#i really like this style i should do palette challenges again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sage-nebula · 3 years

Text

Game Review — Blue Fire

One of my all-time favorite game series is The Legend of Zelda. My favorite game of all time is The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. And my second favorite game of all time is Hollow Knight. So it would make sense, then, to think that a combination of the two would be the most amazing thing the world had to offer me.

Overall Score: 7/10

Well . . . it could have been better. It also could have been worse, absolutely, but it also could have been better. For more detailed thoughts, jump below the cut (and view on blog due to formatting).

The Pros:

The graphics and animation are beautiful. The specific Zelda game the graphics brought to mine (despite the color palette, which was clearly more Hollow Knight inspired) was The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. Whatever reason the developers had for going the cel shaded route (maybe they had an artistic vision in mind, or maybe it was easier somehow) it was a good one to make. In particular, all of the glowing and flame effects were lovely, the shadows all fell in the right places, the characters were charming to look at, et cetera. Everything worked well with the acrobatics as well. Visually, the game is beautiful.

For the most part, the platforming is fair and even platforming challenges are doable with enough practice. This is particularly true for the overworld / main dungeons, rather than the Voids, which are more extra dungeons that you don’t have to complete to beat the game (although doing so certainly makes the game easier given that each completed Void gives you another life heart). While there were some areas where the game lagged for whatever reason and threw off crucial timing, as well as some Voids that were definitely more Platform Hell than simply platforming, the platforming puzzles were very well put together for the most part and were enjoyable to play.

The fast travel system, when unlocked, is incredibly convenient and takes a lot of the headache out of traveling around the world, particularly given that you use the shrines for a number of things (fast travel, saving, char—spirit equips) and there aren’t any maps present in this game whatsoever. It does take some time to unlock fast travel and you’re not exactly pointed in the direction to get it (in fact I had to look up to figure out where I was supposed to go to get it), but once you have it it’s a well-developed system that took a lot of pain out of playing that would have otherwise been there.

A minor thing that I liked, but (just like in Hollow Knight) when you die, your spirit or soul is left behind. Also like in Hollow Knight, it keeps all of the money you had on you when you died. Essentially, it is the exact same thing as the Shade from Hollow Knight, but white instead of black. Anyway, the minor thing I liked about this is that if you die in a boss fight, your spirit waits for you directly outside the boss arena, meaning that you don’t have to try to reclaim it while the boss is trying to kill you. It was a nice bone the developers threw the player.

While no tracks in particular standout, and while the OST doesn’t live up to the OSTs of the inspirations behind this game, there were times when the music was very nice, which is always a plus.

While the main quest is very short, there are numerous sidequests you can do even apart from the Voids that give you things to do in each area, making them feel a little less small and giving you a bit more time with the game, as well as unlockables as rewards (mainly in the form of new costumes, but still). There are lots of little secrets hidden around in each area too, which is nice to discover if you’re someone like me who loves exploring in games.

The Neutrals:

The story. The story is . . . how do I put this . . . okay. So, it’s clear the developers wanted to write a story with the aesthetic of Hollow Knight (ruined kingdom, lots of shadow / light dichotomy, fallen kingdom, et cetera), but with an overt storytelling style like The Legend of Zelda. So you get a lot of exposition about what happened in the past, and what you as the main character are supposed to do now . . . but the thing about the exposition is that not only is the same thing repeated about fifteen different times (such as the constant harping on about how the main character contains both light and shadow within them), but also there are huge chunks of seemingly important detail that are just left unexplained. Like for instance: we know that the Fire Guardians from the Fire Keep were one of the last strongholds against the Shadow (who was also the sixth god and has also corrupted the queen yadda yadda). And we can extrapolate that the Fire Guardians were specifically trying to create a warrior that was both light and shadow based on the fact that the game starts with the main character breaking out of a test tube with a bunch of corpses that look just like the player scattered around, seeming to be failed experiments (i.e. just like how the Pale King created the Hollow Knight in Hollow Knight). But the only Fire Guard that we see around is Von. I think he mentions briefly once that the Fire Guards were trying to make the warrior, or had made the warrior, or something like that, but we’re never told why, exactly. We don’t know what processes led to that. We don’t know who was in charge. We don’t know why this specific type of warrior was needed except “since you have both you may be the answer.” And the fact that there were apparently a bunch of failed experiments is never really touched upon either. Furthermore, we’re told that the five gods had lifted Penumbra (the world) into the sky to protect it from the Shadow (a la Hylia raising Skyloft to protect the people from Demise), but that it didn’t work and the Shadow ultimately got to them anyway. So allegedly this is a post-apocalyptic land. But the only thing to really be ravaged is the Temple of Gods, where apparently the corrupted queen sleeps. Everyone else seems mostly fine as long as they avoid the monsters? It’s like they were going for what Hollow Knight did, but didn’t quite want to go the full route of having corpses literally everywhere on-screen at all times. Although weirdly enough, there is also a distinct lack of NPCs which makes the world feel more empty than Hallownest despite the circumstances . . . What I’m getting at here is that there definitely is a story, but it was told in a way that was pretty sloppy. It’s not so sloppy that it detracts from the overall experience, but it’s like too much was piled on in some areas and not enough was explained in other areas. Or like they took some things they liked from other games (e.g. making the creation of the “warrior of light and shadow” reminiscent of the creation of the Hollow Knight) without following through on what made those things work. Like it wasn’t just that there were a lot of failed Knights and that their corpses were tossed into the abyss and that The Knight had to try to claw his way out (as did Broken Vessel and others) while the “successful” Hollow Knight was raised by the Pale King. It was also that we know that the entire reason why the Hollow Knight was created in the first place was to contain the Radiance / the Plague. It was also that these hundreds or thousands of corpses were the Pale King’s children. It was also that the Pale King has a monologue over that segment saying, “no mind to think, no will to break, no voice to cry suffering” as requirements for the Hollow Knight to be considered successful. The horror didn’t come just from the corpses being tossed down the pit around you as you had to climb up in an attempt to get out, but also at all of the surrounding context, which was left entirely out of Blue Fire’s version with the warrior of light and shadow. Not that they should have copied it (although if they had it really wouldn’t have been surprising), but it’s clear what they were trying to do and where they failed because they didn’t have the follow through to go with it. I feel like the above paragraph is so critical I should move it to The Cons, but I do want to say that I don’t think the story itself was terrible. It borrows so much from both Zelda and Hollow Knight that it really isn’t original and it doesn’t follow through on things that made those stories work, but overall it doesn’t ruin the experience, even if all of the repetition gets old pretty quickly. Although as a final note, I’ll also add another thing that bugged me, which is that we never learn what the people of Penumbra are. Like we know the Shadow is bad, but they all look like Shadow people. We know there are creatures called “onops” but we don’t know what they are, or if everyone is an onop. Whereas in Hollow Knight we know that all the characters are bugs. It’s just another little thing that wasn’t explained but probably should have been.

On a less long note, the combat is also pretty mediocre. Again, it’s not bad. There is a parry system that, if you learn to time it right to actually pull off the parry, is pretty cool. But although you are given magic, which is useful for killing long-distance enemies, the magic can’t do a single thing for you in boss battles no matter how many times you upgrade your mana. Additionally, it is very much a “mash Y to win” type of game, where Y is the button you use to attack and you just mash that while jumping around. There’s no complexity to the combat at all or any strategy that is really required. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s nothing to write home about either.

The charms in this game are called spirits, and while you can buy a majority of them from shopkeepers, you can also “capture” your own by coming across the spirit of a dead person and trapping it to use its power for yourself. This is made apparent when you go back to a young child who is dead the second time you go to see them, and capture their spirit for use. Also when you literally murder an NPC for a sidequest and then later capture their spirit to use for your own use. And aside from the sidequest giver being horrified you killed the NPC and telling you to keep it hush-hush (without even knowing that you can and will capture the spirit of that murder victim for your own use) this . . . is never really remarked upon. Ever. And the thing is, it creates a sort of dissonance, because your character is treated as a hero in this game. No one seems horrified by you, there’s never any question of whether your existence is moral or not, nor any reason to think that your character would be amoral. In Hollow Knight, the Knights were created to be soulless husks who were there to be vessels for the Radiance / infection. Hornet in particular calls out your cursed existence and how she does not like you because of it. But although you can learn “emotes” from statues (which is teaching your character either actions or emotions, it’s unclear), no such deal is made here. So this aspect of the game is strange, even if I can at least appreciate that they tried to make their spirits a tiny bit different from Hollow Knight’s charms. Though with that said . . .

The Cons:

It’s one thing to be inspired by other games, but the sheer amount that this game cops from The Legend of Zelda and Hollow Knight is, at least to me, incredibly distracting. Just a handful of examples off the top of my head: — In Hollow Knight, you have a Shade that lingers where you last died and keeps all of your money from when you died. In Blue Fire, you have a spirit / soul (again, it’s unnamed) that lingers where you died and keeps all of your money from when you died. You have to retrieve them before you die again to get your money back. — In Hollow Knight, you have different circular charms that each have a different design, name, and grant you different abilities. You can only have a certain amount equipped at a time (though you can increase how many you can equip at once) and you can only equip them at save points. In Blue Fire you have different spirits that are contained in circles that each have a different design, name, and grant you different abilities. You can only have a certain amount equipped at a time (though you can increase how many you can equip at once) and you can only equip them at save points. — Everything I explained above about how the main character breaking out of a test tube at the beginning, surrounded by corpses just like them, felt like an echo of the Knight’s creation in Hollow Knight (but again, not as effective for reasons outlined above). — The default tunic has a hat that is exactly like Link’s from The Legend of Zelda. This is made even more obvious with the dyed green tunics. — The story segment detailing how the five gods created Penumbra was copped from how the golden goddesses created Hyrule from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. To compare the dialogue: Ocarina of Time: “Din. With her flaming arms, cultivated the land and created the red earth.” Blue Fire: “Dina, God of Land. With her mighty body of stone, Dina carved mountains, deserts, and landforms in the earth.” It’s in the exact same cadence, to the point where I half expected the artifact they created at the end of the story to be the Triforce (instead it was called the Oath of Sarana). — In Hollow Knight, the titular Hollow Knight is housed inside the Temple of the Black Egg, and is in fact locked inside that Black Egg to seal the Radiance / infection. There are three locks on the egg, and each one will only be broken when one of the three Dreamers dies. You have to break all three locks to face him, a corrupted “final” boss. In Blue Fire, the corrupted queen is housed inside the Temple of the Gods. There are three locks on her door, and each one will only be broken when one of the three Shadow Lords dies. You have to break all three locks to face her, the corrupted final boss. — It’s implied that, especially in places like the Temple Gardens, that the humanoid enemies that attack you are not monsters, but are people who were once completely normal and even forces of good who were corrupted by the Shadow. This is exactly like how all of the enemies you face in Hollow Knight (with the exception of, say, Hornet) were also once normal bugs before they were turned into zombies by the infection. I could go on. The point is, it’s perfectly fine to be inspired by something. Hell, it would be hard to find an action/adventure game that wasn’t inspired by The Legend of Zelda at this point. But it’s one thing to be inspired by something, and another thing to completely rip-off your inspiration to the point where the similarities are distracting to your audience. And it’s not just me; when I was looking up the exact dialogue for the story of the gods from Blue Fire, I found others who were pointing out just how similar everything was to Hollow Knight in particular, including someone who, like me, realized that the Temple of the Gods was essentially the Temple of the Black Egg. When things are this blatant, it feels a whole lot less like inspiration and a whole lot more like plagiarism.

The Voids all have a star rating to indicate how difficult they are. These star ratings are completely meaningless. Granted, partly it’s because everyone is going to have different abilities and so it will be hard to create an overall difficulty scoring that will be accurate for every player, but it’s also telling when a four-star course is miles easier than a two-star course, which I found to be the case on more than one occasion due to level design that was, at times, kind of bullshit.

Although there are NPCs, there are none who are memorable or standout, despite the fact that most of Penumbra’s populace is (maybe?) still alive. Unlike in Hollow Knight, where there were characters like Elderbug, the Last Stag, Hornet, Quirrel, and so forth that were memorable and lovable, all of the NPCs in Blue Fire feel rather the same and are pretty easily forgettable.

The world itself is incredibly small. While the fact there are no maps makes this kind of a good thing, on the other hand it’s a bit disappointing that there are a total of two towns and then a few small connecting areas. It doesn’t really make it feel like the kingdom that it’s supposed to be.

On that note, why aren’t there maps? The fact that there is fast travel is really more of a necessity than mere convenience because there are no maps to help lead you around. If you put down the game for a while and then go back to it, you might not remember how to get to different areas in the game, and if you haven’t unlocked fast travel yet (since it is something you have to unlock) you’re going to be pretty much boned due to the lack of a feature that is in basically every other game.

Overall, while this is not a game I think I would ever go back to, it also isn’t one that I regretted purchasing and playing. It could definitely have been better, but it also could have been worse. My only hope is that the next game this studio makes is more original, rather than copying so much from other, more successful titles. (Or at the very least, that they study why certain things worked in more successful titles, instead of just copying at the surface level and calling it a day.)

#2021 game reviews #blue fire #blue fire game #have had this sitting in drafts forever #tbh probably could have added more but I just don't feel like opening this game again to refresh my memory #which probably says more than this whole review does tbh

13 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 3 years

Photo

Third Language.

With her debut film Farewell Amor out now following a successful journey on the festival circuit, Tanzanian-American writer and director Ekwa Msangi tells Selome Hailu about the third language of music, growing up on knockoffs of the Rambo franchise, and her favorite African filmmakers.

There’s a subtle musicality central to the way Ekwa Msangi carries herself. She finds melodies in her words: “You hum the ‘m’,” she says when asked how to pronounce her last name. “Mmm-sangi.” And perhaps to a more subconscious degree, she speaks with rhythm, too: “I do think, and I know, and I can see…” she trails off, ruminating on how much hope she feels for the future of Black filmmaking. Naturally, this musical quality meanders into her work.

Farewell Amor is a quiet film, except for when it isn’t. Three Angolan immigrants revolve around each other in an awkward orbit, each trying to make sense of their dynamic now that they’ve left their home behind. Kept apart for seventeen years by the bureaucratic intricacies of war and paperwork, Walter (Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine) is finally joined by his wife Esther (Zainab Jah) and daughter Sylvia (Jayme Lawson—soon to be seen as Bella Reál in The Batman) in New York City. But they don’t know each other anymore and spend much of their time in silence, until music and dance burst forward as a chance at common ground.

Msangi’s screenplay never dwells on the technicalities of the family’s struggle against the American immigration system. Instead, it plunges into softer, more personal after-effects of dreams deferred. Walter’s walls bear a faded calendar with Barack Obama’s face on it, even though his empty apartment complicates the “hope” the president promised people like him. When his family arrives at long last, Esther wears a silver cross pendant, having made sense of these years as a married-yet-single mother by drawing closer—almost too close—to religion. Sylvia barely speaks at all, caught between a faith that isn’t hers and a home that isn’t either.

Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine and Nana Mensah in ‘Farewell Amor’. / Photo courtesy IFC Films

The film’s triptych structure emerged after Msangi spent months grappling with how to create a feature-length screenplay out of her original short film. “Having just come off of the short, I was focusing on Walter’s story. But [I] didn’t think that was the most original story I could tell,” she says. “And then, out of indecision between whether I should make it Walter’s or Sylvia’s story, I decided to just do both. Initially it was two perspectives that I was looking at. But I realized that Esther’s story was really the linchpin for both of their stories, and it wouldn’t make sense not to have hers.”

Giving Walter, Esther and Sylvia their own chapters makes Farewell Amor a stronger film than if it had followed a singular, traditional protagonist. Extreme conservatism in one chapter is revealed as a desire to avoid pain in another; one character’s cramped living room is another’s space to dance freely. Writing on Letterboxd, Tabby points out how the three-part narrative structure grants meaningful subjectivity to characters who deserve it: “It’s so easy for Westernized perspectives to steamroll over films that deal in cultural disparities and thematics, but Farewell Amor takes important steps in showing all sides of the story,” she writes. “It was refreshing to see [the characters] each given the space to exist.”

This layering of voices happens in the camerawork, too. Each section of the narrative is marked with a visual language of its own, complete with specific color palettes and cinematographic techniques. Msangi thinks fondly about the work she put in with cinematographer Bruce Francis Cole to make the chapters distinct. “For Walter’s, it’s sort of a slow cinema, where there’s a lot of still framing. It’s almost like he’s stuck, you know? Stuck in the frame between two surfaces, two hard surfaces, a window frame, a door frame. And in Sylvia’s, we wanted to have it reflect her livelihood, her restlessness. All handheld cameras, all movement. And then for Esther, she’s very observant. She’s been taking everything in, almost in an investigative style, but also a little bit romantic. She’s romanticized this setup, so a lot of close shots, a lot of soft lighting.”

Jayme Lawson as Sylvia in ‘Farewell Amor’. / Photo courtesy IFC Films

Music gives Farewell Amor a cohesion across the different storylines. “Music is, for these characters in particular, and for me, kind of a third language,” Msangi says. “It gives you a glimpse under the covers, what’s under the sheets.” The soundtrack underscores strong performances from Mwine, Jah and Lawson, lending depth to their quietude and vibrance to their movement. Msangi also notes how sound became a cornerstone of her collaboration with the actors: “As I was writing from different perspectives, in order to help me get into each character’s skin, I would listen to the music that they would be interested in.” She later shared these playlists with the actors, using the songs to communicate what words couldn’t.

Msangi has a good laugh as she tries to think about the major films that inspired her to become a filmmaker. “You know, I don’t have that. Well, I do have that, but not for the reasons that most of my film peers have,” she says. Growing up in East Africa in the ’80s and ’90s, little to none of the programming on television was local. What did kids watch instead? “We watched Rambo for probably ten years straight, and then Rambo knockoffs for another ten years after that. I decided to become a filmmaker because of horrible Rambo knockoff films.”

“I grew up surrounded by such colorful and delightful and interesting and funny people,” Msangi says. “And none of that was reflected anywhere in the media.” As she grew older, she sought out African films she couldn’t access in her youth. Now, they’re some of her highest recommendations. Ousmane Sembène is the first African director whose filmography she ever got the chance to dive into. Sembène’s 50-year career has garnered him the affectionate title of ‘Father of African film’ among many critics and scholars, who laud him for his dramas, including Black Girl and Camp de Thiaroye. Msangi, however, finds herself taken with his unique sense of humor. She has also been inspired by Safi Faye, another Senegalese director, who became the first sub-Saharan African woman to attain commercial distribution in 1975—and whose film Mossane portrays sexual intimacy with an openness Msangi hadn’t seen elsewhere.

Writer-director Ekwa Msangi. / Photo courtesy IFC Films

In Farewell Amor, Sylvia’s chapter reads like a compacted coming-of-age film. Msangi points to South African director Darrell James Roodt’s Sarafina! as an influence in that regard. “It was showing for two weeks in Nairobi, and I lined up for four hours to watch,” she says about the film, a drama about youth involvement in the 1976 Soweto uprising. “Even though it’s from a different part of the continent, I’d never seen young African teenagers on a screen before.” More recently, she has loved 2011 TIFF breakout and Oscar contender Death for Sale by Moroccan director Faouzi Bensaïdi, and Radha Blank’s The Forty-Year-Old Version is her favorite film of 2020. She’s hopeful about the future of Black American cinema: Ava DuVernay and Ryan Coogler are two of her favorite working directors.

Msangi’s selections are wide in range, but there’s still one thing holding them together: themes of vulnerability, community and celebration of identity, across different decades and genres. In fact, her approach to watching movies isn’t far off from the way she made her own—Farewell Amor maps concurrent experiences of disparate people, and Msangi’s tastes seem driven by the same balance of vastness and specificity.

“I’m a filmmaker who really abhors working on the same kind of story over and over again, the same genre, the same kinds of characters,” she says. “So I’m not going to make my career just telling stories about immigrants or about, you know, their wretched troubles,” she laughs. “I don’t want to do that.”

Msangi’s next project will be an African-American period piece; beyond that, she hopes to make films in several locations: the Caribbean, Europe and all over the African continent. “I really would like to just have a lot of fun with my career. You know? Because it’s a fun and magical industry that we work in! The work that we do in creating these stories and hopes and dreams—we create magic, so it should be fun.”

Related content

Adam Davie’s Black Life on Film list

Shachar’s 20 Films by Black Directors 2021 Challenge

Screenpaige’s list of Black Women in Film

Follow Selome on Letterboxd

‘Farewell Amor’ is out now in select theaters and on demand through IFC.

#ekwa msangi #jayme lawson #farewell amor #african cinema #black filmmaker #black director #directed by women #52 films by women #female director #black woman director #american film #drama #romance #dance film #angolan cinema #angola #letterboxd

33 notes · View notes

owakoblack-portspa · 3 years

Text

(APH PortSpa) African Holiday

APH fan fiction. I do not own the characters.

Pairing: Portugal/ Spain, Spain/ Portugal

Pedro is the nation of Portugal and Antonio is the nation of Spain. For convenience, I use their human names instead of names of nations in this fiction. Pedro and Spain meet at Ceuta, a city in Africa.

African Holiday

On a very quiet night, a long-haired little boy was sleeping alone on a large, soft bed. Such a huge bed was more suitable for at least two boys lying on it, and sure enough, this boy lied on the right side of the bed, as if saving a place for somebody to sleep on the left side.

Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door broke the silence, causing the boy in bed to wake. He did not get up at once, but simply turned onto the other side.

“Disculpe, may I come in?” A sweet voice of a little boy called out beyond the door. Both the boys had dark-brown hair.

The boy in bed reached out for a spare pillow lying on the left side of the bed, and pressed it upon his ear, trying hard to continue sleeping.

“I can’t sleep, can I sleep with you?” The child outside the door raised his voice, and knocked more loudly.

“How old are you? Can’t you sleep alone? It’s time to grow up!” The boy in bed finally replied.

“Lo siento.”

Since then, the boy outside the door never came again.

In Ceuta, a harbour city on the northern tip of Africa, you can find everywhere talkative Spaniards, logos written in Spanish, products from Europe, flags in red and gold colours, and you feel there is no difference from Andalusia on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. However, Africa is not Europe after all. It is much more significant to travel from continent to continent, rather than to travel from province to province, or from country to country.

A barbería on the opposite of the port has no difference from most of the barberías on the Spanish mainland either: right now inside the barbería where Enrique Iglesias’ dancing songs were playing, a barber with a big beard was sweeping away hair left on the chair, while swaying to the music, cheerfully. It is a mystery that the Spaniards can keep excited all the time, perchance because of lovely sunshine, perchance because of the blue sea–it is a happy nation after all.

As the wind chimes on the glass door of the shop rang merrily, the door opened, a cool sea wind blew in, and a tall young man walked inside. His long dark-brown hair was tied into a pony tail, a caramel jacket rounded his slim waist, and a pair of goggles hung on his well-built chest.

“¡Buenos días! ¿Tiene una reserva?” As soon as the barber straightened up to see the young man’s face, his smile turned into a surprised look, “Dios mío, did I just trim Señor’s hair? How come it grows back even longer than before within a blink of an eye?”

“Don’t worry, Señor Peluquero, I’m still here. I just paid at the counter.” Another young man touched the back of the barber from behind, and put both of his hands in front of his face to form a picture frame, “after trimming my hair, I’m as cool as a breeze!” The short-haired young man winked his light green eyes while smiling brightly, and incredibly, some stars fell out of the frame.

“What a coincidence, Antonio. I just arrived from the port, and spotted you inside this barbershop.”

“Isn’t it Pedro? I’ve never expected you here!”

The confused barber turned his head to look at the picture-framing, short-haired young man, and then turned back to see the long-haired young man who just walked into the shop. He found that both of their faces and bodies exactly the same, even the colours of their hair, eyes, and skin the same too, as if God conveniently used the same colours from his colour palette to paint these two , except that He dotted a beauty spot under the right eye of the long-haired one, in order to distinguish from his twin. “You two are twins!” the barber exclaimed.

“We are not twins!” the two young men protested in one voice.

“So…you two are brothers who look much alike?”

“We are just neighbours!” two men, one voice again.

“Are you really just neighbours? I can tell from your appearances that you two are related by blood!” The barber stretched out his strong arms to bring both of the young men close together, and shouted to a girl at the counter. “Isabel, don’t you think they look much alike? Mira, mira,” the barber turned Pedro’s face towards Isabel, “when his pony tail couldn’t be seen from the front, even their hair styles are los mismos!”

“Even so,” Isabel shrugged her thin shoulders, “los amigos have told you they ain’t bros, so they ain’t bros, are you thinking of helping people recover their long-lost familia?”

“I see, it’s a matter of hair style.” Pedro mused, “por favor, Señor Peluquero, could you make a new hair style for me?”

Half an hour later, Pedro’s long dark-brown hair was trimmed thin and made more stylish, which reached down his prominent collarbones.

“Listo, as cool as a breeze!” Imitating Antonio, the barber put his hands to form a picture frame in front of Pedro, but this time there were no fallen stars, for Pedro did not wink, but instead smiled mildly to his mirrored self. “In this way, you two don’t look the same any more!” the barber admired his masterpiece happily, “Señor looks so handsome, bueno, guapo!”

“Gracias, but I’m a navigator, it’s better for me to tie my hair while sailing at sea. However, today I have a holiday, and Antonio is beside me, let me forget the pony tail for a while.” He brushed gracefully his long hair with his hand, satisfied.

After leaving the barbería, Pedro and Antonio walked leisurely in the direction of the old town. Pedro’s caramel jacket was again tied around his waist, and despite the hot African weather, he wore short black gloves. He and Antonio both wore short-sleeve shirts, and their opening collars revealed deep shapes of their chest cleavages.

“Pedro, why are you in Africa?” Antonio walked a step ahead of the quiet young man, turning around to look at the other with his bright green eyes.

“Me chame de Pedro, faz favor. In Portuguese, you should pronounce ‘Pedru’, instead of ‘Pedro’.” Pedro spoke in Portuguese–even though he had spoken fluent Spanish at the barber’s, he had got used to speak Portuguese to Antonio whenever they were alone.

“Todo bien, ‘Pedru’. You know although I can understand Portuguese, I don’t speak it well.” Antonio continued to communicate with Pedro in Spanish, while the other spoke Portuguese.

“Our ship is heading to a tall ship festival in Marseilles. When we crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, I thought of our past in Ceuta, so I stopped to visit here.”

“Our past in Ceuta? You mean yours and mine?”

Pedro nodded slightly.

Antonio began to feel anxious, deliberately avoiding Pedro’s gaze.

When they were approaching the gate of the old town, they saw a huge coat of arms of the city which looked very similar to the Portuguese national coat of arms: in the middle of the red shield are five blue mini shields, surrounded by seven golden tiny castles.

When they were about to cross the street, Pedro stopped short.

“In Spain, you don’t have to wait for traffic lights all the time…” Antonio wanted to push him, but he found the Portuguese was gazing on a sculpture in the middle of the round-about. It was the sculpture of Prince Henry the Navigator.

Pedro kept silent, but his emerald eyes spoke for him. In his eyes, there was a mixture of worship, nostalgia, and sorrow. Such a beautiful, bright young man was suddenly shrouded by sadness, just like the sun shadowed by dark clouds, and a cool breeze laden with salt.

“Disculpe, I suddenly remember I have some important thing to do, can I leave?” Antonio tried to escape, but was stopped at once by another.

“Don’t you go, you should be my tour guide.”

“Even though you wish so, there is not much worth tour guiding…”

Much against his will, Antonio led Pedro to a bastion east to the old town gate, which is one of the landmarks in Ceuta. An edge of the bastion extended gracefully into a moat circling the city, where deep blue seawater turned into emerald, and a big school of small fish attracted the attention of several migrant birds. Above the top of the bastion, a flag of blood and gold was flying proudly.

Antonio noticed that Pedro was becoming more and more moody. He felt so guilty that he wanted to climb up the bastion to tear down the flag, if he could.

At this moment, a pair of Asian twin girls went towards them.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?”

Antonio was not confident in his English, so he eyed Pedro for assistance.

“How can I help you, beautiful ladies?” Pedro replied in British English, and later, according to these girls’ request, took photos for them. Antonio chuckled quietly, because he knew that Pedro had kind of “yellow fever”, for he had a particular passion for Asians, which had been one of the secret reasons why he had ventured so far away to Asia during the Age of Discovery.

“May I ask if we could take photos together? We are all twins!”

“Pero nosotros no somos gemelos…” Antonio tried to deny without a second thought, but these Asian girls did not understand his Spanish.

“Certainly! Antonio, come here!” Apparently, Pedro was afraid of making the shy Asian girls embarrassed, so he did not deny he and Antonio being twins, and pulled the Spaniard to take photos together.

“Can we ask a question about history?” the girls asked carefully.

“Ask away, darlings.” Pedro winked, smiling.

“Doesn’t Ceuta belong to Spain? Why are there so many Portuguese emblems here then?”

“Umm, as for this question, it’s better to let Antonio explain, for he’s the local tour guide.”

Antonio felt stressed, for it would be a challenge for him to explain the complicate history related to both Spain and Portugal in his “broken” English. It was obvious that Pedro wanted to make fun of him. However, if he cast the task back to Pedro, when recalling the past, would Pedro become sad again? Antonio did not feel like seeing that sorrowful face, so he began to explain slowly in English:

“Ceuta was a part of Morocco long time ago. In the year of 1415, Prince Henry of Portugal conquered this military fortress…”

“Excuse me, who was Prince Henry?” the girls asked.

“He was a great navigator who started the Portuguese Age of Discovery. From then on, Portugal gradually discovered new sea routes. The new route to India discovered by Vasco da Gama was in fact the continuation of Prince Henry’s sea routes. In other words, if there were no Prince Henry, there would have been no Vasco da Gama, or even the Portuguese Empire. Perhaps Prince Henry is not as famous as da Gama worldwide, but for Portugal, he was the most important person.”

The twin girls began to admire this prince, “How brave are the navigators to discover the unknown world!”

“He is also a navigator.” Antonio pointed to Pedro, who was smiling in the shade of a tree. “Let me continue the history of Spain and Portugal. After the conquest, Portugal rebuilt Ceuta, so the city coat of arms contains Portuguese emblems. Between 1580 and 1640, Portugal was ruled by Spain. Many Spanish people migrated to Ceuta, so even after Portugal’s independence from Spain in 1640, Ceuta still sided with Spain. Finally in 1668, Portugal ceded Ceuta to Spain. Therefore, you can still see Spanish flags flying on the African continent today.”

After the twin girls had left, Antonio and Pedro found all museums closed at noon. As the sun was becoming hotter, they had no choice but to sit down at an ice cream parlour by the seaside.

It seemed that Pedro was exhausted by the hot weather, for even ice cream could not cheer him up. He kept silent and ate quietly without looking up at Antonio, which made Antonio unbearable. Finally, Antonio broke the ice:

“Pedro, I want to say that I am sorry, for I have taken up the place you had cherished.”

“Which place?” Pedro tucked his long hair behind his ear, and had another spoonful of ice cream.

“This place, Ceuta.”

Pedro fell silent again for a moment. Then, his head turned slightly towards Antonio, a pair of scorching eyes stared at the Spaniard fiercely behind long hair, and he said: “Now you know that you’re sorry, you know that…” he covered his mouth with a hand, as if trying hard to suffocate his moaning, “…you already know that Dom Henrique was the person I had most respected, most loved…and this place had been the first step where we began to explore the world…and yet, you…!”

“Pedro…”

“You were too strong, too powerful–so powerful that you swallow up everyone who were close to you…Aragon, Navarre, Granada…being your neighbour, you had no idea how hard I had tried to survive…and you still don’t know why I want to keep distance from you–you’ve never cared about others.”

“…lo siento.”

“…that’s why I set my knights guard against you on borders.” Pedro added.

Antonio did not know how to reply, and Pedro lost the interest of continuing their conversation, so these two kept silent while watching the blue Mediterranean Sea and eating ice cream. After a while, two identical cats approached them for food, and they gave the cats ice cream respectively. Later, the cats curled up to sleep under their legs. It was time for siesta. The two young men bent on the table and fell asleep too.

When Antonio woke up, he found himself alone, a caramel jacket covering his back.

“Señor, did you sleep well? Your brother has already paid the bill.” A waiter came over and smiled at him.

“When did he leave?”

“About half an hour ago. He went in the direction of the port, perhaps to board a ship.”

Hearing this, Antonio grabbed Pedro’s jacket at once, and ran towards the port.

There were countless vessels from all over the world at the port, but Antonio had some clue for finding out Pedro’s ship.

Sure enough, before long, he spotted a huge sail ship with three masts. Upon the white sails, there were red crosses of the Order of Christ.

“Disculpe, is Pedro on this ship?” Antonio stopped a sailor who was about to board.

“Which Pedro? We have many Pedros on the ship!”

“He has long hair, and a spot under his right eye.” Antonio panted from running.

“Let me think…” the sailor looked baffled.

“Alright, he looks very much like me!” Antonio finally confessed.

“Ah, I see!” the sailor turned around and shouted to the top cabins of the ship, “Captain, your little brother has come to see you off!”

“I’m not his brother,” Antonio said quickly, “and I just come to return his jacket.”

“Thank you for returning my jacket,” Pedro went down slowly from the ship. He wore a set of deep blue navy uniform, his long hair tied neatly behind. “By the way, I do recall that you had called me ‘mi hermano’ when you were a very little child, didn’t you?”

“It’s not true, I had only called you by your birth name…it’s you who had called me ‘meu irmão’.”

“I’d never done that.”

“Yes, you had.”

When the siren was blown, Antonio knew that Pedro’s ship, Sagres, was about to set out. He raised his hands high in the air and waved happily towards Pedro, who was standing on the deck, watching him whom was down below.

“¡Adiós, Lusitania!” Antonio smiled, brighter than the sun.

–Lusitania, isn’t this Pedro’s birth name? Suddenly, some long-lost memory flashed back to Pedro’s mind.

On a very quiet night, he was lying on a large bed sleeplessly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Lusitania?” a sweet voice of a boy called out.

“Sim?” he replied lazily.

Knowing the boy in bed was still awake, the boy outside opened the unlocked door, and went in.

“Can I sleep with you, Lusitania?” a pair of light green eyes was looking innocently at him.

He opened his arms to the boy, and smiled mildly, “claro, meu irmão.”

Long long time ago, Pedro had indeed called Antonio “my brother”, and only Antonio had called him by his birth name. Are they really not related by blood? They look so much alike, they had been so close, and nobody could understand them better than they understand each other. What made them separate from each other?

Looking at the young man waving on the quay who had the same face as his, Pedro suddenly had an urge to touch, to embrace, and to merge with him–his brother. Before the ship started moving, he dashed down to the quay, and jumped onto Antonio.

“Lusitania?”

Pedro held Antonio tightly in his arms. Back lighted, his bright green eyes had never seemed so profound before, as if trying to convey millions of words. However, Pedro chose not to say a single word, but to kiss directly on Antonio’s petal-soft lips.

Basking in orange light of the African sunset, the two brothers embraced and kissed each other for a long while, until eventually, Pedro broke the kiss and left silver saliva on his brother’s lips. Antonio looked at him, confused, intoxicated.

“If we’re not brothers, I think it’s fine to kiss you.” Pedro smiled mildly.

“Claro, we’re not brothers at all.” Antonio blushed, and kissed Pedro again.

#APH #hetalia #aph spain #aph portugal #iberian brothers #aph iberia #hws #portspa #spaport

16 notes · View notes

thisstableground · 3 years

Note

Hello! I wanna start drawing again and I'm really fond of your style, I was wondering, do you have any drawing tips? ❤️

okay sorry this took a couple days to reply to because i wanted to think about it, but i think my main advice is to divide up your artistic time into practice and art. this drawfee video on how to practice effectively explains it really well (this section is at around 13 minutes, i haven’t watched the rest of it yet bc it’s a long vid but i bet there’s other good advice in there too): practice is input, drawing is output. practice is learning new information about things you don't know how to do – you're not making a final piece.

practice is things like:

experimenting with different ways of holding the pen/pencil. holding a pen/pencil for drawing is different than how you'd hold it for writing – you want to hold it higher up, and use looser arm movements. different angles will give different effects (see here). holding a pen for a tablet is different to both a traditional pencil and a writing grip. if you have a tablet that picks up on palm contact, try getting a drawing glove so that you don't have to hold your hand at an unnatural angle. draw different lines and shapes and get used to the different effects you can make.

experimenting with different ways of moving your hand. a general rule to follow here is the bigger the shape, the more of your arm you should use to draw it. a lot of people draw primarily with just their fingers or wrists moving because they feel more control there, which is great for fine detail work but doesn't translate well to bigger sweeping shapes, and thats where you end up with wobbly lines or having to draw several scratchy lines instead of one smooth curve. if you want more confident lines you need to draw from the elbow, or the shoulder. it takes some getting used to but it's definitely worth it for keeping your drawings lively instead of stiff, and your wrist will also feel less strain.

learning to draw basic 3 dimensional shapes. boxes, cylinders, spheres. just draw a whole lot of them from different angles.

learning how to break down a complex form into basic shapes. a good way to do this is tracing – tracing has a bad rap as being stealing, but as long as you're not uploading a traced image and passing it off as your own it's a great way to train your eye to understand how forms work together, particularly for something complex like anatomy. draw over an image and break it down into basic shapes. then try to copy those shapes onto your own paper without tracing. do it over and over until you're better at it. (this method of redrawing is called iterative drawing, it's a great practice technique).

theres broader practice and then narrow. having a mix of both is good: quick sketching a whole figure some days, other days really focusing in on like “this is how a nose work”. go with what feels right in the moment.

and then the output, the actual drawing, is when all this practice pays off - these are your pieces that you work on to show people, or the things that you want to make, this is where you chase your creativity and passion. keeping them separate really helps to stop your art feeling like a chore and keeps you from overworking your full pieces (incorporating too much practice into your creative art); it also stops you stagnating or becoming frustrated with your lack of improvement (not practicing enough).

you don't have to be super strict with yourself about when to do which thing; you'll probably go through phases of doing a lot of practice, and then phases of doing a lot of drawing. if you're really struggling with one thing, that's often a sign that you need to do more of the other to balance things out.

other advice:

learn to be bad at art. this is good during practice with things like timed figure drawing or whatever where you just don't have time to make it good, but it's also good in drawing/creating: just letting yourself make “bad” or silly or quick things for the fun of it or to get an idea out. nothing has to be perfect and the earlier you learn to be bad at art the quicker you'll get good at art, and the more you'll enjoy it too

to expand on that, while tablet drawing is great, i've found that i improve a lot more rapidly when i do at least some of my practice a) on paper but also b) in pen or marker or paint, anything non-erasable. the ability to undo and erase infinitely in digital art is great for full pieces but doing your practices in pen means you're forced to be lot less precious and so you learn quicker how to be more decisive and confident with your lines because whatever you put there, you’re stuck with it.

if you're stuck, try something completely out of your comfort zone. use different materials, restrict yourself to a specific colour palette, ask for prompts, set a timer. sometimes there's just too much choice about what to do and it can be paralysing: giving yourself a totally arbitrary restriction can actually push you to be more creative and to get out of a rut (recommending more drawfee here, their random shapes challenge videos are a really good example of this)

you don't have to find your style. it'll find you. it's good to observe what you like about other people's art and try to consciously think about it, it can be really good to ty and mimic those elements yourself during your practice, but for your actual drawings you don't need to think about your style because as your ability improves it will come out naturally.

this applies mostly to traditional, but try to have your paper tilted slightly rather than flat on the desk – i prop my hardback sketchbooks up on a book. if you have your paper flat then you're more likely to get a little bit of a perspective distortion from top to bottom, especially if you're working from a reference, because you're looking at the paper from a different angle than you're looking at the reference so it can look fine when you're drawing but then when you look at it head-on it's just a little off. it also makes it easier to not hunch up over it and get a backache.

FLIP THAT CANVAS. i don't know why this works but its a time-honoured artist technique for making sure that there's reasonable symmetry especially for drawing people: draw your picture out, then flip it. you'll be able to see a lot clearer where the proportions are off. make changes, flip it again, keep doing that. it's harder with traditional media to do this but if you have some tracing paper you can turn that over, or just take a photo of your work and flip that.

a little frustration can be good if it’s motivating you, but if it's so much that you're tearing up your drawings or wanting to quit, you either need to change up your approach for a while or you need to take a bit of a break. i know people say you have to draw every day and if that works for you then do that, but personally, i don’t: i go through phases of drawing all the time then not at all for a few weeks, and that works better for me than forcing myself to work on it every day and i often come back to it a lot better because i’ve given all the practice time to actually sink in. breaks are an important part of learning, whether its hour or a day or a week of just walking the fuck away from the sketchbook and doing something else.

stretch your arms and wrists often, especially if you're drawing for several hours. here's the routine i use, it’s only ten minutes but it makes a big difference. and if you've overdone it and your hand or wrist or back is hurting, don't push through it. drawing is surprisingly physical and i’ve fucked my hands up real bad several times not listening to a slight ache and having it turn into full on RSI

i hope some of that helps! there are a lot more specifics i could get into about a million different things but the overall gist of this is that you should be aware of all the different options you have and can dabble in, and try to find a balance of learning and creating that allows you to improve without sucking all the joy out of it.

#tinywhim

15 notes · View notes

kittinoir · 3 years

Text

Joyeux Noelle

Happy Holidays! Please enjoy this fic that I wrote last year for the holidays, a Miraculous holiday-themed reveal fic I wrote right after I got totally sucked into this show and fandom.

“Bye bye, little butterfly.”

Chat Noir tilted his head back, watching the purified akuma flit away from the Eiffel tower into the snowy night. As he did, he caught sight of a glittering bush speckled with red berries hanging overhead. Fairy lights had been strung through it and they twinkled warmly against the velvet sky.

“Mistletoe,” he heard Ladybug murmur. He turned to see her gazing up at the same thing he had noticed, wistfulness clouding those blue eyes.

“You know, mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it,” Chat Noir said, stepping closer. He took one of her hands in his own, wishing more than anything the miraculous wasn’t between them right now, that he really could feel the warmth of her hand in his own. A little christmas miracle.

“A kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.” Ladybug’s eyes flashed a warning, but she didn’t pull away or take off like she normally did. Hope flashed through him, stronger and more dangerous than he realized. Something in her eyes softened, and he froze as she leaned in. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist, enjoying the warmth of her body even in this freezing cold. Electricity seemed to sizzle across his skin as she pressed her lips against his cheek. Joy and disappointment crashed through him in equal parts.

She pulled back again as her earrings began to blink their final warning, and reluctantly he let her go. That age-old request was once again on the tip of his tongue, to beg her to stay, to break down this last wall between them, but for once, he stayed quiet. Maybe it was how sad she looked. Maybe it was because of the holidays. Maybe it was because he’d already received so much more than he could have hoped for tonight.

“Merry Christmas, m’lady,” he said instead, banishing the disappointment. She was more generous with him than he had any right to expect anyway.

“Merry Christmas, kitty,” she said. And then she was gone, swinging away into the night. Adrien watched her leave for a moment, wavering as he usually did, trying to imagine where she was going, picking out clues to who she was. He knew he shouldn’t, but he’d been doing it for so long now it was practically habit. Not that it mattered too much. There never seemed to be much of a pattern to where she went.

And tonight, not much of a point. Tonight, he had somewhere else to be.

* * * * *

Marinette dropped into her bedroom, breathless. She was short on time - again. And it was all the cats’ fault.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Marinette was already pulling out her stash of macaroons from where she hid them in her room as her kwami reappeared, dazed. She always felt a little like she was over-using Tikki, but her kwami had always assured her it was part of the process. So Marinette made sure she was always stocked up with Tikki’s favourites, determined to make it as easy as possible.

“I wish getting ready for the dance could be as easy as becoming Ladybug,” Marinette joked as she dropped down from the loft to her room.

“If there was no challenge it wouldn’t be any fun,” Tikki teased around a bite of macaroon. “Besides, there’s something satisfying in seeing your own hard work pay off.”

“Tell me about it,” Marinette agreed as she eyed her mannequin in the corner. She’d been waiting for this night for months. The school held a winter wonderland formal every year right before holiday break, and every year, Marinette had designed a new dress to wear. This year had been a close call; between her duties as class representative and Ladybug, she’d been left with little time to design and even less time to create. The fact was she’d spent most nights the past week finishing up her dress instead of sleeping, a fact that was becoming increasingly obvious as she made more and more mistakes. Thankfully none of them had revealed anything too…cataclysmic.

But it was all worth it, because it meant that tonight she got to wear her finest creation yet. Featuring a full skirt created out of what felt like miles or glittering black tulle, it was almost too formal for the dance. The bodice was corseted with a sweetheart neckline, and a light pink sash at her waist broke up the otherwise dark gown. She’d decided to forgo a bow in the back; the disney vibes in her initial sketches had been just too strong. She’d thought about a colour palette more suited to the season, but these were her colours, and there had always been something enchanting about the contrast between black and pink.

“Better hurry, Marinette,” Tikki urged, derailing her train of thought. “Not much time left before the dance starts.”

Marinette didn’t bother checking the time before hurrying to her mirror to start on her make up. Not only was Tikki right, Marinette was usually late. Might as well get to it. “Let me know if my phone chimes!”

And in the end, she ended up being right on time. She’d decided to go simple with her look, leaving her hair down and styling it in easy curls, touching up the make up she was already wearing. She preferred to let her dress do the talking.

She was ready within half an hour.

“Ready, Tikki?”

The kwami smiled and sailed happily into a little pocket Marinette had designed for her, hidden in the folds of the tulle. Really, more dresses should come with pockets.

Marinette’s phone chimed just as she finished descending the stairs. This was it. All those sleepless nights had been leading up to this.

Marinette stopped to kiss her parents good bye and assure them she would be home by ten thirty before she slipped out of the bakery.

There, waiting at the curb, was Alya’s dad’s car. Nino and Alya were going to the dance together, but rather than leave her, her friend had suggested the three of them go together. Nino had tried to loop Adrien into their group, but Mr. Agreste had struck again: Adrien had a photoshoot for his dads’ new line and was expected to come straight home for a Chinese lesson directly after.

“Hey girl,” Alya exclaimed, fingering the tulle as Marinette slid into the car. “This dress is amazing! Your best one yet!”

“Off the hook, Marinette,” Nino agreed, giving her a thumbs up. Marinette couldn’t help a smile; she doubted Nino knew much about her design, but she really appreciated the support.

“Thank you,” Marinette giggled, but she couldn’t help the slight twinge of disappointment. If it really was her best work, the most important person was going to miss it.

She looked up just in time to see Alya elbow Nino in the ribs, knocking the air out of him with a whoosh. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, her Ladybug senses tingling.

“We have a surprise for you,” Alya admitted, her eyes darting between her and Nino. “But it’s a surprise, so you’ll have to wait til we get to the dance.”

Marinette’s palms instantly felt clammy. “Surprise? You know I don’t handle surprises well. What if I trip and fall? What if I trip and fall onto the buffet table? What if I trip and rip down the decorations?”

“Not even you’re that clumsy, Marinette,” Nino interjected. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“He’s right,” Alya said as they pulled up to the hall. “Trust me.”

“Of course I am,” Nino said, stepping out of the car. “I’m always right.”

“I think always is a bit of a stretch,” Alya said as Nino helped her out of the car. “Remember when you thought Sabrina could be Ladybug?”

Marinette tripped over the hem of her dress as she stepped out of the car at the mention of her alter-ego. She may be getting her stammering under control around Adrien, but her secret coming up in conversation never failed to turn her into a gibbering puddle of pathetic excuses. Marinette felt a hand go under her arm, steadying her just as her lack of balance threatened to send her careening into the pavement.

“Careful, girl,” Alya said, helping her friend straighten up. She was beginning to look like maybe Marinette’s fears about her clumsiness hadn’t been totally unfounded.

“Thanks,” Marinette said as the three headed toward the hall. She didn’t miss the conspiratorial grin her friend and Nino shared and she felt her stomach clench. Whatever this surprise was, she hoped it didn’t include a spotlight. Or a speech. Or - god forbid - dancing.

“Amazing!” Alya exclaimed as the threesome stepped into the hall. Whoever had decorated had outdone themselves: soft white fairy lights were wound around the pillars in the room, giving the room a gentle low. Green boughs were draped off everything, and at the far end of the room stood a giant twinkling christmas tree.

“It’s beautiful,” Marinette said as she looked around the room, drinking in the warmth. She just wished it didn’t remind her of where she’d been an hour ago, and who she’d been with. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if her kitty had someone to spend tonight with. A bigger part of her she didn’t care to listen to wondered which answer she would prefer.

“It is,” she heard Nino murmur beside her. She glanced over to see him gazing at Alya with a goofy smile. Marinette’s heart squeezed and she couldn’t help a smile at the warm moment. Setting them up had been an accident, but she was happy she’d found someone who adored her.

Come on, Marinette!” Alya squealed, breaking the moment. “It’s time for that surprise.”

Marinette giggled nervously as she and Nino followed Alya deeper into the room. Their classmates swirled around them, throwing out greetings and compliments as they passed. Marinette let it wash over her, her earlier disappointment fading, enjoying the company of her friends, even paying Chloe a compliment on her dress until the crowd in front of them parted and suddenly she was standing in front of -

“Adrien?”

Marinette was so shocked her mind simply went blank at the sight of him not four feet away from her. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t coming tonight.

“Marinette?” The sound of her name dispelled a bit of her surprise. That was definitely his voice.

“I thought…you had a shootphoto? I mean a picture shoot? I mean - ” So much for having her stammering under control. Maybe it was the suit; it was Gabriel’s brand, black with sharp lines that had been tailored to fit him perfectly. It was too much. She needed the messy hair and casual clothes to just look him in the eye. This was overwhelming.

“I did.” Marinette reached for that confidence she’d been beginning to feel around him as he stared at her. He was looking as stunned as she felt. “Father relented at the last minute. I, uh, think Nathalie spoke to him for me.”

“Oh, well, that was lucky,” Marinette said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I would’ve really missed you. I mean ‘we’! ‘We all would have missed you. Because the formal is always, aha, so much fun…”

“I would have hated to miss it,” Adrien said, but something about the way he said it made Marinette think that maybe he wasn’t really talking about the dance. “Dance with me?”

She’d been so shocked by his sudden appearance she hadn’t realized Alya had had her directly to the edge of the dance floor. A slow song had started and their classmates had all taken to the floor, spinning as gently as the snowflakes outside.

“Uh, Adrien - ”

“I remember,” Adrien said, holding out his hand to her. “I promise to keep you steady.”

She should say no. Between the heels and not being able to even see her feet beyond her skirt, it was bound to be a disaster. She knew she could and Adrien wouldn’t be hurt or take the rejection personally. And yet -

She trusted him to lead her through it. And more than that, she was tired of saying no, of missing out on opportunities to be with him when she had to be Ladybug, of choking on her little crush, of watching him slip through her fingers time and time again.

“Ok,” she said, placing her hand in his own. She let him lead her to the dance floor and take the lead, his arms warm around her waist. She hoped he couldn’t feel her heart pounding, close as they were.

“You look really beautiful tonight, Marinette,” Adrien said as they slowly spun. “Not that you don’t always look beautiful, you do, I just mean - wow.” Marinette glanced up, surprised. Was he stammering?

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette said, “I…” She trailed off as she caught the glittering mistletoe directly over their heads. Noticing her gaze, Adrien looked up and saw the decoration as well. Marinette felt him stiffen in surprise before he looked back down at her. Oh god, now he was going to think she was some crazy stalked who’d lured him out here to steal a kiss! She had to diffuse the situation, now.

“You know,” Marinette said, reaching for the first thing that came to mind, “Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.”

“A kiss can be even deadlier if you…mean it.” Adrien’s smile dropped as he looked down at her, the colour draining from his face.

Marinette froze. It was like being struck by lightning. Adrien. Adrien. Was. Chat Noir? Before she could even begin processing it, hundreds of images burst through her memory, every little coincidence she had somehow missed. His feather allergy. How he was always late, like her. How she never saw both of them at the same time, not really.

“…m’lady?”

Adrien’s voice broke the spell. She looked up, searching his face - those eyes! - suddenly afraid of the disappointment she was sure she’d find there. That his lady, his miraculous Ladybug, was just Marinette.

But…it was just the opposite. Marinette felt ever fibre of her being tingle in response to the way he was looking at her then. Like she put the stars in the sky every night and called for the sun every morning. Like every dream he’d ever had was coming true. Slowly, she nodded.

He abruptly pulled her back to him and continued their slow dance as though nothing had happened. To anyone watching, it may have appeared to be a small blip in their conversation instead of the life-altering revelation it had been.

“Marinette.” The way Adrien breathed her name made her shiver.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispered. A thousand memories were crashing through her, lighting up as they fell into place.

She felt Adrien hesitate as they completed another rotation. “Are you disappointed?”

Marinette jerked back, and they stopped again as she peered up into his face. Worry and doubt coalesced there, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Disappointed?” Marinette shook her head in stunned disbelief. “How could I possibly be disappointed? Adrien, you’re…you’re everything to me. You’re my best friend, and the person I trust the most. You make being Ladybug so much easier than it is. Adrien, I love you.”

Marinette didn’t think he could be more surprised if Hawkmoth himself dropped in on them right then. “The other boy you like…is me? You love me?”

Marinette blushed but nodded, lacing her fingers through his. Those words she’d tried to say a dozen times and couldn’t seemed to come so easily to her now. Despite the secret she’d tried so hard to keep being from revealed, everything felt like it was finally falling into place. The warning bells she normally heard pealing had finally quieted.

Adrien reached up to cup her face face, so gently, as though he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. He started to lean toward her, but as much as she didn’t want to, Marinette placed a hand on his chest to stop him. He stopped, his face open and wondering.

“You’ve been…clear about how you feel about Ladybug, but I’m - I’m just Marinette, and…I need to know how you feel about me before anything else happens. Because I don’t know if…” Marinette trailed off, the words getting stuck in her throat. To her eternal embarrassment, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had wanted this for so long she was terrified to have it slip through her fingers again.

“Just Marinette?” Adrien shook his head, running a thumb along her cheekbone. “You’ve never been just Marinette to me. You’ve always been amazing as Ladybug, brave and smart, but knowing that it’s you… it just makes me love you more.”

Marinette couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of her. “I..I love you, Adrien.”

He smiled down at her, wiping away the lone tear that slid down her cheek. “I love you, too, Marinette.”

This time she didn’t stop him as he kissed her.

She’d been expecting an explosion; wasn’t that how it was always described? Fireworks…

It wasn’t. It was…stillness. Like the world was holding its breath, afraid to disrupt the moment. Like they were the only two people in the room, like they’d never come up for air. It was as though everything else had ceased to exist, except for her, and Adrien, and the beating of his heart beneath her palm. Time itself had stopped.

Finally, Adrien, pulled back, but only far enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breathing as ragged as she imagined her own was.

“That was…” He seemed at a loss for words as he trailed off, gazing into her eyes. For once, Marinette didn’t have that problem, and readily finished his sentence, the one word she could think to sum it all up.

“Miraculous."

#writing #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous #miraculous ladybug

14 notes · View notes

starwarsnonsense · 4 years

Text

Top 10 Most Anticipated Films of 2020

Now I’ve got my embarrassingly late ‘Best of 2019′ list out of the way, I can finally proceed to the list that’s probably more exciting - my most anticipated films of 2020!

This list excludes films that have already been screened at festivals (otherwise, stuff like Saint Maud would be here). It’s also somewhat analogous to groping about for a light switch in the dark - these lists very rarely accurately predict my ultimate favourites for the year, so it’s more of a fun speculative exercise. Hopefully this puts some intriguing-looking films on your radar for the year ahead!

1. Dune (dir. Denis Villeneuve)

Plot: The story of Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), a brilliant and gifted young man born into a great destiny beyond his understanding, who must travel to the most dangerous planet in the universe to ensure the future of his family and his people.

Why be excited? The reasons to be excited about Dune should be pretty self-evident - it’s directed by one of the greatest filmmakers working today (Villeneuve’s Incendies and Blade Runner 2049 are all-timers for me), and is based on one of the best science-fiction novels ever written. The cast - Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Charlotte Rampling, and more - is absolutely stacked with talent. There’s every reason to believe that this will be something special, and I couldn’t be more pleased that Villeneuve is the man responsible for filling that Star Wars-shaped hole in the December release schedule.

2. Annette (dir. Leos Carax)

Plot: A stand-up comedian (Adam Driver), and his opera singer wife (Marion Cotillard), have a two-year-old daughter with a surprising gift.

Why be excited? You may not have heard of him, but Leos Carax is one of the most exciting directors working - he only makes around one film a decade, but the films he does make tend to be very special. I’ve only seen one film of his - Lovers on the Bridge - but that was filled with such ecstatic romance and wondrous visuals that it made me tremendously excited for Annette. Annette is a top-to-bottom musical with songs by American duo Sparks (if you know them for anything, it will be ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us’), and said songs will be delivered by Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard. It goes without saying that both actors are extremely talented performers with great voices (see Driver in Marriage Story and Cotillard in Nine for evidence), and I’m looking forward to seeing how they demonstrate their talents here.

3. Last Night in Solo (dir. Edgar Wright)

Plot: A young girl (Thomasin McKenzie), passionate in fashion design, is mysteriously able to enter the 1960s where she encounters her idol, a dazzling wannabe singer (Anya Taylor-Joy). But 1960s London is not what it seems, and time seems to fall apart with shady consequences.

Why be excited? I’m not the biggest Edgar Wright fan, but I admire him greatly and the premise of Last Night in Soho is like cat-nip to me. Speaking to Empire, Wright explained the story as follows: “I’m taking a premise whereby you have a character who, in a sort of abstract way, gets to travel in time. And the reality of the decade is maybe not what she imagines. It has an element of ‘be careful what you wish for’.” I’m a sucker for a good, old-fashioned high concept, especially when said films play with genre and really challenge the viewer. The two female leads - Thomasin McKenzie (JoJo Rabbit, Leave No Trace) and Anya Taylor-Joy (The Witch, Emma) - are among the very best young actors working today, and the supporting cast features absolute legends such as Diana Rigg and Terence Stamp. Whether it’s successful or not, this film feels like a genuinely original prospect and I’m eager to see how it turns out.

4. The Green Knight (dir. David Lowery)

Plot: A fantasy re-telling of the medieval tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Why be excited? There has been a sad lack of films based on mythology in recent years - or, to be more accurate, there has been a sad lack of films that attempt to honour what the myths were actually trying to convey. The stunning trailer for Green Knight promises a film that genuinely engages with its source material, and is just as interested in the psychological truths of the tale as the spectacle of its fantastical scenarios. Dev Patel is an extremely talented actor coming off another great movie in The Personal History of David Copperfield, and the supporting cast (Alicia Vikander!) appear to be fully committed to their parts. I’m excited to see a true myth on the big screen again, and David Lowery (A Ghost Story, The Old Man & The Gun) can be trusted to give an old tale a new sense of vitality.

5. The French Dispatch (dir. Wes Anderson)

Plot: The staff of a European publication decides to publish a memorial edition highlighting the three best stories from the last decade: an artist sentenced to life imprisonment, student riots, and a kidnapping resolved by a chef.

Why be excited? It’s a Wes Anderson movie! Of course I’m excited! In all seriousness, the trailer was all I needed to get hyped about this. It’s clearly Anderson’s quintessential style, but it also shows flashes of some very bold and striking compositions (yes, I’m thinking of Chalamet on the back of that motorcycle) that you wouldn’t necessarily think of in relation to him. I’m intrigued by the prospect of there being stories nested within a story, which feels like the perfect choice for the structure of a film about a newspaper. The cast features all of Anderson’s old favourites (Swinton! Murray! McDormand!), as well as some exciting new additions (Timothée Chalamet, Elisabeth Moss, Christoph Waltz, among others) that feel so well-suited to his style it’s surprising they haven’t worked together before. Bring on all those immaculately composed shots and exquisite colour palettes.

6. Tenet (dir. Christopher Nolan)

Plot: Unknown. The project is described as an action epic revolving around international espionage.

Why be excited? I hate to sound repetitive, but ... it’s a Christopher Nolan movie. That alone is enough to be hyped about this. Details of the plot are vague for now, but the teaser suggests the sort of intelligent, high-concept film-making we’ve come to expect from Nolan. John David Washington - who impressed in BlacKkKlansman - is a great choice for the lead, and I also love that Tenet will feature Robert Pattinson and Elizabeth Debicki (among my favourite actors) in prominent roles. There’s not much else to say given how little we know about this, but suffice to say I’ll be there on day one!

7. Wonder Woman 1984 (dir. Patty Jenkins)

Plot: Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) comes into conflict with the Soviet Union during the Cold War in the 1980s and finds a formidable foe by the name of the Cheetah (Kristen Wiig).

Why be excited? The original Wonder Woman was an absolute delight, and I couldn’t be more pleased that Patty Jenkins is back to continue Diana’s story. The decision to pick up with Diana in the 1980s is most intriguing (and paves the way for all kinds of exciting choices when it comes to the music and the fashions), especially since it looks like the film is actually going to explore the implications of being an immortal being in a mortal world.

8. Raya and the Last Dragon (dir. Paul Briggs and Dean Wellins)

Plot: A lone warrior from the fantasy kingdom of Kumandra teams up with a crew of misfits in her quest to find the Last Dragon and bring light and unity back to their world.

Why be excited? The animation scene in 2020 looks kind of ... blah at the moment, with the notable exception of Raya and the Last Dragon. The setting was described by the film’s producer as "a reimagined Earth inhabited by an ancient civilization that venerated the mythical dragons for their power and their wisdom”, and that alone is enough to fire up my imagination. Off the back of Moana and the Frozen films (which I all unabashedly love), I trust Disney Animation to instil this with plenty of colour and verve.

9. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (dir. Charlie Kaufman)

Plot: An unexpected detour turns a couple’s road trip into a terrifying journey through their fragile psyches.

Why be excited? Directed by Charlie Kaufman (writer of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), I’m Thinking of Ending Things is based on a prize-winning novel. However, despite the pedigree the main reason I’m looking forward to this is Jessie Buckley. Buckley gave a star-making performance in Beast a few years ago, and has since proven herself an actor of immense talent and skill (see Wild Rose for proof of what a powerhouse she is). I’m excited to see her career continue to go from strength to strength, and I’m Thinking of Ending Things seems poised to be a great showcase for her.

10. The Last Duel (dir. Ridley Scott)

Plot: King Charles VI declares that Knight Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon) settle his dispute with his squire (Adam Driver) by challenging him to a duel.

Why be excited? Ridley Scott is a bit of a mixed bag for me, and has never come close to reaching the heights of Alien and Blade Runner with his recent work. Nonetheless, against my better judgement I can’t help but be excited by the prospect of a medieval epic with Scott at the helm. The acting talent attached to The Last Duel is top-notch, and I’m particularly fond of Jodie Comer (of Killing Eve fame) and Adam Driver (do you really need me to say more?). There’s a very real danger of the highly sensitive plot (the ‘dispute’ at the heart of the story concerns an accusation of rape, the truth of which is to be determined with a duel) being mishandled by Scott, but the involvement of screenwriter Nicole Holofcener gives me some hope. This could turn out to be a misfire, but my hope is that it will, at the very least, be interesting.

#dune #annette #last night in soho #green knight #the french dispatch #timothee chalamet #Adam driver #jessie buckley #the last duel #i'm thinking of ending things #raya and the last dragon #wonder woman 1984 #tenet #films #2020 in film #cinema

135 notes · View notes

kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

100 Days of Writing: Day Forty

I’m getting really lazy about this lol. Today’s entry: the answers to a few random questions that have spoken to me, from days I skipped.

Project courtesy of @the-wip-project. Tagging fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman @fontainebleau22.

This got VERY verbose, sorry....!

Day 34: Do you prefer to write fluff or angst?

Funny story. I once had a fic nominated in the Best Angst Category in a fandom fic awards event. The nomination was, of course, flattering, but also really confusing, because I didn’t think the fic was particularly angsty. It wasn’t super fluffy either. It...just was? It was a basic strangers-to-lovers modern AU somewhere in the 7k range, and the main ship was endgame. There was a period where half of the main ship was dating someone else, but that was mostly mentioned in passing during a time skip; most of the actual content was the endgame couple talking/flirting/pining, and, again, they did get together in the end.

The nomination made me reconsider what I think ‘fluff’ and ‘angst’ are and what my relationships are to the genres. I feel like a lot of my work is neither.

Some types of stories are obviously one or the other. MCD and/or illness is angst. Hurt/comfort is angst. Romantic stories where the characters don’t end up together are, generally, angst. Romantic stories where the characters DO end up together but only after considerable obstacles can be angst, also--which might have been the rationale behind nominating the above fic in ‘angst’ although, again, it was only 7k. It’s one thing to have a 300k+ story where the main characters pine for each other, wallow in their feelings, fight, feel jealousy, etc, and the finally kiss in the final chapter--I’ve done that, too. A shorter story is a different beast.

Fluff, to me, is a genre of stories without (significant) conflict. The point is you feel good reading them. Romantic stories with established couples, or first date stories, are fluff. Slice of life or ‘curtain’ fic is fluff. Holiday fic with a found family feel is fluff.

I’ve written some stories that clearly fall into one of these two genres, sometimes because the challenge I’m doing or request I’m fulfilling calls for it, and sometimes because I need a palette cleanser after writing the opposite type of fic.

Another place I’ve thought about genre is with Troped, but I don’t always feel confident in the stories I’ve written there, in terms of theme. The very, very first round had a Fluff theme but I wasn’t sure if my story was fluffy (I’m still not). It had a happy ending and the final scene was decidedly cute, but the characters came from angsty backgrounds, and some of the early scenes had, imo, a melancholy feel. Then one of the 2020 Madness rounds had an Angst theme. I tried to fit my entry into that genre by giving it a general feeling of helplessness and an ambiguous, dreary ending. I think it was angsty, but it wasn’t as... hardcore angsty? as some of the other entries. I also picked the theme “angst” for one of my Choice fics and that one was decidedly angsty, both in the specific-trope sense--it dealt with the aftermath of a major character death--and in the more general ‘mood’ sense. The main relationship wasn’t repaired at the end, and the ending was ambiguous.

I feel like for every fic I’ve written that’s decidedly fluffy or decidedly angsty, and I could give examples of both, I’ve written one or more that isn’t really either. Again, most of the time, unless I have a specific reason to think ‘time to write angst’ or ‘time to write fluff,’ I don’t go into an idea thinking it should be one or the other. I usually have a mood I want, but it might not be simple to categorize.

ALL that said... I think if I had to pick one, it would be angst. I don’t like truly unhappy endings, but I’ve done a decent number of ambiguous endings. It’s also easier for me to think of stories I’ve written that I think are fairly categorized as angst than stories that are clearly fluff. Third, I love writing about pining, and longing, and missing, and needing, and these are not ‘fluffy’ feelings. But most importantly, like I said, I think ‘fluff’ is a type of story that has minimal-to-zero conflict in it and I actually find those VERY hard to write. Maybe We Will is probably the fluffiest thing I’ve written (4k of a first date at a carnival) and my biggest challenge was figuring out: what are these people going to DO?

This isn’t an insult to fluff at all. Fluff writers have a real talent for creating a pleasant narrative, and I like reading outright fluff more than reading outright angst. But for me, there is a lot more flexibility outside of fluff, whether or not the resulting narrative is truly “angsty” or not. It might not have the primary goal of making you feel sad, but it probably doesn’t have the primary goal of making you feel happy either.

Day 37: Post your favorite line of dialogue that you’ve written recently.

Skimmed the Sleeping Beauty AU for this one. As soon as I’m asked to think about dialogue I like, I wonder if I’ve ever written good dialogue in my life! Lol. You think about it too much and it all sounds fake. Here’s an exchange I think is pretty good (perhaps just in comparison to a lot of the Really Rough Writing that surrounds it...).

"That sounded like it went pretty well," she says, as she balances awkwardly against the wall, pulling on her boots. "From what I could hear."

Bellamy shrugs. He's scanning the crowd, glancing over at her impatiently when she stumbles, trying to tie her laces without bothering to kneel. "Roma doesn't ask a lot of questions."

Clarke snorts. "Yes, she does. What you really mean is, she asks a lot of questions, then gets distracted whenever you turn on the charm."

"Yeah, sure. My well-known charm."

Clarke lets her foot fall heavily to the ground again, straightens up and pushes her hair back from her face. "If you weren't flirting and being charming, what were you doing?"

Bellamy hesitates, a light, embarrassed pink spreading across his cheeks, and Clarke rises up on her toes triumphantly, trying to lean into his space. "I should have gotten more ration points," he says, barely more than a grumble, and Clarke laughs and pulls her hat down over her head. Then she picks up the jacket, slips it on, and steps purposefully in front of him.

"How do I look?"

Day 38: What comes first, plot or characters?

Well, I write fanfiction, so I feel like this is a tricky question to define. My current fandom does have a lot of characters though, so it is possible to have a general idea of a plot but not know who to put in it. That’s happened to me on a few occasions I think, but generally speaking... I think the two come simultaneously?

When I’m writing for Troped, it’s easier to start with the plot because certain elements of the challenge suggest (or require) a plot but never the characters to go in it. So sometimes I do work from plot --> characters there. It’s usually pretty seamless in that the plot-idea usually comes with at least some idea of the characters, but sometimes there’s ambiguity--for example, deciding to include Bellamy in Mad Women when he wasn’t initially supposed to be in it, which ended up changing/defining the story quite a bit. Another example is Mountain Lion Mean, where I knew right away what the general plot would be but waffled a bit about precisely which characters would be in it and to what degree.

Other challenges often define the characters first and so then by definition that’s where I start. For example, a Bellarke challenge obviously requires you to write about Bellarke, but depending on the other rules, the plot may come entirely from each individual writer without any additional prompting.

If it’s a wholly original/spontaneous idea.... it either is necessarily about plot and characters at once (ex: AU where X character is in Y place or examination of Z ship in a modern AU) or it comes as nothing but Mood. That mood might have elements of plot and bits of character but the best way I can describe it is that I develop both at once. For example, my Southern Gothic AU came to me as certain elements--a character who does X, a relationship with Y feel, Z ship--and I’m working on combining all of those into a narrative. Or, as another example, I currently have a vague desire to write something with a Slow Summer Vibe but I have no idea what it will be about or who will be in it.

But again, it’s often “I want to write an angsty Jonty AU” or “hmm what about a Bravenlarke fic particularly about being in a poly relationship” or “this song makes me picture Bellarke at the beach; let’s write that”--ideas that essentially capture both character and plot at once.

I don’t know if I’m doing a good job of describing this but I write so much for challenges and events that I don’t have a huge pool of data for ‘spontaneous ideas’ to analyze.

Day 40: How do you start a new story?

I feel like I kind of already answered this in the last question. The very first step is an Idea, obviously. That would either come, in part, from the challenge or event I’m participating in or the request I’m filling, or it arrives by itself from some bit of inspiration: a song, a thought about a certain character or relationship, a mood I’m feeling and want to capture, etc.

But I feel like this question is about what happens with the idea.

Most (though not all) of the time, I start with a process of brainstorming and outlining. I’ve talked about this elsewhere, but I start by just sitting down with a notebook and writing down my thoughts, in a conversational style--basically like these posts. I write down any images I have, any plot points that have already come to me, etc. Everything I know. Then I brainstorm some more elements, filling in all the stuff I don’t know. Then I distill the plot down to discrete plot points: an outline of the whole fic in order. What needs to happen and in what order? The outline is generally organized by scene, though it’s flexible: sometimes scenes can be combined; sometimes they need to be split. Sometimes I need to re-evaluate the outline later, but most stories are simple enough that this initial outline works for the whole writing process.

I always write in order. I cannot write out of order. I need to immerse myself in the narrative and that means that events follow logically from each other. Also, sometimes what I come up with in the moment in scene 1 can change what I want to happen in scene 5--not so drastically that I’m re-writing the outline, but drastically enough that I would have to rewrite scene 5 if it were already done. That’s too complicated for me. I think there are probably advantages, in terms of amount of fun to be had, as well as in capturing ideas before they disappear from your brain, in writing scenes as the spirit moves you rather than in order, but I just can’t do it. That’s not how my mind works.

In order to start a fic, or even a new scene, I need to know HOW it starts and some idea of how I will describe that opening image/event/whatever. I often practice this for days before I actually write. For example, I’m going to write another Sleeping Beauty scene soon and I know it starts with Clarke hearing conversation behind her, so I’ve been practicing what that dialogue might be and how I might describe her listening while looking at something else. When I have a strong sense of the opening and a decent sense of the rest--what needs to happen to move along the plot--I just start writing. I do most of my writing as sprints.

Sometimes I write without an outline, and it’s basically the same process as the last paragraph, except I only have the opening and a vague sense of what’s to come. I don’t do that often anymore. But I started a couple outline-less fics last summer when I was just desperate to break my block and didn’t really feel like planning and stuff. I just wanted to get words on a page. Thus I have a couple WIPs that are about 1,200 words long and then just abruptly reach a cliff’s edge and stop!! I don’t know if I’ll outline or not before I return to them but right now I’m thinking not.

#100 days of writing #100daysofwriting #my 100 days of writing #wowow this was long #i got so verbose #i slept too much and now i'm wired lol #hope to actually write tomorrow but who even knows............

1 note · View note

chibimyumi · 4 years

Text

That Butler, Punchable

A good friend of mine and I are always saying that Yunbastian has this extra layer of punchability to him that other Sebastians don’t have.

We largely credit this AGGRAVATING intonation he uses sometimes. Often when Yunbastian speaks, it is in a tone of condescension, a mocking tone.

In this post, I would like to unpack how this punchability adds flavour to Kuromyu. Of course including gifs is the best I can do here, but as this post is about Yunbastian’s tone, I recommend listening back to the audio when you have time (*´▽｀*)ノ🎧

Incongruity in Tone and Spoken Words

In the post ‘That Actor, Influential II, I explained how Sebastian’s style of speaking while using formal vocabulary heightens the insolence in his mannerisms. It is very clear that the less respect Sebastian has for someone, the more condescendingly he behaves.

Yunbastian was sassy from the beginning, but it wasn’t until Noah’s Ark Circus where he started to REALLY get under your skin. At the very beginning of the manga, O!Ciel primarily fulfilled the role of the damsel in distress to Sebastian, to the point that the demon even boldly told his master that he “had no other talents than getting himself abducted”.

It was not until the Circus Arc where O!Ciel started to actually show the competence that would make him worthy of the title ‘the Queen’s Watchdog’. And accordingly, it probably wasn’t until the Circus Arc where Sebastian started to have heartfelt respect for his master.

Respect Level: Pretty Low

Before the start of the case Sebastian greets his master not unlike any other morning. He brings the boy his tea, still asking whether the flavour suits his palette. On surface level, this is of course formality. But the tone in which Yunbastian spoke the words almost made it sound like a rhetorical question. The simple phrase might as well have been: “How is the flavour, my Lord? Happy now? Or are you going to make me ‘open my hands’ again?”

Likewise, when he brings news that the Queen ordered O!Ciel to investigate the circus, Sebastian immediately comments on ‘circus viewing’, thereby equating his master’s mission to a recreational trip.

Unsurprisingly, until that point in the manga, we saw how all O!Ciel’s cases were solved by Sebastian, while O!Ciel’s involvement was usually limited to being a passive participant.

"It is the perfect weather for circus viewing,” is a neutral phrase. But once spoken in Yunbastian’s tone, the scene becomes one wherein the demon is making a passive-aggressive jab at his master’s passiveness. “Don’t worry, you just watch the show on your lazy behind, while I do the rest of the job for you.”

“For her ‘cute little boy’” has always been meant as Sebastian taunting his master. But in context of Yunbastian’s passive-aggression, it is likewise as though he is not just reminding his master that he’s a small child. Instead, it seems like Yunbastian was telling him that his cuteness might be what the Queen values in her Watchpuppy most.

Indeed. What qualities should the Queen have valued at that point in time?

In the Kuromyus, Sebas also functions as the narrator as some spectators would not be familiar with Kuroshitsuji at all. In the lines where in Yunbastian explains what ‘The Queen’s Watchdog’ is, he emphasises the impressiveness of this title.

Very notably, Yunbastian does not specify that it is his master who is ‘impressive’, but merely his name. Yet again, it was as though he was reminding the boy that he was merely born with his social status, but that otherwise he did not earn that reputation. “That is what it means to be a Phantomhive” too is but a neutral phrase, but within context, it might as well have been Yunbastian reminding O!Ciel that being a ‘Phantomhive in name alone is not enough’.

Respect Level: Still Pretty Low

Sebastian cannot lie, that much is clear. When he spoke the phrase “the current master [......] grow sick,” it had always been the truth, but in Yunbastian’s tone, it sounded like a cathartic outlet of the brutal truth.

Respect Level: Growing. Albeit Slowly

The incident with the snakes sadly does not take place in the musical (because of the producers’ terrible priorities), so we did not have the pleasure of seeing Sebas using the snakes to ‘teach his master a lesson’.

Without any chance to show off Sebas’ most notable rebellion against his master, Yunbastian had to find some way to tell the audience that he did not fully respect his master’s order.

Though subtle, Yunbastian settled with a long pause before saying ‘yes, my lord,” and finally disappearing into the darkness with a sceptical look on his face.

Respect Level: Not Too Bad

After the entire investigation wherein O!Ciel proved to Sebastian he knows what hard work is, he earned some of the demon’s heartfelt respect.

In the scene where O!Ciel proclaims to Doll who he is and what his title means, these words link back directly to the beginning of the musical wherein Yunbastian mocked the emptiness to his master’s name. In contrast however, Yunbastian does not show any rebellion or disagreement here.

Contrast this to Yunbastian’s reaction to O!Ciel’s similar proclamation in Lycoris 2015, before he had earned any of Sebas’ respect. ⇊

Respect Level: Decent

It does not mean that Yunbastian will stop his trademark taunting™ after the boy has earned himself a decent level of respect. But the things for which the demon taunts him for has changed.

Now the target of Yunbastian’s mocking is no longer his master’s incompetence, but more generally, his ‘foolishness’ as a human.

In the final stage of the musical, Yunbastian asked his master why he was showing such an ‘uncharacteristic’ level of kindness. O!Ciel gave a clinical answer, explaining the motivation behind his actions to be part of his job - the job he had just proven himself worthy of.

Presumably, Yunbastian had a good hunch as to what the true answer was, but because he had some respect for his Lord, he decided not to challenge the boy any further. Instead, he simply closed the topic off with a rhetoric “is that so, my Lord?”

Tango on the Campania

Seeing the continuation of one character across different stories is incredibly rare in stage media. This is part of the reason why Furukawa treasures the role of Sebastian so much. Kuroshitsuji gives him much more areas to explore than with any other production, after all.

In Tango on the Campania, Sebas is of course still Sebas, so the taunting continues. The taunting is picked up again from where it was left in the previous musical, Noah’s Ark Circus. Here Yunbastian only teases the boy for the misfortune of his own doing, rather than his incompetence.

When his mocking is met by his master’s scornful look, Yunbastian immediately stops, presumably for the respect he has for him.

This is in stark contrast with Yunbastian’s attitude earlier in the chronology. Before, Yunbastian might have stopped the taunting, but never without a provoking smirk or some other big attitude.

Reacting to Feedback

Likewise, there is also a steep contrast between the ways in which Yunbastian reacted to feedback. At the beginning of their contract, Yunbastian would obey, but in words only.

Later in the timeline, we see how the boy criticised his butler for his style. Sebastian replied: “I am very sorry, it was quite an emergency.” Furukawa could have opted for the same passive-aggressive tone he is known for, but he did not. Instead, he spoke the phrase genuinely.

Submission

Sebastian’s contract dictates his submission, but naturally he is not submissive. Seconds after the forming of their contract, Yunbastian said: “give me any order, my little Lord,” but it was clear as day that he considered himself far superiour. The tone in which he spoke was as though he added: “if you dare.”

Contrast this to the Campania Arc. Not only did Yunbastian say the same phrase in a much more genuine tone, it was even preceded by him reminding his master of their master-servant relationship.

Here we can see how Yunbastian has grown from the passive-aggressive rebel to a willing servant who has respect for his master.

In Conclusion

To me, Yunbastian’s punchability adds a layer to understanding how he is this all-powerful demon who has been stooping for humans for who knows how long. It makes it more explicit how his servant guise is simply that - a guise - for the untameable beast he is.

Yunbastian is more jaded and has a long history of rebellion behind him that is less visible in other media. However aggravating, Yunbastian would simply not be the same without his punchability.

#Furukawa Yuta #Yun #Yunbastian #Yunbastian I LOVE YOU #Tango on the Campania #Noah's Ark Circus #The lycoris that blazes the earth #That Butler - Punchable #Analysis #Comparative analysis #Kuromyu #Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #Musical

199 notes · View notes

ludomusoetme · 3 years

Text

Blog posts for Introduction to digital music

Blog Posts:

Version 1.0

Greetings everyone, and welcome to the blog relating my adventures in writing music!

It’s been about 5 years since I’ve last composed something… so this should be interesting.

Pretty much all of my previous work has been paired with something, generally moving image or game. This is the first time i’m writing something just for the point of listening, and especially in an electronic style. Almost everything I have written before has been for acoustic or live performance (and generally limited by my own performing prowess).

In order to get started I first needed to figure out what kind of style I wanted to write in. I had recently acquired a playstation VR and was very tempted to write a song in the style of “Beat Sabre”, which is a music game where you slide notes with lightsabers, very worthwhile if anyone has a VR device.

Whilst this was incredibly tempting as the music was generally electronic, fast paced and energetic, I decided to challenge myself and do something that ISN’T intended for a game/screen for once.

Because of this I decided to try writing in a style I have never done nor even attempted before: Chill/Lo-fi beat. The idea of a chill groove where the focus is not on melodic or emotional representation, but on the overall feel of the piece really gelled with me. I must admit I was inspired by the liturgy of Lo-fi Zelda beats I sometimes listen to for relaxation purposes…

Whilst I wasn’t so keen on making it super Lo-Fi as that would limit my mixing design, I still found this inspirational enough to get started and begin working on a project.

My goal for this was to have a chill groove that was laid back, yet still dance-like. I decided straight away I wasn’t going to go with a slow tempo. A lot of these songs have beats at around 90BPM but I found this too slow. I wanted something that was chill, yet made you want to bop your head along.

As such I settled on a 130BPM tempo, but was going to be focusing on a half-time groove the entire way through.

I started taking a look at different loops for in logic’s loop library to see if I could find anything I liked. (There are so many loops there… and so few that hit what I wanted!)

I decided to look at instead organising some plugins. Having never used plugins like this before, I did some research and received great acclaim for Spitfire audio’s LABS plugin. I grabbed it and enjoyed the soft and electric piano sounds.

Version 1.1

Trying to wrap my head around writing lo-fi beats with particularly hard for me, I ended up watching a lot of YouTube videos regarding drum patterns and mixing. For me drums are something I have never done before. Usually I have worked with either just a bass drum or percussion separately, sometimes timpani, but never electronic drum patterns usually. I find the idea of setting drums up very difficult.

After attempting to just cue up a Midi track and manually write in drum sounds, it really wasn’t working when I tried to write out the pattern and feel that I wanted.

Instead I decided to start with the melodic/harmonic inspiration and then work on drums later.

To start my melodic process I had a look through logic’s loop library again to find some inspiration and get a base sample I wanted to build upon. I eventually found a series of midi samples called “House baby piano” which fit the mood I was going for.

After laying these out, I decided to work on getting the drum pattern in, mixing could come later, for now I needed to feel how my song is supposed to ‘feel’.

I tried finding a drum pattern in the loop library, but couldn’t find anything I liked. Turns out its hard to find a “half-time, chill drum pattern”. Instead I decided to foray into writing drums using logic’s ultrabeat drum synthesiser. There was a preset called “lofi glitch” that had a decent starting palette, and from there I used the ultra beat to try and position notes until I found a pattern I liked. After this I still wanted some more manual control than what the Ultrabeat would offer me, so I penciled in just the bass and snare sounds. I would come back to adding more variety and interest once I had the core feel down.

Once I had figured out a style I liked using the Ultrabeats, I attempted to EQ the individual parts such as the bass drum, but couldn’t find a way to do so in the Ultrabeat under a single channel. Instead I decided to transcribe my beat into its component parts and then write them in midi all on seperate tracks so I could have more control over the specifics of the sound.

By transcribing the beat out, I also had more than 32 subdivisions to work with, and this allowed me to create more variety and interest from the ground up. It allows for less basic repetition and therefore more human feeling. I was also able to slightly shift certain notes if I wanted to.

I wanted to have a constant beat on the high hat when it was present, but found that it was filling up far too much of the higher register of my song. It also had a harsh sound because of this. What I did to counter this was apply a harsh rolloff on both the upper register and lower frequencies. This allowed me to get an accompaniment for my bass drum that still carries the tempo and fills some space in my drums along the time axis, without filling up too much across my overall frequency composition of the mix.

Whilst EQ-ing my snare, I actually found I much preferred the sound if I boosted it around the 3rd harmonic (around 1k), as it developed a nice crisp snap that was hidden before hand.

Once had I had the basis for my drum beat down. I began to play with my sample, the House baby piano. Whilst I liked the vibe, it could stand to be improved a bit, as such I added in/tweaked a lot of the sample to create some more interest. I found the velocity indications very useful for creating human sounding tracks. Sadly my electric piano broke when I moved house a month ago, so I had no midi controller to use to actually play in note velocity, as such I was setting most of them individually.

Version 1.2

After playing with the groove for a bit I decided to go back to basics, pull out the structure map, and see about making a song that captures the same trajectory as “Cataplexy” with a different style and feel. Instantly I encountered an issue… Up to this point, I don’t actually have a “melody” to work with. Currently my melodic interest is the baby house loop I used earlier, it carries a nice tune and fits the chill vibe I wanted. I don’t specifically want an overly catchy melody as that would detract from the overall vibe I am striving for. As such I am happy with something a bit more chordal, however there isn’t enough room to play between timbre and instruments if all the musical information in one instrument section.

Instead I decided to take the house baby sample and split it amongst a few different instruments to give me more room to alter the sound profile and create different “Melody” lines like Cataplexy. This way I can have a “spooky” sections and a “bells” section just by changing which instrument is playing.

I ended up doing a lot of transformation to find a sound I liked. Firstly I took the original instrument sound (Trem EP) and decided I liked it as the “Bells version”. For my “Reflective Version” I ended up using LABS (Electric piano). Finally my “Spooky Version” was taken by Alchemy’s (Mellow Chimes).

After sorting out the different melodic versions, it was time to create some interest. I wanted the “reflective version” to be at a higher pitch than the normal sample, but also wanted to add some interesting pan and echo effects. I ended up making 3 different LABS (Electric Piano) lines, each with a different echo effect, and was able to split the sample up between octaves and between these tracks to provide some interest.

I decided the top line would focus on the final notes in the sample that are leading notes back to the first beat of the next bar. This would have no tremolo or echo effects and instead focus on a re-centre-ing of the main sample.

The middle line was going to have a 1/4 note echo effect as well as heavy tremolo also set up to pulse on these echoes. As such the sound would move across the listeners perception of space as each note was played out. I only wanted the first, long notes, to fit in this category.

The bottom line contained the notes before the extended pause in the sample. So I could add some interest into this part, I added a 1/2 echo effect as well as the tremolo. This turned a simple sample into a varied and interested melodic/harmonic movement.

For a bass line, I isolated the bottom line of the “House Baby Piano” sample and moved into a (Smooth and Gentle) Retro synth. I doubled this line, panned hard L/R, and then set up a Phaser and stereo delay that were slightly out of synch to give some interesting musical effects. I didn’t want the bass to be overly prominent as then it would clash with the bass drum and the bottom of the piano line. I also transposed the notes down an octave to give it some free space.

Whilst EQing the bass I made sure it wasn’t clashing with the bass drum frequency too much. Thankfully the root note has a fundamental that sits at 100hz with the first fundamental at 200hz, so there was very little interaction negatively.

Version 1.3

After implementing feedback I finally managed to find a way to get the velocity of the kick drum to read properly. The ultra beat had a very tiny window between what it accepted as velocity for the softest and loudest note and it took a while to find which part of the software controlled that particular setting.

(Nice and easily laid out isn’t it….!?)

Version 1.4

Ahh bass drum, we meet again…

I found the bass drum to definitely require some humanising, as well as adding some harmonic distortion so it sounds less perfect and robotic. The Tube EQ plugin allowed me to add some low boost and drive to my drums in general with a bit more intensity to make them feel like they have well… drive, to the beat. It really added something that was missing in the overall mix by having this slightly bite-ier sound.

I also thought my B section was a bit simple. Whilst this was good I decided to add some extra flavour by playing with the Remix FX and adding some downsampling and subtle filter automation during the B section.

Version 1.5

Final release time! Did a last minute mix and decided to actually unplug my headphones and play it through my sound system (a Bose Soundbar). Whilst this is hardly the best mixing setup, it at least has a bass module attached so I could listen to the bass sounds appropriately. This also gives me a pretty good idea of what it would sound like when played on someone else’s sound system that isn’t a professional music/audiophile. What I found immediately was that when not on headphones, the bass drum sounds incredibly Boof-y and required some pretty hard readjustment of the TubeEQ. What sounds great on headphones blows out massively on a sub. As such I reduced the fundamental frequency in the EQ as well as dropping the low boost from above 5 to around 4. This ended up with still a good sound on headphones but MUCH better production sound when played through a sub.

1 note · View note

featherymalignancy · 5 years

Photo

CHAPTER THREE—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants.

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now.

Check out the masterlist for In Vino Veritas here!

Chapter Three: Bollinger

This time, Nesta didn’t bother lying to herself; she’d made the trip to Merchant because she wanted to see Cash.

It was perfectly innocent, though. She’d had a good day was all, and the truth was she didn’t have an over-abundance of friends in San Francisco. It would just be nice to see a familiar face. Besides, Tomás was out of town, which made this...easier than it might have ordinarily been.

The old bell chimed as she strode in, and Cash—who’d be pouring over what looked like an inventory report behind the bar—grinned when he saw her, eyes glittering. His hair was tied up in its usual style at its crown, but today he also wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that made him look more distinguished, if no less roguish. She found it vaguely irritating that he seemed to get more handsome every time she saw him.

“Let me guess,” he said in greeting. “Another dinner party.”

“No,” she said primly, setting her bag down and perching on a stool. “Today we’re celebrating.”

He grinned, teeth bright against his bronze skin.

“Are we?”

“We are,” she said. “I just won a huge case.”

“Congratulations. Unless—” he narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t defending a murderer, were you? Tell me he didn’t do it.”

“It was a civil case. Police brutality.”

Cash’s eyes softened.

“Not just a supermodel, then. A superhero, too.”

Nesta let the comment glance off of her, unsure the sort of damage it could do her if she let it sink in. Instead she pursed her lips.

“The officer broke my client’s back during a rough ride. A man who’d done so little wrong that he was never even charged for the supposed crime he was arrested for. He was only in police custody so long because he ended up in surgery.” She shook her head. “Fifteen hours on the table, and he’ll still never walk again. I pushed for criminal charges but couldn’t get the government to prosecute, so I took the case to civil court instead.”

She flashed a dour smile.

“I made sure there wasn’t a cent left on the table.”

Cash let out a low whistle.

“You sort of scare me, you know?”

Nesta shrugged, feeling oddly pleased by this observation.

“Normally I only take on criminal defense cases pro-bono, but this wasn’t one I was going to let slide.”

“You fascinate me,” Cash admitted, and Nesta huffed, not wanting to let that sink in, either.

Unfortunately, it was harder to ignore, and Nesta felt her cheeks warming.

“Maybe you just need to get out more.”

Cash laughed, eyes glittering from behind his frames.

“I’ve been out plenty, trust me.”

“Gross,” she sniped, and he laughed again.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just determined to make me a philanderer, aren’t you?”

She glanced at her watch to give herself something to do.

“You’ve yet to prove you aren’t one.”

“I can’t prove a lack of something. As for proving the opposite—“ he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“I don’t care for surprises,” she said, needing to change the subject.

It felt too much like they were flirting again, and it was a line she knew she couldn’t cross. Tomás would be beside himself if he ever found out.

“Alright,” Cash said, seeming to read her body language. “Enough witty banter. What kind of champagne do you like?”

“Bollinger,” she said. “If you have it.”

Cash grinned, the gold in his ears winking at her as he propped his chin on a fist.

“Are you sure you’re not a international super spy? That’s James Bond’s favorite, too.”

She couldn’t stifle a short laugh.

“How do you even know that?”

“When are you going to accept that when it comes to wine, there’s nothing I don’t know?”

“Never,” she said in challenge. “Because someday you’re going to make a mistake, and I vow to be there to roast you for it when you do.”

Cash raised his eyebrows, leaning in slightly.

“Then I’ll be sure to make said mistake in the shower.”

“Cash,” she warned, even as she fended off another laugh.

“You’re the one making threats!” He said, holding up his hands. “I can’t help it if you occasionally fall victim to your own hubris.”

“I—“ she began, still trying to avoid imagining what Cash looked like in the shower. His thick hair slicked back, skin glistening as water ran down the arched grooves of his Adonis belt towards his thick—

She cleared her throat.

“Fine. You win this round.”

“Part of me is afraid that you’re only giving ground as some sort of tactic, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.”

“Then I have you just where I want you,” she said, glad to have made her way back to more familiar terrority.

He laughed, going to get the champagne.

“You can have me wherever you want, Archeron,” he called, but before she could censure him for it, he’d disappeared into the back.

He came back carrying the Bollinger and two antique glasses that reminded her of Downton Abbey.

“Nice touch,” she said, gesturing to them.

Cash flashed a self-satisfied smirk.

“Thought you’d like these. Be gentle with them, these are Dev’s babies.”

He popped the bottle with a expert kiss of sound before pouring a measure for each of them and pushing one of the glasses to her.

He held his up to her.

“To the justice we can get.”

She raised hers in answer.

“Even if it isn’t the justice that’s deserved.”

Their glasses sang as they touched, and Nesta paused before taking a sip so she could watch him take his. As always, his reaction didn’t disappoint.

His brows drew together as he gave a hum of appreciation, biting his lip as he let the flavor linger. She hurriedly took a sip herself, not wanting to get caught admiring him. She could feel him studying her in return as she did.

She let her eyes flutter shut as the satiny bubbles caressed her tongue.

“What do you taste?”

Her eyes snapped open to find he was still watching her, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You’re the expert,” she said archly. “You tell me.”

He laughed.

“I already know the profile. I want to hear what you think.”

“Is this your way of putting me in my place after all my dress-downs?”

His grin faded, something she couldn’t quite name softening his hazel eyes.

“Never. I just—“ some of the tension melted from his shoulder as he gave a laugh that didn’t feel entirely genuine. “You obviously have a great palette. I just want to know what it is you like about this vintage in particular. Think of it as—market research, if you want.”

She considered this, and him, because taking another sip.

“I’d know it was champagnois even if I’d never had it before. It’s nuttier than a Prosecco or a Cava. Not as finely-edged. And the fruit in it is lightly spiced. Apple, definitely. And...pear, maybe? It reminds me of Christmas.”

She glanced up to find him looking at her.

“Well?” she said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “How did I do?”

“Spot on,” he said. “Though no surprises there. You would have made a great sommelier. A big part of the job is painting a picture that makes people fall in love with the wine. That description was painfully charming.”

“Don’t be obsequious,” she warned, even as she felt herself preening a little from the compliment.

“No idea what that means,” he said with a grin. “But I will do my best. How did things turn out with your sister and the Riesling?”

Nesta flashed a feline smirk, one she knew sent most men running for the hills.

“Better than I could have hoped,” she said “Graysen’s mother wouldn’t stop raving about it. Her new favorite, she said. Even better than the bottle Graysen got here for her birthday last year.”

Her smirk widened as he shook his head, laughing.

“You’re gonna put this poor kid in therapy.”

Nesta sniffed, taking another sip.

“He’s made Ellie cry more than once; he can burn in Hell for all I care. Besides, he couldn’t be less worthy of her if he were were a clown car mechanic. I’m going to throw a gala they day they break up for good.”

“If you could invent a perfect man for Elain, what would he be like?”

“Quiet,” Nesta said immediately, and when Cash laughed, she added, “I’m serious! Graysen is constantly talking, and she can never get a word in when they’re together. She has so many interesting things to say; she deserves a guy who wants nothing more than to listen to her all day.”

“A wallflower, roger that. What else?”

Nesta considered.

“Someone who does sweet things for her. Elain’s love language is acts of service. Men always want to buy her expensive things or spouts odes to her beauty. What she really wants is someone who will pack her a sack lunch or get her car washed. Also dark-haired. Grown men shouldn’t be blonde.”

Cash grinned, eyes slight.

“He sounds like a dreamboat. Maybe I should let you find me someone, too.”

Nesta was surprised at how much the comment ached. Not that she begrudged Cash meeting a woman; he certainly deserved it. She just—didn’t want to have to imagine it.

“I don’t know you well enough to make an accurate assessment,” she sniffed, trying not to seem too desperate as she poured herself more champagne.

Cash opened his arms in invitation.

“What would you like to know?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes as she considered.

“How do you feel about Beyoncé?”

Cash laughed.

“Is this a trick?”

“Answer the question, please.”

“The Lemonade album deserves a permanent exhibit at the Smithsonian as a pillar of human achievement.”

She nodded in approval.

“Good. At least I know I can trust you now.”

“That’s your litmus rest?” He laughed. “What were you going to say if I say no?”

“Leave and never come back, obviously,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Cash allowed. “What else?”

“Best Hogwarts house?”

“Alright, this one is too easy. Gryffindor.”

Nesta feigned a gag.

“That is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Daring and chivalrous! Those aren’t favorable traits to you?”

Nesta sniffed imperiously.

“Self-important and braggadocious, you mean. Besides, there’s nothing more dangerous that a person who’s convinced they’re right.”

He shook his head, chuckling.

“I feel so foolish. Everything about you screams Slytherin; I should have seen that question for the trap is was.”

“You know why I’ve been so successful in the courtroom?”

“Because you’re brilliant?”

She dismissed the compliment with a flick, even as it warmed her from the inside out.

“Because most of the time I’m going up against self-righteous prosecutors who’d rather waste their time beating their chest and waxing dramatically to the jury about my client’s character, instead of arguing the facts. It makes mounting a defense and tearing them to ribbons almost comically easy.”

“Like I said,” Cash offered, studying her with unchecked appreciation. “Fascinating.”

“I’ll change your mind before this is all over,” she said. “Mark my words.”

He leaned in slightly, enough that she could smell his clean scent again.

“Looking forward to it.”

They studied each other for a moment, and this time it was Cash who looked away, chuckling quietly to himself.

“What else?”

“Tell me secret. Something no one else knows about you.”

He considered this before turning over his forearms to show her his tattoos.

“I cried like a baby when I got these.”

She put her chin in her hand, if only to resist the urge to trace the slightly-ridged ribbons of ink. The designs were exquisitely tendered; whoever the artist was, they’d known what they were doing.

“Why?” she asked finally.

He laughed.

“Because they fucking hurt!”

She pursed her lips to indicate she wasn’t buying it, and he laughed again, glancing down at his forearms.

“Growing up, I just always felt like—I don’t know—a mongrel. When you’re a kid all you want to do is fit in, and being mixed, I never really felt like I did. I was—weirdly resentful I couldn’t just be like everyone else. I had my gran in my ear always spouting all this Māori stuff, but I just wanted to be Hawaiian. It wasn’t until she took me back to Waitomo when I was in high school that I got to see my culture for what it was—mine. I wanted to wear that pride on my skin.”

“So when you got the tattoos...”

He nodded.

“When I got the tattoos, I felt like I was reclaiming something I’d lost. Not just a sense of belonging, but a connection to my dad, who I never got to meet. It was—really emotional.”

“Did you take anyone with you?”

“My friend Ro. He was the only other Māori kid in my neighborhood growing up, so our families were always close.”

Cash laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“You should see him. His tats cover almost the whole left side of his damn body. If he hadn’t wanted to be a cop, I’m pretty sure he’d have gotten them on his face. We had to convince him to stop mid-neck.”

Cash glanced down at his own again, and Nesta couldn’t resist. Gingerly she reached out to follow the band on diamonds that studded along his wrist. She watched his skin pebble under her touch, and she pulled her hand back, knowing she was being unfair.

“That sounds—intimidating,” she said instead, trying to shift the conversation back.

Cash shrugged.

“He’s a sweet dude underneath all the gruffness, but yeah, he’s pretty terrifying with all that ink. I suppose it doesn’t help that he’s also 6’6 and looks like a jacked Anderson Cooper.”

She had to laugh.

“What does that even mean?”

“He started going grey when we were still in high school, and now he’s completely silver. It’s annoyingly dashing.“

Nesta snorted.

“The silver fox trope is such a double standard. If I was completely gray, no one would be gushing over it.”

Cash considered.

“I feel like you would be very striking as a silver vixen. Besides, I thought women dying their hair gray was a thing now?”

“How do you even know that?”

Cash laughed.

“My friend Rhys is a...great lover of females.He loves to opine on all the various trends.”

“Is that your polite way of saying he’s a playboy?”

Cash shrugged.

“His dad’s a billionaire. Az and I think he didn’t hear the word ‘no’ enough as a kid, and it’s made him restless and hedonistic. When he meets the right girl, though, it’s going to be game-set-match. I know it.”

“Thats...charming, I suppose.”

“You’d like him,” Cash said before pausing to laugh. “...I think. His cousin I think you’d definitely like. In fact, I’m having a friend from Paris in next week to host a tasting, and Mor will be there. You should come and meet her.”

Nesta’s heart leapt at the opportunity. She loved getting dressed and going out, and she was in rather desperate need of female friends. Still, there was Tomás to consider.

“I know that look,” Cash said. “So let me beat you to the punch: you can bring your boyfriend, and whoever else you want.”

“Elain would love it,” Nesta said, not wanting to admit that Tomás wouldn’t, especially when he saw Cash.

Still, she was reasonably confident she could convince him.

“Maybe I’ll tell her to bring Graysen, and your friend can embarrass him in front of everyone.”

Cash shook his head, giving a resigned chuckle.

“You are terrible.”

Nesta admired her long nails self-importantly.

“Please, you love it.”

She immediately regretted saying it. She wasn’t oblivious to the way Cash sometimes looked at her, and she didn’t want to blur any lines by being over-flirtatious. It wasn’t fair to him, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Tomás. And if he ever found out she’d been saying things like that to another guy behind his back, he’d never let her step foot in the Merchant again.

“I admit I’m morbidly curious about this guy,” Cash admitted. “Though I don’t want your sister to hate me for humiliating her boyfriend.”

“She’ll love you,” Nesta blurted, and realizing her misstep, forced herself to add, “maybe I’ll set you two up once she gives Graysen the boot.”

The idea made her stomach roil, especially when Cash smirked.

“First you accuse me of philandering, and now you want to set me up with your precious baby sitter? Pick a lane, Archeron.”

Nesta shrugged mechanically.

“At least I’d know she was being treated the way she deserves.”

Cash laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the bar.

“I don’t want to date your sister, Nes.”

Nesta ignored the way something in her black heart fluttered at the declaration, pursing her lips in feigned annoyance instead.

“Why not? Gorgeous and brilliant aren’t your type?”

Cash laughed.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that gorgeous and brilliant are every guy’s type.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Nesta had no idea why she was pushing the issue. She had less than zero desire to see Cash pursue Elain.

Cash only laughed again, an edge of exasperation souring the otherwise rich sound.

“Maybe I’m too afraid of you. I can only imagine what kind of cruel and unusual torture you’d cook up for me if things didn’t work out.”

“I’d flay and barbecue you at a low heat,” Nesta affirmed, and Cash grinned, his expression easing slightly.

“Exactly. Besides,” he paused, eyes glittering from behind his frames as he studied her again. “I wouldn’t want to risking messing up our friendship.”

She sniffed to disguise the way that touched her.

“Bold of you to assume we’re friends. We hardly know each other.”

“I know you better than you think, my thorny Slytherin queen. And we are friends, so don’t be like that.”

“Fine,” she said. “I admit I find your company enjoyable in an...annoying sort of way.”

“Please,” Cash said, grinning. “You love it.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, and he only grinned wider.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So about next weekend: are you in? I’m trying to firm up the guest list for my friend Hélion.”

Nesta felt her cheeks warming as she admitted, “I...have to discuss it with Tomás. He’s been out of town.”

Cash looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he said, “Well if you do decide to come, I have only one request—“

“That I don’t bring my friend Claire,” Nesta finished for him, and he laughed.

“She was in again last week and left me her number on a receipt. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Call her?” Nesta made herself suggest.

Cash frowned.

“I told you: not my type. Everything I said, she agreed with. I don’t want a woman who only ever tells me what she thinks I want to hear.”

Nesta couldn’t help herself.

“What do you want, then?”

Cash sank his teeth into his plush lower lip as if he were trying to suppress a smile before finally glancing at her.

“Someone who’s quick on the draw, and who isn’t afraid to dish it back. I don’t want a admirer; I want an equal. Besides,” he paused, biting his lip again. “I prefer brunettes.”

Nesta felt her heart beating in her throat as he studied her—her dark hair—before meeting her gaze again.

“If you know anyone like that, then...”

“I don’t,” Nesta said automatically before adding, “sorry.”

Cash continued watching her for a second before shrugging.

“Being single isn’t all bad.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Nesta admitted in a soft voice. “It’s been a while.”

Cash nodded, adjusting his frames as he looked down into his glass.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Six years.”

“That’s—a long time.”

“It is,” she agreed, wishing they could change the subject.

“No ring yet?”

Her eyes snapped up, he shook his head.

“Sorry. None of my business.”

She thought about biting out that no, it most certainly wasn’t, before realizing she didn’t want to sour things with an unduly harsh retort. Instead she shrugged.

“If he had his way, we’d be married already. I’m the one who’s insisted on waiting.”

“Why?”

She didn’t know why she answered. She knew she really shouldn’t, but somehow she couldn’t help herself. Cash was so easy to talk to, and the fact he didn’t know Tomás personally somehow made it feel like less of a violation of their privacy.

“We’ve been through a lot together, but I don’t know—I’m not ready. I guess I’m just waiting for a sign to show me that I am.”

“Didn’t have you down as a person who believed in signs,” Cash admitted.

Nesta fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her bare left hand.

“I’m not usually. But this is...too important not to be completely sure.”

Cash nodded but didn’t push for clarification, even though she could tell he wanted to.

“I’m happy, though,” Nesta added, needing to hear herself say it out loud. “He makes me very happy.”

Cash gave her a smile that was warm, even if it didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“You deserve that,” he said.

“How would you know?”

At this Cash’s smile widened to show pearly teeth.

“Because I’m an excellent judge of character. Besides, doesn’t everyone deserve that? Someone who makes them happy?”

“You do,” she blurted, and her cheeks caught fire as she realized she’d said it out loud.

She’d clearly drank more champagne than she’d thought; she was being embarrassingly loosed-lipped. Cash only smiled again, politely ignoring her insidious blush.

“You think?”

“Per your logic, everyone does,” she pointed out, drumming her nails on the oak bar top. When he dimmed a bit, she softened.

“But yes, I think you deserve it more than most.”

Cash gave a sheepish laugh as he looked down at the scuffed chukka boots her wore, and Nesta found herself adding, “She’s a lucky girl, Cash. The woman you end up with.”

It was truer than he even knew, and harder to bear than she’d expected. She had a sudden image of Cash in the arms of some unknown brunette beauty, and she felt her hands curling to fists.

She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it. She couldn’t figure out for the life of her why she hadn’t retreated to safer territory yet.

“I should get home,” she said, draining her glass. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”

He grinned.

“Thank you for an excuse to drink champagne on a Tuesday. And before you embarrass us both by trying to pay for this bottle, let me make a proposition instead.”

Nesta huffed and made to protest, but he cut her off.

“You know it’s nothing like that, so don’t get shirty with me. Just—come next Saturday. Tastings go much easier when there are people there who know what they’re looking for in a good wine, and I promised Leo I would give him something to work with. He’s French, so he gets fussy like that. And if you come, I can just put the bottle on his company’s tab. He works for one of the biggest distributors in France, so they won’t mind.”

“How long have you been cooking this scheme up?” She asked, and he grinned.

“Since about the word ‘celebrating’. Do we have a deal?”

He even extended a hand, and she bit her lip as she considered.

“I still have to talk it over with Tomás. But yes, I will—tentatively be there.”

She slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed gently as his smile returned.

“But you have to let me pay for the bottle if I don’t end up making it.”

Cash rolled his eyes.

“I’ll add it to your tab, I promise.”

“Fair enough,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll will let you know on Tuesday when Tomás gets back into town.”

Cash laughed, though the sound was a bit hollow.

“How? You don’t have my number.”

Nesta bit her lip, resisting the urge to shift on her feet. She and Tomás had given each other permission into their respective phones, and though it wasn’t a privilege he often exercised, she knew that if he did and saw Cash’s number, he’d freak. It would certainly be the end to their coming to the tasting.

“I’ll—call the shop.”

All the playfulness melted from Cash’s expression as his mouth tightened.

“Are you serious, Nes?”

“What does it matter?” She shot back, needing to go on the defensive. “You’re always here anyways.”

“That’s not what concerns me.”

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

He crossed his bruising arms across his chest, his tone brittle in a way that belied he usual ease.

“Oh really? Then look me in the eye and tell me that—as your friend—I have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Goodbye, Cassian,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”

She turned to the door and heard him swear under his breath.

“Nesta.“

She tightened her grip on the leather strap of her handbag, fighting the urge to turn back to him as she left the shop.

————————————————-

“What’s going on with you?” Hélion asked from where he lounged on the sofa, watching as Cash straightened the collar of a fresh button-down in the mirror.

They were currently in in the apartment above the shop, which Devlon had bought when such things were still possible to afford in North Beach. He’d agreed to let Cash stay there while he was in Hawaii, provided Cash didn’t change anything.

So far, he’d had the place painted, replaced the dated backsplash in the kitchen, and bought a new couch. A contractor was coming the following week to talk about taking down a wall in the living room and gutting the master bath.

“What do you mean?” Cash said, shrugging into the burgundy blazer slung over a nearby armchair.

Hélion eyed him critically for another moment.

“That’s the third time you’ve changed your shirt.”

Hélion continued his brazen assessment before snapping his fingers in realization.

“There’s someone coming you want to impress. Who is it? Investor for your mythical vineyard?”

Cash cleared his throat.

“No, I’m—still working on that.”

Hélion smirked.

“Ah, okay. Who is she, then?”

Cash fought not to tense. This wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to have right now. Despite the voicemail he’d gotten from Nesta on Thursday at the shop informing him she’d be coming with two guests, he was terrified to get his hopes up knowing it was still entirely possible she wouldn’t show.

“Who is who?”

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“The woman you’re clearly trying to impress. And if you don’t tell me, know that I can get it out of Mor when she arrives.”

Cash felt his palms beginning to sweat.

“It’s—not like that.”

Hélion smirked.

“No? Certainly seems like ‘that’ to me.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend isn’t a husband, Cashish,” Hélion said in a coo. “Besides, who could resist all this devilish charm?”

“Don’t make it weird,” Cash warned.

“Me?” Hélion said in mock offront. “Never! Come on, tell me more about her. She must be something if she’s caught your picky eye.”

“I’m not—“ Cash shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “You like her. You’re smitten, I can tell. What’s her name?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“What? Why not? I only want to know who I need to charm tonight. I will help make her yours.”

“For fuck’s sake, Leo,” Cash said, unsure whether to be exasperated or warmed by his friend’s meddling. “She’s bringing her boyfriend.”

Hélion bubbled his lips and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist.

“I hate him already. He’s a swine! A wretch! Totally unworthy of her!”

“I actually think he might be,” Cash admitted, and at his tone Hélion straightened, setting down his glass.

“What do you mean?”

Cash blew out a breath, trying to keep his anger in check as he remembered the look on Nesta’s face when he’d suggested she take his number. Normally he might have taken it as a sign that she was more interested in him than she let on, but it hadn’t been guilt he’d seen in her eyes; it’d been fear.

“Allô!” Hélion said, snapping his fingers to get Cash’s attention again. “What does that mean?”

“He’s totally controlling; demanding to know where she is all the time, I think going through her phone—I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Have you met him?”

“No,” Cash admitted. “But Dev has, and he said the same. He said that he’s very territorial over Nesta, and that I should keep my distance.”

“Nesta,” Hélion said with a satisfied smirk. “That’s very pretty.”

Cash flipped him a foul hand gesture before turning back to the mirror. He sighed before continuing.

“I don’t know what it is about her, but I can’t get her out of my head. And it would be bad enough knowing she’s got a boyfriend, but this prick—“ Cash shook his head. “I hate thinking of her in a bad relationship.”

“Maybe she just needs someone to show her there’s a better way,” Hélion said, and Cash huffed.

“Don’t tease me. This sucks enough as-is.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “No teasing. She clearly likes you, Cash, or else she wouldn’t be coming tonight.”

“She’s coming with him.”

“Then she must like you very much, to risk upsetting him just to see you.”

“I don’t want to put her in a bad spot.”

“But...?” Hélion prompted.

“But what?”

“But you do want her.”

Cash groaned, slumping down on the arm of the sofa.

“How could I not? She’s brilliant, and thoughtful, and witty. And God—so fucking gorgeous. She might honestly be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Hélion gave an amused snort.

“The man’s in love.”

“I’m not in love,” Cash protested before pausing. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s got her sod of a boyfriend, and I just got her to admit we’re friends; I can’t mess things up.”

“Okay,” Hélion said, holding up his hands in submission. “I won’t say anything to her.”

Cash let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thank you.”

“But say the word, and I will seduce the boyfriend and clear the path for you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cash muttered, and Hélion smirked.

“So far as I know, you’re the only man who’s been able to successfully to resist me, straight or otherwise.”

“Az,” Cash pointed out, turning to the mirror to pull his hair back.

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“He’s just being obstinate to spite me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re onto him.”

Hélion smirked and settled back into his seat.

“Can you imagine what he must look like naked?”

“As his friend, I try not to. Shall we?”

Hélion rose, straightening his immaculate heather gray slacks as he did. Cash shook his head.

“I don’t know how you’re wearing that sweater. It’s bloody August.”

Hélion straightened the collar of the turtleneck self-importantly.

“I’m French,” Hélion sniffed. “The laws of nature don’t apply to me.”

“That’s not at all how that works,” Cash pointed out. “But suit yourself.”

They descended the stairs to find the servers Cash had hired readying the place at Mor’s direction. The dining table had been set with the appropriate glasses, and flutes were arranged neatly on trays, waiting for champagne.

“Looks good,” Cash told her in greeting, coming over to kiss her cheek. “Almost good enough to justify flying you all the way out here from London.”

“Please,” Mor said, batting his cheek. “I flew myself out here, you ungrateful plant pot.” She spotted Hélion and shoved Cash back. “Leo, there you are! Come give me a kiss.”

Cash only barely managed to get out of the way as Hélion slid a hand around Mor’s waist and pulled her to him. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pecked him on the lips. Cash only barely managed to fend off a groan of disgust, and Mor only flashed him a quick hand gesture before her eyes settled back into Hélion, who still had a possessive hand pressed to her low back.

“How are you, mon cœur?” She purred, and Hélion gave her an appreciative up-down.

“Better, now you’re here. Oh, and Cash has a woman coming tonight.”

Cash snarled.

“What part of ‘be cool’ did you not understand?”

“You are?” Mor demanded, turning to punch him in the arm. “Who?”

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Cash said, feeling sour for having to repeat it out loud.

“So? Never seen a defender you couldn’t score on. What’s her name?”

“None of your—“

“Nesta.”

Cash screwed his eyes up, rubbing his temple.

“Leo, for fuck’s sake.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mor asked. “This is so exciting! I haven’t seen you interested in someone in—“ she paused to think. “I honestly can’t remember the last time.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend,” Cash said, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “And she’s my friend, so please don’t scare her off with your meddling.”

Mor toss her blonde waves off her shoulder.

“I don’t meddle.”

Cash pursed his lips.

“Tell that to Az’s love life.”

“That’s different. Without my help, poor lamb’s going to die alone.”

“I can think of someone I know who could make him feel properly loved up,” Hélion said with a smirk, and Cash rolled his eyes.

“Leave him alone, both of you. Leo, if you want someone to flirt with, go back to London and bother Rhys. He’ll be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Tempting,” Hélion admitted. “But he’ll flirt with anyone. Besides, there’s just something about that pouty mouth of Azriel’s that drives me crazy.”

“Let’s just get the champagne opened,” Cash said, not wanting to discuss his friends’ love lives anymore.

He gestured to the servers, and Hélion glanced at the label of the nearest bottle and frowned.

“Bollinger? I thought we’d agreed on Moët.”

Cash shrugged.

“I changed my mind.”

Hélion narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” Hélion sniffed. “But no more changes. I made these selections for a reason.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re afraid I’ll pull something something you don’t know, you mean.”

Hélion gave him a dirty look, and Cash laughed.

“I haven’t changed anything else,” he promised.

At this the door chimed, and Cash’s heart rate picked up. Forcing himself not the react in a way his friends might notice, he nodded towards the door.

“Go, minions. Be charming, make people feel welcome.” He grabbed Hélion by the elbow as he made to strut off.

“Not too friendly. This is an elegant tasting, not a live sex show.”

Helion grinned, teeth bright against his dark skin.

“Afraid I’ll meet your Nesta and win her away from you?”

“No, because you lay even one line on her and she’s probably punch your lights out. Get out of here.”

Hélion laughed, clapping Cash in the shoulder even as his eye snagged on fetching red head who was already smiling at him.

Cash found as people trickled in that he was too wound up to mingle, so he busied himself in the back instead, helping pull bottles and making sure the hor d’euorvers looked the way he wanted.

When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out to find a text from Hélion.

Come to the front.

Swearing under his breath, Cash did as a instructed to find Hélion waiting for him at the bar.

“What is it?”

Hélion shrugged.

“Nothing. But you need to be out here. It’s strange for your to lurk in the back like the hunchback in his tower. Have a glass of champagne and relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“That’s exactly what a tense person would say,” Hélion said. “Go talk to people.”

“I will as soon as—“

He broke off as he watched Hélion eyes skate over his shoulder and light up.

“What?” he demanded.

Helion smiled, eyes flicking back to Cash.

“I think your Nesta just walked in.”

Cash’s throat went dry. His first instinct was to whip around, and he forced himself to relax his posture.

“Merde, you weren’t joking,” Hélion said, gaze going over Cash’s shoulder. “She’s—fetching. Who’s the woman with her?”

“Her younger sister, I think.”

Hélion’s grin grew sleepy and slightly wicked, and Cash shook his head.

“Nesta will flay you alive.”

Hélion only shrugged before looking back and cocking his head slightly.

“C'est intéressant...” he mused, tapping his fingers against his lips in mock bemusement.

Cash grit his teeth.

“What’s interesting?”

Hélion’s smile was a feral thing, one that reminded Cash of a fox.

“I don’t see a gentleman with her,” Hélion finished.

Unable to resist any longer, Cash turned, his pulse drumming a lulling beat in his belly as he drank Nesta in.

She was dressed more provocatively then he’d ever seen her, and it made his mouth dry as he took her in. The slinky navy cocktail dress she wore hung off her body as if it had been made for her, highlighting her gorgeous small breasts and lean legs.

She’s yet to see him, but his heart sped up as the woman next to her, who was undoubtedly Elain, turned her head in his direction. Elain gave him a delightfully unsubtle up-down before she leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.

Something warm began to pool in Cash stomach as Nesta’s gaze snapped to him and she flushed.

He smiled in greeting, feeling pleased when she took Elain’s hand and started towards him.

“Go away,” Cash hissed to Hélion.

“But—“

“I’ll introduce you later. Buzz off.”

Hélion huffed before retreating, and Cash fought not to fidget or look too eager as Nesta approached. She dark hair fell in a satiny curtain down her back, and he imagined bunching it is hands as he kissed her neck, peeling off that dress so he could...

“Cash, hi.”

He flashed what he hoped as an easy smile. He wanted to kiss her cheek the way he might have with someone like Mor, but given everything, he doubted she’d appreciate it.

“Nesta,” he said, taking in the hint of her cool, sharp perfume as she came closer. “Glad you could make it.”

She smiled, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. He admired the elegant line of her wrist as she did, marveling that wrists could even be attractive. Hers were, though. They were gorgeous.

“Thank you for inviting us.”

At this she put a hand on her sister’s back.

“This is my sister, Elain. Ellie, this is my friend Cassian.”

Hearing her said the word “friend” had giddy delight crashing through him, and he forced himself to look at Elain instead.

She gave him a bright, easy smile, and he immediately liked her.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Cassian,” she said as they shook hands

“Cash, please. Honestly, I feel like I know you already. Nesta’s always bragging about you.”

Elain gave a sheepish laugh, doe brown eyes sparkling. Like her sister, Elain was beautiful, though hers was a much softer, more angelic thing: the fresh-faced Disney heroine to Nesta sultry villainess. She was of a curvier build as well, her figure voluptuous where Nesta’s was willowy.

If Az was here, he’d be drooling all over the floor. He was a sucker for big tits and brown eyes, even if he was too much of a gentleman to ever admit as much out loud.

“Well that’s embarrassing,” Elain said. “It’s not like I’m going to cure cancer or something.”

“No it’s not,” Nesta said. “You deserve it. You’re brilliant, El.”

Elain blushed before turning back to Cash.

“I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you, too.” Elain continued. “It’s good to put a name to the face.”

Cash grinned at Nesta, whose mouth has pinched into a pert frown.

“You been bragging about me too, Archeron?”

Nesta sniffed in a way Cash now knew signified she’d been caught off balance.

“Hardly. It’s Claire who can’t shut up about you.”

Elain gave a delicate laugh.

“It’s true,” she admitted. “I think she’s got a crush on you. She still hasn’t stopped talking about that red Nesta served at her dinner party. No one could; did Nes tell you?”

Cash laughed when Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Your sister isn’t in the habit of giving me compliments, unfortunately. But thank you, it’s nice to know you liked it.”

“I loved it,”Elain corrected. “You should come to the next party and listen to everyone fawn yourself.”

Cash glanced to Nesta to gauge her reaction, afraid to find her expression disapproving. She wore a sardonic smile instead.

“Before you say yes, please keep in mind that Claire will be there, and there won’t be a bar or a stock room to shield you from her attentions.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re not going to protect my virtue?”

Nesta pursed her lips to hide a smirk.

“As if there’s any left to protect.”

“I will,” Elain assured him, grinning as she touched his arm. “We’ve known Claire for ages, but she can get a little—predatory.”

“Yes, a scrawny thing like you, who knows what she might do if she caught you alone,” Nesta added dryly.

Cash laughed, and unable to resist showing off a little, he crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Archeron, I’m pretty sure I could bench your weight about five times over.”

“Doubtful,” Nesta shot back, eyes glittering with the challenge. “I weigh over 300 pounds.”

“What a coincidence; I bench 1,500.”

“Well congratulations on setting a world record, then. The last I heard, it was 1,075.”

Elain watched them, a grin on her face before she cut in, “Will you excuse me? I have to use the restroom.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nesta said immediately, and Elain gave her a hard look.

“Don’t need any help, thanks.” She brushed a friendly hand down Cash’s arm. “Nice to meet you again.”

With that she slipped away, leaving them alone.

“She’s cute,” Cash said when she’d gone.

Nesta smiled, eyes softening in a way they only ever did for her sisters.

“Isn’t she?”

They watched in silence as Elain sauntered off before Nesta turned to give him a thorough once-over.

“You look—nice.”

Cash laughed, basking under her careful attention as her eyes swept from his blazer to his caramel dress shoes.

“Do I not usually?”

She flushed before pursing her lips.

“The joggers certainly gave me pause.”

He grinned, wanting to see if he could make her blush again.

“I try to avoid them in mixed company. It’s unfair to the women present. Too distracting.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I managed them just fine.”

“Or so you claim. But you easily could have been checking me out when my back was turned.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Get over yourself. Your ass is not as cute as you clearly think it is.”

He flashed her a smirk, seeing the opportunity her comment presented and finding himself unable to resist.

“And how would you know?”

She flushed, and he felt his belly tighten, even as he grinned.

“Gotcha.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t offer a retort, and the realization she had been checking him left him feeling giddy. That was, until he remembered who’d she was supposed to have with her that evening.

“So,” he said. “No Tomás?”

He tried to keep the hopefulness from his tone, unsure if he’d succeeded as Nesta straightened.

“He’s running late. But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Cash felt his heart sink.

“I can’t say that I was,” he admitted quietly.

“Was what?” She said, tone flatter than before.

“Worried he’d be here.”

He hated the way her face pinched at that, the light in hey eyes dimming.

“Don’t start, Cash.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Her expression darkened.

“You didn’t have to. Please, promise me you’ll play nice. I think you two might really hit it off.”

Cash knew he would never like this prick and that the feeling was certain to be mutual, but afraid of pushing her away, he only smiled.

“I’m sure we will. You look lovely, by the way.”

Nesta looked down under the guise of smoothing her skirt, but he suspected it was really to hide another blush. God, she was killing him tonight. He wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “It’s new. I don’t usually like this color, but—“

“It suits you,” he said, and though he wanted to push the issue, he knew he’d gone as far as he’d dared.

Reaching behind her, he grabbed a forgotten tray of champagne, passing her a flute and taking one for himself.

They were silent a moment as they both took a sip, and Nesta nodded in approval.

“Bollinger,” she said. “Should I be flattered?”

He shrugged, sure she was seeing through him.

“I’d forgotten just how good it was until you reminded me. I figured I’d help remind everyone else, too.”

“Good,” she said with a small smile. “I would hate to think you were just trying to impress me again; you know I’m immune to your charm.”

“But you do admit I’m charming,” he said with a grin. “I’ll take it.”

She considered this, eyes sparkling.

“I admit nothing,” she sniffed, taking another sip.

He laughed.

“Of course you don’t. It’s fine, my ego can take it.”

She snorted.

“That I don’t doubt.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as Nesta turned to survey the room. Cash watched her in profile, admiring the narrow bridge of her nose and the dusting of freckles she’d clearly tried to conceal under her makeup. She was so lovely it made his chest ache.

Knowing he had to stop staring before she caught him, Cash turned to watch the crowd milling around instead.

“So no Graysen either, huh? I’m oddly disappointed.”

Nesta huffed.

“Elain was going to bring him, but they got in a tiff earlier and now they aren’t speaking.”

“Why don’t you seem happier about that?”

“Because this happens all the time. I can’t emotionally invest in the hope they’re actually break up; the disappointment is too bitter. Please just tell me there’s someone here to distract her. What about your friend Azriel? Vanity Fair seems to think he’s single.”

Cash laughed.

“Az is still in LA; he generally avoids mingling with strangers, even for my sake. And my friend Leo was practically foaming at the mouth when she walked in, but I don’t think he’s the kind of guy you want dating your baby sister. He’s something of a...philanderer.”

“I’m not concerned,” Nesta said. “One thing I will say for Elain: she’s not easily wooed. I think she honestly gets hit on so much it doesn’t phase her anymore. Besides, she’s annoyingly loyal to Graysen. Tell your friend to do his worst; he’s not going to win her over.”

“Why do I get the sense that pleases you?”

She flashed him her Disney Villainess smirk again, and he felt his skin prickle in arousal.

“Because it makes me feel like I raised her right; weird blind spot for Graysen aside, Elain knows who she is, and doesn’t let others try and tell her different—especially men.”

“What about Feyre?”

Nesta expression grew more devilish.

“Fey’s more like me. She didn’t need to be taught how to shred men to ribbons. It’s instinct for her, and she’s damn good at it.” Nesta pursed her lips. “I just wish she’d use it a bit more often.”

“She’ll get tired of kissing frogs eventually,” Cash offered. “You remember what it was like at 19.”

“I didn’t date until I was 19.”

Cash smiled.

“What was your first boyfriend like? I’m imagining either a geeky engineering major or an uptight Shakespeare nerd.”

“Neither,” she said, taking another sip of champagne. “He was a gorgeous Portuguese exchange student.”

He chuckled, even if some of his amusement had soured.

“You really have a type, don’t you?”

When she gave him a pointed look, he felt his heart sink.

“Tomás was your first boyfriend?”

It explained a lot. The blind loyalty, the way she seemed to capitulate to him when she didn’t for others.

“Some people are just lucky, I guess.”

“In what way?”

She shrugged.

“To get it right on the first try.”

It hurt—physically hurt—to hear her say it, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting something petulant. Instead he forced himself to shrug.

“I guess I wouldn’t know. My first girlfriend’s name was Becky, and she was the actual worst.”

“The fact she chose to go by Becky didn’t tip you off?”

“Looking back, it was the first of many warning signs.”

Nesta laughed, and Cash felt some of his bitterness fading. They were friends, he reminded himself. She’d claimed him as her friend, and as far as he was concerned, that made him the luckiest guy in the world. Her relationship with Tomás wasn’t any of his business. If she was happy, he’d be happy for her.

Over Nesta’s shoulder, Cash spotted Hélion trying to get his attention by tapping his watch.

“I should probably start getting people settled,” he said. “Do you want us to wait for Tomás?”

Nesta bit her lip. He knew she hated when people did her favors, and he suspected she was embarrassed that it was her boyfriend holding things up.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sure he’ll be here soo—“

The doorbell chimed, and Cash didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He fought down a searing stab of annoyance as Nesta raised her hand in greeting, choosing to glance at his own watch instead.

“Querida,” a smooth voice called. “There you are.”

Cash thought about trying to use the opportunity to make his escape, but he knew Nesta would see that for the cowardice it was and be annoyed he wasn’t playing nice like he’d promised.

Instead he turned, watching the well-dressed man making his way towards them. He was of rather average height and build, Cash noticed with satisfaction, though his face was classically handsome. Between the way his dark hair was pomaded away from his face and the fact he wore no socks in his Armani loafers—despite being dressed in slacks and a blazer—Cash thought he probably worked at a hedge fund.

Of course he did, the little prick.

The minute he was close enough, Tomás caught Nesta by the elbow and hugged her into him for a wanton kiss.

Cash bristled at seeing Nesta stiffen, clearly embarrassed. She should be, he thought sourly. It was like the beginning of a bad porno.

After a second Nesta pulled away, flushing a little as she dabbed at her lips. Tomás kept a proprietary hand on her low back.

“Where’s your phone?” Tomás said in Portuguese, ignoring Cash entirely. “I called you twice.”

“It’s on silent,” Nesta said. “I’m sorry.”

Tomás pursed his lips in unveiled irritation before finally seeming to take note they weren’t alone. Cash felt a grim satisfaction when Tomás had to tilt his chin up to meet Cash’s eye.

“Tomás, this is Cassian. He owns the shop.”

Not friends anymore, Cash noted with disappointment. Acquaintances, if best. The fact she wasn’t willing to admit to any degree of familiarity in front of Tomás was monstrously telling, and it made him hate the asshole even more.

Tomás tossed a casual glance in Cash’s direction, and though his smile was placid, his gaze was cold.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shifting Nesta in his arms so he could extend a hand.

Cash could tell she was uncomfortable that he hadn’t released her, and he fought the urge to break Tomás’s fingers as they shook hands.

“I suppose I have you to thank for all the exquisite wine I’ve been drinking lately,” Tomás said, smiling down at Nesta before letting his eyes drift back to Cash.

Cash shrugged. If Nesta wanted or needed to downplay their interaction for the sake of her relationship then he’d oblige her.

“I guess. Though Nesta’s got great taste on her own. She doesn’t need my help.”

“She doesn’t need anyone’s help. Right, querida?”

Nesta’s laugh was tinny and hollow as she finally extricated herself from Tomas’s grip until the pretense of looking around.

“I’m going to go find Elain,” she said, leaning over to peck Tomás again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tomás said, and Cash wanted to punch him for the tone he used, as if he were granting her permission. “Come right back.”

Nesta nodded her agreement and headed off, and though Cash expected Tomás to follow, he stayed, flashing a much cooler look as he took Nesta’s abandoned glass from the bar.

He raised it, and when Cash raised his, Tomás said in Portuguese, his tone light as if he were making an actual toast, “I don’t like you.”

Fucking coward.

Cash only flashed a grim smile, clinking his glass to Tomás’s and replying in English, “I don’t really give a shit.”

Tomás’s oily, self-satisfied smirk curled into a sneer, and Cash found himself bracing his feet a little farther apart on the floor. He guessed they were really doing this, then.

“Stay away from Nesta,” Tomás spit out. “She’s none of your concern.”

“And she’s not your property,” Cash shot back. “So why don’t you try treating her with a little respect?”

“Fuck you.”

Cash let out a bitter laugh.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“Stay out of our business, bugre.”

Cash took a step in Tomás’s direction, teeth bared.

“What did you just call me?”

It was a slur Cash hadn’t heard since he’d left Brazil, but it wasn’t one he could ever forget. It had gotten him into more than one fight growing up, and even now, it still made some part of him burn.

Tomás had the good sense to take a step back, even as he bared his own teeth.

“Stay away from Nesta,” he said again. “Or I will make you very sorry.”

Cash snarled.

“First you insult me, and now you’re threatening me? Tread lightly, caralho. You don’t want to fuck with me.”

“What’s going on?”

Both men looked up to see Nesta approaching, brows drawn.

“We’re leaving,” Tomás said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Leave? You just got here.”

Nesta spared Cash the briefest glance as Tomás tried to pull her along behind him.

“I have a headache,” Tomás said curtly. “Get your things.”

“I have Elain with me—“

“Give her your keys; she can bring your car home.”

People had begun looking now, and Nesta tugged her hand from Tomás’s, flushing.

“You’re embarrassing me,” she said quietly.

“I have a headache,” he said more forcefully. “Are you expecting me sit here and suffer?”

“No, but—“

“Good, then let’s go.”

Unable to stand by any longer, Cash intervened.

“Nesta—“

“Stay out of this,” Tomás snarled. He turned to Nesta. “Let’s go. Now, please.”

Nesta looked rather helplessly towards Elain, who was trying to make her way over to them.

“I need to—“ she gestured to her sister, and Tomás mouth tightened.

“Do what you need to and let’s go. I’ll be waiting in the car. Two minutes, querida.”

With a final sour look he stormed off, slamming the door as he left.

“Prick,” Cash muttered, and Nesta whirled on him.

He expected her to snap at him, but instead she pursed her lips, looking down at her feet for a moment before glancing back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said tightly, and he realized what he’d been interpreting as annoyance was actually her attempting not to cry. “I have to go.”

“No,” Cash said, touching her chin gently to win her gaze back from the floor. “You don’t.”

She brushed him off immediately.

“Yes, I do. Have a nice evening, and please make sure my sister gets home safe.”

“Nesta—“

By now Elain has arrived beside them, and Nesta pulled out her keys and stuffed them into her sister’s hand.

“Don’t drive if you feel like you’ve had to much to drink. I can come get the car tomorrow if need be.”

“I’ll come with you,” Elain offered, but Nesta was already shaking her head.

“No, you stay. Tomás just isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to take him home.”

“For fuck’s said, Nes. You don’t have to do this!”

Nesta flashed Cash a searing look.

“Please don’t make this worse. Ellie, I’ll see you back at the house. Have a good time.”

She brushed a hurried kiss to Elain’s cheek, and before Cash could protest again, she was striding for the door.

“I’m sorry,” he called, and she only raised a hand in salutation before disappearing.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said from his side. Her voice was quiet but bitter. “It’s always like this. I’m going to try and smooth things over. He’s—less harsh when I’m there.”

Cash could hear his heart beating in his ears, every instinct roaring at him to go to the parking lot and beat Tomás bloody. Nesta might hate him for it, but at least then he’d know she’d be safe.

“Is she going to be alright with him?” He asked Elain, and she pursed her lips.

She knew what he was asking, and she nodded.

“I’ll make sure she is.”

“Will you call me?” He asked, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring. “And let me know everything’s—okay?”

She nodded, handing her his phone so he could enter his number. When he handed it back, she gave her another soft smile, this one edged in a sadness and regret and broke his heart.

“It really was nice meeting you, Cassian. I hope I—see you again sometime. ”

She patted his arm before she too was leaving.

He swore until his breath when they’d both gone, furious and terrified in equal measure. Furious at Tomás for the slur, and for dragging Nesta out like a rag doll, and terrified that despite Elain’s reassurance, something bad might happen to her because of him.

More selfishly than that, he was terrified that he’d never see her again. She’d been lying to Tomás about coming to the Merchant before he even knew Cash existed. Now he’d be watching her even more closely. The thought made him sick, as did his powerlessness to help her.

“What the hell was that?”

Cash turned to find Mor behind him, brows drawn. Hélion, he noted gratefully, had corralled the other attendees and was beginning a speech about the history of the Bollinger and it’s flavor profile.

“Her boyfriend is an abusive prick,” Cash grit out. “And I just lost my cool.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?”

“And make things worse? I’m sure sure she hates me enough already.”

“Are you worried about her? Maybe you should call Ro, have him send over some unis for a wellness check?”

“I thought about it, but her sister said she’d call me. If I don’t hear from her in the next fifteen minutes, I will.”

His and Nesta’s friendship, he feared, was already destroyed. The least he could do now was make sure she’s alright.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mor breathed, lacing her fingers through his and resting her head on his shoulder. “I can tell you really like her. If it helps, she likes you, too. That’s why her boyfriend hated you so much.”

“It doesn’t. And I don’t think it matters, anyway. I doubt she’ll be back after that.”

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out.

Hi, it’s Elain Archeron. I just got to Nesta’s, and Tomás is gone already. Guess his “headache” worse than we thought.

Cash let out a breath.

I’m glad. Please tell her—

He paused. Tell her what? That despite the fact he hardly knew her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her? That hearing her laugh was like hearing the voice of God, and seeing her with Tomás had been like a knife to the gut?

He backspaced before trying again.

Thanks for letting me know. xx

Elain’s response came at once.

Thank you for caring about her. She deserves that. ❤️

Cash blew out a breath as he read it, something tightening in his chest.

“How can I help?” Mor asked.

Cash straightened his blazer, forcing a broad smile as Hélion introduced him and he waved.

“Scout the talent,” he said, scanning the bevy of beautiful, eligible women who were now smiling in his direction. “I need someone to make me forget, at least for tonight.”

“Forget what? Her, or the fight?”

Cash sighed.

“All of it.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

TAGLIST: @bookofmaas @katexrenee @overgrown-bat @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @mightymorphingayagenda @abillionlittlepieces @illyrianbeauty @wesupremeginger @marnz @toallthefandomsivelovedbefore @empress-ofbloodshed @actuallyacotartrash @tswaney17 @keshavomit @songlyricsincludingthewordfjord @run-as-fast-as-you-caan @donnarosemary @my-fan-side @kingdomofbrokenhearts @dayanna-hatter @verifiefangirl @mariamuses @blxckbeak @goldbooksblack @skychild29 @marry28sstuff @starlightheir @light-in-the-shadows72 @rhysanoodle @pilesofriles @awesomethreedragons @a-novel-blog @thevodkaaunt @booksapphic @my-fan-side @toallthefandomsivelovedbefore @run-as-fast-as-you-caan @donnarosemary @actuallyacotartrash @queenofillea1 @queen-of-wings-and-fire @willsrune

#nessian #nessian modern au #nesta x cassian #nessian angst #nessian smut #in vino veritas #featherywrites

320 notes · View notes