#i really like how ash in particular came out in the new version :) so friendly and happy!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tracingavantgardeinfluences · 3 years

Quote

This is the sound of dancing architecture “I get to corner Ralf Hütter in a cluttered backwater of EMI house, for a conversational nexus in which we poke theories at each other through the language barrier… Frank Zappa said “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” This is the sound of dancing architecture…“ An interview with Ralf Hütter by Andrew Darlington, 1981 (the taped conversation is written up later). Red man. Stop. Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier. Green man. Go. People respond, regulated by the mechanical switch of coloured lights. Crossing the Pelican towards EMI House it’s easy to submerge in a long droning procession of Kraftwerkian images, pavement thick with lumbering showroom dummies reacting to Pavlovian stimuli, parallel lines of thruways, multi-legged ferroconcrete skyways, gloss-front office-blocks waterfalling from heaven, individuality drowned, starved to extinction, etc, etc. This could get boring. This could be cliché. Ideas prompt unbidden, strategies of sending my cassette recorder on alone to talk to the Kraftwerk answering machine. That’s Kraftwerk, isn’t it? I got news for you. It ain’t. Ralf Hütter (electronics and voice) is neat, polite, talks quietly with Teutonic inflection, and totally lacks visible cybernetic attachments. He’s dressed in regulation black — as per stereotype — slightly shorter than me which makes him five-foot-eight-inches, or perhaps nine, hair razored sharp over temples not to allow traces of decadent side-burns. Shoes are black, but sufficiently scuffed to betray endearingly human imperfections. He walks up and down reading review stats thoughtfully provided by EMI’s press division. Seems it’s a good review in The Times? Strong on technical details… yes? "No. The writer says we play exactly as on the records, which is not so.” He is evidently chagrined by this particular line of criticism, which is an interesting reaction. I file it for reference. But then again he’s just got up and come direct from his hotel. He wants breakfast. Coffee and cakes. An hour or so to talk to me, then down to Oxford for the dauntingly exacting Kraftwerk sound check rituals. The other Kraftwerkers — Florian Schneider (voice and electronics), Karl Bartos and Wolfgang Flür (both electronic percussion) are otherwise occupied. So every vowel must count. I extend a tentative theory. The image Kraftwerk project of modernity, it seems to me, is largely derived from twenties and thirties originals: the Futurist dedication to movement and kinetic energy; the Bauhaus emphasis on clean, strictly functional lines; the Fritz Lang humans-as-social-ciphers thing. Even an album ‘inspired’ by Soviet Constructivist El Lissitzky with all the machine-art connotations that implies. Doesn’t Hütter find this contradictory? “No. In the twenties there was Futurism in Italy, Germany, France. Then in the thirties it stopped, retrograded into Fascism, bourgeois reactionary tendencies, in Germany especially…” And time froze for forty years. Until the Kraftwerk generation merely picked up the discarded threads, carried on where they’d left off. After the war “Germany went through a period with our parents who were so obsessed with getting a little house, a little car, the Volkswagen or Mercedes in front, or both All these very materialistic orientations turning Germany into an American colony, no new idea were really happening. We were like the first generation born after the war, so when we grew up we saw that all around us, and we turned to other things.” Kissing to life a dormant culture asleep four decades? But computers only print out data they’re programmed with, so working on this already grossly over-extended mechanistic principle I aim to penetrate Kraftwerk motivations. The dominant influences on them then were — what? American Rock? “No.” In that case, do Kraftwerk fit into the Rock spectrum? “No. Anti - Rock'n'Roll.” So their music is a separate discipline? “Yes, in a way, even though we play in places like Hammersmith. We are more into environmental music.” So if not Rock, then what? — Berio? Stockhausen? “Yes and no. We listened to that on the radio, it was all around. Especially the older generation of electronic people, the more academic composers — although we are not like that. They seem to be in a category within themselves, and only circulating within their own musical family. They did institutional things — while we are out in the streets. But I think from the sound, yes. From the experimenting with electronics, definitely. The first thing for us was to find a sound of Germany that was of our generation, that was the first records we do. First going into sound, then voices. Then we went further into voices and words, being more and more precise. And for this we were heartily attacked.” He mimics the outrage of his contemporaries — “You can’t do that… Electronics? What are you doing? Kraftwerk? German group — German name? It’s stupid. Music is Anglo-American — it has to be, even when it is in Germany.” The incredulity remains: “Still today, you know. Can you imagine? — German books with English titles, German bands singing English songs. It’s ridiculous!” Of course it is. But didn’t the Beatles do some German-language records at one time? “Sure” shrugs Hütter, friendly beyond all reasonable expectations. “They were even more open than most of the Germans…” I’d anticipated some mutual incomprehensibility interface with his broken English and my David Hockney Yorkshire. You find the phrasing strange? I’ll tell you… when the possibility of doing this interview first cropped up I ransacked my archives and dug out everything on Kraftwerk I could find. Now it occurs to me that each previous press chat-piece, from Creem to Melody Maker, have transposed Herr Hütter’s every utterance into perfect English. Which is not the case. His eloquence is daunting, but it inevitably has very pronounced Germanic cadences. Sometimes he skates around searching for the correct word, other times he uses the right word in the wrong context. When he says “we worked on the next album and the next album, and just so on”, it really emerges as “ve vork on ze next album und ze next, und just zo on”. It might be interesting to write up the whole interview tape with that phonetic accuracy, but it would be difficult to compose and impossible to read. Nevertheless, I’m not going to bland out his individuality by disinfecting his speech peculiarities, or ethnically cleansing his phrases entirely… But now he’s in flight and I’m chasing, trying to nail down details. In my head it’s now turn of the decade — sixties bleeding into the seventies, and this thing is called Krautrock. Oh, wow! Hard metallic grating noises, harder, more metallic, more grating and noisier than Velvet Underground, nihilistic Germanic flirtations with the existential void. Amon Düül II laying down blueprints to be electro-galvanised into a second coming by PiL, Siouxsie & The Banshees and other noise terrorists. Cluster. Faust. Then there is the gratuitous language violence of Can, sound that spreads like virus infection from Floh de Cologne and Neu, and Ash Ra Temple who record an album with acid prophet and genetic outlaw Timothy Leary. Was there a feeling of movement among these bands? A kinship? “No.” One note on the threshold of audibility, shooting down fantasies. “In Germany we have no capital. After the war we don’t have a centre or capital anymore. So instead we have a selection of different regional cultures. We — Kraftwerk — come from industrial Düsseldorf. But Amon Düül II came from Munich, which has a different feeling. Munich is quite relaxed. There’s a lot of landscape around.” Now for me it’s not just some off-the-top-of-the-head peripheral observation, but the corner-stone of my entire musical philosophy that this affable German is effortlessly swotting, and I’m not letting him off lightly. I restate histories carefully. American Rock'n'Roll happened in 1954 — Memphis, Sun Studios. From there it spread in a series of shock waves, reaching and taking on the regional characteristics of each location it hit. By the mid-sixties a distinctive UK variant had come into being, identifiably evolving out of exposure to US vinyl artefacts, but incontrovertibly also home-grown. Surely Krautrock was evidence that Germany had also acquired its own highly individual Rock voice? It seems to me there is a common feeling, a shared voice among these diverse groups. But he’s not buying. You don’t think so? “No. At least not as far as we were concerned.” When they started out they recorded in German-language. „We always record in German” he corrects emphatically. „Then we do — like in films, synchronised versions for English. The original records are all German, but we also do French, and now Japanese versions. We are very into the internationalist part.” Continuing this trans-Europe theme he suddenly suggests „Britain is a very historical society. The Establishment. The hierarchy. We come here and we feel that immediately. On the one hand you have this very modern…” he tails off. Starts again, „it’s a schizophrenic country, a modern people, new music and everything, but on the other hand the… how can I say it, a theatrical establishment.” I retaliate, yes — but surely it could equally be argued that all Europe forms a common cultural unit attempting to survive between the historic power-block forces of the USA and the old Soviet Union? Indeed, to journalist Andy Gill, Kraftwerk’s music is „promoting the virtues of cybernetic cleanliness and European culture against the more sensual, body-orientated nature of most Afro-American derived music” (‘Mojo’s August 1987). Europe shares a common heritage uniting Britain, Germany and France, which are all being subtly subverted by a friendly invasion of American Economic and McCultural influences, movies, records, clothes? Witter himself once said „in Germany, Pop music is a cultural import”. „Yes, I know. Certainly when we came to Birmingham (England) we thought it was similar to Düsseldorf. There’s no question. But in Germany it happens even more though, because here in England at least you notice, you know the language and everything. In Germany they don’t notice, it was just taken over.” I’d always considered the German language to be a defence against foreign influence. It was far easier for mainstream British culture to be accessed, and infiltrated because of a common American-English language. In France, for example, the Government is actively resisting the 'Anglicisation’ of their language through 'Franglaise’, because they rightly see its corruption as the thin end of the wedge. “Maybe. That should be checked. But you, together with the Americans had another situation to start with. After the war, Germany was finished. I’m not saying why or whatever, that’s OK. But when I grew up we used to play around the bomb-fields and the destroyed houses. This was just part of our heritage, part of our software. It was our education and cultural background…” The spectre of Basil Fawlty springs unbidden. Earlier an entirely innocent question about Kraftwerk’s origins had dislodged similar sentiments. He’d spoken of Germany’s Fascist years — “in Germany especially, that’s what I mostly knew about, then all the (artistic / creative) people emigrated, Einstein had to leave, and everybody knows the reasons. And then only after the war — he came back. But I think Germany went through a period, with our parents, who had never had anything. They went through two wars…” Breakfast becomes manifest. Mushroom quiche — no meat — followed by a choice of apricot or apple flan, plus two coffees. I sit opposite him, tape machine on the floor between us picking up air, the windows of EMI House blanding out over the trees of Manchester Square. I’m marshalling scores. So for, not content with winning each verbal exchange hands down, Ralf Hütter has also squashed each of my most cherished illusions about Krautrock. But on the plus side, massive giga-jolts of respect are due here. Long before the world had heard of Bill Gates or William Gibson, when Silicon Valley was still just a valley and mail had yet to acquire its 'e’ pre-fix, Kraftwerk were literally inventing and assembling their own instruments, expanding the technosphere by rewiring the sonic neural net, and defining the luminous futures of what we now know as global electronica. So perhaps it’s time to probe more orthodox histories? It seems to me there are two distinct phases to Kraftwerk’s career. Or perhaps even three. The first five years devoted purely to experimental forays into synchromeshed avant-electronics, producing the batch of albums issued in Britain through Vertigo — Kraftwerk in 1972, Ralf Und Florian the following year, the seminal Autobahn in 1974, and the compilation Exceller 8 in 1975. Then they switch to EMI, settle on a more durable line-up and the subsequent move into more image-conscious material, a zone between song and tactile atmospherics. The third, and current phase, involves a long and lengthening silence. "No, it wasn’t like that” says Hütter. “It was…” his hand indicates a level plane. 'There was never a break. It was a continual evolution. We had our studios since 1970, so we always worked on the next album, and the next album, and so on. I think Düsseldorf therefore was very good because we brought in other people, painters, poets, so that we associated ourselves with…“ his sometimes faulty English — interfacing with my even more faulty German — breaks down. The words don’t come. So he switches direction. “Also we had some classical training before that [Ralf and Florian met at the Düsseldorf Conservatory], so we were very disciplined.” Others in this original extended family of neo-Expressionist electro-subversives included Conny Plank (who was later to produce stuff for Annie Lennox’ The Tourists, and Ultravox), Thomas Homann and Klaus Dinger (later of Neu), artist Karl Klefisch (responsible for the highly effective Man Machine sleeve), and Emil Schult (who co-composed Trans-Europe Express). In the subsequent personnel file, as well as Hütter, there is Florian Schneider who also operates electronics and sometimes robotic vocals. While across the years of their classic recordings they are set against Karl Bortos and Wolfgang Flür who both manipulate electronic percussion. I ask if they always operate as equal partners. “Everybody has their special function within the group, one which he is good at and likes to do the most.” It was never just Ralf und Florian plus a beatbox rhythm section? “No. It’s just that we started historically all that time ago and worked for four years with about twenty percussionists, and they would never go into electronics, so we had to step over, banging away and things like that. And then Wolfgang came in.” With that sorted out I ask if he enjoyed touring. „Yes, basically, because we don’t do it so often. But we also enjoy working in our studios in Düsseldorf, we shouldn’t tour too much otherwise… we get lost somewhere, maybe! We get too immunised. When you have too much you must shut down because you get too many sounds and visions from that tour. For the first five years we toured always in Germany on the Autobahns — that’s where that album came from. Since 1975 we do other countries as well.” They first toured the USA in March 1975, topping the bill over British Prog-Rockers Greenslade, then — leaving an American Top Thirty hit, they went on to play eight British dates in June set up for them by manager Ira Blacker. How much of that early music was improvised? Was the earlier material 'freer’? Kraftwerk numbered Karl Klaus Roeder on violin and guitar back then, so are the newer compositions more structured? „No. We are going more… now that we play longer, work longer than ten years, we know more and every afternoon when we are in the Concert Hall or somewhere in the studio we just start the machines playing and listen to this and that. Just yesterday we composed new things. Once in Edinburgh we composed a new piece which we even included in that evening’s show. New versions on old ideas. So we are always working because otherwise we should get bored just repeating. And it’s not correct what he (the hostile gig reviewer) was saying — that we play on stage exactly like we sound on the record. That’s complete rubbish. It means people don’t even notice and they don’t listen. They go instead over to the Bar for a drink! We, our music is very basic, the compositions are never complex or never complicated. More sounds — KLINK! KLUNK!! Metallic sound. We go for this sound composition more than music composition. Only now they are thematically more precise than they were before.” After so long within the genre don’t they find electronics restricting? „No, just the opposite.” Words precise with the sharp edge of Teutonic resonance. „We can play anything. The only restrictions we do find are, like in writing, as soon as you have a paper and pen — or a computer or a cassette recorder and a microphone, and you bring ideas, you find the limitation is in what you program rather than what is in the microphone or the cassette. You — as a writer, writing this interview, can’t say that the piece you are writing is not good because the word processor did not pick out the right words for you. It’s the same with us. If we make a bad record it’s because we are not in a good state of mind.” Change of tack. There’s a lot of Kraftwerkian influence around. Much of current electro-Dance seems to be plugged directly into the vaguely 'industrial’ neuro-system that Hütter initially delineated, while dedicated eighties survivalist cults Depeche Mode and Human League also have Kraftwerk DNA in their gene-code. He nods sagely. “There’s a very good feeling in England now. It was all getting so… historical.” Is the same thing happening in Germany now? Is there a good Rock scene there? “No. But New Music (Neu Musik).” Hütter’s opinions on machine technology have been known to inspire hacks of lesser literary integrity to sprees of wild Thesaurus-ransacking adjectival overkill, their vocabularies straining for greater bleakness, more clone-content, 'Bladerunner’ imagery grown bloated and boring through inept repetition. And sure, Kr-art-werk is all geometrical composition, diagonal emphasis, precision honed etc, but their imagery is not entirely without precedent. Deliberately so. Their 'Man-Machine’ album track “Metropolis” obviously references German Fritz Lang’s 1926 proto-SF Expressionist movie. The sleeve also acknowledges the 'inspiration’ of Bauhaus constructivist El Lissitzky. I went on to hazard the connections with German modern classical music bizorro Karlheinz Stockhausen — particularly on Kraftwerk’s Radio-Activity album, where they use the 'musique concrete’ technique of surgical-splicing different sounds together from random areas. Radioland uses drop-in short-wave blips, bursts and static twitterings, Transistor has sharp pre-sample edits, alongside the pure found-sound audio-collage The News. A technique that resurfaces as late as Electric Cafe, where The Telephone Song is made up of 'phone bleeps and telecommunication bloopery. He’s familiar with the input. Immediately snaps back the exact location of the ideas — Kurzwellen, from Stockhausen’s back-catalogue. And what about the aural applications of Brion Gysin/William Burroughs’ literary cut-up experiments? Is there any interaction there? “Maybe” he concedes. “'Soft Machine’, contact with machines. But we are more Germanic.” He pauses, then suggests “we take from everywhere. That’s how we find most of our music. Out of what we find in the street. The Pocket Calculator in the Department Stores.” The music is the message — 'the perfect Pop song for the tribes of the global village’ as Hütter once described it. The medium and the form? “If the music can’t speak for itself then why make music? Then we can be writers directly. If I could speak really everything I want with words then I should be working in literature, in words. But I can’t, I never can say anything really, I can’t even hardly talk to the audience. I don’t know what to say. But when we make music, everything keeps going, it’s just the field we are working in, or if we make videos we are more productive there.” I quote back from an interview he did with Q magazine in July 1991 where he suggests that traditional musical skills are becoming increasingly redundant. “With our computers, this is already taken care of,” he explains. “So we can now spend more time structuring the music. I can play faster than Rubenstein with the computer, so it [instrumental virtuosity] is no longer relevant. It’s getting closer to what music is all about: thinking and hearing.” So technology should be interpreted as a potentially liberating force? “Not necessarily. I don’t always find that. Dehumanising things have to be acknowledged. Maybe if you want to become human, first you have to be a showroom dummy, then a robot, and maybe one day…” An expressive wave. “People tend to overestimate themselves. I would never say I am very human. I still have doubts. I can project myself as a semi-god. I can do that. The tools exist for me to achieve that. But I’d rather be more modest about this, about our real function in this society, in these blocks here,” indicating out through the plate glass, across the square, to the city towers of finance and global commerce beyond. “People overestimate themselves. They think they are important. They think they are human.” I’m out of synchronisation again. Surely, if people have to extricate themselves from the machinery they have created, to become human, then it’s due to the imperfections of the technology — not the people. Machines are intended to serve, if they do otherwise, they malfunction. “Not so. They should not be the new slaves. We are going more for friendship and co-operation with machines. Because then, if we treat them nice, then they treat us nice. You know, there are so many people who go in for machines, who when you come to their homes their telephones are falling to pieces, their music centres don’t function, the television set is ruined. But if you take care of your machines then they will live longer. They have a life of their own. They have their own life-span. They have a certain hour of duration. There are certain micro-electronics which work a thousand hours. Then there is a cassette recorder battery which operates ten or twelve hours.” The mentality you oppose, then, is that of conspicuous consumption, planned obsolescence, the psychology of 'a spoilt child’? “The energy crisis, the whole thing is a result of thinking that everything is there, we just have to use it, take this, and — PTOOOOFFF! — throw it away. But make sure that the neighbours see! This whole attitude of disassociating oneself from machines — humans here and machines over there. When you work so much with machines — as we do — then you know that has to change.” Earlier he’d spoken of growing up 'playing around the bomb-fields and destroyed houses’ in the wake of WWII, so this respect for material possessions is perhaps understandable. But he sees beyond this. He sees machines having the potential to free people physically from unnecessary labour, and culturally to create whole new thinking. “I mean — where is my music without the synthesiser? Where is it?” The music, the intelligence, is in your head. Without that the synth is just….“ "Yes, bringing it about! The catalyst. We are partners. We two can together make good music, if we are attuned to each other.” But you could operate another instrument. The vehicle you use is incidental. You could walk out this building, buy a new synth here in London, and play it just as well as your own equipment in Düsseldorf. “Yes. That is because I have this relationship with this type of thing.” I’m reproducing this exactly as it happens, and still I’m not exactly sure what he’s getting at. Perhaps something is lost in the language gap. Like earlier, he’d said “I would never say I am very human” and I’d accepted it first as role playing — until he’d made it obvious that he equates 'becoming human’ with 'achieving freedom’. Humanity is something that has to be earned. You can’t be robot and human. But this is not a natural conversation. This is on interview. A marketing exercise designed to sell Kraftwerk records by projecting certain consumer-friendly imagery. He is playing games, and this cyber-spiel is what journalists expect from Kraftwerk? But to Ralf Hütter there seems to be more to it than that. He believes what he is saying. At least on one level. Some impenetrable levels of ambiguity are at work concerning this alleged relationship to technology. Baffled, I skate around it. What crafty work is afoot for the future? “For me? For Kraftwerk? Well, certain things that I had to remember and memorise and think about are now programmed and stored. So there’s no restriction that we have to rehearse manually. There’s no physical restriction. I can liberate myself and go into other areas. I function more now as software. I’m not so much into hardware. I’m being much more soft now since I have transferred certain thoughts into hardware. That is why we put those two words together Software/Hardware on the album. Because it is like a combination of the two — Man/ Machine — otherwise it would not be happening. We can play anything. Our type of set-up — and group, the studio, the computers and everything. Anything.” So what’s new in electronics, Ralf? “What we find now is like, a revolution in machines. They are bringing back all the garbage now that has been put into them for the last hundred years and we are facing a second, third and fourth Industrial Revolution. Computers. Nano-electronics. Maybe then we come back into Science Fiction? I don’t know.” Then, on inspiration, “there’s another thing coming out. 'Wet-Ware’, and we function also — in a way, as Wet-Ware.” I’m hit by a sudden techno-blur of off-the-wall ideas, imperfectly understood concepts of some electro-erotic wet ’T’-shirt ritual in the pale blue wash of sterile monitors. What is 'Wet-Ware’, Ralf? Spoken with bated breath. And he explains. Like hardware is machines. Software is the data that is fed into them. “Wet-Ware is anything biochemical. The biological element in the machine!” The programmer? I see. Fade into intimations of cybernetic übermensch conspiracies. So with these limitless vistas of techno-tomorrows, Kraftwerk will continue for some time yet? "Yoh. Yes.” Pause, then the laugh opens up, “… until we fall off the stage!” Auf Wiedersehen, Ralf… Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier…

2 notes · View notes

bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Happiness Overload Epilogue III

After a while, we finally won. It took more effort than we were told, but about as much effort as we expected. There was still much ground to cover even after the conflict died down. Like, I hated to admit it, but for a while I would just watch the fragmented remains of the world I once resided on. Meaning, there was a long gestation period where no new timeline was created. There was a lot of weight, y’know, and it was hard to remember the person I started that journey as, and whether I was different now that that journey had just about come to an end.

Beside me, at the front, was my girlfriend, my lover. Sometimes she’d shower me in kisses, but other times she would get annoyed with my antics. Couldn’t say that I blamed her, as it’s not like my growth meant I had to let go of my humor.

As for how we defeated the organization once and for all...we had some help. Some people went back to their time willingly. Some were less friendly. I didn’t really care to remember all those fancy little details. Only a few really stood out to me. Like after we booted Dr. Humble and Dr. Modest into some odd timeline in the year 1907 with just the clothing on their backs. Why 1907? Maybe that’s the time they thought they could pick up the pieces from and start fresh from the ashes, but when they told us that’s the time they were from, we just went with it. At least we gave them nothing.

Then, Coriander and I ran, firing away at guards along the way. There was a bit of a mess to clean up eventually, but that was neither here nor there.

Down some long sets of halls, we regrouped with Juniper, and were surprised to find she had made some new friends. With one in particular seeming rather close to her.

“Juniper! Thank goodness you’re okay!” I cried out in relief.

“Guys! I’m so glad to see you!” Juniper also looked overjoyed.

“Who’s this?” I asked.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hepburn,” the taller figure answered. She extended her hand. I shook it. “I’m from the HR Department. Or was! It’s pretty cool that I can use past tense now!”

“Huh. What was your job, exactly?” Coriander asked.

“I mostly suggested things to departments. Though they usually got twisted and the way they got interpreted was a little out of my hands.”

“Really? How so?”

“Like, I thought we should have a Morale Department because I couldn’t help but notice our members had some pretty low morale. So I brought it up like, ‘hey, right now everyone’s kind of bummed out and demotivated, but I think if we had some kind of mascot, our company morale would be so much better. For example, Hatsune Miku is really popular and it’s a scientific fact that no one’s unhappy when Miku is around. So maybe if we got an AI to encourage us, we’d benefit. The same could be applied to humanity as a whole!’ Then later I guess they added a dash of evil to the proposed AI, but by then I was already suggesting things to other departments.”

“Dang,” I groaned. “Sucks when intentions get misrepresented like that.”

“Yeah, well this place is big so it can be like a giant game of telephone around here. I don’t blame anyone, really! Besides, at least they gave me credit on the project.”

“They did?” I was confused. I never heard of any Hepburn being factored into the plans.

“Well, I was actually named after the Mt. Etna in Italy. I later changed my name when I became a doctor, of course!” She informed me. That sounded like a potential shocker for information, but I didn’t know how.

“There’s a lot to dissect there, but I’m no scientist, so let’s put that aside for now. We still have much work to do!”

Coriander meanwhile, trying to show off her attitude as ever, grunted.

“So are you and her like a thing now?” She asked Juniper.

Juniper rolled her eyes. “Come on, guys! I’m not thinking about that stuff right now! I’m just glad to have made friends! Really!”

“All right. Can’t blame you. We can’t declare victory just yet.”

Indeed. Our reunion had to be cut short so we could round up more people. Thanks to the collective effort, though, at least it didn’t take ages, like many would have thought. I took it upon myself to destroy all time travel devices after someone left. Every little time cube in the room full of time cubes and then some.

All but one.

The same one I had pocketed. On the off chance that Coriander and I could ever leave that ship (or whatever it could be called), I wanted to hold on to it. For a while, we lived out our days on the ship, but we didn’t really seem to age. Not really, anyway. Maybe if we made it back to Earth, some version of it, we would find ourselves aged many years over. Or be just as young as we were before we entered The Flashbulb’s headquarters.

Before long, it was just a few of us. Coriander, Juniper, Dr. Hepburn, Dr. Katsushika (she said she’d leave eventually, it was just hard for her to leave all her art supplies behind), and I. Everyone else parted ways with us in some capacity or another. Many we grew to be friends with, but had to leave them behind all the same. That was fine with me, as a good few people always made me more comfortable than a whole crowd. Even with the company, it really was a lonely existence. Enough to drive anyone mad.

But we kept searching.

I would look around on a screen which displayed a nigh-endless supply of timelines. I narrowed it down to the year we lived in before we left home. Then, I looked for a place where Coriander and I didn’t already exist. At long last one day, I found such a place.

“Oh my god! Spicy! Meatball!”

“For the last time, don’t call me spicy meatball!” Coriander retorted. Yeah, yeah, so not all of my nicknames for her stuck, but I was excited enough to try.

“We can go back home!” I cheered.

Coriander leaned in close. “What?! Really?!”

It was decided long ago that if we ever decided to go back to Earth, it would have to be in a timeline where we didn’t already exist. I didn’t quite like the idea of killing myself off just to live on. I don’t know how it would have worked for Coriander, but she agreed that was for the best. What pained me was thinking that when this new timeline from the ashes of our destroyed world came about, was the uncertainty of not knowing what the version of Blanc would be like. If the version of me in that world would ever meet them or not. I think I would be content even if that Velvet didn’t meet that Blanc, but would I be content with the possibility that the Blanc of the new timeline wouldn’t be happy?

I didn’t want to focus on that. I really didn’t. I had my life, and my journey, and as painful as it was, I had to let such a possibility occur. It was better than no possibility at all.

“Hey Juniper!” I called over through the microphone. “I think I found a way to get home!”

If I had to guess, it was like an hour later when Juniper came through the doors, but time within those confines wasn’t something we really kept track of, as much as I wished we would. She was out of breath, having ran, but she was just as cute as a button as ever.

“Really? Guys?” She huffed, hunched over her knees. Jeez, I really should have told her to take her time.

Time...that was a strange word to use. But one that seemed unavoidable.

“There’s just one problem,” Coriander pointed out. “Apparently Juniper already exists on that version of Earth.”

“What?!” I balked. “That’s not fair!”

Popsigirl/Dr. Katsushika fell down from a ceiling vent and landed doing a cartwheel.

“That’s the way things go! You’re going to have to make a compromise to get your happy ending!” She snapped her fingers and grinned.

“Argh! I hate compromises, and I hate this ‘no perfect ending’ bullshit!” I turned to Juniper. “I wanted you to come along with us wherever we ended up.”

That was enough to get me to sulk. But Juniper just smiled.

“Aw, it’s okay, guys. I think it’s more important that you two get to go. Don’t worry about me!”

“But I’ll feel bad just leaving you behind like that.”

She shook her head. “Don’t think like that! I’m really glad to have met you guys, really. It’s not that I don’t want to return to Earth one day, it’s just that I’m fine with waiting. I always knew we would probably have to split, anyway.”

“What about you, though?”

“Honestly,” she looked away, still smiling, but she looked a little more nervous. “I’m not sure how my journey will continue, and I really will miss you guys, too, but I still consider you guys my friends and I’m more now that one day, I’ll have something of an idea. For now, I’m happy just having gone on this journey.”

“You say that, but I’m still worried about you being safe…”

“Please have a little more faith in me than that.”

I let out a long sigh. There was a handful of emotions attached, but when I drew in a new breath, I managed a smile.

“All right, then,” I said at last.

“So it’s decided, then? You guys are gonna go?” I could feel Dr. Katsushika’s excitement on her breath as she leaned in close to me. I wanted to shove her aside, especially when Coriander still couldn’t stand her presence, not that I blamed her for that, either.

“Not just yet,” I grimaced. “I want to make sure you’ll go home first.”

She flashed a grin, then wrested control of the monitor from me and with fervent motions, searched away until she found a time and place.

“I understand that I can’t really be forgiven for the stuff I’ve put you two through, but I think I’m going to enjoy being with nature again! Maybe I’ll be a sage or something, or take a vow of silence, or become a hermit who feeds ducks?”

“I’m sure you could pick up art again, too,” Juniper suggested. “You just gotta take it easy, is all.”

That got Popsigirl worked up into a storm of laughter.

“Hun, ‘art’ and ‘taking it easy’ don’t belong in the same sentence. But...I’d like to draw and paint, yes. And maybe I’ll get it right in time.”

I used the time travel device to open up a portal to the timeline Dr. Katsushika selected. I wasn’t sure which name she would choose in her timeline. Maybe she’d drop the doctor. Maybe she’d drop having a name entirely. There was a fondness I felt thinking about the possibilities, even if I couldn’t really forgive her.

When five became four (Dr. Hepburn, Juniper, Coriander, and I) I waited for Dr. Hepburn to enter the room, then I bade Juniper and her our final goodbyes.

“Hey, I can’t promise a perfect ending either, but for what it’s worth, I hope you the best,” Coriander told Juniper.

“I second that,” I added. If Coriander didn’t say it, chances are I would have. It was becoming more and more difficult to find the right words, so I was just glad Coriander could sometimes fill in the blanks for me.

“I would like to inform you that I had a board meeting with myself and it was unanimous that whatever happens, we’ll have fun,” Dr. Hepburn assured. I refrained from asking. Really, when you got down to it, she was a last minute character.

Juniper reached into her pocket and handed me something.

“Here, I made it. It’s a little invention of mine.” I looked at the object in my hand, a small metallic sculpture of a beetle.

“I call it a june bug! It can light up in the dark, but only in the month of June! That way you won’t really have to worry about leaving me behind too much.”

I laughed, though it almost came out like a cry. I had to wipe my face, even though it was more humorous than anything.

“That’s so dumb...I love it,” I told her.

I set the time travel device on the desk I had been sitting at. Coriander was the first to walk through the portal. I was sure I’d see her in just a little bit. But before I would, I turned to Juniper and Dr. Hepburn once again.

“If you guys do find a timeline you wished to go to and decide to leave, please destroy that for me. Or, if you decide to stay here...destroy it, too.”

Was it really necessary to do so? I mean, I could trust them, and all access to the headquarters from outside had been blocked off. Still, maybe it was the paranoia in me that told me it was better to be safe than sorry.

Wherever Coriander and I may end up next, with a good, a bad, somewhere in the middle as an ending awaiting us, I was just glad I would be brave enough to face it. No, that wasn’t just it. It meant even more to me to be able to spend the rest of my days, however that looked, not being alone.

#happiness overload #writing #after the end #epilogue #second to last epilogue #four will be the last one #then thats it #no more happiness #its time to calm down #fiction #whatever this story turned out to be #velvet #coriander #story

2 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 5 years

Text

Okay, now that I finally have a minute, I can finally talk about the biggest event of the day:

GEN! 8! REVEAL! FAM!!

In a way, this was not surprising at all. The official Pokémon YouTube channel had been posting promotional videos of all the main regions for the week leading up to today (Pokémon Day), and once a Direct was announced we knew that they would not use that Direct for anything less than Gen VIII. Nintendo and Game Freak have made some questionable decisions in the past, but even they would not be so foolish as to dedicate a Direct to anything but a new set of games, particularly since they’d already promised us Gen VIII would be coming out this year. (Which is why those who are angry that this announcement wasn’t for Sinnoh remakes don’t really make a lot of sense. We were promised brand new core titles for a 2019 release. This couldn’t have been anything but that.) Even so, I am still thrilled by what I saw in the trailer, and I still want to talk about it because I’m so excited.

So:

Pros:

The Region: Some leaks that had come out ages ago suggested that the region could be based off the UK, and I’m so happy to see that was true. (Very little else in the leaks came true, but I’m okay with that, too; Sword and Shield are much better version names than Crown and Scepter.) The region itself looks like it’s going to be beautiful, both in terms of its countryside areas and its urban areas. It reminds me a bit of Unova in that way, how there’s a bit of a divide there, and with that divide emphasized in this reveal trailer, I wonder if that’s going to affect the plot. Either way, I’m truly excited about the region itself, particularly with some of the shots of it that we saw (both interior and exterior) in the trailer.

The Graphics: On that note, the graphics are so nice! There’s so much detail everywhere! In particular I can’t help but think of shots like the library the female trainer was standing in near the end, or the various towns the characters ran through . . . I know some people were hoping for hyper realistic graphics, but that’s never been Pokémon’s style. I’m just glad that these games are so, so much prettier than Let’s Go. I’m so glad all the models and the environment was fixed.

Random Battles are Back In: Speaking of things that were fixed, we can actually train our pokémon again! I was very relieved when I saw that, haha.

Gyms: We’re also back to the Gym system, which is also something of a relief. Honestly, I don’t mind the concept of the Island Trials, but I don’t feel that it was implemented well at all. The Trials themselves were basic and empty, and in many ways felt like watered down Gyms. In USUM it was even worse since you weren’t even allowed to explore during them (and instead had the Captain walking you through the Trials, such as in Mallow’s). Since they weren’t going to get creative with the Trials, I’m glad they’ve scrapped them to go back to the Gym system. Hopefully we’ll get a dark-type Gym this time around.

The Starters: The starters are all so cute! My favorite is Scorbunny (whom I keep calling Scorbunny-bun, haha), but I like Sobble and Grookey as well. Which one I pick will depend on the final evolutions (since I can’t just not look, although I will say I do miss the days of my youth when final evolutions were a surprise and you picked your starter based on first impression), just like which version I get will depend on version differences, but at the moment, if I had to just pick today? It would be Scorbunny. Little soccer bunbun is so cute, I love him. (Sobble would be my second choice, and Grookey my third.)

The Trainers: I LOVE BOTH OF THE TRAINER DESIGNS SO MUCH!! I actually feel like trainer customization might not be back in (more on that in the next section) because we didn’t see any customization in the trailer, and both of the designs are more detailed this time around (whereas the boy design at the least is usually generic in customizable games). But even if we don’t, I’m fine with that. I love both of the designs. I do wish the girl was able to wear pants for the snowy areas, but I love her sweater and her haircut, and the boy’s hat is cute. Really, they’re both fashionable and cute kids. I love them.

The Box Mascots: Of course we know nothing of the legendaries (legendary?) yet, but they look very lupine and I’m excited about that. GIVE ME MY SWORD WOLF, GAME FREAK!!

The Cons:

No Trainer Customization?: We might get a surprise here and that might be back in after all, but right now it looks like it might not be, so that’s a potential con for me.

No Following Pokémon?: Most of the shots that we saw of the gameplay looked empty (for instance, no other NPCs in town shots), so maybe we will get following pokémon and they’re just not able to show that yet. Bu tif we don’t, that’s also something that will make me sad, albeit it’s also something I can live with, haha.

No Pokémon in Overworld: While I am THRILLED that wild battles are back because that’s a deal breaker for me, one thing I actually did like about Let’s Go is that you could see pokémon on the overworld, and I do wish they had implemented that here. But again, I can live with it not being implemented, haha. I’m fine with wild battles, too.

The Miscellaneous:

Professor?: The leaks I talked about earlier mentioned that these games have no professor, and that we instead receive our starters from a princess. No idea if that’s true or not yet, obviously, but if it’s not and we do still have a professor, I want them to be either Poké David Attenborough or Poké Jane Goodall. (And on a related note, if the monarchy is in this game, let me throw down with the queen pls.)

Give Us the Great Galaran Bake Off: You know how each gen has a little side gimmick? Like we had Contests in Gen III, Super Contests in IV, PokéStar Studios in V, and so on? Give us Bake Off in Gen VIII. The Great British Bake Off has popularity that transcends its borders and it would be so great to implement that into these games. The bonus is that when the Galar anime starts up, there can be an episode where Ash somehow makes his way into the tent as a baker (and I say somehow, because you have to audition and everything and prove yourself worthy of being there irl and Ash cannot cook or bake for anything) and then is the first person eliminated because his pastries have soggy bottoms and are not crisp, and also his cakes have overbaked sponges and you cannot see the layers in there at all. (I hope the anime gives us that episode even if we don’t have the gimmick in the games. Come on, PokéAni. Show us the forbidden Poké Mary Berry and Poké Paul Hollywood, along with Poké Mel and Sue.)

Anime’s English Dub: On that note, I both am and am not looking forward to TPCi hiring garbage actors who will absolutely brutalize every single British* accent they have in their cast. If it was 4Kids, I would trust them to hire actors who know what they’re doing. But TPCi? I remember what they did to Alan. I’ll never forget nor will I ever forgive what they did to Alan. They hired a no-name rando off the street who had no talent whatsoever to voice Alan. If they do try to make the Galaran characters British, there is no way those accents will be passable. It will be a travesty. That said, if the PokéAni actually had a good job with a talented cast, I would pay them actual money to make Ash’s female companion have a Cockney or south London accent. I LOVE those accents and I would love to have a character with one on the main cast. They could also give Ash’s male companion (should he have one) a Scottish accent to just complete the whole dynamic and it’d be incredible. Like I know they’d probably go for standard pronunciation, but god what I wouldn’t give for regional accents for an English dub of the Galaran anime. It would be incredible. (*I said British instead of English here because not all British accents are English. Scotland is part of Britain, and therefore a Scottish accent is a British accent, for example. So believe me, I wasn’t conflating British and English; I know the difference, and I was incorporating all of them.)

Unova vs. Galar Rivalry: I want to see some (friendly) rivalry between Unova and Galar, just like those posts from Ye Olde Tumblr where Americans and Brits would get into “fights” over things. Obviously Unova is not the only United States region (Alola and Orre also exist), but it’s the one up in New England, and the one most blatantly American, I feel. It’d be neat to see that in the game. (And on an unrelated note, was Galar the region that warred with Kalos 3,000 years ago? Hmm . . .)

All in all, I’m super excited and I just can’t wait for these games. November can’t come fast enough (and neither can more info, haha)!

#pokemon #feel free to send me asks and stuff about this too guys #i love Pokémon so much I could talk about it all day

17 notes · View notes

firebirdtransam68 · 5 years

Text

Are The Names In Anime Originally Japanese Or English? It All Depends On What You Grew Up With

I am making this post to explain what I have observed from the English-speaking community.

We know many people really like anime, right? We grew up with shows like Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Sonic X, Digimon Adventures, the Transformers Unicron Trilogy, and for much older fans, Voltron, Robotech, Star Blazers, and Battle Of The Planets. The only thing is, these shows, originally in the Japanese language, were dubbed in English because many marketers didn’t think people in America, Canada, or any other English-speaking country would enjoy a foreign show, even if it had English subtitles. The only problem is, many anime shows targeted to younger fans (mainly children) were heavily censored and the dialogue was changed to make it more family-friendly. The upside is, if companies like World Events Productions and 4Kids Entertainment did not dub the shows, we wouldn’t be able to access the original shows with English subtitles, and we can fully understand how Japanese media differ from American, Canadian, or English media.

Anyway, I remember when I was younger watching bits and pieces of Robotech (a mesh of the Super Dimension Fortress Macross trilogy) with my father, who had it on VHS. Then I remember watching a few episodes and movies of Pokemon a little later after I witnessed Robotech. I also remember going to a now-defunct video store where Sonic X was playing (before I even knew the Sonic The Hedgehog franchise). They all shared one thing in common; they were all in the English language. And as I have seen the shows, I noticed at times the mouths do not match the dialogue; and I never understood why the animation was different from media like Disney, Don Bluth, or the Loony Tunes.

I did not know what anime really is until I was in middle school and high school. I didn’t even understand the ‘fetish’ of such design. That is, until I witnessed a few girls watching the original Sailor Moon anime in English subtitles. As I viewed a few scenes, I noticed the characters’ mouths matched the language being spoken; and the tone was more serious and less silly like most Western cartoon shows. Not to mention, most characters look more realistic, such as having five fingers instead of four.

And then I got curious with original Japanese anime shows (back in the olden days, anime was called Japanimation, and later was respectfully called anime), and I came across a mecha show called Beast King Golion (the original show for Voltron: Defender Of The Universe). I watched a few episodes with English subtitles, and I noticed how dark it was compared to American children’s shows (they show blood, death, real-life situations that adults can understand, and they swear too, usually saying words like “hell,” “damn,” “crap,” “bastard,” “bitch,” and the occasional “s**t”). Then I saw Voltron, and I noticed how much the dub changed the whole plot of the anime; violence was toned down, hardly any blood on screen, no swear words, somewhat poor voice acting with a few exceptions, and even the characters’ names were different. The only good qualities I see in Voltron was, of course, the name of the titular mech, and the kickass soundtrack of the 1980′s.

Later, as I look up different anime clips with English subtitles, I wondered if the characters speak English in the original version; and sure enough, there were clips that showed just that (it was awesome, funny, and bizarre; or even both or all three at the same time). What took me by surprise is that there was a Sonic X clip where Sonic occasionally throws in English in the original language. I didn’t even KNOW there was a Sonic The Hedgehog anime, and that threw me off in a good way. I started watching a few episodes with English subtitles, and then compared them to the English dubbed episodes; the original is the winner! And that was how I became a Sonic The Hedgehog fan, along with the Shadow The Hedgehog (2005) and the Sonic ‘06 games.

And then, interestingly, I discovered Pocket Monsters (the original Pokemon series) when I was browsing for more anime. I noticed how the main character, Ash Ketchum, had a different name, Satoshi, but they were the same character; they just happened to have different names in different languages. I was used to the name Ash, but I gradually started to like the name Satoshi even more, because it is the original show in its original language.

I have been a fan of Transformers ever since I watched the live action films by Michael Bay. It isn’t until The Transformers (1984-1987) and The Transformers: The Movie (1986) in which I started to like the Generation One (G1) Transformers because they originated in the 1980′s (which I really like, even though I wasn’t existent yet back in the day). I have many characters I like; my favorite Autobot is Ironhide, who was a black truck in the 2007 live action film, and a red van in the G1 version. Both of these incarnations share similar traits; Ironhide is just an awesome robot, he is trigger-happy (especially in the live action film), has a deep and gruff voice, is funny at times, is stubborn on a few things, and simply makes me smile; and in the live-action film’s case, my father owns a truck, and one of my favorite colors is black (just like KITT from the 1982 show, Knight Rider). I was disheartened by his death by the traitorous Sentinel Prime in Dark Of The Moon (2011), and at the hands of Megatron in the 1986 movie. And my favorite Decepticon is Starscream; who doesn’t love a backstabbing fighter jet anyways?

Now, I am sure you are probably asking, “what does this have to do with anime?” Well, I had the realization many months ago that Transformers Armada, Energon, and Cybertron (which all make up the Unicron Trilogy) were all anime series; so I looked each of them up in AnimeNewsNetwork, starting with Armada. (I wanted to check out the shows because I heard from many fans how this incarnation of Starscream subverts the traitorous role, and how he was the most likeable Decepticon in the whole series) The site shows the Japanese cast first, since it is the original language, and I was happy to see that Ironhide was there, as well. But, when I looked at the English cast, I couldn’t see the name anywhere. Interestingly, the Japanese credits called Optimus Prime Convoy, so maybe in Armada, this particular Autobot was not called Ironhide. And sure enough, when I started watching the show in English subtitles (the original is called Micron Legend), I was mostly right. What took me by surprise is that this Ironhide was not an old Autobot like many traditional Ironhides from the G1 and the Bayformers films, but a young Decepticon missile tank. Starscream is not the only Transformer to subvert the original roles of past incarnations. Apparently, this is the only Transformers continuation where Ironhide is a Decepticon. However, he shared many traits with his G1 counterpart as well; he is tough like how he should be, is funny (and surprisingly cute, not very many Ironhides is that lovable like this one), is stubborn some of the times, has a deep gruff voice, is trigger-happy (especially if you piss him off or cross Megatron in front of him), and instantly became a likable Transformer because of those traits; and he had probably the saddest death in the whole Unicron trilogy when I started watching Energon (originally called Superlink). I was disappointed when Megatron (now called Galvatron) put his abandoned spark into a new, and unattractive, body, and called him Irontread (didn’t stop me from watching the whole anime series because as I watched it futher, it shared many similarities with The Transformers: The Movie, particularly Unicron’s design, and the green helicopter we know as Springer (Japan calls him Sprung; not sure why...); the only thing missing in Superlink is “The Touch”). Next to Starscream, Ironhide is my favorite Transformer in the whole Unicron Trilogy. And what was his English dubbed name in Armada? Demolishor.

Ever since I watched these shows, I started to like them so much, maybe even more so than G1; probably because the Transformers had many human traits (for instance, they grunt and groan in pain more times than G1; oh and some of them actually cry, mainly younger Transformers like Ironhide in Micron Legend and Wing Dagger in Superlink), and was the first time I see them with teeth and different colored optics, instead of the traditional blue and red for the Autobots and Decepticons, respectively.

I notice many Trans-fans know many characters in the Unicron Trilogy by their English names because that was what they grew up with, or were used to seeing. And whenever someone points out the original names, they would interject, saying something like “its X, not Y!” (For example, “it’s Jetfire, not Skyfire!”) However, there are people like me who will point out what the original names are without trying to denigrate mainstream fans. Then again, I, too, get a little frustrated whenever a fan doesn’t call a character by their original name. But, if all else fails, I just let them call a character whatever they want to call them, because I cannot change their minds if they are absolutely certain of what the character’s name is, even if it is not their original name.

Then again, even the Japanese dub of the original Transformers shows and movies changed the names of certain characters because they believed it was cooler, easier to pronounce, or they didn’t like the name for some reason. For example, Optimus Prime was called Convoy, Sideswipe was called Lambor, Bumblebee was called Bumble, Devastator was called Devastor, Shockwave was called Lazerwave, Lazerbeak was called Condor, and Springer was called Sprung. (And Autobots and Decepticons were called Cybertrons and Destrons, respectively, and the planet Cybertron was called Seibertron.) In Micron Legend and Superlink, such names were the characters’ original names in the show.

Here are some characters in Micron Legend with their original and dubbed names (the rest not listed kept their names):

- Convoy = Optimus Prime

- Ratchet = Red Alert

- Hot Rod = Hot Shot

- Devastator = Scavenger

- Grap (possibly Grapple?) = Smokescreen/Hoist

- Ironhide = Demolishor

- Sandstorm = Cyclonus

- Silverbolt = Blurr (who is nothing like G1 Blurr at all)

- Doubleface = Sideways

- Wheelie = High Wire

- Bank = Grindor

- Arcee = Sureshock

- Bumble(bee) = Perceptor

- Shockwave = Tidal Wave

- Rampage = Wheeljack

- Stepper = Sideswipe

- Scourge = Nemesis Prime (Scourge’s name was not mentioned in Micron Legend, but that is what was confirmed in AnimeNewsNetwork and other anime sites)

- Megatron (Super Mode) = Galvatron

- Grid = Swindle

- Search = Blackout

- Barrel = Leader-1

- Prime = Sparkplug

- Alexa = Alexis

- Jim = Fred

- Amphitrite = not even given a name!

Here are the characters in Superlink, along with a few characters from Micron Legend (Armada):

- Grand Convoy = Optimus Prime

- Skyfire = Jetfire (I don’t know what happened to Jetfire and Hot Rod from Micron Legend; maybe they were reformatted without further explanation, replaced with newer characters, or the creators fixed Jetfire’s name to Skyfire and Hot Rod was so damaged that he had to be reformatted and was called Hot Shot, or according to some sites, matured into Hot Shot)

- Inferno V = Roadblock

- Roadbuster = Ironhide (who looked and acted nothing like the Ironhide I am so familiar with; is very unlikeable, compared to Roadbuster, who IS more likeable; and it is quite amusing to see two Ironhides fighting each other in Episode 10, with the one speaking English and the one speaking Japanese; there must be a crack fic about this somewhere...)

- Rodimus Convoy = Rodimus Prime (he was called Rodimus Convoy in the Japanese dub of G1)

- Red Alert = Prowl

- Airglide = Skyblast

- Blastarm = Strongarm

- Ariel = Arcee

- Springer = Bulkhead

- Overdrive = Cliffjumper

- Wheeljack = Downshift

- Galvatron (before recoloration) = Megatron (in Superlink, he explicitly said, “call me Galvatron-sama,” and he looked like his G1 counterpart as well)

- Nightscream = Starscream (since Starscream was killed by Unicron in Micron Legend after he used up all his energy from his spark, which is presumed destroyed. Yeah, sadly, Starscream never came back in Superlink; although Nightscream looks a lot like G1 Starscream even more than Armada Starscream)

- Mega-Zarak = Scorponok (G1 Scorponok’s Japanese dub name was Mega-Zarak; not sure why the creators called him that, though...)

- Sandstorm/Snowstorm = Cyclonus/Snow Cat

- Ironhide/Irontread = Demolishor/still Demolishor (what, no cooler name like Devastator, Basher, Groundcrusher or Destructor for his new body?)

- Shockwave/Shockfleet = Tidal Wave/Mirage

- Lazerwave = the real Shockwave (in Energon, he is called Shockblast, which I think is silly, so I will call him Lazerwave for Superlink’s sake)

- Buildron = Constructicon Maximus (note that Buildron is the Japanese dub name for Constructicon in G1)

- Bruticus = Bruticus Maximus

- Superion = Superion Maximus

- Superion’s brother = Dauntless Maximus (I will call him Dauntless)

- Alexa = Alexis

I have not seen Galaxy Force as often as Micron Legend and Superlink, but I will list a few characters that I can remember with the sub and dub names respectively:

- Galaxy Convoy = Optimus Prime

- Dreadrock = Jetfire

- Guardshell = Landmine

- Demolishor = Mudflap

- Sonic Bomber = Wing Saber

- First Aid = Red Alert

- Nitro Convoy (male) = Override (female)

- Exillion = Hot Shot

- Chromia = Thunderblast (yes, Chromia, usually an Autobot’s name, is a Decepticon in Galaxy Force)

- Noisemaze = Sideways

- Metroplex = Megalo Convoy (I don’t really know his name; that is what I got from some sources when I was trying to find out what this Transformer’s name was)

Anyways, since I saw the original versions, it can be really difficult for me to refer them to the English dubbed names so many fans can understand what I am saying. I am sure others feel the same way as well.

Well, that is all I will be saying so far. I will post more blogs, pictures, and memes when I have the time.

This is FirebirdTransAm68 signing out.

5 notes · View notes

theonyxpath · 5 years

Link

You might have noticed that everybody’s favorite Gentleman Gamer is now broadcasting on both the GG‘s and Onyx Path‘s YouTube channels. Matthew has stepped up to begin a series of regular vids – some focusing in on particular parts of our games, and some giving you a look at new projects and releases as they occur.

Here are links to the first few – an announcement that the Gentleman Gamer is coming to Onyx Path, an overview of They Came From Beneath the Sea!, and our first Onyx Path News broadcast

We start with They Came From Beneath the Sea!, for obvious reasons, but you’ll soon see some deep dives into the Scion pantheons and more to come in 2019!

You can also hear Matthew, Dixie, and Eddy on the weekly Onyx Pathcast – they end the year this Friday with a very special and silly holiday extravaganza, and a short talk with the always delightful Crystal Mazur.

Scion: Hero illustration by William O’Brien

Not going to get into too much news this week, here on Christmas Eve, but some of you have contacted us, concerned about recent news out of Paradox/White Wolf, so I want to touch on that now before we at Onyx Path head out to our various holiday events.

Our license with Paradox/WW hasn’t changed.

Chicago By Night for V5 continues as it has through production after our Kickstarter for it last month(ish), and we have other projects still going forward we have yet to announce.

We’ve been in discussions with Modiphius on a variety of topics through last year ourselves, but mostly on hooking into their V5 distribution process, and it was already looking good before the announcement from Paradox/WW.

But, and I do want the record straight on this, we are very happy with our distribution partners at Studio2 and how they have been fulfilling our Kickstarters and then making those books available into retail. That’s right, we have several projects already going onto the shelves of your friendly local game store.

Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and the Prince’s Gambit card game, have all been part of this distribution process by Studio2, and we’re very interested in seeing how Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition does as it joins their ranks in early 2019.

EX3 Hundred Devils Night Parade art by Melissa Uran

We’re still very specific about which projects are put onto the track that starts with a Kickstarter to fund traditionally printed books and ends up with solicitations to distributors and retailers after we get the KS backers their books, but it has been working really well for us so far!

Which is the key. We weren’t out of the distribution/retailer system because we couldn’t do it or nobody wanted us to be in their store. Far from it – since Onyx Path started on 1/1/12 we’ve had both distributors and retailers asking us to make books for their channels again.

We didn’t do it, because it would have hurt us at the beginning, and we had no process that gave us a clear…path, if you’ll excuse the term…that worked with our business model until we started working with Studio2.

It’s working now, we’re thrilled, and I think Studio2 is thrilled too. And that means that our other long-time partners like IPR and DTRPG are also gaining the benefits of us adding another way to get our books to the methods they already have worked with us on.

In fact, here’s the link for IPR‘s Retailer Page, so please pass it on to your local game store folks! https://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/IPR-Prospective-Retailer-FAQ.html

And with that dip into the biz stuff, I’m going to get my Kris Kringle ass out of here and into my holiday, and let you folks enjoy yours – as well as let you get on to seeing what’s up below with our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

They Came From Beneath the Sea! (TCFBtS!) funded on Kickstarter in less than 48 hours and we’ve passed through the first Stretch Goal of getting Larry Blamire to illustrate a horizontal scene usable on a screen, and are oozing up on the next goal- the beginning of a book of additional Threats!

TCFBtS! has some very different additions to the Storypath mechanics we’ll be explaining during the KS that take an excellent 50’s action and investigation genre game and turn it to 11! You can see the actual play here:

Check out the teaser:https://youtu.be/kxLydk4t76s

Hope to see you there back in the 50’s, fighting watery menaces and cracking wise!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! http://bit.ly/2w0aaEW

And we’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://theonyxpath.com/press-release-onyx-path-limited-editions-now-available-through-indie-press-revolution/

And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

This week, we’re offering PDF, ePub, and PoD versions of the Exalted 3rd novel Circle of Protection by Matt Forbeck and James Huggins on DTRPG, and you’ll be able to order epub versions on Amazon and the Nook store as well!

We’ll also have our monthly PDF releases for EX3‘s Hundred Devils Night Parade and Adversaries of the Righteous on DTRPG!

CONVENTIONS

Start getting ready for our appearance at MidWinter NEXT MONTH in January in Milwaukee! So many demos, playtests, secret playtests, and Onyx Path Q&As you could plotz!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Distant Worlds (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Let The Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Redlines

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Ready Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion Jumpstart (Scion 2nd Edition)

Development

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Manuscript Approval:

Wr20 Book of Oblivion (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Editing:

Aeon Aexpansion (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Adventures for Curious Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

In Media Res (Trinity Continuum: Core)

Tales of Excellent Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)

V5 Chicago By Night Screen (Vampire: The Masquerade)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

Night Horrors: Shunned by the Moon (Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development:

C20 Players’ Guide (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Indexing:

Scion Origin (Scion Second Edition)

Scion Hero (Scion Second Edition)

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Dystopia Rising: Evolution – Finals coming in.

The Realm

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Chicago By Night – Contracting next bits.

C20 Player’s Guide – Finals coming in and going in for WW approval.

Aeon Aexpansion

They Came From Beneath the Sea! – KS ready.

EX3 Lunars – So far, so good.

Signs of Sorcery – Just need fulls to come in.

In Media Res – Contracted.

Hunter: The Vigil 2 – KS art in progress.

Shunned By the Moon – Awaiting notes.

Marketing Stuff

In Layout

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) – With Meredith.

Geist 2e

Proofing

Scion Hero – Indexing.

Scion Origin – Indexing.

CtL2 Jumpstart – Backer PDF out and errata coming.

M20: Gods and Monsters – Inputting Phil proofing notes.

Pugmire Roll of Good Dogs and Cats

Trinity Core – Waiting for errata from Backer PDF.

Trinity Aeon – Waiting for errata from Backer PDF.

Ex3 Dragon Blooded – Backer PDF out and errata coming.

At Press

Wraith 20th – New cover proof approved. Everything else is printing.

Wraith 20 Screen – Printing.

Scion Dice – At Studio2.

Lost 2e Screen – Shipping to shipper.

Scion Screen – Shipping to shipper.

Changeling: The Lost 2e – Soon shipping from printer to shipper. PoD proof ordered.

Fetch Quest – Manufacturing starting.

Exalted 3rd Novel – PoD proof ordered.

PtC Tormented – PoD proof ordered.

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE:

Today is Eddy Webb’s birthday! I don’t know how old he is, but I know it’s in Dog Years! And this here’s a holiday week, and whether you just like a bit of vacay, have to work anyway, love Santa and the presents, must have your peppermint drinks, or celebrate your faith’s religious holiday – or some of all of that – we hope everybody has a joyous time this week! Merry Christmas!

#Onyx Path Publishing

5 notes · View notes

scurvgirl · 6 years

Text

A Monster Came to the Forest

Woo! Got this done before I leave for vacation!

Fairy Tale AU

Previous | Next

Masterpost

Updated Map

Vena, Dirthamen, Andruil, Falon’din (mention), and others belong to @feynites

Ana belongs to @lycheemilkart

Selene and Des belong to @selenelavellan

Vena’s gotten used to this whole forest living thing. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be. It’s actually pretty amazing. There are zero expectations of him outside of don’t be an asshole. And he can manage that just fine. There is no long code or pressure to be fashionable or anything. It’s just him and Ana and the woods and all the living creatures around them.

Ana shows him the forest, teaching him about the animals and plants. She brings him a long tunic and breeches that he can wear instead of the heavy, ineffectual armor he had been ceremoniously stabbed in. At night, when it’s colder, Ana draws up a small circle and casts a spell. It produces a bubble of warmth that feels very much like a blanket. It allows him to sleep though he does miss actual blankets.

After two weeks of living in the tree with Ana, he starts wondering how hard it would be to build a structure for him to live in. He brings it up to Ana who is reluctant at first because elves just “kill trees for themselves” but they eventually come to a compromise. He only uses dead trees and branches, and while that means it takes longer to finish it, it turns out well. The hut is small but it is big enough for a bed that he also builds from dead branches, and the feathers of dead birds. That had been much less fun to deal with. There are also pelts of animals, which Ana lets him hunt. He needs to eat, after all.

The hut is set up in the shadow of Ana’s willow tree. Vena finds he quite likes waking up to see his favorite tree lady hanging out on a branch. Sometimes he wakes up to find a long branch in the window he put in, with an Ana covered in flowers and vines watching him sleep.

“Vena,” she says in a low whisper. Vena blinks his eyes open slowly then rolls to his side.

“‘S too early,” he moans, tucking his face into his pillow.

“There are people,” she says. That wakes him up. Vena sits up in bed and blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“People?”

“They are dressed like you were but different too,” she sounds more excited than he thinks is a good idea. People dressed like him? Has Sylaise found him? Exactly how would she be able to do that? He hasn’t done anything to indicate to any other people like him that he’s even alive.

“Show me,” he says, rolling out of bed. He pulls on his clothes and follows Ana out of the hut. Together they head east toward the river. They do not need to travel far until Vena starts noticing key signs of travel. Ana guides him up into a tree and they look down at the camp from there.

Well, it’s not Sylaise.

It’s her sister, Andruil. He cannot tell if he is relieved or even more worried.

Both? Probably both.

He takes Ana’s hand and they head back to the hut.

“Do not seek them out, promise me you will not seek them out,” he says, his voice low and serious.

“Why?”

“They are dangerous. While I am a friendly outlier of my people, the rest are not so much - and those people in particular are not.”

She blinks her great big green eyes at him but she nods, “I will stay away from the Andruil and people.”

He exhales in a surprising amount of relief, “Good, good.”

Serahlin is stuck.

She cannot go home, but she feels no desire to remain in the woods with a dragon so close by. Even if that dragon is Adannar. Even if she cares - cared for Adannar.

Her heart aches in betrayal. He lied to her, made her believe she was safe in this forest all the while he is the greatest monster of all. An actual dragon. Just like the beasts who had burned down large swaths of her country and terrorized her people. He is a beast who would burn her country and people if given half the chance.

Maybe that’s why he was so...the way he was with her. It was to get her comfortable so she would reveal secrets about her people so he could be better at hurting them.

That particular thought is horrifically distressing. Serahlin falls to the floor in the cottage, just like she had all those months ago. She is a different person, she feels, but the same things keep happening. Betrayal, love that isn’t love. The tears fall down her face against her will, her shoulders shaking as the emotion slams through her.

Mamae did not love her. Not the way parents should love their children anyways, and not like she loves Elvara. Dirthamen did not love her, and she held no qualms over that except she knew he loved another. She told herself it didn’t bother her, that their impending marriage was political and that love was not expected. He was free to love others. Another. But it still hurt, against everything she told herself, it hurt. He did not even try to talk to her about it, he hid it, making it all the worse.

Somehow, with all that she has been through, this hurts the worst of all. Adannar has been there, comforting her, she told him her thoughts and feelings. She laid herself bare and he gave her lies and deception.

She is sick to death of being used. Like all she is good for is being a stepping stone to power. She’s...she’s a person but damn it all if she isn’t treated as such.

Her sobs last a long time. Exhaustion, heartbreak, and betrayal mingle into a potent cocktail that rends her useless for the rest of the day. When her body finally demands food and water, she nibbles on some of the stores Adannar helped her gather. She tries not to dwell on how she got the food and instead on defeating the pangs in her stomach.

She can’t go home, but she doesn’t want to stay here either. She could...try going somewhere else? There is the rumored Outcast Island, but it is full of miscreants and pirates and there is rumor of a monster more terrifying than any dragon on the mainland. She could try adopting a new identity, cut off all her beautiful hair, maybe dye it...blonde? She doesn’t think she would look good as a blonde though. It’s also very likely she would just be caught and then executed.

Serahlin lies awake in bed, contemplating all the various ways she could leave this cottage. Nothing seems like it will work.

She is truly stuck.

The next day, Adannar does not come. She half expects him to show up and abduct her properly, but days pass and he does not. She does not hear so much as a rumble from the forest.

She tries to not feel anything like disappointment.

She gardens, makes her food, occasionally hunts and manages to snag a hare. She stitches holes in her clothes and tries not to pay too much attention to how lonely she is. Despite him being a lying monster, she...misses Adannar.

No, she misses what she thought he was - kind, nurturing, happy, supportive, and just good. But he can’t be any of those things, not truly. He is a dragon. The same as the beasts who have terrorized her people.

He is the same, even if it is difficult for her to imagine him flying over the fields, burning them and the people in them to ash. He. Is. The. Same. He knew how she felt and he kept the truth from her.

But...there is a part of her that wonders if the reason he did not tell her the truth was because he was afraid of her reaction. He knew she feared dragons, hated them even. Is it possible that he really did grow close to her? That he felt the way she wanted him to feel, like she thought he felt, and that the only reason he lied was because he was afraid?

The thought stays with her for the next several days. By the end of the week, she begrudgingly admits that it is possible. In all the time she saw him, he was never aggressive or angry. He was happy and full of joy, he showed her beautiful things and made her feel like a better version of herself. He brought out her happiness and joy. Even if he was lying, he did all those good things. When he kissed her, she felt the world in bloom. Her body swelled with joy and love, she opened up to him and let herself feel everything.

If, and it is a very big if, if Adannar was lying to her out of fear of her reaction...then she just proved him right. His lie then becomes understandable, wrong, but...understandable.

What complicates things further is that when given the opportunity to take her prisoner, Adannar let her go. He let her go and he has demanded nothing since.

These thoughts keep her up at night. They infiltrate her mind and heart. They make her ache for him, for what they had. They make her ask -

Was she wrong to run?

Is she wrong about dragons?

She doesn't know. What she does know is that she misses Adannar. She misses him all day and all night. She misses him while she gardens and when she goes out into the forest to forage.

The heat and humidity of the summer makes her stand and take frequent breaks in her foraging. It similarly keeps her close to the small stream where she does most of her fishing. Serahlin is on the bank of the stream when she hears hoofbeats. They are not the hoofbeats of deer or even Adannar’s mechanical creatures. No, Serahlin recognizes these hoofbeats as the regular sounds of a procession of horses. Shadows move on the other side of the stream and a rush of fear surges through her.

Serahlin ducks into the brush, hiding in the shadows like she has learned from Adannar. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she tries her best to follow the procession while remaining hidden. She knows the wood better than these people, at least this area of the wood.

She sneaks around a bend and maneuvers herself next to a tree that she happens to know is possessed by a spirit of Silence. She rubs its bark and it shrouds her in shadow, allowing her to watch while hidden.

The group comes into view, bedecked in armor and various armaments. Large armaments, the kind of weapons that are designed to take down exceptionally large prey. The breath leaves Serahlin’s body as one of the riders, the main rider, comes into view. Andruil, Princess and greatest hunter of Elvhenan, second to none. She is only shadowed by the brutality of her brother, Falon’din, and even then...it is not by much. While Falon’din has specialized in dragon hunting, Andruil has prided herself on being able to hunt anything and everything - and she has succeeded, time and time again. She has brought down her fair share of dragons, and she is spectacular at it.

A nasty fear claws its way through Serahlin. Andruil is hunting Adannar. All at once Serahlin has a violent rejection of the idea that Adannar deserves to be hunted. Despite being a dragon, despite being the monster she has been told is evil her entire life, at the heart of it, Adannar has done nothing to deserve being hunted. No dragons who have terrorized her people fit his description and he has been consistently good to her.

Serahlin’s mind is made up in a matter of seconds and it sends regret and fear in equal measures through her. She has to warn him, she has to get to him before Andruil and her cronies.

She slips back through the woods and to the cottage. She hops onto Velini and urges him at a quick pace back towards Adannar’s cave. She will warn him and ask for his forgiveness. Maybe, just maybe, she isn’t so stuck.

Adannar feels listless. He cannot sleep, but he cannot do the things he once enjoyed. A thick melancholy fills him and his home. He cries through his heartbreak and halfway enters the dreaming, wrapping himself in memories of their time together.

In the memories, he feels her love, or at least he does not feel her ire. He dreams of her lips against his and her smile when he saw her first thing in the morning.

It is dangerous for a dragon to become so enamored with memories and the Dreaming. He knows he can fall into a slumber of which he will never wake. That knowledge is the only thing that makes him wake periodically to eat and tend to the home. His creatures whine at him, they all need maintenance. He needs to do that, needs to oil their hinges, work in more magic so that they do not become...so that they do not die.

If he can just find the energy.

Adannar manages to find some energy to tune Huirin up on the fifth day. He is oiling Huirin’s upper neck hinge when the structure of his home shakes from what he guesses is a crash against the atrium ceiling. Wards break and sound off in cacophonous alarm. Huirin whines in nervousness and Adannar snaps to attention. It has been a long time, a long time, since he has had to defend his home from invaders, but he will take up the front if he must. He doesn’t know how good he is at it anymore, and he was never very good at it to begin with - but he will fight. He may be heartbroken but he has no interest in dying.

Adannar pulls the magical energies of the home to him, shrouding and shielding himself in an armor-like barrier. He deepens his breathing, directing the heat into his belly as he climbs up and takes a long drink of water from a water flow he keeps for this precise reason.

The atrium’s ceiling is broken when he arrives and he casts a light spell to illuminate the dark space.

“Show yourself! I have done no harm and if you would -

“Adannar!” A familiar shouts just before a large, long body barrels into him.

“OOF!” He shouts, his barrier protecting him from any damage, but the size of the dragon still makes him fall over into a tangle of limbs.

“Des! What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be far, far away!” He admonishes without any real bite behind it. Des coils his body around Adannar, all warm and snuggly. Dragons need physical reassurance, it creates bonds, maintains relationships - even if those relationships are simply platonic. Touch starvation is a severe concern for many of them now that they are so scattered, hiding in isolation trying to survive and not draw too much attention to them.

Des shoves his head up by Adannar’s and sighs as they come to a halt, “I have never been good at staying away, you know that.”

“I’m serious! You’re on the same continent as Selene!” Adannar whines all the while folding his wings around Des’s body. The barrier disappears and Des sighs.

“I know, and believe it or not I would not have come if Selene wasn’t in trouble.”

Adannar goes stock still.

“What?”

“I cannot be certain what is wrong but something is wrong. She is...there is something. I couldn’t just sit in the Obelisk and wait for wrong to turn into something even worse!” Des bemoans. He does not relax his body even as Adannar can tell the contact is helping ease something in him. No, he will not be relaxed or calm until he knows his other half is safe. But he cannot go see for himself, cannot go and help Selene himself because if he does, he will only make them a shiny target for the knights.

Adannar exhales a warm plume of humid air down Des’s back. It’s not Selene’s purple fire, but it is heat and it helps ease Des a little bit.

“I will go see her,” Adannar says softly. Des lifts his head, big gold eyes blinking in surprised relief.

“Thank you.”

“In order for me to do that, I will need you to move…”

“Oh, yes.” Des uncoils himself from around Adannar’s body, returning his normal stature. He is longer than Adannar, and his horns are taller, but Adannar is bulkier and broader. Adannar is not the largest dragon, but he is big enough that he has on occasion moved other dragons.

“What does it feel like? Is she hurt or is it something else?” They used to all be together, not together but friends. Selene helped Adannar with his calculations when he first began making his creations, before that he was simply a smith, a crafter. In turn, he was there as she became a stronger healer. It was an exciting time, and Des made everything fun - sometimes too fun, but now Adannar misses it. He misses his friends.

Des’s body shivers as he taps into the connection to Selene so much that Adannar swears he can almost feel it in the air.

“If she is hurt, it is not like she has been before,” he says and Adannar nods. It’s not much, but he can make it work. He goes back into his lair with Des on his heels, gathering some basic healing supplies. A focusing hunk of crystal, a sack of elfroot, and a pain reliever potion. Not that Selene doesn’t already have all of these things at the Glass Tower, but Adannar likes to be prepared.

“Hold the lair while I am gone and if…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to tell Des to keep the hope that Serahlin will return. The time is too short to give him the details, but he seems to sniff out the potential gossip nevertheless.

“If…?” Des says, voice full of lascivious curiosity.

Adannar sighs, “If a woman by the name of Serahlin comes by...just...she is my guest, treat her as such.”

“Oh there is a story here, I can feel it.”

“I can tell you the story or save Selene.”

“You are no fun!” Des protests without any real seriousness, “I expect the story when you get back!” He calls as Adannar turns, flying down the passage into the atrium. He flies through the hole Des created before reactivating the wards. He will have to repair the glass later - his friend needs him more.

Adannar takes to the sky and tries to let the air rushing by him clear his head. He tries to let it purify the magic in his body and soul. He will need to be unanchored to heal Selene, particularly if the hurt is unlike anything Des has ever felt. He knows physical hurt, he knows anguish and grief and heartbreak. He knows the throes of depression and languid sorrow, a longing so deep it rends her immoveable.

What kind of hurt does Des not know of his other half? What soul wounding thing must it be? Adannar fears she has weakened the bond in some fashion and that perhaps she is fading from this world and into the Dreaming, not unlike how he has been tempted.

Adannar rises high into the sky, into the clouds that cling to his scales and magic in a familiar embrace of water based magic. His wings beat hard and the clouds form around him like a fog. There were stories once of how dragons could influence the weather, bring rains or take them away at a whim. He was never a fan of those stories, even if they rang a little true. They are not gods, but they are part of nature and the magic that is latent in this world clings to them - it reacts to their being. The most Adannar has ever succeeded in changing is bringing a fog with his arrival, and as far as he is aware, Selene and Des have never changed the weather.

It takes several hours before he spies the great Glass Tower, rising from the canopy of trees. It is a glittering beacon, once beckoning in dragons and spirits alike. Now it is full of sad memories and a stubborn dragon who insists on keeping those memories. He loves Selene, he does, but he wishes she would be kinder to herself - for all of her devotion, he feels like she lacks a certain devotion to herself. When Des had to leave for their safety, Adannar had promised to watch over her as best he could. He admits, he has neglected that somewhat recently. His own melancholy has been so strong, and then there was Serahlin. Oh Serahlin.

He should not have ignored his dear friend.

Adannar lands against the side of the Tower, long talons securing himself against the familiar enchanted stones. He maneuvers himself down the side until he comes to a window. He waves his tail and the wards snap into recognition. The purple barrier turns a welcoming white and he enters the Tower, folding his wings tightly against his body. This place was never built for a dragon of his size, and normally he would shift into a smaller form, but he has lost weight, making it so that he fits - though just barely.

The Tower is alight with magic, more than usual. It is as if it is reacting to something being returned to it, which is strange. The Tower has lost much, the majority of its spirits and researchers, even magical artifacts are no longer present. But these things that have been lost are not easily restored - returning a shard of a spirit that had grown here would not restore the Tower like this. Magical artifacts similarly would not have this effect. Yet the magic is strong, not quite lively, but present in a way that he has not seen in quite some time.

This is not the home of a dragon who has succumbed to the Dreaming.

His nose flares and he tries to sniff her out. She is on a lower level, in the healing quarters. While he fit onto the level, he must shift to descend the spiral staircase - his draconic form is simply not flexible enough. It is a quick shift into his elven form before he hastens down the stairs and into the healing quarters. He thrusts the doors open to find a very much alive and awake Selene crouched over...something. A low rumbling growl emanates from her and he tilts his head in response.

“Selene? What is going on? Why are you growling at me? What are you guarding?” He asks. Her green eyes blink and her form relaxes from its guarding pose.

“Adannar! Thank goodness you’re here, you can help!” She beckons him closer. Confused but curious, Adannar acquiesces to her request, approaching what she is so vehemently guarding. She moves off her object of protection and Adannar sucks in a breath.

An elven man, he thinks, but warped - a possession gone wrong. Elongated legs with talons on the feet and on the hand, feathers encroaching upon his face, two pairs of eyes rather than the one.

“I have done everything I can think of, but he’s not getting better. Adannar, I...I don’t know what to do,” Selene says, her sorrow thick in her voice.

It is then Adannar realizes what Des was feeling - Selene’s fear of losing this man that she has bonded herself to somehow. Not somehow, not really, she is such an affectionate person who is prone to getting attached. Not that he blames her, he shares this trait with her.

He nods and sets his things down before holding his hands over the man, “What is his name?”

Selene’s wings flutter in nervousness before she speaks, “Dirthamen.”

“Dirthamen wasn’t a bad man, simply...uninterested in me,” Serahlin says, head tucked against Adannar’s chest.

“I find that difficult to believe,” he tells her, hand running through her hair.

“The heart wants what it wants, and it is cold to anything else,” she murmurs. His heart aches for her and vows to himself to make her feel wanted and loved for as long she will allow him.

The memory flashes in Adannar’s head. He gazes down at the man’s face and frowns. Well, he supposes he has found the lost prince, the cause for Serahlin having to run away. He does not know whether he should be angry with him or grateful. Perhaps both? Perhaps neither, sometimes fate is simply tricky like that.

“Dirthamen,” Adannar says, summoning the magic in the air to use him as a conduit as he begins to magically assess the damage. Selene has done everything she can for the physical, but Adannar suspects that this is something much different. As talented healer as she is, he has become quite the soul smith.

He uses the focusing crystal to hone his magic into a space that is partway between the Dreaming and the Waking that is unique to Dirthamen. Adannar calls it the soul space, where the spirit resides and where possessions go wrong. It takes exceptional effort to enter the soul space, the focus and precision spellwork is taxing and each soul space is different. It is like constructing a key by pouring molten metal into the lock then trying to unlock the door before the key is formed.

Once he manipulates his magic just so, there is a whoosh of magic and he is in the soul space. Darkness surrounds him for a moment before brilliant lights burst, doting the space around him like a night sky full of stars. He stands on a pillar and before him stretches an infinite expanse of darkness dotted with stars that pushes and pulls with a central light overhead - a moon framed by soft purple flames, a manifestation of the bond between him and Selene.

He turns slowly on his pillar, careful to not disturb anything. A disturbance could be disastrous in Dirthamen’s current state. In the distance he sees a swirling mass turning in on itself. He reaches up and imagines himself closer to the mass. All around him turns so that he is before the giant mass.

The mass that is really three souls all trying to escape and attach to each other at the same time. Adannar reaches up and lets himself get a read of all the souls present. He latches onto one in shocked recognition.

Longing? He whispers. The soul stirs in confused recognition, it buzzes and moves, dragging the other two with it. It whines in pain, the pieces from the other two, born from Longing, but different, no longer fitting correctly.

Adannar retracts his hand and himself from the soul seeing.

“Selene,” he says, keeping his voice measured. The news he has for her is...good, he thinks, ultimately good, but distressing nonetheless.

“What is it? What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“There are three souls that are being housed incorrectly inside Dirthamen. One of them is Dirthamen, but the other two are incorrectly trying to merge with Dirthamen. I suspect they were created from Dirthamen and have since tried to incorrectly merge with him once more. It is creating a magical imbalance and a parasitic bond, which is why his physical state is so...altered.” First, he thinks, he should fix the issues, then tell her. Yes, that will work.

“Oh, oh no...how...how do we get them out?”

Adannar contemplates for a long moment, going over everything he has at his disposal in his head. The spirits need bodies, but they are too new and weak to take on bodies by themselves. They cannot exist without bodies at this point, too tied to Dirthamen. They need bodies, which Adannar can make, but they don’t have that kind of time. If only he had a couple of bodies...wait.

“Do you remember the sentinels I gave you all those years ago?” He asks. She blinks then nods.

“The ravens? Yes, though they stopped working after awhile. I’m sorry, I should have brought them to you to be repaired.”

He waves her off, “It worked out well. The two spirits are too weak to take their own bodies or to be totally separate. I need to untangle them from Dirthamen, but I need to create an anchor for each of them...like moons to his planet. To do that, I need bodies - bring them to me, please?” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Selene is flying out of the room and to where she has the sentinels stored.

While she is busy gathering what will become the bodies for the spirits, Adannar returns to the soul space to discern what spirits he is dealing with. His magic is strong but gentle and examining spirits like this is not unlike handling snake eggs. They are so infinitely fragile, prone to breaking and becoming malformed. Still, he examines them as best he can. The first spirit is easy enough to decipher - Deceit, a surprisingly bold fellow that takes a position between Adannar and the other spirit.

I am no threat. I am here to help. He tells them. Deceit is cautious, though, and Adannar can understand that. He is a great big unknown, his magic is strong and they are very vulnerable. Still, Adannar will need their cooperation for this to go smoothly.

I am going to give you and your friend bodies, you will still be anchored to Longing, but you cannot remain like this. I am a friend of Selene’s, I speak no lie to you.

If Deceit had eyes, Adannar is sure they would narrow them at him. He allows them to examine him and his soul in turn, knowing they will not dislodge from Longing, not while they cling so tightly.

See? I mean no harm.

He reaches a tendril of magic down to them and slowly begins to undo the binding it has created to attach to Longing. It quivers but grows in strength as he works. When he has the last piece surrounded by his magic, he dislodges it only to quickly revert it and create a gravitational pull between Longing and Deceit. Slowly, Adannar creates a pathway with his magic from Longing’s soul space to Adannar’s magical holding and then into the body of one of the sentinels Selene has laid beside him.

“Shard!” He asks quickly as he settles Deceit into the body. Selene provides a shard of a spirit, surprising alike to Deceit and he uses it to secure Deceit into its new home. One spirit down, one to go.

He returns to the soul space and searches for the other spirit. He finds it cowering behind Longing, so tightly wound and pulsating irregularly. Oh the poor thing, a terrified little spirit of Fear. It has lost its protector of Deceit and now clings resolutely to Longing.

Shhh, I have you, I won’t hurt you. I am here to help. He soothes as best he can as he surrounds Fear and Longing with his magic, slowly undoing the attachment. Fear cries in protest and even zaps Adannar. He would like cooperation but Fear will not give it. This...this will result in some sort of trauma, he fears, but sometimes a bone must be broken to be set properly.

Dammit.

He forcefully unhooks Fear from Longing, quickly reworking the connection before pulling in Fear. It resists the entire way, making Adannar expand more energy to keep it from accidentally shattering itself. At least this time Selene is anticipating his move and provides another shard, from the same spirit, good, to help anchor Fear into its new home. Once he is certain Fear is hooked into the sentinel, he returns to Longing. Or Dirthamen, rather.

There are remnants of having Fear and Deceit so improperly set within him, but with some gentle healing and urging, he manages to guide Dirthamen back into a healthy form. What is strange, however, is that he gets the sense that his body will not quite revert like Adannar expects.

What is wrong?

I...do not know. Or perhaps I cannot tell? Dirthamen replies.

Your form is not elven. Adannar says, only to be met with surprise.

It is not?

Interesting.

Do not worry about it, we can address it after you have rested. Adannar casts a mild sleep aid to encourage proper healing. Dirthamen goes willingly enough, allowing Adannar to retract himself.

He falls back to the cool tile of the healing room, panting and sweating, his energy sapped from him. This is not unlike birth, he imagines. The fatigue and strain that permeates every part of his body. His skin is hot and his head feels heavy with the exhaustion, but he turns his head anyways.

The sentinels, great mechanical ravens much larger than the standard raven, are moving. They are fluttering wings and moving little legs. Adannar recognizes Deceit in the first one, its eyes glowing with life, brighter than Fear’s who is still resisting movement. Deceit, however, is moving quite well. It picks itself up and turns to Fear. It makes a mechanical caw that seems to surprise itself before letting out another caw. Then another.

“Oh, look at them,” Selene breathes in awe. He hopes Des feels her relief.

“Selene?” He says, voice soft and weak.

“Yes, my friend?”

“Help me into a bed?”

“Oh yes!” She lifts him up and puts him into a large nest of pillows and blankets. He will shift in his sleep, they both know. His last thought is of Longing, poor Longing, thought to be shattered in the siege of the Glass Tower, only to turn up now - improperly possessed. It’s sad, Adannar thinks, that such a spirit, on the track to becoming a dragon in his own right, to turn up like this. At least...at least he is safe now.

Serahlin keeps looking over her shoulder, afraid she will see Andruil on her heels.

She urges Velini to move more quickly through the wood. It’s a bit of a struggle to remember the path Huirin took, but she remembers landmarks well and she knows the general path better than Andruil at least. Or...at least Serahlin hopes she does.

Despite knowing the way and moving as fast as she dare, it still takes several hours before she reaches the cave leading into the lair. She hops off of Velini and hitches him to a nearby tree, making sure he has plenty to graze. She turns from her horse and hurries into the lair, doing her best to ignore how rapidly her heart is beating.

Adannar is...he doesn’t deserve to be killed by Andruil. At least she hope he doesn’t, if he does, she is going to be very cross with him. She darts into the cave and heads quickly down the stairs and into the lair proper, past all the rooms and piles of treasure. Should she call for him? Let him know she’s here? Will he...will he even forgive her for running? Surely he can understand her position, all the thoughts she has grown up with about dragons...it’s not an easy thing to throw away so quickly.

Yet she is here, isn’t she? Not so long after she ran. She wants to talk to him more than anything, she thinks. She wants to know his side of things, better than what he said before because she wasn’t listening before, she hadn’t been ready to listen. Now that she is ready, she can’t lose him.

She finds the room he was sleeping in last time, dark and empty. Fine, she can...find him elsewhere. She moves deeper into the lair, it dips down with a large staircase. What use does a dragon have of a staircase? But the space is wide and tall with large landings that if she looks at an angle, form a staircase large enough for a dragon. In between the landings are steps suited for people Serahlin’s size. She steps down the stone stairs, marveling at the beautiful work that has gone into them. The railing is etched with fine detail, gilded with gold and silver. Out of all the palaces she has walked, never has she seen something so fine and beautiful. It fits with Adannar, she thinks - beautiful and lovely but so unlike all the beauty she has seen before.

“Adannar?” She calls, her voice echoing through the space. She descends the staircase and walks across the tiled floor, with naught an answer to guide her. There is a great set of doors on the opposite end from the staircase. Inexplicably drawn to it, Serahlin moves to it. She creaks open a door and slips inside.

A myriad of colors and brilliant plants great her in a riot of breathtaking beauty. Above is a domed ceiling made of stained glass that filters in gold, red, green, and blue light. The only blemish is a large hole in the glass on the far side, jagged edges catching the light in a cut pattern. The atrium is filled with plants, so many of which are unknown to her. It is a garden, she realizes, an atrium meets greenhouse.

What wondrous things Adannar makes, she thinks not for the first time. How can someone who makes such wonderful things be bad? If dragons can make these things then why would they ever attack elven cities and settlements? The knights have always deemed that the dragons lusted for what the elves could make, they thirsted for power and sought to steal it from the elves. But standing in the atrium, surrounded by wondrous beauty and power, Serahlin wonders how many lies the knights have spread about dragons. She already knows they are given to lies when it comes to politics, perhaps...perhaps it was all a lie.

“Adannar?” She calls again. This time a shadow rises from the end of the atrium and it circles around the space until it seems to surround her and fill the space. Large gold glowing eyes open in the shadows and an array of teeth are suddenly sneering at her.

This...this is not Adannar.

“What is your name?” The shadow demands in a low menacing voice. Serahlin closes her eyes and resists every impulse in her body to run in fear. No, she has a duty here. She came here for a reason and she will not be denied.

“I am Serahlin - who are you? Where is Adannar?” If her voice shakes a little, it is her prerogative, she has only recently gotten over her lover being a dragon after all.

All at once, the shadows recede and reveal another dragon, with long spiraling horns and a similarly long body. His wings are feathered and move, shuffling away the shadows as he takes on what she hopes is a more friendly stance. His lips pull into what she thinks is the dragon equivalent of a smile, or perhaps a smirk.

“Ah Serahlin, Adannar told me to keep an eye out for you. To answer your question, I am Des. And Adannar is currently away assisting me with an issue. Now tell me, what exactly is your relationship with my dear friend, hmm? You are a lovely little thing, aren’t you.” He folds his wings against his body and leans towards her, surprisingly without any menace but curiosity. Serahlin leans back and tries not to scowl. She gets the distinct feeling like if he were an elf, she would be resisting the urge to slap him. Perhaps at the palace one of her guards would.

“That is a private matter,” she says before remembering why she is here, “and there is something more pressing to discuss. There is a hunting part in the woods headed by Andruil herself. You need to get somewhere safe, is there a, a, bunker here? Or perhaps impenetrable wards? She is a relentless and renowned hunter, she has killed dragons before. If you are a friend to Adannar then I doubt you deserve such a fate, and wherever he is, he needs to be somewhere safe. Do you understand?” She stands tall, chin raised with a firm determination to make this...this giant lizard listen to her. Yes, he is just a giant lizard, that’s all he is.

The giant lizard raises a scaly brow at her, “That was quite the mouthful,” he says with entirely too much behind it.

“You came here to warn Adannar about imminent danger? My, what are you two?”

“Must I repeat myself? It is a private matter but if you do not want to heed the warning then that is your decision.” She crosses her arms and adopts an expression she learned while she was still a princess - no nonsense and stubborn. The big lizard sighs dramatically.

“Fine, it’s private. And Andruil, you say? This place is more secure than you think, you just stay here while I activate the wards and defenses.” He leans up and flies out of the atrium. Serahlin does not let her face change until she is sure he is gone. Once assured she will not be seen, she slumps against the wall, resting her hand atop her chest.

She hopes she does not regret this.

While the lizard goes and activates the wards, Serahlin can find armor, arms. She is not the most proficient with them, but she knows some things. Enough to wave a sword around and look menacing. The trick now is finding arms and armor. There has to be something around here in the piles upon piles of stuff.

She heads out of the atrium and back into the lair proper. A rumbling noise begins to echo through the cave and slowly a whirr fills the halls along with a static magic. Holes open in the walls and small mechanical creatures resembling falcons and other small birds of prey fly out of them, alight with what must be defensive magic.

The swarm grows and grows until she is pushed into a room filled with crates and satchels. Serahlin begins to go through them, looking for anything that will help. She opens a crate to find the most beautiful iridescent fabrics in blues, greens, yellows - so many colors. She pulls out one length to find that it is a robe and that this crate does not contain multiple robes but an entire outfit meant to be layered to create a stunning effect. She is coming back for this.

She goes through a few more crates and finds some embossed leather armor that she dons as well as she can without assistance. Bracers, shin guards, even a cuirass that she manages to pull on over her head and secure around her chest.

She is finishing securing the cuirass when a loud crash echoes through the lair. It is the sound of magic and glass shattering and it sends her running down the hall and down the staircase. Des roars and there is shouting, the clash of weapons, the charge of battle magic as she nears the atrium. She steps over the threshold and into darkness.

Serahlin blinks and slowly her eyes adjust miraculously to the lowlight. Des is on the far side of the atrium, opposite to where most of the hunters are. His wings flutter and it is too late for her to run before she realizes he is igniting the shadows. Their eyes meet and his widen in horror.

“NO!”

The shadows ignite in brilliant fashion. Serahlin brings her arms in reflex but the fire surrounds her and her skin burns as she is thrown back from the explosion. Light flashes, blinding her. The explosion deafens her as her body crashes into the floor. She gasps as the air is forced out of her lungs and she is rolled to her back, staring up at the now blasted glass ceiling. Everything appears to move in slow blurry fashion, she thinks she hears her name but she cannot move, cannot respond.

Her ears ring and she is only vaguely aware of the battle occuring around her. She thinks someone shouts her name. Something crashes, sending vibrations through the floor. She needs to move, needs to...get out of here. To safety, to Adannar. Try as she might, all her body can manage is to turn her head towards the atrium.

She cannot see Des anywhere, all she sees are the hunters - ones that are dead and alive. At least ten bodies are strewn about, burned and blown apart. Serahlin tries to take stock of herself, fear that she too is blown apart - but she feels her feet, her hands, each finger and each toe. She feels her stomach, feels the weight of the cuirass that is still secured to her chest.

One of the alive hunters turns to her, eyes dark and face drawn. The lady Andruil is telling them something and they nod before striding over to Serahlin. She feels the menace roll off them and fear wells up in her. Their hand barely touches her cuirass before a powerful, bright magic rises from her and sends them flying away from her.

What...what was that? She has never manifested magic before, how...what? Has her stay in the forest changed her so much that she is now magical? As if there is not enough happening!

Andruil raises an eyebrow at Serahlin before stalking forward herself. She does not make the same mistake as the previous hunter and instead kneels next to Serahlin.

“What do we have here?” She says, looking over Serahlin, “My brother’s former betrothed, the princess Serahlin. My other brother has been looking for you, and you turn up here - ruining my hunt.” Serahlin swallows, trying to keep her composure while the huntress looks her over.

“Such a pretty thing, and powerful too.” She trails a finger down Serahlin’s cheek making Serahlin wish she could blast the huntress away too. But the field seems to be activated only by aggression. Andruil tilts her head to the side and a sickening smile spreads across her face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Falon’din I found you. No, I think I’ll keep you all to myself. You! Pick her up! Gag her and put her in the wagon. Set for Tavathan!” Andruil rises and walks from Serahlin just in time for her to be picked up by a large hunter who smells horrible. She tries to struggle but her limbs remain uncooperative.

Let me go! She wants to scream. She wants to kick and scream and run far from this place. She only meant to warn Adannar, she never thought...she never thought she would become a target.

She is carried out of the lair and to a large wagon that looks like it was originally meant to hold other hunting trophies. Large hunting trophies, dragon sized trophies. She is tied to a railing, gagged, and she tries very hard not to cry. It is the only battle she wins that day.

Venavismi knows many things when it comes to elves. Ana trusts him when he says that the people are dangerous and she should stay away. But she is also terribly curious when after they leave, they return. Their return is relayed to her by the whispers in the wind and the rustle of leaves, the skittering of small animals in the brush. Tales of death and destruction come with them, making Ana frown.

When night falls and Vena is safely sleeping in his little man-hut, she journeys to see what the people are doing. Particularly this Andruil. Vena had such an interesting reaction to her, a mixture of fear and resignation.

Ana is silent as she makes her way through her section of the forest. She climbs several trees and perches herself in the high canopy of an old tree that has always been kind to her. It allows her to sit upon its branches shrouded in shadow as she watches the camp of elves below. The wind carries the people’s whispers to her ears and from them she learns that the Princess Andruil has returned from her hunt. But the Lady was unsuccessful...something happened?

What had the princess been hunting? If she is so good to inspire such fear in Vena and to have the pelts of bears, wolves, wyverns, great bears, and even more - what kind of creature must have eluded her?

Someone whispers dragon and Ana swallows, sick to her stomach. Both Adannar and Selene are her friends, they are creatures of the forest just as much as her. Well, perhaps not Selene, but she has been here long enough that Ana considers her part of the forest. Andruil failed, which is good! That means her friends escaped her!

“She brought back something else, though. It’s in the wagon, she’s told everyone to stay away from it except for the hunters.”

“Damn hunters get to know everything.”

The wind carries more whispers to Ana, making her frown. Something else? What else could she have recovered that could compare to a dragon? Carefully, Ana makes her way around the camp, careful of the wards they have placed. She sticks to the trees until she is high above the wagon in question.

Oh no. No, no, no.

A forest creature like Ana sits in the wagon, her glow clear and radiant, full of life. She is tied to the wagon, slumped and hurting. It is wrong!

Ana hastily climbs back down and runs to her tree and Vena. She needs his help to break the creature free!

She flings the door to the structure open, “Vena! Wake up!”

“What?! Are we under attack?!” He sits up straight immediately, grabbing the sword he keeps next to the bed, eyes wild.

“Andruil has taken a forest creature! We must rescue her!” She declares. Vena does not immediately answer her, instead setting the sword down.

“Andruil? I told you to stay away from her! That forest creature could be you!” He says as if to dissuade her from their task.

“Exactly! That is why we must go free her,” she says.

“Ana -

“Please, help me,” she asks and she is met with a heavy sigh.

“We will scout it out, then decide from there - alright?” It’s enough for now, she nods readily. She lets him don his armor - shitty armor is still better than no armor.

She shows him the way, moving through the brush as quickly as they dare. They stick to the forest floor rather than a tree - Vena still needs to improve his tree climbing abilities. She gets them as close to the wards as possible and points to the wagon.

“In there,” she whispers.

Vena directs his attention to the wagon and goes still, “That is not a forest creature,” he whispers.

“Yes she is! She glows like one of us!” Ana argues but Vena shakes his head slowly.

“That is Princess Serahlin of Eletharan.”

“That...that is impossible!”

“I know her! I met her at a dinner Sylaise hosted once, that is Serahlin. And Andruil will not give her up easily. We cannot do this alone, Ana,” he says. Ana frowns and looks back at the creature, this...Serahlin. She glows like a forest creature, and perhaps something happened to her. Ana has heard of stories of elves and others becoming one with the forest - perhaps this is what they speak of. Whatever she is, Ana is certain that this Serahlin does not deserve to be captured by Andruil.

“We can’t do nothing.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Vena says, “do you have forest friends? Little critters who can help us?” Vena asks and Ana thinks. She could ask...it would be a lot to ask, particularly since they’re still in hiding, but they would understand the circumstances.

“I do, but they’re not little,” she replies, “how good are you at riddles?”

24 notes · View notes

raflangslim · 3 years

Text

This is the sound of dancing architecture

“I get to corner Ralf Hütter in a cluttered backwater of EMI house, for a conversational nexus in which we poke theories at each other through the language barrier… Frank Zappa said "writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” This is the sound of dancing architecture…“

An interview with Ralf Hütter by Andrew Darlington, 1981 (the taped conversation is written up later).

Red man. Stop. Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier. Green man. Go. People respond, regulated by the mechanical switch of coloured lights. Crossing the Pelican towards EMI House it’s easy to submerge in a long droning procession of Kraftwerkian images, pavement thick with lumbering showroom dummies reacting to Pavlovian stimuli, parallel lines of thruways, multi-legged ferroconcrete skyways, gloss-front office-blocks waterfalling from heaven, individuality drowned, starved to extinction, etc, etc. This could get boring. This could be cliché. Ideas prompt unbidden, strategies of sending my cassette recorder on alone to talk to the Kraftwerk answering machine. That’s Kraftwerk, isn’t it? I got news for you. It ain’t.

Ralf Hütter (electronics and voice) is neat, polite, talks quietly with Teutonic inflection, and totally lacks visible cybernetic attachments. He’s dressed in regulation black — as per stereotype — slightly shorter than me which makes him five-foot-eight-inches, or perhaps nine, hair razored sharp over temples not to allow traces of decadent side-burns. Shoes are black, but sufficiently scuffed to betray endearingly human imperfections. He walks up and down reading review stats thoughtfully provided by EMI’s press division. Seems it’s a good review in The Times? Strong on technical details… yes? "No. The writer says we play exactly as on the records, which is not so.” He is evidently chagrined by this particular line of criticism, which is an interesting reaction. I file it for reference. But then again he’s just got up and come direct from his hotel. He wants breakfast. Coffee and cakes. An hour or so to talk to me, then down to Oxford for the dauntingly exacting Kraftwerk sound check rituals. The other Kraftwerkers — Florian Schneider (voice and electronics), Karl Bartos and Wolfgang Flür (both electronic percussion) are otherwise occupied. So every vowel must count. I extend a tentative theory. The image Kraftwerk project of modernity, it seems to me, is largely derived from twenties and thirties originals: the Futurist dedication to movement and kinetic energy; the Bauhaus emphasis on clean, strictly functional lines; the Fritz Lang humans-as-social-ciphers thing. Even an album ‘inspired’ by Soviet Constructivist El Lissitzky with all the machine-art connotations that implies. Doesn’t Hütter find this contradictory? “No. In the twenties there was Futurism in Italy, Germany, France. Then in the thirties it stopped, retrograded into Fascism, bourgeois reactionary tendencies, in Germany especially…” And time froze for forty years. Until the Kraftwerk generation merely picked up the discarded threads, carried on where they’d left off. After the war “Germany went through a period with our parents who were so obsessed with getting a little house, a little car, the Volkswagen or Mercedes in front, or both All these very materialistic orientations turning Germany into an American colony, no new idea were really happening. We were like the first generation born after the war, so when we grew up we saw that all around us, and we turned to other things.” Kissing to life a dormant culture asleep four decades?

But computers only print out data they’re programmed with, so working on this already grossly over-extended mechanistic principle I aim to penetrate Kraftwerk motivations. The dominant influences on them then were — what? American Rock? “No.” In that case, do Kraftwerk fit into the Rock spectrum? “No. Anti - Rock'n'Roll.” So their music is a separate discipline? “Yes, in a way, even though we play in places like Hammersmith. We are more into environmental music.”

So if not Rock, then what? — Berio? Stockhausen? “Yes and no. We listened to that on the radio, it was all around. Especially the older generation of electronic people, the more academic composers — although we are not like that. They seem to be in a category within themselves, and only circulating within their own musical family. They did institutional things — while we are out in the streets. But I think from the sound, yes. From the experimenting with electronics, definitely. The first thing for us was to find a sound of Germany that was of our generation, that was the first records we do. First going into sound, then voices. Then we went further into voices and words, being more and more precise. And for this we were heartily attacked.” He mimics the outrage of his contemporaries — “You can’t do that… Electronics? What are you doing? Kraftwerk? German group — German name? It’s stupid. Music is Anglo-American — it has to be, even when it is in Germany.” The incredulity remains: “Still today, you know. Can you imagine? — German books with English titles, German bands singing English songs. It’s ridiculous!”

Of course it is. But didn’t the Beatles do some German-language records at one time? “Sure” shrugs Hütter, friendly beyond all reasonable expectations. “They were even more open than most of the Germans…” I’d anticipated some mutual incomprehensibility interface with his broken English and my David Hockney Yorkshire. You find the phrasing strange? I’ll tell you… when the possibility of doing this interview first cropped up I ransacked my archives and dug out everything on Kraftwerk I could find. Now it occurs to me that each previous press chat-piece, from Creem to Melody Maker, have transposed Herr Hütter’s every utterance into perfect English. Which is not the case. His eloquence is daunting, but it inevitably has very pronounced Germanic cadences. Sometimes he skates around searching for the correct word, other times he uses the right word in the wrong context. When he says “we worked on the next album and the next album, and just so on”, it really emerges as “ve vork on ze next album und ze next, und just zo on”. It might be interesting to write up the whole interview tape with that phonetic accuracy, but it would be difficult to compose and impossible to read. Nevertheless, I’m not going to bland out his individuality by disinfecting his speech peculiarities, or ethnically cleansing his phrases entirely…

But now he’s in flight and I’m chasing, trying to nail down details. In my head it’s now turn of the decade — sixties bleeding into the seventies, and this thing is called Krautrock. Oh, wow! Hard metallic grating noises, harder, more metallic, more grating and noisier than Velvet Underground, nihilistic Germanic flirtations with the existential void. Amon Düül II laying down blueprints to be electro-galvanised into a second coming by PiL, Siouxsie & The Banshees and other noise terrorists. Cluster. Faust. Then there is the gratuitous language violence of Can, sound that spreads like virus infection from Floh de Cologne and Neu, and Ash Ra Temple who record an album with acid prophet and genetic outlaw Timothy Leary. Was there a feeling of movement among these bands? A kinship?

“No.” One note on the threshold of audibility, shooting down fantasies. “In Germany we have no capital. After the war we don’t have a centre or capital anymore. So instead we have a selection of different regional cultures. We — Kraftwerk — come from industrial Düsseldorf. But Amon Düül II came from Munich, which has a different feeling. Munich is quite relaxed. There’s a lot of landscape around.”

Now for me it’s not just some off-the-top-of-the-head peripheral observation, but the corner-stone of my entire musical philosophy that this affable German is effortlessly swotting, and I’m not letting him off lightly. I restate histories carefully. American Rock'n'Roll happened in 1954 — Memphis, Sun Studios. From there it spread in a series of shock waves, reaching and taking on the regional characteristics of each location it hit. By the mid-sixties a distinctive UK variant had come into being, identifiably evolving out of exposure to US vinyl artefacts, but incontrovertibly also home-grown. Surely Krautrock was evidence that Germany had also acquired its own highly individual Rock voice? It seems to me there is a common feeling, a shared voice among these diverse groups. But he’s not buying. You don’t think so? “No. At least not as far as we were concerned.”

When they started out they recorded in German-language. „We always record in German” he corrects emphatically. „Then we do — like in films, synchronised versions for English. The original records are all German, but we also do French, and now Japanese versions. We are very into the internationalist part.” Continuing this trans-Europe theme he suddenly suggests „Britain is a very historical society. The Establishment. The hierarchy. We come here and we feel that immediately. On the one hand you have this very modern…” he tails off. Starts again, „it’s a schizophrenic country, a modern people, new music and everything, but on the other hand the… how can I say it, a theatrical establishment.” I retaliate, yes — but surely it could equally be argued that all Europe forms a common cultural unit attempting to survive between the historic power-block forces of the USA and the old Soviet Union? Indeed, to journalist Andy Gill, Kraftwerk’s music is „promoting the virtues of cybernetic cleanliness and European culture against the more sensual, body-orientated nature of most Afro-American derived music” ('Mojo’s August 1987). Europe shares a common heritage uniting Britain, Germany and France, which are all being subtly subverted by a friendly invasion of American Economic and McCultural influences, movies, records, clothes? Witter himself once said „in Germany, Pop music is a cultural import”. „Yes, I know. Certainly when we came to Birmingham (England) we thought it was similar to Düsseldorf. There’s no question. But in Germany it happens even more though, because here in England at least you notice, you know the language and everything. In Germany they don’t notice, it was just taken over.”

I’d always considered the German language to be a defence against foreign influence. It was far easier for mainstream British culture to be accessed, and infiltrated because of a common American-English language. In France, for example, the Government is actively resisting the 'Anglicisation’ of their language through 'Franglaise’, because they rightly see its corruption as the thin end of the wedge. “Maybe. That should be checked. But you, together with the Americans had another situation to start with. After the war, Germany was finished. I’m not saying why or whatever, that’s OK. But when I grew up we used to play around the bomb-fields and the destroyed houses. This was just part of our heritage, part of our software. It was our education and cultural background…” The spectre of Basil Fawlty springs unbidden. Earlier an entirely innocent question about Kraftwerk’s origins had dislodged similar sentiments. He’d spoken of Germany’s Fascist years — “in Germany especially, that’s what I mostly knew about, then all the (artistic / creative) people emigrated, Einstein had to leave, and everybody knows the reasons. And then only after the war — he came back. But I think Germany went through a period, with our parents, who had never had anything. They went through two wars…”

Breakfast becomes manifest. Mushroom quiche — no meat — followed by a choice of apricot or apple flan, plus two coffees. I sit opposite him, tape machine on the floor between us picking up air, the windows of EMI House blanding out over the trees of Manchester Square. I’m marshalling scores. So for, not content with winning each verbal exchange hands down, Ralf Hütter has also squashed each of my most cherished illusions about Krautrock. But on the plus side, massive giga-jolts of respect are due here. Long before the world had heard of Bill Gates or William Gibson, when Silicon Valley was still just a valley and mail had yet to acquire its 'e’ pre-fix, Kraftwerk were literally inventing and assembling their own instruments, expanding the technosphere by rewiring the sonic neural net, and defining the luminous futures of what we now know as global electronica. So perhaps it’s time to probe more orthodox histories?

It seems to me there are two distinct phases to Kraftwerk’s career. Or perhaps even three. The first five years devoted purely to experimental forays into synchromeshed avant-electronics, producing the batch of albums issued in Britain through Vertigo — Kraftwerk in 1972, Ralf Und Florian the following year, the seminal Autobahn in 1974, and the compilation Exceller 8 in 1975. Then they switch to EMI, settle on a more durable line-up and the subsequent move into more image-conscious material, a zone between song and tactile atmospherics. The third, and current phase, involves a long and lengthening silence.

"No, it wasn’t like that” says Hütter. “It was…” his hand indicates a level plane. 'There was never a break. It was a continual evolution. We had our studios since 1970, so we always worked on the next album, and the next album, and so on. I think Düsseldorf therefore was very good because we brought in other people, painters, poets, so that we associated ourselves with…“ his sometimes faulty English — interfacing with my even more faulty German — breaks down. The words don’t come. So he switches direction. “Also we had some classical training before that [Ralf and Florian met at the Düsseldorf Conservatory], so we were very disciplined.” Others in this original extended family of neo-Expressionist electro-subversives included Conny Plank (who was later to produce stuff for Annie Lennox’ The Tourists, and Ultravox), Thomas Homann and Klaus Dinger (later of Neu), artist Karl Klefisch (responsible for the highly effective Man Machine sleeve), and Emil Schult (who co-composed Trans-Europe Express). In the subsequent personnel file, as well as Hütter, there is Florian Schneider who also operates electronics and sometimes robotic vocals. While across the years of their classic recordings they are set against Karl Bortos and Wolfgang Flür who both manipulate electronic percussion.

I ask if they always operate as equal partners. “Everybody has their special function within the group, one which he is good at and likes to do the most.” It was never just Ralf und Florian plus a beatbox rhythm section? “No. It’s just that we started historically all that time ago and worked for four years with about twenty percussionists, and they would never go into electronics, so we had to step over, banging away and things like that. And then Wolfgang came in.”

With that sorted out I ask if he enjoyed touring. „Yes, basically, because we don’t do it so often. But we also enjoy working in our studios in Düsseldorf, we shouldn’t tour too much otherwise… we get lost somewhere, maybe! We get too immunised. When you have too much you must shut down because you get too many sounds and visions from that tour. For the first five years we toured always in Germany on the Autobahns — that’s where that album came from. Since 1975 we do other countries as well.” They first toured the USA in March 1975, topping the bill over British Prog-Rockers Greenslade, then — leaving an American Top Thirty hit, they went on to play eight British dates in June set up for them by manager Ira Blacker.

How much of that early music was improvised? Was the earlier material 'freer’? Kraftwerk numbered Karl Klaus Roeder on violin and guitar back then, so are the newer compositions more structured? „No. We are going more… now that we play longer, work longer than ten years, we know more and every afternoon when we are in the Concert Hall or somewhere in the studio we just start the machines playing and listen to this and that. Just yesterday we composed new things. Once in Edinburgh we composed a new piece which we even included in that evening’s show. New versions on old ideas. So we are always working because otherwise we should get bored just repeating. And it’s not correct what he (the hostile gig reviewer) was saying — that we play on stage exactly like we sound on the record. That’s complete rubbish. It means people don’t even notice and they don’t listen. They go instead over to the Bar for a drink! We, our music is very basic, the compositions are never complex or never complicated. More sounds — KLINK! KLUNK!! Metallic sound. We go for this sound composition more than music composition. Only now they are thematically more precise than they were before.”

After so long within the genre don’t they find electronics restricting? „No, just the opposite.” Words precise with the sharp edge of Teutonic resonance. „We can play anything. The only restrictions we do find are, like in writing, as soon as you have a paper and pen — or a computer or a cassette recorder and a microphone, and you bring ideas, you find the limitation is in what you program rather than what is in the microphone or the cassette. You — as a writer, writing this interview, can’t say that the piece you are writing is not good because the word processor did not pick out the right words for you. It’s the same with us. If we make a bad record it’s because we are not in a good state of mind.”

Change of tack. There’s a lot of Kraftwerkian influence around. Much of current electro-Dance seems to be plugged directly into the vaguely 'industrial’ neuro-system that Hütter initially delineated, while dedicated eighties survivalist cults Depeche Mode and Human League also have Kraftwerk DNA in their gene-code. He nods sagely. “There’s a very good feeling in England now. It was all getting so… historical.” Is the same thing happening in Germany now? Is there a good Rock scene there? “No. But New Music (Neu Musik).”

Hütter’s opinions on machine technology have been known to inspire hacks of lesser literary integrity to sprees of wild Thesaurus-ransacking adjectival overkill, their vocabularies straining for greater bleakness, more clone-content, 'Bladerunner’ imagery grown bloated and boring through inept repetition. And sure, Kr-art-werk is all geometrical composition, diagonal emphasis, precision honed etc, but their imagery is not entirely without precedent. Deliberately so. Their 'Man-Machine’ album track “Metropolis” obviously references German Fritz Lang’s 1926 proto-SF Expressionist movie. The sleeve also acknowledges the 'inspiration’ of Bauhaus constructivist El Lissitzky. I went on to hazard the connections with German modern classical music bizorro Karlheinz Stockhausen — particularly on Kraftwerk’s Radio-Activity album, where they use the 'musique concrete’ technique of surgical-splicing different sounds together from random areas. Radioland uses drop-in short-wave blips, bursts and static twitterings, Transistor has sharp pre-sample edits, alongside the pure found-sound audio-collage The News. A technique that resurfaces as late as Electric Cafe, where The Telephone Song is made up of 'phone bleeps and telecommunication bloopery. He’s familiar with the input. Immediately snaps back the exact location of the ideas — Kurzwellen, from Stockhausen’s back-catalogue. And what about the aural applications of Brion Gysin/William Burroughs’ literary cut-up experiments? Is there any interaction there? “Maybe” he concedes. “'Soft Machine’, contact with machines. But we are more Germanic.” He pauses, then suggests “we take from everywhere. That’s how we find most of our music. Out of what we find in the street. The Pocket Calculator in the Department Stores.”

The music is the message — 'the perfect Pop song for the tribes of the global village’ as Hütter once described it. The medium and the form? “If the music can’t speak for itself then why make music? Then we can be writers directly. If I could speak really everything I want with words then I should be working in literature, in words. But I can’t, I never can say anything really, I can’t even hardly talk to the audience. I don’t know what to say. But when we make music, everything keeps going, it’s just the field we are working in, or if we make videos we are more productive there.”

I quote back from an interview he did with Q magazine in July 1991 where he suggests that traditional musical skills are becoming increasingly redundant. “With our computers, this is already taken care of,” he explains. “So we can now spend more time structuring the music. I can play faster than Rubenstein with the computer, so it [instrumental virtuosity] is no longer relevant. It’s getting closer to what music is all about: thinking and hearing.”

So technology should be interpreted as a potentially liberating force? “Not necessarily. I don’t always find that. Dehumanising things have to be acknowledged. Maybe if you want to become human, first you have to be a showroom dummy, then a robot, and maybe one day…” An expressive wave. “People tend to overestimate themselves. I would never say I am very human. I still have doubts. I can project myself as a semi-god. I can do that. The tools exist for me to achieve that. But I’d rather be more modest about this, about our real function in this society, in these blocks here,” indicating out through the plate glass, across the square, to the city towers of finance and global commerce beyond. “People overestimate themselves. They think they are important. They think they are human.”

I’m out of synchronisation again. Surely, if people have to extricate themselves from the machinery they have created, to become human, then it’s due to the imperfections of the technology — not the people. Machines are intended to serve, if they do otherwise, they malfunction. “Not so. They should not be the new slaves. We are going more for friendship and co-operation with machines. Because then, if we treat them nice, then they treat us nice. You know, there are so many people who go in for machines, who when you come to their homes their telephones are falling to pieces, their music centres don’t function, the television set is ruined. But if you take care of your machines then they will live longer. They have a life of their own. They have their own life-span. They have a certain hour of duration. There are certain micro-electronics which work a thousand hours. Then there is a cassette recorder battery which operates ten or twelve hours.” The mentality you oppose, then, is that of conspicuous consumption, planned obsolescence, the psychology of 'a spoilt child’?

“The energy crisis, the whole thing is a result of thinking that everything is there, we just have to use it, take this, and — PTOOOOFFF! — throw it away. But make sure that the neighbours see! This whole attitude of disassociating oneself from machines — humans here and machines over there. When you work so much with machines — as we do — then you know that has to change.”

Earlier he’d spoken of growing up 'playing around the bomb-fields and destroyed houses’ in the wake of WWII, so this respect for material possessions is perhaps understandable. But he sees beyond this. He sees machines having the potential to free people physically from unnecessary labour, and culturally to create whole new thinking.

“I mean — where is my music without the synthesiser? Where is it?” The music, the intelligence, is in your head. Without that the synth is just….“

"Yes, bringing it about! The catalyst. We are partners. We two can together make good music, if we are attuned to each other.” But you could operate another instrument. The vehicle you use is incidental. You could walk out this building, buy a new synth here in London, and play it just as well as your own equipment in Düsseldorf. “Yes. That is because I have this relationship with this type of thing.”

I’m reproducing this exactly as it happens, and still I’m not exactly sure what he’s getting at. Perhaps something is lost in the language gap. Like earlier, he’d said “I would never say I am very human” and I’d accepted it first as role playing — until he’d made it obvious that he equates 'becoming human’ with 'achieving freedom’. Humanity is something that has to be earned. You can’t be robot and human. But this is not a natural conversation. This is on interview. A marketing exercise designed to sell Kraftwerk records by projecting certain consumer-friendly imagery. He is playing games, and this cyber-spiel is what journalists expect from Kraftwerk? But to Ralf Hütter there seems to be more to it than that. He believes what he is saying. At least on one level. Some impenetrable levels of ambiguity are at work concerning this alleged relationship to technology.

Baffled, I skate around it. What crafty work is afoot for the future? “For me? For Kraftwerk? Well, certain things that I had to remember and memorise and think about are now programmed and stored. So there’s no restriction that we have to rehearse manually. There’s no physical restriction. I can liberate myself and go into other areas. I function more now as software. I’m not so much into hardware. I’m being much more soft now since I have transferred certain thoughts into hardware. That is why we put those two words together Software/Hardware on the album. Because it is like a combination of the two — Man/ Machine — otherwise it would not be happening. We can play anything. Our type of set-up — and group, the studio, the computers and everything. Anything.”

So what’s new in electronics, Ralf? “What we find now is like, a revolution in machines. They are bringing back all the garbage now that has been put into them for the last hundred years and we are facing a second, third and fourth Industrial Revolution. Computers. Nano-electronics. Maybe then we come back into Science Fiction? I don’t know.” Then, on inspiration, “there’s another thing coming out. 'Wet-Ware’, and we function also — in a way, as Wet-Ware.”

I’m hit by a sudden techno-blur of off-the-wall ideas, imperfectly understood concepts of some electro-erotic wet ’T’-shirt ritual in the pale blue wash of sterile monitors. What is 'Wet-Ware’, Ralf? Spoken with bated breath. And he explains. Like hardware is machines. Software is the data that is fed into them. “Wet-Ware is anything biochemical. The biological element in the machine!” The programmer? I see. Fade into intimations of cybernetic übermensch conspiracies.

So with these limitless vistas of techno-tomorrows, Kraftwerk will continue for some time yet? "Yoh. Yes.” Pause, then the laugh opens up, “… until we fall off the stage!”

Auf Wiedersehen, Ralf…

Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier…

0 notes

binbunmusic · 3 years

Text

My vinyl records (66-70)

I’ve been postponing this for too long. So take make up for it, here’s two vinyl updates for the price of one! :D

Rina Sawayama’s debut-album ‘SAWAYAMA’ (Gold coloured vinyl)

Kinda stumbled upon this by accident. I remember it was through an Antano Fantanthony video, which is noteable ‘cause I never really watch his videos. Clicking that thumbnail might have been the best decision I’ve made all year. I mean, apart from ordering all these vinyl records (which, in hindsight, might’ve also been a mistake if you ask my bank account lol) Imo this album is definitely up there as one the top 5 best releases of 2020. I must admit, I was a bit disappointed by the colour, as it was more dirt brown than gold. plus the cover photo is a bit blurry. But maybe I’m a bit too much of a perfectionist when it comes to these things lol. Joking aside, I still LOVE the album to bits despite all that, and hey; we all know looks aren’t everything.

Favourite tracks: Comme Des Garçons (Like The Boys) and Snakeskin

(front)

(back)

(record)

________________________________________________________________

Born Ruffians’ album ‘Juice’ (Limited edition Yellow coloured vinyl)

I was so excited when I heard Born Ruffians was releasing a new album. I’ve never been disappointed with anything they’ve released so far, so I felt quite comfortable pre-ordering it when it became available. Funny thing is the album release was right around the time ACNH came out, and one of the band members was randomly streaming the game up to, and a bit after the album release. I really miss those streams. It was such a surreal time because of covid as well, and it honestly feels more like 6 years have past since, rather than 6 months. But I guess a lot of people feel that way. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is this album takes me back to that chaotic, but somehow much simpler time. Oh, and you all need to listen to Dedication ‘cause it SLAPS.

Favourite tracks: Dedication and Breathe

(front)

(back)

(record)

________________________________________________________________

Poppy’s album ‘I Disagree’ (Gatefold Clear w/ Red splatter coloured 2LP)

Again, I stumbled upon this album randomly, around the same time I believe. I heard of Poppy a long time ago, but I haven’t really checked out her channel in a while. I saw a thumbnail for one of her new music videos in my feed which (for all I knew) looked quite uncharacteristic. And so, I went down the rabbit hole, and it did not disappoint.

I wasn’t sure if it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, or if I would continue to enjoy the album, so I waited a bit before ordering the vinyl. What I had not anticipated was how many different coloured vinyl she released this album on. (I only discovered this after the fact.) I went with the only version I could find on a danish website. Like with SAWAYAMA, I was kind of disappointed with the “Red” splatter, as it looks more like pink nail-polish than blood-splatter (which I assume was the intentended “look” she was going for) But I love everything else about the vinyl - especially the inner sleeve that was included, which I had to hang it on the wall next to my other favourites ^^ (pic below) I can’t say I regret buying it - it’s a great album! But who knows - maybe I’ll trade it for another version at a later time.

Favourite tracks: I Disagree and Sit/Stay

(front)

(back)

(record)

(inside)

(inner sleeves wall display)

________________________________________________________________

Big Gigantic’s album ‘Free Your Mind’ (Gatefold White/Yellow marbled 2LP)

I’ll be the first to admit, this one’s a bit of a wild card. I’m not super familiar with Big Gigantic’s music, so I didn’t have very high expectations for this album. Or any expectations, really. I can’t tell you why I decided to pre-order this, having only listened to the couple of singles that were available. I ususally only do that with artists that I “trust”

And I must say, though I feel kind of indifferent about the sound of the album (I guess it would work well for a house party or smth), I love love LOVE what they did on the inside of the gatefold sleeve. (pic below) I would hang it up like that if I wasn’t so particular about my vinyl collection lmao.

Favourite tracks: Friends (feat. Ashe) and Supergiant

(front)

(back)

(record)

(inside)

________________________________________________________________

Disclosure’s album ‘ENERGY’ (Limited edition, 180 g Marbled 2LP)

I’m gonna say something (only I find) controversial; out my entire vinyl collection, this might be my favourite one. I know I’ve said before that I love all of them equally, but I think it’s safe to say this one sticks out. I’ll tell you exactly why: First of all; Banger tunes? check! Eco-friendly? check! Beautifully marbled records? check! Signed lithograph and download code printed on 100% recycled paper? check and check!

This album really is something special. You can tell they put a lot of effort and hard work into both the album and the vinyl itself. The inclusion of incredibly talented POC artists is a huge plus as well <3 I have so much more to say, but just I’m gonna end this by saying go LISTEN to it! I can pretty much guarantee you’ll find something on this album you’ll like. Here are my suggestions for where to start:

Favourite tracks: My High (feat. slowthai) and Ce n’est pas

(front)

(back)

(record - AB)

(record - CD)

(inside)

#update #vinyl collection

0 notes

caemec · 7 years

Note

Hi! I really loved your friends with mcl boys headcanons

Hi honey ! Thank you for your request ! Sorry for the time it took me, I was so busy those days, and that headcanon requires a real work (I’m too lazy to make it with one stroke). But finally, here we are.

As for the MCL version, I will cut the headcanon in two parts, because it will be way too long if I don’t do it. Due to that, I will give you six boys in total, be free to ask for another one, if he is missing.

So, here is the publication’s order of the “To what would a best friend relation with boys look like?” headcanon, in Eldarya version :

Part 1 : Nevra - Ashkore - Leiftan

Part 2 (here) : Chrome - Valkyon - Ezarel

I hope you will enjoy it !

Nevra

In general ?

Chilling with Nevra is never boring, due to a simple reason. Do you remember his drama queen title ? Well, good news, he still has it. It is not always easy to deal with it, it’s always black or white, and his mood can switch in a couple of seconds. However, as a good friend, you love to see him smiling and self-confident, and so, you know how to remember him how great, kind, talented and handsome he is. With Karenn, you are his official ego booster.

He always has a hand on you. Your waist, your shoulders, your hand, your hair, etc. He is so much in the physical contact, but still without any seductive intention. It is his way to express his affection to you. But don’t misunderstand me; he can be as childish as Ezarel (is it possible ?), when he wants. Cute pranks and funny jokes during a reunion ? It’s totally his style.

You are in couple ?

The day you will announce him you have a crush on someone, be ready for a very long drama pose, crocodile tears and a “you don’t love me any more” speech. Right before a smirk, an eyebrow raised and the unavoidable “sooo, what are the details?” You were already traumatized with Karenn’s deny of your privacy ? It’s that you didn’t meet her brother yet. He is so much worse. Because more than just asking for what happened, where, with whom, how, for how long, which place, position, … he will also “gently” tease you in front of your partner. No less.

You know, with that complicit wink to him/her, that means “I wasn’t there, but I know everything, and by everything, I mean everything”. And if you are dating one of his best friends, like Valkyon or Ezarel, he will certainly let go the ashamed “Good job dude”. In front of a whole group, to make things even funnier.

He is in couple ?

Of course he is in couple. Okay, not all the time, but he never stays alone for a long moment. Nevra has his periods. Sometimes, he wants something exclusive with one partner, and the month after, he searches for no-strings attached relations. He manages it like a big boy, doesn’t really need to talk to you for common stuffs. You will mostly listen to funny anecdotes, more than really giving love advices.

Actually, his biggest problem to handle his relations (after his tendency to go see in other pants), is you. People can easily be jealous of your friendship, doubting of your true intentions, and at the end, you always finish as the “threat” to eliminate. Not really friendly, we agree. He is aware of the reputation you sadly have, and will try his best to avoid you problems. It’s not always successful (thanks to his way to remind them you are the number one).

From” best friends” to “more than friends” ?

Believe it or not, but Nevra will never cross the limits with such a close and important friend. You’re not a person like the others. You have a particular place in his heart, someone with a very high value. He cherishes you, and yes, he tends to demonstrate it. One day or another, you could eventually fall for him, and after treating yourself of idiot, you will have to deal with his touchy side, his over-affection and his dangerous fan club.

If he is absolutely sure he has deeper feelings for you too, let’s the love story begins. And honestly, already knowing each other so well before the couple period will help you a lot to understand and manage some delicate times. However, if he doesn’t love you back, he will totally freak out. How could it happen ? When ? Why ? He already sees himself alone under the rain, far away from you because you kicked him out of your life, without any friend any more (drama queen, remember). He will do everything he can to not lose you, he’s just too afraid.

Ashkore

In general ?

Oh man, that’s another level of friendship here. A rare one. You will not find deeper than you two. Honestly, being best friends with that guy has to mean you also have a relative dark side. Someone too innocent or honest would never be so close from him. Even if they wanted it, Ashkore wouldn’t look at anyone easily (unless it is to manipulate). You have to win his respect and interest. Once you have done that, he will see you as his equal. That step done, you will be able to count on him, and you shouldn’t be afraid to be stabbed in the back anymore… Normally.

Your complicity is quite clear to everyone else. Playful looks in the hallway, high-fives after common mischiefs or jokes, a few bitchy talks about someone you both don’t like at all, or else unwavering support when the other has some problems with the Guard. You could practically maintain a symbiotic relationship, you’re officially a duo that people tend to respect.

You are in couple ?

Actually, no, it’s already over. The guy/girl has been killed while you were reading this sentence. My condolences. Honestly, it is a risk to take. Ashkore is the most dangerous “other guy” from all the boys, MCL and Eldarya include. When he says “make her suffer and I will make you regret”, he is definitely serious. No one mess with his best friend. No one. And he makes sure that everyone knows that. The reason of his true dangerousness is probably that you are one of the rare persons he actually really loves, in a good way. Even if he says the contrary, he needs you, smiling and shinning if possible.

If you secretly became close enough to call each other best friends while he still plays to hide and seek in the HQ with a pan in the hand, you already know where to find him during the night (your partner’s bedroom, probably under the bed, planning which terrific words he will tell him/her to give him/her nightmares).

The funniest thing would be you dating Nevra or Miiko. They hate him, and he is giving it right back. He will act like a child for a while, always on your side during argues, will have that insupportable smirk when he sees them, even for no reason. He was already their nightmare before, but thanks to you, now he will literally bring hell to them.

He is in couple ?

Ashkore in couple ? It would be something to see. A true couple, I mean. Not what comes from his certain talent to seduce people, play a little with them, for a mission, his “professional interest” (you know, messing with the entire world) or even his own pleasure. You see that kind of scenario way too much, that you don’t even really care about that now. And let’s be honest, between you two, he is the most capable to handle the consequences of a relationship by himself.

The day he will present you a girl, you will literally choke in your glass. Like, a girl ? A true one ? And she came of her own free will ? First, you will be suspicious, you doubt about her psychological condition, and you will be afraid he just found worse than him. Eventually, your behaviour will tire him, and you both will confront each other. It’s that you never thought Ash would want to be in couple. You always imagined him… above such things ?

From” best friends” to “more than friends” ?

Honestly, people secretly think since the beginning something happened between you. And come on, you must admit that your relation is not totally innocent. That guy is literally born with something catchy, seductive, intriguing. There is no happy medium. You hate him or you love him. Even you are not insensible to his aura, you are as much concerned as the others. If for a long time you called that friendship, you both knew it was deeper than just that, and always a little ambiguous. It was a question of time before one of you make the first step.

It probably began with a quarrel, a stolen kiss, an instant of confusion, a deep look, before you literally jumped on each other and finished in a dark corner. It was rough, passionate, animal, and it lets both of you completely in desire for the other one. With Ashkore, it will maybe stay at that stage for a moment. You are totally friends with (a lot of) benefits, until the day where one of you will finally take the courage to face those strange feelings. Still, don’t expect a cute and romantic relation, he’s all about passion and desire. And if you’re too, well, it will be quite electric…

Leiftan

In general ?

You know everything about him. And by everything, I include his mysterious side. It took you a while to discover what he was hiding, but once you did, your relation became stronger. He is quite relieved someone knows the truth about him, because he finally can talk to you without reservation and be himself. You offers him an instant of peace, it’s refreshing. Of course, you will talk a lot about you too. Leiftan has that thing, that makes you speak freely.

Your particular friendship is probably not as obvious for the outside as the one with Nevra, Ezarel or Ashkore. Leiftan is quite shy in public, and will not show a lot of affection easily. Kind gestures are for when there is only the two of you. You are not stuck together, despite your relation, you are both quite independent, and prefer to be alone to talk.

You are in couple ?

Well, it also means Leiftan suddenly became your private therapist. That boy must be superhuman (figure of speech), because he can listen to your complaints for hours without being bored or drained at the end. Even more, he boosts you, and gives you the courage to do what you are afraid of. He’s an angel, in those circumstances.

But don’t worship him too much, because he also can act like a freaking mom. Where were you last night ? With whom ? Was the person nice ? You’re not hurt ? Don’t you feel too uncomfortable in your couple ? He can be so tiresome when he wants. He wants the best for you, obviously, and you thank him for that, but he seriously needs to take a nap from time to time. It’s lost by advance if you date someone too flirty or “not to his taste” (Nevra, Ezarel or Ashkore, to name them).

He is in couple ?

Leiftan in couple is the cutest thing you ever saw in your entire life. You seriously want to pinch his cheeks every time he speaks about his loved one, or is with him/her. You even already see them under the arch. You’re so happy to see him with that stupid lover face and those fireworks in the eyes. He deserves it, if people ask you. And everything is perfect for everyone.

Until the day Leiftan will start to feel guilty, because of that thing no one knows. He thinks he betrays his partner’s trust, he doesn’t deserve love or affection, and you will have to be there as much as you can, to stop him from breaking up and making everyone suffer. Good luck to manage a Leiftan in that state, he’s a mess. Finally, he needs you as much as you do; you both comfort each other and remember that you are great people.

From” best friends” to “more than friends” ?

Leiftan is always so kind, sweet and attentive, that you will not remark that his way to see you changed. It’s obvious to other people, but you will always send them back with a “nah, no way, we’re just besties”. That’s called deny, you just jumped in it with both feet. However, if you finish by also feel something for him in return, your relation could turn over a new leaf.

In contrast with the other boys, even being fully aware of your mutual feelings could not lead you to the couple status. You could be afraid to do something wrong, to hurt him, to make the first step, to try new things, to be seen as the new pair in the Guard, etc. Him ? If he clearly understand in which position you are, he will be absolutely against rushing. If he has to take months or years to having you and to suppress your fears, he will. It’s all an affair of patience.

🎀 Masterlist 🎀 MCL— Part 1 🎀 MCL — Part 2🎀 MCL— Part 3🎀

#eldarya #beemov #eldarya headcanon #eldarya nevra #eldarya gif #eldarya ash #eldarya ashkore #eldarya leiftan #eldarya valkyon #eldarya chrome #eldarya ezarel #eldarya boys

165 notes · View notes

pjbehindthesun · 7 years

Text

chapter 1: bears, bourbon, and the boyfriend

Sat, June 9th, 1990

I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn my car off the highway and onto the quiet back road that leads to my favorite hiking trail up in the Northern Cascades. A good hour left on the drive still, but at least this is the peaceful part. Not much relaxes me more than watching civilization recede into the rearview mirror. It’s like dying a little death, seeing the sights and sounds of human disturbance get fewer and farther between, like a heartbeat slowing to a stop on a monitor, until I’m the only person left, with only the wilderness providing background noise like a flatline.

I can’t help but imagine Alex in the passenger seat. Here’s the point in the conversation where he would grumble something about my morbid, misanthropic tendencies, if he were here. Of course, he isn’t here… hiking isn’t really his thing. For what felt like the millionth time, he’d agreed to come along and then bailed on my way out the door. On my way out of town, I’d called him from the lab, where I had a few loose ends from the week to tie up, to try and cajole him one last time. It didn’t go well.

“Are you sure? I can come back and get you, I’m almost done here, I could just swing back home and –”

“– nah, that’s okay, just go.”

“I was just really looking forward to this, Alex.”

“You’ll still have fun! You’ll have more fun out there without me, honestly, you know I hate it.”

“It’s just, I have my trip coming up soon…”

“Right…”

“…and I was just hoping we could spend some time together –”

“– but that’s my fucking point! WHY can’t we do that here?!”

“Hey, don’t you fucking shout at me.”

“Why do I have to drive out to the middle of nowhere and trudge up a fucking hill to spend time with my girlfriend? What the fuck’s wrong with our apartment?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, but don’t you get bored?”

“Do you? … do you?”

“I mean… not of you, but… Jesus, I just wanted to spend some quality time –”

“– yeah and it only counts if it’s your fucking idea of quality time, not mine.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Just go on your fucking Bataan Death March, I’ll see you tonight.”

He hadn’t slammed the receiver down, but I had still flinched at the click. My idea of quality time, not his. That much was true. His idea of a quality weekend is unplugging the phone from the wall and playing video games around the clock. It’s how he has always wanted to unwind, and I spent countless weekends in college curled up next to him on the little bed in his dorm room with my homework (and the occasional joint out the window) instead of my boyfriend. Since we moved to Seattle after graduation last summer, the room has changed and so have the games – a little less Super Mario, a little more Castlevania – but the rest of the scene has stayed pretty static.

Static. It never bothered me before. For four years, that was my norm. Getting stoned and fucking around in the dorm room felt like what we were supposed to do in college. And I have no objections to getting stoned and fucking around as a theoretical adult, but this particular pastime is wearing thin. Do I even need to be present for his version of quality time?

I’m being a little unfair. I mean, he always turns his attention back to me eventually, and it’s not like I need to be the center of his existence… he’s such a good guy, really. I just wish it wasn’t this difficult to get him to meet me halfway. I can probably count on both hands the number of times I’ve prevailed on him to come camping or hiking with me over our five years together. Maybe even one hand, come to think of it. It just sucks. I love him, and I want so much for him to share in some of the things that make me happy. But I’ve never met anyone more at war with nature than him. I can’t get him to see the beauty of it with me.

I scowl and lean on the gas. The Rabbit does its honest best to keep up, but not without the same precarious wobble it always has at speeds above 60. Bless its heart.

Right before the end of the paved road, I turn into the gravel lot marking the trail head. How long has the car been quiet? Small Change must have run its course in the tape deck a while ago, so there goes my brooding soundtrack. The Rabbit bounces its way over the uneven ground and comes to a halt under the tree I usually park beneath. My jaw clenches at the sight of another car. Shit, please tell me the tourists aren’t coming out here now. I’ve been to this trail a lot over the last year and have never seen anyone else. This, of course, being the basis of its appeal.

I roll up the window and hop out, gathering a wind-tangled mass of hair up into a topknot and pulling on my day pack. I take a deep breath, leave Alex’s ghost in the car, and set off down the dark, dense trail. There have been times over the last year that I’ve missed the mountains back east, all ancient and sleepy and soft, but the comically overgrown plant life and violent skylines of the Pacific Northwest are hard to argue with.

I slowly wind my way up through the forest, gladly losing myself on the walk. Soon, I hit the series of switchbacks that signals the approach of the lookout at the top of the mountain. This is my favorite part of the trail. The trees open up to the left and there’s a partial view of the valley. Down the slope from my spot on the trail, there’s a cluster of burned stumps of giant old trees, the scars of a long-ago forest fire that haven’t yet been overwritten by new growth.

This is just one of those stupid fights every couple has. We’ll fix it when I get home. We always have.

Once I hit the start of the rocky cliff that holds the mountain views I came for, I set down my pack and kneel on the trail to rummage around for my beat-up stainless steel flask of bourbon. No sooner than I lay my hands on it, though, do I spot a tendril of smoke winding up from behind a large rock about twenty feet ahead. Shit, a rocky outcrop is possibly the worst place I could have picked to die in a forest fire – except that isn’t wood smoke I’m smelling.

Furious, I edge around the rock to find a lanky, dark-haired guy stretched out on the ground next to his pack, enjoying the views… and a joint.

“Hey, asshole! You mind not burning the whole place down?”

Well, if we both die out here in an inferno, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I gave the bastard a heart attack first. The guy jumps to his feet and turns to face his attacker, looking very much like a deer in headlights. A very tall deer. I glare daggers up at him.

“What?? Oh…” he chuckles. “no no, girl, I got a system, see?”

I deepen my scowl, not least for being reduced to “girl” as I’m trying to prevent him from destroying my fucking forest. He holds up a small water bottle clouded with ash and makes a big show of carefully dropping the roach in to extinguish it. Then he sets the bottle down, straightens up to his full height, and raises his hand in a Boy Scout salute with mock sincerity on his face.

“Safety first, I always say.” A devilish smirk starts to crack the mask. “Sorry, Smokey Bear, I wish I knew you were coming, I’d have saved you a hit!” He drops his salute and ruffles up his long, unruly mop of black curls, grinning openly at last.

I roll my eyes in aggravation, but if I’m being honest with myself, it takes some willpower not to smile. Irresponsible, maybe, but this guy is also a walking master class in roguish charm. His barely-there pencil mustache lends him a demonic air, like some kind of love child between Errol Flynn and a 19th-century occultist, and the black wardrobe and giant boots don’t do much to dispel the impression. At nearly a foot taller than me, his height is imposing, but his blue eyes are friendly and encouraging. Too bad I’m not having any of it.

“Oh, how considerate of you. I’m sure the weed would really have taken the edge off of my flesh melting off in a fucking wildfire,” I mutter as I scan the ground around his smoking spot for uncontained ashes. There aren’t any. But still. Doesn’t anyone else give a shit? Why are people so irresponsible? This is why I usually avoid them, as a general rule. When I look up, Smoker Guy’s smile has faded into a sheepish wince.

“Ok, ok, you’re right. I was trying to be careful, but yeah, that was an idiotic thing to do. I’m sorry. I don’t even really smoke, ever, I just… I don’t know, I needed to get out of my own head for a bit.” The roguishnes is gone, replaced by a vulnerability so intense and sudden it knocks me back on my heels. He actually seems sincere enough that I feel a tiny bit of pity and embarrassment at having been so colossally rude.

“Ugh. You don’t have to apologize to me,” I hedge, “just… don’t be an asshole out here again.” I offer what I can manage by way of a smile, and his face splits into another wide, warm grin.

“I mean, no promises about being an asshole, but I can swear I won’t burn it down. It’s too beautiful out here!” His voice shakes a couple of birds loose from the tree above our heads.

“It really is,” I muse, scanning the horizon and settling back into some semblance of calm. Smoker Guy senses the opportunity.

“And what did you bring to share with the class, Smokey Bear?” He gestures toward my side with that grin still plastered to his face, and I realize I’m still clutching my flask.

“Bourbon, but, uh… I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else… let alone a class…” I suddenly remember my annoyance at finding any other human, even a charming one, out here in my sanctuary. If it wasn’t going to be Alex, I’m not excited about sharing it with anyone, especially if I’m out here brooding about Alex. I fold my arms, tucking the flask behind my elbow, and fix him with a scowl.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” Oh for fuck’s sake. “No, I didn’t mean it like that…”

Too late. He booms with laughter. “Well now you have to buy me a drink!” He bounds over, snatching the flask out of my hand and dangling it over my head.

The embarrassment’s gotten to me and I can’t help laughing a little now. “Sure, knock yourself out… what’s your name?”

“Chris,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and passing the flask back. “And no, this is my first time coming up here. What’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you Smokey…”

“Cora,” I frown. As I take a drink, I dig through my memory for whatever it was about his name that sparked in the back of my mind. “Chris… do I know you from somewhere? You from Seattle?”

“Yeah, I’m from Seattle, you’ve maybe seen me around…” before waiting, utterly unhelpfully, for me to place him, attempting to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

“Hang on, you’re not…” his grin widens. “Chris, like Soundgarden Chris?”

“Soundgarden Chris,” he shakes my hand a little too vigorously, almost knocking me off balance. “Chris Cornell. You know the band?”

“Yeah, I saw you guys at the Moore a few months back, February I want to say?” he nods. “You’re really good.” I’d even picked up a tape at the merch table that night.

“Usually the hair is the giveaway.” He gives his curls a shake for emphasis.

“Maybe to the more typically statured, sure. I have a hard time actually seeing a band on stage from down here.” I rock onto the tiptoes of my hiking boots.

“Fair enough. Bet people recognize you by your hair a lot, too…” he muses, making to tuck an escaped lock of it behind my ear, but I swat his hand away and shoot him a dirty look.

“Hey man, you don’t want to piss off a bear, do you?” I brush the hair off my forehead myself and sit down on one of the rocks with the best view of the valley. Chris follows and sits down next to me.

“No, not even a tiny little bear like you. But seriously, that’s a great color. Is it –”

“Yes, it’s my natural hair color…” I mutter, wary of what almost always comes next.

“Sorry,” he grins, “just don’t spot too many natural redheads in the wild. You’re like an endangered species.”

“Okay asshole if you think I haven’t heard this fucking line before –”

“W-what line?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Endangered redheads, gotta fuck to save the species. You’re hilarious.”

I look away as I spit the words out before fixing him with a toxic glare, expecting to see him wearing the usual smartass smirk that usually accompanies such obnoxious pickup lines. Instead, his face is frozen in the perfect mix of horror and amusement.

“You… you really weren’t using a line, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” he says in wide-eyed bewilderment, “I promise, I was not offering to procreate with you. I mean I can, if you want, but…” the demonic smile creeps back onto his face.

I wrinkle my nose with a grin and shake my head, handing him the flask back. I’ve misjudged the poor thing a couple of times now, maybe it’s time to let up.

“Sorry. You just wouldn’t believe…”

“Oh, I bet I would. People are animals. I’d sure as shit hate to put up with a quarter of what women have to listen to,“ he says, nodding somberly over his swig of bourbon, and I feel a surge of affection for him that is mixed with guilt for being so judgmental. We sit quietly for a while, drinking and enjoying the view, before he breaks the silence.

“So what do you do for a living, when you’re not laying waste to suitors or educating the public about the dangers of forest fires?”

“I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I’d say it’s ‘for a living,’ but I guess if I’m talking to a musician, you know what that’s like. I’m a PhD student down at UW. And I just took a job waiting tables at the Cyclops in the meantime, because science isn’t exactly the best get rich quick scheme.”

Chris raises his eyebrows mid-drink, clearly curious. “Wow. PhD. Egghead, huh? I like it. What are you studying? Please tell me it’s forest fires. Or bears.” He nudges my shoulder with his, almost knocking me off-balance for the second time, and hands me back my flask.

“Hey! No, nothing like that. I am in the forest science department though…”

“I knew it! You really are Smokey Bear.”

“Ugh, no. I’m studying soils.”

“As in dirt?”

“As in dirt.”

“What about it?”

“I want to understand how changing levels of Arctic ice affect carbon storage in permafrost.”

“Come again?”

Aww, the poor thing looks genuinely interested. I take a deep breath and a swig of bourbon, mentally planning my route. The more time I spend in school, the longer and more pedantic my answer to this “what do you do” question seems to get. Maybe one day I’ll wise up and resort to one-word answers, but I have a feeling that won’t work here.

“Okay, well… the whole global warming thing, right?”

“Yeah?”

I raise my eyebrows, pleasantly surprised by how intently he’s listening. “Ok, so the greenhouse effect… we release carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which traps heat and warms up the planet?” Chris nods. “So, as it gets warmer, Arctic sea ice is covering less and less land area each summer – see, in the winter the Arctic ice cap is pretty consistent, but we can learn a lot about changes in the climate by measuring how small the ice cap melts down in the summer.”

Chris is still nodding, which either means he’s utterly lost and just humoring me, or he’s actually following. I hate that I’m losing my ability to distinguish between the two.

“Well, as the planet warms up, that melting ice cap exposes progressively more and more bare soil each year -”

“Whoa there Professor, this lecture just got sexy!” He barks a laugh that echoes down the cliff, making me wince sheepishly.

“Ugh, gross. Anyway, the soil’s frozen solid –” Chris struggles to get a grip “– and we don’t know a lot about it because it’s always covered over, but the melting ice gives us the opportunity to study it better. So I’m going up there every summer and drilling holes to collect samples.”

“Wow…” he murmurs, looking genuinely impressed. “You go up there by yourself?”

“Yeah. I went last summer. I’m leaving in a few weeks for another trip.”

“Like, no one goes with you? Your boss or whatever?”

“My advisor? I think he’s a myth. He’s never around. So no, he doesn’t go with me… and what, I’m supposed to need a chaperone?”

“No, not at all, I just… that’s pretty badass, Smokey.”

“Yeah, digging in frozen dirt, it’s a fascinating life.”

“No, really, that’s incredible. People like you are going to save all this –” he gestures out at our view, with snow still visible on the highest peaks “– from the rest of us assholes, I’m sure of it. I’m glad you’re doing what you’re doing.”

I can’t tell whether it’s his sincerity or the bourbon that disarms me and makes me blurt out exactly what’s on my mind. “I’m glad I met you, Chris. Not as glad as I am that you didn’t burn us to death, but still. Normally I hate people, but you’re okay.”

He grins as I pass him the last of the bourbon, which he drains. “Don’t get so effusive, you might strain something. You must really hate people if you literally go to the edge of the earth on purpose every year.”

We sit in silence for a while before Chris makes me jump by shouting, “shit, what time is it?”

“Just about 6:30.”

“Shit,” he says again, “Susan’s going to kill me, I’m going to be late.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Susan? So there’s a Mrs. Cornell? How come she didn’t get invited to your degenerate weed party in the woods?”

He shuffles a boot in the dirt and gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, I’m a newlywed, but she’s not Mrs. She kept her maiden name. Susan’s got no time for stuff like this. She’s a big shot music manager. And anyway, she’s, ah, not the outdoorsy type.”

Although Susan sounds kind of cool and I want to ask him more, the edge in his tone reminds me of this morning’s fight with Alex, so I just stand up in silence to help gather our things and hasten our exit.

We head back down the mountain together, making small talk about school, music, the neighborhood – turns out he and Susan used to live only a few blocks away from where I am now in Lower Queen Anne. I’m surprised at how quickly the time has passed when we arrive back at our cars, but the rapidly fading light confirms it’s gotten late.

Chris hurriedly grabs a pen and a piece of paper from a notebook sticking out of his bag and jots down his number. “Cora, don’t lose this, I want to hang out again soon,” he urges. “You should come to our show! We’re playing at the Off Ramp on the 23rd, kind of a going-away thing before we head out on tour.”

“Yeah, that’s right before I go on my trip, I think I can make it.” I tuck the paper into my pocket. When I look up, Chris is already jogging toward his car.

“Drive safe!” he yells over his shoulder.

I shake my head as I climb into the Rabbit. It’s definitely not every day that one runs into a local rock legend almost burning down a forest. But at least he helped me forget about Alex for a couple of hours. Alex. I sigh as I turn the engine over and start my trip home to deal with the fallout.

#chapter 1 #behind the sun #chris cornell #soundgarden #pearl jam #fanfiction #fanfic

33 notes · View notes

americanahighways · 5 years

Text

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

As I loaded up and headed east towards Okemah, and day two of the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival, I couldn’t help but speculate. Could it top the previous day? I mean after all, Thursday’s performances had been exemplary, and I mean each and every single one. How rare is that? I mean, usually in a festival setting you’re bound to get a clunker; a less than enjoyable set for whatever reason. That simply hadn’t happened, and I almost felt like I was struggling with this fact. I decided to chalk it up to a euphoric reaction. The simple presence of music, as well as the welcoming and engaging atmosphere had most certainly played tricks on me somehow. Surely today would expose a shortcoming or a weakness. I readied myself somewhat unconvincingly.

After all, Friday’s lineup was packed with artists that I really, really like, several of whom I’ve seen before, or even reviewed albums or live shows for here on Americana Highways: REVIEW: Tim Easton’s “Exposition” is Vibrant Personal Testimony with Indefinable texture. Additionally, there were several artists that I had been really wanting to see, but for one reason or another hadn’t managed to up to this point. Certainly there would would be a disappointment or two today. As I pulled into downtown Okemah just before 1pm, I immediately noticed an increase in pedestrian traffic. Already, things were well under way, and I immediately regretted not arriving sooner.

Having meticulously studied the festival schedule, I had ensured my arrival would be more than adequate to ensure I didn’t miss Tim Easton’s 2pm set at the Crystal. This proved to be one of the best decisions I made the whole weekend, as it lead to one of my favorite musical discoveries in quite some time. As I made my way into the Crystal, Radoslav Lorković was just starting his set. Over the course of the next 45 minutes or so, Rad (as I came to learn he is affectionately called), along with his accordion and piano performed his unique blend of classical, jazz, country, blues and folk, all accentuated by his Croatian heritage. Throughout the remainder of the festival, Lorković would be in high demand, and would guest on set after set.

Still somewhat mesmerized by Lorković’s set, I settled in for Tim Easton’s. I had recently been given a download of Tim’s new album “Exposition” to review for Americana Highways here: REVIEW: Tim Easton’s “Exposition” is Vibrant Personal Testimony with Indefinable texture and was really excited to see those songs performed live. No disappointment here either. The songs live were even more vibrant and warmly presented than the recorded versions. The context that a song on the album had actually been recorded next door in the Okfuskee County Historical Center really brought things full circle. Already, my day was two for two. Next, as Annie Guthrie began preparing for her set, none other than proud papa Arlo Guthrie walked in from backstage and took a seat next to me at the front of the theatre for his daughter’s performance. It was perhaps the most surreal moment I’ve experienced over the course of several decades worth of concerts. I simply uttered a “Hi Arlo” as he settled in and gave me a friendly return hello and nod. Annie’s set was lighthearted and fun and already day two was looking as memorable as the first.

Next came my first true dilemma of the festival. Two artists I was really excited about seeing would be taking the stage at the same time in different venues. First, I headed over to the closer Bound For Glory tent to catch Nellie Clay. Nellie is an Oklahoma native, that has compiled an impressive catalog of songs as a “ramblin’ gal”. She and her guitar case have traveled some miles, and her songs made her one of my must-see sets. Nellie, who now lives in Okemah, seemed to be everywhere at once. If she actually wasn’t, she should have been an official fest ambassador. I saw and spoke with her at various venues and backstage areas as she showed support for countless artists. Nellie’s good people. Unfortunately, I was only able to take in about half her set, as I also really wanted to see fellow Oklahoman Ken Pomeroy a few blocks west at the Hen House. Despite her young age, Ken is quite an accomplished songwriter and performer and I was happy to finally catch one of her sets. Pomeroy won the first annual Jimmy LaFave Songwriting Contest, and for good reason, her songs are good. Here at the Hen House, she was joined by her band that featured Kyle Reid on guitar, her dad Skip on percussion and Johnny Carlton on bass. As much as I hated leaving Nellie’s set early, I was really glad to catch some of Ken’s songs as well. Pomroy’s set became one of my favorites of the whole fest.

Next, it was back over to the Bound For Glory Tent to catch yet another new favorite, Jared Tyler and band. I had already seen Tyler playing with Monica Taylor on day one, but I absolutely wasn’t prepared that he would also become one of my top three new discoveries of the festival. All three, discovered on the same day no less (Lorković , Pomroy and now Tyler). Joined by Seth lee Jones on guitar Tyler’s set was inspiring and the perfect warm up for one of my local favorites, Carter Sampson. Joined by her band, Luke Mullenix on bass, Kyle Reid on pedal steel, Jack Waters on Drums and Mike Satawake on guitar they tore through her latest album, “Lucky” with a “Queen of Oklahoma” encore. Easily another highlight.

Following Sampson’s set I headed over to a local restaurant for a quick bite before heading over to the Pastures of Plenty main stage for the headline performances. As I ate, I watched artists and coalition volunteers sharing meals and conversation as I processed the day so far. Seven performances on the day so far, and every one outstanding. Hard to believe, but 100% true. I made my way over to the main stage and caught the tale end of the “Songs of Audrey Auld” tribute featuring Nina Gerber, Pam Delgado and Jeri Jones. Auld, an Australian singer songwriter and festival mainstay passed away in 2015. These three ladies played a moving, yet fun set of her songs that culminated in the spreading of a few of Auld’s ashes on the Pastures of Plenty grounds. A really special moment for sure.

Next was one of my most anticipated sets of the weekend with John Paul White’s festival debut. Speaking with John before he took the stage, he joked with me wondering if any in the crowd even knew “who the hell he was”. If they didn’t they certainly did by the time he wrapped up a hypnotic and beautiful solo set. As I moved about photographing throughout his performance, over and over fans and other artists couldn’t stop commenting how wonderful White’s performance was. If White was truly concerned, he surely overcame those concerns with a wealth of new fans. His special rendition of Guthrie’s “Pastures of Plenty” proved to be yet another magical festival moment for me. Closing out Friday night’s performance’s were the one-two punch of Joel Rafael followed by Ellis Paul. Both men are Woody Fest Coalition Advisory Board members, staples of the festival, and add an immeasurable degree of sincerity with their songs. It was my first time seeing each songwriter live, but I certainly hope it won’t be the last. In particular, Raphael’s “Glory Bound” was truly wonderful, while Paul’s moving “God’s Promise” (joined by Terry Ware and Radoslav Lorković) certainly captured my attention.

So here at the close of day two, I pull onto westbound I-40 still somewhat in disbelief of all I’ve taken in so far. Tomorrow’s another day, and I can hardly wait. Day three’s schedule is another super one on paper and at this point I have no doubts that it won’t live up to its promise.

More information on Woody Fest can be viewed here: https://www.woodyfest.com/

Show Review: Woody Fest 2019, Day 2 @johnpaulwhite @woodyfest @cartersampson @kenpomeroy @folklite @folkslinger @rlorkovic @Tim_easton As I loaded up and headed east towards Okemah, and day two of the Woody Guthrie Folk Festival, I couldn't help but speculate.

0 notes

plantrock · 6 years

Text

Hi Internet!

It’s that time of year again. I’m pleased to report that even with moving, traveling, and starting school again, I still managed to read 53 books in 2017. Not as many as last year, but given the chaos my life has been through in the last 12 months I am not in the least upset. 50 books is a good goal for me, as it’s roughly one book a week–though in reality I read in jumps and spurts. Sometimes a book will take two weeks, whereas, in weeks like this one, I’ll read three books in one week.

For this year’s recap I am going to separate the books I read into categories by my ratings, as well as give a one-sentence (ish) review. Want more info? Message me or look up the book!

FIVE STAR

THE POWER, Naomi Alderman

Women around the world spontaneously obtain the ability to generate and control electricity and the chaos that ensues left me shaken in the best way. (WORLD WAR Z meets THE HANDMAID’S TALE.)

GLAMOUR ADDICTION, Juliet McMains

A very readable academic analysis of the socioeconomic landscape of competitive Ballroom dance that had me excitedly annotating from page one.

HAMILTON: THE REVOLUTION, Lin-Manual Miranda & Jeremy McCarter

I mean do I really have to explain this–there’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait.

THE END OF THE DAY, Claire North

A slow-but-emotional travelogue of the adventures of the Harbinger of Death–not my favorite of North’s novels, but contains her characteristically beautiful prose.

THE COLLAPSING EMPIRE, John Scalzi

The first installment in a cinematic space opera series by sci-fi giant Scalzi, EMPIRE is tightly plotted, has fascinating characters, and the far-future world feels familiar without exactly copying others in the genre.

REJECTED PRINCESSES, Jason Porath

Tired of the Grimm and Disney versions? This collection of women from myth, legend, and history around the world explores less convenient and less kid-friendly tales of women who stuck to their guns and caused a ruckus.

SO YOU’VE BEEN PUBLICLY SHAMED, Jon Ronson

Though slightly dated in our modern light-speed internet world, this exploration of the power of social media is required reading for anyone participating in the Feed.

PANDEMIC, Sonia Shah

Yes, I’m a sucker for the world-wide-plague book, but this non-fiction depiction of how epidemics begin, spread, and shape the world we know today is excellent.

SPINNING MAMBO INTO SALSA, Juliet McMains

An ethnographic and historical comparison of the three US cities that spawned Salsa and Mambo, this book is a must-read for anyone interested in social dance and the phenomenon that is Salsa.

EVERYTHING I NEVER TOLD YOU, Celeste Ng

A deft and moving family drama about immigration, middle-class America, and the secrets we keep from those closest to us.

FOUR STAR

SAILING TO SARANTIUM & LORD OF EMPERORS, Guy Gavriel Kay

A lyrical and occasionally violent duology that walks the line between alt-history and fantasy based on the Byzantine empire.

THE REFRIGERATOR MONOLOGUES, Catherynne Valente

THE VAGINA MONOLOGUES meets every superhero story ever–this short-story collection is piercing look at (loosely) veiled comic book tales and the women they have wronged.

THE NURSES, Alexandra Robbins

A non-fiction account of lives of those in the medical field who often seem to play second-fiddle to doctors. (Honestly I don’t remember much about this one, but I must have enjoyed it.)

STORIES OF YOUR LIFE, AND OTHERS, Ted Chiang

A mind-bending collection of science fiction short stories, including the one that inspired the 2016 movie ARRIVAL.

VAMPIRE GOD, Mary Hallub

The most comprehensive academic analysis of vampire media in the 19th through 21st centuries I have ever read.

IT DEVOURS!, Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

This second book in the Night Vale world tackles science vs religion, and though they miss the mark a little, I will always love their prose and the universe they have built.

DANCE WRITINGS AND POETRY, Edwin Denby

This collection of original poetry and arts reviews contains gems from mid-20th-century dance critic Edwin Denby, including a fascinating interview regarding classicism with George Balanchine himself.

THE CITY AND THE CITY, China Mieville

Is it science fiction? Is it artfully written detective fiction? I don’t think I’ve read a book so able to walk that line between fantasy and reality–as the characters walk the lines between their inexplicably separated cities.

BEAUTIFUL FLESH: A BODY OF ESSAYS, edited by Stephanie G’Schwind

A collection of essays from a variety of authors, each focusing on a particular body part and their relationship to it. My personal favorite was a musing on the heart and humans’ relationship to electricity from an author with an implanted defibrillator.

WHAT IS LIFE? HOW CHEMISTRY BECOMES BIOLOGY, Addy Pross

A systems chemists attempt to re-frame how we think about life and its origins on our planet. This book is short but technically dense–good for the trained scientist, less so for the layperson.

THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, Jen Campbell

A quietly creepy collection of fairy tale and folk-lore-influenced short stories. My favorite was the first story, about a man who buys his girlfriend a new heart to ensure that she won’t leave him.

THE QUEEN OF BLOOD, Sarah Beth Durst

A bit of a guilty pleasure read, this fantasy series opener explores a world where the ruler of the realm must fight back malevolent natural forces.

AMBERLOUGH, Lara Donnelly

CABARET the musical in novel form–this darkly beautiful story details the rise of facism in a fantasy world and how it impacts a colorful cast of miscreants.

THE ESSEX SERPENT, Sarah Perry

A beautiful and suspenseful tale of romance and loss in Victorian England, set again the backdrop of a hunt for a fantasy creature.

HILLBILLY ELEGY, J. D. Vance

Both an autobiography and an attempt to explain the socioeconomic situation of Appalachian folks–but I’m conflicted on how much to buy into his arguments. Worth a read, though.

THE DIABOLIC, S. J. Kincaid

This story of a test-tube-grown bodyguard finding her humanity in a crumbling, corrupt space empire is the first YA sci-fi in a while that I didn’t hate!

BALLROOM DANCING IS NOT FOR SISSIES, Elizabeth & Arthur Seagull

Despite the sub-title, there is nothing R-rated about this how-to guide in balancing relationships and ballroom dancing.

DANCE WITH ME: BALLROOM DANCING AND THE PROMISE OF INSTANT INTIMACY, Julia Erickson

Despite the author’s obvious disdain for GLAMOUR ADDICTION (see Five Stars), this sociological analysis of studio ballroom culture lands on many of the same points as that other title, in addition to a hilariously accurate layout of the different performances of gender roles seen on the social dance floor.

THREE STAR

FOSSE, Sam Wasson

High on the drama and the page count, this biography of choreography legend Bob Fosse wastes no opportunity to dip into his sordid history and the seedy side of Broadway.

FUTURE HOME OF THE LIVING GOD, Lousie Erdrich

Despite its lovely prose, this novel doesn’t rise above the fact that it’s basically a less-good retelling of THE HANDMAID’S TALE.

MINDSET, Carol S. Dweck

My boss at my old job ‘suggested’ I read this. I remember nothing about it.

THE MAD SCIENTIST’S GUIDE TO WORLD DOMINATION, Edited by John Joseph Adams

This collection of mad-science-themed short stories was sadly a mixed bag of quality–I loved one or two, barely finished others.

THE AERONAUT’S WINDLASS, Jim Butcher

A rollicking romp through a steampunk fantasy world, though I found the characters stock and the world forgettable. (The cat, though, is worth the price of admission alone.)

THE PALACE THIEF, Ethan Canin

Four not-particularly-memorable short stories concerning isolation and mid-century masculinity.

THREE DARK CROWNS, Kendare Blake

You’d think I’d have learned by now that YA fantasy does not float my boat, but, alas, I went into this tale of warring island factions and powerful queens-to-be expecting more than it delivered.

HOW TO BUILD A GIRL, Caitlin Moran

Sadly the details of this book have also faded, though I recall not understanding the nuances of British classism.

HEADS IN BEDS, Jacob Tomsky

A bit memoir, a bit how-to on cheating the hotel system of years gone by, a bit forgettable.

YOU’RE NEVER WEIRD ON THE INTERNET (ALMOST), Felicia Day

I’ve been a fan of Day since the Guild years, but this memoir suffers from the same problem as most of its internet-personality cohort–her story isn’t over, and the book feels unfinished.

JEROME ROBBINS: HIS LIFE, HIS THEATER, HIS DANCE, Deborah Jowitt

An interesting but dense biography of Broadway legend and second-fiddle-to-Balanchine Robbins. I was glad of the information, but am wary of glorifying a man who had a reputation as a tyrannical director.

DANCING OUT OF LINE: BALLROOMS, BALLETS, AND MOBILITY IN VICTORIAN FICTION AND CULTURE, Molly Engelhardt

Some interesting comparisons between Regency era and Victorian era social dance norms, but this book’s focus on dance depictions in time-period fiction did not hold my interest.

THE HOUSE OF GOD, Samuel Shem

A bizarre and polarizing account of the lives of medical residents in the 1970s that reads like a fever dream.

THEN WE CAME TO THE END, Joshua Ferris

I think this fictionalized account of office life was supposed to be equal parts pathos and satire, but I found it just vaguely sad and forgettable.

FROM BALLROOM TO DANCESPORT: AESTHETICS, ATHLETICS, AND BODY CULTURE, Caroline Picart

The author makes some interesting points about changes necessary to the DanceSport world in order for the sport’s inclusion in the Olympics, but the rest of the book is superseded by GLAMOUR ADDICTION (see Five Star).

AN EMBER IN THE ASHES, Sabaa Tahir

Again with the I-apparently-don’t-like-YA-Fantasy, and this one had the added bonus of being way too violent for my tastes.

THINKING WITH THE DANCING BRAIN, Sandra Minton

Neuroscience 101 for dancers–a nice refresher for me, but not much beyond that.

THE CROWN’S GAME, Evelyn Skye

Romance! Czarist Russia! Romance! Magic! Sadly I didn’t get into the relationship of the main characters.

TANGO AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PASSION, Marta E. Savigliano

This academic analysis of the history of tango and the socioeconomic forces at work during the dance’s creation had some interesting tid-bits, but I found it difficult to read and some stylistic choices hard to decipher.

TWO STAR

ZONE ONE, Colson Whitehead

I love zombie novels, but this one tries to be ‘litrary’ and cerebral and I just found it dull, forgettable, and overly wordy.

THE ANUBIS GATES, Tim Powers

The cover of this absurdist time-traveling fantasy promises way more Ancient Egypt than I actually got. Crazy premise, idiotic characters, and only enough rollicking fun to laugh at.

YOU ARE A BADASS, Jen Sincero

For all its bluster and wanna-be subversiveness, BADASS is a pretty standard self-help book. Sadly I am one of the most self-motivated people I know, so the get-up-and-go was lost on me.

THE BLACK PRISM, Brent Weeks

The fascinating magic system was the only thing carrying me through this mess of unlikable characters and fantasy tropes.

ONE STAR

BALLROOM! OBSESSION AND PASSION INSIDE THE WORLD OF COMPETITIVE DANCE, Sharon Savoy

Never have I disagreed so completely with advice given and conclusions drawn as I did from those of professional-ballet-dancer-turned-cabaret-division-star Savoy. Want a rant? Ask me more.

And that’s a wrap! If you made it all the way down here, thank you for reading, and may you have a wonderful New Year!

A Reading Re-cap: 2017 Hi Internet! It's that time of year again. I'm pleased to report that even with moving, traveling, and starting school again, I still managed to read 53 books in 2017.

#2017 wrap-up #book ratings #book review #books #celeste ng #claire north #favorites #glamour addiction #hamilton #jen campbell #john scalzi #night vale #ted chiang #the power

0 notes