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#well. first of all. this is so. bittersweet
#like screaming and crying and throwing up on the floor etc
#second of all. maybe i'm looking too much into this but.
#it's interesting to see that there's blood splatters on tenzo's face /and/ his mask
#if i recall correctly. the mask covers his happuri as well
#the implication that tenzo lost his mask during battle. put it back on presumably /still/ in battle. continued killing
#idk. just hurts
#like something something anbu work forces him to feel more comfortable wearing a mask and conforming to a nameless org and set of ideals#and forgoing individuality
#or like. something something maybe he feels worse that his face got 'stained' because it's basically a reminder that 'cat' and 'tenzo'
#are one and the same and not two distinct entities no matter how much he wants to separate his identity and his anbu lifestyle
#and the fact that the happuri is blank and doesn't have a konoha leaf on it.... he doesn't feel connected to the community even as he kills
#for it...
#i feel like it's kind of obvious that it's significant that the comic shows tenzo taking off his mask as he shows his weariness/depression
#regarding anbu work and then how he thinks about kakashi as a jonin sensei. like representing himself as tenzo the individual rather than#'cat' a faceless tool of konoha in the shadows
#i also feel like it's kind of noteworthy that the perspective(? is that what it's called for images?) zooms in on tenzo's face
#first panel is mostly black and tenzo's body is off-center(?). like his face is centered but his body's not. and that leaves more room for
#the black background. but the second panel fills it up with the kakashi thought bubble and tenzo's body comes into the center to fill up
#the bottom half. and then the third panel makes tenzo himself fill up more space. there's less 'darkness' now
#not sure how to say it other than. his sole saving grace in anbu at the moment is preserving his self and bond with kakashi ig
#i also like how the black background isn't pure black. there's a tinge of red(? idk it could also be orange? but i'm taking it as red)
#like one hand. maybe a reference to the whole blood thing. a reflection of how he feels surrounded by that reminder of murder instead
#of just it being select patches on his skin
#on the other hand (and this might be looking too deep 😔) maybe how allusion to the sharingan. how even though he left root
#anbu still feels very similar to it that he feels reminded of how he was watched by danzo?
#sorry for rambling. i am in an analysing mood today
#but i'm also not that great at analysing visual art lmao
nooo no sorries! this is really useful and EXTREMELY flattering to receive such detailed thoughts, i feel like im back in a School Crit Circle or something, which is really fun and helpful. Critique like this rlly helps me understand what people are bringing to my art when I make it and how it's getting interpreted, which as somebody who wants to tell understandable stories via images, is useful to me beyond what words can describe!
like—there's no "right" or "wrong" when it comes to interpreting art, there is my intention, but my intention isn't necessarily what comes out (like how kishimoto somehow accidentally wrote two teenagers who he meant for us to perceive as straight, in the pains and throes of love for each other. like he wrote that, whether or not he intended to. i dont even actually ship s/n bc it doesn't have The One Ingredient for me, but its...also something thats hard to ignore about the text)
and similarly, since theres no way to objectively read a text, when you read it you're putting it in your own context, finishing the painting yourself with whatever colors you've got in your palette to use
that said! I can answer for my intentions in some of these
The blood and the mask: Practically, you're 100% right! Mask needs to be off to get at the happuri. That he's got blood on both his mask, and his happuri, means that at some point in the battle, he lost his mask and then put it on.
In terms of art, I did this because the juxaposition contrast between the blood and the small amount of joy he's taking in thinking about a scarecrow, felt really important, and I didn't want to lose that with the removal of the mask.
I also put the blood splatter in the same place, coming in from Tenzō's left, and splattering upward across his forehead area. Practically, this would mean that he was in the same position by a spatter of blood twice, but symbolically this implies that he is or feels like the same with or without the mask—like u talk about them being the same entity.
I didn't really do that intentionally though—like I didn't think about it. I just kinda was like "yea that feels right. anyway moving on."
No leaf on the happuri: I AGREE WITH YOU ABT THE SYMBOLISM...he doesnt feel connected to konoha in a Real way until he's co-captaining, I think. He needs to be allowed to LIVE in Konoha to be a part of it... That said, if I'm not drawing Captain Yamato Post-Sunlight-Exposure I straight up forget that he had the leaf at all–I know it's supposed to be a Danzō thing, but I keep thinking it's an anbu thing. Honestly, since I agree with the symbolism, whether or not I forget or make an intentional choice not to depict it really doesn't matter I suppose
The Zoom In: Kind of the same as the last! i felt in my heart that we had to zoom in...I didn't think about it in terms of ''lessening darkness'' although now that I've read you write that I like THAT reading much more—esp since so much of yamato's themes in canon seem to be about sunlight and darkness...there's an interesting reading of darkness lessening (because he takes up more space) without light gaining any footing (he's still, as always, situated in the dark) about like, the little things that one can do to manage their depression or a dark situation, even when they still aren't able to be fully FREE of it quite yet (if ever).
I think, when I was thinking abt it, I was thinking about making Tenzō seem very small and alone in the first panel, and then even after thinking about Kakashi, he's not quite so small in the panel, even though he still remains alone. This being said, the darkness reading is much stronger than the loneliness reading, even though they go hand in hand, I much prefer your interpretation.
the red in the black: This is interesting!!!! I like your interpretations a lot...in terms of materials this is only black india ink, so there's no red actually in it, but in the photo I can see what you mean—the ink I'm using is shiny because the "matte" ink is twice the price of it and I'm a cheapskate, and it inevitably creates shines of color when scanned or photographed.
Obviously though, the lack of intention or the material contrast doesn't mean you're wrong—I saw the colorful patches in the image and decided it was fine enough to post anyway, they're a piece of the art as it exists digitally! Open for critique and interpretation. I like the idea that the darkness is connected to the blood very much especially, because it is for Tenzō, isn't it?
anyway, ty v much for your analysis, i was incredibly flattered to receive it, and i think you're actually super good at it, in my opinion!
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Ok I'd love to see 15 for those writing prompts thing :3 (trembling hands) love u have fun!
HELLOOOOOOOO HI I'm sorry I'm late with this one! Also it's uhhhhh too long. It was supposed to be short-- and started that way-- but then a bunch of other words just came along for the ride and wouldn't take no for an answer x)
I'll put it under the cut ok! Thank you for the ask ^_^ you spoil me with this one! Guarantee it won't be what you expect :D I love you 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
The Pearl attracts odd visitors, when all is said and done. Owlish adults sprawl at tables and the bar, nursing a drink with one hand and their neighbour’s rump with the other. Not a skerrick of interest in the main attraction. Rhodri wonders why they even bothered coming.
Even as they get up in twos and threes and sway off down the corridors, they don’t seem excited about what awaits them.
She’ll make up for it, though. When this job’s out of the way, her own reward is somewhere back there, too, longing for appreciative eyes to feast and feast and feast.
The excitement’s almost got her laughing. She forces stillness in her quivering hands and scans the room. The skellums Sergeant Kylon asked her to disband are easily spotted, huddled together by the fireplace. They spit and snarl over the tops of their beer mugs, occasionally follow up with something more physical. When she strides over and issues their marching orders, the fun really starts.
A flung fist from the leader narrowly misses Rhodri’s jaw, and the man is trapped in an ice block for his trouble. That’s enough for the others to point and scream and leave their goodies (and their captain) behind as they bolt for the door.
With the room’s gaze returning to drinks and cleavage, the Warden falls back into obscurity.
The handsome, well-dressed proprietor who welcomed her appears at her side.
“I appreciate the help, Grey Warden,” Sanga smiles warmly. “Tell Kylon I owe him one.”
Rhodri blinks. “Owe him one what?”
For a moment, this person’s face is caught in a frenzy of blinking until it smooths out again. “Oh, just a favour, you know?”
She nods. The Denerim dialect is practically its own language. A couple rise from their table and saunter away down the hall, and the enthusiasm rekindles with vigour.
“I’m so excited to be here, you know, Madam Sanga,” she gushes, tapping her thighs. “I’ve been looking forward to it since Kylon gave me the job.”
Sanga’s eyes widen. “Oh-ho! I didn’t think this would be your cup of tea!”
“Oh, it definitely is,” Rhodri nods fervently. “Now, which way to the lobsters?”
“Mmm.” She breathes a sultry laugh. “Got none of them, honey, but I can definitely find you a nip.”
“Well, no crabs,” Rhodri says resolutely. “I’ve had enough of them.”
Sanga squints at her. “You got crabs?”
“At my estate in Tevinter I probably do, but I haven’t got any with me right now.”
She opens her mouth, closes it, then lays a hand on Rhodri’s shoulder. “Where do you think you are, honey?”
“The Pearl.”
“No, no. What kind of establishment do you think The Pearl is?”
Rhodri frowns. “An aquarium, of course. Though I must say, this is the strangest– gracious me, are you well?”
The proprietor’s face is in her hands. Low, wheezy sobs make her shoulders heave and shake with the gusto of a paid funeral attendant, and her knees slew violently from the effort.
“Oh, Madam Sanga!” Rhodri quickly puts a hand on the woman’s shoulder, half in apology and half to keep her off the floor. “Oh, I was unkind. I’m sorry, it– it must be a cultural difference– it’s really very nice here… lovely, friendly atmosphere–”
“‘Pearl’ is a euphemism, love,” Sanga creaks through her fingers. She straightens up and moves her hands off her– smiling?-- face. “Look around you.”
The bouncer by the door raises an eyebrow at Rhodri as he straightens the heavy velvet drapes on the nearby window. At the bar, a human dons a whisperthin linen shirt and a lascivious smirk. He eyes her like food and hooks a finger in his collar, dragging it back to show off the pale, freckled flesh underneath.
“My stars,” she breathes. “I think this might be a brothel.”
Sanga gives a triumphant laugh. “Now we’re on the same page. Well then, is there anything– or anyone– I can get you?”
Rhodri’s coin pouch suddenly weighs double what it did moments ago, and the encroaching blush burns her cheeks like a fresh slap.
Her request for a price list is stifled by a shout from the corner to her left. Five, six drunken louts against one very sober, very exquisitely bejewelled someone. Rhodri excuses herself, face searing, and jogs over, staff and blush at the ready.
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Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??
Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:
I am in Cardiff
For a concert I am attending solo
Doors open at 5
4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'
Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy
Find McDonald's
McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce
Directly across the street
Is an Italian restaurant
It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit
Go over
Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)
"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)
Inside restaurant is Deserted
Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine
Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component
Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard
Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen
Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers
I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between
Am finally brought food
It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist
It is all delicious
Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing
Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish
She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up
I am 27 and only nominally female
I am not remotely lost
She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food
I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food
'do you want to pay for the food?'
'.... Not if I don't have to?'
'good'
I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel
I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)
I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends
The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food
'yeah it was great!'
Everyone laughs a bit
I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off
I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once
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