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rhysdarbyarchive · 2 years

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Interview with Rhys from the 20 October 2010 issue of Inpress Magazine

Rhys Darby is heading back to Australia with his new stand-up show, It's Rhys Darby Night. The Kiwi comedian speaks to Aleksia Barron about his rapid rise to the upper eschelons of the comedy world.

When Rhys Darby answers the phone from his headquarters in New Zealand, the temptation to demand a Flight of the Conchords band-meeting style roll call is almost overwhelming -- but most certainly unoriginal.

When asked whether journalists are still demanding that Darby declare himself 'present', he laughs. "It's almost gone, the roll-call hounding," he says. "It was very big last year. But you do get the odd mention."

New Zealand's number one ginger ninja, Darby, is a comedic star on the rise. After years of traipsing around the UK peddling his wares as a stand-up comic, he became involved with a radio project alongside a pair of Kiwi funnymen, Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement. That project was Flight of the Conchords, which gave rise to the television series of the same name catapulting the trio of New Zealanders to overnight fame. And while McKenzie and Clement were front and centre in the spotlight, Darby's performance as hapless band manager Murray saw him getting noticed by the industry elite.

The turning point where Darby realised that he had truly reached a new level of success was his appearance in the Jim Carrey vehicle Yes Man. It was a sign that a career in comedy acting was a real possibility for him.

"I certainly hoped that that's where I could go, but I had no idea that it would happen that fast and that quickly," he explains. "Getting Yes Man, that was just freaky. I'd sort of idolised Jim Carrey for a long time, and I hoped to one day maybe meet him -- but to act in a film with him, my first feature film, well, I can't really describe how that felt. I thought, 'This should take a bit longer'."

The cherry on the sundae, so to speak, was Carrey's unrestrained public praise of Darby while on the film's promotional circuit, when the established actor likened his co-star to Peter Sellers. "That meant a lot to me, coming from a man that I'd looked up to so much."

There's been no shortage of feature film opportunities for Darby since, including a cameo on oddball hit The Boat That Rocked and parts in upcoming rom-coms Coming & Going and Love Birds.

"I kind of just had to hold onto the reins," he says, laughing. However, never one to rest on his laurels, Darby was keen to show his chops on the stand-up circuit. He embarked on a worldwide tour, coinciding with the release of his stand-up comedy DVD, Imagine That!. The DVD release, Darby explains, introduced audiences to his stand-up style, which helped him be seen as himself, not just Murray. "It was really perfect timing, because [the DVD] became quite popular, and then people knew that I did actually do stand-up. People were already aware of it when I went on tour."

Now he's returning to stages around the world with a new show, It's Rhys Darby Night, in which he's broadened his on-stage range of comedic tricks. While Darby's stand-up is known for his sound effects and impressions, this time around, he's raising the bar.

"I do three characters in the show, which to me are probably the funniest part in it," he says, adding that these characters will involve, "actually going back and putting a different outfit on. I decided I could do this because I've done a bit of acting and people seem to laugh at my characterisations on film, so I've added that."

Conchords fans will doubtless be pleased to know that It's Rhys Darby Night will feature Darby's musical abilities as well (who could forget Leggy Blonde or the operatic Rejected?). "I've got a theme song!" he says enthusiastically. "I think everyone should have one, which you can slip out at parties. I open the show with a theme song about me, based on me, sung by me." He chuckles, "I don't know how good it is, but people seem to laugh."

The reason behind the new material, Darby explains, is his increased confidence in his comedic acting abilities. "For me, stand-up has always evolved, and as I've grown in popularity I've thought, 'Okay, people do like what I've got, so I'll challenge myself'. I just love doing comedy acting now."

However, when it comes to looking at the longer term, Darby remains drawn to the small screen. Television, not film or stage, is the medium in which he would like to do the majority of his work. "It's not as fleeting as the other two," he explains. "On film, you're only working with people for three months. And with stand-up, you're very much on your town. Television -- with the limited work I've done on Conchords -- you've got a family. That appeals to me the most, really."

It seems a loaded statement, given the persistent rumours that Darby will take Steve Carrell's place on the US version of The Office. However, when asked where he'd like to be in a year's time, he speaks enthusiastically about his own project, based on one of his new stand-up characters, park ranger Bill Napier.

"We've just shot the pilot," he says proudly. "It's set in New Zealand, about a ranger who goes around the world on adventures, so it's a bit of an Indiana Jones kind of thing, but it's a sitcom. It's the world's first action-adventure sitcom." It sounds just about crazy enough to work, and Darby, who would prefer to remain based in New Zealand with his young family, is crossing his fingers.

"My dream is for that to come about, to be able to film it here, and to sell it to the Americans -- then the whole world can see it."

For now, however, Darby is just excited to be getting back on stage and showing his expanded range as a stand-up comic. "It's about having fun and doing it all." Still, for fans of his earlier work, he's keen to make sure they walk away happy. "I'll usually do a couple of encores -- stuff they've seen in an earlier show or on my DVD, which I know they love." Whatever Darby does, it's clear he'll always aim for the best. "I'm trying to give them everything I've got."

#rhys darby #interview #magazine #2010s #2010 #aus #i have so many thoughts about so many of the things mentioned in this article holy shit #this is from a free magazine from melbourne street press what a fucking awesome interview #bnl

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onestowatch · 2 years

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Mothé Explores Pain and Healing in Debut Album 'I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore' [Q&A]

Photo: Victor Grossling

Indie alternative artist Mothé, born Spencer Fort, has finally released their long-awaited debut album, I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore. The 12-track body of work explores hurt, healing, and moving toward the future, all wrapped in eclectic and engaging soundscapes that provoke a deep range of emotions.

I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore not only demonstrates Mothé's remarkable ability to create and produce music that sounds exactly how it feels, alongside collaborative producer Robert Adam Stevenson. The attention to detail to each track's intricate, evolving sounds shows meticulous care and passion that marks the beginning of something bigger ahead for the up-and-coming musician. I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore opens with indie-rock jam "Dancing On An Empty Floor" before catapulting listeners down a rabbit hole full of sonic and emotional ups and downs.

Ones To Watch was able to talk with Mothé about their debut album, their experiences with challenging shoots, and what they hope to create in the future.

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Ones To Watch: Before forming Mothé, you were a part of a project called Moth Wings. When did you begin your journey as a solo artist, and how did that lead to where you are now?

Mothé: Moth Wings was a two-piece band that I was in with my friend Luke for probably five or six years. It was a house show band. It was as DIY as they come, and we were going on tours all the time playing to 20 people, you know, that sort of touring in the minivan grind. So when I moved out to Los Angeles, I was going into these sessions, and I was writing songs that I felt were maybe a little more developed for rooms outside of the house show scene because the whole thing with Moth Wings is that we were a two-piece and we were just loud as fuck, and that was kind of the vibe. And then it was like, oh, I'm writing music that I could see on a different stage for the first time. It kind of like left me asking myself, “Is this a developmental extension of Moth Wings? What's going on?” Then at some point, the drummer told me that he didn't want to do music for a living, and once we split ways, it made a lot of sense for me to kind of just adapt the name that I'd already been using to grow everything, but say like, this is the start of a new thing. The old songs will stay up, but I'm not going to go back to them. And now I was working and writing more as a solo artist, and then it was time to maybe give myself a name that I could really take as a name. Like people can call me Mothé, they can't necessarily call me Moth Wings.

Right, so you developed this new artistic character that feels completely separate from anything you've previously done.

Yeah. She's a lot more confident than me. It's kind of this fun moment where I get to be the person I maybe don't feel confident enough to be in my daily life. I didn't have that until it was a character I could truly slip into, and it turns out it's just me. It's like I'm having more fun than I am when I'm just Spencer.

Did you realize that you were creating an album?

I love that question; nobody's ever asked me that. This was not a planned album. I did not go into it thinking I should be making an album. It started when I was making an EP, and this was going to be my second EP. I had played the EP game for a bit, and I had this one song on it that felt like an album closer. Then I started looking around, and I was like, "I have eight songs I want to put on this." I was working with Robert Stevenson and we both kind of at the same time were like, "I think this is a record." Some of these songs needed to be padded with a little more context for them to really land in the ways they're supposed to. That was when we added the last songs like "Debt Collector," "Dancing On An Empty Floor," and these more dancey songs that really push it into the album territory. I had all these more thinky songs that I was having a hard time packaging into a presentable format, and that was when it was like, "Hey, I think we're making an album." And then we decided it was an album, and then we went out to Sonic Ranch and recorded it in like six days. It was super, super intense. So yeah, no, we didn't know we were making an album, but it felt really natural and right, and kind of felt like the time to make one and interact with a longer form.

What do you feel is the story of this album?

I think the album honestly has a lot to do with this constant state of doom that we are experiencing. A lot of it was written during the pandemic. I was freaking out. The whole album was just a process of finding like, "Hey, there's impending doom, and there has been impending doom always, and it will always continue to be impending doom.” So the idea eventually became to take this light-hearted approach to the state of the world where it was like, "It's coming for you, and so what? What are you gonna do about it? You can't do anything about it."

Accept there's nothing you can do.

Yeah, so in the spirit of that, that's why it's called I Don't Want You To Worry Anymore, which is a serious statement, but it's just kind of true. It's meant to be a blanket. Like, hey, all this stuff. It's like, "Hey, all this stuff. You can't change it."

One of my favorite tracks on this album is "Leave A Little Later." I especially loved the more sound collage, abstract moments in that song and in the overall body of work. What were some of your favorite music moments from the record?

It's those moments for me too. Honestly, if I was not worried about anything and was living off the land and everything was taken care of, you know, I might fuck around and make ambient music and just never write a song ever because I love textures. I love sounds and textures so much. So "Leave A Little Later," I have to agree. It's one of my favorite songs on the record. I'm so prepared for people to not like that one and be like, "What is this???" But that song was so fun to make, and I remember the first time that we had the synths drop down past where they could go, and I was like, "This is so fun!" I also loved making "Isaac," because it was like, “How do we take these abstract sounds and package them into this digestible format.” It's such a puzzle to be like, "I like this texture; how do you make that a song?" So those moments are definitely my favorite moments on the record, as well as "Everyone Has Everything." I also like the saxophone pad in "Concrete Smile." That was something we added kind of at the end. I was getting to do these really kind of dense, noisy saxophone arrangements and use the saxophone in a way that isn't just like an ‘80s inspired saxophone solo. I got to use it like an organ, which was really exciting, and I think that's a really special moment on the album for me.

Breaking down the preconceived notions of what a sax can do!

Yeah! It's too beautiful an instrument to only be doing solos and weird cheesy songs, you know?

What sonic texture do you feel is vastly underutilized or underappreciated in ambient music or in general?

I tend to like harsher sounds lately. Specifically, I, at the moment, have been enjoying taking two oscillators and putting them against each other and just out of sync so that they are constantly fighting for the same space. It sounds like this [makes crashing sounds] distortion that's really specific, and I've been really, really enjoying that. I got a little tape machine that I've just been putting way past the peak limit so that everything comes in like [makes warped sounds] kind of vibe. I'm just having fun cause I'm in between albums right now. I can do anything, so I'm just experimenting. I've been making these harsh sounds, because it's just feeling good to be really loud. I did the beautiful ambient album. The next one, I am assuming, will just have a lot of like [makes crashing sounds].

What song are you most excited for people to listen to that hasn't been released yet?

I'm really excited for people to hear "Isaac." I felt like maybe, you know, there's a reason I put it so early in the record. You open with this kind of dancey song, and you're like, "This is an indie record! Whoa, cool!" And then it's like, and we're gonna go here. It's jarring, and it's maybe designed to not work. Who knows?

Only one way to find out.

Yeah, but I'm excited for people to hear that song especially. With the singles that we've put out, I think we've intentionally been reaching people who liked this one specific genre quite a bit and maybe haven't checked out a lot of ambient music. So I really like the idea of being a gateway for some people cause all the singles have been very indie rock, and it's an indie rock album, but then I'm just happy to send some curveballs in there for them. So hopefully, people are like, "What is this? Where does this come from?" and they sort of go down the rabbit hole I did whenever I got into alternative music and subgenres and just weird stuff.

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Out of all of the released music videos, which one is your favorite?

I think that was pretty fun to make. I actually quite enjoyed doing "Terrified" because I enjoyed the process of shooting that, which was basically just doing a bunch of one-take contemporary dance pieces in a sort of high fashion gown. That felt very in tune with who I am. I loved shooting "Debt Collector" because it was so funny. It was so funny because my younger brother was the actor in that, and so he was shoving me in a trunk and slamming the trunk door on me or whatever, and I was like, "This is so ridiculous." We're doing a lot of this stuff, DIY and low budget, so we don't have a lot of damage control. He just has a real knife. Like he was shoving a real knife in front of my throat, and I'm like, "I trust you so much. My younger brother, please do not stab me in the neck," and so for that reason, I kind of found that one fun cause it was like my younger brother's finally kicking my ass.

What were the more challenging aspects of doing the shoots, other than almost being stabbed by your brother?

I think that shoots are just always hard. I don't envy people who do that full-time. The people who experience 12 hour days most of the time are sometimes outdoors for 12 hours, sometimes they're indoors for 12 hours, and you don't see the sun, and there are all these random hiccups. There's a part in "Terrified" that did end up getting cut. We were supposed to be doing an underwater scuba scene in a pool, but the pool was so cold that I couldn't get oxygen to my lungs and stuff. It just puts you in really bizarre situations. So I was strapped down to this brick, being held down by chains in the scene with scuba equipment floating in this giant dress and freaking out. I was like, "I'm too anxious. It's too cold to breathe. I'm so scared right now, even though I realistically have oxygen," which was incredibly challenging. I'm hesitant to say it, but I don't even know if I enjoy making music videos.

I know that you just announced that you will be joining The Wrecks on tour this summer starting in June. If you could perform anywhere tomorrow, where would you go?

Probably somewhere crazy, honestly.

Like Iceland?

Yeah! Just do the premature Antarctica show. [laughs] What I would actually do is I want to play whatever 200 cap room has the best sound in America. There's something about the super tight show where everyone's sweaty and flailing around yelling into the mic thing that I have not gotten to do in years, and I miss it so much. I want to play in punk venues. I definitely still need a moment of yelling, sweating, and being crammed into a tight room. I don't have a specific venue name for that or a good city. It's just whatever I can do to get that moment back in my life. Mothé’s I Don’t Want You To Worry Anymore is available everywhere you can stream it.

#mothe #interview #i dont want you to worry anymore #alternative

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 3 years

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Break My Heart (myg)

Summary: It’s over, and both you and Yoongi think about the past.

A/N: Thanks to @taegularities and @casuallyimagining for betaing this for me!

Warnings: angst, alcohol used as a coping mechanism, some making out and nipple play but this is mostly sad

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 5221

You try to push past him, but he throws you over his shoulder and you don’t even fight him, let him take you to the bed. His eyes are wet and his hands are soft on your skin.

“Don’t,” he starts, but you’re not listening. You’ve listened too much over the last year.

“Yoongi.”

He makes a whine in the back of his throat, hides his face in your neck. Your hands come up to rub his back - it’s like a reflex - before you push him off, head toward the door.

He won’t follow you. He never does.

You’re wrong, though. You’re wrong about so many things. He follows you into the hallway, into the elevator, keeps the door open with one foot while you try to shove him back out into the hallway. Finally, you end up fuming at the back of the elevator, arms crossed over your chest, glaring at him.

Yoongi’s trembling, you can see his hand shaking as he holds it out to you. He says your name, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“You wanna break my heart?

Your breath hitches in your chest as you’re catapulted back a year, two years, 5 years. You can see yourself then, your hair shorter and blonder, his hair darker. He was skinnier, then. Hell, so were you.

You were sitting on a curb, half crying and all drunk after a night out, trying to forget a recent breakup, when Yoongi sat down next to you, offered you what at first you thought was a handkerchief, but what ended up being a simple bar napkin.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving you a crooked smile and a tilt of his head. “Don’t cry. You wanna break my heart?”

It started so innocently, you and Yoongi. You were friends first, best friends even. He sat next to you on that curb, rubbed your back until you stopped crying, and you explained the whole situation to him, barely registering that he’d draped his jacket over your shoulders. He didn’t speak, just listened and nodded in the right moments, and when you were done, your cheeks hot from embarrassment of spilling out everything in your mind, he made this little hum in the back of his throat.

“So you need something to get him off your back,” he said thoughtfully.

You looked at him for a moment, stunned. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

Your ex had been relentless in his pursuit to get you to talk to him after he’d cheated on you, and you were well and truly not interested. That night, you’d been sure you’d be free of him because he’d always been the type to go away for spring break, but he’d been there after all, chasing you around the clubs downtown.

Yoongi (you remembered his name, he’d told you as soon as he’d sat down and introduced himself while you were crying), hummed again.

“I have an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Trust me,” he said, and gave you this open, gummy smile.

You did trust him, somehow, even though you didn’t know why. He leaned in close, whispered his plan in your ear, and even though it sent a shock down your spine, you nodded. Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were just being curious. Either way, it started this thing. Started this slide, like a mudslide down the longest mountain.

You jumped in, with your eyes wide open, trusted him from the jump, and maybe you’d been wrong. Maybe you’d been wrong about a lot of things.

You were 20 when Yoongi had leaned in closer, just below your dangling earring, and planted the softest, most open kiss on your neck. Goosebumps pimpled your flesh, but you didn’t move, in fact, tilted your head to give him better access.

Seconds passed before he swept your hair from your shoulder, his fingertips brushing your skin, and you let out a breath with a little whine. He murmured something when he kissed you there again, this time sucking at your skin, almost roughly.

“Pretty,” you think it was what he said, but as important as that moment was, with all the things it started, that part was fuzzy because your head spun at the softness of his lips on your skin, the sting when he’d marked you there.

“There,” Yoongi said, still half mumbling, and you wondered how much he’d drunk.

His eyes were clear and warm when you looked at him, though, although his cheeks were dusted rose.

“Uh, th-thank you,” you muttered, feeling small and embarrassed now after it was over.

Yoongi gave you that gummy smile again, and you felt better almost instantly.

You didn’t know it then, but Yoongi always had that effect on you...until he didn’t. Until he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes. Until you stopped counting the hours he spent away from the bed you shared. Until it was over.

Yoongi stands next to your car, hands on your hood, tears streaming down his face and his eyes pleading with you. But you block it out, look straight ahead, start the car and rev the engine until he moves.

At first, you’re not quite sure he will, but finally he steps back, shoulders slumped, defeated. You manage not to cry, at least not until you’ve pulled over on the interstate, cars whooshing by you as you cover your face.

It isn’t as if you hadn’t tried.

You know how important Yoongi’s music is to him, you know he’s been working on getting an album produced and you’re proud of him, you really are, but...

But: you have barely seen his face in three months. But: you keep sleeping on one side of the bed because it’s cold on his side. But: you fucking miss him.

You want to talk to him about it, but how can you? How can you when you know this is everything to him? Even when you’d been kids in college, he’d dreamed of producing an album and this opportunity hadn’t just dropped in his lap, he’d worked for it. You’re supposed to be supportive, but all you can do is wonder how long it will be before you see his gummy smile again.

But: when he is home, he’s barely there, drinking too much coffee or scotch, depending on the time of day, barely looking at you, barely talking to you, grunting at you in response, mechanically eating the dinner you’d prepare.

One night, you’d push back from the table, frustrated, and it’d hit the counter with a thud.

Yoongi had looked up from his food, blinked at you as if he was waking from a dream.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“No,” you’d answered. “I’m not.”

You’d stormed off to the bedroom, and he hadn’t followed you. Hours later, he’d slid into bed next to you, his lips on your neck, the same spot he’d kissed that first night.

“I’m sorry,” he’d mumbled against your skin, words slurred around the edges just like the night you'd met.

You could smell the red wine he liked at dinner on his breath when you turned, and they’d been on the tip of your tongue, the words.

"What's wrong?" you’d wanted to ask. "Is it me?"

That las thought had kept you from speaking, allowed those words to die in your throat as you’d looped your arms around his neck, tasted the red wine on his tongue.

Because: what if it was something big, something you couldn’t fix? Because: what if it was you? What would you’ve done, then?

After the night outside the club, after Yoongi's mouth on your throat, you woke up the next morning and thumbed the mark he'd left while looking in the mirror.

Thinking about it made your face heat and it got worse when you saw him on campus, big gummy smile and looking a lot less hungover than you, his bleached bangs in his face.

"Hey, you," he said in this low voice, and you couldn’t help smiling back.

It went on like that, you and Yoongi, for months, and then a year, and then eighteen months. He walked you to most of your classes, bought you lunch, once or twice made you laugh so hard you'd snorted banana milk out of your nose. Things became easy with him, and it was so much like a friendship that you barely noticed when you began to fall in love with him.

Falling was easy, but gradual. By the time you realized it, he was graduating and you were a junior and you had no fucking idea what to do about it. You stood at the corner of his best friend's apartment, where there was booze and balloons and about 20 people, and sipped some foul smelling punch that someone had handed you, and looked for him.

You wondered how often you'd done this, looked for him in a crowd, felt your heart swell inside your chest when you found him, when he broke into that familiar gummy smile. You wondered how long you'd been in love and not known it, when he suddenly slid up behind you, his fingers light on your hip.

"Hey, you," he murmured, and you tilted your head back to look at him.

You smiled, just a bit, and he took this comical hitched breath.

"Y/n," he said, as if scolding you. "Don't look at me like that. You wanna break my heart?"

To this day, you aren’t sure if it was that he might’ve been leaving the country or that awful hunch punch, but your heart pounded against your chest too hard, and all you could think to do was to kiss him.

Quickly, without much thought, your lips pressed against his. It had been almost chaste, really, but Yoongi made this low, surprised sound in the back of his throat, his arms going around you and cinching at your waist, tightly, in this near possessive gesture that made your stomach tighten.

And that was it, at least for you. He’d kissed you back, and you’d been all but lost.

Yoongi didn’t leave the country, despite his plans. Later you wondered if that’d been your first mistake: not being strong enough to let him go.

It’s raining now, the sound of it thudding on the roof of your car louder than your heartbeat, and you can’t stop crying, gasping in these hitching breaths every few minutes, your stomach clenching from the force of your sobs. You know it’s dangerous here, on the side of the road and you can’t even remember if you’ve turned on your flashers but that doesn’t seem to matter, all that matters is that you can’t breathe, something viscous and rotten in your chest and stomach, something like all the mistakes you’ve made and all the regrets you have, maybe all those words, those questions you should have asked but didn’t. They’re choking you, poisoning you from the inside out and it’s flooding, but you fumble with the door handle, push the door open and swing your legs out, putting your head between your knees.

When you lift your head, finally able to breathe again, wanting to feel the rain on your face, there’s the bright glow of headlights, and then a blissful black fades over your eyes. You’re almost grateful.

Your dreams are almost all memories.

It’s disjointed, at first, but then you know where you are. Yoongi’s loft apartment back in college, and you know you’re dreaming but you can feel his hands on you nevertheless. You remember them being cold, clammy almost, and he was trembling as if he was nervous.

You laughed at him when he fumbled with your bra strap and he made this grumble in the back of his throat that made you laugh harder.

The laughter died in your throat when he pulled your breasts out of your bra impatiently, dragged his thumbs across your nipples. Your skin felt hot, like you were fevered, when he leaned forward and marked that spot below your ear again, harder, his teeth grazing against your skin.

When you were bare and arching your back beneath him, he sat up on his knees, his eyes dark and hungry looking down at you.

“God,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly. “You are gonna break my heart.”

It’s starts to rain when Yoongi watches you drive away, and he looks down at the pavement and thinks about the first time he saw you, head in your hands, sitting on the curb with your legs crossed like a child.

Something about the way your shoulders had slumped tugged at his heartstrings, drew him to you, and when you looked at him, eyes big and wet, it had been alarming how much it made his heart ache.

He always hated to see you cry.

You weren’t even crying much when he’d pinned you to the bed, hoped he could make it okay with kisses on your throat and chin, make you smile again. Not even when he begged you to stay in the elevator, in the parking lot, banging his hands uselessly on the hood of your car.

“You’re a million miles away, Yoongi,” you’d said, drying your hands after loading the dishwasher, throwing the cloth with more aggression than he’d expected.

“I’m right here,” he’d said easily, and you let out a long breath and he knew that was the wrong thing to say. Knew it was wrong because it was a lie and you fucking knew it. You knew him, better than maybe anyone else in the world.

“You act as if I don’t fucking know you, Yoongi,” you’d said, something vicious in your voice and he stayed seated at the table as you glared at him, stunned that you’d said almost exactly what he’d been thinking.

He doesn’t know why he’d been surprised. You’d always seen right through him, from the first night.

Yoongi remembers the night he’d finally confessed, after two years of watching the line of your neck, wishing he could kiss it again, leave his mark there, after two years of watching other guys flirt with you and pretending it didn’t make his skin heat up, something buzzing under his skin like a beehive.

He remembers, suddenly and painfully, the way you’d tilted your chin up, turned your head to face him at his graduation party, remembers how full his heart had been, how joy had shot through him like lightning when he’d put his arms around you and you didn’t pull away, how just one corner of your mouth turned up.

He remembers wanting to tell you, wanting to tell you just how much he felt, how he felt full to bursting with you, like you’d burrowed under his skin. He remembers wanting to tell you how he planed every day around you, how the things he’d do almost scared him, the things he’d sacrifice, to keep seeing you smile every day.

Yoongi hadn’t known how to explain it so that you’d understand, so instead he’d done his best to press it into you with his hands and his mouth, like you’d somehow be able to feel it through osmosis, and maybe you had, because after that first night, things had caught on like wildfire.

He’d never told you, really, never actually confessed, and maybe that had been his first mistake.

Yoongi knows that you’ve been drifting apart for weeks. Months. He knows that he’s been absent, not you, knows how hard you’ve been trying but he can’t bring himself to talk to you about it.

What would he say? That he has this opportunity, that he has this once in a lifetime thing and he has to move thousands of miles away for it? That he can’t bring you with him, that they’ve made that crystal clear?

Yoongi is still just as afraid as he was all those years ago, about what he’d sacrifice for you, because half of him wants to give it all up, tell them to fuck off, he’ll make music in a den in your little one bedroom apartment just so that he can be with you every day. Nothing has ever meant more to him than music, but you. You.

Yoongi can’t tell you that he has this choice to make, this fucking impossible choice but instead of making it, all he can do is try to push it away, ignore it, put it off another week and keep drinking too much when he’s home because he can’t bear the way your eyes plead with him to be with you, to be present and in the moment like the two of you always had been. He can’t bear to think of what it’d be like to not see your purple coffee mug on the counter in the mornings, to not be able to roll over and kiss that hallowed spot below your ear that he’d first marked all those years ago.

Yoongi hadn’t responded, looked down at the table until you’d slammed your hands down on it, angry, your eyes bright.

“Are you fucking someone else?” you’d asked, your voice eerily calm despite how angry you looked, and it was like a spear through his gut.

He’d scoffed, because that was ridiculous. I It wasn’t even worth a response but you stormed towards the door and his breath caught in his throat like a wriggling fish and he tried to stop you but you were absolutely fuming now, angry in a way he’d rarely seen you.

He braced his back against the door, thought that at least he could stop this, at least he could calm you down but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

Yoongi had ended up here, head spinning with the three glasses of wine he’d had at dinner and chest feeling , like you’d ripped his heart out when you’d gone away.

He stands there as it starts to rain, breathing hard, half dressed, and wonders where you’ll go. To your best friend’s apartment? Your mother’s? They’ve both always hated him, anyway.

Maybe all the time he’d spent away at the studio, those nights you’d come home late, maybe...maybe there was someone else. The thought makes his breath hitch in his chest, makes him stumble backwards as if someone has punched him in the stomach, before he turns to go back inside.

The thought sticks in his brain like a fishhook. You’d ask if he was fucking someone else. Is that because you were? At the very least, maybe you’d met someone. Someone who was attentive, someone who listened to you. Someone who was there.

Yoongi isn’t used to this feeling. He’s never been the possessive type, always had an amount of confidence that kept him from ever feeling too jealous. He remembers clearly the last time he’d felt this way, and of course, it was you. Wasn’t it always?

You’d never dated much, always been focused on your studies. Yoongi never even thought about what would’ve happened when you’d start seeing someone.

He’d been your best friend for six months when you started dating a lacrosse player, a big guy (bigger than Yoongi), and even then, Yoongi shrugged off the slight irritation he felt when you canceled a dinner with him.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on a bench under a tree, studying before an exam, that he saw you with your new beau. You were laughing, piggybacking, your arms braced on his considerable shoulders.

Yoongi’s skin prickled, like he had a chill or a fever. He felt angry, suddenly, and couldn’t put his finger on why. He sat there, fuming, unable to take his eyes off you, until your boyfriend slid you down, turned to lean down and kiss you, and then Yoongi couldn’t look anymore.

The anger roiling in his gut turned to something else, something worse, something that dug in and festered over the next few days. He saw your laughing mouth behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes, the way you were still smiling when your boyfriend kissed you.

He wondered late at night when he couldn’t sleep, if you were being held or, even worse, being fucked. It made something vile rise in his throat, like he’d had too much to drink and needed to purge it. It was another agonizing month before he realized he was in love with you, and another month after that before you and your boyfriend broke up.

He curses himself for drinking so much, wishing he could just get in his car and come after you. He fumbles with his phone, the screen swimming in his vision, and he wipes at his eyes angrily. You don’t answer, and he isn’t surprised, leaves a voicemail in a broken voice that he’d be embarrassed about if he had any dignity left. He hates feeling like this, out of control, as if there’s nothing he can do to quiet the madness in his head and his heart.

Yoongi presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing in until he sees spots dance under his eyelids, breathing in deep to try and control his emotions. His mind is racing, thinking of what happens now, all the possibilities of the coming days and weeks and months and years.

You move out, he supposes. Come and get your things, take away all the pieces of you that have accumulated in the apartment over the years. He wonders if you’ll leave something behind, a piece of clothing, maybe that purple mug you like so much. Something he can keep, look at later and remember you.

What happens to all the pictures of you, online? Would you delete them? Block him on everything so that he can’t see your face even on a screen? Panic rises in his throat when he realizes you were always the one taking the pictures, posting them on social media, and he isn’t sure he has many saved.

Yoongi feels like he’ll surely go crazy if he doesn’t have some part of this relationship, something he can look back on that isn’t just memories, because it’ll feel like he made it up, like it was always one sided, from the moment he’d sat next to you on that curb.

Without something, how does he convince himself it was real, that you’d loved him?

On the other hand, what if you didn’t get your things? What if you left everything behind, kept being active on social media, moved on? Started living your life without him, moving on with a new apartment, a new partner?

Yoongi chokes back a sob, alone in the apartment but still holding back, still hiding, and he hates himself for it. When you don’t answer the second, third, fourth time he calls, he curls up on the couch, hoping that he’ll pass out, stop thinking, because it’s like his brain is vibrating in his skull with all the racing thoughts he has, a headache forming between his eyebrows.

After some time and a few deep breaths, he fights the urge to upturn the second bottle of wine in the cabinet and thinks that there’s a possibility, however slim, that you might be back when he wakes up, tear streaked and soaked from the rain but still his, and the thought comforts him enough that he’s able to fall asleep.

He has these dreams, vivid and disjointed, where he’s reaching out to you and he keeps getting further and further away. Another, where you won’t even look at him, no matter what he says, no matter how much he begs.

When he wakes, it’s cold in the apartment. You are, were, always the one who’d turn on the heat, and he knows you’re still not home the second he opens his eyes.

Yoongi feels antsy all day, full of nervous energy, and he can’t stop himself from calling you every couple of hours, leaving text messages and begging you just to answer once, to let him hear your voice.

The second day is when he starts to panic in earnest, and he’s about to bite the bullet and call your mother when his phone rings.

The oxygen filters out of the air as he listens, and his heart starts pounding in his ears as soon as he hangs up the phone. He’s out the door wearing nothing but a pair of sweats and a tshirt, cursing and returning for his jacket when he realizes it’s still raining.

The hospital hadn’t said much, just that you were there, that he was your emergency contact, and he breaks all manner of traffic laws to get to you, trying not to think of what might have happened, of how it might be his fault.

When he arrives, it’s both better and worse than he’d thought - you’d been found on the highway, unconscious, and god knows how long you’d lain there in the mud before a passerby had stopped and taken you to the hospital.

Pneumonia, they say, telling him that you’ve been in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Yoongi had been your emergency contact. You hadn’t been taking care of yourself, and a night in the rain and in the elements hadn’t helped. Of course he hadn’t noticed. Of course he hadn’t seen how pale you were, how gaunt your cheeks were.

Yoongi stands there, wondering if the doctor can tell that all the blood has drained from his face, his heart thudding hard and useless against his chest plate.

He nods where he’s supposed to and when the doctor leaves the room, Yoongi sits down hard on a nearby chair in the waiting area. He can go in now, they’d said, but how could he? How could he go in there, see you hooked up to IV antibiotics, know that it’s his fault? People die from pneumonia, don’t they? His throat closes up with panic and he has to draw in a long breath through his nostrils to calm himself.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, his forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped together. There’s this series of memories rushing through his mind, like snapshots.

Your mouth pressed against his, soft and almost chaste, his arms locked around your waist. He wanted to twirl you around to face him, kiss you hard and dirty in front of all his friends, mark that spot just under your ear again. Not to show them that he possesses you, not to show them that he can kiss such a beautiful woman, but to show everyone how much he loved you, how his every thought was tinged with you.

Instead, he kissed you back just as chastely, stuck to you like glue all night despite it being his party with many trying to come and congratulate them. He had his hands on you all night, at your lower back, sometimes just lightly on your hip, sometimes intertwining his fingers with yours.

And when he walked you back to your dorm, he shuffled his feet at the door, puffed out his cheeks and blown out a breath and looked up at you.

“Yoongi,” you said, and God, he loved how his name sounded on your lips, this lilt like you were always teasing him. “You wanna come in for a drink?”

His cheeks were already flushed from alcohol and he probably shouldn’t have, but you took his hand and he would’ve followed you anywhere, to hell if you’d asked him.

Yoongi had so many plans on how to confess to you before he’d leave the country to go back home, to try and work on music like he’d always planned, most of them some grand romantic gestures, but instead, he stood with his hands shoved in his pockets just inside your door, and called your name.

You turned, standing in the kitchen, and his eyes followed the line of your throat, the curve of your cheek.

“I’m gonna stay,” he blurted out, and he already had a very expensive plane ticket in his wallet but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Yoongi stands up, heads toward your hospital room but he stops at the doorway, hears the beep of the machines and it makes his heart stutter.

He stands outside the door, unable to look inside. More snapshots float through his mind as he leans back against the wall, breathing hard.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, right into the shell of his ear and it made him shiver. He was standing so close to you, one hand on your hip, the other braced on the counter as if he’d fall against you, fall into you.

“Mmm,” he managed, leaning forward, as if you’d beckoned him, and every inch of his skin that touched yours felt heated.

“What’s happening right now?” you asked, and he wanted to laugh but he couldn’t, looking into your wide eyes. You’d been best friends for two years, seen each other at your worst. Now all he could do was think about how much he loved every part of you, good and bad, inside and out.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, and leaned down to kiss you, his hand moving to your lower back seemingly of its own volition, pulling you closer so that your breasts pressed against his chest.

His tongue slid against yours and his heart seemed like it might thud out of his chest.

When he pulled away from you, breathless, you let out a whine from the back of your throat, just like that first night when he’d marked you, and he couldn't stand it, the way it felt, how much he felt.

He wanted to run but something was pulling him toward you instead of away and instead, he kissed you again.

You pulled away this time, trembling in his arms.

“Yoongi,” you said again. “Are we doing this? Are you-”

“Am I in love with you?” he asked, chest heaving, it was as if he couldn’t catch his breath no matter how hard he tried.

You nodded, slowly, your cheeks flushed.

Instead of speaking, Yoongi nodded back, slowly, and a small smile spread across your lips.

“Yoongi,” you repeated, his name from your lips his favorite sound. “Kiss me again.”

That memory forces Yoongi to enter the room, sit by your bed. You look sick and gray and he wants to take your hand but something stops him.

He thinks now that it’s settled, that he’ll talk to you, that he’ll rework his contract, do anything to make things better. Maybe it won’t work, maybe you’re done, but he can try. He has to try.

Your eyes are closed, lashes fanning across your cheekbones and when Yoongi reaches out to touch your face, he sees that his hands are trembling.

When you do wake, a few moments later, Yoongi wants to crawl under the bed and hide, knows that he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“Yoongi,” you call, and your voice is hoarse and confused but tears stream down Yoongi’s face because it’s still his favorite melody.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, and that little smile spreads across your lips again.

“Baby,” you say, and his heart clenches in his chest as you take his hand. “You wanna break my heart?”

#min yoongi x reader #btscreatorscorner #bangtanheadquarters #noonasinnetwork #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts imagine

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annaofthenorthernlights · 3 years

Text

It´s your life

Chapter 5

High and low

A short drop of a sweet Kristanna surprising trip (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Word counting: 2057

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Summary: That day had been great – no, it had been splendid! It had been a dream and she was wondering if she would even wake up again! But then, life can sometimes be cruel and switch within seconds... from high to low...

Anna plopped down onto the bed, sighing contentedly and simply happy.

That day had been great – no, it had been splendid! It had been a dream and she was wondering if she would even wake up again! Kristoff had laid down next to her. So, here they were again, like the evening before when they had arrived. Anna turned to face him, beaming with sparkling eyes, her hand on his chest. Kristoff reached out and covered her fingers with his own hand, glancing at her with a grin. He was exhausted, but her radiant smile sent a warm satisfaction through his mind and body.

“Okay, tonight is yours and you´ll set the program, or maybe NO program anymore for us?!” Anna giggled and rested her head on Kristoff shoulders. “You were amazing, and this day was just soooo… wonderful! I won´t ask anything from you on my behalf, believe me!”

“Hey feisty pants,” Kristoff stroked her hand and reassured her quietly, “honestly it was pretty fun for me, too. I swear – I must admit I got more intrigued than I had expected.” He mused over all the shows, exhibits, and the rides they had attended. Not to mention their participation in the parade. He would even think to feel sort of excited about another go the next day.

Anna chuckled next to him and fumbled for her mobile out of her jeans pocket. She pushed herself up on her elbow and started flipping through the taken pics of the day. She laughed and shook her head, when she´d just found the one she was looking for especially.

“I think we should enlarge this one and hang it framed in your kitchen.” She held it up for him to see. Kristoff grimaced and then brushed his hand over his face. “Yeah right, thanks – now I can´t get the picture out of my head anymore.”

He stood grinning broadly, standing enclosed by a oversized Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

All the while, Anna had pranced and laughed, taking that photo…

There were many more lovely pictures, mostly involving some gigantic plushie figures for which Anna couldn´t pass without hugging.

Now, she was tired – but happily tired.

*****

Hey Anna – hope you´re having a good time. Things are quiet here. Please let me know when you´re back home, okay? Enjoy!

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Kristoff to emerge from the bathroom, when Elsa´s message popped up on her screen. She wasn´t sure how to respond at all. Yes, she did enjoy herself immensely. But would Elsa understand? Should she inquire about “the quiet things”? She felt like in a dream and would love to last it at least to the moment when she had to face her grandfather…

Hi sis, thanks I´m overwhelmed with all. Will text you when I get home. Love x

She turned the mobile off and threw it on the bed, when just at that moment Kristoff´s phone started vibrating and buzzing on his nightstand. Startled for the moment, Anna leaned over to notice Sven´s contact shown on the screen. She reached for it before it hopped of the little table.

“Hey Sven!” Anna chirped into the phone. It was always good to have Kristoff´s best friend to talk to. For some reason he seemed to take Anna as his “best friend” along with Kristoff. He was so nice.

“Hey Anna! Sorry, to come at you guys on your romantic weekend. I wouldn´t intrude on you if there weren´t great news. I thought of leaving a note, but this is to amazing. Is Kris around?”

“Don´t apologise Sven! You know, you never disturb – at least not at this hour!” Anna laughed. “Hang on, Kristoff will be right there, just a second.” She held the mobile to her chest to turn, just when Kristoff came out, with his trousers on and shirt half buttoned up.

He sat down next to Anna and took the phone with one hand, trying to finish his buttoning with the other. Anna gave a hand to this task.

“Hey buddy, what´s up?”

“Hey Kris, sorry for the interruption – but I had to tell you personally. You would not believe what happened!”

Then Sven would tell his partner that they got the application confirmed to involve in a building complex construction of ten new family homes. That project announced, approx. 20 miles from their place. The builder of this developing family site project had been specific on choosing local companies to construct the houses. The competition should be a fair one with no oversized companies that dumped their prizes to get the most job calls.

“So, I´ve signed the pre-contract in the name of us both. We´re good in time if you can sign it yourself on Monday. So, enjoy the rest of your trip with the princess of the year, will ye?”

Silence.

“Kris, you´re still on?”

“He is!” Anna giggled into the phone. Kristoff had turned on the speakers and Anna had overheard it all. She was so excited about that news, that she had practically crawled onto Kristoff´s back, kneeling behind him and having laid her arms around his neck. She felt like steading him, as Kristoff sat in a stare, glaring down on the phone.

“I…. I…. I don´t believe it! We got ourselves in ´North-valley side´? That´s not some bad joke, is it?” By now, Kristoff had clasped a hand around Anna´s wrist, to make sure, he was not alone on this.

“No. Buddy. It´s true. Okay? We´ll be fine. And hey, I´m proud to be your partner! Now, please promise me, to take Anna to Dinner and treat yourselves with a good bottle of the best wine and lavish in your time that you have! Love you two!”

Kristoff swallowed hard. Sven was a true friend, had always been. He wondered if Sven knew that… but yes, that pal knew more than he sometimes showed…

“We will! Thank you, Sven. We love you, too!” Anna replied softly.

“Thanks buddy!” Kristoff whispered huskily.

Later at dinner, Honeymaren would take a picture with Anna´s mobile of them sitting together, close cheek to cheek, happily smiling with a good glass of red wine in their hands.

Anna enjoyed so much sending this pic to Sven! So much more, than the text message she had to send to her sister before…

*****

2 days later…

Anna sat on the couch, staring at what was left that would belong to her.

One box full of books and stationary for her studies. Two suitcases with her clothes. A travel bag with little this and that which she had bought from her own money. The little money that she had rightfully earned during her summer jobs at her family´s company.

There was no more left.

Elsa had just left, after she had helped Anna to sort out her few belongings.

“Call me, if you need anything”, she had said. But both knew, there was little range for Elsa to help. Their grandfather had been clear. Anna knew, Elsa wanted to help, to be there, to talk… But Anna had catapulted herself out of that realm. And she had signed that dreadful document.

Reflecting on those last few hours, she wondered if she had the courage and the wits to stick to her decision she had made.

She had faced her grandfather, while Elsa had to attend as witness in the room. He had sharply reminded her of their family tradition, of the many hard worked years of several generations to get their name where they were today. He had asked her if she were aware of how lucky Anna could call herself being born into such a secure nest. And if she truly decided to step out into “her life”, if she had a sense of what would await her?

Anna hadn´t denied this all. She had been privileged. Yes, all good work deserved respect and to be honoured. All good work, especially those who started from zero. By this she thought so much of Kristoff and Sven and their less fortunate backgrounds.

Runeard Rendelle then got at her with his deal. It had all been arranged by the solicitor that took care of the Rendelle´s private affairs. Anna could choose, either to stay with them and go along with their business, or she could leave on her wish. If the latter were the case, she would be denied her monthly support nor any dowry. Of course, Runeard would not be the monster that he seemed and the college fees that had been paid already, he would not withdraw. Not that he would be told to be ungratifying to his own offspring. He wished Anna to complete her final term and go through her exams with merit or not. But at least she would have the title that was worth her name. After that, it was up to her what to do.

Before she would say anything, he was giving her a last speech. Anna should consider the fact that in this world she would land nowhere without money. Her so called friends would soon get rid of her if she couldn´t show off her financial safety. He had sat across the mahogany desk, with a blank face and stated, “of course, it´s up to you, since it´s your life!”. He had emphasised on the last phrase and raised an eyebrow.

Elsa had sat all quiet, but the agony raging within her could be sensed through the room. She was so loyal and dutiful. Anna knew that and she would not blame her sister. But it would not work for her. She thought for an instant, but her mind went numb, her abdomen crinched and all she could think of was to make a fast exit out of this room.

“Thank you, Sir, for letting me finish my finals. I´ll do best I can, I promise. About my decision to follow your advice and this business… I can´t. You might not like my friends, especially Kristoff. But this doesn´t matter to me anymore, your world is not my world.”

After that, she signed the prepared document.

Therefore, Anna Rendelle denied all rights of heritage and support from her family side.

Should she decide to return into the Rendelle business, that´s when she was to withdraw from her former contacts that had been of bad influence upon her person. Then, she would be welcomed back into contract.

It had been disgusting…

She had underestimated the impact this disconnecting step would bestow upon her. Not that she wanted to go back. But then, where would she belong to from now on. Kristoff was on his way to pick her up, to take her home with him. To his home. There was no other place she could rather think of to feel mor home that with him. But she didn´t want to burden him with her scattered self. She had nothing to bring, nothing to offer him for support on rent or making for living for the moment. It would still be a few weeks till her finals and up then…

She felt sort of lost in space, dangling between two worlds. One, she didn´t want to return to and the other, that she didn´t mean to intrude…

Anna had not heard the knock on the front door and looked up weary when Kristoff stood in front of her, his head tilted, concern in his eyes. She would stand up slowly and gesture to her packed stuff.

“This is all. There´s not much left… I´ve nothing to bring, Kristoff… Nothing to offer you that makes me great catch to be taken home with. Will you still have me?” She had clenched her hands in front of her belly, pressing them to her middle, unsure of how to move on from this point. What if her grandfather might had been right and she would lose her friends – and most of all, her boyfriend – because she was stripped of all that wealth and financial backup?

Kristoff had barely noticeable shook his head, replying with a silent crooked smile and opening his arms for her to step closer, directly into his hold. He whispered some loving words into her hair, soothing words. Of course, he would take her home!

So Runeard Rendelle was wrong after all…

#Frozen #Fanfiction #Kristanna #surprise trip to Disneyland #step of change #decisions #true friendship #feelings....

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manga-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Interview with Makoto Yukimura, the Mangaka behind Vinland Saga

REALQ: What kind of child were you? Yukimura: I was a laid back kid, who took a very, very long time to come to a decision. I'd be late to dinner because I was thinking about something or other. Once, while I was alternately touching the right and left eyes of a snail, I became aware that night had fallen. I wondered why my group of friends were always in such a hurry. I would focus on something and lose the ability to tell if time was passing quickly or slowly.

REALQ: When did you first encounter manga? Yukimura: I was five-years-old and the manga was Akira Toriyama's Dr. Slump. I remember thinking the cover art was cool. When I was little, I used to think that the cover art and the story inside were drawn by different people. [Laughs] But I watched the Dr. Slump anime before I read the manga. Later, someone told me that there was a manga that the anime was based on and I found the weekly magazine where it was serialized. In the beginning, I was dubious. I didn't see why there needed to be both a manga and an anime. Like, why do the same thing twice? How-ever, after I saw them both it made sense because each had its own idiosyncracies. REALQ: Did your parents say anything to you about reading manga? Yukimura: No, they never said anything. They came from a generation who said reading manga made you an idiot, but they didn't say any-thing. They didn't say anything when I told them at 16 that I wanted to draw manga, either.

REALQ: Was there anything that your parents, siblings, or people around you would say to you often?

Yukimura: There certainly must have been various things, but I don't remember because I was probably concentrating on something else at the time and didn't hear them. However, one thing I do remember is being told to watch out for cars. Like, at the very least, try not to die. [Laughs] Nevertheless, I really did get into a traffic accident. Once, on my way to the park to play with my friends, I ran out into the street and got hit on the side by a sedan. I rolled over the top of the car—the hood, wind-shield, top, rear window, then the trunk. Strangely, I wasn't seriously injured and played in the park afterwards. Actually, there was also another incident. My sister and I were riding together in a car. It was just the two of us and as we were going down a hill, a car suddenly appeared and we hit its side. I was sitting in the backseat and was launched forward like a catapult. My sister was so surprised she called out, "Mako, you're flying!" Strangely, I wasn't injured that time either, and we decided not to tell our mother. [Laughs] REALQ: Did your way of thinking change after the accident? Yukimura: I think that if it did change, I wasn't conscious of it. Despite being a near-death experience, it was a miracle I wasn't injured. My mother getting angry at me afterward was more frightening. [Laughs] In terms of my "way of thinking," I'm a little different. Like something in me is lacking. It's often the case that for some reason I don't fully comprehend a conversation even if I'm really trying to concentrate on what the other person is saying. What's the reason? If I'm honest about it, it's because I'll start thinking about something else, even if it's just for a moment. REALQ: Did you also have trouble paying attention during class at school? Yukimura: Yeah. Especially classes that didn't interest me. I continued to have this problem in high school, where I'd often be sitting in class and before I realized it, the bell would ring. However, my notebook would have stuff drawn in it...manga. REALQ: Didn't teachers or friends say anything?

Yukimura: In high school, I didn't have much of a social life, so nobody said anything. I went to reasonably academic schools [REALQ Editor's note: Yukimura graduated from Chuo University and Suginami High School] and my peers studied quite hard. The feeling that I was so different from most of the people around me had a big effect on me. I didn't fit in. I lived in my own world.

REALQ: Did student life give you anxiety? Yukimura: Anxiety was the only thing I really felt. In a way, isn't school a microcosm for society? Despite it being a microcosm, there's this feeling of being left behind. That made me really anxious and sad. But as a result of suffering in this way, I realized that society existed out-side of this microcosm—a kind of society that I had never experienced inside the microcosm of school.

REALQ :What lead you to have this epiphany? Yukimura: It occurred to me out of the blue one day when I was feeling totally devastated. I was 16. One autumn day after school I thought to myself, "I'll finish high school because if I don't, it will make my parents sad. But participating in a society reflected in this kind of microcosm will be impossible." It was just like that moment when a cup is filled to the brim with water and suddenly the surface tension breaks and it overflows. However, thinking this made me feel better. Until that point, the "ruler" for determining success since the first year of high school had been getting good grades, getting into a good college, and then finding a job with a good company. This ruler contained within it a system of values for how one should live their life. When I decided that this was not the ruler I wanted to use to measure my own life, things became a lot easier for me. I used to get burnt out worrying so much about getting decent enough grades that would allow me to get into university. Like, "please let me just graduate!" Realizing that there was another way to live was a lifesaver.

Of course, I think it made my parents nervous. In that era, there was still a deeply rooted notion that one's academic background was im-portant and working for a good company made you a good person. Back then, this was like saying, "Your child is the type of kid who won't find their way in the world." It was like throwing away the most important ruler and replacing it with a new ruler that was a little bent and covered with indecipherable markings. [Laughs] REALQ: Was there anyone from your high school days who had an influence on you? Yukimura: A teacher who taught classical literature. He was apparently a teacher with quite bizarre interpretations of the material. More than anything else, what left the greatest impression on me was when he used class time to talk about how wonderful Michael Ende was [REALQ Editor's note: a German writer of children's fiction]. He introduced me to The Never Ending Story. Once I knew about Michael Ende, he became an influence on me. It was the first book I knew of in which someone wrote a book because he had a sense of obligation and a goal in relation to society and the world. I thought that someone who wrote a book because he felt that it was something he had to do was a rather beautiful thing to wish for. REALQ: Next up... Yukimura discusses the connection between himself and Thorfinn Karlsefni, the protagonist of his Vinland Saga. Is there anything that makes you hesitate when you draw your manuscripts?

Yukimura: For characters, it's probably the hands. Hands take time to do well. The strength of a character's grip on a sword, for example. Male and female hands are hard to differentiate, too. Hands are the most expressive part of a character, after the face.

I've heard that you can tell a person's personality from their hands, so I always look at them. [Laughs] You can fake a facial expression, but your hands will show how hard you work or how hard you don't. If you show the character's life in their hands, you'll get a good result. REALQ: When did you start paying attention to how you drew hands? Yukimura: Since I was young. But I still find it difficult now. When I look at the work of other manga artists, sometimes the faces are well drawn, but the hands are not. To put it bluntly, if I were to choose among artists, I would choose them by how they draw their hands. REALQ: Is there anyone whose work you reference? Yukimura: I'm especially influenced by artists with high amounts of realism. When it comes to hands, it's gotta be Katsuhiro Otomo.

It's not just his hands, though. It's everything. [Laughs]

Also, the young, up-and-coming artists are all quite good. Their hands are pretty, but you can see the structure clearly as well. REALQ: Any thoughts on these hands? [While looking at Sigurd's hands in the manuscript] Yukimura: Yes. These hands are drawn fairly well. In Sigurd's case, de-spite the muscularity, his hands are not rough. That's because he has his underlings do the tough work. In Thorfinn's case, he has many small cuts, and there is more cracked and peeling skin.

REALQ: Are there any scenes in Vinland Saga strongly influenced by your own experience? Yukimura: When Thorfinn is on his knees, apologizing. [Laughs] The part where he says, "Please. I won't ask you to forgive me, but allow me to live a bit longer." I've been drawing manga for 20 years. There's always a shadow of guilt that hangs over me. I'm sorry for being so selfish. So, I feel I have to, at the very least, draw something that readers will love... I'm nothing without that. Thorfinn is a young viking from medieval Europe. Since his teens, he's pillaged, fought in wars, and done many other terrible things. His feelings change as he grows, and he starts to feel guilt for his past actions. The ghosts of those he killed appears in his dreams, and he is ravaged by nightmares. I am only here today because of the care of those around me. I am truly thankful. If anything about Thorfinn comes from my experiences, it has to be this. In his current state, the protagonist has no right to convict anyone else. No matter what kind of scoundrel he meets, Thorfinn always feels that he has done something worse in the past. I think it's good this way.

REALQ: Did you know from the beginning that Thorfinn would become the way he did? Yukimura: Yeah. The story began with the premise that the protagonist is fated to have done many terrible things. He goes from being the oppressor to being the oppressed, and in doing so, he learns many things and becomes an adult. He then departs, saying, "I will go to a new land beyond the sea and build a peaceful country." That is an escape from the values that dominated European society. They do not feel that it is bad to wage war and plunder other countries. And, although their opponents are human beings, they believe they have the right to make the weak into slaves and kill them if they need be. In the society of that time, such things were seen as good things. Thorfinn experiences—and hates—both. But he is powerless to change the system... So he decides to leave. There will be terrible bloodshed if he decides to change the world. So he leaves it to Canute. Because Canute has the power and the shorter path. "I am different," he says. "I will live in a different way." When I put it into words, it seems like a lot of what I think is reflected in my work. [Laughs]

REALQ: From your childhood experiences and your writing process, I get the feeling you are a perfectionist who doesn't com-promise when it comes to goals or ideals. Do the people around you feel the same way?

Yukimura: I think I am a perfectionist. In the past, my seniors and teachers would say, "If 100 points is amazing work and 0 points is nothing, it's easy to get to 80 points. However, each point beyond that is incredibly difficult. Past 90, it's so rough that you'll start spitting blood. And nobody gets to 100." I don't know if, by absolute standards, my work is at 80 points. But, for my own standards, I care a lot about each of those 1 or 2 points beyond 80. I care so much that others see the changes I make and say, "He pushed back the deadline for this? What's changed?" [Laughs] I've even rewritten an entire manuscript before. REALQ: Is it really rough when you have to throw out a whole manuscript? Yukimura: It's sad that to know the work won't produce results, but the worst possible thing for me is to feel regret afterwards. If I can choose to suffer for a brief moment as I draw, then I'll do it. The regrets afterward stay around much longer... REALQ: Are you happy about the reactions of your overseas readers? Yukimura: Yeah. It's encouraging to know they like my work. Especially when I heard some of them were reading Vinland Saga side-by-side with a dictionary. I forgot which language they were translating from and into, though. [Laughs]

REALQ: Let me change the subject: Advice from adults to children... Do you think it's important to emphasize the importance of having dreams? Should we tell kids to have dreams and tell them their dreams will come true? Yukimura: I used to think dreams were just desires. However, I was a good-for-nothing back then, so I think I was being resentful. [Laughs] At the very least, I don't think doing whatever you want to do is a beautiful thing. That's just you doing what you want to do. The truly beautiful things are helping others, volunteering, things like that... Finding a home for a stray dog, or doing things that no other person wants to do—that's beautiful. This includes me, but to do what you want to do is simply selfishness. I received my role in society, but I couldn't carry it out. I wasn't a modest enough person for that. I said such things because I thought I would do what I wanted to do no matter what other people said to me. It's the same for everyone, I think. Those who do what they want and succeed are simply the ones who ended up with a place in society. It's a miracle. After all, what some people want is to carry out meaningless terrorism... But it's the same thing. Both are "dreams." REALQ: If you could give an hour of advice to your younger self, what would you say? Yukimura: I'd say, reflexively, to be 3 times as careful of oncoming traffic. [Laughs] More seriously, I'd say, "You're worried that you're inferior to others. But don't worry." I'd tell myself that there isn't only one ruler to mea-sure yourself by. "Humans come in all sorts," I'd say. "There's not a single number line that we all stand on." Text by Shuta Miura

#Vinland Saga #Makoto Yukimura #behind the scenes #Interview #Manga and Stuff #Manga Cap #Manga #Art

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years

Text

The Sundrop Alchemist (20)

Guys, it’s almost over! This chapter is the end of the story, but I have the epilogue in mind, with something special happening. Stay tuned and thank you for sticking up with me for so long.

Summary: Even with his magical hair cut, Varian desperately tries to save his dying friend. When the miracle happens, it's time for the boy to finally go back home.

TW: major character death (not permanent)

AO3 link is here

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Chapter 20: Homecoming

The sudden loss of weight was the first thing that Varian registered. His blue eyes widened in realisation and his one hand moved instinctively to his long hair. Gone. They were gone. His hand hovered in the air, where just moments ago his locks could be found.

He could hear Mother screaming, desperately singing his song. He heard her suddenly stop, her heels taking rushed steps back, before she screamed, her voice falling before ceasing completely. He didn’t react to it in any way, his thoughts on something else entirely.

His hair was gone. And if his hair was gone, so was-

“No, Hugo! Why did you do that?” He cried, grabbing the barely conscious teen in his hold, blue eyes filling with tears. “I can’t- I can’t heal you!”

“Don’t worry, Goggles.” Hugo smiled and Varian felt his heart squeeze in pain. How could he smile in a time like this? “Now… you’re finally… free.” The teen said, each word coming out quieter than the previous.

“Nonononononono! It can’t end like this! You can’t die!” Varian cried, cradling the other in his arms. “You- you can’t leave me! Please!”

“You’ll be… fine…” Hugo reached out one hand and gently cupped the boy’s cheek, wiping the tear that was trailing down his face. “You’ve… always… been…”

“No! Hugo!” The now-raven-haired boy whimpered. “I can’t… I can’t do it without you.”

“Of course… you can… Sweetcheeks.” The bespectacled teen whispered with a smile.

“No! You… you were the one to free me, Hugo. You have to take responsibility for that.” He was openly crying now, not even wiping the tears away.

“Varian…” Hugo said and the boy startled. That was the first time the other called him by his name, and not some nickname (not counting this one time he threatened the teen with the frying pan).

“No…” Spasms of crying shook Varian’s body, as he hugged the teen closer. “Please…”

“I’m glad I met you…” The bespectacled teen whispered. His chest lowered and didn’t rise, the hand cupping the younger boy’s cheek falling limply next to his body.

“No!” Varian wailed, bringing the now-limp body close. “No!”

He wiped some hair from the teens face, his vision blurry.

“F-flower glim a-and glow,

Le-let your p-power sh-shine…” He sang in a trembling voice, but nothing happened. There was no usual glow. No soothing energy flowing through his hair. “M-make the clock re-reverse,

Bring back wh-what once was-was mine…”

Varian’s voice cracked completely. He heard a silent wail, Ruddiger limping his way towards the boy. At least the raccoon was okay. But Hugo was-

Another wave of tears shook his frame, dumping the teen’s shirt, falling on the wound. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, because Hugo was already-

Suddenly, from behind closed eyelids, Varian noticed a soft glow. Surprised, he opened his eyes and stared at, what he could only call, a miracle. Gold tendrils rose from Hugo’s chest, cradling around his body, growing and shaping, impersonating a flower. Varian gazed at all this with eyes widened, not truly understanding what was going on. He could even hear a soothing melody, the same one he sang just moments ago. Then, the glow dimmed and everything was silent again. Just as if nothing happened. And then…

Hugo breathed! The teen’s chest rose and he took a deep breath, eyes opening wide and looking around startled. Varian didn’t spare a moment, arms wrapping about his revived friend.

“Hugo! You’re alive!” He cried, a watery laugh escaping his lips. “I- you’re alive!”

“Var- What?” Hugo was shock-struck, his mind not comprehending what has just happened. He died, he was sure he did. And yet, he was alive. “But how?”

“I don’t know!” Varian laughed in response, hugging the teen closer. “I-I tried the incantation but my magic was gone. It didn’t work. But then… it did!”

“This is insane.” Hugo muttered and Varian unwrapped his hands from around the blonde, smiling genuinely.

“I’m glad you’re back, Hugo.” He said, his smile brightening the dark room. It was contagious, and Hugo had no choice but to smile back.

“So am I, Goggles. So am I.” He replied, hugging the younger and laughing. “By the Sun, this was one crazy week, wasn’t it?”

“It sure was.” Varian laughed too. “No one’s going to believe us.”

“Goggles, I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t there.” The bespectacled teen exclaimed and they both laughed.

After some time, they finally let go of each other and Hugo took a look around the room, noticing the long strands of now-black hair laying on the floor. Varian’s hair was black, too, reaching the middle of his neck now.

“Sorry about your hair.” Hugo scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It was the first thing that came to my mind.”

Varian’s hand reached to his hair, again noticing how short they were now. He smiled and shook his head.

“I’ve always wanted a haircut anyway.” He grinned and Hugo chuckled.

“Guess I can’t call you Blondie anymore, huh?” He teased and bumped the boy’s shoulder playfully. “How about Raven-head?”

Varian made a face at the nickname and Hugo burst out laughing.

“I’m only teasing. I guess I’ll stick to Goggles.” He brushed the other’s hair playfully and Varian knocked his hand away.

“Or you could just call me by my name.” The raven-haired boy pouted and Hugo shot him a playful grin.

“What’s the fun in that?” He asked and laughed even harder when Varian reached out for his frying pan and started chasing him around the room.

Or, at least, tried to, but the being used to the weight of his hair, now gone, his balance felt off and he would have fell to the floor if it wasn’t for Hugo’s quick reflexes.

“Woah, that’s new.” Varian commented as Hugo helped him stand up.

“You’ll get used to it.” The blonde shrugged and stared at the boy with a serious face. “So… where to now?”

Varian looked at Hugo, then at Ruddiger sitting nearby. His gaze moved around the room he knew all his life and finally set on the world outside.

“Home.” He said with certainty and smiled widely.

~~~~~~

It took them one hour to finally leave the tower, with Varian grabbing all his alchemical equipment, various chemicals and notebooks he didn’t want to leave behind. Hugo helped him pack everything, using the travel bags Gothel was using before. Of course, Varian also made sure to take his frying pan, claiming it served perfectly as a weapon against thugs and ruffians. Hugo didn’t bother to argue, seeing first-hand how useful it truly was.

Then, they left, using the secret staircase leading to the bottom of the tower. Hugo tied the bags to the horse, Varian taking a last look at the place he called home for so many years.

“It feels weird to leave, you know?” He said, his back to Hugo, still facing the tower. “For so long this place felt like home to me. And even now… I know I’ll miss it.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s going anywhere, Goggles. You could probably come for a visit, from time to time.” Hugo replied, having straddled the bags and approached the boy. “But frankly, I would gladly forget this place even exists.”

“Yeah…” Varian said quietly, his eyes lingering on the window at the top, his only view on the outside world for years. He took a deep breath and casted one last look at the tower before turning around. “Let’s go.”

The road to Old Corona was spent with Hugo retelling everything that happened to him since he left Varian on that forest clearing to meet with the Stabbingtons. The boy listened closely, one hand petting Ruddiger, glad for the distraction from the thoughts lingering at the back of his mind. He laughed at how Hugo explained his escape from the prison, being catapulted over the wall by Vladimir.

Finally, the familiar village came into view and Varian felt his heart quicken in his chest. He gripped the reins tighter, afraid of what might happen. Hugo noticed the raven-haired boy tense and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine, Goggles.” He said encouragingly.

“But Hugo, what if I’m wrong? What if I’m not the lost son?” Varian spoke up, tensing even more. “Or worse, what if I am, but they won’t recognise me? Or think I’m a fraud. The baby had blonde hair. Mine are black now. And there is no way they are just going to believe they turned that way because you cut it. It sounds ridiculous and-”

“Hey, Goggles. Deep breaths. You’re hyperventilating.” Hugo said. “Relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?” The boy turned his head to look at the teen sitting behind him.

“I don’t.” Hugo shrugged. “But I believe it anyway. And besides.” He flashed him a grin. “If they don’t recognise you, we can just leave together, you know? Travel the world, see places…”

Varian smiled slightly and nodded, but his stomach still was tangled in anxiety. Soon, they arrived at the village leader’s house and Hugo helped him get down from the horse. He stood there awkwardly, staring at the house looking almost like a smaller version of the castle. It was intimidating, and Varian felt himself starting to tremble.

“So.. you’re just going to stand there or finally go and knock?” Hugo asked, pointing towards the door.

Varian gulped and ascended the several steps leading to the door, his hand lingering in the air. He thought again to what he told Hugo. What if he was wrong? What if he wasn’t their son? Or he was and they won’t recognise him? What if-

His train of thoughts was cut off by the sound of knocking. He startled, seeing Hugo standing next to him, grinning, his hand just leaving the wood.

“Hugo, what-?” He hissed and then heard a male voice calling from the inside, telling them to wait a moment.

Panic overwhelming him, Varian turned on his heel, ready to run, only to be stopped by a hand gripping his collar.

“Come on, Goggles. Get on with-” Hugo stopped when the door opened and they both stared up at the large man standing in the doorway.

The man was huge, his broad shoulders taking up the whole doorframe. He had dark hair and brown eyes. He stared down at the two, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I help you?” He asked and Varian suddenly found himself unable to speak, intimidated by the man. Hugo shot a glance at the younger boy and sighed, seeing he’d have to be the one to explain things himself.

“Hello there. You’re Quirin, the leader of Old Corona, right?” He asked, putting up his signature smile, trying to sound confident.

“Yes, what of it?” The man replied and Hugo shot one more glance at the shaking boy next to him.

“You see, the thing is-” Hugo was suddenly cut off by another voice, this time female, coming from the house.

“Darling, who are you talking to?”

The man looked at the two before turning his head to look at the woman inside.

“Two boys. I don’t know what they want yet.” He said and Hugo rolled his eyes at the word. He was fifteen, almost sixteen. He wasn’t a boy anymore.

“Boys?” The voice sounded louder this time and the woman came into view, standing next to her husband.

She had long ginger hair, her face was filled with freckles, eyes the familiar blue colour. She looked at the two of them and smiled gently.

“Can we help you?” She asked, her gaze lingering a little longer on Varian.

Hugo bumped the raven-haired boy, nudging him to finally speak. Varian coughed awkwardly and grabbed his arm, standing there nervously.

“Um… so… the thing is…” His blue eyes shot a desperate look at Hugo who just gave him a motion to continue. The alchemist inhaled deeply and made a short eye contact with the two adults before quickly looking away. “IthinkIamyourson.” He shot out.

Quirin and his wife exchanged a surprised glance. Hugo facepalmed.

“Our… son?” The woman repeated and Varian’s cheeks burned red.

“I’m sorry, you probably think I’m crazy. There is no way I am your son. After all, your son had blonde hair and mine is black. Nevermindtheywereblondjustfew

hoursagobutwehadtocutthemtoescapethecrazyladywhoposedasmymotherforyearsandtheyturnedblackafterwards- I’ll go now!” Varian blurred out and turned to leave, the two adults staring at him with shock.

“Wait!” The woman called suddenly and ran up several steps to catch up to the boy. He turned surprised and she looked at him again, as if scanning him. “What is your name, boy?”

“V-Varian.” He replied.

The woman gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. Tears appeared in her eyes and she lunged at him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“My baby.” She cried and Varian went shock-still. He stared up at the man still standing at the door, his eyes foggy. He smiled gently and descended, joining the hugl.

“We thought we would never see you again.” He said quietly, and Varian felt himself tearing up as well. He buried his head in the man’s chest, smiling happily.

“I’m home.” He whispered.

#varian #hugo #ruddiger #quirin #ulla #the sundrop alchemist #the happy ending #only epilogue left #tw: major character death #(not permanent)#kitty mom writes

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nightspeckle · 4 years

Text

High School Au {Part 3}

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

this one is like sorta long-ish? (for me lol, in actuality its like super short) and it’s trash so my b

******

Here’s the thing. Working with Cardan was actually pretty good. I never thought I would ever think that and yet here I am. I’m pretty sure my delusions are growing but that's not really the point.

The point is that the kid knows his shit. I mean really knows his shit.

Noggle gave us Scipio Africanus’ Tactics which was an adventure in itself. Cardan had just looked at me with a toned-down version of his death stare and asked me if we wanted to break up the work.

It was that simple. We made a combined slideshow that took about 20 minutes in total with each of us splitting the research. I was looking over the slides and when I got to his I think my brain imploded.

They were extremely detailed, more so even than mine and he had been on his phone half of the time. I mean even the sentences sounded smart. He used the word consternation. I mean what does that even mean? Not that I was about to ask.

Noggle basically pushed us out early when he saw how good our slides were considering this was just a club and so he shoved us out with a big smile.

So in all working with Cardan wasn’t terrible. I barely even noticed how clear his skin looked from close up! So progress for me.

But now as we currently exit out the east side doors to the parking lot I can’t help but notice how he seems to glow in the sunlight. Or the fact that something about him just feels ethereal at this moment.

So I book it. Walking as fast as I possibly can to the back of the parking lot.

I’m so focused and hightailing it away from the beauty that is Cardan that I don’t realize anything is amiss until I’m standing in an empty parking spot.

I do a little 360 standing in the place where the car is supposed to be.

Fuck.

I should be surprised, or even concerned that my car is missing. But I’m not.

Three sisters and two cars is not a perfect equation. I check my phone to see if I missed anything in the group chat.

Viv: I’m taking Carol to work

Taryn: I thought we agreed on Joan?

Vivi Yeah but saying I’m taking Joan makes me feel like a 40 year old mom who drives a minivan

Taryn: And Carol doesn't give you the same vibes?

Viv: Nah, Crackhead Carol is wildddddd

Taryn: I hate you.

Taryn: I’m taking Olie to the mall, Jude can you catch the bus?

Viv: I can not believe that you give me shit for Carol and then named our beautiful baby after Oliver Wood.

Taryn: Excuse me? Oliver Wood is the god of the century

Viv: Bitch can't beat Luna

Taryn: You would

Taryn: Do we think Jude will even see this or am I gonna have to go back to pick her up

Viv: She’s probably to busy dreaming nasty thoughts about her ghosty boy and his little ghost

Taryn: Let's not start on this again pls

Viv: I’ll be home at 9 don’t die in the meantime xx

First of all, Shit.

Second, I’m going to strangle Vivi with my bare hands. Garrett and I are friends and it's actually starting to piss me off.

Third, how the fuck do they expect me to get Oak with no car? Fucking idiots.

Jude: Which one of you dumbos is gonna get Oak?

Viv: Workingggggggg

Taryn: I’m 45 minutes away... so like u

Jude: I am wishing death upon your souls :)

I look at my watch to see It’s already three. Shit.

What am I going to do? Walk? I can’t call Orianna or Dad. I am not in the mood to face Oriannas snarky comments or Dad’s lectures about responsibility.

So that leaves walking. Or more like running. I am so going to be late.

But as I’m dashing across the parking lot I almost get run over by a black Porsche Cayenne.

Which p.s. is one sexy ass car.

Usually, I might stop to give the driver an earful about how running over pedestrians is not the vibe. But I have 15 minutes to get to Oak’s school which is like 20 minutes on foot.

I start walking again when I hear the car's window roll down and a voice from the driver's seat.

It’s Cardan.

Of course.

I’m waiting for a comment about idiotically walking behind moving cars but it doesn’t come. Or for him to unleash the snide comments he has been holding back all afternoon. However, what does come out is even worse.

“Do you need a ride?”

....

I’m staring at him through his open window. I’m about two feet from the driver's door and Cardan is tapping his fingers methodically on the door.

He doesn’t look very menacing. His eyes are flickering over my face and he raises an eyebrow up at me.

“Well?” He asks probingly. I’m all too aware of what this means. The dude who terrorized my childhood is reaching out an olive branch.

There’s a part of me that wants to turn and walk away from his cruel glares and the comments he used to spit at me and Taryn. But I really could use a ride.

Plus, he looks extremely hot with one of his hands on the wheel which is like an added bonus.

“Yeah, I do.” He seems a little surprised that I said yes. I watch as a small smirk graces his face. Damn.

He nods his head to the passenger side and I walk around the car and slide into the seat. Just FYI these seats are comfortable as shit.

I look over at Cardan as he starts to back up. Which is a terrible idea. He looks so laid back and comfortable. He looks like he fits here and his face is blank of that awful sneer he seems to have on every day at school.

It makes me despise him a little less. I should have walked.

“Can you drop me off at Elfame Elementary?”

He looks over at me quizically. “Yeah.” A pause. “Why do you need to go there?”

“I need to pick up my little brother,”.

“Is that why you were running around the parking lot like a headless chicken?”. He looks amused as he says this.

“I was not running around like a headless chicken.” My voice is a little cold as I speak. His face goes a little more stonelike at my tone.

Jude! Wtf, this guy is giving you a ride. Pull it together!

“My sisters took the cars and left me stranded,” I attempt a little more warmly. “So thank you.”

His face twists a little surprised at the thank you. Mind kind of does too. Me saying thank you to the kid who poured milk all over me on picture day for years throughout elementary school.

Cardan doesn’t say anything else as we drive to Oak’s school. He just turns on some music and drives. It’s actually kind of nice being able to watch the vibrant green trees go zooming by.

Before I know it Cardan is pulling into the parking lot of the elementary school.

A little bit of me is disappointed it's over so soon. I actually feel a little peaceful.

I look down at my watch to see it’s 3:10. Perfect!

“Thanks, Cardan, truly this was life-saving,” I reach over to the handle about to push the door open when I look back to see an expression on Cardan's face that matches my own.

“How are you going to get home after?” Cardan’s voice is soft as he asks.

“I was going to walk to Ralph’s, Viv has one of the cars with her,”.

“That's like a mile away,” Cardan says laughing a little as he does.

“Don’t really have any other options here buddy,”

“Buddy?” He looks offended. As if the word is a personal assault to his well being. I can’t help but roll my eyes. To which he notices and roll’s his eyes back at me.

“I can drive you and your brother home. If you want?”.

Yes. I do want. But I’m not really in the mood to owe Cardan anything and this feels like a favor a little too out of his way. Why is he helping me out?

So no?

But I’m also not in the mood for the complaining Oak will give me for walking in this sweltering heat.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Then I shut the door and head into the school.

....

Oak is looking up at me with a puzzled look on his face.

“I thought Viv was going to get me today?”

“Sorry, bud. She had to work.” He just shrugs. “Does that mean shell bring me back a milkshake!” He’s popping up on his toes almost jumping in joy. I just stifle a laugh and shake his hair up.

“Where did you park Olie?” Oak is looking around quizically trying to spot the black jeep named after the quidditch legend himself. When he cant spot Ollie Oak turns to look at me with a full face of disappointment. “Did you drive Crackhead Carol?”

The dad who walks by as he gives me a wide eyed look before shuffling his kids along in the opposite direction. I can’t help roll my eyes even though Vivi isn’t even here.

Oak is still looking at me in despair. He hates Crackhead Carol. Says that it’s scary driving in it. Which is not true. The only reason he hates Carol is that every time he’s in Carol is when Vivi is driving. Which is an experience to drive any person to full body fear.

“I did not drive Carol.” Oak’s shoulders un-tense and he goes back to bouncing as we make our way past the busses and smiling bus monitors to the parking lot.

“So how did you get here?”

“Oak, chill out we’re not walking to Ralph's,” I say still heading to where Cardan parked his car.

Oak just stops halfway through the parking lot with his hands on his hips demanding an explanation. As much as he is trying to be serious he just looks adorable.

“I’ll give you a piggyback if you stop being an annoying little butt.” He just smiles and catapults onto my back. I don’t often offer to give Oak piggybacks any more. He’s gotten heavier as he's grown. Plus sometimes he thinks he's too old and cool for them. I guess today is not one of those days.

When I get back to Cardan’s car I can see he has an amused smile as he watches my cart around my lanky 7 year old brother.

Oak looks at me with wide eyes as I buckle him up in the back and plop down in the passenger seat. Cardan has turned off the rap he was playing early and switched it to that teeny bob that I despise but Taryn loves.

I look over to see that not only is the amused look on his lips but also in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything and instead just pulls out of the parking lot.

Oak who has been unusually quiet finally opens his mouth.

“Are you Jude’s boyfriend?” Oh my god.

“Oak!” My face has most certainly paled to the color of ice. Cardan looks at first like he might throw up with the thought but then he starts laughing.

And damn is that a nice sight. His sharp features are relaxed and full of laughter.

“Jude’s never had a boyfriend before.” Oak pauses for a second before continuing. “Actually she had one boyfriend but now he’s Taryn’s boyfriend so that doesn’t really count.”

I think I might strangle Oak. I look over at Cardan who seems to have gone a little rigid with this turn of the conversation. Having Cardan sit here with my brother telling him about my relationship disasters is embarrassing.

I mean, of course, he already knows this. He’s friends with Locke. But still, something about this is bugging me.

“Oak,” My voice is diminished when I speak. I’m looking out the window forcing the feelings I've been fighting for months to go away. Taryn and I worked things out. We always do. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting sometimes.

That's when I feel a strong nimble hand grab mine. I look over to Cardan as he drives. His eyes are focused on the road as he squeezes my hand.

I think my heart is going to melt.

But then I think I’m going to attack him. I remember seeing Nicasia laugh along with Valerian and Locke. Who’s to say he didn’t poke fun of the fool I was. I bet he’s only doing this now to go laugh at what an idiot I am later with all of his cronies.

But then he catches my eyes and he seems genuinely sad for me so I don’t attack him. But I do pull my hand from his and look back out the window. I don’t care if he’s been nice today. That does not exclude the years of name-calling. Of making me and Taryn feel small. Of how he glared at me at the party. What the fuck changed so quickly?

Oak is apparently not done talking. As usual. “Only Heather and Locke drive me places too. They're both my sister's boyfriend and girlfriend.” That makes me turn around.

“Cardan is not my boyfriend.” My voice is firm as I speak.

I look over to see a little bit of anger on his face. He has both hands on the wheel. No aimless tapping or anything. He looks over with that cold glare he gave me at the party.

Great! He’s mad because I pulled my hand from his. What an arrogant bastard.

....

When we finally get home Oak jumps out of the car running to the door. Something about Fixer Upper being on. What an odd kid.

Oak’s gone before I can even open the door leaving me and Cardan alone.

He’s staring dead out the window not even bothering to look at me. Which is fucking annoying. This dude needs to get a grip on his mood swings. I’m irritated enough to the point where I have to say something.

“Why the fuck were you being so tolerable early? You're usually pretty shitty to me. So whats up? What's with the bits of decency all of the sudden. You hate me. What's going on here?”

He turns his head to meet me eye to eye. His lips are sent in such a hard line I don’t think I’m going to get an answer.

“I do not hate you.”

“No? What about that time you called me and Taryn lowlife orphans who were less important than the dirt on your shoe? Or when you would steal my lunch money every day? Or that time you tripped me at elementary school graduation? I broke my ankle.” I’m seething. My whole body hot with anger.

He just sits there. Stone cold as ice.

“I was a child.” It's icy. Dismissive. As if the pent up anger, the feelings I had that I didn’t belong where nothing.

“Fine. What about Friday night? That lovely moment when you basically kicked me out of that party? Omg, what about when I started dating Locke and you called me a filthy slut! That was a fun one.”

He’s staring at me with a hard unrelenting stare.

I can not believe I started to think he wasn’t such an asshole. Just listening to myself speak I realize how dumb I am. I’m too pissed at the feelings that have been in that dark space next to my heart to even wait for his answer.

I’m curious sure. But I’m done. I’ve put up with this shit for too long.

I’m storming out of the car. Slamming the door to his precious car as hard as I can.

“Jude.” His voice is hard. Commanding. I feel like smacking him into next week.

I turn to see him standing out of his door arms crossed defensively. I can't help but match his stance. He’s only 3 ft away and I feel the urge to run as far as I can.

“I don’t hate you.” He’s spitting the words out now full of force.

“You looked hot as fuck Friday night,”. What? “And that pissed me the fuck off because I like you.”

What the fuck.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Oh my god. “And I hate that.”

He takes a pause, “I despise you for it.”

I’m frozen in place. Just staring at this asshole who had the nerve to tell me he likes me? After the torment, he inflicted on me as a kid. After the name-calling and the glares and the...

My entire brain freezes as he tugs me into his chest. Hard.

Because now he's kissing me. And damn is he a good kisser.

He has a hand tangled in my hair and the other one is keeping me pinned to him. I’m a stone statue for a whole 3 seconds before I acknowledge what is happening. But then I can’t stop myself as my arms wrap around his body and I'm pushing into him as much as I can.

He’s turning us around backing me up to his car door. The kisses becoming hungrier, needier. His hands have moved down to my ass. Holding me as close to him as possible. I can’t stop the roving my hands are doing. Finding their way to that sweet soft black hair.

I can’t let go. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this. What it feels like to not have a single space between us. What it feels like for Cardan's hand to be intertwined with my hair, pulling me into him.

“See I told you Jude had a boyfriend!”.

I hate my life.

~~~

My one tag hehe:

@fireheartbuzzard

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laiqart · 4 years

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The Untamed vs MDZS Anime: Which is better?

Going to japan now. Currently in the plane. The in flight tv is broken. So... ive been watching mdzs on youtube!

Hot damn the animation is beautiful. Every frame is a work of art. How the hell. Its so beautiful. I mean they use 3D a lot for the backgrounds and boats but its still gorgeous and not too jarring. The lighting is so realistic, scenery too. All the fighting choreography is beautiful. The way the swords swing in the air looks so fluid, and when swords clash its in flashes of light the color of their sword. Such a tasteful yet stylistic choice. Everyone's, esp wwx, hair is so flowy, so detailed every strand sways in the wind. The waves reflect light and move smoothly. How the hell did they do that. How. I was thinking of doing those screencap redraw thingy with the scene when wwx whacks lwj's boat. (they also emphasised how far lwj's boat was sinking into the water, which makes it more convincing how wwx can deduce that theres something underneath vs the live action where lwj's boat looked normal..) it was damn beautiful. The thing is, the point of these redraws is that the animation looks simple, so the redraw would enhance the scene. But for mdzs, everything is already in peak quality, redrawing it will only look worse. Its like writing fanfiction of books. The original writing is so damn beautiful, fan fiction ends up being such a stark difference that the reader cant help but compare the 2.

Drama, as everyone says, shows better facial expressions due to the live actors, so emotions hit harder. But anime def LOOKs way better in all action scenes. Angles that follow the characters are used to emphasise scale between enemy and chracters, and all the movements feel so dynamic, and i love how when they use talisman spell thingies they got a circle of light in an intricate pattern thats super beautiful. In the drama, its just a piece of paper.

However, i prefer drama's lwj. Maybe cos wyb looks so young, its more believable when he freaks out over the adult book that wwx gives him in the library scene. In the anime, he looks 20+-30+. Its a bit hard to believe that he'd be worried over that. Idk theres a kind of innocence and naivety that leads to the stubborn refusal to express emotion that young lwj is plagued with that we have in the untamed (was this intentional on wyb's part or is it because the teenage lwj wig made his eyes look floaty, so he seems more like a teenager and naive, less experienced as a cultivator vs lwj 13 years later? Dk but it works!). In the anime, he looks like an adult thats calm and level headed already from the get-go. Idk maybe i just havent watched enough (only seen up til the water demons in caiyi town). In both anime and drama, everyone and i mean EVERYONE besides the fricking babies looks the same 13/16 years later. It doesn't feel like time has passed at all. I wish they would have maybe a change in costume, or hairstyle in the anime. The drama at least changes their costumes a little and neatens the hairstyle of jiang cheng and lwj to indicate maturity.

Btw i love that in the anime for the water demons section they had wwx and jc casually chatting (though its a blatant cornetto ad which is fricking weird. How can there be frozen treats back in those days), then wwx beautifully catapulting himself onto a boat and rowing away showing the unique and romantic af mode of transport in caiyi town, then smoothly transitioning to the lan bros on the bridge right above them with lwj asking why lxc decided to bring them along. Its just tying together so many scenes, quickening the plot along and yet doing it so naturally and seamlessly compared with the novel and drama.

Though i like that the drama involved wn and wq and have wwx save wn, and makes way more sense why wn would want to risk his life to help wwx recover his parents fricking corpse illegally right under the nose of wen chao and wen zhuliu.

The anime removed the entire mystery plot of a yan and the fairy goddess statue and thats honestly the best best best choice to make. In the drama, it was one of the worse sections ever cos i didnt understand who all these random ass characters were (it was one of the first mysteries in the drama) and yet it didnt go into detail like they did in the novel, so not only did i not know what was going on, i also didnt give a single shit about the characters. When i saw that they completely did away with the random passer bys who screwed around with the fairy statue, i was thoroughly impressed.

I liked that the drama let nhs have his own trouble making moments tho, like having him sneak a live bird into class. It makes it more convincing that wwx would be friends with him because they both have a mischievous side that they can both appreciate in each other. In the anime, nhs just looks like a loser nerd thats weak in swordplay and does wwx's homework for him, without a will of his own. It doesnt make sense why wwx would keep him around. Then again, maybe itll make the reveal that nhs is a conniving mastermind more impactful for the anime, oh well only time will tell.

I liked that lxc and lwj look similar in the anime. Its more convincing when people call them the twin jades of the lan clan. In the drama, they hardly looked like brothers. Lxc looks more like lwj's mentor or teacher rather than an older brother. In the anime, they look more siblingy.

I miss drama wen ning. I rmb when he looked so fierce and terrifying in his first appearance. I was legit intimidated. Oh how hes changed! Hes so fluffy now. In the anime hes equally menacing. His fight scene with the statue goddess was so beautiful. Doesnt it take a long time to animate the chains moving so fluidly yet dynamically yet somehow looks like it can disintegrate rock in an instant? The lighting on it too, how it reflected the fire of the forest around them. Have i mentioned how beautiful having that fight scene at night was? It was dark and ominous looking, yet the fire cast an epic looking light over the scene with warm orange glows. And the animators had that fiery light reflected in anything they could find: eyes, chains, swords.

Ooh but jiang cheng's whip looked prettier in the drama than in the anime, which is kind of weird given they were both cgi-ed. Somehow the lighting of the whip in the drama was brighter, looked more like real lightning vs the whip in the anime looking a little dull, like they colored it then added a gray filter. This is kinda bizarre given the laughably bad effects of the effects for everything else in the drama. Visuals for non human things is not the drama's strong suit, so it makes u wonder what happened for the anime whip. Maybe in the dark, the lightning would have to look hella bright and reflect on the surroundings (tedious to color) more so than in the day, hence why it looked worse in anime vs drama. Oh well.

As for lan sizhui, its weird that his voice is so deep in the anime (and audio drama!). Ive always seen him as a kiddo thanks to the live action, so hearing him sound mature is kinda off-putting. He sounds like a leader, and gives off lwj vibes vs in the live action where he gives a goody two shoes studious nerd vibe, whos just trying his best. Maybe this is better, he feels way more like a lwj-raised child(serious and business-like) which makes more sense. Live action lsz feels like a wwx(optimistic and intelligent) AND lwj(well-behaved and sensible)-raised child. Anime lsz looks like hes got his shit together. Jinling is fairly similar in both, maybe less prideful in the anime (in live action theres the scene where im pretty sure he indirectly kills one of his men by wishing for the fairy goddess statue to come to life. That was a hella asshole move. This was omitted in the anime.) Jingyi in the anime somehow looks snarkier. Maybe cos he straight up duels with jinling and kicks him down a dark cave. Ive been wondering why all the tumblr posts depict ljy as this sassy ass short tempered kid when he was quite tame (though sassy by lan standards) in the live action. Now i know.

The costumes for the drama is better, more detailed though thats expected i guess. I just love that they have little white gusu lan clan uniforms that wwx jc and friendos are required to wear. Its so cute and such a cool detail. In anime, theyre all in their usual garb, and they just look like random people who decided to turn up at lan qirens class. In the drama, it looks more like a school that they have to attend for half a year and it feels characteristic that gusu lan clan would require their students to have a uniform, given their incredibly strict regime type. It also serves to separate the happy carefree school days from all the other tragic af events in wwx's life. His costume starts out white showing innocence and purity of his naiive teenage years who had yet to experience hardship and still feels invincible as a youth. After school, he wears dark blue, as he goes on an adventure with lanzhan and experience how important the yin iron is (gives up the joking light hearted nature as a teenager by realizing the gravity of situation if the wen clan gets their hands on it) and maybe that hes not truly part of the jiang clan who wears purple. Then his costume eventually becomes black as he experiences his first life and death situation that he isnt sure he can handle. That child like assurance that "oh the seniors will let me off" or "im sure jiang fengmian will come to my rescue" gets demolished when he undergoes cruel indoctrination at the wen clans. This visual development may be a bit on the nose, but personally i love subtle representations.

Overall, the anime does do a better of job of explaining the world's mechanics, which is quite important. The drama is quite faithful to the book, at times even more so than the anime, so it irks me that this is the one thing they decide to skim on. The god damn premise, the first thing the audience needs: why the hell is wwx alive again and what is mo xuanyu doing?? I guess the drama thought that it explains itself but it doesnt really. It was really confusing. The anime, though somehow faster than the drama, still has the time to properly explain mxy. A technique ive noticed is that they do exposition during the fight scenes, which is so ingenius. Its visually appealing, as always, so its not boring, the viewers gets to understand whats going on AND it gives the sense that the characters are so skilled that they carry causal conversations while fighting supposedly weak enemies like zombies and water ghosts, which is accurate seeing how wwx and lwj and friends are supposed to be one of the most powerful cultivators.

TL;DR both are good lol

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan jingyi #lan xichen #lan wangji #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #lan sizhui #wei ying #jin ling #analysis #rant #thoughts #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo xuanyu

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eurosong · 5 years

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ESC 2018 vs 2019 - Semi-final 2

Good afternoon, folks! A few days ago, I took a look at the songs of Eurovision 2019’s first semi-final, comparing them with songs from the same countries in 2018 and sharing my verdict on which year was better and why. Now it’s the turn of semi-final 2! Again, I try to see as much good as possible in each song and I mean no offence to anyone who disagrees with these opinions.

· Albania – 2018 – Albania had always been a bit of a bête noire for me at this contest, because they would so often pick fabulous songs at their long-running Festival i këngës national final, only then to completely mutilate them musically and (with the help of Bing translator, lyrically) in the revamp. Last year, that trend hopefully came to an end in the most glorious fashion when Eugent Bushpepa didn’t make any major change to Mall, one of the songs that most impressed me in this era, a soaring, moving, poëtic cri de cœur of a song. This year, they have also opted to neither translate nor musically mutate. I like their 2019 song a lot, but it’s a Scafell Pike to last year’s mighty Everest.

· Armenia – 2019 – as a glossophile who always advocates the use of national languages over English, I have some respect for Qami, the only song Armenia ever sent entirely in their language. Respect, but no love, because I found it merely ok and rather repetitive. I thought this would be a second year in a row that I’d be underwhelmed by Hayastan, but whilst this year’s offering cannot shape up to the majestic Fly with me, it’s become an earworm and I enjoy the fiery defiance of Srbuk’s lyrics and the incorporation of traditional instrumentation into something otherwise decidedly contemporary.

· Austria – 2018 – I seem to be one of very few people rating this year’s gentle, stripped-back but impassioned Austrian entry. It more than tilts its cap in the direction of Kate Bush, but I am down with that. However, it would really take some doing to beat last year’s Austrian song, Nobody but you, in my estimations – a worthy winner of the jury vote and probably the ESC’s best ever gospel-infused song for my money.

· Azerbaijan – 2019 – I’m not as won over by this Azeri effort as many people that I know. I was expected something rather different from their snippet (a word I wish I will never hear again given the amount of them this year). It’s not bad by usual standards though, and is certainly a class above Delete My Heart and its bizarre computer-generated lyrics last year.

· Croatia – 2018 – Last year’s Croatian song was a rather lame reimagining of Sam Brown’s Stop. I didn’t like the original and I sure didn’t fancy the semi-skimmed version that much either. Having said that, Franka, all is forgiven. Your song is a delight compared to the demonic screeching of this young budding ego ironically wearing (fluffy) angel wings. I thought Jacques Houdek had unleashed enough hell with his Maa fwenn/Moy frennddd but it was nothing compared to this abomination. It’s so bad that it almost scares me how bad it is.

· Denmark – 2019 – Another one where I go against the grain is Denmark. I never got the hype for Rasmussen, whose song sounded like a soundtrack for some 90s direct-to-video movie about Vikings. The only thing is that they managed to make even Vikings feel lame. It all seemed a little OTT and gimmicky to me, and the amount of repetition and the cliché pitch shift both annoyed me. On paper, this hyper-sweet Danish song should also grind my gears, but in a subpar year, I’ve actually grown a fondness for it. Maybe the Frenchness of it all was what won me over. I hope they’re not actually going to sway side to side on a big chair in the actual final, though.

· Ireland – 2018 – Two decent songs in a row from Ireland and it’s difficult to choose between them, even though neither set my world alight. I still think the staging of last year was rather cynical – two enamoured lads who had little to with the song about heartbreak, but did seem to win over some folk who otherwise would have dismissed it as a boring ballad. Seeing it live, it was quite moving, and I was able to put this incongruousness out of mind. This year’s entry has rather less artifice and a low-key charm, but I have to go for ’18 as having more depth as a composition.

· Latvia – 2018 – Despite never having reached the heights of Aminata who pulled them up from the non-qualification doldrums, I’ve enjoyed every subsequent song from Latvia, even though the standards of Supernova have dropped since the Riga Beaver stopped delighting us in the ad breaks. This year’s Latvian song is delightfully low-key, the kind of thing I imagine hearing on the radio late at night, driving in the rain. At the minute, though, I have to say I still prefer the sultry, tempestuous Funny Girl – though Esamiba would have topped both.

· Macedonia – 2018 – Macedonia, perhaps the country at the contest who least has received their dues despite some excellent songs, is a perfect illustration of how difficult these 2018 vs 2019 choices can be. Their entry this year, “Proud”, is touching and impactful on first listen, but I’ve seldom sought out to listen to it much since then. On the other hand, I was absolutely obsessed with last year’s “Lost and found”, bewitched by its changes in style and tempo. Unfortunately, the live version of 2018 was an absolute clusterfuck; it felt as though someone had been deliberately tasked with ruining their qualification chances, and that casts a shadow over the song in retrospect. I wouldn’t be surprised if 2019 is a more effective song on the stage, but for the time being, I prefer 2018 musically.

· Malta – 2019 – There is absolutely no contest here for me. This is the first song sent by Malta that manages to hold my interest since “Tomorrow” way back in 2013. It’s more daring and contemporary than I ever imagined would be their choice. In a different universe from the screechy “Taboo.” It’s also refreshing to have a Maltese song that doesn’t try to get brownie points from their message.

· Moldova – 2018 – A truly plague vs cholera choice. 2018’s bizarre Kirkorov-spawned ode to the ménage-à-trois versus this year’s painfully, painfully dull ballad-by-numbers with rhyming-also-by-number (rhyming say with stay, never with forever. Troolee jeenyuss.) I have to go with 2018, which creeped me out, but at least was kind of interesting in its own weird way, and its staging showed ingenuity despite limited resources.

· Netherlands – 2018 – I’m sure for a lot of people, this choice is a no-brainer, but for me, it is very much a difficult choice. I really loved “Outlaw in ‘em”, Waylon’s country style is up my street and, whilst I still think “Thanks or no thanks” would have been a cannier choice, I appreciated one of the few moments last year in which one could rock out. “Arcade” is a different beast entirely, so comparisons are odious. Both are stirring, but OIE is riotous and defiant, whilst Arcade is poignant. It’s hard to choose just one, but I have to go for the one I’m more likely to have on repeat, last year’s song.

· Norway – 2019 – Oh, Norway. For a few glorious years, with Margaret Berger, Karl Espen and then especially Mørland, they were the coolest thing going out of the Nordics – but how the mighty have fallen. I haven’t really liked a single one of their entries since then and once again, I am faced with a choice between two unsavoury options. Their entry this year sounds like Aqua went into the woods for a spiritualistic retreat, came back, wrote a shitty b-side about the experience and then decided not to release it, only for some Norwegians to find it about 20 years later and pass the song off as their own. Everything about it makes me cringe on an almost existential level. It appals me that the “come on barbie, let’s go pardy”-style joiking is being compared to JHF who actually representing joik in a classier way. I say all this, and yet, this year’s offering is still not ás bad as 2018’s “That’s how you write a song”, a “children’s TV show theme” song whose cosmic irony would be funny were it not so tragic.

· Romania – 2018 – I didn’t think this would be such a tough decision when I found out the results for Selecţia Naţionala, and was absolutely amazed that the public had only 1/7th of the result, and that the juries had catapulted a song that only picked up 3% of the televote (Laura Bretan, the televote winner, got a 42% share, in contrast) on the back of a rather dubious live performance. I’m still not sure why Ester puts on a vocal affectation that makes her sound like she’s having a tantrum, but somehow the song’s dark ambiance and the hilarious video won me over. It still can’t compare to last year’s emotional, underrated effort which brought to mind departed friends.

· Russia – 2019 – Sergey’s return is a little pompous and will certainly be wrapped up with unnecessary staging frills; that being said, it’s a decent song, which is more than I can say about the truly ghoulish “I won’t break,” whose only virtue for me – being slightly better than the hideous and ungrammatical “Flame is burning” – was removed when I saw that impossibly bad staging, confining their singer almost embarrassedly into the background.

· Sweden – 2019 – For the first time in a few years, Sweden have sent an artist and song that I don’t find completely objectionable. That isn’t to say that I don’t find any objection at all – soul is not really soul when it is so heavily manufactured, and I cannot help but feel that they’ve taken more than a fair amount of inspiration from both Austria of last year and Bulgaria of 2016. Nonetheless, I can bear it a lot better than Dance you off.

· Switzerland – 2018 – For once, I actually had a little bit of hope for Switzerland, who have been going through the motions with some turgid fare for the last number of years, with the only exception for me being Hunter of Stars. Going internal made me feel they had something exceptional, and I guess they thought they did, but for me, instead they brought a thinly veiled male take on Fuego and little more. Last year’s effort also didn’t impress me much, a dirgey bit of trust fund faux-rock (frock?), but I’ll take it over the Chernobyl levels of radioäctive smugness exuded by this latter Swiss attempt.

And as for the automatic qualifiers:

· Germany – 2018 – When I heard that Barbara Schöneberger, she of the eyes that are bigger than Lake Baikal and seems permanently traumatised, was coming back after a year’s absence as host, I joked that I was amazed she was given back the gig given that every year she’s been in charge, there’s been an abject failure and the one edition where she was absent, Germany managed to get a fantastic result. I feel they’re back to their losing ways with Sister, a song performed by a group called S!sters who have only known one another for a few months if that. It’s one of many songs this year with decent verses but a horrible chorus. It’s supposed to be a celebration of sisterhood, but it feels moreso like these two want to scratch the other’s eyes out whilst they stand there, wailing at one another. There were things that annoyed me about last year’s German entry too, particularly the large section in which he merely said “whoahaoaoaoa” as if he’d run out of ideas for lyrics, but it was otherwise a stellar, well-written effort. In another league to these imaginary sisters.

· Italy – 2019 – Italy is one of the very few countries where I prefer 2019 to 2018, 2018 to 2017, 2017 to 2016 and 2016 to 2015! They just get better year on year. I adored “Metamoro” and still consider their song a huge highlight, one of the best of last year and of recent years. It’s incredibly difficult to choose between them and Mahmood’s Soldi, but he somehow managed to win me over even more with his anthemic, autobiographical song which has a contemporary edge but also the timelessness and quality of San Remo orchestral compositions. My number one this year so far.

· UK – 2019 – Eurovision: You Decide got even drearier than usual this year. Whilst other countries like France increased the number of songs from which their viewers could choose, BBC cut their choices down to three, got two sets of people to perform each song in a different style pastiche and then didn’t even allow the viewers to choose which rendition they preferred. We ended up with a bog-standard “X factor winners’ single”-style song that SVT told John Lundvik not to perform for them. It has the edge because it at least “hey muvva, bruvva” lyrics or random Casio noises in the background like Surie’s song. She really deserved more.

#esc #eurovision #esc 2019 #eurovision song contest #opinion #eurovision 2019

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frostythefelix · 6 years

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You Suck! Bonus Part

“I don’t know if I can do this, Y/N.” Chan mumbled, staring at your parents house from inside the Uber. It had been over a year since you last saw them, since Chan had turned you into a vampire, and since you fell in love. You had been successfully trained for awhile now, so when you begged to go back and see your parents, there was little to no reason why you couldn’t. You were going to tell them you found an amazing skincare line in Italy that practically froze your face so when you saw them years from now, they wouldn’t question how you still looked 20. There was also the question of how you got so pale. You were ready to blame it on the skincare routine the two of you had been doing every night.

“You’ve got this! They’re going to love you.” You assured him, hiding how nervous you were yourself. There was no doubt in your mind that they would love him; it wasn’t that that you were afraid of. You hadn’t seen them in an entire year. Would they be mad at you, at him? Shaking your head, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front door, not bothering knocking since you never had before. Chan squeaked in protest, a sound that always made you giggle. You swore you were dating a toddler sometimes. “Mom, Dad?” You called out into the house. A gasp resided from the kitchen, and then the two elderly people you loved the most came rushing out to greet you. You let go of Chan’s hand to hug your parents, leaving him to stand awkwardly and watch. Your mother gasped when she caught sight of him. He shuffled his feet awkwardly at the attention.

“Is this him?” She asked, not waiting for your reply and pulling him into her motherly embrace.

“Yes, Mom.” You giggled, “That’s him.”

“Must be some man if you got our stubborn daughter to go all the way to Italy with you.” Your father joked, clapping him on the back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Your mother grinned, folding her hands in front of her. “Oh, how handsome you are! You really got a good one, hun.” Your mother complimented before pulling you into the kitchen.

“So, Chan was it?” Your father asked. Chan nodded in response with a shy grin, ogling the home cooked meal in front of him. His nerves were going crazy inside. He was jealous almost. Watching you interact with your parents made him miss his. “Where are you from, Chan?” He questioned and you groaned, not ready for the interrogation that was about to take place. But Chan was ready. Kind of. He loved you and he knew it was important to you that your family liked him. He straightened up and smiled at your father.

“Australia, originally, sir.” Your father’s eyes widened with interest. He began a conversation with your boyfriend in English. You stared, trying to use your limited knowledge of the English language to decipher what they were saying. Your mother squealed in delight, cooing about how adorable she thought your boyfriend was. You didn’t think you could love Chan any more than you already did, but clearly you were wrong. Your father let out a low chuckle at something your boyfriend said. You looked between them curiously before Chan’s hand rested on your knee. You grinned up at him, savoring the smile on his face.

“I give my stamp of approval.” You father laughed, pretending to stamp the table with his thumb. The four of you ate happily, conversation buzzing easily.

After dinner, you offered to do the dishes. They refused, waving you off to the living room with Chan in tow. Deciding a tour of the house was necessary, you tugged him down the hall to your old bedroom. You paused at the door for dramatic effect, causing Chan to chuckle lightly before you opened the door. The room was small, a lilac color on the walls and white twin bed in the corner. An empty wooden dresser stood across from the bed, old memories littered the top: photos, cards, drawings. Chan held up a photo of you and your best friend with a frown on his face.

“You should call her,” was all he said before putting the photo back in its spot. You nodded, assuring him that you would when you got home. You missed your friend and you felt bad about the way you left things with her. She’d tried to contact you several times, but you ignored her in fear of losing your control.

“You know,” you said, looking at an old photo of your parents. “You’re quite the charmer.” Chan smirked at you, closing the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arms around you and clasping his hands together at the small of your back. You sent him a teasing grin, closing your eyes when he pressed his forehead against yours. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and then another one. The teasing tone turned to one of love and adoration.

“I was so scared they’d hate me.” He admitted, tightening his grip around you, holding you flush against him.

“How could anyone hate you?” You asked, brushing your thumb lightly against his cheek. He chuckled in response, pressing his face against your hand.

“You hated me.” He pointed out.

“Okay, that’s different. You quite literally murdered me and left me to suffer!” You protested with a laugh. How you two came to be was now an ongoing joke between you. It was quite comical if you thought about it.

“I was bored!” He whined, hugging you tighter. You laughed, relishing in the feeling of him holding you. You’re mother’s voice beckoning the two of you into the living room was the only thing that broke you apart. You gave him one last kiss before making your way to the living room. Your father was sat on his favorite recliner chair watching the news while your mother sat happily on the couch next to it. You smiled at them, taking a seat next to your mother and patting the open spot next to you for Chan. His hand instinctively went to your knee, squeezing affectionately. Your mother notices the action, a sly grin on her lips.

“So,” she said, sharing a knowing glance with your father. “When can we expect grandkids?” Chan choked on air when he gasped.

“Mom!” You shrieked, trying to comfort your shocked boyfriend. “We’re not even married yet!” She huffed, slouching.

“Well get married then. You’d make really cute babies.” She shrugged. You stared at her open mouthed. This would not be the time to tell her you couldn’t have kids, you thought.

“We, um, can’t.” Chan mumbled. You glared at him, earning a confused then guilty look from your boyfriend.

“Why not?” Your father asked.

“I’m infertile.” You said, your answer sounding more like a question. “Um, we had a pregnancy scare a while back, but the doctor said I can’t have kids so we don’t have a problem.” You were taking the words out of your ass, not sure if it even made sense. Chan nodded frantically next to you.

“It was really sad. I’ve always wanted kids, but I love Y/N, so I can live without them.” He smiled down at you, squeezing your knee. A giggle bubbled out of your throat as you leaned into him. He truly had a way with words.

“Well, is there a wedding in the future, at least?” Your father questioned, a glint in his eye as he leaned forward. You blushed, looking at Chan for an answer. A shy grin was set on his lips as he shrugged.

“Anyway, take some food to go!” Your mother rushed, pushing herself off of the couch and hobbling to the kitchen. You felt like she was rushing you out, but shook your head at the thought. She would never.

“Thanks for the leftovers, Mom.” You hugged her, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“It’s the least I could do. Come back soon, and call me!” She scolded. You chuckled in response, agreeing before saying goodbye to your father. The ride home was relaxing. You laid in Chan’s arms in the back of the Uber, your eyes hardly able to keep themselves open. It had been an eventful day and you were so ready for bed.

Chan smiled at you, making grabby hands to tell you he wanted to cuddle. You shimmied your way to him in only his large t-shirt, your favorite kind of pajamas. Sinking down into the bed, you melted into Chan’s loving embrace. A thought came to mind as you closed your eyes.

“Chan?” You asked quietly. He hummed in response. “Do you think we’ll ever get married?” You felt Chan move under you and you looked up to catch his gaze.

“You wanna?” His question had you smiling, an embarrassed blush on your cheeks.

“Yeah.” Chan sighed at your short reply.

“I was gonna wait for a more romantic occasion.” He giggled, slipping out from under you and getting something out of his sock drawer. You gasped at the small red velvet box in his grip. He got down on his knees in front of the bed, a cheeky smile on his face as he presented your great-grandmother’s ring to you. The ring had been passed down generations to all the women in your family. You had no idea how he got it, but you weren’t about to complain. “Y/N, we’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. I would really, really like it if I could call you my wife throughout all of it. Marry me?” You catapulted yourself forward, catching Chan in a tight embrace as happy tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I would be honored to be your wife, Chan. I love you so much.” You cuddled off your excitement, the lights off as the two of you held each other with large grins plastered on your faces. “Ya know, I’m kind of glad you murdered me at that Halloween party.” You admitted, wiggling to find a more comfortable position. Your confession coaxed a loud laugh out of your new fiance and he held you tighter against him. Could life get any better, you asked yourself.

“Now, bang me, Mrs. Bang.” Chan whispered. With a giggle, you flipped over to kiss him with all your might. No, you were sure, life could not get any better than this.

masterlist

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #kpop

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onestowatch · 5 years

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Mod Sun Chats Sobriety, Lessons Learned, and “I Remember Way Too Much” [PREMIERE + Q&A]

Photo Credit: Alexis Yorey a.k.a. LUCY

Derek Smith, more popularly known as Mod Sun, has had a flair for the arts and eccentricity since birth. Growing up in rural Bloomington, Minnesota, Mod Sun came of age on classic ‘60s and ‘70s artists, instilling in him a hunger for the organic components of music. Starting with drums then picking up the guitar to the keys and everything in between, he immersed himself in the post-hardcore/emo rock world, touring with the likes of Four Letter Lie and Scary Kids Scaring Kids.

From his often unruly and raucous childhood, Mod Sun has adopted and truly embodies the rock star lifestyle. Yet, his life wasn’t always the glitz and glamour you see in the press today. His first few years in Los Angeles were spent homeless on the beaches of Long Beach. There he learned valuable lessons from the homeless community around him, hearing their stories and coming to understand the power of real human connection. Harnessing the creative energy that had always lived inside of him, Mod Sun traded his rags for riches and his currency? Art. All forms, visual arts, literary arts, musical arts. You name it, Mod Sun revels in it.

Three books, a myriad of poems, a collection of videos, and slew of musical projects later, Mod Sun has become a respected member of a variety of artistic communities, finding a special niche in the hip hop world. Making early friends with the likes of Machine Gun Kelly, blackbear, G-Eazy and more, Mod Sun has become more than an artist but a public figure with compelling messages for the world.

One of those messages is being heard today on his highly anticipated single “I Remember Way Too Much” (May 31). An anthemic, reminiscing track oozing with hope and perfected with a stupidly catchy hook, “I Remember Way Too Much” is a fitting single for the Mod Sun of today. A person who is looking forward, never back and is dedicated to pursuing a life of clarity and heightened enlightenment.

We had a moment to catch up with Mod Sun and ask him all about his feelings toward the new single, his past and childhood, and most importantly the lessons he has garnered along the way.

OTW: Let’s start at the top. Can you give us a look into Mod Sun as a kid and how you found a calling for the arts?

Mod Sun: Born on a farm in Minnesota. My parents were listening to music and partying almost all day and night— mostly Bob Dylan, Allman Brothers, The Doors. My love for that kind of lifestyle most likely began there. Then in 8th grade I found blink-182 and became a full time pop-punk, skateboarding, trouble making teen. Started countless bands and was a nasty drummer. Toured the world with Four Letter Lie and Scary Kids Scaring Kids before 20 years old, then boom started Mod Sun at 21.

OTW: You grew up in Bloomington, Minnesota later moving to Los Angeles. Was growing up in the Mid West difficult for you as a person with an affinity for eccentricity?

Mod Sun: Honesty no, but that might just be due to the fact that I was also raised to never complain. I loved it. I was the only outsider in town, truly. They would always try to bring me inside, I played all kinds of sports til 9th grade, but I was never having it. I used it as a catapult because I knew I had NO competition.

OTW: Who was the #1 figure in your life that has influenced your artistry most profoundly?

Mod Sun: Bob Dylan, without a doubt. He is loved for his words not his voice or look. I have always looked up to that as the utmost when it comes to music. As far as his lifestyle, I jumped trains and ran away from home at 17 because of him. I read Arthur Rimbaud and Jack Kerouac because of him. I learned everything I know from him. Others have affected me like Jim Morrison, Charles Bukowski, Miles Davis, the list goes on BUT no one like Mr. Bob Dylan.

OTW: How did post-hardcore and emo music influenced your sound and style today?

Mod Sun: It’s honestly come back around full circle at this point. I always had an advantage in hip hop because of those days ‘cause I was taught to perform at a very high intensity level from day one. I also know how to play EVERY instrument because laptop days didn’t exist then. It molded me completely.

OTW: You’re an artist of many hues, boasting endeavors in literary and visual arts. Any new non-musically related projects we can look forward to?

Mod Sun: Always. A new book on the way which is documenting my current state of sobriety. I’m currently 20 days clean of drugs and alcohol which happens to the longest I’ve gone since 15 years old. I feel present right now. :)

Photo Credit: Alexis Yorey a.k.a. LUCY

OTW: You’ve mentioned before that Machine Gun Kelly is a mentor of yours; what is one MGKism that has affected you most profoundly?

Mod Sun: To be UNAPOLOGETIC at all times. Remain self aware but also be outside yourself. A lot of it is how he holds himself to a specific, distinct regard and refuses to ever stray from that. It’s very endearing and I consistently find real life moments to use what he has taught me. I love him like a brother, this life and the next.

OTW: “I Remember Way Too Much” is a big release for you, from all your work in music, what about this record is so special to you?

Mod Sun: Okay, being completely narcissistic here, so excuse me please. It’s a hit. A very big DJ was nice enough to let me come in to a station here in LA and play it for him, what he said was “Mod, here’s how it is. Songs are good. Songs are great and some songs are hits. It’s a complete different degree between the three. This song is a hit. You got one. I’m gonna help you out.” So that moment right there shifted my thinking. I felt like the way I felt about my music was finally able to be felt by everyone. That’s what a hit is to me. Lemme know your thoughts.

OTW: You’re an avid supporter of real human connection and staying rooted in positivity. How do you personally stay grounded in the entertainment industry?

Mod Sun: Honesty. Everyday, all day long, all I can preach to the world right now is honesty. Transparency is a form of power. You tell the world the truth and nothing can be taken from you. That’s how I’m navigating through everything right now, especially because things in my personal life have become very public within the last two years.

OTW: Alright, we are obsessed with “I Remember Way Too Much,” please tell us we have a full length project coming from you soon *fingers crossed*?

Mod Sun: I promise it’s literally a song or two away from being complete, and just like my other albums it’s a story from front to finish. A true album. So please be patient while I align these stars, it is almost our time.

OTW: Tell us about the rise to where you are now, from homelessness to finding success through your artistry amongst some of LA’s finest, what are the lessons you hold closest to your heart?

Mod Sun: Sometimes the top of the world can only be seen at the bottom of the sea. I guess now at this point in time, I have such a clear mind state for the first time ever, and I do believe in everything I’ve preached to the world. Positivity is the answer my friends. I feel grateful right now at this very moment to be alive. I’m happy to be here.

OTW: Who are your Ones to Watch?

Mod Sun: Lost In Vegas is next. Period. Plain and simple. He is my first artist on New Hippys… and he will do amazing things so WATCH HIM.

#Mod Sun #Lost In Vegas #I Remember Way Too Much #Hip Hop #rap #rock #alternative #interviews

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musefulstranger · 6 years

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What's truly heartbreaking throughout the first 20 minutes of interaction between Dovid, Ronit and Esti, is the fact that each one of them wants to desperately connect with the other but they don't know how, or if they're supposed to.

Dovid wants to comfort Ronit for her loss ,it is there, you can feel it in the way he helps her light her cigarette with his hands, the way he nods with his gentle, knowing smile, like he's whispering "i get you, i understand".

It’s like there’s this huge time jump that brings us back to the old days where rules and musts weren’t a one way, because kids are still allowed a dose of freedom , crafting themselves for their future reflections.

Ronit’s family is a ghost of memories full of bitterness and unacceptance . She chose to forget because sometimes numbness is better. She burned all her bridges and run away like a wounded animal.

New place, new people and a fervid need for attachment, because how do you survive this sense of not belonging? You always, always need to grasp on to something.It ‘s in the human nature.

With no home, no mother or father to connect her to the past anymore Ronit is pleading Dovid and Esti.

Hug me. Miss me. I am back.Do you want me back?

How many times did Ronit ask Esti if she wants her in the house,if she needs to change her tickets, to go back to her world where she’s accepted, where she feels safe.

A tired provocateur begging for reassurance, bold and witty and so very lost.

“Come, let us talk, the three of us like we used to be”.

Poor Ronit. Her craving is so palpable but Dovid and Esti are so very broken. Their dysfunctionality as a couple catapults back to Ronit who is just standing there, in the kitchen or the attic trying to understand.

“Was this marriage good for you?”

Not a hint of irony. It was an honest question.

And then their faces. The two perfect opposites. Dovid smiling, completely delusional, because what else is left to do? And Esti.

Where to begin and where to end with Esti.

Always calm and reserved, her life a social obligation because she must.

She must this, and she must that and she. must .

Suppress. Everything.

She will bite her lips and grit her teeth and show anger and bitterness and hollowness to Ronit because she left fourteen years ago, and since then Esti ceased to exist.

How do you breathe the same air under the same roof after so many years, after so much pain, how is it possible for Ronit to be back?

It is actually painful to observe Esti’s reactions and decipher the feelings or how Ronit perceives them.

Because at first, Ronit doesn’t get it. She feels that something is off, because this is not her Esti.

But.

There’s a big difference between them.In those fourteen years Ronit managed to get a hold of her life. Her choice to leave everything behind was not easy but eventually she did make a choice.

Esti is not really there. All this time it’s like she postponed this, what she always knew, and this small tiny motion- to contact Ronit to come back for her father- set everything on fire. It was the first awakening.

“what? Do I look old? i’m tired. I’m just tired”

Oh Esti.So fragile, Ronit could probably crush her with her nail.A halfdead fish struggling to stay alive.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

You happened to me.

And those were just the first 20 minutes of the film.

Imagine if I started analyzing the whole thing.

#disobedience #rachel weisz #rachel mcadams #ronit x esti #ronit #esti #sebastian lelio #dovid #film analysis #well this is more like an essay than a post lmao

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mastrrt · 6 years

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The Tigress Dilemma *fanfiction*

Usually, fanfic writers (such as I) have a hard time depicting complex characters such as Tigress, ergo this lack of this understanding about our characters can lead us to defile their original personalities and characteristics. I'm pretty sure most, if not, all of us are victims to the Tigress Dilemma, and this problem can only be resolved once Dreamworks has finished Tigress's arc. The Tigress Dilemma is basically what I mentioned above. We misinterpret Tigress and that could lead us to writing imposters instead. Now I have seen many fanfics, and all of them vary in the extent of how terrible their Tigress imposter is. I would say that for my fanfics, my Tigress imposter is pretty far off from the original character, but I feel I am getting there... it's a very slow progress, but every increment of time is making me better as a writer. Anywho, I'll be addressing some Tigress Imposter stereotypes. These stereotypes are the ones we want to avoid as much as possible. And if we do so, we can get closer to the original Tigress. Now, disclaimer, I am not here to tarnish the pride of any of you fanfic writers. I'm just here to point out my opinions and hopefully my opinions can do more good than harm. Also, to bring this blog a more positive vibe, I will be writing some Tigress stereotypes that we should all follow. But that'll be on the next post. 1. The 'Punk Girl School Bully' Type of Tigress. (LoA Tigress) Sleeves are for wimps... fat muscles... I got huge front teeth... i'll put your head on the toilet... pig anatomy on the facial region... you punk!... ILLL BEAT YOUUU UP!... girl that looks like a man... Those lines are all inside the ambit of any typical Buff School Girl Bully. And yeah, these types of people aren't the most likeable. Mainly because of their terrible ego and pride, their unmanaged temper, their constant screaming, and the fact that they bully. And these types of characters usually act upon their anger, and these types of characters are usually defeated by their own caprices. Now a lot of times, people usually confuse 'Punk Girl School Bully' as Tigress's characteristics.

For example, a lot of fanfictions tend to write this: Tigress was clouded with anger. How dare this cocky prick make fun of her name like that? She charged at him, trying to land a double fist strike on her belly, but it has seemed that her muscles were so angry that she suddenly turned into an amateur fighter and totally missed the cocky mite's stomache. Now she was even angrier. She gave a frustrated yell and pounced at the prick, driving her feet into a powerful tornado kick, but the man has sidestepped and she was too angry to use that momentum to execute another kick upon landing. Oh she was so so SO angry that everything turned red. Even though the man was merely a stranger, his smart remarks was enough to somehow make Tigress want to tamper him, as if her anger was derived from personal matter. Oh yes, Tigress was so weak that her peace has succumbed so easily to something as superficial as an empty insult. It isn't like she's a warrior who learned integrity, who lived by virtues and proverbs, and learned to swallow her pride the hard way. Nope. She was just the average hot head. "You! You idiot!" She yelled, driving her fist into arbitrary turns and twist with the speed of a toddler's fist in a fit of frenzy. And yet, after delivering such 'efficient' attacks, the man had avoided her punches the Muhammad Ali way. What's next? The rope-a-dope? Is that how weak Tigress became because of her anger? Oh, and since she's sooo angry, she also became majorly stupid! Since she's losing, she might as well become more desperate to win and because of this, she kinda lost 9/10 of her damn brain. It isn't like she had experienced worst before. It isn't like she's been in a tower surrounded by hundreds of adversaries, outmatched, outgunned, out everything, and still managed to escape through a genius idea to catapult her and her Enterprise out the flaming tower THROUGH the toppling flaming tower.

Look, Tigress can be hot head, but she doesn't allow it to manifest in a way that hampers her during battle. She's a warrior who for sure learned patience. Yes, she might have let herself succumb to her anger during the first movie (by trying to fight Tai Lung despite her master's efforts to stop her) but do understand that it was because of that cursed snow leopard that her father was just outright terrible to her, and 20 years of desperation and overwhelming commitment to kung fu led her to think that defeating Tai Lung is the key to Shifu's heart. Watch the Second movie through and through, with the eyes of a scrutenizing critic. If she is angry, it is usually to appear intimidating or lethal. It's a great strategy, escpecially now that her opponents would surely hold back once they hear the low baritone of her growl. But never, never, never, never, I assure you, did she appear angry and let that rage make her a haphazard, stupid, mess.

Also, fanfic writers tend to also write this: Tigress crossed her arms and growled. Po was so annoying! He wouldn't stop babbling about his new dumpling recipe. If he says 'broccoli broth' one more time, she is sure her dormant side would burst. "SHUT UP PO! YOU ARE AN IDIOT! YOU ARE SO CHILDISH! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE THE DRAGON WARRIOR!" And then, Po cried and ran away from the kitchen. The rest of the five gave her a look that could compare to the menacing glare of a thousand men, and they all left her to find the weeping Po. She sneered, she didn't need them anyways. She didn't have a family. And they were no friends of hers.

Tigress is not like this! She values her friends, and she talks to them like friends. Do no potray her the LoA way, because she's not always grumpy... and she is, by chance, grumpy, it's mostly for a reason. When the other five are irritated or even disgusted of Po, you can see that only Tigress smiles. And when she is in an argument, she usually deliver herself in a calm and threatening. Yeah, calm and threatening can be together. Tigress works as a paradox. I think the problem here is that people mistake seriousness and grumpiness as neigh synonyms. DON'T mistake those two different words with the same definition. Tigress is serious, but rarely grumpy in the way LoA/ fancfictions potrays her (just compare KFP 2 Tigress to LoA Tigress (there's a big difference I tell you that (mostly because she doesn't haphazardly turn into a big bish (is this even grammatically correct?))))

2. The Morally Deficient Tigress. I hate you!... you've always been terrible to me Shifu. So I hate you too!... you guys are not my family!... i have no family!... brat times twenty... your spoon is stupid... everyone is stupid... I don't wanna do this anymore... i'll turn evil in six seconds if you don't assuage my ego... cold hearted... insults everywhere... long sullen silences followed by mean comments followed by even more long sullen silences... angst angst angst for no reason... teenage i-have-20-pounds-of-eyeliner-under-my-eyes prototype. this type of imposter Tigress is probably one of the worst forms of Tigress out there. You cannot just ignore that she has been raised by two kung fu masters, one has morals that are so polished and perfect, and the other one with flaws but regardless still wiser than most. She's also follows a regimented schedule of supreme discipline throughout the course of her twenty-eight years, so surely she has been taught hardwork, patience, determination and other virtues that any average olympian athletes would typically have. Despite being called cold-hearted, stoic, perhaps even mean, do remember that she is also a HERO. With a hero's heart and the strength of a hero's mind. You can not simply ignore that she's a good person who had saved, quite possibly, thousands of lives, expecting nothing in return except the heart of her father and a place to reside. Do not mistake badassery with idiocy. Do not make her morally deficient like she's a little child with the mindset of a brat on a bad day.

Here's some examples of this nightmare: "Why do you keep these stuff? You're so childish, you don't deserve to be the Dragon Warrior!" Tigress looked around his loft, threatened by the action figures and the posters of the masters that adorned it.

Po frowned, "But... but... items like these have very big value to me Tigress. Especially my action figures, I cherish them because it's a large fragment of my childhood memories!"

Tigress did not understand. Of course she did not, not only is she whimsy, grumpy, angry and stupid, she also lacks understanding and lessons that can usually be self-taught at the age of twenty. She acts like a little child and that's all her morality is limited to. "No! They're wooden things with no value whatsoever. Stop being a fanboy. Stop being yourself! I can't support you! You idiot."

And she left the room with grandeur ---Sharpei Style with the hint of swagger. Five days later... "It's all your fault why we're here Po! All your fault. It isn't like you made a wonderful plan and I kinda destroyed it after this cocky douche made me angry and I decided to fight him and ditch your plan. And since my dignity got the best of me, it isn't like I'm blaming you 100% on our unfortunate demise when I know 200% that i'm to blame." Po tried to speak, but Tigress continued, "Ya'll should have listened to me! Me me me me! Me me me me!" The end!

Okay okay, it's a little too exaggerated, but you get the point right? Tigress doesn't act like this. She is kind and nice, she's truly supportive even with her doubts, and she loves and values her friends, albeit these traits are not exposed because it's overshadowed by her stoic demeanor. Whatever... sometimes light filters through her facade and you can see her vulnerabilities.

3. The Profesional Becomes the Biggest Amateur. Gets defeated by a few alligators who could barely fight... can't get unstuck from a rope THAT ISNT EVEN KNOTTED NOR THICK ENOUGH TO CARRY TWO POUNDS... can't get out a sticky situation even though she has been through worse... pathetic tiger... no longer has super strength that she has been gifted with. Now I'm just a thread's breadth away before typing a full fledge rant. Yes! I get it. She has been defeated by people who Po can defeat. She has been defeated by Tai lung and Po was able to defeat Tai Lung. But that was because Po was in a special situation, and it was truly only Po who could defeat Tai Lung (I'll adress this in a new post.) Have ya'll ever of this rule, in both film making and book writing, that authors must refrain from degrading everyone's intelligence so that a single character can appear in the caliber of a genius? Basically, what I'm saying is that you cannot make the five (escape Tigress) leagues weaker than their original selves just for the sake of making Po or your main OCs appear stronger. One, that's a terrible illusion that even a blind man can see through. And two, that's just disrespectful for a The Five. Not only are the five overshadowed, but ya'll also heavily disregarded the fact that they are warriors that did a lot. You're forgetting that Tigress can do this

Do not forget that she is the person who can do so much more. If you want a story where Tigress becomes a damsel in distress, and Po is the one to save her, DO NOT get her kidnapped by five wolves. Or ten. Or even twenty. Because this tiger can handle of them easy. Make sure she is defeated by a whole fudging army, or a bunch of hooded warriors who are thousands of years old and are as good as Shifu in kung fu. Make sure her defeat is reasonable and respects what she can do. KNOW what she can do, so that you learn her limits. Give her a challenge, give her a run for her money. Don't make her pathetic just because you want someone else to seem not pathetic. Us fan fic writers say that Tigress is hardcore. Awesome. Badarse. So maybe we should write her that way. Some fan fics I read write that Tigress got defeated because she was hungry or tired and couldn't fight against a few adversaries. I roll me eyes. Bro! You cannot make hunger the reason why she's defeated😂 have you seen what she ate during the first KFP movie? Her meals consists of tea and a small, chewy block of tofu. Please. She had trained her body and mind to resist pain in a way that wouldn't affect her during battle. And don't go destroying her stamina either. If she can go the whole night just battling a bunch of wolves, without even so much as passing out then pulease, don't make tiredness as an excuse. But there are some exceptions though. Like maybe she got tired because she drained her chi. Then that's understandable. So much work.

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thechanelmuse · 6 years

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It all became real the summer before my senior year of college. It was 2010, and my home phone still had a cord, which I wrapped around my fingers as I waited not-so-patiently for the apathetic representative on the other end to tell me the bad news about my student loan debt. My father was in front of me, his typically ruddy face redder than usual. “A 9.25 percent interest rate?” he yelled, “How can you put that on a kid?” It was clear he was worried, and he had every right to be — as the cosigner of my loans, my debt would be his responsibility, too.

The loan, ironically called a "Smart Option" loan, has a variable interest rate that fluctuates based on changes in the financial market — which may have been explained to me at the time (I truly don't remember), but I know I didn't fully grasp what that meant. Either way, neither of my parents wanted me to take it — I could tell that much. My mother didn’t even have to say it, as she sat wordlessly next to me on the couch. Like most working-class parents, she couldn’t fathom paying more than $30,000 a year for my education (let alone $60,000). My father, an electrician who worked nights driving Amtrak trains to put himself through trade school, only earned his associate’s degree in his mid-30s. My mother held a few random part-time jobs over the years while she devoted herself to raising my brother and me, but she never graduated from high school. The concept of attending a private college, let alone paying for it, was completely foreign to them. They wanted me to chase something bigger than they ever had access to. They just didn’t want “bigger” to mean drowning for the next 20 years in an all-consuming pile of debt.

At this point in my education, after two years of private college (and one in a public university), I had already taken out eight substantial loans totaling over $67,000, whose repayment I hadn't even begun to contemplate. Knowing how much debt I had already amassed, my father tried to impress upon me the difference between this new loan and all of the others I had already taken out — whose average interest rate meted out to a little under 6 percent — and why this loan would be harder to pay in a sea of already-hard-to-pay debt. I knew racking up one more loan and another $24,000 wasn’t ideal, but what was the alternative? Dropping out? Transferring to a new school and hoping my credits would translate? Leaving all the relationships I had cultivated with students and professors alike behind? So I chose to take the loan. In my final year of college, with my back against the wall, Sallie Mae made me an offer I did not know how to refuse.

Now, eight years later, that loan — one of nine that left me $95,000 in debt upon graduation (because, yes, interest does accrue while you’re in school) — very clearly marks the exact moment when I lost control of my own financial destiny.

According to a February 2018 study published by the Levy Economic Institute, a nonpartisan policy think tank at Bard College, there are 44.2 million Americans with student loans, which adds up to about $1.4 trillion in debt. There already exists a myriad of research-driven articles that wax on the impact of the student loan crisis on the future of this country (screwed), our economy (broken), and the weight of the loan crisis (crippling). Those are all important to read, but this story isn’t one of them. I've learned that citing the national student loan debt totals in the trillions doesn’t get across how this massive problem impacts us individually, in real life. So, I'd rather talk honestly about what it’s like to live this… to explain in everyday dollars and cents how I get by living in a debt spiral, month to month, paycheck to paycheck.

When I was 18, I fully believed that taking out student loans was the only way to achieve my dream and my parents’ dream for me — to transcend my working class upbringing. I was desperate and uninformed and, because of this, I entered into a dangerous relationship with a loan company that will last half my lifetime. Now, I’m finally facing up to the brutal details (after years of sticking my head in the sand) and learning the ins and outs of my debt — and the truth is mind-blowing.

Part of the problem lies in how complicated it is to find that truth in the first place. Navient, as Sallie Mae’s student loan division is now known after it splintered into two companies in 2014, doesn’t make it easy to access the specific details of your loans; sure, it's online portal does have a tab that says “Loan Details,” but inside that section, only the money you still owe is listed (not the money you’ve already paid).

(You can also see here that the interest rate for that loan isn’t 9.25 percent anymore. Because it's a loan with a variable interest rate, it’s up to 11 percent — a fact I only learned when I called to ask why my monthly payments had increased. As my lender matter-of-factly loan-splained, “We’re not legally required to disclose when we change your interest rate, as per the contract.” I had missed that clause in the multi-page contract I signed when I was 20.)

In order to determine how much money you’ve actually paid to a loan, you have to browse your “Account History” and download a jumbled Excel file that’s filled with extraneous details that don’t make simple addition or subtraction easy. (That's if the files work at all — my browser crashed repeatedly for weeks just trying to get this information. When I called Navient to report this, they offered to mail me the details, which they said would arrive within 18 days.)

Maybe it’s technically difficult to list what a client has paid thus far on that details page… or maybe that information made readily available and visible to the world would catapult most borrowers into fits of rage. It’s hard to tell, and my repeated calls to Navient media reps for comment received no reply. No matter why it's so difficult to find, the truth behind my payments and how they were allocated stopped me dead in my tracks. I had no idea so much of the money I was paying did nothing but abate rising interest, barely touching the principal sum.

For example, the worst of my nine loans looks like this:

#college debt #student loan debt #sallie mae #i keep thinking about all the money one of my sisters is gonna owe.....

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maldita-timides · 6 years

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There's nothing like having satisfied customers, but if they're satisfied, then let's have 'em tell us in their own words.

Ah...the beauty of testimonials.

Some window washers might be a bit shy or hesitant asking their customers to say good things about 'em, so one of the easiest ways to secure plenty of testimonials is to send out a "testimonial request" letter to your customers.

Below, I've included the one I used over the years, but before getting to that, let me explain all the ways testimonials can be used to your advantage.

It's OK when you say great stuff about you in your marketing materials but if you can include some additional 3rd party endorsements of you and your service, now you have a marketing piece that really stands out and is much more credible.

For example...If you have a display ad running in a subdivision's newsletter, always make sure that there is at least one testimonial posted within the ad. And if you can post a testimonial from someone who lives in that subdivision, that's even better.

This really, really works. In one subdivision I was advertising in, I happened to clean the windows of the newsletter's editor. He loved the window cleaning job I did so he was glad to provide me a testimonial.

Everyone in the subdivision knew him and his wife, so as soon as I inserted that testimonial into the ad, believability went way up, and so did my phone calls. Which of course resulted in more business. That's just one subdivision.

If you are able to secure testimonials within a subdivision you're advertising in and use them on your marketing pieces (postcards, flyers, ads, etc, obviously not everyone will be familiar with the person who gave you the testimonial so it's important that you place the subdivision's name under the person's name who provided you the testimonial.

At least this way if the testimonial giver's name isn't recognized, the subdivision's name will be. Anything you can do to lower a prospect's wall of resistance is a definite plus.

Some marketers debate whether an unsolicited testimonial is better than a solicited one.

I personally believe as long as it's a true representation of how your customer feels, what difference does it make? Who cares whether they voluntarily sent you a testimonial or you asked for it?

But...even though your customers will be all excited after the window washing job is done because they have clean windows, chances of them taking the time and going out of their way to send you anything is slim to none. They're busy folks. So you HAVE to ask. And you also need to make it as easy as pie for them.

That brings me to my testimonial request letter I always used when asking for testimonials from customers. Here it is:

Dear Mark and Julie:

Once again I wanted to express my appreciation for your business. Would you kindly take a moment and provide me your opinion of my window cleaning service and the job I did on your windows?

We strive for 100% perfection so your opinions are truly valuable to me.

And can I have permission to use your comments to show other people that they can feel comfortable in using my service?

I've provided a space below for your comments and have enclosed a self-addressed stamped envelope for your convenience.

Have a great day and I'll see you at your next cleaning. Take care.

Sincerely,

Steve Wright

Sparkly Clear Window Washing Service

Comments:

____________________________________________________

Name:___________________________

Let's talk about how best to present this and some other things you need to know in order to make this process work effectively.

When requesting a testimonial, it shouldn't be mixed up with the thank you letter (talked about in my manual How to Start Your Own Residential Window Washing Business) you're supposed to send when the job is completed. I mean you don't want to send out the thank you letter and then within that letter say "Oh, by the way...would you mind providing me a testimonial?" No.

Here's how it should go:

You've done the job and the customer is pleased. You go home and send her the thank you letter. About 2 to 3 days after you've sent off the thank you letter, send her a request to write you a little blurb about your service. Use the wording above or use your own wording.

Make sure it's on your letterhead, and enclose a folded up, self addressed, stamped envelope for them to use so they can easily jot their comments down and send 'em back to you.

Again...you have to make it easy and hassle free or no one is going to bother to take the time. They may like you and your window washing service, but they're generally not going to work that hard at making sure you have a testimonial if they have to run through too many hoops. Lastly, include your business card within your "testimonial request" mailing.

Personalize the letter. Also, notice in the request above how I ask for their opinion? That's the key. People love to give opinions. So don't ask for a "testimonial". Ask for their "opinion". And always ask for permission to use their comments also.

If you do this regularly for each and every customer you clean windows for, you'll have a steady stream of testimonials coming to your mailbox all the time.

One thing you may even consider doing is compiling your testimonials together and providing them to prospects along with your estimate package you give them after you do your window washing estimate. I talk more about how to properly set up your estimate package/proposal in my manual, but imagine how powerful that would be when your prospect is rifling through your estimate proposal and they see numerous references with phone numbers along with 20, 30, 40, or more testimonials. Do you think your competitors are doing this? No Way.

And whenever you use a testimonial, make sure you don't ruin it by placing only the customer's initials underneath it. That's as good as worthless so you may as well not use it. If a customer wants to remain anonymous, then throw their comments away because they won't do you any good at all.

If you have the room within the ad where testimonials are being used (like on a web page), it's a good idea to have a statement under all testimonials that says something like this: "All the customer statements above are on file at the offices of xxxxxx Window Washing Service."

People are pretty cynical these days so by posting a customer's full name along with the subdivision where they live, in addition to the above statement (if you're able to), you can squash the prospect's doubts whether the testimonials are real or not.

That's it. A very non-threatening process and letter simply asking for a customer's opinion. If they liked your window washing service and are overjoyed with having clean windows, you should receive many, many testimonials. The more the merrier. And don't hesitate to use 'em to bring in more business.

Happy Cleaning,

Steve Wright is the author of How to Start Your Own Residential Window Washing Business, and has started hundreds of individuals on the path to success in their own window washing business as evidenced by reading what some of his students have said here. Mr. Wright has also developed a revolutionary online web-based system called The Customer Factor to assist all window washing business owners in maintaining and growing a successful business. Using both of these resources provides the one-two punch needed to catapult anyone from zero to six figures per year in the window washing business. For more information, give Mr. Wright a call at 256-546-2446 or visit either of the websites posted.

Article Source: https://EzineArticles.com/expert/Steve_Wright/6268

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/92431

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