#I had a different initial idea for the thought bubble that Tumblr will certainly not appreciate
Note
It's hard to find densu enjoyers. What's your favorite dynamic? And during which era do you like to imagine them together? Some people who write this pairing in modern settings make Sweden cheating on Finland for instance. It's as if each historical period demands a different reason for this rare pair to be together.
Thank you Anon for sending this ask about my OTP! I'll write my answer under the cut as I have far too many thoughts about these two.
Please appreciate this new and improved GIGABJÖRN this DenSu Swednesday.
The part of your ask where you said that some people who write DenSu in modern settings make Sweden cheat on Finland surprised me, because I have never seen this before. The only reason why I think someone would write this is because they're a SuFin shipper who uses cheating DenSu to introduce some drama into SuFin's relationship. There's no real-life reason why Sweden has to cheat on Finland to be with Denmark in the modern day, because they're all independent nations. Besides, both Finns and Danes make fun of Swedes. If their personifications shared the attitudes of their people, neither of them would want to be in a relationship with Sweden.
My favorite time period and dynamic for DenSu is the most vanilla one possible: modern era, happy monogamous relationship. I'll admit that I'm very bitter towards the old fandom's dynamic for DenSu where they were only violent towards each other. I like to write DenSu as the ideal relationship, so I want them to live in a time period where their countries don't have an active conflict against each other, where they can be open about their relationship and raise children without facing a lot of discrimination. Also, I write Mathias (Denmark) and Björn (Sweden) as human-like characters with unique personalities and life stories that have lived through their countries' entire history, as opposed to humanized versions of the countries whose personalities and lives are analogies for the country's history. This means that the history of their relationship will be influenced by their countries' mutual history, but it won't be determined by that.
Mathias and Björn are immortal magical personifications in my Nationverse, which is different from Hetalia canon in many ways. One of the differences is that humans aren't aware about the existence of magic and immortal personifications, which means that the personifications are not important figures in human society. They don't have a political role and they're not obligated to participate in every war and historical event that their country experiences, although they will be affected by these events in the same way as their fellow citizens. Another difference is that their health and physical ages represents the "conservation status" of their people and culture. Because their people and culture are not threatened in the modern day, their bodies are frozen at the peak of a human's health and strength, in their mid to late 20s.
Mathias and Björn were born when the ancestors of modern Danes and Swedes began to inhabit the land that would become the modern countries. They lived in their respective countries with their people, and they only started spending time together as children, after they figured out how to use their magical powers to teleport to each others' lands. Björn had an intense crush on Mathias but was terrified of others finding out about it, so he tried to suppress his crush by being an asshole to Mathias. Mathias obviously had to retaliate against this stupid kid who was being an asshole to him (and who he couldn't kill because Björn was immortal too). This was the start of their thousands-of-years rivalry.
As their countries formed kingdoms and started to have more frequent conflicts with each other, they formed a genuine hate for each other and challenged each other to fatal duels (being immortals, the loser would respawn). Björn's crush on Mathias only became more intense as they grew older, and Mathias also became attracted to Björn whose muscles only got bigger with time. Their duels with weapons evolved to fights with a suspicious amount of physical contact, but neither of them were willing to admit their attraction to each other because of the social norms of the time.
DenSu's fights ended in the 19th century when both of their countries lost a lot of their power and territory. As their countries experienced famines and mass emigrations, their health began to decline, and they couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of death if their countries' population and economy wasn't able to recover. Finally, they put their rivalry aside to support each other through their common struggle. I haven't decided exactly when the turning point of their relationship from friends to lovers happened, but I like the idea of Mathias living in Björn's house during WW2 after the annexation of Denmark. Living under the same roof as "friends" with intense mutual crushes led them to explore each others' bodies, and then...
The greatest strength of DenSu's dynamic is the physical attraction and passion they feel for each other. After all, if they can keep up a rivalry for thousands of years, they can turn it into love too. Both of them are the types of people who bond to one person very strongly. That person will receive their full love and attention, but they are expected to reciprocate just as much. This is no problem for DenSu, as both of them feel greatly fulfilled when they make their other half happy. While the term "opposites attract" is usually applied to DenSu, they are only opposites on the surface. They have different - nearly opposing - skills, interests and preferences, but their ethics, values, communication and thinking styles, goals in life and sexual preferences are very similar. This means that there's almost no "resistance" or "wasted energy" when they work together and interact with each other, because they can quickly agree on a common goal, know what their roles are and how to achieve their common goal. Each of them helps to compensate for skills that the other is missing. DenSu operates like a finely tuned machine with all of the parts in perfect synergy.
Scandinavian culture is reserved, so to the casual observer, DenSu doesn't even appear to be a couple, as they don't do PDA or sappy romantic gestures. The way they show love to each other is through silently doing favors for each other, remembering what the other likes, accepting their (few) differences rather than nagging the other to change. They keep the romantic gestures in private, and when nobody's watching, they are very touchy and "filled with desires" (Tumblr may not like the actual word). They're physically frozen in their 20s and have healthy diets and frequent exercise, so they get these "desires" very often. Despite what their physiques and body language would imply, Björn has a higher sex drive than Mathias, and Björn is a bottom. Mathias is vers and Björn will oblige when Mathias asks him to top, but he doesn't get any pleasure from it directly. He only feels the emotional pleasure from seeing Mathias being pleasured.
Finally, something I don't see being talked about often enough is the way Mathias and Björn verbally communicate with each other! Swedish and Danish are mutually intelligible, but the average Swede is not trained to understand Danish and will hardly understand anything. Danish comprehension of Swedish is better, but it's not great either. Mathias and Björn are definitely better than the baseline because of their thousands of years together, but they weren't together for most of those years, and they cannot fluently speak each other's language. Because of this, they modify their normal ways of speaking to understand each other better. They have memorized the most common vocabulary differences and false friends. When they talk to each other, they'll insert these different words from the other person's language, and speak in a more neutral "TV big city" accent without noticing. Björn's natural accent is not a big city one (he's from coastal northern Sweden), and I like the idea of Mathias making a special effort to travel to his hometown and study his dialect early into their relationship (before the invention of the internet).
More DenSu headcanons and essays to come. I'm thinking about creating a wiki dedicated to writing about my OTPs...
#ask#hetalia#densu#hws denmark#hws sweden#jämtlagd#I had a different initial idea for the thought bubble that Tumblr will certainly not appreciate#This ask is timestamped September 18 2023#I was just waiting for the right moment to post it#Actual reason: I wanted to draw something to go with it and only started working on Gigabjörn V2 Densu Edition last Saturday#This image is irrelevant because it's a combination of several unrelated ideas such as “draw DenSu and a holographic shirt”#The ideation of the drawing for this ask is where the unrelated ideas came from#It was supposed to be DenSu kissing among flowers. Then I wanted to have Gigabjörn‚ pink purple and blue‚ and holographic effects
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s nearly been a year since I first posted my Dawning Destiny 2 fic! My Tumblr settings were wonky at the time, so I’m pretty sure the original post didn’t show up in the tags, so... I’m reposting it again, this time with (hopefully) the correct settings! Happy Dawning!
“Banking Dark Chocolate Motes”
[AO3] | [FFN] | [Original Tumblr Post]
Summary: After spending weeks baking sweets for her other friends, Vallory decides she wants to bake something for a special someone.
Rating: M (language, some sexual themes.)
Ship: The Drifter x Female Guardian
The bland, serious walls of the Tower underwent its seasonal change slowly at first, but when the whispers of The Dawning started, it was as if the Traveler flipped the stronghold’s festive light switch.
Vallory always treasured this season, and one reason was because it came after the Festival of the Lost. The Dawning was a time to feel more alive after spending the duration of the Festival remembering her fallen friends. She’d always found it easier to celebrate their lives after the Festival ended, anyway. Something about the painful reminder of their faces on the memorials made it harder for her to move on.
The air at this altitude could be sharp and unwelcoming, but everyone did their part to spread the warmth. Families taught their children how to make special paper lanterns that would be infused with Solar light from initiate warlocks, every booth had a heater set up from maintenance, hot beverages were made and passed out every hour. It was a nice, warm place for active Guardians to come home to after their missions.
Vallory especially appreciated the difference in volume. As a Titan, she rarely had much time to relax her ears. Around this season, the Tower replaced its evenly spread busy clamor for concentrated spots with idle chatter. Vallory wasn’t too picky about it, but it certainly made the place feel more like a hub instead of a flea market.
But there was something extra special about this Dawning. About two weeks earlier, Val saw an elderly woman dressed in knitted clothing leading some groups in decorating, and the Titan immediately dropped what she was doing to greet the woman. It was none other than Eva Levante, whom many Guardians and other Tower-goers lovingly referred to as Shader Grandma.
Eva Levante seemed to remember every face here, which is one of the many reasons why people loved her. She also gave the best hugs–Val felt its warmth even through the bulky plate armor that she wore.
Eva had also set up her family’s grand oven, and many civilians and Guardians learned how to bake that same day. Vallory was one of those newbies; she always had an interest in cooking, but lacked experience when it came to baked goods and other sweets. Eva was quick to make Vallory change from her battle armor into more comfortable clothing, saying that it would not be wise to wear metal when working with a hot oven. It became routine for the Titan to switch into casual clothing before landing her jumpship at the Tower’s Hangar. She made sure to visit every day, and spent at least a few hours baking every visit. She’d spent the past couple of weeks baking and delivering sweets and pastries to her friends and comrades, from cinnamon-dusted Gjallardoodles for Commander Zavala, to Awoken Corsair-themed frosted cookies for Petra Venj.
“Whatcha baking today, Val?”
Vallory looked up from her mixing bowl. A thick, dark brown batter rested inches from the lip of the large wooden container. Her bright yellow-green eyes met the hazel eyes of a younger, shorter, tanned girl in dark-purple robes–Karyna, her best friend.
“I’m uh… trying my hand at a certain recipe,” Vallory replied, then resumed mixing the batter with a wooden spoon. She focused on blending the ingredients, hoping that Karyna wouldn’t notice the hint of a blush on her light blue cheeks.
“Oh? Which one?” Karyna inquired, leaning over the counter to get a closer look at the mixture. Her caramel brown hair was choppy and uneven, like she had cut it herself. It stopped just short of her shoulders, framing her face. The girl’s face had lighter splotches of skin scattered about it, and people often mistook it for war paint. In fact, Vallory was one of those people, but she learned later on that Karyna had vitiligo. “Can I help? Where’s the recipe? Is there a recipe, or are you just making one up?” The warlock’s inquisitive eyes scanned the items on the table: basic baking ingredients like eggs, flour, milk, butter, and sugar… along with a small glass container of peppermint extract and a large bag of dark chocolate. She seemed to come to a conclusion. “Oooh, peppermint! And dark chocolate! I don’t think I’ve seen you make this one yet!”
“You haven’t, because this is my first time making it,” Vallory said with the tiniest hint of exasperation. She liked to think she was used to her bubbly friend and her rapid-fire questions, but that wasn’t the case. “And I appreciate the offer, but I kinda wanna make this one on my own.” Satisfied with her work on the batter, Vallory began to scoop it out onto two baking pans, smoothing them over evenly with the spoon.
Karyna’s nose crinkled as she frowned, but her disappointment lasted just a moment. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. She placed her elbows on the counter, and was about to rest her head on her gloved hands, but then she quickly shot upright, alerted. “Wait!” she exclaimed, then continued with a sly smile, “these are for a special someone, aren’t they?”
The faint blush on Vallory’s cheeks became more prominent, and she knew she’d been caught. “Shut up,” she said, upon seeing Karyna opening her mouth to speak again. “It’s not like that.” She turned to place the baking sheets in the oven, trying to hide her stupid grin.
“Oh my Traveler, you are truly an awful liar,” Karyna teased, hopping up to sit on the cleared space of the counter. Her small frame took up very little of the hard surface, and her legs dangled several feet off the ground. Vallory turned to glare at her, and Karyna added, “well, you’re an awful liar when it comes to doing cheesy or wholesome stuff.”
Vallory wiped her hands on her apron. “I hate you,” she lied, then crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the countertop, near her friend.
“Is it for…” Karyna’s gaze moved over to an isolated corner of the courtyard, where there was a partially raised gate. “The Drifter?” she whispered.
Vallory’s eyes followed her gaze. She said nothing, only bit the corner of her pink lip, hoping to stop herself from saying something stupid.
“Maybe,” Val muttered, then swore under her breath. Eh, oh well, she thought, for nothing she could do would disprove the obvious. She looked at her warlock friend out of the corner of her eye. The girl was grinning at her devilishly. Val rolled her eyes, trying to downplay her embarrassment.
“Well, Val,” Karyna started, and the expression on her face became smug. “I won’t try to make you feel any worse than you probably do right now, but I just wanted to say,” she paused, taking in a deep breath. “Since I first became a Guardian, I’ve seen you with so many partners that I’ve lost count. And of the ones I do remember, I know that’s not even half of your total.”
At this, Vallory regained her composure. Karyna was right; she did find her way around, and there was nothing wrong with that. If anything, she was a little proud of her sexual endeavors.
“But,” Karyna continued, “this is definitely the first time I’ve seen you do anything like this for any of your partners.”
The Titan could feel her neck and cheeks getting red with color, even with her Awoken-blue skin. Karyna was right–everything Vallory did was either casual or done as a joke, and she certainly never did anything for her partners that didn’t result in sex. When the idea to bake something for The Drifter first came to her, her intentions were pure. Mostly. Any interaction with the shady individual was hardly pure.
“I dunno,” Vallory began, and a soft bell chime interrupted her. She uncrossed her arms and slipped on a pair of quilted red oven mitts. “I just thought I would do something nice for a change. And you know he doesn’t exactly have a… ‘safe’ diet.”
Karyna snorted at that. “Ha! And here you are baking him sweets!”
Vallory swatted the girl’s shoulder. “Whatever, you know what I mean.” She strode over to the oven, removing both trays with ease, and set them on another counter to cool them. It didn’t take long, due to the cold weather.
Karyna hopped down from her counter and stood beside Vallory, who had procured a triangular metal cutter, and assessed the freshly baked goods. Val’s mouth watered at the smell, but she quickly pressed the cutter into the pan. She repeated this until she had turned the two blocks of brownies into a large platter of stacked triangles.
“Wanna try one?” Vallory asked, holding out a brownie for her friend.
“Do I?” Karyna beamed, then seemed to remember her manners. “I mean, yes. I would be honored.”
The warlock plucked the brownie from Vallory’s fingertips, and they both bit into their respective pieces. It was warm and soft and seemed to melt in her mouth. The dark chocolate was rich but not overwhelming, and the peppermint left a cool aftertaste. It reminded her of the chilly sensation she got when she first held a Mote of Darkness in Gambit, and the rush of blood when she hopped through the invasion portal for the first time.
It was perfect.
A low hum came from beside Vallory, breaking her out of her reverie. She looked over to see her friend’s eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face.
“Well?”
“I think he’ll love it.”
Vallory smiled sheepishly. “I sure hope so.”
-x-
After she carefully wrapped the plate of brownies with clear cling wrap, Vallory hung up her apron for the day. Karyna had wished her luck with delivering the brownies and suggested that Val should buy some milk, so she stopped by a dairy stall and bought a half gallon.
Now she stood by the gate to Drifter’s hideout, balancing the platter on one hand and holding the jug of milk in the other. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and slowly ducked through the opening.
“Knock knock,” Vallory said, standing upright. In the corner of the dim room she saw the back of a man in a long, dark leather coat with fur shoulders. He was hunched over a work bench, so the top of his short black hair and the black bandana wrapped around his forehead were barely visible. His gloved hands were tinkering away at a hand cannon. She noted the Tex Mechanica logo on the barrel and smiled; he had good taste in weapons for sure.
The Drifter turned his head, the fur on his pauldrons tickling his chin. His blue eyes skimmed over Vallory, and he smiled in recognition. “Well, if it ain’t my favorite Guardian,” he said, placing his tools down. He turned to face her, his demeanor all swagger, and grinned that winning smile that made most people uncomfortable but always made Val feel relaxed. “You don’t look like you’re here for some Gambit,” he said, noticing that the brown-haired Awoken girl was not wearing her usual black bulky armor, but instead she stood before him wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a dark blue pair of jeans. Her dark clothing made her light blue skin and bright eyes more noticeable, and even though he’d seen her plenty of times without her armor, the sight of her momentarily stunned him.
The Drifter’s gaze moved to the objects in Vallory’s hands. “Oooo, what’s that ya got there?”
“Just a little something I made for you,” Vallory responded, moving to place the brownies and milk onto a free spot on a table. She unwrapped part of the plate and removed a brownie, then offered it to him. “Dark chocolate motes.”
The Drifter took the pastry from Vallory’s hand, the tips of his gauntlets brushing lightly against her bare fingers. She could feel her skin getting hot; she was immediately thankful for the poorly-lit room and the fabric of her sweater covering her skin.
She watched his scarred face as he took a bite of the brownie and chewed. “Mmmm,” he said, with his eyes closed, and Val shuddered. There was something about that noise that pleased her; it was low and and almost rhythmic. “You’re always feedin’ me,” he said, opening his eyes. “And here I thought our setup was casual.”
Vallory shrugged, then smirked at him. “I can’t casually feed the guy I casually fuck?”
At that, The Drifter let out an honest laugh. “Fair enough.”
She watched him eat the rest of the brownie, then he popped open the jug of milk and took a swig. “Thanks for the grub, Miss Chosen One.”
“Thanks for letting me share,” Vallory smiled at him. They locked eyes for a moment, and she seemed to consider something, but shook the thought away. She told herself that she had just wanted to do this nice thing and be on her way, at least this time. In the spirit of The Dawning, she told herself, even though she wanted nothing more but to hang out here in his shelter, away from everyone else.
“Well,” she finally said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Val could’ve sworn that she saw a hint of disappointment in his icy blue eyes, but she told herself that his desire for her to stay was different than hers, even if it was just this once.
She moved to leave, but paused. “Hey, Drifter?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, Hotshot?”
Vallory leaned towards him and swiftly planted a kiss on his cheek. “Happy Dawning,” she muttered, her face still close to his. She was starting to feel embarrassed again, and she didn’t want him to catch on to that, so she quickly strode away and out of his corner, ducking under the gate.
Vallory didn’t get to see The Drifter lift his fingers to his cheek, where she had kissed him moments ago. She didn’t get to watch the surprise on his face turn into a huge grin, or how he cursed at himself under his breath afterwards.
#fanfiction#destiny#destiny 2#the drifter#drifter#the drifter x oc#the drifter x female guardian#oc#my writing#destiny fanfiction
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
1998 Metal Gear Solid art commentary from Yoji Shinkawa (revised translation)
Source:http://web.archive.org/web/20050109031649/http://www.konamijpn.com:80/products/metalgear/art/index.html
The following is a translation of various artwork commentary by Metal Gear Solid illustrator Yoji Shinkawa that were posted on the game’s official Japanese website on July 9, 1998. These pages remained online until 2008, when Konami decided to relaunch the website in order to promote the digital download release of the game on the PlayStation Store.
I posted an earlier translation of these blog posts on March 8 of this year (2019) that was missing most of the illustrations being described, since the image files were not archived. I’ve since found the missing image files on another website and took the liberty of revising my translation to fix mistakes or clarify certain statements. I’ve tried to edit the original blog post, but for some reason tumblr didn’t allow me to upload any new images, so I decided to delete it and post the revision as a new blog post.
I’ve also found the images of the scratch Metal Gear REX model sculpted by Yoji Shinkawa that were uploaded on the official site, but unfortunately they were watermarked by a fansite that copied them back in the day. With that said, it’s still better than nothing, so I added them at the end of this blog poster.
Unfortunately, I still haven’t found any of the photos used on the seventh blog post, so that will still remain untranslated for the time being.
Interviewer: First of all, it’s a pleasure to talk to you Mr. Shinkawa.
Shinkawa: Please to meet you too.
Interviewer: I’ll start by asking about the game’s protagonist Solid Snake. What kind of details were you paying attention to when designing his character.
Shinkawa: Well I talked about this before in Konami Magazine Vol. 2, but there were two Metal Gear games prior to this one, so I struggled to find a balance between them. The Snake in the original Metal Gear looked like a young musclebound guy, while in Metal Gear 2 he was more of a bitter middle-aged man. This time Mr. Kojima’s image of Snake was one of having a tough and athletic body like Jean-Claude Van Damme combined with the middle-aged nature of someone like Christopher Walken. As a result, he became something of a middle ground between the two.
Interviewer: I see. What was your work after Snake’s image was decided on?
Shinkawa: The truth is I had trouble designing his costume. At the beginning I was thinking of a conventional military uniform in blue urban camo. But then I thought it might had been a bit too careless to have Snake swim underwater wearing such a uniform. Since the story takes place in the near future, he ended up wearing a costume made of leather and waterproof material.
Interviewer: It’s an amazing attention to detail that you kept in mind Snake’s infiltration route when designing his costume. So there’s a scene where Snake is underwater? What happens if the Ninja lands in a pond or something?
Shinkawa: What would happen? Huh... He would spark up and then yell something like “Water! My weakness!” (laugh) Just kidding.
Interviewer: (laughs) I guess not.
Shinkawa: It’s hard to know when it comes to Mr. Kojima though...
Interviewer: Don’t worry about it. By the way, is there any behind-the-scenes stories about the game’s development.
Shinkawa: Yes. It’s not much of an inside story, but I drew Ninja in a train.
Interviewer: During a train ride?
Shinkawa: Yes, I drew him while riding a commuter train. I was stationed at Osaka at the time. Most of the people there not friendly, so I would spent time observing the college girls.
Interviewer: That’s pretty nice.
Shinkawa:I guess so. But the friendliness here is good though. But Tokyo doesn’t have such a thing, so it feels a bit lonely. How I should say this, but there’s something that could be described as “enjoying the reaction of people watching in my direction” that could be seen not just over there, but here too.
Interviewer: So that’s how you train your sense of observation!
Shinkawa: No, that’s not what I meant. (laughs)
Interviewer: Is there a type of woman that you like?
Shinkawa: I wonder about that.
Interviewer: I’m sorry, that was such a trite question. Let me rephrase that. Is there a particular celebrity that you like?
Shinkawa: I guess I have no choice. My type would be someone like Shinobu Nakayama.
Interviewer: Is that so? Personally I’m a fan of Yuki Uchida if you’re curious to know...
Shinkawa: Yeah, she’s not bad.
Interviewer: Ah!
Shinkawa: Well, let’s put that subject aside. The truth is that the character of Mei-Ling was actually modeled after Nakayama herself. I used to watch her drama series.
Interviewer: Ah! That’s such an interesting thing to learn. Now that you say that, Mei-Ling really does resemble Nakayama looking at her closely, doesn’t she?
Shinkawa: Mei-Ling was written to be a bubbly college girl. She tends heavily to my taste, since she’s in the right age range and has my ideal image.
Interviewer: That’s nice. Having your preferences tied directly to your job.
Shinkawa: It’s not just mine. The character of Dr. Naomi Hunter was made to suit Mr. Kojima’s preferences too.
Interviewer: I see. Huh? At this rate, will you have a type for everyone?
Shinkawa: That wasn’t the intention, but... (laughs)
Interviewer: When was this drawn?
Shinkawa: I think it was around the end of last year. Huh? Around six months ago. Time sure fly quickly! I drew it for a magazine ad.
Interviewer: I heard the Ninja was your idea.
Shinkawa:That’s right. But originally there was a trio. They would say something like “Worya! Trinity Attack!” and they were going to have random kanji characters on their backs such as flame (炎) or horse (馬) without any particular significance.
Interviewer: “Fire” doesn’t seem so unreasonable, but why “horse”?
Shinkawa: I’ve mentioned “horse” as a joke, but that sort of thing happens very often, doesn’t it? When it comes to the image of Japan from a foreign perspective, while the outline is the same, the finer details differ. I like that kind of thing. The finalized design of the Ninja is and isn’t a ninja. If nobody told you he was a ninja, you wouldn’t think of him as one. But if someone points out that he must be a ninja because he has some ninja-like parts if you look at him closely, then you might think of him as one.
Interviewer: Is that so? That’s the Shinkawa magic!
Shinkawa: (laughs) What’s that?
Interviewer: I think I’ve seen this artwork a long time ago.
Shinkawa: It was first published around a year ago.
Interviewer: I see. So why did you draw it like an American comic book?
Shinkawa: Well, in reality I was going for a BD-style. Doesn’t it look like that?
Interviewer: I’m sorry, but what does BD mean?
Shinkawa: It stands for bande dessinée, which is the term for graphic novels in France. It means “sequential art”.
Interviewer: Huh, I did not know. So, is there a particular reason why you chose the BD-style?
Shinkawa: Of course! There is a reason. While talking to Mr. Kojima during the early stages, he said “Alright! Let’s turn Metal Gear into B.D” as a conceptual image. So I drew a few illustrations like that. This one was used as promotional art.
Interviewer: I see. So that’s the reason. And this one was perfect for a promotional artwork. Huh! Why is Gatse Becker [the BCPD chief from Policenauts] there?
Shinkawa: That’s not him. (laughs) It’s the Secretary of Defense [Jim Houseman]... Jeez... (While saying this, Shinkawa’s mouse keeps hovering on Mei-Ling for some reason.)
Interviewer: (nervous face) Uhh... Mei-Ling’s skirt seems awfully short... By the way, will you be able to shake the female characters’ breasts like in Policenauts?
Shinkawa:...That’s classified information!
Interviewer: Well, here’s REX. Is there anything particularly different about this Metal Gear model?
Shinkawa: The Metal Gears in the previous two games had weak legs, so this new version has a strengthened lower body. During the initial planning I came up with several illustrations and settings, but the finalized version was settled pretty quickly.
Interviewer: How so?
Shinkawa: Since it was going to be turned into a polygon model, I made it into an actual model in order to solidify its conceptual image and verify its functions.
Interviewer: Is that so? Please show the model to me.
Shinkawa: Of course! REX was designed purely as a weapon, so it’s not exactly a heroic mecha. I decided on a dinosaur-like design like this one, since it conveyed a scary and grim image.
Shinkawa: There are three types of enemy soldiers shown here. From left to right: we have the light infantry, the heavy infantry and the arctic warfare soldier (nicknamed Yukinko by the developers). There’s also a gas mask-wearing fourth type.
Interviewer: Were you given any sort of references to use?
Shinkawa: I had books and photos that were given to me by Mr. Motosada Mori (MGS’s military advisor).
Interviewer: All the enemy soldiers have their faces covered up. Was that decided because they were terrorists?
Shinkawa: That’s certainly something that could be think of, but there’s actually more important reasons.
Interviewer: Huh? Explain!
Shinkawa: Simply put, we needed to reduce the number of polygons.
Interviewer: Is that really the reason?
Shinkawa: If you want to draw faces on your characters, you have to use quite a few polygons to get them to a satisfactory level, which ends up consuming too much resources. When taking into consideration the game as a whole, you got no choice but to trim certain parts. It’s a shame, but in the end I think the finalized designs suit the enemy soldiers better.
Interviewer: It’s a matter of balancing supply and demand. By the way, I really like the helmet worm by the Heavily Armed Troops. You don’t see them often in the game though.
Shinkawa: Well that helmet is an original design. Like everything, I try to keep things intuitive for game-playing purposes. The enemy soldiers are color-coded from left to right: brown, green and white, plus yellow for the gas mask-wearing soldiers.
Interviewer: There are indeed a variety of schemes. By the way, the arctic warfare soldiers are layered with clothing. Snake spends most of the game in arctic environments, but he isn’t wearing that much. Why is that?
Shinkawa: He’s wearing a high-tech suit.
Interviewer: You said it so bluntly... (laughs) One last nitpicky question. Who does the laundry in the base?
Shinkawa: They use a laundry machine. (laughs)
Metal Gear REX Model Photos
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Powerpuff Girls 2016 - The Final Stack Up (The Worst)
It’s been a good time, friends, but the time has come. Which episodes managed to be the worst of them all?
This is the final stack up, and it's not just me saying that because the phrase "stack up" just caught on in my vocabulary. Out of all of the episodes, I'm going to make two different stacks of episodes: which episodes were the worst, and which were among the least worst. I would say "best", but I feel like that's a bit overselling even for those episodes. Let's start off with the worst, because I just want to get that out of the way.
Here's the criteria for that list:
It must be an episode of PPG 2016. As much as its quality is rather surprising, I consider TTG v. PPG a Teen Titans Go episode. While it even features one of the crew members, it has the Teen Titans Go animation, the Teen Titans Go theme song, and, for better or worse, the Teen Titans Go humor. Also, the Narrator appears in it for more than 10 seconds, and that’s just not allowed in PPG 2016.
It must be at least an episode of PPG 2016. The shorts are just too short and simple to rate among the full episodes, and I'm not rating PSAs or commercials. If one needs to know, Bubbs and Donny Get The Mail is the worst, and Mojo Builds A Shelf is the best.
In a challenge to myself, I have to say at least one good thing about each episode. I'd like to believe there's at least something good in even the worst of media.
This is my opinion and my opinion alone. There's some universally hated episodes I personally did not hate as much, and I am sure there’s going to be episodes people love that I did not particularly care for. It does not mean their opinion is wrong. In fact, this list is based on my current opinions, so that can even apply to past me's opinions.
Let’s roll.
The Bottom 10:
Without further ado, let's wade through the muck first, starting with...
10. A Star Is Blossom
At first, I didn’t think this episode was particularly horrible; the review even initially had a Neutral Buttercup, the “bad, but not that bad” rating. The more I thought about it, the more I felt this episode wasn’t deserving of it.
The whole episode hinges on Blossom being uncharacteristically evil and jealous of her sister’s success, to the point where she locks her in a boiler room all so she can be the red-haired warrior woman that she wants. It all just turns into this non-sequitur plot with this Viking woman that doesn’t really do much for me. Erica the Red was more annoying than anything, with her being so tough, butch, and not particularly bright being her only character trait. They do try to throw that moral about not being jealous in there somewhere, and it just feels forced.
I would be remiss to talk about one rather infamous aspect of the episode: the way it uses Jared Shapiro, a new “love interest” character. He seemingly has no other character in most of the episodes he appears in than being the love interest of a girl who is barely past the “boys have cooties” age. While this is not the worst episode with him in it, this is the episode where he’s the creepiest. One example is where Jared attempts to kiss Bubbles right on the lips, and Bubbles shouts for her understudy in apparent horror. That was the big joke to end the episode, and all it did was make me feel queasy even when I pretended to not hate this episode.
Good thing: I did enjoy Ms. Moss a little more here than in Drama Bomb, even if Drama Bomb was better in most ways. Maybe it’s because she isn’t entirely the villain of the plot, even if she was the cause of the problem. The viking problem, not the Blossom jealousy problem.
9. Snow Month
Snow Month: the episode that aired during Winter that explicitly takes place during Spring. Admittedly, they probably needed an episode to air during Christmas time, and there were no Christmas episodes in Season 1. Airing Twas The Fight Before Christmas was not an option. While I could see showing off the original would confuse viewers into thinking this series was good, it certainly would have been better than this episode.
That screenshot shows the truth, this is an episode where Jared is a major player. This was meant to be his very first appearance, though thanks to the mixup, episodes featuring him as Blossom's fantasy boyfriend have already aired. Here, we get to see him outside of Blossom's fantasies, giving her a note asking if she likes him. This utterly terrifies Blossom, and at least sickened me, and she causes a Snow Month to prevent her from seeing him again. To be fair to Blossom, I would want to avoid Jared, too.
There's a subplot involving this titular snow month causing a bunch of yetis to move into Townsville; yetis that act like rich yuppie tourists that openly discriminate against people that aren't their kind. Either that, or they were terrified people that had to leave the Matterhorn because of butthead yetis who destroy buildings. They can't seem to decide if all yetis are bad.
As for the other plot, it just ends with a total cop-out where Jared didn't really mean anything with that note. Throughout the series, no real progress is made with the Jared and Blossom relationship, even when Blossom just outright blurts out that she's in love with him in another episode. Happening to share the name of a certain spokesperson is only one of his problems...and that's the last I'll say about that.
Good thing: There's a cute sledding scene. I just found it cute, and Blossom even uses her powers at one point. It's good.
8. Professor Proofed
We go from one male character I didn't really like to another, and this time it's a character that is trying to be one character from the original. I'm not saying that the original Professor Utonium was an absolutely perfect father figure with no flaws whatsoever, but the reboot's version of him seems to be written more like a Sitcom Dad most of the time.
While he was making a growth ray, Sitcom Dad gets into an accident thanks to his bumbling and dangerous actions. And by bumbling and dangerous actions, I mean Buttercup shook a pepper cloud in his face. Yet, it's his fault, apparently, and he ends up becoming a man in a protective bubble. Sitcom Dad just goes along with all of this, because he decided he's not going to do anything of worth in this episode other than being. He's more of a prop than anything.
That's it, really, the episode is just a one note premise that doesn't do much with it. There's a giant baby caused by that growth ray, but the most they do with him is have him cover Bubbles with spit. If "kids being overprotective of their parents" is the funniest joke ever, this episode does not prove it.
Good thing: There's some decent commentary on inattentive parents. Oh, not from Sitcom Dad, but from the parent of the baby that becomes a giant.
7. Memory Lane of Pain
If you asked me which of the three Reboot Puffs is my least favorite a year ago, I'd say Bubbles. She's the only one that's inconsistent. Some episodes, she's an insufferable brat and/or crybaby. Other episodes, she's impossibly stupid, and not because she's written with child-like naivety. And in this episode, she's written as if she's the most incompetent superheroine alive.
This is one of those "three shorts" episodes, though it's really two and a really lousy ending. Blossom takes on the Rubber Bandit while Bubbles gets destroyed by a Dali dolly bomb, Buttercup takes on Popsicles while Bubbles gets turned into one of those ice cream bars, and Bubbles gets to learn that she's an everyday hero by a bunch of people talking about how she saved kittens and joined barbershop quartets. What?
I get what the ending was supposed to allude to: you don't have to be especially talented or have superpowers to be a hero. The problem is...Bubbles is a superhero. She has definitely been a major factor in saving the day in several episodes before this one. It just wasn't enough for this reboot to stab Bubbles' original voice actress in the heart, they had to stab all of the Bubbles fans in the heart as well, and that's terrible.
Good thing: The way the Rubber Bandit and Popsicles were taken down were pretty cool, and I would think if they were in episodes that weren't meant to be torture for the poor little blue teddy bear, they may have been okay.
6. Buttercup Vs. Math
As much flack as I gave the idea of giving Bubbles the ability to code in Viral Spiral, especially considering this reboot's constant gag of her misspelling words, at least I can argue that Viral Spiral was a decent enough episode to get girls into a STEM field. This episode, at first glance, appears to have the same mission, except instead of Bubbles and programming, it's Buttercup and mathematics. After watching this, I grew to appreciate Viral Spiral a lot more.
In this episode, we see Buttercup has a knack for math, testing herself into honors math. This gets her the disdain of people she considered her friends, even more jealousy from one of her sisters, and she has to hang out with nerd stereotypes that would make Urkel disgusted that call her a "math queen". It's no wonder Buttercup spends the entire episode fighting against this trait that's just forced upon her. This is the exact opposite of Viral Spiral; it makes math look like something only for super nerds, and people interested in math should be ashamed of themselves.
A special focus should be put on how they treated Blossom in this episode. In Viral Spiral, Blossom was glad to see Bubbles getting into coding. Here, it's A Star Is Blossom times 100, as she gets angry at the thought that the "muscle" of the group tested into honor's math and she did not. In the end, Blossom tries to take on the math-based villain, and ends up getting turned into a literal zero. That's it, really. Only at the very end does this episode give Math the respect it deserves, and it's so tacked on that I wonder if it was all meant to be a gigantic joke. If it was, it was not funny.
Good thing: The battle scene does at least give a good lesson about math: don't just take it all in at once, simplify it! Also, they did a joke involving decapitating Barry. Not that I hate Barry, far from it, but the fact that they even did anything like that is surprising.
5. Horn, Sweet Horn
Bubbles finds a new BFF, a horse with a cardboard tube on his head named Donny. While most horses just whinny, this horse can whine. He can whine about how while the horn he had was mere cardboard, he knows that inside, he's a bonafide unicorn. Since Bubbles really wants to be friends with a unicorn, she takes this wanna-be corn to the lab and tells the Professor to change him with his transmogrification ray so he can fulfill his dreams. Everything goes downhill after that.
With this talk about being a unicorn inside, Sitcom Dad warning Donny that it's his body and it's a serious choice, and a line about "adolescent self discovery" later in the episode, some may believe that this episode was meant to be a gender identity allegory. In fact, that was said to be the case in an interview with the two directors of the show. If that was the case, maybe having that transmogrification ray turn him into an out of control monster was not the best idea. To be fair, one of the writers had come out and said that the allegory wasn't intentional, though they decided to wait until after everyone shared their disgust with this episode to say that it wasn't.
Donny is just a terrible character all around, and he will prove it even more in another episode. Hint, hint. In this one, all he does in this episode is whine. Wah, I'm not a unicorn. Wah, science ruined me. Wah, I hate you for doing this, Bubbles. Slap. Wah, what have I done. The ending is ridiculous as well; it turns out that Donny's hair was hiding a horn this whole time. If I had a horn on my head, I would certainly feel it even if my hooves couldn't reach it.
In the end, Bubbles gets a horn that will summon him, which she will never use. Sadly, it turns out Donny can just barge in at any time without it. Oh well.
Good thing: A coalition of unicorns could have led to more interesting stories. I am really stretching for positives with this episode in particular; the only reason why it's even this high up is that it just didn't offend me as much as the next four.
4. Once Upon A Townsville
The Powerpuff Girls try to make a stereotypical Disney-esque princess into a superhero, something she is clearly not, and, in the end, they learn the lesson that people should accept each other for what they are. On paper, that doesn't sound like a bad episode, but the way this episode handles it is just questionable to say the very least. Simply put, this episode is about the Powerpuff Girls saving a princess from putting herself in grave danger, and they're considered the bad guys.
There's even a whole montage of her putting herself in grave danger, and except for one scene, it's more disturbing than funny. In the end, the episode seems to give the Powerpuff Girls a stern lesson over their actions in this episode, as if they were in the wrong for saving her from what are essentially suicide attempts! What were they supposed to do, let her die? I'm all for letting girls be themselves, but there is a limit to that.
At least they got into the Disney-esque spirit by making this one a musical, and one of the songs, otherwise a complete ripoff of Missy Elliot's Work It, has a Buttercup beatbox solo featuring stock images of the elderly. I wondered if it was meant to be a joke about how these old characters are desperately trying to be hip to the youth that this reboot is supposed to be for.
Oh, Once Upon A Townsville, if only there was someone who loved you. Well, the Emmys did, as they gave this one this reboot's only Emmy nomination. Sometimes, the Emmys are wrong. Either that, or Cartoon Network should have submitted a different episode.
Good thing: I kind of liked the joke where Buttercup keeps swapping away all of the poisoned apples. At least those only put princesses to sleep.
3. Painbow
Here it is, this reboot's most infamous episode. Clips of this episode became infamous overnight, and everyone seems to agree that this is the episode that shows how bad the Powerpuff Girls reboot truly is. While I disagree with the notion that this is the absolute worst, I cannot disagree that this episode deserves to be on this list. The episode involves the Powerpuff Girls having to stop a rainbow that causing everyone to be unnecessarily happy...except them, because they ate anti-mind-control pineapples. Better explanation than the nothing they give in the episode itself.
This all leads to the worst minute in reboot history. While this show's rainbow dimension sears anyone's eyes slightly harder than an episode of Problem Solverz, we get Blossom referencing the "literally can't even" meme of the early 2010s right after hearing Bubbles say "OMG, yas!". Not too long later, we get the scene that most people think about when they think about PPG 2016.
The twerk scene. To be honest, I think people are really overselling this scene. It's bad, it's uncomfortable, and it dates the show, sure, but there's a lot more to hate about this episode. The animation errors that are even more numerous in this episode, Sitcom Dad in a speedo, the fact that Allegro is just a bad Him wannabe, I could go on far longer than I did in my initial review.
There is supposed to be a moral about how there's a time to be serious and a time to be funny, and we know this because Buttercup outright blurts it out near the end of the episode. It's easy to be distracted from that, considering everything else. It's a bad episode that is worthy of the first Disgusted Buttercup. However, it's not the worst episode of Season 1.
Good thing: The way Buttercup punches out Allegro in the end is pretty well animated by reboot standards.
2. Odd Bubbles Out
No, this is the worst episode of Season 1. Because they just knew Horn Sweet Horn was going to be a huge hit, they just had to make another episode featuring this not-so-lovable hell horn, and this one is worse in every possible aspect. The episode involves Donny getting together with Bubbles, even down to going to school with her. Nobody questions why a unicorn is walking around with them, but I can ignore that. He then makes a brand new friend named Chelsea, which makes Bubbles really, really angry because how dare he make another friend. Not to say that there are other reasons, of course.
If I were to give Horn, Sweet Horn one thing; at least I know who was the most annoying character in that episode. Donny just hangs out with Chelsea off-screen, not even talking to Bubbles and treating her like she's not as cool. Bubbles is acting like some crazy ex-girlfriend over Chelsea even existing; it's as if Donny should only have her, and she makes no effort in joining in any of the activities Donny is doing. Maybe the idea was that neither Donny nor Bubbles were in the right, but all this really does is give me an episode where nobody was likable.
...and then Chelsea turned out to be an evil robot made by this show's version of Mojo Jojo, all so Bubbles can look good treating her like an irredeemable enemy. Kind of funny how the "silly monkey with the silly hat" that I call Discount Jojo for various reasons hasn't even appeared in this list until now. Most of his worst moments just aren't in the absolute worst episodes, it seems.
Good thing: ...and honestly, his plan in this episode isn't one of his worst moments at all. Making a fake robot friend was one of the better Discount Jojo plans. Such a shame it was wasted on this episode.
Dishonorable Mentions:
Hustlecup - No episode from Season 3 made the Bottom 10, but that's not to say that Season 3 didn't have any stinkers. In fact, this episode would have been the number 11 pick if I went that far. A sports episode where the sports parts are written very poorly, an ending that does not make sense, and a waste of what should have been a special appearance by one of the Gorillaz.
Quarantine - Quarantine was practically a blank check for what could be a really funny episode: Mojo Jojo and the Powerpuff Girls stuck in a room together. If only it was the actual Mojo Jojo, and the Powerpuff Girls didn't just relegate themselves to just constantly beating him up. It's just a painful episode all around, and could also be a good candidate for a #11.
The Wrinkle-Gruff Gals - Hey kids! Are you being bullied for being different? Why not follow their advice and try being different? I was way too easy on this one.
Tiara Trouble: In theory, an episode that involves the villains participating in a talent show should be a laugh riot. It's too bad most of the jokes are, "tee hee, what if they were dressed in women's clothing?" Also, it gave us the infamous Bubbles No Me Gusta face, which is up there with the you-know-what scene from Painbow.
Presidential Punchout - A really bad version of Impeach Fuzz. The only good thing about this episode is that it shows a universe where the most sane candidate could win an election. If only, if only.
Halt and Catch Silico - The most interesting villain that the reboot managed to cooked up is tarnished by this episode, as we get to hear his very confusing and laughable even in-universe origin story. Anyone's imaginations could have done better; they may as well have kept it a secret forever.
Huh, confusing and laughable origin stories, what does that remind me of? Admittedly, including this episode is a little against the second rule for this list, as it is just one part of a multiple-part special. However, it has certain unique and horrific traits about it that really puts it over the edge. And that episode is...
1. Bliss Reminisce
As a whole, The Power of Four wasn't bad. It had a solid opening, a slightly-less-solid ending, and a rather boring middle part that could have been cut down by an episode. Oh, and there's this part. There is so much I could say about this episode's flaws that I could make a top 10 just of the worst parts in it. In fact...I'll do it right now!
The Top 10 Reasons Why Bliss Reminisce Is The Worst Episode of PPG 2016:
This is more in hindsight, but out of the entire series, this is the only time in the entire reboot that Chemical X is ever mentioned in the episodes themselves. Such an important item in this series, and it's never used outside of what is essentially a joke in this episode.
Discount Jojo adds basically nothing to Bliss' origin story. They could have at least explained that Bliss was the inspiration for him pushing the Professor into the Chemical X, but we don't even get that. All it adds is that Jojo was Bliss's only friend at one point, which has at least one negative connotation.
That face Jojo makes in the middle of the episode, complete with stock image eyes and lips. Eugh.
Her name isn't just Bliss, it is Blisstina Franchesca Francis Mariam Alicia Utonium. Even disregarding that overly long names is a trope associated with overly idealistic fan characters, what the hell is a Blisstina? I know what a blossom, bubbles, a buttercup, a bunny, and a bullet are, but there is no such thing as a blisstina. They could have just stuck with Bliss.
Sitcom Dad is kind of a jerk to the other three throughout this whole episode, which clashes with his appearance in the last episode. There's sort of a reason for this, and I'll get to it a little bit later in the list.
Discount Jojo wants to tell his side of the story, but the Powerpuff Girls make him skip over the whole pushing Sitcom Dad into the chemicals part. I can't help but think this was done to not ruin that "great joke" that appears later in this list, but it also makes me wonder if they were even aware of one of the biggest reasons for Jojo being their arch-nemesis.
Sitcom Dad promising that he'll never leave Bliss, and, a few seconds later, he has to leave to get an reward for "best ham"! Sitcom Dad, everyone!
He even dares to say that Bliss is his favorite of all of his creations, despite ignoring her existence for the past 5 years or however long its been since the Powerpuff Girls were created. Again, seems to be a trope associated with overly idealistic fan characters.
We do learn that Bliss is made from Chemical W. That's fine, it gives an explanation to how she has so many powers that the Powerpuff Girls don't have. What I can't accept is that we learn that he not only accidentally knocked into a vat of Chemical W, but every Chemical from A to V as well! There is no indication whatsoever that this wan't just inspired by someone saying, "Chemical X, what about Chemical A through W, wakka wakka!"
Oh, that whole Professor Utonium making the Powerpuff Girls because he wanted a family, or being inspired by an incident involving time travel? No, silly, it's because he was envious of another scientist who did the same thing! The Reboot Puffs were made out of envy, really good to know. That scientist and her creation will never become important, ever; she's just there to take credit and decency away from the man they dare to call Professor Utonium.
Oh, and I didn't like it.
Good thing: It would be impossible to do a top 10 best things about this episode, but there is a mediocre joke involving a garage door that almost made my constant frown at this episode disappear.
With bad episodes like these, why did I continue to watch the show? I would say it's my job, but I didn't really get paid for this. Turns out, there are some okay to even, gasp, good episodes of this show. Episodes that actually made me happy that I did this experiment. I certainly would have never experienced them if I decided to quit watching the reboot after Season 1, which was my initial plan.
In the end, I felt it deserves to be its own article. See you tomorrow for The Best.
← Sideline Dad ☆ The Final Stack-Up (The Best) →
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Theme Song
Analysis One:
When I first started watching this show it was to find something my oldest daughter [who was three at the time] and I could watch together. We had been watching Gravity Falls but I knew it was coming to an end and I was pretty tired of Shimmer and Shine and Daniel Tiger and whatnot [not that there’s anything wrong with them and in fact I like them, just was over it lol]. Disney movies over and over I can do but I wanted something new that I could really get into. My sister loved it and I saw screenshots and stuff all over Tumblr so I was curious. I sought my sisters referral and she told me it was beautiful but might contain content that Andrea was too young to understand/comprehend, but even so it was made so it would still entertain her and contained a lot of themes that would reinforce the type of things I was trying to teach her as a mother. Now my youngest who was a babe-in-arms when we started has reached about the same age as Andrea was when we started watching and it's all of our big thing that we watch together and love so much. It met and exceeded all of my expectations in every way. The artwork and music is beautiful, I've added several of the songs to my "playlist" of lullaby's that the children request for me to sing to them. The girls adore the characters, Andrea even named "her” dog after Pearl [she’s even got the sharp nose true to form, but as a counterpoint likes to eat trash and roll in the mud]. They play games set to the story, talk about it all the time, cheer them on as we watch and even cry. It keeps us engaged and guessing and even my husband doesn't mind it and will occasionally watch the new episodes with us. We love how excited the kids get about them lol.
I was going to just jump into the first episode, but I thought I should do a little breakdown of the theme songs first,the old one from the first season and the one we've been using since the beginning of season two until presumably we'll get a new one at the start of season six. Also forgive me for not having pictures, but I don’t want to be stealing pictures even with references or tags and I have two children so I don’t have the time or patience to be going and getting my own screengrabs.
First I think it's interesting that in the old theme Pearl and Amethyst [Amethyst pulling out/down her shirt] both show off their glowing gems but you can only see one of Garnet’s as she adjusts her shades. Steven's can be seen glowing until he finishes his little somersault and his shirt settles. I like how the next few flashes show his youth [and immaturity] in comparison to the Gems as well. After seeing the theme we've had the last couple of years so many times I really love the parallels and changes. How when the warp pad goes off Steven just passively floats upside down, he makes a face when Garnet ruffles his hair [which is one of my favorite of their earlier interactions], running to catch up to them and then leaping to get in the lead. It gives us a real feel for their relationship but in an abstract way. Steven is the kid brother, to be protected and sheltered, maybe even a little annoying. They love him, but he isn't really a member of the team, he's just a tag-along. Then it evolves, they start in the temple but it appears that they're at the galaxy warp in the second theme. They focus on the Gems faces now and not their gems. He is now the one who activates the warp, with a hint of the Diamond Salute, everyone ruffles his hair while he smiles [with star eyes no less] because he knows how much they love him. Then the running with Steven trying to catch up turning to all of them just posing one by one with their weapons, but still as a team. We get a nice shot of Connie as the van drives through Beach City, she is front and foremost from our point of view. Lars and Sadie, Mr. Smiley, the Cool kids, Kiki and Nanefua are all there but Connie is the most important. Lots of people have pointed out the change in her appearance in the theme, and it's certainly the most obvious but I like how subtly everyone else changed too. Lars goes from throwing himself against the window to leaning comfortably, Sadie even looks more comfortable. The Cool Kids are now hanging out in front of The Big Donut instead of on the curb across the street. Onion is on top of it when originally it seemed that Mr. Smiley was about to toss him out. Looking back he was probably just handing him off to Sour Cream, but we didn't know he was his big brother back then. Jamie has been added, although off to the side sulking [of course]. Also added are Mayor Dewey, Kofi, and the Frymans. As funny as it is to see Ronaldo being flustered at the van driving by instead of Lars, my heart is warmed by PeeDee hanging out smiling on his father's shoulders and waving at Steven. It might be more symbolism that Ronaldo is trying to gather up his papers but pauses to watch the van go by. He has a tendency to let his theories run away with him, but Steven has consistently set him straight.
All that being said, Connie's transformation is arguably the most important other than Steven himself, although in light of Pink Lars and Rock Star Sadie not necessarily the most drastic in appearance. She is still on the outskirts, but it's no longer because she's an outsider as evidenced by her running after the van instead of just holding her hat in place due to the wind made by it passing her. I love the contrast in her traditionally feminine skirt to her more utilitarian shorts and clutching her book and holding onto her hat turning into still holding the book but loosely by her side instead of tightly to her chest and resting her sword comfortably on her shoulder. I really identified with early Connie and her escape into books. As a Navy brat I moved a lot, and being the oldest I had a lot of responsibility I didn't really want. When we first meet her in Bubble Buddies and she doesn't even notice Steven because she was so into her reading, I felt that on a very visceral level. I wish I could have found real magic like she did lol. Her books are still a part of her, but she’s grown so much, trained to be strong and skillful, earning her place on the team. I don’t think we ever actually see her wear a hat in show, and she loses her literal rose tinted lenses and adds in her glow bracelet showing off her and Steven’s friendship.
Greg is finally shown at the end, representing Steven's human needs with a grill haha, then in a final bit of symbolism in the first theme we see each of the Gems get their own frame with their name superimposed above them. They each get a slightly different time of day and a signature little move to show us who they are without saying a word. Garnet reclining in her lawn chair and only moving her foot at sunset. Amethyst flipping her hair at twilight with the moon behind her. Pearl adjusting her skirt as she sits in front of the fully night sky filled with diamond shaped stars. Steven eating a hot dog with the temple at sunrise behind him. In the new theme however they gather around Steven after a casual shot of the temple. Connie runs to join them, Greg relaxes up against a napping Lion. He strums his guitar as Connie turns smiling. Garnet lowers herself to sit behind Steven, Amethyst in her enthusiasm slides to be beside him, Pearl kneels down neatly They all belong there, as a team. They are all still individuals with their own personalities, strengths and weaknesses, but they communicate and fit together so much better now. The title is over all four of them instead of just Steven.
Steven says his powers allow him to connect to people, and sure that's a big part of his gem powers but I think his human half has a really great power too. He has the ability to make people connect to each other. His empathy brings all the people he cares about together and over the course of the series he's been able to dissect and help them solve the issues keeping them apart as well as deal with their own self images and trauma.
There's been a lot of speculation about a new theme, and although initially I was unhappy with the idea and content with the current theme I am coming around. I was firmly against the idea of Rose being Pink and that turned out better than I ever could have hoped so I'm fully trusting in Rebecca Sugar now. Especially with those scenes at the very end of Change Your Mind. The pan over the Crystal Gems, Off Colors and the humans mingling on the beach with the Diamonds looking over them. The change in lyrics about peace instead of fighting while all of the newly uncorrupted gems reunite in the fountain, and the fact that Steven leaves out his own name to make sure he mentions that there's more of them. And then the Crystal Gems in front of the temple, all of them. Lapis and Peridot have officially joined all in, Bismuth is back for good, Connie, Lion and Greg still in their rightful places, even Pumpkin and Cat Steven. It's all just so wonderful, if we do get an updated theme I'm sure it will be just as lovely, I'm trying not to have expectations although the parallels seem to indicate that at least that last bit in front of the temple will be integrated.
#steven universe#su thoughts#su theory#su rewatch#garnet#amethyst#pearl#gem glow#bubble buddies#change your mind#connie maheswaran#lars barriga#sadie miller#the cool kids#kiki pizza#nanefua#the frymans#peedee#peedee fryman#pink lars#lars of the stars#sadie killer#ronaldo#ronaldo fryman#jenny pizza#buck dewey#mayor dewey#sour cream#onion#the off colors
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Child of Peace 24 - Remade
Manorian adventures post EoS
full work on ao3
master list of chapters on tumblr
This one is pretty long. And it’s the final official chapter.
I say official because a while back, @itach-i asked for my version of a specific plot line involving Manon and Dorian. I wrote it then as an epilogue to Child of Peace and it’s been sitting in my drafts waiting for this story to end. But I realized there needed to be a part between this one and the epilogue. And then that one required two before it. I now have four epilogues started (which will be posted in the next few weeks). And one of those may be turning into an Asterin-centered side fic all its own. I don’t know yet.
What I do know is that I’m having a hard time letting this go.
Thank you to @itach-i for her amazing contribution to this chapter (in italics, you’ll see it, I’m not spoiling it here). It was her brilliant idea and I pressured her into writing it. She is the best!
A little over two weeks had passed since the battle, since the deaths of Iskra and the Blackbeak Matron, since Manon’s reunion with the Thirteen and her Crochan family. Some of the witches were becoming restless, ready to meet up with the bulk of their forces and move on to Orynth. But the group was stuck on the Anascaul mountainside. Abraxos was recovering quickly considering all the damage his wing had suffered. But healing fractured bones was still a slow process.
Manon was glad for the busy camp and the distractions it offered. But one new development was weighing heavily on her. She had not yet spoken to Aven about her confrontation with the Matron.
How can I possibly face her now, she thought, helping Alastair remove a splint from her wyvern’s last digit.
The Matron’s taunts about her helping to kill her own father still flitted through Manon’s mind, waking and sleeping. It had been an obvious attempt to confuse and control her. To break her. Attempt successful, Manon thought darkly, bile rising in her throat as she saw a flash of a bloodied, bearded man calling her name. She stepped back from Abraxos, letting the healer take over before she did something to worsen the injury in her daze.
After their initial relieved greeting when she’d arrived, Manon had been avoiding her Crochan grandmother. There were times when she wanted to tell her everything that had happened. Only to be stopped by the fear that, once the truth was revealed, she would lose the only loving mother-figure she’d ever known.
Dorian knew what she was doing. Likely knew why as he could sense most of it. They’d been learning how to control what they communicated through the bond so they could maintain some privacy. But when emotions were intense, thoughts obsessive… Things leaked through.
His understanding of how she felt couldn’t be blamed solely on their mating bond. Dorian knew because he’d been there. Was still there, working through his own experience with his father. His immense guilt not only for killing his father, but for feeling justified in doing so.
Perhaps most importantly, they loved each other above and apart from the bond. And that brought with it an attentiveness that she had not expected. Asterin had certainly never mentioned it. But then, she’d never had much of a chance to live with her mate.
And with that single thought, her hate for the Matron bubbled up within her. Forcing aside any grief or doubt or self-loathing she associated with the witch.
That seemed to be the standard for her these past days. Undulating wildly back and forth between countless emotions. One contradicting the other. All of them returning her to a listless, depressed state.
Manon knew she needed to talk to Aven. If for no other reason than to assure the kindly witch that she had done nothing to put Manon in her current condition.
“There is one more to come off, then he can take a test flight,” Alastair said. Abraxos thumped his tail in anticipation, then glowered as the healer amended, “In another day or two.”
Manon patted his nose. “If you continue to rest, perhaps someone will bring you some flowers again.” He gave her a look of pure innocence before settling back down.
Alastair left as she moved to fuss over a still-healing wound on Abraxos’s shoulder. Manon was so intent on reapplying the bandage that she didn’t notice the presence behind her.
“He’s quite a strong little beast,” Aven said with a smile. Manon turned to face her grandmother, but remained silent, unsure of what to say. After a long, awkward moment, Aven said, “Since we will be leaving soon, I’d like to take you and Dorian to fetch the wyrdkeys from the temple.” She added quickly, “If you’re up to it.”
“Of course,” Manon said, trying to hide her relief that she wouldn’t be alone with Aven. “When?”
Aven ran her wrinkled hand along Abraxos’s neck, eliciting what could only be described as a purr. Both witches laughed at the sound.
“Tomorrow morning?”
Manon nodded and turned back to the bandage, ashamed of her rude behavior.
Yet, she didn’t reply as Aven simply said, “Tomorrow then,” before heading back to help with dinner.
Aven couldn’t stop staring at Manon as they ate around the campfire that night. Of course, any time she was near her granddaughter, she stared. How could she not when Manon had the lovely face of her own mother.
She supposed she’d done a decent job of hiding her reverent attention. Though Dorian often caught her. As he did just now, giving her a knowing smile. Which she answered with a tip of her head, and by looking elsewhere. Though her amazement was sometimes noticed, she made more of an effort to hide the pain and grief that inevitably followed.
The first time Aven had glimpsed Manon being carried into the Maze, she felt as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. She had stumbled into the wall, willing herself to breathe, stay upright, and not crumple in shock. The witchling’s hair was not the ebony shade of Rhiannon’s, and her eyes had been closed, but her face… Her face was identical.
Well, almost identical. Upon seeing Manon up close, Aven noticed subtle differences from her mother’s features. The shape of her eyes, the fullness of her lips, the narrow edge to her nose. Which made her wonder, not for the first time, how beautiful Lothian must have been in person.
But more than anything it was the color of her eyes. By the Goddess, Manon’s eyes were like nothing she’d ever seen before. Crochan eyes tended towards various shades of brown, sometimes hazel. But the eyes of this witch… the granddaughter she had never been sure she’d meet… Her eyes were pure flame. Not just in color, but they sparked with intensity and purpose too.
And right now, those eyes were dull, reflecting not a glint of the dancing firelight. Lifeless and sad despite the occasional smiles and laughs. Aven glanced to Dorian, who was still watching her watch Manon. He knew what was wrong, what was eating Manon from the inside out.
Hoping to not be too conspicuous, Aven gave him a hard, pointed look. The look of a mother, or grandmother in this case, who was done with being kept in the dark. After a sharp, little nod over her shoulder, Aven rose and made her way out of camp. She would give him some time to slip away. But she would not sit around and watch Manon fade away.
Aven didn’t have to wait long. Dorian joined her by the stream ten minutes later, hands in his pockets, a resigned look on his face. If she’d been in a lighter mood she would have chuckled at the way he seemed to be expecting a scolding.
“Listen Aven,” he said, before she could speak. “Manon needs to talk to you about it. Not me. I don’t think it’s my place.”
Aven sighed. “Can you at least tell me if it’s just what happened with the Matron? Or is there something more?”
The air suddenly chilled and Dorian leaned down to look her in the eye. “Just? Just the Matron?” His anger was loud enough that he looked behind him to make sure no one would overhear them.
Cutting him off before he could continue, Aven said sharply, “You know I didn’t mean it that way. I’m well aware of the evil in which she dealt. She’s responsible for everything I’ve lost.” Her words seemed to placate him. But they raised her own enmity and for some reason, she added, “And everyone I’ve lost.”
Dorian’s face stilled, becoming a blank mask.
He’s an awful actor, Aven thought, as the realization of what he was hiding dawned on her. She didn’t want to say it, let alone think it. But she forced the question from her mouth anyway.
“Liam?” Her voice cracked when she said her son’s name. She couldn’t even speak the two syllables without breaking.
The despair that swept over his face was all the confirmation she needed.
Dorian reached for her, grabbing both of her arms. She looked up at him in surprise, not realizing she’d almost fallen to the ground. But he caught her and held her steady. Just as he’s done for Manon, she thought idly. And she for him.
“I’m sorry Aven.” He sounded it, his voice thick with emotion. “She… I’ve only seen vague images. Accidentally. Through the bond. She blames herself but.. she was so young. There’s nothing she could have done.” Now his voice cracked in a mixture of anger and pain. “And she hasn’t spoken of it since that day.” When Manon killed her Blackbeak grandmother.
With a questioning look, he let go of her and dropped his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I refuse to push her on this,” he continued, looking at her with such intensity, she almost flinched. “And I don’t think you should either. Not yet anyway.”
Aven got the distinct impression that he came to this decision from experience. Personal experience.
“I am sorry. I know the two of you need to talk. I can’t stop you. I just...” he trailed off, sighing deeply, as though his heart was breaking from his mate’s pain.
It probably is, Aven thought. No doubt some of his own mixed in with it. Then she glanced back towards their camp. Back to her tent and the treasure hidden inside. Is it time? she wondered.
She tried to smile for him but she didn’t have the strength. “I will speak to her.” His mouth opened to protest. “But,” she added quickly. “Only to let her know I am here if or when she needs me.” He watched her for a moment then laid a hand on her shoulder in thanks. And that touch cemented her decision. Knowing Manon had Dorian, had her Thirteen here now too…
Aven knew that it was time. Time for Manon to meet her parents.
Too short to reach him, she signaled for Dorian to lean down and kissed his cheek. But he surprised her with a hug. The warmth and compassion of his embrace almost made her sob. But she kept her tears at bay until he pulled away.
“Go back to camp Dorian.” He offered to stay but she waved him away “I need… I’d like to be alone for a while,” she said. With a nod, he turned and left.
Aven walked further up the stream until she found a good spot. Then she sat down and cried. Cried for everyone she’d lost. Her mother and father, her sisters, her husband, son, granddaughter…
She cried for all that had been taken from Manon. Done to Manon. All she had endured. And all that waited for them in this war.
She felt so tired. And they’d barely started this journey.
When the tears began to subside, she leaned back to look up into the sky. Only parts were visible through the trees, but it was enough to fill her with awe. Watching as clouds slowly obscured the moon and stars, Aven was reminded of something her mother had once told her. Something she’d repeated to Fallon not that long ago.
Regardless of how dark things may seem, the goodness in the world will conquer the bad. It may take time, but it’s worth fighting for.
Hope.
Such a core belief of Queen Rhiannon Crochan that it was present in everything she said and did. To the point that her cynical daughter couldn’t help but come to believe in it herself.
As Aven stood, the clouds broke apart, allowing what little moonlight could filter through the leaves to sparkle on the water’s surface. The light, and the memory, made her smile, even as the tears were still drying on her cheeks.
Manon woke to a bright, crisp, sunny morning. Usually she rose with the dawn, but that hadn’t been happening lately. Dorian never woke her and she thought about chiding him for letting her sleep in too long. But she knew it was his way of helping. She needed the extra rest. Especially after a night of tossing and turning.
Joining some of the other late risers for breakfast, she wondered if Aven would take them to the temple today. She’d postponed it two days ago and hadn’t mentioned it since. Manon supposed her grandmother was waiting until Abraxos was ready to fly so they would not have to linger with all three keys in their possession. On that thought, she went to find Alastair and check on her wyvern’s flight status.
The healer had removed the final splint yesterday. And as they neared Abraxos, she could tell he was anxious to be up and airborne. The shiny membrane of his wings was rippling with anticipation.
Alastair laughed and asked Manon to help him with the final examination. All the broken bones had healed perfectly except for one. But the healer didn’t think it would be a problem. “It may pain him after long flights,” he said. “But it shouldn’t interfere with his flying. Massage and a salve for pain should do the trick whenever it acts up.”
Manon scowled at Abraxos, who was giving her a smug look, no doubt thinking of all the extra attention he would now receive. But as soon as his tail thumped a few times, Manon couldn’t resist a smile. “Can he go up today?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not. But I would take it easy. Nothing too daring. No acrobatics,” Alastair said, looking more at Abraxos than her.
When he left, Manon moved quickly to gather the saddle and gear, just as excited as Abraxos to get into the sky. But when she walked around the wyvern, she came face to face with Aven. The smile her grandmother wore conveyed little happiness, causing Manon’s heart to skip a beat.
"Is something wrong?” Manon asked, glancing around to see where Dorian was.
“No, witchling, nothing is wrong. Dorian is helping Sorrel with the other wyverns.” Aven came closer to her and Manon noticed a package under her arm. “I hoped to speak to you,” she said. “Privately.”
Manon’s stomach dropped. And here it is, she thought. Finally. Aven would ask about the Matron and Manon would have to lie about her father. Or tell the truth and admit to her role in it.
Aven nodded to Abraxos. “Actually, I thought maybe I could join you? The journey here was my first time on a wyvern but… I’d be honored to take a ride on your Abraxos.” He beamed and puffed up to almost twice his size at the words.
Although she still felt sick over their inevitable conversation, Manon would not refuse. Aven didn’t deserve this treatment. Resting a hand on her shoulder, she said, “It would be our honor to take you.” Abraxos snorted in agreement.
They flew for only about an hour before circling back to the camp. Abraxos was doing well, keeping the flight smooth for his second rider, but Manon wanted to be sure not to push him. He had other injuries he’d recovered from, not just the broken bones. Aven had not spoken, but she was clearly enjoying the views and the wind in her face.
Not far from camp, Aven spotted the small meadow where everyone had been picking wildflowers for Abraxos and asked if they could land there. Manon obliged, steeling herself for what came next, all of the glee from this flight ebbing away.
When they landed, Abraxos immediately began rolling in the tall grasses and flowers, releasing a sigh that seemed to have been buried inside him for years. It reminded her of when she’d first freed him from his cage under the mountains in the Ferian Gap. She continued to watch him, stalling, not wanting to look at Aven.
“I won’t ask you,” Aven said quietly, causing Manon to finally turn and face her. “I’m here if you ever decide to talk about it. About… any of it,” she said. “Any part of your life.”
Aven walked up to her and laid a small hand on her cheek. “But I will say this. You are my granddaughter Manon, and I love you. Nothing you ever say or do will change that.” Her warm brown eyes, glistening with tears, bore into Manon’s as she added, “Nothing you have done will change that.”
“You…” Manon swallowed, shaking her head. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” she rasped.
“Maybe,” Aven said, gently taking hold of her face, letting Manon’s tears fall over her hands. “But I know what you haven’t done. I know what you could not prevent. And I know you have lived through horrors that most people can never imagine. And I know that I love you.”
Unable to stop herself, Manon collapsed against Aven and sobbed. Her grandmother’s arms moved to embrace her. Such strong arms for a small witch. And she wrapped hers around Aven. They held each other for a long time, both quietly mourning the loss they weren’t yet able to put into words.
After the tears slowed and they could breathe a little easier, they broke apart to find Abraxos watching them. He crept closer and nuzzled both of them with his snout, causing a few more tears to fall between quiet laughs.
As they finally wiped their faces dry, Manon said, “I promise to come to you. When… when I’m ready.” Aven only nodded, leaving Manon grateful that her need for time and space was so easily accepted.
When Manon turned to mount Abraxos, Aven reached for her arm and said, “Wait. I have something for you.” Then she climbed up and reached into a saddle bag for the bundle she’d been holding earlier. Manon had forgotten about it.
“And there’s something else I have to tell you,” she said, making her way down off of Abraxos. “Well,” she smiled to herself, “I was ordered to tell you. When you found your way to us.”
“Ordered?” Manon asked, trying to imagine anyone ordering Aven around. Anyone except maybe Queen Rhiannon herself.
“The last thing your sister said to me before she left was that you would have to choose.“
After a moment’s hesitation, Manon asked, “Choose what?”
“If you would be remade.”
They made you this way… They have made you into monsters.
Manon swayed, but Aven caught her. “She didn’t explain it to me but said you’d understand what it meant. But,” she paused, emotion threatening to overtake her again. “She wanted me to tell you her exact words so you would know.”
“Know what?” Manon whispered, her eyes wide.
“That she had faith in you. That she knew you would make the right choice. Knew you would come here. Come home. To unite our peoples.”
She felt as though she’d been struck. Dizzy, short of breath. Felt like she would float away. Except… Aven held onto her hand tightly, tethering her to the ground.
Holding up the package, Aven added, “Rhiannon wasn’t the only one who believed in you Manon.”
“What… what are those?” she asked, looking close enough to finally realize the bundle was a stack of papers tied with twine.
Her grandmother smiled, placing them in Manon’s trembling hands. “These are your parents. Their lives.” With her hands wrapped around Manon’s, Aven said, “Your father knew when your mother died. He felt it through their bond. And he left soon after to search for you, not knowing if you’d survived.
"Liam spent years looking for you. But every few months he’d return. To see Rhiannon and me. To check if there had been any visions about your whereabouts.” She squeezed Manon’s hands. “To write you another letter in case he failed in his search.
"I never read them, but he told me some of what was in them. And I know, without a doubt, that he and your mother would be proud of the witch you’ve become. Rhiannon would be proud to call you sister. Just as I am proud you are my granddaughter.”
Manon blinked at the stack of letters shaking in her hands. Some envelopes were thick, as if they contained more than just paper, and some thin, only holding one or two pages. All she could say was, “My parents…” Over and over, unable to quell her disbelief.
“I wanted you to be somewhere like this when you read them,” Aven said, gesturing to their surroundings. “So your heart would forever connect them with beauty. And peace.”
Manon looked up and gazed around her. The bright blue sky, a few shades lighter than Dorian’s eyes. The fragrant meadow, full of buzzing life and budding flowers. The snow-capped mountains to her left. The foothills and greening tundra stretching into the distance on her right. Her beloved Abraxos, back to rolling around and chasing butterflies. And her grandmother. A witch who loved her. No matter what.
“Thank you Grandmother,” Manon said quietly, putting every ounce of love she felt for her into that last word. For even as she’d come to think of Aven as her grandmother, Manon had never thought she’d be able to say the word again.
Aven’s face lit up as she pulled her down into a hug. “You are welcome my witchling.”
Hours passed while Manon sat in the meadow reading and rereading everything her father had written to her. Aven had insisted on leaving her alone, hiking the short distance back to their camp. The light was just beginning to change as the sun sank closer to the horizon.
“It should be a beautiful sunset.”
Manon turned to find Dorian walking through the high grasses, trailing a hand along Abraxos’s neck as he passed. The wyvern signed contentedly as Dorian sat down next to her.
“Hello Witchling,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Mmm. Hello Princeling.”
“I’ve missed that smile.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his warmth, only then noticing the chilly air that accompanied the setting sun.
“I want to show you something,” she said. “Before it’s too dark.”
Dorian snapped his fingers and a small flame sprang from them.
“Such a show off,” she groaned, flipping through the papers and drawings and dried flowers to find the letter she wanted him to read.
“Oh, wait,” she said, pulling free a sketch her father had made. “This is my mother. Lothian.”
Dorian looked at her in astonishment. “Where…?”
“Aven.” It was all she needed to say.
She found herself unable to look away from the drawing. Again. She’d spent much of her time examining the artwork he’d left her. Most of it of her mother. But some of Aven, his father Owain, and Rhiannon.
This one was roughly done, charcoal smudges here and there. But it was Manon’s favorite. Something about the way he’d caught the light reflecting from her mother’s eyes, the shy smile on her face… As if she didn’t want to pose, but he’d charmed her into it.
“She was beautiful,” Dorian said quietly.
“She was,” Manon smiled. “And here.” She grabbed another and held it up. “Here she is with my father.” This one was smaller with fewer details. But it was the only self portrait Liam had included. He’d drawn them sitting at a table. Just talking. It was a simple scene, yet she felt as though it told her everything she could ever want to know about them.
“You can read the others later, but…” She shifted to face him, handing him the letter. “My father left me his story. Their story.” She nodded to the pages he held. “This was the first. About how they met. Why he did this.” She ran her hand over all the materials, picking up a small dried rose and inhaling. There was barely any floral smell left, but she thought she could detect the faintest scent of… them. Her parents. Manon knew it was crazy but… Once the thought entered her head, it stayed there.
She looked over to see Dorian staring at her, the fading sunlight shining off the moisture forming in his eyes. A soft, lovely smile on his face.
“Go ahead,” she said, still holding the flower to her nose. “I want to hear you read it.”
His throat bobbed and he moved to where they could both see it. Then, he began to read.
Manon,
I spent a long time thinking about if I should write this letter or not. Countless times I began and countless times did I throw it all away. I suppose it is impossible to say everything that is on my mind, to tell you how much my heart aches that I have to resort to this. To conveying my feelings on a piece of paper instead of holding you in my arms.
But enough about me, I do not wish to upset you, and even if you never see this letter I feel like writing all of this down - communicating to you - will keep me sane enough to try and find you, wherever it is you might be.
I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I met your mother on a stormy day in a backwater village called Mistain to the North of Terrasen. It was odd to meet an Ironteeth in that area, most ventured away from the cold, especially in the middle of a particularly harsh winter such as this one. Which is why when I first saw her, I didn’t recognize her as an Ironteeth. The only thing that went through my mind was how she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was pale and had the most striking dark blue eyes I had the pleasure of meeting.
We were both in a local bar, and it was full due to the rain outside, so it was surprising when she turned to me. It was instantaneous the way we were drawn to each other, and I love to call it fate, because it led to the best days of my life…and it also led to you.
We spent that night together, talking about everything and nothing. It was a connection I had never had with anyone, and it was clear to me what it meant. We were mates.
I was eternally thankful when she stayed at the town, and I put off all my plans to remain with her in the outskirts of Mistain, in a little hovel we both called home. Everything seemed so perfect and Lothian was so kind and selfless. She wished to help others, and people would come to our home seeking her help for different ailments. I realized I loved her very quickly, but I knew our time in that paradise would be short-lived.
A few months into our stay, Aneira came to find me and Lothian had noticed her before I did. Her countenance had changed, and she had pushed me back. I asked her what was wrong and all she told me was that she had to go hunting. I attempted to stop her and understand what she meant, but trouble eventually landed at our door as Aneira arrived at our cottage. I had gone stiff with fear as your mother’s eyes narrowed while Aneira bowed and told me that Aven was expecting her prince.
The shock of facing a Crochan so easily made Lothian hesitate and she faced me with distrust in her eyes. I held her gaze as I told the other witch to leave. I let my mate slash at me, to draw my blood and taste it. It hurt to see her bare her iron teeth, more than knowing she was Ironteeth herself.
I was going to let her kill me, I told her as much, but she fought against her instincts - perhaps because she loved me too, perhaps because she felt our cariad bond. But she only backed away and told me to forget everything, forget her, and move on.
I spent a miserable three weeks in the outpost to the north after she left. I cannot remember much of that time. But then she returned. She told me she followed our bond and had made sure I was away from other witches before she struck me in the face and told me she was expecting.
I thank whatever gods made her find me, even when I might never meet you, just knowing you existed was a blessing in itself. Knowing what you meant for this world. Our child of peace. That is what we called you. I decided to tell your mother everything, and she patiently listened to everything I said. I told her about my role as prince, about the bonds, about what you would mean for us and our respective covens.
I had never seen her crying, but your mother told me she had always been ‘weak’ with her emotions. It was the reason the Matron had sent her so far north, because she was a shame to the Blackbeaks, because her eyes were not dark and speckled with gold. If only she believed me when I said she was the strongest out of all.
If only she had not feared and gone back to your grandmother.
I do not blame her. Lothian was hell-bent on keeping you safe. She listened to the prophecies, the visions and legends and threw it all aside. She did not hesitate about taking you back. She wanted her mother’s favor and had always longed for a coven of her own. She was too afraid, too indoctrinated, and I could not stop her.
I heard nothing for a good number of months. I told myself to be patient, to wait until you were born and convince her to stay with me so we could keep you safe and raise you as our future Queen. It was a mistake.
I should have acted, it has been my biggest regret.
She passed suddenly and it was the greatest pain of my life. I had lost my heart and soul and perhaps madness took over because I left the safety of my coven. For once, I became the hunter. After a few months, I found a Blackbeak who had information on your mother. She revealed that Lothian was dead…but that you had lived. That the Matron had finally named an heir. A small witchling with white hair and gold eyes.
I knew it was you, and I had to find you. All your mother wanted was to keep you safe, and I promised myself that I would do the same, or die trying.
It’s been a year now, but I know you are still out there. I have strong evidence to believe I know where you are.
Manon, I will find you, and I hope you never have to see this letter because if you do it means I failed you. If I did please forgive me, please understand that I love you, that your mother loved you. I know you will be a fighter, and I know that you will be the Queen that was promised, despite whatever happened to me. Know that whatever you have done, whatever you call yourself, whatever you had to do to survive and however they try to control you…none of it matters.
You will always be our child of peace, our beautiful Manon, and I know you have already made us proud.
With love,
Liam
Hearing Dorian give voice to her father’s words… Manon had not anticipated the flood of emotions that followed. Of course, she had cried after her first reading. But this time, sharing this with her chosen mate… It was too much.
Dorian laid them back on the grass and held her, running his warm, strong hands over her hair and down her back. Whispering words of love that she returned through their bond, unable to speak them through her tears.
When she eventually twisted around and looked into the sky, it was almost dark, stars becoming visible above the mountain peaks. They sat up to watch the sun drift below the far horizon.
“I wish you could have known them,” Dorian said. A low band of clouds reflected the bright pink and orange rays, with only the sound of wind rustling through the grass around them. It was indeed a beautiful sunset.
She smiled and hugged him closer. “I wish we both could have known them.”
Abraxos shifted behind them, drawing them away from their quiet reverie.
“That reminds me,” Dorian said, nodding back to Abraxos. “If you think he’s ready, we can leave tomorrow to meet up with the others. Over a thousand total, according to Sorrel. Several of the Crochan elders will be with them. Aven insists on coming along. And Annabee. Alastair too, to watch over the wyverns.”
“What of Catrin?” she asked, her brow creased in concern
Dorian shrugged. “He said she told him that he was needed and should go. He agreed.”
She knew what he wanted to ask her, so she saved him the effort. “If they’ve chosen to fight, we can use their help.”
“You’re okay with the civilians tagging along?”
She snorted. “You didn’t see those old witches at the battle. It would be stupid not to include them.” She was quiet for a while, thinking over an idea she’d had while reading her father’s letters. Turning to face him, she said, “There is something else that’s been bothering me though.”
“Tell me.”
“We need to discuss what happens after. If we win. If the witches are to risk their lives, we must have equal say in what peace looks like in Erilea.” Her conviction wavered slightly as she said, “I’m not sure if the others will agree to that.”
Dorian stared at her solemnly, knowing who she meant. Not just Aelin and Aedion, or Ansel. Neither of them knew on which side the Ytgers of Eyllwe would fall. Let alone whoever might end up ruling the other countries and territories of Erilea. “You don’t think uniting with the humans against Erawan will resolve the prejudice they have against witches.”
Manon sighed. “Neither side is blameless. But how likely is it that any alliance we form will hold up after a victory?”
Dorian admitted he didn’t know, but agreed it was something they needed to address sooner rather then later. Which left them to develop a plan for negotiations with the other players, including Petrah and the Crochans. Strategies to ensure the livelihood of the witch clans long after this war was over.
By the light of Dorian’s magic, they talked and carefully gathered her parent’s mementos. Abraxos was anxious to get into the sky, and stay there for a while, so they took a quick trip over the foothills before returning to camp.
And that night, despite the long day of travel awaiting them, and the endless worries of war, and now peace, Manon slept. But, it was not a dreamless sleep. When she woke just before dawn, still wrapped in Dorian’s arms, Manon had fleeting memories of a laughing, blue-eyed witch accepting a small bouquet of roses from her dark-haired mate.
“Are you ready?” Dorian asked, his breath frosting in the early morning air. He reached into his coat again to check on the wyrdkey hidden there. Annabee, now perched behind Fallon, had one secured in her pocket. And riding with Sorrel, Aven carried the third.
They’d decided on this arrangement when they took the keys from the safety of Mala’s Temple at dawn. One person keeping all three keys left them too vulnerable. Not just to enemy attack. Three wyrdkeys in the hands of a single, powerful magic wielder was dangerous, Aven had said. A risk better left until the moment the keys must be used.
Manon turned into the wind and stared out across the tundra, trying to envision the world her parents had dreamed of. The world they wanted her to help create. A united witch kingdom.
Twisting around towards the mountains separating them from Terrasen, she thought of a new dream. A vision of a witch kingdom existing peacefully with the rest of Erilea. Thriving with Erilea.
Neither was going to be easy.
She may have been born a child of peace but she must go to war first. To protect those she loved, whose numbers seemed to grow with each passing day. And to defend those who could not defend themselves. She would do it for her parents and their shared dream. And for the dream she and Dorian now shared.
She smiled down at where he stood, still fidgeting with his clothes. “Me? Do you require a formal invitation Princeling?”
Smirking in reply, Dorian climbed onto Abraxos and settled easily into the saddle behind her. When his hands slid around her waist, she took hold of his forearm and pulled so there was no space between them.
“Hold on to me,” she breathed.
Dorian squeezed and whispered into her ear, “I’m never letting go Witchling.”
Manon turned to him with a smile, their bright eyes locking for a long moment before she kissed him. “Good.”
#manorian#manon blackbeak#dorian havilliard#manorian fanfiction#child of peace#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#tog#tog fanfiction#empire of storms#Blackbeak witches#crochan witches#abraxos#abraxos floof#my writing#@itach-i writing
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
part 1/?
i don't know how confidently i can say that i believed in fate growing up.
sure, i could understand that things sometimes just...fell into place. life worked like that, and there wasn't always something you could do about it.
i don't believe in fate. didn't. i'm not so sure.
life has a funny way of changing your mind.
i'm very much the kind of person that will happily tune out the rest of the world, as it tends to be ugly in a way that i would rather not be involved in. unless i can help it, and in most cases i can't.
i say this because throughout my time at school, growing up, in life in general, i am very secluded. unless you make yourself known in my immediate vicinity, bring yourself to my attention, i'll never know you exist. no offense meant, i just don't spare extra energy into looking outside of my personal bubble.
i didn't know who she was.
i'm sure i knew of her, that she was, indeed, a person. in my grade, in my town.
but walking into that chemistry class in sophomore year, we were most definitely strangers.
i don't know what it was about her that caught my attention, and i still couldn't tell you if you asked. i really don't know. but when i ended up assigned in a hard plastic seat next to her, i won't say that i minded.
because i didn't.
at first i thought it was just that i wanted to be friends with her. i remember distinctly thinking that at the time, "I really want to be friends with this girl." i didn't have any reason to suspect anything more from myself.
as far as i knew, i was straight, and i loved my boyfriend.
so i didn't have a problem with talking to her. there was no shyness on my end, because to me it wasn't anything more than wanting to be her friend.
i didn't pay attention to a single detail in that class other than the way she has dimples when she smiles, and her eyelashes are so long they reach up to brush her lenses when she blinks.
to this day, i know next to nothing about chemistry.
she was funny, awkward, shy and captivating. from anyone else i wouldn't have bothered. i don't fall into those circles, and i never have. we weren't the same, but somehow she still understood things when i didn't speak, she knew how to talk when i didn't, she just knew.
i remember admiring her for her courage.
she was so afraid, and i could see it. fear was buried deep in the set of her shoulders and rested behind every smile, and even when she couldn't meet my eyes i knew it was there.
i had grown up very sheltered, i'll freely admit that. my trauma falls in a far different category than hers.
i didn't know what she was afraid of, but i remember hating it with more passion than i'd ever felt in my entire life.
what had caused such a beautiful person to be so closed off? so timid in every move she made, reduced her to the dark circles that hollowed out her eyes and made her whole body lock up at the slam of a door or a scrape of a chair?
then i found her social media.
i don't remember being surprised; it actually brought a smile to my face when i found out.
very openly, she was LGBT. in smalltown, backroad-filled, conservative-dominant, redneck territory.
bisexual, she said. i never asked her, mostly just stalked her social media. because after finding that out, for some reason, i got nervous.
like i said, i'd grown up sheltered. in my mind, all that existed were gay, lesbian, and straight. that was it.
bisexuality...what was that?
big trouble, apparently.
all of a sudden, everything was starting to make sense. the special attention i paid to her, how much she occupied my mind, why i looked forward to the absolute worst class of the day just to spend time next to her.
i'm not proud of myself.
i panicked. i had a boyfriend, and i loved him. right? he was a football player with a spot on varsity, i was on the school dance team and attended every one of his games, we were 'the couple'.
but i remember how hollow i felt inside about it. i'd ignored it because i had no comparison.
but now i did, and i didn't know what to do.
our seats changed, and that, i figured, was that.
i didn't talk to her. i blocked her out without being too obvious, smiling if we made eye contact in the hallway and speeding up my steps to convince myself that the racing of my heart was caused from the exercise.
my heart didn't take it well.
i started pulling away from my boyfriend, however unintentionally. i wanted him to understand, to know what i was feeling, to help me. i even tried telling him i was bisexual, however tentatively. i was trying it on for size, so to speak.
he took it in stride, and just as i was relaxing, asked if that meant we could have threesomes.
confused, scared, i just laughed it off.
after i'd said it out loud, i figured that as long as i knew what it was, i could allow myself to appreciate her from a distance. after all, it happens, right?
people get massive, confusing, even terrifying crushes all the time. i wasn't special. i just had a boyfriend.
but then i didn't.
a week before our first year, he finally deemed to tell me that he didn't love me anymore.
.
.
.
i wasn't okay.
a month or so after, i decided, "hey, fuck being sad. i'm gonna look hot as hell and make him miss what he doesn't have anymore."
not a bad idea, mostly just bad timing.
i'd never been sexually assualted in my life. never thought about it, considered how much it would ruin how i thought of myself.
ironically, i remember almost laughing as i realized that while i had been seeking attention when i got dressed that morning, and i'd certainly gotten it, it had been from the wrong person.
i couldn't get the words to leave my throat to tell anyone.
i had no excuse not to go to school. not one i could say.
for why i hurt so badly the next morning. for why that new outfit that i'd gotten in San Antonio was now buried in the bottom drawer in my dresser and would remain there for years.
for why i wanted to wither away.
so i went to school.
i remember nothing of that day, save for small moments. it passed by in a blur, and i couldn't have cared less for what i was surely missing in my classes. i might as well have stayed home, for all the work i was getting done.
then came chemistry.
every six weeks or so, our seats were changed. just so happened, i was sitting next to this girl again. initially, it had excited me even as i'd wanted to run away from her, from what she made me feel.
that day, i couldn't have cared less.
i went in and sat down, couldn't make my mind focus on a damn thing, didn't even bother to pretend to be paying attention. i don't remember anyone giving me a second thought, which just goes to show how much people really don't give a shit, i guess.
the bell rang, and that was it. time for another class.
i got up, but something fell to the floor as i dragged my arms across the table from where i'd had my head buried in them.
bending down to pick it up, i realized it was a note.
a corner from a piece of notebook paper, hastily folded in half and most likely tucked beneath my left elbow.
i think i looked up to see if she was still there, a spark of hope in my chest dying as quickly as it formed when i saw the way she was hurrying to edge out the door.
mildly disappointed but shrugging it off because, hey, i shouldn't care, and i didn't. i didn't.
i didn't.
i just grabbed my stuff and left the room, headed for my next class which happened to be english. i'd been dreading that class, because my teacher was prone to noticing if something was wrong with me and made a point to ask me what was wrong. i didn't know what i was going to tell her.
on the way, i opened the note after debating whether or not i should. i had no idea what it could be; we didn't exactly talk that much anymore.
the words made me stop dead in the middle of the hallway, unable to force my feet another step.
there, scrawled in her messy writing, were the words
"i know you're not okay, and it's okay to not be okay.
keep your head up, princess. your tiara is falling."
something i could have read off of tumblr and not given a shit about. it honestly made me think of those 'justgirlythings' posts. which i thought were ridiculously pointless and stupid.
it almost pissed me off, like, what the fuck? what does that even mean? i was perfectly fine, who was she to say that i wasn't?
it was cheesy as hell.
i just stood there rereading this stupid note in a quickly diminishing crowd, ignoring people's ugly looks tossed my way as i dared to stand in their way and make them walk around me. it wasn't until something dropped onto the paper that i jolted back into awareness and watched in almost morbid fascination as my tear made the ink from her words bleed along the page, like some kind of poison spreading through veins.
the parallels were bittersweet.
sound slowly returned to me, and i realized someone was calling my name. i looked up to see my english teacher looking at me with concern, and i must've been a sight; tears running in a free fall down my face, dark and baggy clothes that i'd clearly slept in, hair a mess from yanking at it in some kind of sick self-punishment.
i left.
went straight to a bathroom and cried until i made myself sick, my eyes so raw i was almost afraid they'd bleed, if that really happened or if it was just in the movies, my hands just clutching this stupid fucking note that didn't even make sense to me.
who was she to tell me i wasn't okay? to accept me that i wasn't, like there was anything about me to even fucking accept. i was just fine.
so who was she?
i ended up going home, telling my parents everything.
i never really got to properly thank her for it, not really. i'm not sure how well i could actually express it. but i tried.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hyperallergic: Getting Comfortable with Sexy and Silly Art
Jason Pickleman, “SEX” (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic)
CHICAGO — I’ve been thinking about growing up as a first-generation Taiwanese American in suburban San Diego. I left for school and came back smug, telling my family the places I’d been, the people I’d met, the art I’d seen — and became frustrated when they didn’t care or couldn’t understand. I always wanted to forget that San Diego suburb, and forget those Asian American traditions that I thought stifled one’s inability to comprehend the culture and politics of art. But SEX, an exhibition in one of those places I’ve been since I left San Diego — Chicago’s Lawrence & Clark gallery — features works that struck me as laughably brash before they slowly revealed their intimacy, pulling the rug out from under my feet. It showed me that the Taiwanese American bubble of an upbringing I had tried so hard to leave behind actually gave me the ground to think about art, that art only means as much as you can bring to it, and that I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss my identity.
SEX is an exhibition that doesn’t follow the structure of one, but that’s because Lawrence & Clark is a gallery that doesn’t adhere to the conventional model either. The art exhibited is all from the collection of Chicago-based graphic designer and gallerist Jason Pickleman, who has been collecting the work of emerging and established artists, most with ties to Chicago, for the last 30 years. SEX changed frequently during my visits over the summer — pieces were moved, added, and taken out; and walls were repainted different colors. Pickleman hangs works salon-style and lets them spill off the walls onto the floor, giving the space an instinctive, stimulating, but snug atmosphere that encourages visitors to get closer and gradually notice the details and connections in and between works.
Installation view of SEX at Lawrence & Clark
SEX came together when Pickleman decided to re-create the titular bold, hot pink sign that hung above Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood’s King’s Road boutique in the mid 1970s, which he first saw in a magazine as a teenager in suburban Chicago. In the gallery, the letters look like they might fall at any minute; vinyl is wrapped tight around beckoning bulges and curves sculpted out of MDF. “SEX” shows how text, simply read or uttered, is sounded out and thus becomes physical and sensual. But the piece isn’t sordid or gratuitous; instead, it boldly proclaims and subverts taboo with punk flair.
Puppies Puppies, “Spaghetti and Condoms” (2015)
The same audacity is present in Puppies Puppies’s “Spaghetti and Condoms” (2015), a sculpture made up of a narrow, rectangular, mirrored pedestal on which a can of Chef Boyardee canned spaghetti and two boxes of Trojan condoms sit. The work is based on an image of a spaghetti-filled condom that strangely went viral on Tumblr in 2014. To write critically or poetically about a mesmerizingly disgusting internet trend seems absurd, but maybe Puppies Puppies appears to have made this piece specifically for this reason: to make art criticism and art history look just a little contrived. The mirrored stand almost disappears as it pulls you in and reflects the space and objects immediately around it. It’s incredibly hard to take a photo of the sculpture without catching a reflection of yourself in it. Normally, by the standards of today’s selfie-focused art, that would be a big plus. But Puppies Puppies wryly satirizes selfie culture by highlighting a viral image too gross, embarrassing, and fetishized to want to be in a photo with.
Detail of Puppies Puppies, “Spaghetti and Condoms” (2015)
Ultimately, “Spaghetti and Condoms” is smart in its subversion. The sculpture slowly reveals itself to be visually simple and beautiful. The royal blue in the Chef Boyardee logo matches the blue on the boxes of Trojans, and the stacked forms appear minimal and confident. I visited on the day Pickleman decided to “finish” the piece by spooning the spaghetti into a condom, and the resulting curved, bloated shape was oddly elegant and restrained. Puppies Puppies asks viewers to suspend their initial disbelief, and questions why we might be so quick to discount the sometimes irrational allure of low or popular culture, while giving art more credibility because it is labeled as such.
Sam Lipp, “Free Hospitals” (2015)
Across the gallery, Sam Lipp’s painting “Free Hospitals” (2015) quietly but assertively balances out “Spaghetti and Condoms” with an equal but opposite reaction. It’s a medium-sized painting with red, green, blue, and black rectangular forms that waver in each corner, with the words “Free Hospitals” placed between them. “Free Hospitals” isn’t even proclaimed — the painting doesn’t read “We should have,” or “There need to be” free hospitals; rather, the text is stated plainly. Each rectangle is mottled with the three other colors in the work; little specks of paint stand up ever so slightly, like the polyester on a paint roller left out to dry. The shapes and words hover beneath this thin, gauzy sheen of paint that appears rough and abrasive — like you’d skin your knee on the surface if you fell on it. “Free Hospitals” appears sad and gentle at first, but is actually quite cutting, especially when the simple idea of “Free Hospitals” — ie. basic health care — seems so far out of reach.
Cameron Clayborn, “Coagulate 1” (2017)
“Free Hospitals” works in layers, first eliciting a gentle appreciation that builds into a devastating, melancholic wash. It resonates with the rest of the work in SEX, which seems to focus on the subtle intimacy that can be drawn out of art. In this regard, Cameron Clayborn’s sculpture “Coagulate 1” (2017) is patient, proud, and sensual, but never vulgar. “Coagulate 1” features 10 dark brown, tan, and gray leather and felt sacks in varying heights in front of a mint green wall. Some forms stand erect, some fall limply, some are rolled over and scrunched into each other, but they all touch, the wrinkled leather and soft felt rubbing up against each other. Visible stitching crawls up the sides of these carefully handmade forms, and some are sealed at their tops with sharp, rusted, threatening metal clamps.
Matt Stole, “Modernist Phallus” (2005)
The rest of the works in SEX likewise mix humor and thoughtful critique. If much of modernism has been about macho male bravado, Matt Stole dismantles its ego with “Modernist Phallus” (2005), a drawing of just those words, austerely inscribed in pencil on an Art Institute of Chicago letterhead, ultimately erasable. Sterling Lawrence’s “Casting Elbows” (2015) features an abstract, awkwardly-shaped, and flesh-colored body part — is it a sex toy? — protruding from a small, burnished metal square. Out of any clear context, the elbow looks curiously uncomfortable and unsexy.
Several years ago, I would have ignored SEX. I would have been annoyed by the work, likely because of my Asian upbringing, which championed a serious, reticent, and demure work ethic above all else. There was no time for brashness, or silliness — my dad certainly didn’t see the point 35 years ago when he moved to San Diego alone to go to school, nor does he see it now, waking up at 6am six days a week to open up the family print shop. Though my parents did not and still do not understand the work I’m interested in, they support me the best they can. Indeed, if growing up Taiwanese American has taught me anything, it’s to do your job, but still be respectful of difference; to be silently and individually proud of identity, and never to engage in negative, aggressive arguments.
To be sure, there are problems with the conservative submissiveness that is part of my cultural inheritance, but it has also encouraged me to strive for patience in the face of difference. And so, even though SEX initially made me uncomfortable with its flagrant absurdity, it challenged me to take my time. SEX pulls you in with an awkward recklessness that eventually gives way to a woozy intimacy, reminding you how raw and personal art can get.
Sterling Lawrence, “Casting Elbows” (2015)
SEX continues at Lawrence & Clark (4755 North Clark Street, Chicago, Illinois) through October 1.
The post Getting Comfortable with Sexy and Silly Art appeared first on Hyperallergic.
from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2yHIC9P
via IFTTT
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
lawdtl
No Shit
siddd-sid
SID
finger-my-soul
I have been day dreaming my whole life.
aconitte-art
Aconitte
koss-moss
Без названия