because it mimics how many things work in our real world. Although the season finale was kind of a clunky spot, we know a season 4 is coming, so I’m not worried, and in fact can’t wait to see how this story continues.

And that was it for the Summer, whoosh! Maybe if I keep on this roll I can actually do my Fall season watchlist ;----;

#summer anime #anime final impressions #boku no hero academia #cells at work #lupin III #planet with #attack on titan #free! dive to the future #shoujo kageki revue starlight #steins; gate 0 #kyoto teramachi sanjou holmes #angolmois #phantom in the twilight #hanebado

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