#they have a few disagreements on how to treat cattle

[bigsnaff]

This is super disjointed, but I have a lot of thoughts about charr and their horns! Sometimes on how charr horns are regarded in their culture, as tools, fashion, weapons, and how all of that varies from charr to charr and legion to legion. So here's a very disjointed rant and collection of headcanons I have about charr horns!

The different varieties of horns there are (that are, at least, shown in-game) brings a few ideas to mind for me.

Clearly, most horns there are in-game are true horns, being that outside of the horn is actually more or less a keratin sheath for a bone core (aka the "typical" kind of horns you'll see on ruminant animals, cattle, sheep, goats, etc. etc.) They don't shed like antlers do and they grow continuously through the lifetime of an animal.

Then there are antlers. These shed yearly, grow back yearly. These are entirely composed of bone as opposed to true horns, which again, only have the bone core.

Antlers seem to be far less common among charr than actual horns. And who knows whether that the charr that do have antlers will even shed them or not? I don't think I've seen anything in the game that suggests that they do, but it's an interesting idea: charr with antler horns shedding every winter and then growing them back the next spring, larger, stronger, more impressive than the last. It's not something I personally headcanon, but again, is an interesting thought.

Charr with true horns growing theirs throughout their lifetime. An old, grizzled charr bearing the most impressive, gnarled and spiraled and scarred, massive set you've ever seen. Being able to tell how old a charr is by how large or long their horns are.

But I've also thought about the idea that, after death, charr horns are often sawed off (or broken off if the situation is time sensitive) and given to the deceased's warband or their cub(s), though the former is much more common. Often the horn will may be turned into some kind of tool or accessory; the hilt of a blade, an honored drinking horn. Something useful. A piece of your 'bandmate still there, helping you, protecting you. Whereas keeping a loved one's horn as a simple piece of memorabilia to mount on a wall is generally frowned down upon, suggesting that you didn't really respect the charr that the horn belonged to.

This would only done if the deceased is cremated; if a burial is requested in advance of death then charr will be typically be buried with their horns in tact. I believe that charr typically cremate their dead*, so this would be a rare occurrence.

I've also thought about horns being sawed or broken off while the charr is still alive, as something of an extreme punishment among the legions. Perhaps the only alternative to death within the Bane; live with the symbol of your wrong for your lifetime or die at the hands of another by fighting in the Bane.

And to be fair, the former would still be a bloody, bloody mess too. Dehorning is an extremely painful thing. Charr experiencing a battle wound of this nature would have to be treated quickly, because it can be fatal.

I really, really wish horns were mentioned more in charr culture, because they can do and mean so many things! Charr actually using them as an effective weapon in battle. Charr settling a disagreement with one another via headbutting. Charr with an amputated horn having a false metal one in its place. Bone tools made of charr antlers.

Maybe the different varieties of horns varying from which legion a charr is from. Ash legion? Sleek horns, generally sweeping back, not intrusive, easy to conceal. Blood legion? Forward horns with sharpened tips, good for goring. Iron legion? Curled, broad, wide horns, maybe even good for hanging tools on.

I would love to see some of this depicted!! Obviously it's such a broad topic to cover because of how many different ways horns can be portrayed, and this is all probably a bit convoluted, but you know... it would be fun to at least have it acknowledged somewhere in the game that horns offer much more to charr culture than just visual value.

*I think that this is canon because I swear I've read it before, whether through in-game dialogue or some other canon source, but I can't find anything online confirming this, so I could be entirely wrong. I know that Rytlock burned the bodies of some fellow soldiers on a pyre in the Edge of Destiny book, but that may just be specific to that circumstance.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #charr #''true horn'' isn't an actual term or anything i'm just using it to differentiate between horns and antlers since they're both just called #horns in-game. #anyway cyna has the antler-type horns but I don't hc that she sheds them or anything. they grow pretty much like the true horns #but she'll probably gain some more points as she ages.

[konilt]

Blood of the Covenant ch.1/7

The walls were made of a dark grey stone, traces of black colouring them, as if charcoal always rained on the manor. He didn’t know whether they were the aftermath of a fire or simply the unique colouration of the dreaded stone that one villager had murmured him about between a beer of two in the inn, four towns away. There was no reason to fear a building material, Izuku thought. He was a scholar, even if a bit young, but he wasn’t superstitious.

Izuku stood in front of the immense dark wooden entrance, the door’s panels standing tall, far above him, a feeling of dread pressing through his veins.

He knocked on one of the two panels that were each five time his size; and without anyone pulling it, the doors slowly creaked open.

The hallway of the grand entrance was gargantuan, tall immobile statues staring down at him with their frozen eyes. It felt like the interior of a cathedral, if not for the darkness that seemed to sip in each corner, big blotches of black ink obscuring the entire space like they would on one of his parchments, often to his greatest despair.

“Hello?” he said in a poised voice, trying to sound as sure as himself as he possibly could. There was barely a glimmer of light coming through the tiny opening a wind had probably pushed open.

Silence answered.

He stepped forwards, ignoring the way the hair on his neck slowly started rising up, chills running down his spine.

“I’m- Midoriya Izuku”, he continued loudly, echoes answering him back, “is there anyone here?”

Was there anyone that was supposed to greet him?

Maybe he was being rude. Yep. He should have waited outside. Damn it.

He turned on his heels and walked towards the open door, two metres away from him.

Then the tall heavy panels of the door slammed close.

Izuku gulped down.

Great. Now he was trespassing. Knowing this Count, he’d be executed on the spot.

So much for desperately trying one last option.

“I do not often have the pleasure of welcoming guests”, a deep-pitched voice said in his back.

Izuku turned a full one hundred eighty degrees.

He came face to face with the black eyes of a person, who was fixing him, barely a centimetre away.

Izuku jerked back, hands rising comically up, slapping in the air.

He leapt back, his instincts feeling absolutely raw and uncontrolled.

“AAh!” he yelled, lowering his voice quickly enough. “Sorry, you… you scared me.”

The person in front of him slowly blinked, and straightened his back; Izuku realized then than the figure had been almost bending itself in two to be face to face.

Goodness, this man was tall.

“My…” the voice rasped, like a rock in a cave of granite, his lips thinning in a strange smile “…Apologies. It has been a long time since I talked to a... peasant.”

Izuku closed his eyes quizzically, and tilted his head to the side.

“…I’m… Midoriya Izuku. I apologize for the unprompted visit, but I didn’t have enough money to send a raven here.”

Izuku stared back at the man who hadn’t stopped eyeing him, never ceasing eye contact. The tall person had a stance and noble features that recounted with no doubt his aristocratic origins, along with a vigorous musculature hidden between layers of clothing of great mark.

He wore regal clothes that contrasted with Izuku’s own apparel; it had to be the… Count.

The adult seemed to still be in the strength of age, which felt odd. Besides the white hair, there was no other indication of his age. Even then, it might be the natural complexion of this nobleman, after all, nobles were all known for having a strange air to them; the ethereal one of great descent.

Izuku difficultly swallowed down.

Izuku would have thought that his father would at least have wrinkles under his eyes, or at least greying hair.

Instead, the Count stood here, his eyes suddenly widening.

Izuku saw one of his hands raise, a single index pointing slightly upwards. Izuku thought he saw sharp long nails, but before he could get a clear view in the darkness, the hand disappeared back in the Count’s cloak.

“And what is the motive of your visit?” he asked, squinting.

Oh.

Izuku opened his mouth, closed it, and reconsidered his life options again. But he needed to talk.

“I was raised by the church and only was given back my documents after I left for my studies in a seminary. I… discovered then that… you- I…”

The count smiled all while looking at him in a funny way.

He almost seemed to be mocking him.

Izuku sighed, closed his eyes, and decided to try the sincerity card. Damn it. This would fail. He saw the very same eyes of the Count keep on staring at him with an emotionless expression.

“I came here to find enough money to continue my studies out of the sphere of control of the church. They wanted me to become an exorcist, one of those demon hunters that loiter from village to village, but I’m not superstitious. I like being a scholar. But I need money for that. And I thought- I believed you had an affair with my mother. Thus I came here”, he finished, “For money.”

The Count blinked two times at him.

He didn’t smile.

“Isn’t that quite rich?” he said.

Izuku bit his lips the stronger he could, until he tasted blood, the taste spreading through his mouth.

“Yes. It is.”

The Count tilted his head to the side, the rest of his body remaining perfectly immobile.

“Do you try this often on each nobleman you come across?”

Izuku looked back, offended.

“Maybe you thought it was a good idea to forge your papers, hm?” the Count continued, “Perhaps even you believed you would be able to seize an important part of my estate?”

Izuku’s eyes blew wide open.

“N-no! I- No. I was first seeking my mother, not- not my father!”

The Count raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Izuku nodded vigorously.

“My mentor was part of a group who hid from me the identity of my mother. Her name was Inko. It… Does it mean anything to you? If not, I’ll leave. I swear I would not lie on this. But from what I’ve gathered, it’s likely that you and her eloped together.”

The laughter of the Count was deep and rich, almost like a lugubrious symphony.

He then suddenly stopped laughing, staring back at Izuku, a hint of red in his eyes as he looked down at Izuku’s face.

Izuku gulped down the little blood that was in his mouth.

The Count remained immobile, his nose slowly breathing in and out air in a weird manner, eyes fixed in the horizon for a long moment. Izuku didn’t know where to put himself. He didn’t feel like he should nor that he could move. It was awfully strange and cold, as if his whole body was frozen in a strange sort of stasis.

The Count’s eyes then brightened up as he looked in Izuku’s ones.

“Very well!” he said with cold enthusiasm, “Maybe you deserve at least to stay for the night, traveller?”

Izuku looked back; he knew he couldn’t refuse. It was late night, and it was common knowledge not to ever stay outside in the dark. He didn’t know how he would have done things had the Count not welcomed him. There were savage animals in the woods, and those were very real and very deadly.

“Thank you for your hospitality”, he said, bowing deeply.

A strong hand seized his right arm, taking him by surprise as he was pulled forwards, the Count keeping a steady pace in the hallway.

“Oh, but you are most welcome, little one”, the pale noble answered him with a smile, as if he were thanking him for something else entirely.

Izuku tried to swallow down his worries.

He never had been a superstitious man, by any means.

#dfo #dad for one #All for One is Midoriya Hisashi #hisashi midoriya is all for one #all for one is hisashi #halloween!bnha #vampire!au #vampire dad tries to bond with human son #it doesn't turn out great #they have a few disagreements on how to treat cattle #cough cough

[thelastspeecher]

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures, Pt. 2

Electric Boogaloo

I actually have two more scenes planned to tie up this little story arc in my D&D AU where Stan is half-orc and half-elf.  I originally was going to include those scenes in this post, but then these two scenes on their own were much longer than I expected.  So, uh, here’s some awkward stuff, some angst, some “aww” moments, and most importantly, a whole mess of Stan being head over heels for Angie.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan couldn’t decide whether the expectation he did chores was the worst part or the best part of staying at the McGucket farmstead. On the one hand, he had to get up when Ole Tinbeak – the earliest rising rooster – crowed.  On the other hand, the praise from Mr. McGucket never seemed to end.

              “Excellent!” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully, watching Stan lug a bale of hay twice his size.  “I must say, Stanaximus, yer the strongest elf I’ve ever seen, and yer only a child right now!”  Stan grinned despite the straws of hay poking his face.  “Would ya consider employment as a farmhand?”

              “Thanks,” Stan said, slipping into the manners that Mrs. McGucket had insisted on drilling into him.  “But I like being a ranger with Angie and Lute.”

              “Fair enough,” Mr. McGucket said.  Stan set down the bale of hay.  His vision now unobscured, he spotted Lute standing a few feet away.  Lute had never seemed that intimidating to Stan before, and his new age (and matching immature wardrobe with many pairs of shorts) only served to hinder his continued attempts.  He was in his thirties, according to Mrs. McGucket, which made him like a human five-year-old.

              “He’s only bein’ nice to you ‘cause yer a guest,” Lute hissed.  Stan snorted.

              “If you could see through all that hair, you’d know that’s not true,” he replied.  Lute lifted the dark bangs that covered his eyes to glare at Stan.

              “I can see just fine,” Lute snapped.  Stan grinned.

              “Aw, is someone grumpy ‘cause he’s overdue for a nap?” Stan teased.  Lute blushed fiercely.  The McGucket parents had insisted Lute have at least one nap a day at this age.  Something about the extra rest being particularly important for growing elves.  “Maybe you should go sleep.”

              “You-” Lute started.  Mr. McGucket came over.  He took his youngest son’s hand.

              “He’s right, Lute.  Stan, think ya can finish the chores if Angie helps?”

              “Uh, sure.  But I don’t know where she is,” Stan said slowly.  Someone jumped down from the barn’s loft, landing lightly in front of Stan.  Angie beamed at him.  “…How long were you up there?”  Angie shrugged.

              “It’s startin’ to get a bit dark, so ya best check the fence fer breaks first, ‘fore night falls,” Mr. McGucket said, leading Lute out of the barn.  Stan and Angie nodded.  Once Mr. McGucket was gone, Stan turned to Angie.

              “We’re supposed to check the fence?” he asked.

              “Yep!  Follow me.�� Angie walked out of the barn. Stan followed.  They went to the enclosed cattle pasture and began to follow the fencing.  “Luckily, breaks ‘re pretty easy to spot,” Angie said cheerfully.  “And easy to fix, too.  Just a quick Mending.”  Stan nodded silently, trying to ignore how the setting sun made her golden hair turn a fiery orange.  They continued to walk in silence for a few moments.  “Don’t let Lute get ya down,” Angie said in a low tone.

              “Huh?  Oh, I’m not.” Stan shrugged.  “I actually kinda like being a kid again.”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah.  I’m-” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly.  “I’m not in that big of a rush to get this curse removed, to be honest.”  Angie came to a stop, leaning against the fencing. Stan did the same.  His hands gripped the wooden slats.  Angie turned her head to face him.  A few long golden strands of hair loose from her braid bounced with the movement.  The sun cast her form in a brilliant halo.

              “Why’s that?” she asked.  Distracted by how she looked in the fading light, Stan didn’t hear her question.

              “Huh?” he mumbled.  Angie rolled her silver eyes.  As dusk encroached, they began to glow with a faint foxfire.

              “Why are ya not in a hurry to be back to normal?” she asked.  “I thought ya missed yer tusks.”  Stan sighed.

              “I mean, I do.”

              “Then what’s goin’ on?”

              “I…”  Stan trailed off.  Angie scooted closer to him.  Her hand rested next to his, their skin touching.  Stan’s heartrate picked up.  Unable to stop himself, he blurted out the truth.  “I forgot how much better people used to treat me.”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “…Pardon?” she asked.

              Shit.  Way to go, Stan.  This is what you get for being so easily distracted by pretty girls.

              “I grew up in a mostly human settlement,” Stan said quietly.  “The only elf who lived in town was my mom.  Looking like her, I got attention.  But it was good attention, ‘cause a lotta humans are obsessed with elves. Even travelers passing through would sometimes stop and talk to me and my twin brother.  I think…”  Stan furrowed his brow.  “I think my mom said that, if we had grown up in a proper elf environment, we wouldn’t be allowed to interact with visitors.  I guess elf kids are considered really important, so they get kept away from outsiders.  At least, that’s how it was where my mom grew up.”

              “Ma says things were the same way where she came from,” Angie said.  “She ‘n Pa had some disagreements ‘bout it when we were little.  So it’s probably a high elf thing, not a specific place thing.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan took a breath.  “I liked getting all that positive attention.  But then my tusks started growing in, and my hair got darker, and I got bigger in a way that elves just aren’t.”  Stan looked down at the dirt.  He nudged a clump with the toe of his borrowed boot.  “I stopped looking like my mom and started looking like my pops. And I don’t have a lick of human in me, so I don’t look like a proper half-orc.  By the time I was sixteen, I looked full orc.”  Angie made a strangled sound.  Stan looked at her.

              “Sixteen?” she choked out, shocked.

              “Orcs don’t live that long.  Until I became an adult, I aged close to the same rate humans do. I think I was about twenty when my elf side kicked in to slow it down.”

              “Oh.  Right.” Angie nodded.  “You told me ‘fore that you were in yer sixties.”

              “Yep.  Haven’t aged a day in the last forty years, thanks to Mom.”

              “Yes.  Okay, continue yer story.”

              “Well, I dunno how much there is left to tell. I looked like an orc, and you know how people treat orcs.  Visitors stopped giving me treats and started putting their hands on their weapons when they saw me.  Since that’s how it’s been for the last few decades, I forgot that people didn’t always look at me like I was about to kill them.”

              “Even if you don’t get the curse reversed, you’ll start agin’ on yer own,” Angie pointed out.  Stan’s stomach twisted into a knot.  “Sooner rather than later, you’ll look like yer father again.”

              “Yeah.  I know.” Stan’s head drooped.  “It’s just-”

              “No need to explain.  I understand,” Angie said firmly.  She placed her hand over Stan’s.  Stan’s heart skipped a beat.  “It’s easier to be an elf than an orc.”  She quirked a half-grin.  “Though, just so’s ya know, I prefer yer orcish self to yer elvish self.”

              “R-really?” Stan stammered.  Angie nodded.

              “Tusks ‘n all.”

----- 

              Stan had just finished his breakfast when Mr. McGucket entered the kitchen.

              “Stanaximus?” he said.  Stan looked over.

              “Yeah?”              

              “Walk with me, son.”

              “Um.  Okay.” Stan deposited his plate in the sink and followed Mr. McGucket outside.  “Did you need me for something?”

              “I just need to have a lil chat with ya,” Mr. McGucket said airily.  “But I think you’d prefer the chat happen where there aren’t ears to listen.” Dread began to build in Stan’s gut. The two walked off the main, cleared area that constituted the farmstead, and into the surrounding woods.  Mr. McGucket moved through the trees like he was one with his surroundings, effortlessly silent and graceful.  It was actually almost difficult for Stan to keep track of the man, as he blended in so well.

              I mean, he is a wood elf.  Makes sense.

              “What did you wanna talk about?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket smiled.

              “You courtin’ my youngest child,” he said simply. Stan stumbled over a root.  Mr. McGucket caught him.  “You all right?”

              “Yeah, I’m- I’m-”  Stan swallowed.  “What makes you think I wanna court Angie?”

              “I see the way ya look at her.  Like she’s the sun, moon, ‘n stars.  There’s no mistakin’ what that means.”  Mr. McGucket looked at Stan.  “You can deny all ya want after this conversation, but I want ya to be truthful durin’ it, okay?”

              “…Fine,” Stan mumbled.  He clenched his hands into fists and ground them into his eyes.  “I…I really like Angie, and being a kid again has made it a lot worse.”

              “Makes sense.  Children have lesser control over their emotions, after all.  Thank you fer bein’ willin’ to talk blunt with me.”

              “Yeah, whatever.”

              “Now, I encourage ya to court Angie, once you’ve all been returned to yer proper ages.  But I needed to warn ya that a courtship with her won’t go without difficulties.”

              “What- what do you mean?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket sighed.

              “Politics.  Yer a noble, and my wife, she…she was somethin’ sim’lar ‘fore she left her home to be with me.  I don’t know whether she still has her title or not, and our children certainly don’t have any titles, but they do technically belong to a very powerful sun elf house.  If you were a wood elf, or even just a reg’lar sun elf, I doubt it would be a problem. As it is, it might not be.  But it could be.  So I figured I’d warn ya.”

              “But I’m not noble,” Stan said.  Mr. McGucket frowned at him.  “You guys keep insisting I am, but I’m not!  Maybe my mom is, or was, but my pops, he was about as far from noble as you can get.”

              “Was?”

              “…Pops passed away a few decades ago,” Stan said quietly.

              “My condolences.”

              “I don’t need ‘em.  He was a kinda shit father.”

              “Hmm.”  At Mr. McGucket’s thoughtful, though noncommittal, sound, Stan looked up.  There was a troubled look on the man’s face.  “Would that be related to the scars on yer back and arms?”

              “How- how do you-”

              “Harper saw when he took ya to the lake to swim last week,” Mr. McGucket explained.  Stan stifled a curse.  The oldest McGucket son, Harper, had showed up unexpectedly with his adopted children, then insisted on them all doing activities during his visit.  Harper was an incredibly odd person, but Stan thought he was at least tolerable.

              At least, I used to think that.  Now that I know he’s a snitch?  Nah.

              “I want to revisit this at a later time,” Mr. McGucket said after a moment. “Right now, we need to talk about you courtin’ my daughter.”

              Do we?

              “There’s no doubt you have noble blood, Stan.  Just yer full name is one that’s indicative of high status.  Even if ya don’t have a noble title or upbringing, ya have it in yer heritage.”  Mr. McGucket cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Though not havin’ a title will prob’ly make it so Angie’s own royal blood ain’t a factor.”

              “Did you say ‘royal’?” Stan croaked.  A twinkle entered Mr. McGucket’s eye.

              “Yes.”  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Now, I will say- wait.”

              “What?” Stan asked.  Mr. McGucket now looked at him with visible concern.

              “Open yer mouth, son.”  Before Stan could comply or refuse, Mr. McGucket carefully pried his jaws open, looking at his teeth like he was determining a horse’s age.  “Oh, no.  Are these…fangs?”  Instantly, Stan broke into a cold sweat.

              Fuck!  My tusks! They started coming in!  Mr. McGucket released his hold and took a step back, worry etched on his face.  Stan closed his mouth.

              “It’s okay,” Stan said quickly.

              “Son, you have two teeth what shouldn’t be there, and what look awful dif’rent from yer other teeth.”

              “It’s, um…”  Stan’s mind raced.  “My pops, he got cursed when he was younger, and it got passed down to me somehow.”

              “Really.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s not a problem.”

              “Maybe.  But when we get this main curse off ya, we’ll take a look at this one that made ya grow fangs.”

              “Maybe…”

              Gods, no, there’s no way in any of the planes that I’d let some elf take my tusks away.  Stan and Mr. McGucket entered a large clearing.  Stan blinked at the farmhouse before them.  Without him realizing, they’d walked back to the McGucket farmstead. Mr. McGucket put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Yer a very interestin’ young man,” he said.

              Damn, and he doesn’t even know I’m half-orc.

              “I’d like to have many more conversations with ya.  But since yer likely to woo my daughter, I have no doubt I’ll have plenty of opportunities to chat.”

              “I might not court her,” Stan said quietly.  The second he spoke, he knew it was a lie.  There was no chance he wouldn’t shoot his shot.

              “It’d be a shame if ya didn’t, since ya have not just my blessin’, but that of my wife, too.”  Mr. McGucket squeezed Stan’s shoulder.  “And not to mention, we wouldn’t push ya to court if we didn’t think it would go well.” Stan swallowed.  “All right, ya can go back to denyin’ now.  I have to go run a few errands, and you have some chores.”

              Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Stan headed for the barn. As he approached, Angie emerged from it. She caught sight of him and waved. Stan’s heart did yet another backflip upon seeing her.  She came over to him.

              “Were ya in the woods with my pa?” she asked.

              “Yeah.  Don’t worry, he didn’t try to hunt me or anything.  He just wanted to talk.”

              “What were you talkin’ ‘bout?”

              “How you’re actually a long-lost elven princess,” Stan said casually. Angie gasped and punched his shoulder. “Nah, it was just weird stuff where he called me ‘son’ a lot and wanted to know about my family.”

              “He called ya ‘son’, huh?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Sounds to me like he was askin’ ‘bout yer fam’ly ‘cause he considers ya part of ours.”  Angie winked. “Good luck with that.”  Stan grinned confidently.

              “I think I can handle your family.  I mean, I handle you all right,” he said.  Angie threw her head back and laughed.

              “I’ll let ya continue to think that.”

#hhhhhh I love writing Stan simping for Angie and vice versa. just love me some Stangie #btw no clue when I'll write the finale for this story arc #hopefully during my days off for Thanksgiving next week #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Pa McGucket #McGucket Family #DnD AU #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[missholson]

SHIP HISTORY MEME

Embrace your past and get to know your friends’ fandom origins!

Rules: Post gifs of your fandoms / ships starting with your most current hyperfixation and work backwards. (Bonus points if you share any stories about how or when you got into that ship! But not necessary!!) Then tag anyone whose fandom history you’d like to learn about!

Tagged by the sweet @unwillingadventurer​, thank you girls! <3

Hoffmann & Tennstedt (Das Boot) The baby face & the stone face. :) The biggest reason for this series is my sister, who tried to lure me into the fandom already last summer by showing the first episode. Sadly it was a far too distressing experience. The story is about a WW2 German warfare, so it isn’t very light entertainment for Saturday night. The show seemed like a worth watching production, though, but I doubted if I could ever watch it completely. After visiting Berlin now in February 2020 there was no hesitation anymore. The story focuses on the Nazi German submarine, U-612, and the occupied city of La Rochelle in France. However, not everything is as black and white as one might expect. One of the biggest messages of the show is that war is always brutal, no matter which side you fight. The innocent are always suffering. It also shows how the ideal thoughts of warfare crumble, if it comes at the cost of greed, deception, health or life. There is disagreement among the leaders on boat, too. The new commander, kaleun Klaus Hoffmann, is young and inexperienced but kind-hearted and wise. Next on the scale, IWO Karl Tennstedt, is an experienced sailor and an glory-seeking soldier, who envies Hoffamann's position. He regards Hoffmann as incompetent and a disgrace to Germany. So, there is plenty of tension between these two!

Louis & Philippe (Versailles) I started watching the show sometime in 2015, but found it quite distasteful. It was more brutal than expected, and I was overwhelmed by people's greed and dirty behavior, so I stopped watching after a few episodes. Every now and then I saw pics/gifs on Tumblr, especially of Monsieur and Chevalier, that I finally wanted to give another chance in January 2020.  This time the experience was the opposite, and I got a better grip on the story. I was surprised how little I liked the popular Monchevy pair and, instead, so much the quarreling brothers. I was very moved when they joked with each other and showed brotherly love. In the scenes of conflict, I missed their compassion. I haven't watched the rest of seasons 2-3 yet, so I don't know if they get better. I hope so because together they would be a powerful duo.

Matt & Cherry (Red River) I had recorded Red River (1948) on my set-top box, and the closing date was expiring in December 2018. It was Montgomery Clift’s breakthrough movie, so it was a must see. The movie was a refreshingly different western, where the hero is not a macho cowboy and John Wayne a bad guy for a change. But most of all, I was amazed how Cherry Valance's behavior towards Matt Garth was so heavily double entendre. At first they are presented as challengers and opponents of each other. Slowly Cherry starts to show admiration for Matt, and increasingly talks about his gun. In return, Matt needs Cherry's shooting skills to herd cattle. Eventually they become each other's trusted ones. I always find it fascinating, if tension begins to develop between the opposing characters. If the story has a couple that doesn't change, develope or lacks dynamics, it probably won't arouse interest.

Fritz & Dr. Frankenstein (Frankenstein) I had seen a Tumblr gif of Renfield crawling in Dracula (1931) in August 2018. It was Dwight Frye’s breakthrough role. The movie inspired me to watch other Universal monster movies, of which Frankenstein (1931) became my favorite. The work pair of the story, these two outcasts of society, melted my heart. For unexplained reason they have joined their forces and seem to be working well together. They have a mutual partnership, where they can act naturally without fear. Their work is unique, e.g. digging the graves or snatching hanged bodies, but they treat it like any other dayily job. Somehow, I like this way of approach. Actually I have written about Fritz already earlier, where I take a closer look at their relationship. The text can be read here.

Adrian & Antony (Sebastiane) Well, this couple is a specialty of its own. They are another ones found through Tumblr. I saw a picture of them in June 2018 which led me to watch the film. In terms of story or acting, it's not a very special movie but technically professional level. First of all, it was shot under the blazing Sicilian sun on 35 mm film. The light is a vital factor when using a film camera, so the pictures look very rich. The scenes, where these two are having fun together in slow motion, are breathtaking. I had never seen anything like it before and, in my opinion, stole all the attention of the story since they were just characters in supporting roles. It was like a gay paradise on earth.  Here I realize the importance in the way how the characters are presented. The technical presentation can play a surprisingly huge role when we try to read and understand the characters. It can influence us either to share their thoughts or to move even further away from them. Bonus points I give for Latin, which the entire cast is speaking in the film. I would also like to clarify that this is not a p**n movie or a family movie either. It’s a gay erotic story with some full frontal nudity.

Reinhold & Conrad I’m not sure if this is a ship or fandom, but I feel extreme warmth and joy for this pair (the Berlin trip may have something to do with this). They are also the only people from real life instead of characters. I’d like to share my story about them, unfortunately it's very long (I've never been a fluent writer) but explains my interest in more detail. I got to know Conrad Veidt already in high school at the turn of the millennium, the time before DVDs. Near the school there was a buy-sell-exchange movie shop, where my sister and I visited regularly. Somehow we ended up with the idea that we wanted to see The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), so we went to the store again. There was no copy, as expected, but the seller said he would keep in mind if one came up. Months passed and after a long break we visited our regular place again. This time, the man had news for us: he had received a copy and kept it in safe for us. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. First of all, the kindness of the man made us speechless, and secondly, we never thought we would get our own copy of such popular rarity. At that time movies were not re-released as often as they are today. It was a VHS cassette, bw, not tinted like the original version, and its quality was far from the 4K richness and sharpness. My sister still has the tape and is one of the treasures she will never give away. For years the film was the only Conrad movie we saw, along with Casablanca - until the digital age and the social media arrived. Again I have to thank Tumblr, where I found the actor Anton Walbrook. One of his most famous films, Viktor und Viktoria (1933), is directed by Reinhold Schünzel, whom I knew from Conrad's film Different from the Others (1919). I began to study Reinhold's background more closely in December 2017, and it turned out that he is a forgotten multi-talent in the film industry: He was a versatile performer in comedies and dramas, a prolific director and an idea-rich screenwriter. He had an eye for creating stories that were told in the minds of people in addition to acting and lines. He questioned gender roles and built juicy plot twists around them. He loved theater and was a popular celebrity in 1920’s Germany. He was also a colleague and friend of Conrad. They began their film careers at the same time in Richard Oswald's films, shared the ups and downs, even their wardrobe, and reached fame. Eventually they both had to emigrate from the national socialist Germany, so their paths parted. The following reunions were always a joy, “like the meeting of comrades who fought in many wars together”. Reinhold was supposed to direct Conrad’s first film at MGM in Hollywood, but the plans were changed. They never got to work together since the German years, when Conrad died suddenly. “Part of my life is gone forever”, as Reinhold wrote in his tribute to Connie's death in 1943. He returned to Germany in the end of 1940s and died in Munich in 1954. This is why they are so precious to me and why I find it important to share the memory of these two lifelong friends. The picture is from Eerie Tales (1919), one of their earliest movies together with the director: Reinhold, Richard and Conrad. Reinhold’s full tribute can be read here.

I’m tagging: @wohlbruecks, @perfides-subjekt, @kennyboybarrett, @chapinfan69​, @electricnormanbates​, @ars-historia-est​, @suchamiracle-does-exist​ and anyone who likes to do it. Would you like to share your stories behind your otps? :)

#tag post #ship history meme #ships & fandoms #personal #many thanks for posting this #unwillingadventurer #this was so much fun to do #it gave a much needed break to the situation we are living atm #i guess that’s why the text became so long sorry for that #i had to write it in finnish first #in order to get a proper structure #these are my current ships/fandoms #bbc sherlock & johnlock was the reason i ever started on here #own post

[presuninoc-blog]

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