#Doro observes

[doros-artchive]

ink on paper - 2020

[skyeeuphixia]

𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚋𝚢 // 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎

Thomas Shelby x lover oc (dorothy)

in which tommy comes home to sights worse than war

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warning/s: mentions of war

words: 2.5k

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If there was one constant in Tommy's life, it was his girl. Dorothy.

Through all his hardships, she was right there by his side. The two of them were like something out of a storybook, they were always in their little world as if they were constantly walking through a serene forest specifically crafted for them, rather than the smoky streets of small heath. When she was around, nothing else mattered to him. 

From the first day he met her, he was captivated by her, and no matter how many times his brothers or Aunt Polly rolled their eyes or teased him for saying so, he knew he'd marry her one day.

•°• ⚠ •°•

June, 1897

"You alright?" A young boy asks, standing close to her. 

Dorothy was walking home from school, her pristine braided plaits bouncing as she walked. She was looking down at her feet as she walked, something her mother often yelled at her about as it would 'ruin her posture'. Her mind was filled with the little symphonies she constantly composed, melodies meant to drown out the relentless clatter of the factories meaning she didn't hear the sound of speeding footsteps running toward her.

Suddenly someone barrelled into her shoulder harshly, causing her to tumble to the ground. Her eyes cloud with tears as she feels the harsh sting of her hands and knees colliding with the cobblestones. The person who collided with her didn't even look back, but it was the person who was chasing him that stopped. 

Dorothy looked up to be met with the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, they were so hypnotizing that she almost forgot what he asked her. 

She wiped her eyes as she was adamant that she doesn't cry in front of people. She huffed as she sat up, mumbling, "What do you think?"

The boy holds his hand out to Dorothy, which she begrudgingly takes and he pulls her to her feet.

"You're bleeding'" He observes, looking at her grazed hands and scraped knees. 

"Oh well spotted," she snaps slightly.

"Hey, I wasn't the one that pushed ya. That was Freddie you should be mad at him," He points out, once again she just pouts and huffs slightly. He takes her hand, or more so he holds onto her fingers to avoid touching the scrapes on her palm and hurting her further, and her begins walking with purpose.

"What are you doing?" Dorothy asks, trying to pull her hand away, but his calloused hand is stronger than hers.

"I'm Thomas Shelby, by the way," the boy introduced himself, without looking up from his task.

He didn't say anything and something in her just told her to trust him, so she went with him willingly. He pulled her towards the cut. Once they arrive, he sits her down on a small chunk wall. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, dipping it into the water. Once satisfied he walks back up to her and kneels in front of her, gently padding the handkerchief against her knee, wiping away the dirt and blood. 

Dorothy winced, and each time he softened his touch, as if he were learning how to be gentler.

"Dorothy Hawthorne," she mumbled shyly.

"That's a long name...I'll call ya Dottie," He decided, as he moved to wipe her hands.

"I'd prefer if you didn't," 

"Too late, Dottie it is,"  he replied, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

•°• ⚠ •°•

From that moment onwards, Tommy was infatuated with 'his Dottie'. He started going to school more often to catch a glimpse of her, he would even ditch his brothers to be around her, it was quite annoying in Dorothy's opinion. But over the years, and as he refused to leave her alone, she decided to give the boy a chance and pretty soon they were best friends in every sense of the word. 

"I don't need you to be anyone, other than who you are Tommy," she'd say, running her fingers through his hair as they lay in the grass, heads tilted towards the sky.

Dorothy and Tommy couldn't pinpoint when the line between friends and love began to blur, but by the time they were 15, there was no doubt they were in love. To Tommy, Dorothy was the light that made his life a little less grim. With her soft red curls that always perfectly caught the sun and her eyes that shone with optimism that no one in the dreary city shared, she truly was everything Tommy thought he didn't deserve.

Dorothy had this way of making Tommy feel genuinely seen and heard. They would take regular walks around the canal and to the nearby fields, hand in hand where she would listen to him with a patience that no one else gave him. He would ramble on, he'd rant, and, being quite the dreamer back then, share his grand plans of rising above it all, of making a name for himself. And Dorothy, always with that quiet belief in him, never doubted that he would.

"Always know how to ground me, eh Dot?"

"Don't call me that,"

When everything in his life went wrong, it was Dorothy he ran to.As long as she was around, Tommy could smile, laugh, and joke, like nothing else mattered. He was always longing for the feeling of her arms thrown around his neck as they looked at each other longingly. She was his anchor, his constant—his safe place in a world that often felt too harsh.

But when the war came, it shattered the fantasy they had built together. They were ripped from the little world they had created, and everything changed. Tommy could still remember, with painful clarity, the day he told her he was leaving. And even more vividly, the day he left.

•°• ⚠ •°•

August, 1914

"Talk to me, Thomas," she whispers, her voice cutting through the silence.

The sky hung low and heavy across Birmingham, with thick clouds threatening to rain and a cool breeze in the air carrying the last whispers of summer with it. They were once again in the field, both sat under a tree. Their tree. 

Tommy was laid back on his hands while Dorothy lay beside him, her head resting on his chest. Her fingers delicately trailed along his shirt, and for a while, the world felt calm. But Dorothy could feel it in how quiet he was and the way he held her, that something was wrong.

He didn't reply to her at first, his gaze remaining out on the sky. The tension in the 24-year-old's jaw was visible, and eventually, his blue eyes met hers, clouded with emotion that Dorothy hadn't seen in him before, "I enlisted, in the war. My brothers and I leave in a few days,"

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Dorothy's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. She had known, of course, that this day might come. Everyone in Small Heath had been talking about the war for weeks now, the rumors, the uncertainty. But hearing it from Tommy—her Tommy—made it all too real.

"A few days?" She whispers, her breath catching in her throat, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Tommy you...you can't, there must be something-"

"Dottie," He interrupts, his hand coming up to hold hers, his eyes softening, "I have to. It's happening, I have no choice"

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of him. Instead, she tried to be strong, tried to smile the way she always did when the world felt too heavy. “Then I’ll come with you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll wait for you, wherever you are.”

Tommy gave a sad chuckle, shaking his head. "You know you can't love."

“I can,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice growing with every word. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Tommy. You know that. I don’t care where it is.”

Without saying a word, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her like he could shield her from the storm that was coming. She buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, clinging to the moment, knowing it was slipping through her fingers.

"You'll wait for me here," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. "And I'll come back. I promise."

•°• ⚠ •°•

The train station had never been busier than the day that they left. Part of Dorothy prayed Tommy would get stuck in the crowd and miss the train by some miracle, but it seemed that God had too many prayers to answer that day, before she knew it, he was in front of her, holding her tightly for what felt like the last time.

"You better come back" she whispers.

"You know I will," he whispers back, his voice fighting to remain steady. The whistle of the train pirces through the station and with one last squeeze, Tommy let her go, running toward the train. The platform was flooded with women and children, waving tearful goodbyes to husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. Dorothy stood frozen among them, her heart in her throat as she watched him leave.

Tommy stuck his torso out the narrow compartment window, a boyish grin on his face despite everything, his brothers laughing at him from behind. Dorothy rushed to him, her hands gripping the window’s edge as she stood on her toes, catching his lips in a desperate, emotional kiss.

"We'll be back by Christmas, Dottie,"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" She chokes out.

"At least one more," he chuckles, his hand reached for her cheek, lingering for just a moment longer, before the train began to pull away, taking him from her.

•°• ⚠ •°•

But they weren't home by Christmas, Four long, torturous years passed, and with each one, Tommy lost a part of himself. The war had stripped him bare—his smile faded, his jokes became rare, and his laugh was carried away on the bitter winds of France. The man who had once been full of life felt like a shadow of himself. 

However there was the occassional glimps of light amidst the chaos. Everytime a letter from Dorothy arrived, a flicker of his old self returned and for a brief moment he could smile again. He kept every single letter she sent, tucked safely in the pocket of his uniform—right over his heart, the only thing still capable of keeping him grounded in the hell they were living through. 

Feeling them was his only motivation to keep going.

He had promised her he'd come back for her.

Over time, the letters became less and less frequent, but that didn't come as a surprise to Tommy. There wasn't much for him to tell her, what was there to say when everyday was filled with dirt and death? And Dorothy...had already used all variations of words in the English dictionary to say she loved him.

"You better come back" she had said.

Eventually, the day came that he could go home. His brothers were engaged in a deep conversation about home, while Tommy looked out the window at the rolling fields, but he wasn't really seeing them. His thoughts were miles away, buried deep in the trenches of France, where everything had been consumed by mud, blood, and fire. Sure the war was over now, but it clung to him, a shadow that refused to lift.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting the hat pulled low over his eyes as if the familiar flat cap could shield him from the memories clawing at the edges of his mind. The trenches had been hell, but it wasn't the mud or the screams that haunted him most...it was the silence. The silence that stretched on when the gunfire stopped when the dead lay still, and all he had left were his thoughts. And his thoughts always went back to Dorothy.

And he had promised. He had told her he would come back. But the Tommy who had made that promise...that boy...was gone. The war had taken him, just like it had taken everything else.

Once they arrived at Small Heath, John, and Arthur wasted no time going to the Garrison, but Tommy just wanted to see his girl. The streets were the same, but they felt different—empty in a way they hadn't before, but something gnawed at him, a sense that the world he had left wasn't quite the same one he had come back to.

It wasn't until he saw the posters that the dread set in.

His Dottie's face was on every wall, lamppost, and window. Her name in big bold letters:

MISSING, DOROTHY HAWTHORNE

Dorothy's bright smile stared back at him, but it was a mockery now, surrounded by a message that chilled his bones. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the poster as though it couldn't possibly be real. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, but all he could do was stand there, frozen.

When the words sunk in, he ripped the poster of the wall, crumpling it in his fist, before shoving it into his pocket. Without a second thought, he marched straight to the old betting den, his heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and rage. The moment he burst through the door, his eyes found his Aunt Polly. She barely had time to acknowledge him before he slammed the poster down on the table in front of her.

"How long?" His voice sharp, like a knife ready to cut thriugh whatever lies had been kept from him.

Polly looked up at him, and for the first time, Tommy saw the deep sadness in her eyes, the kind that spoke of years spent carrying the weight of a world no one else could understand. It seemed like she had been holding it all together for far too long.

"Just over ten months now," her voice quiet almost like she was bracing for a storm.

"10 months...10 MONTHS! AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO TELL ME?!" He raged, smashing one of the glasses on the table. Polly knew that Tommy had a temper, he was bound to inherit something from his father, but this was anger she hadn't seen from him. The war had made him harder, darker, and she had a sinking feeling this kind of fury might become a new part of him.

"You were at war Thomas, facing god knows what. We didn't want to give you a reason to go out and get yourself killed," 

Thomas couldn't bare to listen to another word, storming out of the house towards their field, their sacred place. The same picture of him mocked him the whole way there. But when he got there, it was no longer the sactuary that he remembered. The wildflowers were gone, wilted and forgotten. The birds that once filled the air with song were silent. The sky above was a dull, lifeless grey, and the entire world felt void of her, as if she had taken all the light with her when she left.

Her name caught in his throat, a whisper at first, then a desperate cry torn from his chest.

“DOTTIE!”

His voice echoed through the empty field, but it brought no comfort, no answer...just the sound of it fading into the wind, as hollow and lost as he felt.

•°• ⚠ •°•

(fin)

part 2?

[mariacallous]

My #BLEWISH ancestry shows up in different ways. My maternal DNA is Ashkenazi-Russian Jewish. On the paternal side, like many African Americans, my ancestors are a swirl of Black, Native American, and European White — largely German, though I don’t know how much of that was added to the mix consensually.

Rosalyn and Kelly, my parents, were married in Seattle, Washington long before the Supreme Court made unions like theirs fully legal throughout the United States. But unlike many interracial couples, they grew up together during the Depression in North Minneapolis, where Black people and Jewish people were “allowed” to live side by side.

My parents divorced when I was two, just before my younger brother was born. Mom raised us in the very diverse Central Area of Seattle, which (pre-gentrification) was where many Black and Asian people resided.

My mother was proud of her Jewish heritage. While she wasn’t religiously observant, she did send my brother and I to Hebrew school. “I want you to learn about my people’s history, culture, and beliefs,” she explained.

Food was my mother’s love language and a form of spiritual expression. Everything from the simplest dishes to elaborate meals were always cooked to perfection. Most Sundays, she turned out a soul food feast with chicken (baked, not fried), collard greens, candied yams, rice, and often black-eyed peas. Sometimes she even threw in a sweet potato pie. My father had tutored her in creating these delicacies during their years together.

When it came to traditional Jewish dishes, she didn’t cook many, though she’d rhapsodize about her mother’s knishes, rugelach, and schmaltz. But she was serious about her chicken soup. She cooked it old school: a whole chicken, plump chunks of carrots, silvered slices of celery, and plenty of “nature’s antibiotics:” onion and garlic. Sometimes she added noodles; other times, rice. One thing was certain: Mom’s chicken soup was a powerful healing elixir for body, mind, spirit, and soul. And true to form, she whipped some up and administered it at the first sign of any illness.

My approach to cooking is more serviceable than spiritual, and I don’t have my mom’s gift for making everything flawless. But I have carried on the traditions of two cherished dishes: collard greens and chicken soup. My now-grown son and daughter request and expect collard greens for every holiday meal, and they grew up eating chicken soup as a cure-all. Their adult palates are more vegetarian–vegan, so the chicken soup tradition might well end with my generation. But the spirit of healing chicken soup lives on in spirit and memory. Who knows, maybe they’ll come up with a non-poultry option.

Every New Year’s Eve, my mother cooked collards and black-eyed peas, and made sure we all ate at least a little before midnight. “The greens are for money, and the peas for good luck,” she’d remind us. I didn’t realize how deeply this was rooted in African American tradition until I moved to the South.

I thought all the mothers of Mixed-Black children were experts at preparing soul food. It wasn’t until I was grown that I realized how extraordinary my mother was. As my brother and I brought people from different places into our multicultural home, I watched in amazement as she mastered their traditional dishes as well from lumpia and adobo for my brother’s Filipina girlfriend to berbere and Doro Wot for my Ethiopian beau.

My mother’s eclectic approach to culinary expression taught me a lot about being from a mixed-race background. Her kitchen was a living laboratory of what we now call diversity. She learned and then produced the dishes from different cultures with reverence and seasoned them with love. They mirrored her approach to people and life: open-minded and open-hearted with a hearty appreciation for the cultural spice of life.

Unlike my late mother, I normally take shortcuts in the kitchen. But chicken soup and collard greens are sacred, and require elaborate rituals, often taking a couple of days. I clear my counters and my schedule, and savor the opportunity to commune with my parents and to reflect on the paths of their ancestors that brought them together in a rule-breaking love with the audacity to produce children who were destined to live outside the lines.

And when I place small amounts of those special dishes upon my ancestral altar, I give special thanks for the vision, heart, and culinary prowess of a mama who spoke — and cooked — Yiddish and jazz.*

Note: Use your favorite seasonings to flavor your greens. Lawry’s Seasoning Salt is popular and Seasonest (sold in Whole Foods and online) is a Black family-owned alternative with all-natural ingredients.

*I borrowed the phrase, “a mother who speaks Yiddish and jazz” from my #BLEWISH sister-author Lisa Jones and her wonderful book “Bulletproof Diva“.  

Make sure to Check out TaRessa Stovall’s most recent book “Swirl Girl: Coming of Race in the USA“.

[mothboypoison]

pls i wanna know abt drhdr fight club, is it doro AS figh club or is it like underground boxing??

God this one is such a bare-bones idea I don't know how I started writing it without an outline. I'd like to finish it one day. It would probably be a couple of chapters.

The premise is that the baseball field in Hole gets closed so to keep themselves entertained, Vaux and Kasukabe open a fight club. Vaux gets to make bets and Kasukabe gets to do research. There's no magic allowed and they convince a bunch of sorcerers to take part. Dokuga and Tetsujo don't want to enter. Then Dokuga learns that Shin is entering and he decides to enter so he can have a rematch after he lost to him when they fought at Kai's apartment.

I don't know where it was going to go from there. I was gonna have Dokuga lose the fight lol. And 'cause Noi would be on standby for healing she could befriend Tetsujo and talk about feelings or whatever. And then Dokuga and Tetsujo would fuck. Of course. I wanna finish it one day but god it needs an actual outline. Here's an excerpt:

“Don’t you think it’s just fascinating, though? They’re built to use magic. I want to see how they fare when they don’t have it. The very thing they depend on—” his grin takes on a dreamy quality and Vaux grimaces in distaste. “It would be truly educational to witness.” “We know how they fare,” points out Vaux, still entertaining this for some bizarre reason. The disruption to his routine must already be getting to him. “When they don’t have access to magic, the Cross-Eyes kill them. It’s happened already, Professor.”   “Not in a controlled environment!” Kasukabe says. “That’s what I’d like to do. Haru could provide me with a location in the magic user world, and I could observe what happens. Volunteers only, of course.” “Of course.” “So, will you help? We could do it on the days we had baseball practise. You might even enjoy yourself, Vaux!” Kasukabe laughs. “Absolutely not, I—” but he stops himself as he begins to actually think it through. Haru will get them a location – an arena – and volunteers will sign up to fight each other without magic. Presumably not to the death. Kasukabe was describing it as an experiment but to Vaux it seems almost like a sport. He supposes it’ll keep him sufficiently entertained. “Well?” Kasukabe says, a smirk on his face like he knows he’s won. “Fine,” Vaux sighs. “It could be fun, I suppose. I’m in.”

Sorry this answer is long as hell lol

[pamenan]

,, IMPORTANT NEWS "

~~~ ▪ ~~~

CULIK WEARING HOPES TO BE A LION FINALLY BECOMES A CHINA COMMUNIST CHINA

----------

Messenger of the Peopleh: Government observer considers seeing from the way the behavior of the behavior of the child's childhood behavior is soo Ming TauW Chinese Communist President of the State of Indonesia, which is in the same level of this dog. His biological mother's president of the dog's dick named Doro Meri Siregar has been bunting first Soo Ming TauW Communist Chinese before marriage. Because it is affected Doro Meri Siregar With Soo Ming's Money Forest Unique Communist People So Double Dora Doro Pants and Pants Color Doro Meri Siregar See Soo Ming's Money Sheets Communist China. The President of the Communist Chinese Children's Dog Dick Cock As a killer killer killing children of the Indonesian children for the width granted the President of Suharto Dog.

The chinese children's dog furniture made kidnapping the murder of the Indonesian children, because the dog Suharto gave a reward of the puki hole in the point of Suharto female sluts as a child Suharto Dog, Hole Puki Suharto Point for Land Fucked by the Subianto President of the President Dick This Dog. Furniture Subianto President Dick This dog wears and hopes that after he becomes the president of his constitution will be more fierce and more wild than the attitude of Suhato dogs who carry out jungle law regulations in the country of Indonesia. It didn't know the dick of this dog, it would have been a lion finally became a dog of ringworm as a china of communist, even though he was said to be the Indonesian child to be a featherman. It turned out that the more dogs from the Taik-eating dog who used to commit crimes could not change to do the good of the children of Chinese children.

The presidential dick of Chinese children's dick is a lot of stealing my money in the government, so I can get the Chinese children's dog, because I love my money he doesn't want to return to me while I'm not forceful by the evil deeds of Chinese children's children. The Chinese Children's Subianto furniture was wrong with this fart thought that the money was stolen by the money from the results of the pussy of Doro Meri Siregar, his biological mother of furniture sold in an Oberal into a female prostitute to take turns in turn. And the subianto furniture is the Chinese child of the dog, there are a lot of stealing the country's land belonging to the people. I don't know when Soo Ming Taw Taw Furniture China descendants from the water of the dog's sepirima carrying land from China to come to Indonesia. The basis of your biological mother's prostitute your father China Dogs, then the puppy is born with a kind of dog because of the origin of your descendants of the subianto of the seeds of the dog's water sepirima. - Editor by The Best Journalis MKN. Online Profile R. Pamenan.

[kafkaoftherubble]

Pros:

scientist

doll rescuer

doll friend

judging from how she notices an abandoned doll and a somewhat abandoned person, observant

afford said abandoned people with her companionship

evolved from a long line of complicated people originating from a messed up individual and her complicated pet-tumor

has a name that means "mud". No grand and gorgeous and even "crystal clear water"-esque name. Just "mud."

Cons:

Don't know the full scope of her personality yet

I should not be showing favoritism yet I shall nat I SHALL NAT NOPE NOPE INVEST IN 32 DORO STOCKS!

-----

More Thoughts on the Mud Naming (i.e. why I love that she's called Doro):

Though not as grand or sweet or beautiful a name as, say, "Mizuha" and other water-related names in the Hayase bloodline, "Doro" is a name that, to me, is the most implicative of growth.

Of course, it's because I'm once again seeing this in a Buddhist view (Look, it's usually either this or The Scientist's view, man. You know what you signed up for when you read a ramble by KafkaoftheRubble, brutha.).

It's got to do with the lotus flower.

Lotuses are cherished in Indian religions and philosophy; Buddhism is one of them. It persists even after spreading to East Asia and other parts of the world.

The simplest reasoning is captured in an 11th-century (Song Dynasty) Chinese writer's text:

[...] 予独爱莲之出淤泥而不染——"I, however, especially love the lotus; for it grows from the mud untainted." (translation mine)

In Buddhism, the lotus symbolizes nibbana/nirvana/liberation (though also commonly translated as "enlightenment" in English). The mud symbolizes samsara—the cycle of suffering.

Buddhism stresses a lot on causal determinism. Everything is caused by something prior... not a chain of cause and effects, but a web. Nothing exists in a vacuum—not even something as "transcendent" as Nibbana. Hence, the mud is very important: the lotus flower, so "enlightened" as it were, cannot have arisen without the mud that sustained it.

In other words, enlightenment is caused by one who knows intimately what suffering is. One who is embedded in it. Suffering allows one to be awake and strive toward enlightenment and liberation.

There's a reason why in Buddhist thought, the human path [1] is the likeliest path to nibbana compared even to the Deva path. The Devas live in nice-ass places (comparable to heavens in other religions/myths), enjoy long-ass, nigh-immortal lives, and experience almost zero suffering. And yet it is precisely because of this minimal-to-no suffering that the Devas cannot become enlightened—they live in such comfort that they either mistakenly believe this is what life is all about, or that they experience zero impetus to strive for better.

[1] The human path, in comparison, has both shares of suffering and moments of comfort and pleasure. The latter is important because if one is constantly suffering, they cannot focus on anything beyond their pain... nor can they perform salutary actions (think how limited the moral choices would be for a person who's desperate and in pain). And yet, since the existence of suffering is also important if one hopes to be awake, the human path is the Middle Path among all Six Paths of Rebirth.

This is why I like Doro's name. Though a clone of Mizuha, strictly speaking, she can be considered as a rebirth of Hayase still. To me, her name hints at a humility and awareness the previous rebirths' names didn't imply. It's as if after so many rebirths and the cumulative growth contributed by each, "Hayase" is finally cognizant of "the mud" they are in.

And from the mud, a lotus may grow, liberated at last.

-

Thank you for reading my semi-ramble that I did not plan but came out of me anyway! Sidethoughts in tags!

i've only known her for one chapter and i'd die for her 🥺

[temixart]

get it here

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[xinambercladx]

Cad Bane is so difficult to draw with his alien noggin'. I often have to refresh my knowledge of his bizarre dimensions. These are observational copies from various screenshots from the shows (The Clone Wars and Bad Batch). Maybe these sketches will help other artists understand his ridiculous (but gorgeous) bone structure. His forehead is very round. Just draw a large ball, tbh. It has 3 wrinkle lines that make an M shape. Those brow bones in particular, wtf. They're also equi-distant as the nasal bridge. Why yes, I do draw pupils at first. Then I promptly erase them. Pupils change the shape of the eye lids because they protrude just a bit further out than the rest of the eye. Although some Doros have slit pupils, Cad Bane doesn't in either cartoon or live action versions. ------------------------------------------------------- xInAmberCladx's Fanart Archive <-link

[screeching-0wl]

Hi, it's me again✨

I was thinking about your post of Names in Ancient Greece and I was curious about what's the theophorical name of Hekate? I was searching but I only found the name of "Hekatomnas", but I'm not sure about the meaning and I didn't find anything else.

Blessings 🔮✨

Hello! Let's talk about theophoric names for Hekate then!

Here is the mentioned post about names in Ancient Greece for anyone wondering

Names could be derived from gods of all types, with some exceptions, such as the gods of the Underworld who were generally avoided, possibly out of fear.

Contrary to other chthonic deities, like Hades/Plouton and Persephone/Kore, theophoric names derived from Hekate have been observed in some parts of the ancient world. Hekate names were frequent in places of cults of the goddess, likewise where cults were rare, so were the names. Although as Robert Parker suggested in the publication called Theophoric Names and the History of Greek Religion, "it seems to follow that Hekate cannot have had her grimmest aspect in those regions where Hekat- names are common."

Hekatomnas is one of the masculine names derived from Hekate. Others could include:

Hekatomnos [m] (alternative of Hekatomnas; -omnos - possibly from ὄμνυμι, "to swear")

Hekataios [m]

Hekatios [m]

Hekataia [f]

Hekatea [f]

Hekatais [m]

Hekatas [m]

Hekatodoros [m] (-doros - from δῶρον, "gift")

Hekatokles [m] (-kles - from κλέος, "glory")

Hekatonymos [m] (-nymos - from ὄνυμα, "name")

Hope this helps!

[hapigairu]

Yeah, it’s something a lot of people (or... Edelstans, I should say?) conveniently seem to forget. Dimitri has been through hell and lived in abject poverty for five years. If there’s anyone among the lords who’d understand the poor people’s plight, it’s him. But “man pain” yadda yadda yadda, I guess.

Also, it’s worth noting that when Dimitri visits these poor areas, he doesn’t even announce himself as the King. People always think he’s just a knight. And I think that’s a big thing, because if they knew they were talking to the King, they’d be probably less honest or they’d be for wary (cause they might be scared of any possible consequences if they complain or whatever, and I wouldn’t blame them after the whole Rufus circus). And it’s not like he goes out of his way to hide his identity either, he just... goes to see them and helps them out while observing how they live. Another that is important (IMO, at least) is that the way nobility functions in Faerghus is quite different from Adrestia. In Adrestia, nobles live in the capital whereas in Faerghus, they live in their respective territories. So that means, Faerghus nobles would be more directly aware of any big issue in their territories. And it shows, especially with Ingrid. She is painfully aware how poor her lands are and how much her people are at risk of starvation, and even her family is considered poor (by noble standards lol but still). If she was living in Adrestia, chances are she’d be kinda unaware of it and be able to enjoy her life in Enbarr without thinking too much about her people. (granted, Adrestia doesn’t have crop-related issues)

You can also see that with Sylvain who, for all his philandering and his “don’t mind me, I’m just a good-for-nothing” attitude, is a very dependable person and is always here when it counts. Felix too. In his 3H paralogue, he shows a sense of responsibility towards his people. Same with Baron Dominic who has to navigate a very complicated situation because he’s that committed to his people.

Among the Adrestian nobles, I think the only one who takes his duties seriously is Ferdinand? But in general, there’s much less talk about the commoners’ quality of life and whatnot, I feel.

Not to mention that, uh... being poor in Adrestia seems to suck even more than in Faerghus. In Faerghus, poor people can turn to charity (which isn’t much and a welfare will always be better, but it’s something). We know from Doro that when she was living on the streets, not only did she had to survive without charity (Church bad, why did they let the emperor kick the out, amirite?), but nobles mistreated her for... being poor and not having a roof under her head. I can easily imagine them thinking that these poor people living on the streets put a big stain on the capital’s beauty, instead of being a freaking compassionate person and think that there’s something wrong with the way these people are treated and that it should be changed. (maybe I’m remembering Doro’s supports wrong, so do feel free to correct me!)

And yeah, there are so many people who end up making bad choices after bad choices because of their environment in their childhood. So punishing them without understand where they come from is... unproductive at best and dangerous at worst. But then again, I’m very much pro-restorative justice. And true, with the exception of Miklan, he’d be willing to give a third, fourth chance (with caveats such as jail time, like you said), because, well, it’s not that easy to change and get better and you need some time to forget your old reflexes and instincts.

Yes, that’s what I meant by tunnel vision. She’s so focused on one thing (uniting Fodlan) that she doesn’t think of what she actually wants to do in practicality. Like... you start a war to change the “world” but you make a Pikachu face when your future Prime Minister (whatever power this title actually gives him post-CF) gives you some basic ideas?

But that’s just one reason why I can’t get behind her. Beyond the obvious bloodbath she created with her war, the little ideas we get for how she envisions society is just... not what I’d personally like. First, it seems power is concentrated around her and only her. And  in Japanese (in the parley scene) she says that if people are still weak then that’s just because they’re spoiled, which is bonkers. Imagine someone with, say, ADHD: they’re bright, are talented in some areas and have a lot of potential in general but because they have ADHD they struggle to function as well as a neurotypical person without proper support. What would they become in Edel’s society? Would the government consider that they have not enough merit to take the imperial exams or enter the imperial academy (if there’s one in the future)? Needing support because you have a condition or a disability (physical or mental) isn’t a bad thing, it’s just... a necessary thing and it doesn’t make you spoiled. And before someone says “but she was talking about religion”: so what if people need religion to carry on? What is the problem with that? Anywho, it seems to me like she this “if I can do it, why can’t others” kind of mindset sometimes...

I don’t think it’s faulty at all to ask for a second opinion as long as it doesn’t cloud your own judgement when the time of making the decision comes. It’s always a good thing to get different points of view, cause he could have a blind spot about something and talking to Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, Ashe, Dedue, etc could help him get a broader perspective. Damn it, I forgot about Matthias dying. No matter the route, there’s always a Gautier dying... It would have been interesting to have a last cutscene in the western front at the end of GW (I think that’s where Felix and probably Dimitri, Sylvain, etc were heading) not because GW’s plot can be saved, but because we’d seen Miklan react to Matthias’ death, Sylvain’s new title etc. It’s sad that most of the best content in GW involves the Blue Lions and not the Golden Deer, but it is what it is.

(Also, I bloody loathe GW chapter 11 and 12. Like... no game, I don’t want to invade Fraldarius territory and attack my boys Ashe, Felix and Rodrigue and kill Matthias only to have Clod blame his death on “muh chivalry” and “it occurred to me that as long as we’re fighting the kingdom, there’ll be more death”. Oh, it just occurred to you that invading people who didn’t do anything to you will lead to more death? Don’t blame this on Faerghus, you attacked first, the blood is in your hands, not theirs. The smaller missions’ descriptions are infuriating as well: there’s one where you have to “do what the Kingdom couldn’t and rout the bandits”. I’m sorry, why does the game blame the Kingdom for not being able to deal with bandits when they’re fighting a three-front war and treating Clod’s intervention as a good thing? Sure, it’s good to stop bandits, but maybe the Kingdom could have dealt with them, had Clod not invaded the Kingdom in the first place? And Hilda who around the end is like “if the Kingdom and Empire don’t stop fighting, I’ll make them stop!” like we’re talking about some row between toddlers. Hilda, the Empire killed many Kingdom citizens and isn’t ready to stop until it’s annexed. You killed several (very charitable estimation) Kingdom citizens yourself. A scolding isn’t going to cut it and you should know better. Phew, sorry, rant over)

Yes, and we see Dimitri implement his reforms at his own pace, both Felix and Sylvain maturing. And overall, you really get to feel that things are moving forward. I agree with what you said about AG! (surprisingly lol) I might have a few gripes with the story though. I wish we’d learn more about Lambert’s reforms mostly because Baron Dominic said to have been troubled by some aspect of his reign, so... yeah. But I can see the western lords (bar Dominic) being unhappy about Lambert’s attempts at friendship with Duscur, since it said to be rich in precious minerals. It’s possible the western lords thought it’d be more lucrative to annex Duscur or at least force them to sign some manner of unequal treaty than trading with them. But yeah, otherwise Idk. And... I think I have another minor problem with the story, but I forgot lol If it comes back to mind, I’ll edit my post or add it in a later one! Felix after Dimitri tells him what happened in Zahras: Why can’t you say BS like a normal person? I swear, you’re exhausting...

Doromitri would have been interesting for sure! I can imagine it start with her seeing Dimitri go to a town’s slum and wondering why a King of all people would do. She’d learn more about nobility in Faerghus and he’d learn more about how poverty is “dealt with” in Adrestia. There are most certainly better ideas for a support chain between them, but regardless, it has so much more potential than... almost any support with Bernadetta, tbh

Yup, basically the fact that in AG it’s clearly acknowledged that nobody is really at fault (except for, y’know, the war and all) and that it’s a complicated situation is because AG had to be mature enough to compensate both SB and GW.

Exactly, sometimes changes are necessary for various reasons, but it should never come at the cost of the original version’s meaning. If a character says A, then the localisation should reflect that and not turn it into “AB” or some other nonsense.

Ah, so basically you found a way to dispose of that unification of Fodlan nonsense without changing the core of the story! I mean, anything that involves the three countries remaining independent of each other is based in my book. No matter what some, uh, stans would have you believe, 3H is not Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Faerghus, Leicester and Adrestia aren’t at war with each other (until Edel’s war, ofc) and they all developed their own culture. (even if it’s mostly true of Faerghus)

But yeah, I like your ideas! Not wanting to control all of Fodlan and wanting to concentrate on making Faerghus better is a very Dimitri thing, IMO. And I’m sure there’s potential to write extremely interesting dialogue with Dimitri, Ferdinand, Lorenz and Yuri, considering each’s responsibility!

There’s just one big problem for me though.... After AG, I’ve been spoiled and I can’t imagine an ending without Rodrigue being alive and doing what he does best :(

That’s true, Dimitri is a very interesting lord and more delicate that one would expect from such a “sack of muscles”. And he is indeed surrounded by very competent and dependable allies! I guess I wish we’d see him delegating his work a bit more by the time Part 2 happens? Still, that’s something I can imagine him doing post-AG, making his work more efficient.

To some extend, I can kind of understand Petra’s devotion (or at least appreciation) to Edelgard? She was sent to the Empire at age 10 and was basically treated like she was some kind of savage (and for all we know, she could have been considered like an exotic attraction), so having the Imperial princess engage with her with a modicum of respect could potentially have been something Petra was craving deep down. And she could end up feeling that Edelgard would do right by her and Brigid? But also, by the time she ends up fighting for Faerghus, I think she’d have a “wait a minute” moment after seeing how Dedue and the people of Duscur are treated, how Dimitri learned to speak their language, how even in wartime he still makes the efforts to go do Duscur, etc. And then she’d realise that something wasn’t quite right when she was fighting for the Empire. It’s just a thought, anyway.

Lol, imagine having a meltdown over a fictional character... oh wait. Seriously, if you disagree you can either scroll or leave a polite comment or whatever. It’s not that hard and people will be more willing to hear your arguments that way than if you throw an tantrum... Like... being a political hostage doesn’t prevent you from using your brain? And we know Petra is smart. So, personally, I can only interpret her lines about Faerghus as her being at her worst. She has no excuse and should be called out for saying that. And I say that as someone who really likes (not CF/SB/GW) Petra, mind you.

And Clod and Holst’s discussion is even more baffling and makes them seem like idiots. If you know that the Empire will eventually want to make your country a puppet state, why are you helping them?

I think Zoltan was from Sreng? So they must be good at making weapons and perhaps objects made of metal such as vase, cutlery, jewelry? They could potentially sell these as luxury goods, which could become trendy in Fodlan? “You’re not wearing Sreng earrings? That’s so 1185...” lol

I'm having a really hard time fathoming how some people consider SB to be a righteous/heroic route or a route where we're the good guys. The route where:

You invade two independent nations under the pretence of "saving their citizens from oppression" (though I guess you can't be oppressed anymore if you're dead lol) even though Her Majestic Hypocrisy repeats a bunch of times that she's in for conquest and that she'd obliterate anyone who stands in her way.

The cast keeps victim-blaming the invaded parties for *checks note* defending their countries. 

The death toll is the highest. You have to kill Ingrid, Rodrigue, Gustave and Sylvain. And you can also kill Ashe, Mercedes (btw, if she dies, the cutscene where Dimitri and Dedue grieve changes slightly, which is nice), Annette, Shamir, Ignatz, Raphael and Marianne (how does Margrave Edmund feel about Claude's alliance with the empire knowing his daughter was killed by its army?). 

IIRC, this is the only route where you conscript merchants into the imperial army. No wonder the empire has the biggest army.

Based Rhea who, despite being hunted, still thinks about the safety of the continent first in the final chapter. It's hilarious how characters like Edespot or Clyde harp on about how Rhea is the big bad, and in the few scenes you have with her, she's just kind? Anyway. Rhea based.

In the C support conversation - which happens right after Felix got seriously injured and Sylvain got killed- there's this bit where Dimitri is like "I don't know if I can talk with like everything is normal, so many have died already" and Edespot's response is basically "yeah I don't see it that way. Let's agree to disagree". Also, I believe she wonders if she shouldn't just kill Clyde and Dimitri once they're out. Even though Clyde is her ally at the moment. You bet on the wrong lord, Clyde... 

I probably forgot a few stuff, but... oh well.

To be honest,

The only things I like about Supreme Bullshit are :

Its ending! Supreme Leader and Barney (well, at least they throw a sword?) being sitting ducks while Rhea steals the show, and sacrifices herself in an epic shonen scene to get rid of the real threat, aka showing that unlike someone, she knows how to prioritize, and it ends up in an explosion. It matches the ending of the F-Zero anime (at 0.48!), Rhea/Falcon rushes to deal a blow (a Falcon punch and a Seiros strike I guess?) to their mortal enemy, there is a giant explosion, and both Rhea/Falcon fade away in a blinding light. Too bad the Supreme Bullshit BGM is eons away from "Searching to the Truth" :(

The reveal that Rhea kept the keys to the sekrit passages in the Imperial Palace - or Rhea knows more about Enbarr and its castle than the current Emperor and her aides...

Doro's paralogue being incredibly tone deaf about, uh, soldiers being "too busy" by the Mittelfrank troupe, that they can't basically protect the dancers/performers from bandits, when the paralogue happens in an area that is expressedly supposed to be full of soldiers!

If starts align in a certain way, it's the only route in Nopes where Clout dies!

Leopold! He's like Victarion Greyjoy, only if he was taken seriously. But we, as players, know better! Also he's a living retcon, from having a major cichol crest to gift to his son because he fought well (and not to, say, Big B or even Ferdie) a sacred weapon despite the route being all about muhritocracy!

Supreme Leader plans and plays with the cards she has in her hand - from trying to get good PR to get rid of people (Varley sr) by pitting them against her next target (the CoS)!

An entire game full of new Supreme Replies (tm)!

For shippers around, it has a Cathmir scene where everyone knows Shamir will prioritize Catherine's life over her allegeance! too bad this is a Supreme Leader route, so no, Shamir won't fucking try to kill her for blackmailing her and can even kill Catherine herself later on....

That's not a lot lol, and most of it are breadcrumbs because for the proper plot...

Yeah, it kinds of sucks.

Supreme Bullshit is even more tone deaf with the War and its realities than Tru Piss (and that's a feat!), Ferdie being completely, uh, off the mark about everything (invading lands and rekting people, and then saying those people's fears are only in their heads! Pal, one of the first missions in the SB exclusive chapters is to rout refugees??? + the nonsense about the Kingdom having more crested generals, when data shows the Empire has more crested peeps than the Kingdom!), Caspar being turned in the worst version of himself who dgaf anymore about protecting "innocents" and "justice", and, uh, everything with Monica.

Victim blaming is the norm with Fodlan games, but yeah, it really feels odd that suddenly, in the Zahras chapters, Dimitri's all "okay" when his closest friends either died or were grievly injured and the game proceeds as it does when, come on, why wouldn't Dimitri kill her the second they're out of the Zahras verse??

I really disliked how Supreme Bullshit yeeted Ionius from Adrestia, or how it didn't explore in more depth the Insurrection of the Seven, especially since we side with Leopold'n'Waldemar against Ludwig, who used to be allies! Also, as far as I remember, no one mentions anything about Arundel, why he ran away to the Kingdom with a young Supreme Leader and how he changed when he returned, or something?

If Ludwig is pushed by Supreme Leader, reciting her Dad's words, as the one who led the insurrection and the experiments on her, why the fuck no one else mentions them, as Leopold and Waldemar were on Aegir's side back then? They don't even mention "Arundel" participating, like, Volkhard sides against Ionius and hides his niece, but 3 months later, he returns and offers her as a guinea pig?

As is the norm with the Supreme Leader routes, the "truth" isn't what we're looking for, because we know Supreme Leader pushes a narrative she will follow to reach her goals, but where Tru Piss gave hints here and there about her narrative being, uh, rubish, we have no clues here, and Leopold prefers to flash his loincloth than giving us anything meaningful about that incident.

When you compare them to Matthias and Rodrigue (and Gilbert?) who often mention Lambert "back in the days", it's more and more obvious that... we're not supposed to ask questions in Supreme Bullshit, and just go with the flow.

And it ends with a high five.

I'd say it deviates less from Tru Piss than Golden Shower does from Verdant Winds, but it's an "expected disappointment".

That's why my only higlights are not plot relevant (save for the Captain Falcon - Rhea parallel) - because we know the plot will never deliver something meaningful in a Supreme Leader route.

[doros-artchive]

2021

[wilde-writing]

Find the word tag

Thank you @unfocused-overwriter for tagging me. It’s been such a long time. Maybe this is what will get me back working on my wip after all this horrible university stuff I had to do. 

All excerpts are from my Eskaron Wip, which I started under the name Ruins of the West, but that’s not appropriate anymore and I don’t have a better title yet. :D

Bone

How to kill a king?

Many answers came to Rija’s head. A king was just another human being, a meat sack full of blood and bones, just as easy to run through like a pig. And there was nothing Rija wanted more than to rip this king open. 

Future

Eldan’s voice alarmingly rose in volume. “It is time to take responsibility. Time to think about an heir.“

“Maybe you should reconsider your choice of an heir,“ Arik mumbled quietly so his father couldn’t hear. He met Alys’ knowing glance.

“You are not getting younger, son. How many more years until you start thinking about your future?“

Bewildered he stared at his father. “I’m only 28.“

“When I was your age Alys was already born.“

Hint

Nothing changed since Rilan left for the shifter territory. Still he scanned the  walls if there was a hint that every single stone in the castle was built on a lie. The foundation of this kingdom, no, of all three kingdoms was blood. Why did it not spill out of the walls?

Justice

“You know“, Rilan sighed, “they are my family that I love, but when you always get pushed away it is hard to feel worried or even panicked.“

This confession fueled Sandar’s sense of justice. “It is unfair. You were born under the best conditions, you have the title and connections but are missing your family’s backing. I on the other hand only have the latter.“ Detached he observed a group of courtiers strolling around.  

Tagging @siarven, @kittensartswriting, @ellatholmes, @doro-writes. Your words are blue, trust, lie and shiver.

[mariacallous]

My #BLEWISH ancestry shows up in different ways. My maternal DNA is Ashkenazi-Russian Jewish. On the paternal side, like many African Americans, my ancestors are a swirl of Black, Native American, and European White — largely German, though I don’t know how much of that was added to the mix consensually.

Rosalyn and Kelly, my parents, were married in Seattle, Washington long before the Supreme Court made unions like theirs fully legal throughout the United States. But unlike many interracial couples, they grew up together during the Depression in North Minneapolis, where Black people and Jewish people were “allowed” to live side by side.

My parents divorced when I was two, just before my younger brother was born. Mom raised us in the very diverse Central Area of Seattle, which (pre-gentrification) was where many Black and Asian people resided.

My mother was proud of her Jewish heritage. While she wasn’t religiously observant, she did send my brother and I to Hebrew school. “I want you to learn about my people’s history, culture, and beliefs,” she explained.

Food was my mother’s love language and a form of spiritual expression. Everything from the simplest dishes to elaborate meals were always cooked to perfection. Most Sundays, she turned out a soul food feast with chicken (baked, not fried), collard greens, candied yams, rice, and often black-eyed peas. Sometimes she even threw in a sweet potato pie. My father had tutored her in creating these delicacies during their years together.

When it came to traditional Jewish dishes, she didn’t cook many, though she’d rhapsodize about her mother’s knishes, rugelach, and schmaltz. But she was serious about her chicken soup. She cooked it old school: a whole chicken, plump chunks of carrots, silvered slices of celery, and plenty of “nature’s antibiotics:” onion and garlic. Sometimes she added noodles; other times, rice. One thing was certain: Mom’s chicken soup was a powerful healing elixir for body, mind, spirit, and soul. And true to form, she whipped some up and administered it at the first sign of any illness.

My approach to cooking is more serviceable than spiritual, and I don’t have my mom’s gift for making everything flawless. But I have carried on the traditions of two cherished dishes: collard greens and chicken soup. My now-grown son and daughter request and expect collard greens for every holiday meal, and they grew up eating chicken soup as a cure-all. Their adult palates are more vegetarian–vegan, so the chicken soup tradition might well end with my generation. But the spirit of healing chicken soup lives on in spirit and memory. Who knows, maybe they’ll come up with a non-poultry option.

Every New Year’s Eve, my mother cooked collards and black-eyed peas, and made sure we all ate at least a little before midnight. “The greens are for money, and the peas for good luck,” she’d remind us. I didn’t realize how deeply this was rooted in African American tradition until I moved to the South.

I thought all the mothers of Mixed-Black children were experts at preparing soul food. It wasn’t until I was grown that I realized how extraordinary my mother was. As my brother and I brought people from different places into our multicultural home, I watched in amazement as she mastered their traditional dishes as well from lumpia and adobo for my brother’s Filipina girlfriend to berbere and Doro Wot for my Ethiopian beau.

My mother’s eclectic approach to culinary expression taught me a lot about being from a mixed-race background. Her kitchen was a living laboratory of what we now call diversity. She learned and then produced the dishes from different cultures with reverence and seasoned them with love. They mirrored her approach to people and life: open-minded and open-hearted with a hearty appreciation for the cultural spice of life.

Unlike my late mother, I normally take shortcuts in the kitchen. But chicken soup and collard greens are sacred, and require elaborate rituals, often taking a couple of days. I clear my counters and my schedule, and savor the opportunity to commune with my parents and to reflect on the paths of their ancestors that brought them together in a rule-breaking love with the audacity to produce children who were destined to live outside the lines.

And when I place small amounts of those special dishes upon my ancestral altar, I give special thanks for the vision, heart, and culinary prowess of a mama who spoke — and cooked — Yiddish and jazz.*

Note: Use your favorite seasonings to flavor your greens. Lawry’s Seasoning Salt is popular and Seasonest (sold in Whole Foods and online) is a Black family-owned alternative with all-natural ingredients.

*I borrowed the phrase, “a mother who speaks Yiddish and jazz” from my #BLEWISH sister-author Lisa Jones and her wonderful book “Bulletproof Diva“.  

[jokertrap-ran]

Sinoalice: White Day 2021 Event [The Male Feast of Idols: Phantom Tale] Handshake Event Translations (Side: DOROTHY)

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *It’ll be very appreciated if anyone can send me the missing choice route portions for Doro (´；ω；`)ｳｯ…

"You’re here again? I’m real happy! All the numerous people who come here are all my valuable samples after all!”

Snow White / Cinderella / Gretel / Dorothy

(*Crowd murmurs*...)

Dorothy: Ooh, hello there.

⊳Choice:  Hello!!!!!!

Dorothy: Hello, hellooo~! Welcome~

⊳Choice: Please shake my hand!!!!!!

Dorothy: Suuure. Come again next time, okaaay? See you. Next person pleeease.

━━━━━━━━━━━

……

What a systematic reaction that was… Maybe I should bring a much more interesting conversational topic next time.

━━━━━━━━━━∘◦ ♡ ◦∘━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(*Crowd murmurs*...)

Dorothy: Huh? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…?

⊳Choice: We met at the previous Handshake Event!

Dorothy: I see! So, what are you here for today?

⊳Choice: I found something that you might be interested in, see?

Dorothy: Oh!

*incomplete choice route

⊳Choice: I want to know more about you!

*incomplete choice route

━━━━━━━━━━━

⊳Choice: I came here to talk to you again, Dorothy!

Dorothy: Why, aren’t I glad to hear that. Thank you so much.

⊳Choice: Speaking of which, my friend said that she wanted to meet you!

*incomplete choice route

⊳Choice: I want to hear what you think an ideal fan of yours should be!

Dorothy: I see. Perhaps we should leave it to next time?

Dorothy: I’ve got an experiment to tend to after this, so I’ll be taking my leave first.

Dorothy: …...

I didn’t manage to catch his attention well enough… I’ll try harder next time!

━━━━━━━━━━∘◦ ♡ ◦∘━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(*Crowd murmurs*...)

Dorothy: You’re here again? I’m real happy! All the numerous people who come here are all my valuable samples after all!

⊳Choice: Only because I really, really like you, Dorothy!

*incomplete choice route

━━━━━━━━━━━

⊳Choice: Only because I want to meet you, no matter how many times I already have!

Dorothy: Hmm, mmhm… And why’s that?

⊳Choice: I suppose it’s because there’s something magnetic about you, and that you’re strangely captivating?

Dorothy: Mmhm, mmhmmm. I see; then how about we exchange a couple more words?

……

He’s surprisingly… Nice. But I managed to get his attention, so maybe someday, I’ll finally…!

⊳Choice: I suppose it’s because you treasure all your fans, or I suppose, because it feels like you’re always observing them?

*incomplete choice route

━━━━━━━━━━∘◦ ♡ ◦∘━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(*Crowd murmurs*...)

Dorothy: Wow, you’re here again! You’ve really piqued my interest ever since you were here the last time!

⊳Choice: Is it rare for someone to come here this many times…?

Dorothy: Yes, absolutely! It’s super interesting! Thank you for everything, as always!

⊳Choice: Can I come by again then?

*incomplete choice route

⊳Choice: I want to come up with much more things with you as an Idol, and me, as a fan of yours!

Dorothy: Then, without further ado! Allow me to research you in-depth!

Dorothy: This will sting juuust a little!

Dorothy: I can’t wait for the results to come out!

I’m so glad that I managed to hold a proper two-sided conversation with Dorothy! And I’m so thankful for the many times I’ve come down here!

━━━━━━━━━━━

⊳Choice: I can’t help it since I wanted to meet you as soon as I could!

Dorothy: And why is that so? I don’t think my attitude has changed that much at all from before.

⊳Choice: Because I never get bored of your charisma, and there’s also the fact that you’re here!

*incomplete choice route

⊳Choice: I guess it’s because I get to experience something new every time?

Dorothy: That’s true. I’m sure you’re able to have a good experience every time you come down.

Dorothy: If possible, I’d be really happy if you can come by again.

I’m so glad that I managed to hold a proper two-sided conversation with Dorothy! And I’m so thankful for the many times I’ve come down here!

━━━━━━ ∘◦ ♡ The Male Feast of Idols♡ ◦∘ ━━━━━━

[dagmaradudajek-hnd-1b-photo]

Street level photoworks

Street level photoworks

The first exhibition which we visited in that course it was Street Level Photoworks in the Trongate Gallery. I need to admit I like the exhibition the least of all we visited. The exhibition includes works of two artists- Doro Zinn’s and Robert John Henderson’s. Robert John Henderson has named his exhibition “In Praise of Darkness and Light”. I think there is a great tittle for this exhibition because accurate describes what his photographs presented. His images have dark exposure but also in every photo, we can see one source the light which focuses mainly on one subject. I like his way to pay our attention to using the lighting. For example, he has taken a photo of building with beautiful details, everything is quite dark but the details are brighter than the rest of the image so this part of the image makes us focus on that part the most. Moreover, if I am talking about that image, we can see a lot of guidelines in the photo and they are also the lighter part of this photograph. I think that this kind of lighting is very characteristic for him but also I saw that he often uses low angle shots, which is make simple photos more interesting. His photographs present daily objects it is not something new but through using certain techniques like playing with light or perspectives he shows it in a quite interesting way.

Photojournalism is one of my favorite part of photography but this kind what Doro Zinn presented on the exhibition wasn’t to my taste. It is not my esthetic and not my colours I just need to feel something when I am watching photos and this image didn’t awake my feelings but I appreciate how truly the images are. If I would have chosen one image it would be the portrait of the woman below. I like the natural light in the image beside the texture of skin is really nice, I am aware that there are some people who think it is not appropriate to emphasis age, wrinkles, etc. but in my opinion, it is wonderful to see natural people in real life. I think that naturalness is charming.

After all, it was an interesting experience to see how does street photography can be varied. Either Doro Zinn and Robert John Henderson taking the same kind of photography but their work is so different from each other. Robert’s work is black and white and we can observe playing shadows with light in his photos then Doro’s images are more consistent. In her photos, we cannot see many shadows or highlights. Also. He is focused on architecture, places, and objects while Doro shares her attention to both people and places where they live or work. Her photographs are kept in colour. Most of them are not high saturate quite the opposite are soft. However, we can find also a few photographs with saturate colours which have high contrast as well.

-EXHIBITION

[carolhnd2bphoto]

Exhibition

On the 28.08.2019 our class went to Street Level to see 2 exhibits, Doro Zinn (Save It For A Rainy Day) and Robert John Henderson (In Praise Of Darkness and Light).  Both exhibits were good and both photographers brought their own unique style of photography.

Robert John Henderson – Henderson is both a photographer (HND Photography from City of Glasgow College) and psychologist (MA Psychology at University of Glasgow). In this particular piece of work looks at both the dark and light and is more specific to the city; lanes, streets.  It also explores areas that can’t be seen such as the shadows. Henderson, in order to gain a better insight into the unseen has travelled to various cities in and around Europe but has done it so that the observer believes to be looking at images of the one city.  All of the images have been taken at night however, in each image there is a shred of light just enough to let you see what is there but there is also the hidden aspect, what can’t you see? Does he want the observer to be curious enough as to use their imagination?  What’s behind the shadows?

Doro Zinn –  as well as studying photography in Berlin, Zinn study Political Sciences and Psychology in Vienna. Much of Zinns work has been published in magazines.  She has a passion for identity, belonging and marginalization.  Like Henderson, Zinn shot her images in the city; Gorbals part of Glasgow, know for its poverty and for being a rough area.  Living there you need to know how to handle yourself.  These images are strikingly personal and raw with emotion.  Zinn built up a relationship with her subjects, a relationship of trust.  There is a story behind each individual she has photographed.  Zinn photographed places in the Gorbals which also tell a story.  All of Zinn’s work in the Gorbals were shot in the daylight; outside or in people’s homes.  But like Henderson’s work, there is a darkness, both have qualifications in Psychology, therefore an interest in the human  mind, human behavior.

The two images above were quite striking, the 1st image was shot by Zinn and the 2nd by Henderson. the 1st image works really well because it tells a story about this woman, there is emotion there, she has had a hard life, the expression on her face is real.  The lighting also works in bringing out the hurt that the woman is feeling, to help achieve the lighting was soft to bring out the lines in her face and the sadness in her eyes.  there are some shadows, however that adds to the effect, the shadows are soft and are almost  hugging her for comfort.  Zinn is trying to convey an air of sadness and she has done this perfectly as you are drawn immediately to  the face, even the way the woman is positioned, staring out the window searching for better days.  You don't see the window but you can tell by the light coming in from the side and could be the reason for the shadows.  Having the woman sitting against a white background is clever as the woman stands out, its a simple photo with a big impact.  Zinn is trying to tell the story of this woman's heartache and how it will never go away, she lives each day as it comes.  Chances are she has been in the same house most of her days and will continue to do so until she dies.  Zinn has not put this print in a canvass or chose to put a border round the image. it has been printed as it was shot, nothing has been hidden, what you see is what you get.  Zinn will have used a DSLR, no filters.  just shot as seen.  I think Zinns work is more personal than commissioned as she has a strong interest on areas of identity and belonging, also her psychology background will influence her towards images of people rather than objects.

The 2nd image is completely different.  the image works but not in the same way as the 1st image.  the 2nd image is cold and hard, Henderson is aiming for drama and this has worked by the style of lighting.  the lighting here, I think, is hard, because of the dramatic effect.  in this image its not quite clear what you are meant to focus on, is it the stone work or is it the light streaming through.  the image looks like it has been shot at night time but there is a stream of light coming through, which looks like natural sun light.  for me the style of lighting is not as obvious as the 1st image  and gives off a completely different feel to the images.  its quite a confusing image and as such you look at it for longer to try and understand it more.  again with the first image, you know straight away, the story, its in the woman's face.  as mentioned above this image work for me because of its dramatic effect, its eerie in nature. it has a heavenly feel with the stream of light coming through, the statues are angel like, looking over the dark city keeping it safe.  for Henderson to get this effect he may have used a dark filer to make it look like the image was shot at night. I would think that Henderson, to get the desired effect may have used various kinds of lighting equipment.  by putting the image on a white canvas in a black frame also adds to effect in that it allows the image to standout.  I think if it was on a white background, the impact would not be there.  Henderson's work have a more artistic feel and as such could be commissioned, he too has a qualification in psychology but he is pairing it with his photography in a different way; the darkness and the shadows that people stay away from, fear of the unknown.