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sanctum-of-ramshackle · 1 year

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“You got a name?” “Deadeye…”

[TWST AU]: In this timeline, there’s an MC/Yuu who is from the Valorant universe.

[Synopsis]: Agent!MC/Yuu is part of the Valorant Protocol and for some twisted reason, they get stuck in a world where magic actually exists.

[Gender Neutral MC/Yuu]

[TW]: Guns, near death experiences, only one death, and the use of Google Translate (because I never took French classes; I’m sorry in advanced for inaccurate translations).

[(A/N)]: I mentioned before that I already fell into the Valorant rabbit hole. I have also been listening to Odd Banker - Orch Compression on loop and it’s the same music used for the Chamber trailer. It fits his character so well!

[(A/N #2)]: For the alias I used in this AU came from a concept art before Chamber was announced and he originally was supposed to be Deadeye. Also I need to clarify their age is between 16-18 (Yes, that young for an agent).

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MC/Yuu Fabron, a.k.a. Agent Deadeye, is another agent for the Valorant Protocol and is related to Chamber as they’re siblings. MC/Yuu is in their early-to-late teen years, and already they want to follow their brother’s footsteps as an agent and weapon designer.

Although the Fabron duo are great assets to the Protocol.

It was a tragedy for Agent Deadeye.

They were taken out during a mission gone wrong, but thanks to Sage, they are slowly recovering. Though there’s a problem: they’re in a comatose state.

It seems the young agent is out of commission until time would tell.

…

Now MC/Yuu Fabron, in their subconscious mind, fell somewhere and somehow got trapped into a weird world where magic actually exists.

The first time MC/Yuu came to Twisted Wonderland was when they almost shot Grim after being released from the confines of a coffin they were trapped inside.

Next, they shot at Crowley, nearly missing him by passing his ear.

Then after, both Crowley and Grim start running away from MC/Yuu.

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Chasing after the headmaster and Grim* I’m going to kill you for deceiving me! I know you Omega agents trapped me in a simulation to break me for intel!

Crowley: What are they talking about?!

Grim: How should I know?!!

When the two got to the ceremony, Crowley barely lock the doors but a card flies through the crack and incomes MC/Yuu teleporting inside the Mirror Chamber.

Everyone was surprised by the furious young agent.

Once they revealed themselves holding their Headhunter out, shit may go down.

Crowley: No no! Don’t shoot!

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Points their gun at Crowley* Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t. Ten seconds. Dix…Neuf…Huit…Sept…

Rook: Attendez un moment!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Huh? Tu parles français?

Rook: Oui. Please put your weapon down.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Why? I cannot trust anything here as it seems the enemies took me hostage and attempts to break me for sensitive information.

Rook: Enemies?

Agent!MC/Yuu: …You’re not the agents from the Omega Earth?

Rook: Omega Earth? What is this place you’re asking?

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Realization hits them hard* Oh, my god…

After the shenanigans calmed down and the ceremony continued smoothly, MC/Yuu was taken to Crowley’s office.

Inside of the room, the agent explains they’re part of a protocol with other agents like them and their goal is to prevent the Omega Earth and its doubles from stealing a material called Radianite.

Then it’s Crowley’s turn to explain they’re in Twisted Wonderland and they’re in Night Raven College, an All Boy’s school for magical academics.

Now that everything clears up, it seems Agent Deadeye has another mission: surviving back to school.

Also imagine these:

Rook and Deadeye are speaking French to each other!

Azul and Deadeye speaking Business to each other!

Vil/Cater and Deadeye speaking Good Taste/Insane Drip to each other!

[Chapter 3]

[The trio got anemones after signing contracts with the Octavinelle Dorm Leader.]

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Polishing their Headhunter*

Ace, Deuce, and Grim: MC/Yuu!!!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Merde! What happened to you three?

Deuce: We got dragged into a contract just to pass the exam.

Ace: Then these things popped out of nowhere.

Grim: Nyah! This is annoying! MC/Yuu, help us!

Agent!MC/Yuu: I refuse to help you, imbéciles. You brought this upon yourselves without knowing how business works and not studying beforehand. Even I passed without “magical knowledge.”

Grim: I sold our dorm too!

Agent!MC/Yuu: YOU WHAT?!!! How could you do such…*Groans in frustration* Keep it together, MC/Yuu. Remember what Vincent taught you. *Clears their throat* Where is this dealer who you signed contracts with?

Ace: The Octavinelle Dorm.

Deuce: We’re really sorry, MC/Yuu. We’ll pay for your Pain au chocolat as apologies.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Pour l'amour de...Fine, I’ll deal with that slimy businessman.

[Octavinelle Dorm]

[Monstro Lounge]

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Summons their card out and throws it to the room*

[It zips across the main dining hall through the crack of the double doors of the office. It was good as the Tweels didn’t notice.]

[Azul’s office]

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Teleports inside in front of Azul* Bonjour~

[(A/N): Don’t mind the gifs. I only used them to help visualize what actions MC/Yuu does.]

Azul: *Startled by their presence* Huh?!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Are you perhaps Azul Ashengrotto?

Azul: *Keeping his composure* I am. Who you may be?

Agent!MC/Yuu: Deadeye. *Taps their forearm, activating their markings to summon their sniper rifle* *Points it at Azul*

Azul: What the-?!! *Freaks out and falls back on his chair*

Agent!MC/Yuu: Say hello to Tour de Force 2.0. I need those contracts you scammed with the idiots from earlier.

Azul: *Freaking out* P-Put the gun down!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Don’t worry. I don’t waste my bullets on opportunists like you. Well, depending if you cross me.

Azul: What is it that you want?

Agent!MC/Yuu: I told you earlier: the contracts. Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about actual business.

[SPOILER: They actually got their idiot trio out of the contracts, which upsets Azul and still leads him to Overblot.]

[Pomefiore]

Vil: Your ink work and sense of fashion clash together.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Well I have good taste in everything~ Also these “tattoos” have functionalities that help me.

Vil: Is that so?

Agent!MC/Yuu: *Summons their Headhunter*

Vil: *Steps away*

Agent!MC/Yuu: Do not panic. The safety is on.

Vil: You need to be more careful pulling your weapons out.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Do not worry, my friend. I’m responsible of my possessions. Also, have you seen my Tour de Force 2.0?

[A bullet shattered a window and zips passed the two. In instinct, MC/Yuu got defensive and releases the safety off their Headhunter.]

Agent!MC/Yuu: Vil, get down now! Révèle-toi!

Rook: *Peeks through the broken window* Bonjour, Mon Trickster!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Rook? Put my sniper rifle down, now! That is not a toy you mess with! Do you know how much work I put into my beauty? Nobody touches my stuff!

[Chapter 6]

[S.T.Y.X.]

Agent!MC/Yuu: Oh, you want to play? Let’s play~ *Summons their Headhunter out and shoots at a Charon dead*

Epel: What the fuck?! You killed somebody!

Agent!MC/Yuu: It’s not my first time. Did you forget I’m an agent? Qualified to shoot?

Epel: NOT HERE!

Agent!MC/Yuu: Merde…Lets just get the boys, and I’ll face the one for kidnapping Grim.

Epel: What are ya gonna do?

Agent!MC/Yuu: Envoi de mes salutations à sa famille. *Reloads with more ammunition*

Rook: *Gasps* Mon Trickster!

I like to think that after everything Deadeye has gone through, they’re able to return to their home world.

Which is actually waking up from their comatose state.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Ow, my chest…Guys? Vincent?

You can imagine a sophisticated grown-ass man crying with relief after being notified that his little sibling woke up from recovery.

Chamber: MC/Yuu…You’re okay…

Agent!MC/Yuu: I’m alive. It’s just…I had the weirdest dream during my slumber.

As the young agent still has days to recover, they decided to return back to France for the time being.

It felt relaxing for them to stroll through the famous city of Love with many people filling the streets.

Then out of nowhere, someone bumps into them by accident.

???: Oh! I’m truly sorry for bumping into you.

Agent!MC/Yuu: No worries. Paris is a huge city-

They see a familiar face with bangs.

Agent!MC/Yuu: Rook?

✨[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]💫

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scottahemi · 1 year

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I did Huevember this year! here’s the first 10

Nanotech3.0 from my first webcomic series with laser chainsaws

a cyberpunk bounty hunter dude with a cannon arm

Holly from my current webcomic series doing that gas station security TV meme

Orche Jelly character design update,

my cyberpunk world’s MC seeing his situation for the first time

a superhero OC Roadburn, he fast. he burns!

Cyberpunk bounty hunter OC she weird.

Fiona also from my current webcomic series. such a poser

Steampunk OC design update

Random Gladiator OC woman who can grow crystals she’s a mutant or something.

#Huevember #Huevember 2022 #Chainsaws #hard light #bounty hunter #holly #Rainbow Fire #Webcomic Characters #Cyberpunk #Slime Girl #cyborg #cybernetic #OC #Original characters #OC art #digital art #digital drawings #crystal

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dweemeister · 2 years

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Babes in Arms (1939)

When did the “theater kid” stereotype become a term of dismissal? Through my secondary school days (and this goes for those in secondary education at the present time, too), the theater kid designation was always derisive, to denote classmates too obsessed with musical theater and often keeping to their own clique. Being an orch dork myself in those days, I found myself in an awkward middle ground: understanding fully a theater kid’s love of musical theater, yet a bit intimidated by their devotion to the medium.

The above is a circuitous way to ironically note that I have never been uncomfortable with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s (MGM) hey-kids-let’s-put-on-a-show musicals of the 1930s and ‘40s. Central to that subgenre of musical at MGM were Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney – both embodying, in most of their ten joint movie appearances from 1937-1948, the traits identifiable to anyone who understands how theater kids behave. Their movie musical collaborations contain no narratives of note, just sheer musical and choreographic virtuosity that holds up more than eighty years later. Babes in Arms, directed by Busby Berkeley, is the first of Berkeley’s unofficial “Backyard Musical” series starring Garland and Rooney – later followed by Strike Up the Band (1940) and Babes on Broadway (1941). Having seen only the middle film of that trilogy before, Babes in Arms is the weaker of the two I have completed. But for a roughly ninety-minute romp with puffed-up adolescent drama and a modest budget, Babes in Arms is decent value for those interested in movie musicals and the filmographies of those involved.

It is 1921 somewhere in America. Vaudeville patriarch Joe Moran (Charles Winninger) announces the birth of his only child, a son. Fatefully, his son is literally born on stage. Fast forward to the late 1930s and we find Joe’s son, Mickey (Mickey Rooney) teaming up with girlfriend Patsy Barton (Judy Garland; whose character comes from a different vaudeville family) to sell one of his songs to a music publishing company. He’s on piano; she’s the singer as they perform “Good Morning” (yes, that same song Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, and Donald O’Connor hoofed so magnificently to in 1952’s Singin’ in the Rain). The publishers unsurprisingly purchase Mickey’s song. $100 (more than $2,000 in 2022’s USD) in hand, Mickey returns home to his parents but is aghast to learn that his parents – who left the vaudeville circuit shortly after the 1927 introduction of synchronized sound in movies – are heading back on tour without him. To convince his parents to bring him along, he and Patsy piece together a plan that any spurned child might pursue: to put on a show with the other musically talented kids in the community (deeming themselves the “Babes in Arms”).

Teenage drama ensues including an unnecessary physical assault, a preventable love triangle, and an unfortunate decision to use blackface (more on this later). The cast also includes Grace Hayes as matriarch Florrie Moran, Margaret Hamilton as busybody Martha Steele, Rand Brooks as Martha’s nephew, Guy Kibbee as a judge, and June Preisser as the third side of the aforementioned love triangle with an unfortunate nickname. Betty Jaynes plays Mickey Rooney’s elder sister while Douglas McPhail plays Don Brice, one of the older kids with an underutilized baritone.

Babes in Arms is technically based on composer Richard Rodgers and lyricist Lorenz Hart’s 1937 stage musical of the same name. And though Rodgers and Hart are credited, this film adaptation resembles little of their original work, with only two songs from the stage musical retained for this movie. “The Lady Is a Tramp” appears only in the score, while the title song and “Where or When”. “Babes in Arms” appears as Mickey Rooney rounds up the neighborhood teenagers to march militarily down the roads – crates and (gulp) torches in hand. With even brief quotations of “Ride of the Valkyries” from Wagner’s Die Walküre in the song (2:53 in provided video), these kids, however well-dressed, might be taking on their newest task too exuberantly. “Where or When”, a ballad that few ever seem to mention, is sung beautifully by Douglas McPhail and Betty Jaynes; the inclusion of the little children on their one-quarter or half-sized string instruments is a charming touch. Garland briefly sings “Where or When” too, and one just wishes she could carry the song to its conclusion.

Among the MGM musical entries, most will recognize “Good Morning” (music by Nacio Herb Brown, lyrics by Arthur Freed) during Rooney and Garland’s attempt to sell the former’s song to the publishing agency. This original rendition of “Good Morning” does not have the choreographic mastery as seen in Singin’ in the Rain, but it certainly establishes that easygoing dynamic audiences would see often between Garland and Rooney.

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By the time the film hits the stage show that concludes Babes in Arms, Mickey, Judy, and company will have sung quite the gamut of musical numbers. Separating themselves from most of the soundtrack are “Daddy Was a Minstrel Man” and “God’s Country”. The former (music and lyrics by Roger Edens) opens the stage show and is the first part of a sequence where both Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney don blackface. Blackface, which originated from American minstrel shows in the early nineteenth century, is a theatrical device in which a typically non-black person wears makeup to portray a happy-go-lucky caricature of a black person. This offensive practice predates cinema and serves no useful performative or cinematic purpose – a non-black performer can pay homage to black culture without perpetuating stereotypes, such as applying blackface. Unfortunately, both Garland and Rooney would be in blackface again in the last film of the Backyard Musical trilogy, Babes on Broadway. For some, “Daddy Was a Minstrel Man” and the following song, “I’m Just Wild About Harry” (a 1921 number with music by Eubie Blake and lyrics by Noble Sissle), will be distracting, to say the least. Together, they smash the picture of teenage innocence that (mostly) courses through Babes in Arms.

“God’s Country” is unabashed American flag-waving that proclaims the U.S. as a divinely dynamic nation. Briefly quoting the melody from “Yankee Doodle”, the song – considering that the United States was, at this time, a mostly insular nation that would rather not be involved with the mounting tensions in Europe and Asia – offers some curious lyrics, such as celebrating American freedom with this:

A hundred million rooters can’t be wrong, So give a hand, give a hand, Give a cheer for your land, Where smiles are broader, freedom greater. Every man is his own dictator.

Even more surprising lyrics appear shortly after that lightly rib the soon-to-be Axis nations:

We’ve got no Duce; We’ve got no Führer. But we’ve got Garbo and Norma Shearer.

Got no goose step; But we’ve got a Suzie Q step Here in God’s country!

For a movie made before and released after Nazi Germany’s invasion of Poland, this is as strong a criticism as one might expect from a major Hollywood movie at this juncture. Through most of the 1930s, every major Hollywood studio except Warner Bros. heeded the demands and threats of Los Angeles-based Nazi Germany diplomat Georg Gyssling, who suggested edits on certain screenplays to root out any critique of Germany and Nazism. This cinematic appeasement was sweeping, but it appears that Gyssling and his associates missed a small detail in Babes in Arms.

Other than the wall-to-wall soundtrack, the main attraction for Babes in Arms are its two co-stars. Still teenagers, Rooney and Garland were given an adult’s workload. Including both feature films and shorts, Babes in Arms was Mickey Rooney’s ninety-sixth of ninety-eight films of the 1930s. Somehow, Rooney, already one of MGM’s brightest lights thanks to the Andy Hardy series (1937-1958), is abundantly manic and tireless here in his first movie musical. Even in comparison to the exhaustingly hyperactive of mainstream American filmmaking, Rooney’s enthusiasm almost leaps off the screen. For her part, Judy Garland was not a household name yet when she trotted in front of the camera to film Babes in Arms. Her performance is not quite assured here, and any hint of believable romance between her and Mickey Rooney is spotty more often than not in part due to a sloppy screenplay. By the time of the film’s release, The Wizard of Oz (1939) had already been out in theaters for more than a month. History correctly regards The Wizard of Oz as an essential film, but Babes in Arms grossed more at the box office in 1939. Babes in Arms cemented a career 1939 for Judy Garland, which, just before the film’s premiere, also saw her lay her hands and feet in the cement at Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

Director Busby Berkeley (choreographer on 1933’s 42nd Street and Gold Diggers of 1933) made a name for outlandish mass choreography, but his choreographic style fell out of fashion by the end of the 1930s. Babes in Arms is pedestrian work from the master visualist, but it also marks the beginning of lyricist Arthur Freed’s (1943’s Cabin in the Sky, 1951’s An American in Paris) career as an MGM producer. Within the MGM hierarchy, the “Freed unit” was an assemblage, under Freed’s leadership, of actors (many of whom were principally stage actors before signing up with MGM), composers and lyricists, writers, and directors with the express purpose of crafting movie musicals with little executive interference. Babes in Arms does not yet quite contain that artistic freedom of an Arthur Freed musical, but many of the personnel in front of and behind the camera would become key contributors to the Freed unit.

As manufactured and predictable as much of Babes in Arms’ drama might be, I find it still quite watchable. Several statements from Mickey Rooney decades after completing this film perhaps explain why. In any case that the Backyard Musical trilogy comes up in a Mickey Rooney interview, Rooney usually noted how semiautobiographical these films were for himself and Garland. Both came from vaudevillian families; public performance as natural to them as breathing. Garland and Rooney spent much of their lives on a stage – theater kids, if you will – and derived profound happiness from performance. Even when surrounded by disagreeable, perhaps abusive, persons while making these movies (there are indications that Berkeley was difficult towards Garland, who was already enduring MGM head Louis B. Mayer’s cruel barbs regarding her physical appearance), that desire to embolden and transport others remains.

Babes in Arms might not be to the liking of those who still disdain theater kids, nor any of the Backyard Musicals. For others like yours truly, who appreciate the musicality and energy on display but never quite belonged to either extreme, Babes in Arms is lighthearted entertainment, flawed in execution, honestly acted.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Babes in Arms #Busby Berkeley #Mickey Rooney #Judy Garland #Charles Winninger #Guy Kibbee #June Preisser #Margaret Hamilton #Jack McGowan #Betty Jaynes #Douglas McPhail #Kay Van Riper #Richard Rodgers #Lorenz Hart #Arthur Freed #Nacio Herb Brown #Roger Edens #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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ranminfan · 2 years

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Scrapped wips i made when I was still coming up with Orgill.

Although i like the one where he was studying, i think the idea was he's a slow learner.

#wips that'll never be finished #Orgill #orgill the orc #original charcter #my art #orgill's ma #scraps #orc #orch character design

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daniartistuff · 5 years

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orch

https://www.artstation.com/daniartist

#orch #character art #creature design

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bioshock4k · 3 years

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i love my orch teacher so much shes fucking insane

#one time she got her hair cut and she looked like edna mode #i think thats her name? the fashion designer in the incredibles. anyway #in 7th grade orch was first hour so she had to deal with ~7 12year olds deciding that they were gonna dress like her at 8am #someone at one point made comics of the cello queen [long story. basically we made a badass fictional character out of her-#- that has rosin bombs and bow swords and rock stop ninja stars . its great]#she dressed as the cello queen for halloween once #for one of our concerts that was near halloween she dressed as an orca [bc orca. orhestra. you get it]#at one point she had a boyfriend who we all called thor bc she wouldnt tell us his name #theres a room in the middle school orch room that we call the clawfice bc its a closet but she uses it as an office #there was a mouse in there once we called him stuart #currently we are trying to get her to let us play lady gaga for one of our concerts #i believe weve come to 'you can do it but only if you manage to get lady gaga to come sing while we play'#she also like fucking never misses school??????? like i can count on one hand the amount of times shes missed school in 6 years

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lacave · 4 years

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Lucien Rocault: Winemaker

The winery of Lucien Rocault sits within the hillside village of Orches in Saint Romain, where the Rocault family have been farming grapes as far back at 1280. Lucien Rocault is an 18th generation steward of his family’s property. Since 2009, husband and wife Lucien and Fanny started their journey into winemaking and manufacturing the parcels that Lucien’s family had tended for centuries.

Through Lucien’s courage and craftsmanship, the winery is now in it’s 11th year of winemaking transitioning from exclusively selling fruit as a “cooperator”, to a fully established winemaking house. Lucien’s father and grandfather are still involved every day, in tending and maintaining the vineyard by hand.

From establishing the label to generating ideas for future growth, Lucien and wife Fanny have worked in partnership. “My wife Fanny pushed me a with a little saying” Lucien recalls. “If we’re going to start to create our own wine, it might as well be organic”. They practiced organic viticulture from Day 1 and achieved the organic certification in 2012.

Between 2009 and 2014 the winery patiently acquired more acreage, slowly taking ownership of vineyards in Côtes de Beaune and St Romain. The natural decision to diversify the premium portfolio meant Lucien would purchase grapes from his parents in Saint Aubin 1er Cru ‘En Remilly’, Beaune, Pommard and Pommard 1er Cru ‘Les Charmots’.

“In Burgundy we are lucky to have terroirs and french wines that naturally reveal these unique properties. We are just here to magnify and take the best out of each terroir. Particularly considering that, our approach to winemaking is so hands off. We play a supportive role and let nature do everything. Our responsibility to the wine is to make the right choices when considering the duration of barrel aging and methods of winemaking.”

Age-old winemaking methods take center stage at the family’s winery in St Romain. The grapes are harvested entirely by hand and are processed partly destemmed and partly whole bunch. Juice and skin are cold soaked for 20 days with regular pumping over or “pigeage” to allow long and gradual color and flavor development that is well-integrated.

For the winery’s signature Hautes Côtes, the team make use of temperature regulated concrete fermentation vats for long skin contact before “jus de goutte” or separating of the juice via free run. Manual punch downs extract further phenolics for peak tannin structure.

“We’ve proudly never used commercial yeasts and we strive to ensure we are protecting the wild vineyard yeasts to allow true expression of terroir and our family’s vineyards. In the winery we are vigilant and hygienic but also ensure that we are not too sterile to allow natural expression and complexity in the wine”, Lucien attests.

Due to the family history of being solely farmers rather than winemakers, Lucien was the first among his ancestors to explore the world of oak barrel aging. Not being tied to tradition in this aspect has allowed Lucien to experiment with different cooperages (barrel makers), regions of origin across France, toast level as well as barrel size.

The use of larger format (500 liter) puncheons rather than Burgundian style barriques, imparts less artificial flavor allowing the wine to express it’s natural bright and jovial fruit character.

“My goal, especially on the Hautes Côtes, is to drink and enjoy the first bottle, and then open the second almost without realizing. It’s really the fond, fresh, fruity side of wine that we are looking for so we can have fun right away. The wines are designed to create memories over good food, great company and conversation” says Lucien.

#French Red Wine #French Rose Wine #French Wine Shop #Sparking Wine #French White Wine

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 7 years

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My Wife - Legolas Greenleaf

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x Reader

Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn, Gimli

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 706

Author: Hannah

A knock on the door caused you and your husband to wake up.

You turned over in your husband's arms and he smiled at you "Today is the day Hiril vuin" (my lady) he stated, his voice laced with sleep.

Smiling at him, you nodded in agreement, "That it is Hîr vuin" (my lord) you cuddled up to him as you spoke, "Come in" you announced but loud enough so that whoever knocked could hear.

A maid peeked around the door "Your graces. The fellowship is here. They wish to leave whenever you're ready" she explained to you.

Your husband nodded in acknowledgement "Thank you. Please tell them we will be ready soon" he told her and smiled at the maid before she left.

Both you and your husband got ready; your clothing being quite similar to what he wore.

Once you were changed, your husband handed you your quiver full of specially designed arrows and your bow.

You took it from him and smiled "Thanks" you put your quiver on your back after having spoken to him.

"Are you sure about this Hiril vuin?" (my lady) he questioned, looking into your eyes and concern was present in his voice.

You nodded with a smile on your face to reassure him "I am. My skills match yours Darling, there is no contest" you told him.

He chuckled at your words "That is not what I meant. I do not want you to hurt yourself" he sounded worried as he talked, he did not want to put you in harm’s way.

You shook your head before you pressed your lips to his softly "How will that happen when I have you to protect me?" you quizzed after you pulled away.

He sighed, but he took your hand and you both walked out to the courtyard to greet the fellowship.

"Ah, Legolas, Y/N" the man you knew as Aragorn greeted you and your husband – you knew Aragorn well due to him being present at your wedding.

Legolas smiled at his friend "Hello Aragorn" he greeted him, squeezing your hand in reassurance, "I would like to introduce my wife, Y/N" Legolas introduced you to the fellowship and you smiled at them all.

"Oh great. Another elf" the dwarf chimed in, sounding displeased at your presence.

You glared at him, "What is wrong with elves?" you questioned out of confusion.

The dwarf rolled his eyes "They think they're all high and mighty. Especially clever and talented" he explained himself, but Legolas chuckled in response, "What are ya chuckling at lad?" the dwarf queried sounding slightly annoyed at Legolas’ laughter.

"I do not advise that you annoy my wife so early on Gimli. The result will not be in your favour" Legolas explained, letting go of your hand and placed his arm around your shoulder.

Gimli looked towards you and then looked back at Legolas "Oh Laddie, she can't'a do a thing to me" he protested with a smirk on his face.

You crossed your arms "Ego, *mibo orch" (Go, kiss an orc) you countered to him, causing both Legolas and Aragorn to burst out laughing.

"What was that Lass?" Gimli sounded confused as he spoke to you, obviously not understanding your mother tongue.

You looked to Legolas, "Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog" (I can say what I wish, and you won't understand me) you explained to which Legolas sweetly kissed your cheek – Gimli still seemed confused, so you turned to face him, "All I am going to say is that, you do not insult me or my kin. As long as that is clear then we will get along just fine" you stated with a smile on your face.0

Aragorn ruffled Gimli's hair "That is called, getting schooled by a girl" he joked as he continued to laugh.

Gimli glared at him "She did it in another language. That was unfair" Gimli defended before he pointed at you.

You shrugged, "I did it in my language. It is not my fault that you do not understand it" you smiled sweetly as you spoke.

Legolas nodded in agreement "I did tell you Gimli" he stated, pulling you closer to him, "My wife and I are very much alike"

#Hannah #Legolas Greenleaf #Legolas Greenleaf One Shot #Legolas Greenleaf Imagine #Legolas #Legolas One Shot #Legolas Imagine #Lord of the Rings #Lord of the Rings One Shot #Lord of the Rings Imagine #LOTR #LOTR One Shot #LOTR Imagine #Aragorn #Gimli #My Wife

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kingofthewilderwest · 7 years

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Hi! I've read many of your posts and they're awesome! Think of this one! If the Dragon Riders were in a Modern AU what would be their hobbies? What kind of animals will their dragons be?

Thank you so much!

There have been lots of different interesting modern AUs whereby the dragons have become cats, dogs, or even horses. There’s some good appeal to each idea. Personally, I wouldn’t mind making the dragons based upon the creatures they were designed from; so, Toothless would be a cat, Stormfly a bird, Meatlug a dog, and... I guess Barf and Belch would be a snake and Hookfang a lizard or something.

Now for hobbies...

Hiccup

Hiccup is the inventive powerhouse of Berk. In a modern AU, Hiccup would likely be just as revolutionary - and the area where our greatest technological development is currently... is computers. I can easily imagine Hiccup as someone who constantly fiddles around with both computer hardware and software. He’s built his own machines. He knows how to program in multiple languages. I like to imagine modern!Hiccup as a techie who spends a lot of his hobby free time playing around with computers.

If we want, we could also suggest that Hiccup has other hobbies in other areas of invention and creating. Maybe Hiccup is decent at fixing cars, too, or at the very least knows the basics. Maybe he’s taken a woodworking class in high school. His high school physics projects were possibly a little over the top. If Hiccup enters any club at his high school, it’s the robotics club.

Another significant area of hobbies for Hiccup is going to be the arts. Hiccup is canonically a talented artist in the DreamWorks franchise. There’s no reason why Hiccup wouldn’t enjoy sketching and drawing in the modern world, too. His preferred art style is probably realism, with an emphasis of making the image more photorealistic as versus developing a recognizable artistic style. He’s probably drawn a lot on paper, but given as he loves the latest technology, does a bit with digital art, too.

I don’t think Hiccup would have gotten into sports. Stoick might have tried to put his kid into a few sports when he was younger, and maybe Hiccup tried some other sports on his own volition in the desperate attempt to appear “cool.” No success. Hiccup would not be an athlete growing up. The one potential area of exception is equestrian sports. Even if I do like Toothless as a cat best, there’s still something fun to be said about Hiccup having an ability to ride an animal extremely well in a modern AU. Hiccup could be quite talented riding horses, capable of competing in every event from jumping to dressage.

Astrid

Astrid, unlike Hiccup, is an accomplished athlete. She tried soccer/football at a young age and was pretty good at it. She stuck with it for a number of years until she switched to rugby. On top of that, Astrid has trained as a gymnast since she was very young, and also tried her hand at several martial arts. Even for sports she has not officially competed in, she still manages to perform impressively. She steals the day for informal volley ball matches she has with friends, and everyone wants her on their team for ultimate frisbee. Heck, she’s probably wrestled some of her friends to the ground on random occasions, too.

Astrid spends so much time on her academics and competitive sports that she doesn’t have too many hobbies outside of these. She’s never had the time and attention to develop her cooking skills, though on the rare occasion she tries to make eggnog, everyone in the family runs frantically away.

Snotlout

Snotlout in the DreamWorks franchise seems to be accomplished with the needle. Maybe this translates to a modern world, too; Snotlout actually knows how to cross-stitch and work a sewing machine and knit scarves (which he always claims are made by his aunt, not him).

Snotlout also mentions working out in the first HTTYD movie. I bet Snotlout loves going to the gym to lift weights and tone his hot body several times a week. He’s probably not that talented at actual team sports (despite trying to sign up and show off on a few of the most popular sports), but he can make up for his embarrassing year of football by lifting impressively at the gym. Well, he thinks it’s impressive, anyway. And it’s not bad. Though... Astrid can outlift him.

Fishlegs

DreamWorks’ biggest nerd will be a nerd in the modern world, too. To be honest, Fishlegs’ hobbies are really easy for me to imagine!

Fishlegs plays Magic: The Gathering and has even been to a few local tournaments. He knows all the ins-and-outs of the game, the most expensive cards, the best tactics, you name it. You get him started talking about MTG... and he won’t shut up for another few hours. He’s also a huge video game lover and can be seen on the PC or console several hours a day. Especially, he’s obsessed with League of Legends.

Fishlegs enjoys watching nerd culture movies and knows a decent amount of comic book material. He’ll watch superhero movies and get into debates about which hero would beat who in what sort of competition. You’ll find him at the occasional local comic or sci-fi convention. Star Wars, Star Trek, Firefly, Teen Titans... he’s enjoyed them all.

In high school, Fishlegs enjoyed a few academic competitions, especially in the sciences. I am sure he’s participated in both Science Bowl and Science Olympiad. He’s probably gotten a few medals from Science Olympiad at both the regionals and state level... maybe even making it to the national competition.

It’s also fairly easy for me to see Fishlegs as a band geek and/or orch dork.

Tuffnut

Tuffnut also seems to know a bit about needlework given comments in RTTE. He also seems to like interior decorating and other such things. Perhaps in the modern world Tuffnut has a good eye for fabric and tailorsmanship, too. I’m going to suggest this not so much because it’s in his character but because it’s amusing to consider: but Tuffnut making cosplay. That could be entertaining. Or maybe it’s just unusually elaborate Halloween costumes? It’s a holiday he and Ruffnut get a little too engrossed in.

I don’t imagine Tuffnut being involved in too many activities, especially not formal clubs or extracurriculars. However, there’s one exception: theatre. Tuffnut adores theatre, and I’m sure he’s auditioned for a few roles at his local high school. Even when it’s just English class and the teacher assigns the students into groups to act out a Shakespeare scene, Tuffnut gets... overdramatic and involved.

It’s not exactly a “hobby” but I’m sure that Ruffnut and Tuffnut spent many hours together enacting pranks at school.

If Tuffnut got involved in a sport, it’d be figure skating. He’d go for the figure skating; Ruffnut would go for the hockey.

Ruffnut

Like Astrid, I could also imagine Ruffnut as a rugby player. Ruffnut is fierce, downright fierce, at the sport. There’s no fear. There are times that Ruffnut gets irritated and jealous that her teammate Astrid receives a lot of the credit - Astrid is a bit more popular than Ruffnut - but Ruff’s coach is fully aware of how bold and dedicated a player the Thorston twin is.

When Ruffnut enters college, she finds herself participating in some extreme experiences. She’s gone bungee jumping and skydiving multiple times and has greatly enjoyed both experiences.

#long post #httyd #How to Train Your Dragon #rtte #Race to the Edge #Ruffnut and Tuffnut #Ruffnut #Tuffnut #Hiccup #Astrid #Snotlout #Fishlegs #analysis #my analysis #ask #ask me #awesome anonymous friend #anonymous

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kylorengarbagedump · 7 years

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 1 (NSFW)

Read it on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You are a new Handmaid, your first assignment is at the home of Commander Kylo Ren. His Wife hates you. And you wished he did, too. It'd make it much easier to ignore the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, when she isn't there. But the hardest thing to ignore is the way he touches you.

Words: 2100

Warnings: Handmaid AU, Dubious consent, violent Christian themes

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: If you're confused, this is a Handmaid's Tale AU, because I love that novel so much. Feel free to read a synopsis online if you've never read the book (though I highly recommend reading it!)

This AU was created on my blog, kylorengarbagedump.tumblr.com. It was conceived with the help of user @checktheholonet, who I credit for both the themes in this piece, AND, most importantly, the title. Thank you SO MUCH, you are incredible and your writing is gorgeous. Anyway, welcome to my new fic. Love y'all so much!

“You’re beautiful…”

Hands. Firm. Strong. Pulling at your hips, your thighs, your breasts, bruising you, soothing you. A mouth. Wet. Desperate. A frenzy of kisses down your neck, your clavicle, to your sternum, above the terrified thumping of your heart. Your blood is red, his lips are red, the sheets are red, the air is red. You inhale a plea and exhale a prayer. There are two figures, but only one writhes and whines and gasps, only one works like an instrument tuned to the key of your body. Sweat. Flesh. Breath. You want to remember this. You need to remember--to remember--

“Tell me what you want…”

Sweat stained your nape, your red-gloved hands wringing together as you waited. The dream was far from an anomaly--but it was equally as far from being wanted. The last thing you needed on the day you were to meet your first Commander was a set of wet panties. There would be no Ceremony, tonight (thankfully), but you were nervous that there’d be an inspection, instead, or something. Maybe one of the Marthas would examine you, check you like a race horse--healthy hocks, clear eyes, shiny hair, clean mouth… and cleaner morals.

The door swung open--and your lips pinched together. Rather than the lifeless green dress of a Martha, you were greeted with the swishing jewel-blue skirt of a Wife. His Wife. You swallowed, sweat seeping into the white base of your wimple. This was not what you were told would happen.

“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come in?” Her voice was gravelly. Demanding.

You nodded, stepping over the stone threshold onto the polished wood of the foyer. His Wife said nothing, turning sharp on her heel and marching down a hall. The sound of shoes on ceramic ricocheted through the empty air, an alarm. You tilted your head to the sides, eyes darting to the walls to discern your new surroundings. The decorations were modest, wide windows streaming light onto white painted walls lined with the occasional artistic tribute to the Old Testament. Your Commander’s Wife swept around a corner, and as you glanced up, you caught her peek over her shoulder, ensuring your obedience.

Before you turned, you heard another voice in the corridor, breathy and soft. “Oh! I’m on my way, ma’am, don’t--” Your presence halted her, and you blushed. A Martha. “You--you got her, Ms. Johana?”

“Yes,” replied his Wife. Johana. “And why shouldn’t I? He’s my husband.”

You stood at the corner of the room, an elephant in a red dress. The Martha, with little else to say, stepped aside, and you resumed your pursuit of Johana, who charged through the dining hall and around another corner, stopping bluntly at the mouth of a staircase. She whipped her head around, scrutinizing you, her nose wrinkling.

“Not talkative,” she said. “I like you better than the last one already.” When you didn’t respond, she sniffed, gathered her skirts, and tromped up the steps.

Planes of shadow concealed the staircase, growing somehow darker the higher you ascended, the only evidence of freedom a few thin rays of light, casting across the empty hall and illuminating the floating flecks of dust in the air. The wood at your feet was dark, struck through with lines of age and wear. As you reached the top, the hall stretched out as a tunnel in front of you, rooms branching off on both sides. You shifted, and the floor creaked, squeaking under you like you’d woken it from sleep.

Johana turned, nodding toward the end of the hall. “You stay there. During hours when the Commander is home, you are not to leave that room unless asked. Is that understood?”

You nodded.

“No,” she said. “Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” you replied. You were surprised at how small your voice sounded under the arch of the ceiling.

“Good.” Her shoulders fell in a slow breath. “You were informed the Ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you replied. “N-no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you have.” Straightening her back again, she glided past you. “Get to your room. He will be home shortly.” You nodded, listening to her steps fade as you bustled beyond the door she’d identified as yours.

The room was spartan in design--you’d been afforded a tiny, circular window, a clinically sparse twin bed, and a single dresser, barely large enough to house your dress. Chewing on your lip, you sat at the edge of the mattress, peering out of the window, gazing over the yard of your new home. Like the house itself, the land was massive, sprawling out like a manicured meadow, replete with razor rectangular hedges and rows of colorful annual gardens. In the center of these, there was a fountained pond, shimmering in the afternoon heat. A worn, iron bench rested to the side of the pond--you wondered what it would be like to sit there, let the warmth bathe your skin, let your toes soak in the cool water.

You shivered, staring at your cloaked hands, the piles of fabric obscuring your feet. They seemed foreign to you, like the limbs of another woman had been stuck to your body. They couldn’t be yours, these extensions of compliance--not when you could still remember what it’d been like to look a man in the eyes, when you could still remember how it felt to raise your voice, let your cheeks rage hot. It couldn’t have been you, growing small at the corner of the frame, a hunching red smock, shoulders sagged with the weight of your new reality. It couldn’t have been, you thought--but you felt your own pulse pound at your throat, felt the band of perspiration around your own brow. Swallowing, you clutched the neck of your wimple and collapsed back onto the bed, your heart sinking through the floor.

You weren’t sure how long you stared into the ceiling--just that it had been long enough to spike your eyes with tears, until, bidden by either exhaustion or by boredom or maybe both, you drifted off into sleep.

“That’s it…”

He knows, somehow. Somehow, he knows the precise pressure with which to brush your clit, he knows the exact moment to release you--that point when your breath hitches, catching on the inevitability of orgasm. He leaves you there, for only a moment, smothers you, his mouth on your lips, your breasts, your sex. You want him, you think, you need him--your body is being drawn and quartered by hunger, stretching further for desire than you think is physically possible. It’s inside of you, a thrashing black-red tangle of need, scratch marks behind your skin, the frenzied attempt to claw free, to break out, to devour you both.

“Good girl,” he says, “cum for me…”

You split open, the treacherous mass within you spinning out like loose thread from a spool, winding over your hips, your thighs, your knees, your shoulders, your fingers, sealing you tight around the white bliss that’s shredding through your nerves. It’s good, so incredibly, perfectly good, you groan, you whine, you shake, gasping…

“Good evening.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you sucked in a breath, scrambling to your feet and bowing your head. You didn’t need to be told even once--you’d known it was him, and you’d known what was expected. Pleasure crept through the edges of your body as you surveyed the floor--shadows of your dream. You could tell from the dampness of your skin and your hardened nipples that you’d came in your sleep. Shame could have swallowed you whole. If simple daydreams were embarrassing, how on earth should you classify wet dreams?

“Ah. Um. Good evening, Commander.” It was evening, right? Yes, the sun was setting. God, you hoped he couldn’t tell. Could he tell? He couldn’t tell, right?

“I see you’ve already met my Wife.” His voice was deep, soft, like the floor of a midnight forest. It made you want to see his face. “I imagined you’d want to become acquainted with me before tomorrow.”

This was unusual, to your knowledge. Speaking with--or acknowledging the humanity of a Handmaid in any way was not typical. You remembered how his Wife had ordered you to stay in your room if he was home--and wondered, now, if there was reasoning behind it.

“Nice to meet you.” That sounded stupid. Nice to meet you? Were you a new classmate? “Um. Goodnight, then.”

“Mm. Not so fast.” He stepped once, crossing the threshold into your room. Your chest iced over. “Look at me.”

Your eyes leapt from side to side. You wanted to. You just weren’t sure if you should.

“Look at me.”

Holding your breath, you did--and nearly forgot to breathe again. You should have felt disgust, revulsion at the man who, given his rank, you knew to be responsible for your current predicament. But instead of that--or hatred, or even fear--the very first emotion you felt was a hot streak of lust. Horrified at yourself, you stuffed it down, but were unable to shake the notion that he was… not-ugly. High cheekbones and plush lips and hazel eyes, capped with thick, shoulder-length waves of dark hair, his black, bespoke suit accentuating his towering height and broad shoulders. He was--almost beautiful. And yet, you knew.

It was strange, coming face-to-face for one of the men who had orchestrated your role. Given all of the re-education, you imagined you should have been reverent, like staring into the face of a demigod, or a local monarch. But all that would cycle through your brain was confusion. On one hand, you felt the distant desire to punch him in the gut. On the other, you wanted nothing more than for him to praise you.

He stepped forward again, and you averted your gaze, trembling as the shine of his Oxfords crossed into your sight. Something brushed your chin, and you flinched, face reddening as you realized it was his fingers. He was turning you. Examining you. Now, this, you knew, was unorthodox.

“Prettier than the last one,” he murmured, as if he were appraising a slab of meat. Though, you supposed--to him, you were. “Do you know my name?”

Nausea flooded you. “Yes, sir.”

“Tell me.”

How could you not know it? His named informed your own. You were Ofkylo. And he was--

“Kylo Ren.”

“Good,” he said, and patted your cheek. “Good girl.”

The words revived the dissolving memory of your dream, and you shuddered against your will, thighs clenching underneath your skirts. The heat inside of you radiated from your skin like flames--you were certain he felt it, that, at the very least, he knew you were impure. You wanted to shove yourself through the porthole window like a crimson cork and pop out into the pond, become steam as you hit the cold water, dissipate into the air.

“You’re turning red.” He pinched your chin. “Why?”

Don’t look at him. “Nervous to be meeting you.” At least you were being somewhat honest. “You’re, um, my first Commander.”

“Am I?” He turned your face toward his. You still refused to meet his eyes. “With any hope, tomorrow night will make me your last.”

A chill shot up your spine. He could have meant one of two things--neither of them was particularly appealing. You hoped for one more than the other. “Y-yes, sir.”

“I hope it will be pleasant,” he said, “though, likely nothing like your dream.”

Your lungs stopped. For a moment, your heart did too. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your dream.” His thumb traced the curve of your lower lip, and you stifled a whimper. “You might think I’m callous, but I remember what pleasure looks like. And you…” His nail pressed into the flesh. “... were enjoying yourself.”

By some miracle of nature, your knees did not buckle--and you were thankful for this, for the position you would have landed in would have been even more compromising than your current one. Your heart was throbbing in your chest, beating down to your fingertips. No words would leave, because none would form in your brain to begin with. Breath leaked from your nose, and you felt it skim his hand.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir! Ms. Johana requests you!” The voice sliced between you like a cleaver. It was another Martha, from down the steps.

“In a moment,” he called back, still fixated on you.

“She says immediately, sir!”

The smallest, slightest sigh blew through his nostrils. “Fine,” he said, and then lowered his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, little bird.” He dropped you, and you could breathe again, every joint in your body shaking as he retreated into the hall. “And begood.”

The door closed behind him, and you crumbled onto your knees.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #handmaid AU #fanfiction problems #little bird

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dweemeister · 3 years

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Soul (2020)

2020 dashed the best-laid plans, disrupted dreams, and brought disease. For almost one full year now, COVID-19 has upended society the world over, and taken the lives of almost two million as of the publication of this review. The pandemic, as contemporary readers may notice, has taken its toll on the film industry too. If you are reading this in the distant future, Soul is the first film that I have written in which its release date was delayed and its distribution altered because of the pandemic (from June 19 to Christmas). Pete Docter’s first directorial effort since becoming the chief creative officer of Pixar is part of a phenomenon which may or may not last past the pandemic. Soul, like a few other high-profile releases in 2020 and early 2021, debuted simultaneously in reduced-capacity theaters and streaming, via Disney+. The film itself is middling Pixar. But given the studio’s high quality – albeit sullied over the last decade with underwhelming sequels and glaring missteps from some non-sequels – it is still something worth celebrating.

Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx) works part-time as a middle school music teacher in New York City, but quietly harbors dreams of pursuing his dream of becoming a jazz pianist. Taking an opportunity to audition for professional jazz saxophonist Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett), Joe receives an offer to play with Dorothea’s band. Ecstatic, speaking giddily on his cell phone on the musical adventure that awaits that evening, Joe has forgotten to look wherever the hell he is walking. As a result, he falls down a manhole, Looney Tunes-style. He awakens as a fluorescent blue-green blob, his soul on a stairway to heaven. No, not yet, Joe says. He runs backwards, but ends up in the “Great Before” – a place where unborn souls are endowed the traits (in the form of a badge) that will direct, but not predestine, the course of their lives. In a case of mistaken identity, the Great Before’s leaders assign Joe to 22 (Tina Fey) as her counselor. 22 has been stuck in the Great Before for eons, fostering a cynical view of human existence that has confounded her previous counselors (“You can’t crush a soul here. That’s what life on Earth is for.”). If you are asking whether or not Joe will be the one that shows 22 life’s beauty, you clearly have never seen a Pixar movie before.

The English-language film’s voice cast also includes Graham Norton as a sign twirler extraordinaire, Rachel House, Alice Braga, Richard Ayoade, Donnell Rawlings, Questlove, and Daveed Diggs. Veteran actress Phylicia Rashad plays Joe’s mother (who disapproves of his dreams of playing jazz professionally). This is the first Pixar movie without a character voiced by John Ratzenberger.

22 and Joe will prematurely escape to Earth, but the plot is unnecessarily complicated by a body swap and a tired trope of modern animated features: a non-white character accidentally spending more than half the film in the body of an animal. The Emperor’s New Groove (2000) and The Princess and the Frog (2009) are among the highest-profile examples of the trope. Like Cuzco and Tiana in those past films, Joe is not white – and, automatically, is someone the likes of whom has very little history of starring in a mainstream American animated feature. To see him lose his bodily agency for almost the entirety of the film is frustrating. The screenwriting team (Docter, Mike Jones, and Kemp Powers) declines to explore Joe’s racial identity, instead favoring the hero’s journey (Pixar has never deviated from this template, but that has not prevented them from making great films) and the predictable pratfalls often present in Pixar’s movies. Soul’s body-swapping comedy not only brushes away any such exploration of racial identity, but relegates the film’s jazz (an African-American creation) as ornamentation, overcomplicates the narrative structure, and interferes with its messaging. None of these issues existed in Coco (2017) – an unabashedly Mexican glimpse into the culture surrounding Día de Los Muertos and Mexican regional folk music all while retaining its primary themes.

Soul shares the introspective spirit of Docter’s previous film, Inside Out (2015). The lack of external adversity in both films allow us to better understand the passions of the main character. Joe’s conflict stirs from within – his dreams and expectations against practicality and unexpected realities. More prevalent than in Inside Out, Soul’s moments without dialogue poignantly depict those contradictions and unmitigated thrills. In Joe’s case, his near-total dedication to jazz is celebrated – never excessively mocked by 22 or any other character. But his passion, the film says (and as revealed through 22’s temporary occupation of his body), cannot alone quench the fullest expression of his humanity. The film is at its best in two types of contradictory moments. The first type occurs while Joe is playing his piano; the other appears when the film stops for several seconds to admire a minor detail, overlooked by everyone passing by except 22, along New York’s streets. In the latter, the film is allowed to take a breath, allowing just the ambient noise to play in the sound mix – the rustling foliage in the wind, the light traffic of one-way streets, the whoosh of passing subway cars. It is the closest Pixar has ever come to refuting Alfred Hitchcock’s flawed, oft-quoted statement that the movies are, “like life with the dull bits cut out.” For it is in some of life’s mundanities that 22 sees life as worth living. It is life’s mundanities that lie at the heart of Soul’s most powerful moments.

With the assistance of a legion of cultural consultants, Soul is, in spurts, a casual, intentionally unremarkable foray into New York’s black community and a faithful depiction of jazz performance. Animation history has long caricatured black roles in various ways, so the Pixar animators took pains to faithfully render hairstyles and varying skin tones to highlight the diversity of appearance in African-American communities. Many reviews of Soul will justly extol the background art, but plaudits must also go to the character design of the numerous African-American supporting figures across the entire film. It endows the film with an authentic vitality that I cannot envision happening in a film released by a studio concentrating on CGI animated features. A short scene to a barbershop underlines this laudable attention.

As a pianist and violinist, one of my personal pet peeves while watching movies is when an actor is fake-playing an instrument – it can be comically, pathetically obvious. I am certainly not the only one, as I’m sure some orch dorks, band geeks, and other instrumentalists might attest. Animated movies are not spared our eyes and ears. Soul, however, represents a glorious break from expectation. In a film already boasting photorealistic backgrounds and uncanny lighting effects, Joe’s piano playing is some of the most “realistic” I have seen in an animated film. His posture and muscular movement made me forget, momentarily, I was watching an animated movie. Perfectly rendered, too, are his fingering patterns (for the sake of consistent character design, Joe has elongated fingers). This musical accuracy extends to all other musicians in the film, too. It is glorious to behold as a musician. Soul could easily have cracked jokes at the expense of Joe’s passion. That the film affirms his love for jazz, all while tempering his desires (through 22, his mother, and other factors), is a high-wire balancing act that triumphs.

Soul’s score is split in two: Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross of Nine Inch Nails fame (2010’s The Social Network, 2020’s Mank) compose for the scenes in the Great Before and jazz pianist Jon Batiste composes for the scenes in New York. Anyone who has read in my past reviews about my thoughts about film music are probably guessing that I dislike Reznor and Ross’ compositions for film. They would be correct. So far in their nascent film scoring careers, Reznor and Ross’ ominous synths for David Fincher’s movies sound too much like background droning, minimalist aural wallpaper. Their scores – all texture and little else – have no life outside the contexts of the movies they appear in. In Soul, Reznor and Ross develop a soothing synth sound that is some of their most melodic film music yet. It sounds like Jerry Martin’s music for the less interesting moments from the early Sims and SimCity soundtracks. Still, the score – even in its best moments, such as the lustrous cue “Epiphany” – suits the portions of the film it appears in. Perhaps Reznor and Ross are finally making progress towards understanding how melodic structure can dramatically reshape a film’s drama.

Down on Earth, Soul plays the music of Jon Batiste, perhaps best known as the bandleader of his band Stay Human on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. Not all of Stay Human’s members were selected to perform for the score, as Batiste chose a handful of musicians from outside his band. The jazz score is mostly original, but includes variations on four pre-existing songs: “Space Maker” (Walter Norris), “Cristo Redentor” (Duke Pearson), “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart” (Duke Ellington), and “Blue Rondo à la Turk" (Dave Brubeck). Batiste’s jazz influences are too many to name for a review not solely dedicated to the score, but suffice it to say that Batiste intended his part of the film score to serve as a soft introduction to viewers who might not be accustomed to jazz. In this half, Batiste captures the bustle of New York City with his signature floating piano solos. Backed by tremendous saxophone lines, percussion, and double bass, this is a decidedly acoustic affair in marked contrast to the music of Reznor and Ross. The musical contrast is profound, easing the viewer into Soul’s occasionally chaotic narrative structure. By film’s end, though, despite Batiste’s end titles cover of The Impressions’ “It’s All Right” (a wise selection in no small part due to its lyrics), I wanted more from the jazz half of the score and wished it was held greater prominence in the film. Am I unashamedly asking for someone to hire Jon Batiste and give him the freedom to compose an unconstrained jazz score? Of course!

In a year where straight-to-streaming movie releases have dominated the American film industry, Soul ranked third in viewership behind Thomas Kail’s live stage filming of Hamilton (2020) and Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman 1984 (2020). Has Pixar righted its inconsistent form apparent over the 2010s decade? Can they ever recover the alchemy that reeled off consecutive pop culture touchstones and wondrous films for fifteen years (1995’s Toy Story to 2010’s Toy Story 3, excluding Cars)? Soul might not be the fair winds needed to steer Pixar from its worst habits, and it is unfair to place such a burden on this film. That fifteen-year run might also never be matched again. For what Soul represents to Pixar’s rather monochromatic leadership and narrative groupthink, it is a fascinating step outside the familiar.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Soul #Pete Docter #Pixar #Jamie Foxx #Tina Fey #Graham Norton #Phylicia Rashad #Donnell Rawlings #Questlove #Angela Bassett #Trent Reznor #Atticus Ross #Jon Batiste #Mike Jones #Kemp Powers #My Movie Odyssey

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