#and the worlds most inconsistent colouring goes to...?

[sugurugetos]

Holliday Granger as LUCREZIA BORGIA THE BORGIAS — 2.09: World of Wonders (2012)

[slaingelo]

HOLY SHIT HERE WE GO !!!! somewhat world building dump as the prologue.

Chapter one will be longer and in parts, and will involve exploring Link's current life, more world building, and also !! HIS DAD !!

more rambling below;

So in case it wasn't obvious the whole "you'll die if the gem is broken" isn't TECHNICALLY true. no one's ever actually had the gem break while bound to it, so the thought that you'll die is just an assumption based on like... well. YOUR SOUL IS IN THAT. and it's been passed down as fact rather than theory.

the gem will get broken at the end of chapter one, leading to Link's soul being torn into four pieces. This technically kills Link which is why I do want to spend time going over his current place in life in chapter 1 before the DeathTM :3

also worth noting; they're young adults ! Link has no plans to go to college and is kind of a mess right now, Zelda rather than being any kind of princess is from a family with spiritual importance- ofc being taking care of the force gem. it's been a while since a hero had to be chosen !!

also, all the maidens are being given actual names, chosen after gemstones instead of colours because like,,, I mean, blue maiden is the most important one here, I can't really call her Blue lol.

I DUNNO HOW FAST UPDATES WILL BE, I wanna be careful to not burn myself out, so we'll see how it goes :3 I might post 3 or so pages at once per update instead of 9 each time aha;;

I hope this is interesting !! I'm really excited to tell the story I wrote for this AU and I hope you guys will enjoy the ride <3

consider this some exposition combined with experimenting with the comic process because this is the first time I've actually finished a comic that's longer than 1 page and it probably shows. I'll be forced to make it more interesting once I get to the action stuff don't worry XD I'll try to get better at making the talking stuff look interesting over time .. AND YOU CAN SEE HOW INCONSISTENT MY ART IS WAAH.

I ended up changing line thickness after 3 pages bc I realised I was going too thin and I was never going to finish it if I kept w/ it because I haaate doing thin lineart...

[rose-icosahedron]

The Prodigal in Book Of Hours is Gwendolen Farouk*

(explaining my friend @clintonlighthouse's theory as I understand it)

*this does not mean Gwendolen Farouk is The Prodigal** **This will be explained later.

This post contains major spoilers for the ending of The Lady Afterwards and minor spoilers for the beginning of Book of Hours, as well as discussions of cannibalism and filicide. If you are familiar with either of these characters, you know why.

Part one: Who is The Prodigal?

"Brancrug, March 7th, 1936,

'There has been no Librarian at Hush House since the fire - seven years now. Suitable candidates are very difficult to find, but perhaps we have found one in you. Take care on your journey - the seas around Brancrug are treacherous…'"

To construct a theory about a character, you must know who they are.

As the newest Librarian of Hush House, the player-character of Book of Hours wakes up on the shore of St Brandan's cove following a shipwreck. They are then tasked to figure out what is left of them, and The Prodigal finds that they still have their Chor and Phost (elements of the soul), as well as their journal. They will also remember their reason for choosing to come to hush house: Their parents are trying to eat them, an inevitability of when any immortals have children.

"My parents were Long - which is to say immortal - and Long are not permitted to make children. Their punishment is this: now that they know I live, they cannot rest until they devour me. Here in Hush House, I will be safe. It is even possible that I might learn to shape a weapon to defend myself." (Memories: the Prodigal)

Later on The Prodigal will solve a very minor Lantern challenge allowing them to read the hammered copper journal and be reminded of their origins, and the player will be told that "The Prodigal's dearest wish is sanctuary".

This is most of the information that can be gleaned about The Prodigal, and the rest of the information that can be gained about them specifically is in relation to their future: the different victories they can gain. These are about The Prodigal's future, however, not their past, so we do not need to dwell on them here. In fact, we should take a look into the past at Gwendolen Farouk.

Part two: Who is Gwendolen Farouk?

"You've been summoned to Alexandria, a city of coloured lights and curious histories. An old friend needs you to track down a woman. She's probably in trouble. Probably trouble herself.

Cherchez la femme, the saying goes. But what does the lady look for?" (5)

In the table top roll playing game The Lady Afterwards, a group of players (playing as alternate versions of some of the main characters of Cultist Simulator). Look for a woman named Audrey Leigh Howard at the behest of one Loretta Farouk.

In the process of their investigation, they learn Loretta has a daughter named Gwendolen. Records of her family show inconsistencies and it is eventually revealed that Gwendolen is actually the daughter of Audrey Leigh Howard and her lover Everett, two Long planning on eating their daughter in order to sate their hunger.

However the players may choose to intervene for Gwendolen's sake, leaving many endings for Gwendolen's story. The game runner's guide provides many potential endings, and since Gwen is to become The Prodigal, these are what we care about.

Maybe the players fail and Gwendolen is eaten, maybe she is whisked away by one Madame Matutine, maybe the player's give her magical water saved for her by her aunt so that she may be forgotten by the world and live in safety. Or maybe, none of those things happen.

Gwendolen gives the players a hastily written note musing about her future, thanking them for her survival and saying she might want to study and find some sort of peace and safety from her parents.

Becoming the Librarian of Hush House would of course be that, but how would she get there in the first place?

Part 3: Connecting the Dots

"A letter to me from St Rhonwen's Trust. The Trust's connection with Hush House is probably benevolent, but persistently obscure." (A Letter to The Librarian)

"Perhaps we have found a suitable candidate in you." The first thing the player reads when they play Book of Hours is a piece of text (the quote at the beginning of this essay) that is divided into two pieces. We have already touched on the second half, written in first tense, which states that the Librarian was in the shipwreck. However we have not touched on the first, which is written in quotes and second tense, states that it is hard to find a suitable candidate for the Librarian of Hush House but that you might be one.

Across the game, the combination of quotes and changed tense is used to represent things that are either said to the Librarian or direct transcriptions of text the Librarian has read. This, combined with the fact it is placed before the Librarian's memory of their shipwreck, implies that it was read or heard by the Librarian prior to their decision to head to Hush House, and is probably their invitation to the position.

The author or speaker of the text is left ambiguous, but later on the Librarian receives a letter from St. Rhowen's Trust asking if arrived and saying their will send a yearly stipend "as previously promised". It seems then that the Trust was the one to select and invite the Librarian.

The connection between St. Rhowen's Trust and Hush House is explicitly stated to be unknown to the Librarian, although when meeting one of the former Librarian's, Dr. Serena Blackwood, the Librarian mentions the Trust has worked with her as well. That connection is also left ambiguous, but a clearer connection is available in the Lady Afterwards game runner's guide. "Serena Blackwood is the founder of the St. Rhonwen Trust, a charitable fund established for the advancement of education, chiefly through scholarships for promising young talents." (32)

Beyond this, within The Lady Afterwards, Dr. Serena Blackwood is noted to be protecting Gwendolen and have an interest in her, as well as the Trust is stated to have provided Gwendolen a scholarship to the Egyptian University.

While this could be enough to make an argument for Dr. Blackwood setting up Gwendolen with a position at Hush House once it becomes available, or at least recommending her the position, there is even more evidence found in Gwendolen's letter to the players if she survives.

This quote both further states Dr. Blackwood's interest in Gwendolen, as well as her willingness to help her, given that she is "offering her time to think". A position at Hush House would be exactly what Dr. Blackwood wants for Gwendolen, both safety and a chance for her to achieve something.

Gwendolen could become the next Librarian of Hush House, and if she did she would match every detail of The Prodigal: A child of two Long on the run. More than that, Gwen is intelligent and innocent, intending not to become Long even if she does want to study the Mansus, both aligning with the pieces of the soul---Chor and Phost---The Prodigal has remaining. Beyond that, The Prodigal's diary is for lack of a better term flavored like Gwen's story, being made of copper (which Forge Long's blood, like Audrey, is said to resemble) and requiring completion of a Lantern (like Everett) mystery.

(I find it fitting that Gwendolen, so haunted by her parents, would have a journal reminiscent of them. Not only is it in some way about them; but Gwendolen was haunted by visions of a Lighthouse which she later interpreted as her parents calling our for her, they would still call for her in her dreams.)

This ties up almost everything, however it does leave one thing un-answered: Gwendolen doesn't always survive, how can she be in another game?

Part four: The Genius of the Secret Histories Timeline and Video Games.

"The attention of the Hours is drawn to the bloodiest wars. Afterwards, the Histories are braided like hair." (a Forbidden Epic)

Gwendolen does not always survive, but The Prodigal is not always the Librarian, in fact The Prodigal is only the Librarian one twelfth of the time.

This reveals a detail of all of the Secret Histories games. Any run possible within any of the games could be canon to the others. (I just think it's neat).

Part five: Conclusion

Every version of The Prodigal is Gwendolen Farouk, although not every version of Gwendolen becomes The Prodigal (Not mine, for example, since she ended up with an assistant and missing and arm. Sorry Gwen). And I just spent the evening of my first day back to school writing a 1.5K word long essay about a game series. Goodnight.

(Essays work like fics, if you want to encourage me to write more insane essays at inopportune times, tell me what you thought)

[agentnico]

Orion and the Dark (2024) review

Woah, Jacob Tremblay under went some plastic surgery or something, as he looks mega-different! Was watching an interview with him and Paul Walter Hauser talking about this film, and the kid has hit puberty big time. Now looks like an annoying moody teen. If they reboot Twilight, we’ve found Edward.

Plot: The thing Orion fears the most is the dark. When the embodiment of his worst fear pays a visit, Dark whisks Orion away on a roller-coaster ride around the world to prove there is nothing to be afraid of at night.

What starts as a pretty basic by-the-numbers animated film about how every aspect of life can be scary quickly morphs into something that celebrates the unpredictability of it whilst exploring how balance is essential. The main kid Orion - he’s basically Beau Is Afraid for kids. He gets freaked out by everything, and honestly he was just really sad to watch, and Tremblay is almost too good at portraying the character’s inner fear, making me wonder how much of the real Tremblay is present within Orion. We are treated to an amusing scrapbook montage of Orion’s imagined worst case scenarios, after which the film briskly jumps straight into the nightly events where Dark comes knocking, featuring a delightfully narrated introduction by Werner Herzog. Paul Walter Hauser makes Dark so loveable, turning a concept that is scary for some into a gentle giant with his own doubts and insecurities. The interactions between Orion and Dark are entertaining and amusing, if a bit inconsistent, as every time you think they’re becoming friends, Orion goes back to his fears. It’s all easy digestible family friendly entertainment, even if there were a couple of surprisingly dark, pardon the pun, jokes included throughout.

However it is in the last 20 minutes when the movie does a mad 360 degree turn and switches genres into this crazy multi-generational escapade, as such in the last 10 mins me and my fiancée were questioning momentarily what just happened. Look, as a collective package Orion and the Dark is a basic animation that takes a lot from other movies of its kind, but those last moments or so jarringly mad and out-there that we were shook. That is until I saw who has a screenplay credit and then all made sense. That’s right, one of the writers of this film is Charlie Kaufman. As you may know, Charlie Kaufman’s films scratch at your head and mess with your mind, as his writing fundamentally deconstructs the ways in which it plays with and incorporates narrative structure of the story itself. In a nutshell, his films are surreal and weird, hence why Orion and the Dark’s ending makes all the more sense.

The animation style itself is fun, somewhat similar to Mitchell vs the Machines’ 2D to 3D blend, and a pleasing colour palette with the dark blue and purple environments, however you can tell this is a cheaper budget from DreamWorks, as many times the backgrounds looked too plain and simple, and even the character designs of the nightly entities were not that original or creative. In fact aside from Dark, all the other night sprits were really bland and unmemorable, and one of them was voiced by acting legend Angela Bassett, so that’s saying something.

Overall Orion and the Dark is enjoyable for what it is, but doesn’t really make a strong impression aside from its last mind-bending 10 minutes, and knowing now of Kaufman’s involvement I feel like this movie had the potential of going weirder from the start, but instead is really by-the-numbers and forgettable, and will not be seen as the cure to nyctophobia.

Overall score: 5/10

[caramariafilm]

Classes - Creating a Complete Cinematic World, Seminar 1

Submarine

Under the imminent threat of Lebanon's garbage crisis, Hala, a wild child inside of a woman, is the only one to refuse evacuation, clinging to whatever remains of home.

This short uses really effective world-building and detailed mise-en-scene to immediately establish Hala's character, giving her a deep history from one location.

The warmth and messiness of Hala's home reflects her personality, as well as her love of her life. What the filmmakers do is use this location to contrast the cold, overwhelming amount of landfill outside. This juxtaposition helps reflect the resilience and the loss of hope in her community.

The sound design also adds a visceral layer at the start, the sound of flies feel personal and close to the camera, louder than feels natural. Similarly, with the dream sequence at the start, the sound of water droplets is loud in comparison to the rest of the scene, capturing Hala's underlying anxiety she tries to hide and exposes itself through her dreams.

I felt that, although this film was engaging for its story, the pacing felt very fragmented in parts. The first section of the film flowed clearly, however the middle section dragged on much longer than necessary, followed by a very abrupt ending.

LISTEN

Copenhagen. A police station. A foreign woman, wearing a burqa, is there with her young son to file a complaint. Yet, it seems the translator is not willing to report what she is telling.

This was the most significant film for me, and by far the best example of making a cinematic world.

The film feels very close and tight, matching the feeling of the interrogation. There is minimal set design and close framing which give a really unsettling atmosphere.

The structure of replaying the same conversation from three different perspectives, effectively showed the communication - or lack of - from each perspective. Not only this but this structure highlights the importance of communication, the dangers of miscommunication, and the fear of being unable to seek help when most needed.

The simple structure of this film works really effectively, conveying the vulnerability and frustration of the characters. Making it a really impactful look on trust and misrepresentation.

Hail Mary Country

A house robbery in suburbia goes awry and leads to a showdown between the victims and the robbers.

I feel pretty disappointed with the outcome of this film which is a shame!!

When watching this, it was clear to me that each department had really excelled in their work. The production design specifically was beautiful, creating a visually cohesive and believable world that captured the aesthetic of suburban Americana. The colour grade also complimented this very well. Similarly, the sound and cinematography compliment the set well, no particular department letting the film down.

The only fault is the narrative execution. The film awkwardly shifts between different genres, creating this real inconsistency in the actor's performances. I was unable to tell if it was trying to be a comedy or a drama at certain points.

This issue made the rest of the film really jarring and interrupted the flow of the story, which is a real shame given how strong the other elements were.

The Shining Star of Losers Everywhere

Haru Urara, a Japanese racehorse, became a national icon after enduring a losing streak of epic proportions.

This was a really heartwarming documentary, and I loved the animation style used throughout.

The film combines found footage, interviews, and animation, creating a well paced documentary that remains visually interesting across the time.

I don't have much to say about this film given it is a documentary and whatever is shown is natural. However, I believe they used all of the elements of the documentary very clearly.

The use of talking heads in particular didn't feel boring at any points. I think if this film didn't have the animation it would be a lot less visually interesting, however the use of animation really strengthens the overall story, bridging the gaps between any footage they were unable to find.

The Black Watch

A harrowing period drama set in the final days of WW2. 

While I felt as though this film was really impressive, I noticed some inconsistencies in the production design for matching the time period of the shoot, making it feel a little jarring at points.

Other than that, I thought the film worked really well, the VFX in particular complimented the style of the film.

It's strange cause this film was actually shot on a location that I used to go as a kid with my family, so I think that took me out a little bit too!

[stupendousfuckcurtain]

Okay so stranger things volume 2 kinda made sense to me while watching it but then I read the most colourful reviews and I'm here to talk about it. I'm mostly gonna talk about the things that I've seen being talked about that frustrate me. Here it goes.(It gets kiiinda long and kinda messy but hopefully it's somewhat understandable)

Will

The whole gay anguish Will has been put through this season honestly HURTS to watch. I don't care if they're using the gay character and stuff but ANY character being put through this kind of psychological pain AFTER already getting traumatized is just. Not it? I enjoyed the angst I'll admit but still they're not living his character up to its potential. Will was the main subject, like the main GOAL in the beginning right. Boi got fucked up in the first season but no you have to keep the connection going someway in season 2 so make him suffer more. FINE. Season two was still okay because there was potential for recovery and it could've been redeemed in season 3 but nope. It did not. What the hell even was season 3 for Will specifically? Season 3 feels like a fever dream not gonna lie but anyway the last two seasons have done NOTHING for Will.

Byler

Season 4 would've been PERFECT for the recovery process to start through Byler and I'm not just saying this because the show needs more positive LGBTQ representation but because it would make 100% sense for the characters and the plot to progress better. Also I feel like a lot of people are just shipping characters for absolutely no reason this season in the name of representation. Like I get shipping my guys but don't say its for the rep if it doesn't make sense. But yeah anyway Will's character has reached a potentially irredeemable point for me. Hopefully it'll SOMEHOW make sense in season 5.

Mileven

Okay so um. I'm a casual viewer I don't really care about the show after a few hours of finishing it BUT this relationship was enough to distress me for two years. I stopped shipping these two after season three tbh and then I come into season four and hEAR MIKE SAYING THAT HIS LIFE FELT LIKE IT STARTED WHEN HE MET ELEVEN WHAT THE HELL. Season 3 was kinda wierd for a few characters, there was such inconsistency with the character writing. Like there are bad characters and then there's bad writing. Mike was a great friend right from season one and suddenly he's a douche who can't see how much his best friend is suffering and literally crying beside him? Does not make sense. This whole relationship or the whole love triangle has been disgusting to see. It just does not make sense. I'm all for characters turning stupid or changing through circumstances but can someone please explain to me how Mike's downfall came to be. He's nothing but a love interest now? Just following around El with Will following him, is that it? Mike's entire focus shifted to eleven this season. Maybe it was because of everyone else was safe and close to him? The story is being made in a way as if Mike has always thought of El as number one priority but he didn't. I don't know it just doesn't feel right.

Characters in general

I don't know know how anyone else interprets the characters and the show in such detail but I feel like they(the writers) are literally reducing the characters to some tropes so that they show this big huge fight between the worlds. The writers are doing a horrible job handling the characters. ESPECIALLY relationships. This show and the fandom are the messiest in ships. I feel like I'm saying controversial stuff right now but eh. For the fans, I'm sorry but steddie being shipped was just a huge ass blow to my face. I could still predict ronance coming but steddie? Hell nah. Where'd people even dig that up from. A little eye contact? we do not need to ship a canonically(or presumed) gay character from every same sex interaction we see. Ronance kinda felt like it'd be cool but they felt more like buddies to me so. I respect the ships but I just haven't seen the content or posts that could convinced that they could have any canon potential. I like my ships a little more canon inspired. So yeah. For the show itself, they've fucked me up by butchering a lot of things this season and relationships is one main point as we've established already. Since I've already typed a paragraph about mileven let's go with something small for Nancy and Steve. No. It just fucks with all the character development Steve's had the past three seasons and just does not make sense. It makes sense that Nancy and Jonathan might not be able to work it out because of the distance and stuff but really? You're gonna make Nancy, the smart confident Nancy, go back to her ex she walked away from? That's just. Mmm mm.

Anyway yeah this was it. Don't think anyone's gonna read this but feels good to type it out. Also if anyone does read this I'm sorry if it has any stuff that doesn't make sense I've completely COMPLETELY forgotten season 3. If anyone doesnt agree or has a different perspective on these things please DM me I'd love to understand better.

[janeeyreheresy]

Happily Ever After

Jane and Rochester have now been married for ten years. So everything that Jane has been narrating took place at least as long ago as that. How much of this is misremembered or revised is up to the reader to decide. The conflicting descriptions of the madwoman, the inconsistency of the time of sunrise on two July days in a row, the puzzling attitude towards her uncle, whom she wanted to meet, but not really.

The Rochesters are one happy couple.

No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh.

Are they Siamese twins?

We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking.

Ah, Rochester and his monologues.

She goes on about how she was his eyes and never tired of it, yadda yadda yadda, until, two years on, he partially recovered eyesight in one eye. It starts like this:

“Jane, have you a glittering ornament round your neck?”

I had a gold watch-chain: I answered “Yes.”

“And have you a pale blue dress on?”

She had.

Hold it right there. She wore a glittering ornament? A dress that was not black or grey?? A light coloured dress???

Right, so a watch chain is not as big a crime to her as, say, a diamond necklace would be (she never mentions the pearls again) but the dress? Mayhaps our plain Jane has discovered that she won't go to hell for wearing something pretty? She's not wearing it for her husband's benefit--as when she put it on, she didn't know he regained some of his sight. I wonder, did she, after all, have that shopping trip with the girls? 

My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those we most love are happy likewise. 

She's calling him Edward now, when we're like, 99.99% though with the book. "Those we love most" refers to Diana and Mary Rivers. Who are Jane's relatives/friends, not Edward's. There's no mention of any friends of Edward's. He doesn't have any. 

The Rivers sisters also found their marital bliss: Diana married Captain Fitzjames of the navy (good for you, girl!) and Mary married Mr Wharton, a clergyman who was a college classmate of St John. They all visit each other every year.

Am happy for them. I hope Diana gets to travel the world with her hubby and makes the best of her inheritance. 

There is also one interesting line in the paragraph where Jane talks about Edward's sight:

When his first-born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were—large, brilliant, and black.

So Jane tells us a boy was born. A son of Rochester, with the same eyes.

However, nowhere does she state that she's the kid's mother.

It's... an interesting way of putting things. The passive voice, the detached way she says it. Not "we named our first born [whatever]", or "we were blessed with a son". His first-born was put into his arms. It's the only sentence in the whole book that makes any reference to any child or children of theirs. Considering what a large part their relationship plays in the story, it's... odd. Jane talks a lot about side characters, including those she hates, but this child gets one sentence. His first-born, his eyes. Was he not Jane's son too?

Given Rochester's philandering ways, who knows. But then, it's likely he had kids all over Europe and this would not therefore be his first born. I don't believe Adele was his, but he's been with many women. And there is, of course, the small detail of him him having been married before. Imagine one day a young man with dark hair, flanked on one side by his uncle Richard, on the other by a lawyer, turns up on their doorstep: "what's up, dad, I'm of age now and came here to claim my inheritance." I only accept a dead Bertha in a timeline where she had a son with Edward. But I don't like this timeline. I prefer her not to have children, not with Edward at least. She's suffered enough.

I'm sure nobody wants that. Let Jane and her master be happy and let Bertha be happy too. Any potential European offspring will be illegitimate, therefore of no threat. 

St John went to India and never married and never will, as he will soon die. In his last letter he writes he is anticipating the hour in which his Lord Maker will come for him. We're not given any more information, but as far as I understand, the Indian climate didn't agree with the young missionary.

Let me quote the last line of the book, which is a line from St John's letter:

“My Master,” he says, “has forewarned me. Daily He announces more distinctly,—‘Surely I come quickly!’ and hourly I more eagerly respond,—‘Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!’”

My Master. The phrase I have been laughing about for half the recap. You can't fucking make it up.

St John has got it right. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. I'm not religious, or a believer, but I understand that's how it works. And Jane did worry she was making too much of Rochester, back in their engagement days, many moons ago. She still had a chance then. 

I don't know, maybe if you spell it with lowercase "m", it's not a sin?

[thatgrammarboy]

dark academia types: the strategist

OBSESSED with military history

reads intelligence leaks obsessively

talented manipulator; they know people intuitively. they are extremely observant and can ‘see’ people in the abstract. in the same way a brilliant mathematician might see prime numbers as differently coloured, they see motivation, emotion and desire as shades of different colours.

without question went to an elite private school that they //somehow// got into on a full scholarship. in some cases, depending on the wealth of the school, they were able to arrange a stipend. but of course, if you were to ask them, their parents “run a moderately successful business”. If you were to Google that business, you would find a registered company, a website and clients. the staff always said the “fees were paid on time”, so nobody questioned anything. their classmates don’t see them as different, and they are invited to Summer all over the world, their middle/lower class parents dazed at how wonderfully accepting their “rich friends” are.

despite their adolescent strategic focus, they excel in debating, chess and sport (rowing and martial arts are particularly favoured). They make a tight friendship group with people they come to love and would kill to protect.

brilliant marks at the end of school, despite a somewhat inconsistent interest throughout. academics are a game and the object is to win.

master of active recall/’smart’ study methods. it’s all just strategy, right?

studied military history/strategic studies and Classics in undergrad (though they took some economics and politics classes -- perhaps more than they were allowed to -- for good measure)

probably goes to law school after, followed by possibly a Masters of Public Policy, and an MPhil or a PhD.

full scholarship to both undergrad and postgrad, definitely with stipends and high-paying Summer internships.

has the attitude that their friends are sacred and untouchable. everyone else is fair game.

in saying that, they love to romance and to date. they want to find their ‘one’, which is just the one with whom they want to rule the world

deeply empathetic in very specific circumstances and with very specific people

despite common perception, they are very very emotional people. it is their hubris. they need to act dispassionately but their emotional centre is what gives them the intuition that sits at the centre of their gift.

loves the people closest to them, especially their s/o, more than most people ever could

lowkey looks down on anyone who can’t read Latin or classical Greek

reads obsessively but (unlike many of the other ‘Academic’ types) parties like a wild animal

when they party, it’s only a successful night if they take more than two peope home. naturally, they are masters at cooking breakfast

(breakfast is the best way to ensure the love-making from the night before and the early morning continues well into the late afternoon)

probably cuts their teeth doing legal work. either criminal law (white collar crime, baby) or into corporate law. they do some pro-bono work though.

before long, their talents are recognised and they get approached by a government or intelligence agency for consulting. they end up becoming indispensible, demanding whatever they want in compensation, well out-pacing their (extremely well-paying) lawyer’s salary.

eventually, they start a business related to government/military/strategy

after they build up a strong enough power base, they run for prime minister or president, taking an impressive victory. from there, it’s only up.

by this point, they’re still the cold hearted planner they always were. but they’ve met the love of their life (almost undoubtably somebody caring but hyper successful; might be a doctor or run a non-profit) and their two little kids help ground them. unlike them, they would not have to strategise their way into financing their secondary and tertiary education.

(but they set up little challenges for them along the way because their children are fast-becoming heirs to a throne)

they apex in their art form as the head of state. they become a true master of the game, seeing every move 100 steps in advance. they have a keen sense for what the ordinary people in their nation desire and so they are almost always popular.

somehow, world leaders seem to always offer their country the best trade deals. nobody really knows how, but the offering country’s leader always seems very grateful to them.

when there are those foolish enough to raise their sword against them, they tend to find it is blunt before the first strike. the modern strategist has very little need for war, unlike their ancestors who relied on ground conflicts and territorial expansion. the modern strategist wins the war before it has begun.

(but for good measure, they are practiced in the arts of old. if they need to conquer, you can rest assured knowing they will, in record time)

by the end of their term (either by term limit or voluntary retirement), they have earned the respect of their nation, the leaders of the world, and (most importantly) their family.

they retire (quite young) happily. they spend their days with their quickly growing children (11 & 12 now!!), whom they teach the classics and to play chess and go.

their kids somehow drag them into playing fancy VR video games, with which they become quickly obsessed.

these days, they cook not for the promise of a raunchy afternoon, but to show their love for their family. (and, with their wealth, cooking is a choice, not a need)

they have come to appreciate their gifts more wholistically, still holding close their zeal for conquest, for strategy, for dominance. they still obsess over strange and ancient battles, still read books obsessively.

but they have come to settle in, leaving the battles of today to the new generation of strategists. they pass the baton, feeling all too comfortable being a warrior in a garden.

as they sit and gaze from their city views in the nicest neighbourhood in town, they watch their children excel in chess and debating. they watch them develop interests in politics. in history. in games. from a mentor’s distance, they watch as the sun rises on a new generation of academic planners who refine and develop the unique skillset of keeping our world safe and prosperous.

gloria principibus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

typical (but not exclusive) star signs: libra, scorpio

favourite films: red sparrow, thirteen days, wargames

favourite books: The Prince (Machiavelli) but honestly give them anything relating to political shifts or military conflict, especially niche and relatively unknown ones, and they will be entertained for hours.

guilty pleasure: anything by Tom Clancy (including the films), Paradox games, Call of Duty with pizza on a Friday night with their high school friends

real life examples: Napoleon, Genghis Khan

fictional examples: Mycroft Holmes, Artemis Fowl.

Myers-Briggs: their true one is probably ENTJ, but these tests are so predictable that they will get whatever result might benefit them in the moment.

[brood-mother]

furiosa spoilers and mediocre ranting under cut

insane amount of cgi and TERRIBLE quality cgi at that. there's a permanent and very obvious greenscreen halo around the cast about 75% of the time. i knew it wasn't going to be as practical stunts/effects heavy as the first one bc that production was A Lot, but like...why do we have cg dogs when they don't DO anything that normal dogs can't do, why do we have cg riders falling off their bikes at low speed onto sand in long shots when that's basic party stunts 101, why do we have cg furisoa on a cg bike cresting a hill when that's not even a stunt that's literally just a drone shot of someone riding in a straight line? if you're going to throw cgi at the audience hand over fist WHY are the action sequences significantly more pedestrian and boring than any in fury road? there's so much cgi that it makes the cast look like shit because hardly anyone is properly reacting to anything that's happening around them

i'd say it was full of plotholes if it ever had a plot with enough substance to poke holes it, but otherwise its just full of inconsistencies and stupid shit that yoinks you out of whatever verisimilitude you can scrape together. there's so much random shit flung at the wall that means nothing and goes nowhere. her hair? nobody else aging during the time jump? dementus's seizure? rictus's interest? the cape that defies time and space? the tattoo? the people eater and bullet farmer just hangin around at joe's place like a couple of blokes who do fuck all (tag them)?

WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT OF THE OTHER IMPERATOR? jack or whoever? there was like a weird implication of romantic feelings but they didn't know each other, were hanging out in silence for like a couple of hours, touched foreheads, then he died off screen? there was ZERO set up ZERO chemistry ZERO interest ZERO plot or character development, ZERO point to any of it other than a half hearted attempt at shoehorning in something vaguely heterosexual. either he should have been introduced way way way earlier in the film, or - in my obviously objectively and highly educated opinion - it should have been another (older) woman/outsider like furiosa who actually taught her the ropes and how to live in that world and gave a shit about her, sorta like furiosa to the wives in fury road. but instead it was Just Some Fucking Bloke who idk thought she was hot or whatever

it feels shamelessly miscast, like they really just googled whoever was the most popular young white actress atm and rolled with it. atj was Not It. she was literally out-acted by the child actress who plays baby furiosa. her interpretation of "traumatised reticent revenge-driven badass" was blank face/big watery eyes, same as every single other role she's ever played. and don't get me wrong, sometimes that works for a role, but it sure wasn't this one. there is absolutely nothing about her that reads 'dangerous' or 'tough', if you don't have the gravitas then you need the physicality and she lacked both. comparing her performance with charlize theron is like night and DAY bc charlize has the talent and experience to know a character that doesn't emote with their face is still a role that requires ACTING.

everything that made the first movie special (imo) is largely absent. i can picture in my minds eye entire scenes and sequences from fury road YEARS after i saw it bc the cinematography, the framing, the score, the colour, the purposefully staged almost shakespearean dialogue, the sound design, the action, the amazing side characters, EVERYTHING came together to make something that was really gorgeous. you could take a frame from nearly anywhere in the movie and it would look like an art print. that's almost completely absent from furiosa. i finished it like 5 hours ago and i don't remember ANY specific sequence, shot, frame, use of score, or singularly beautiful line.

this is an entire movie about furiosa and yet we get as much or perhaps even less character depth or growth than we do from fury road. she barely speaks, she doesn't do anything that isn't a cool action shot or silently glaring (outwith the 0.2 sec burst of anger at the end), there's no love, joy, pleasure, fear, interests, friends, hobbies, NOTHING to her character beyond "i'm kinda badass (in a purely physical sense)" and "i want to go home, i guess". is there an action movie equivalent of 'sexy lamp syndrome'? training dummy syndrome?

and finally the most egregious sin of all: refusing to show or acknowledge misogyny in ANY significant way at all despite the fact its literally the exact vehicle that's carrying the fury road arc of mad max. the able-bodied women we see in fury road and furiosa are, with the exception of the ppl in the green place and a female goon: forced breeders (wives), livestock (mother's milk), or slaves. it is a system that has misogyny built into the foundations of it by absolute necessity. it was implied to be exceptional that furiosa was a respected imperator in fr, she was clearly Something Special thus wasn't made into a slave or a milker when she was no longer 'suitable' for breeding. as a kid furiosa herself is placed with the other breeders with the intention of her becoming one someday; she is a healthy female, thus there's absolutely no other options to be considered even though she's clearly strong, capable, and reasonably smart. when she runs away (from the wife pit and later from the citadel) she pretends to be a man to protect herself with such dedication that she's essentially mute for FIFTEEN YEARS. but when she is forced to reveal her true identity on the road with her dumbfuck LAZY 'hair reveal' moment, no-one gives a shit. the war boys don't give a shit, jack doesn't give a shit, dementus and his gang don't give a shit, furiosa doesn't give a shit. she doesn't try to disguise herself again after that. she goes back to the citadel, to immy joe and rictus and the creeps she ran away from/disguised herself to avoid the attention of in the first place. they don't give a shit either. this random woman they don't know/recognise bursts into his war room after fucking up SO much guzz/bullets/vehicles/etc and starts spouting off and they...listen to her? let her do her thing? the extent to which they avoid the topic of her gender, of sexual violence and overt misogyny which is contextually unavoidable, is really conspicuous and makes the entire film feel insincere

like. for a purported girlboss pussyqueen movie that ALSO wants to pretend that no-one in the setting believes or enacts the misogyny the premise of the story is built on, there sure are inexplicably no other female characters. i think i can count maybe...6ish other women who speak in this film? there's furiosa's mum who dies in the first 10 mins, valkyrie gets two or three lines. then there's a domestic slave who gets two lines. the one (1) female goon who gets one line (maybe two, i went to the bathroom during one of the 'action' scenes she was in the background of so maybe she shouts smth idk). the two wives who get one and two lines respectively. the maggot farmer who gets two lines. im not even exaggerating, i might be off by like a line or two but that's seriously it.

literally what the fuck and who the fuck is this movie for. its not mad max enough to attract the OG fans, its not exciting or spectacular enough to get the marvel crowd, its not cinematic enough to get the letterbox gang, its not female-led enough to attract the kickass lady lovers, its not gritty or dark enough to convince grimdank or crust aficionados, and it's not got nearly enough of any of these in a reasonable mix to please people who loved fury road.

i mean ofc some people will like it or even love it more than fury road and that's fine but mannn, as a fan i felt like it was a big wet fart kinda letdown. like...4/10 standalone movie, 2/10 prequel.

ladies and gentlemen i regret to inform you that furiosa was fucking ass

[thetalesoftheworld]

Looking for Pasca Kanonno’s face

As a Tales of fan, one of my favourite things about the series is its variety of art styles yet consistency within these art styles. Sorey’s cell-shaded face is faithful to Kōsuke Fujishima’s original art style, and each new official art depicting Sorey shows him having the exact same features that make him recognisable. The same goes for Velvet, for example, whose anime-style depictions highlight Mutsumi Inomata’s original design while always being consistent in terms of eye shape, colour palette and shading style, more or less.

There are some exceptions, of course, but most characters in the series have their own 2D cell-shaded anime-style face either in the game in which they first appeared or in spin-off & crossover games. 

One exception to this rule is my favourite Tales of character, Pasca Kanonno, the (unfortunately non-playable) heroine of the PSP game Tales of the World: Radiant Mythology. Not only does her face change with each official artwork, some elements of her design also differ from one drawing to another.

The main reason her face keeps changing, in my opinion, is because she has never had the same face to begin with.

Her official artwork by Minoru Iwamoto looks nothing like the skit images used in TotW:RM in terms of art style and even in the colour palette used.

The skit images themselves don’t really make Pasca Kanonno look like a Tales of character: the eye shape and the iris/pupil shading are very basic and simplistic, making her look a little too generic and soulless for the series.

In the game’s opening, Kanonno once again changes art styles. She still looks like the official artwork, even if less bubbly-looking, but her haircut, eyeshape, colour palette and expressions look once again different from Kanonno’s skit faces in the game. 

On the game cover, Kanonno looks once again different from her in-game skit faces and her depiction in the opening, and even though she looks very similar to the official artwork, she still looks like she was drawn by someone else.

None of these 2D depictions are bad, of course, but the lack of consistency from the beginning has given birth to a long tradition of constantly drawing Pasca Kanonno differently in official artworks.

Somebody somewhere probably noticed the discrepancy between Kanonno’s original skit image and her design, and that’s how we got extremely close to finally having a face for Pasca Kanonno in Tales of the World: Radiant Mythology 3.

Pasca was redrawn and given specific features that distanced her from the two other Kanonnos while looking like both her official artwork and original skit face. She also finally looked like she belonged in a Tales of game, and had a Mystic Arte image that re-used the exact same colours and looked consistent in art style. The only problem here is the fact that her grey dress is supposed to stop just above the orange lace bow and not around her neck, but because of how close to perfection these artworks are, I never really minded. This should have been, in my opinion, how she should have been drawn from then on. Unfortunately, until very recently, no official artwork of Pasca Kanonno looked as close to the idea of a consistent, Tales-like official face as these did.

I divided official artworks of Pasca Kanonno in her original costume into three different categories:

- THE BAD ONES

Bad depictions of Pasca Kanonno usually involve weirdly/poorly-drawn eyes, an eyeshape/haircut that’s inconsistent compared to other official artworks, or a general art-style that doesn’t really radiate Tales of energy. They aren’t bad drawings per se, they just look more like fan art than official artworks.

- THE OKAY ONES

“Okay” depictions of Pasca Kanonno are drawn in a style that is “Tales of”-like, and look like they could be used as a status image for the character, but there’s still something off. Either the eyes are too different from the TotW:RM3 official artworks, or the flower on her head is too small/big/lacks the orange center, or I’m just looking for whatever reason not to say they’re good enough. They were good enough while we didn’t have better artworks, but lack something now that we’ve got better depictions.

- THE ALMOST PERFECT ONES

Tales of the Rays introduced Pasca Kanonno’s first official dialogue/skit image, and even though it was extremely faithful to the character’s design, and resembled the TotW:RM3 skit face, there’s something about her eyes and haircut that make her seem different from the RM3 artworks. The same comments can be made about Pasca’s latest 5* Asteria depiction. They both could have had a tiny white space between the iris and the top line of the eye to make her look more like the original design, the cover artwork and the ToTW:RM3 skit face, and therefore more alive. The hair also seems a bit flat in comparison.

- THE PERFECT ONES

These ones I can’t really explain what exactly it is that makes them perfect but I’ll try. For the 6* Asteria picture, it’s almost everything. The pose, the colours, the eye shape, the shading, the face, the expression, and so on. It could totally replace the TotW:RM3 mystic arte image that’s slightly incorrect design-wise (even though I love it). If I were to add something, it would be a line below the eye to mirror the TotW:RM3 eye style but other than that, it is everything I’ve been waiting for for the past 12 years or so. This picture should replace the Rays awakened image, and should be used in all future spin-off/crossover games imo.

The other one used for 25th anniversary merchandise & promotional material could totally replace any Pasca Kanonno status image. It has everything good about the Tales of the Rays skit image while adding some elements present in the TotW:RM3 one such as the hair style that truly made her appear more unique.

So there have been attempts in the past few years (ever since Pasca was released in Rays) to give Pasca a signature face and staying consistent, and so far, I’m rather satisfied. Even though the Rays skit image is good enough as it is, I believe it should have stayed even more faithful to the TotW:RM3 skit face in terms of eye and hair shape. Slight changes could have made these skit images an official reference in terms of design rather than just the first close-to-perfection depiction of Pasca Kanonno since RM3. 

I edited Kanonno’s skit images to look more faithful to the RM3 design and I’m honestly bummed at the missed opportunity. Seeing how they drew her bangs almost identically, it’s clear they had the RM3 image as reference, so it’s a shame they didn’t keep the hair and eye shape exactly the same as well. But then again, as she doesn’t have an official, consistent face design, it’s up to personal preference to determine what’s a good and what’s a bad design.

I feel bad for the people who prefer the RM1 skit image but I’m personally glad they distanced themselves from it after release and never went back.

Can’t wait to see more Pasca Kanonno official artworks in the future. Hoping for a TotW:RM trilogy remaster or remake but it’ll probably never happen, sadly.

[sunsoothed]

package deal

chayenzo friends i am back! this time we have fwb chayenzo “accidentally” calling each other endearments. for the sake of this short fic they speak informally.

word count: 703

(sorry for any errors in advance)

hope you like it!

-

It starts, as most things do, at Jipuragi Law Firm. It’s a lazy day of no new leads and uncooperative administrative figureheads. Even the tenants are quiet, surprisingly busy in their own work.

Vincenzo sits at the table, frowning through some document. Chayoung looks up at him occasionally, thinks about how they could be spending their time in a much more satisfying way, looks back at the files she’s combing through.

‘… the events. The production of BLSD was halted for three weeks earlier in the year due to its harmful effects on the human body, but Babel, using revolutionary technology, managed to…’

Chayoung frowns. Didn’t that damn paper report something completely different last week?

“Jagiya, can you pass me last Wednesday’s paper? Daechung Daily. Or last Tuesday. Wait,” Chayoung shakes her head. “Give me both days’.”

“Sure,” Vincenzo hums. He stands and heads behind her, to the side of the plants, where a pile from the ground-up of newspapers lies. “Are you sure we kept Daechung Daily, though?”

“Aah,” Chayoung bites her lip. “No, I don’t think we did. I’ll check online.”

 He stands behind her, one hand on the back of her chair as he leans to read over her shoulder. “What do you need it for, though?”

“Inconsistencies in the reporting of BLSD. They just said the production was halted for three weeks earlier this year.”

“As far as we’re aware, it passed all health checkpoints with flying colours.”

“Mmhm,” Chayoung hums, smug. She taps her fingers impatiently against the table as the webpage loads.

Vincenzo sighs, covering her hands with his own. “Patience, byeonhosa-nim.”

The page loads.

“Okay, Tuesday, last week. Babel’s Revolutionary BLSD... — wow, they can’t even come up with new adjectives.”

Vincenzo scoffs.

“Well, it isn’t much, but it’s something.” Chayoung nods to herself. “Here, see: BLSD, the miracle chemical, has passed every health checkpoint according to the Medical Regulations Act of bullshit bullshit bullshit.”

Vincenzo leans in closer to read the small font. “This is horrible journalism.”

“No shit.”

Chayoung and Vincenzo jump, startled out of their wits.

“Surprised to see me?” Mr. Nam asks. “I don’t doubt it. You both always act like you’re the only ones here.”

-

The next time it happens is too early in the morning. Chayoung, starfished and snoring, lies atop a very awake Vincenzo. Inzaghi is at it again. Chayoung shifts once, minutely, tucks her head better against Vincenzo’s bare chest, and returns to the land of the sleeping. Inzaghi, the fucker, continues its attempts to create noise pollution.

Vincenzo sighs and blinks at the ceiling. Chayoung is dead meat on him, her frequent loud breaths creating one steady rhythm. Vincenzo brings an unconscious hand to her hair, gingerly brushing through it, lightly scratching her scalp. It feels nice. To touch someone like this. To treasure someone like this.

Vincenzo exhales softly, keeps his hand in her hair. They have a long road ahead of them; more stressful nights, more taxing hours of work, more times they’ll have to depend on each other in the most carnal of ways. More nights, more hours, more times he’ll have to keep his obvious eyes to himself.

“Tesoro mio,” He mumbles. “What am I supposed to do now?”

-

There is one day of fluctuating weather where Chayoung hands Vincenzo his coffee order, mutters a quiet, here, jagiya, and Vincenzo accepts with a soft thank you, tesoro mio. The weather takes a turn for the warmer that evening, when Vincenzo and Chayoung stare at each other for too long across the room and sleep in their pyjamas, curled up in the same single bed with the light of day still fading.

-

And so it goes, jagiya this and jagiya that, and don’t look at me like that, tesoro, I know you’re plotting something horrible.

Mr. Nam routinely stares between the two of them in their own world, between their irritating back-and-forth and their horrible, horrible attempts at acting like there’s nothing going on behind the closed doors of their homes.

An irritating but efficient package deal, that’s what these two are. Yes, he thinks to himself, as he watches Chayoung stuff Vincenzo’s mouth with tteokbokki. He shakes his head. Package deal, these two.

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[minetteskvareninova]

#why do they need 'realism' in a world where ice zombies and dragons exist

I don't even think it's about "realism", necessarily! The silhouettes in GoT have nothing to do with realism and neither does the lack of colours. The costumes in The Borgias are some of the most realistic Renessaince costumes on television. They also look like this:

(I also have some files of Victoria ITV which would prove my point about as well, but anyway.)

Like, realism doesn't equal dullness! In fact, in some contexts, the exact opposite is true! Hell, Magnificent Century was actually pretty good about this - compare the limited and often reused wardrobe of random servants, with the simple dresses worn by lower-class women like, say, Helena on the one hand and the luxurious gowns of their mistresses.

But yeah, Magnificent Century drip is generally beauty over realism, and while I wish it was both, I also can't deny that the costumes are still absolutely iconic. Yes, they are stylistically a bit inconsistent and overly modern, but guess what, so are GoT-verse costumes. Like if you are going for a pure fantasy, you might as well go big. GoT-verse mostly goes home.

if i could photoshop good i would give alicent the emerald crown hurrem has this episode

[presumenothing]

heyooo this is probably a weird question, but what's ur learning process exactly? like you've been doing the gifs thing, and you seem pretty knowledgeable, so i was curious

not weird at all!! i just (a) don't know how informative this answer is gonna be, and (b) have clearly deceived you into thinking i know anything at all ever, because while i do in fact Know some things my decision making process also literally looks like this:

though in terms of what i Know about the particular sort of gifs thing i like, i literally just posted this which is a hilarious coincidence

but you asked me about my learning process, so!! i have to add a term and condition (singular) here that i'm apparently an unusually fast learner for anything not requiring hand-eye coordination, but that aside… insofar as i have any Process™ it goes something like this:

decide to do the thing. in this case it was "fell into the zhou shen pit" meets "be the content you want to see in the world"

start doing the thing as quickly as possible. i don't wanna say strike while the iron is hot but.... there is truth to that. my first gif wasn't great but it was there

read a lot. i'm sorry, video tutorials, i'm sure you have actual content to offer but also 99% of the time i do not care. fortunately most tumblr posts where the gif tutorials are continue to be in text (never change)

though what and how i read has shifted over time, from initially reading pretty much every general gif related tutorial i found (there is so much So Much to read about colouring) to narrowing down to specific things i'm interested in

aside from more standard gifs (mostly interview gifs? probably??) i usually start out having a strong idea of what i want to make, then it's a matter of looking up or figuring out myself how to achieve the effect i want. (sometimes it's the other way around – i save a cool effect for reference and then the stars align and i get to use it!! very nice of them)

make stuff, post, and repeat. imo especially when you're just starting out to gif, it's important to set the "good enough" bar reasonably low-ish? your stuff is never gonna look as good as what experienced giffers make, at least not yet, and there's probably even a fundamental difference in how you're making your gifs that makes the comparison nonsensical.

basically you're likely to learn more and learn it more quickly by going for quantity first, especially since part of giffing is learning how to deal with inconsistencies like the source video lighting never being the same dammit. insert that story about the two halves of the pottery class here

considering that i started out with 0 knowledge aside from some dusty leftover recollection of using gimp like a decade ago, i think i'm doing pretty good! but also – and i cannot possibly overstate this – i have made a lot of gifs. the birthday countdown alone was more than a hundred. some things you just learn by doing

(if this sounded suspiciously like "step 1: get hamster brain obsessed with one thing step 2: ???? step 3: Profit" that's because it pretty much is. it's the most effective and fun way i learn anything. the lifehack is always to catch your brain with the correct bait)

(the other lifehack is to have some organisation, even if not in any form recognisable to polite society. my gif stuff is in the realm of tidy because i have a channel in my notes to self server literally called giffing where i put everything from "cool thing i saw" to "thing i want to gif" to "not even sure this effect is in the realm of possibility but it would be Cool yknow??". my fic stuff, on the other hand,,,)

[6ix-dragons]

My Overall Impressions of the Edens Zero Anime

Originally, I wanted to do an initial impressions post of the Edens Zero anime, for the first few episodes. Then, it changed to cover the first 12. However, with the 25th, and final episode (of the first season) having premiered on Saturday, I felt like I wanted to give my overall impressions of the anime, instead. I’ve seen all 25 episodes, including the final one—and, there are a whole bunch of things I wanted to talk about. So, let’s get started!

ART STYLE AND ANIMATION

First, let’s talk about the art style, and the animation. Before the first episode came out, I honestly had a bit of reservation in my mind, having known beforehand of what animation studio is in charge of the anime adaptation, and the previews of the character designs. However, when the first episode came out, I was quite surprised at how well it was, when it came to both the art direction, and the animation.

While the character designs aren’t as exact, as what they are in the original manga, they are at least much closer to them. Where the art style/direction is best found, happens to be in scenes that involve the environment around the characters. Shots of landscapes, like the buildings in the planet of Bluegarden, and the Ether pillars in Norma, are the better examples of how great the art direction is. Even the shots of outer space, especially with the planets (despite how different they looked compared to their manga counterparts), are another example of it. It just makes the world in the anime more lively.

However, there can be some parts in every episode, where the art style is inconsistent. Of course, there will always be characters, and other objects that are off-model in far-away shots. For the most part, ‘though, the art style is pretty much consistent, from scene to scene, on every episode. Colours are used appropriately, with duller colours used in the more serious parts of the story—such as the latter-half of the Sun Jewel arc.

When it comes to the animation quality, it’s about as good as the art direction that i covered above. The quality of the animation doesn’t vary all too wildly, but, much like the art style, it can get inconsistent in certain parts for every episode. Where you’ll find the best animation, however, is in the chase and battle scenes. An example of that can be found in the first episode, when Shiki took on Lord Castellan. Even more examples I can think of, includes: The part where Shiki and Rebecca are being chased by Sibir, in Norma; the first time the “Leaper” ability was activated, in Sun Jewel; and, when Shiki took on Madame Kurenai, in that same arc.

Now, I’m going to dedicate this part of this section to talk, rather briefly, about the CGI used in the anime. I was actually surprised to see it being used, in certain scenes—with the titular battleship seen in space, for instance. Another example I can think of, is Sibir’s Knight Gear, in Norma, as well as Kurenai’s, in Sun Jewel. Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with CGI being used in any visual medium (whether it be live-action shows, movies, or even anime)...as long as it’s done well. That wasn’t the case here, with this anime. I would rather see something like the battleships be hand-drawn, rather than in CGI, where the results would look out-of-place, instead.

Issues with the CGI, and inconsistent animation, aside, we can at least attribute the better parts of the art style and animation, to the team at J.C. Staff—particularly, with two key members of that team: The chief animator, Kenichiro Aoki...and the director of the anime, himself, Yuji Suzuji. It’s rather unfortunate to know that Mr. Suzuji had passed away, last month, knowing that he had made his contributions to the team, as the anime’s director. I tip my hat to him, and to all the other members of the entire team responsible for making this anime adaptation.

VOICE ACTING AND AUDIO/SOUND

Alright, let’s talk about voice acting, and the audio/sound. I was also a little concerned, before the first episode even came out, when the voice actors/actresses were first announced. However, after watching the previews—and then the first episode, my concerns were put to rest. I feel like all of the characters featured in the anime sounded much like I thought they were, and that the voice actors/actresses really nailed down their parts quite well. 

I also thought the same for the voice actors/actresses, in the English dub version (when the anime came out on Netflix). It’s only the first 12 episodes, so far, but I was genuinely impressed at their performances. While it isn’t the same as the original JP version of the anime, I thought they all sounded as close to their other counterparts. 

The rest of the audio/sound was also impressive, too, with proper mixing in certain scenes that feature intense action, as well as in quieter scenes. Furthermore, the music used in the anime also helped add to the impact of those scenes. There’s a mix of orchestral music, and guitar rock that’s featured in the anime—although, given the sci-fi and tech elements featured in it, too, I would’ve liked the inclusion of EDM, techno, and dubstep (I’m partly-serious about those).

Finally, let’s talk about the songs used in the first opening intro, and ending...as well as for the second opening intro, and ending. I know that T.M. Revolution does make music that gets used in anime (Gundam SEED and SEED Destiny, for instance), and “Eden Through the Rough” is a real banger. The song featured in the first ending—”Bouken no Vlog”, by CHiCO with HoneyWorks, conveys the lighter tone in the first cour of the anime.

For the songs featured in the second intro and ending, however...I’m actually inclined to agree with some who argue that both these songs are appropriate for the second intro. What I will fully agree, however, is that both these songs also convey the darker tone of the second cour. Regardless, I thought all of these songs, as well as the entire OST, are perfectly-suited for the anime, as a whole.

CONTENT COVERED

As far as the content covered from the manga goes, I’d say the anime does it well, for the most part. In terms of the arcs that the first season covers, it covers the introduction arc, all the way to the end of the Sun Jewel arc. 

I did notice that there were some changes made to the anime, from its source material. And, I would say that these changes are being made, for better or worse, depending on what you prefer. Already, I’ve seen a few instances of this, in the first episode, where they cut out the part in the manga where Rebecca discovers they are being taken by hostage robots on Granbell Island. There was also a part in the manga, during the Digitalis arc, where Rebecca yells at everyone about their sleeping habits. That was never present, at all, in the anime. 

When it comes to blood and nudity, however, the former is more inconsistent than the latter. With blood, first of all, it is present where you’d think it would be (especially so, if you’ve read the manga first). Examples of this, would be the flashback with Rebecca and Happy being involved in a traffic accident, and when Shiki punched Kurenai’s Knight Gear with only his bare fist. However, you also have scenes where blood should’ve been present, like when Spider/Jamilov was shot dead by Seth. In the manga, he was clearly bleeding out, unlike in the anime. 

For nudity, I did mention it is more consistent than blood—but, only in that it is consistently censored out. While, yes, the original manga does block out full-frontal nudity, the anime adaptation takes this much further. One glaring example of this, is when Rebecca is changing into new clothes, in the Sun Jewel arc—just before taking on Nino. In the anime, we only see her from the shoulders up, while the panel in the manga reveals more of her upper torso. 

Now, I can understand the decisions made to censor/tone down the blood and nudity. However, as the anime is aired on Japanese television late at night, it doesn’t make much sense to do so. In spite of all this, however, these kinds of changes haven’t really taken away my viewing experience of the anime.

As Edens Zero is made by Hiro Mashima, you can expect easter eggs from his other, previous works, much like in the manga. You have your standard Fairy Tail cameos, such as Team Shadow Gear in the Shooting Starlight guild, the usual Natsu and Lucy appearance—and, the triumphant return of the “Wow!” sound effect.

So, yeah, for the most part, the anime adaptation does follow the source material. There’s changes that some may or may not want, as well as a few additions to certain parts: I believe the scene where Shiki gets chased around by Kurenai’s Knight Gear was extended a little bit, compared to what happened in the manga.

CONCLUSION

Before I give my overall impressions on the first season of the anime, I just wanted to mention the preview for the second season—for those who have watched the final episode. I’ve read the manga beforehand, and from what I’ve seen in the preview...I can’t wait, until the next season comes out. I just can’t wait for what they will pull off, in that upcoming season.

Overall, I’m impressed with the anime adaptation, from start to finish. I do recommend this for anyone else, not just as a fan of Edens Zero (and Mashima’s works)...but, as someone who has watched anime, in general. It does a more than decent job at covering the story arcs from the manga, in spite of the issues it has—art style, animation, and censorship. 

Is it a flawless, excellent anime? No, but it certainly is alright enough to give it a peek, if you’re interested. Again, I just can’t wait to see what they have in store, for season two. Here’s hoping, with the next season, they will improve from the first.

[raptured-night]

Hello, I have two questions this time. Why do you think we can’t really compare Death Eaters to Nazis? Why can’t we really compare purism with racism? Oh and do you think Death Eaters are more like nowadays’ terrorists or not?

So, it's no secret that I have drawn attention to the issue of Death Eaters being treated as literal stand-ins for Nazis or blood purism as a literal example of racism. Importantly, there is a difference between acknowledging the ways that Death Eaters or blood purity might work as semi-functional allegories for the Nazis and their ideology, white supremacy, racism, etc., and treating fictional representations of invented prejudices as if they were comparable or on par with non-fictional Nazi ideology, white supremacy, or systemic racism.

An article for Medium makes this point very well:

Silent resisters and ‘I don’t really care about politics’ people deserve our contempt. But what makes those who filter life through fiction and historical revisionism worse is that they are performing a soggy simulacrum of political engagement.

As a woman of colour watching, all I can do here is amplify the call to step away from your bookshelf. Let go of The Ring. My humanity exists independently of whether I am good or bad, and regardless of where the invented-fictional-not-real Sorting Hat puts me.

Realise that people are in danger right now, with real world actions needed in response, and not just because you want to live out your dreams of being Katniss Everdeen.

The problem with discussing Harry Potter’s fictional examples of prejudice as if they were literal or completely comparable with real-life prejudices is that it does lead to an oversimplification of the reality of prejudice (whether white supremacy, racism, homophobia, transphobia --looking at you Jo-- or otherwise) and the very real people who experience these prejudices every day. The fantasy of being Harry Potter up against Umbridge or Voldemort in a YA series where the line between the good and bad guys is almost clearly denoted by the narrator is a far cry from the reality of what activism is or what living under oppression is like for many marginalized people. 

I would argue that this is also a leading reason why the “social justice” (yes, in many cases I believe that deserves to be enclosed in dubious quotations) discourse in Harry Potter fandom trends more towards performative than it does sincere (one need only look at the defense posts for Rowling in response to real marginalized groups criticizing her for things ranging from her offensive representation of Asian people, Indigenous and Native peoples, or her failures in representing the lgbtq+ community particularly in light of her coming out as an open TERF and they can get an idea of how those “I’m an intersectional feminist/social justice ally and that’s why I read HP!” fans quickly shift gears to throw the bulk of their allyship behind Rowling instead) because when you spend all of your time debating fictional prejudices it’s much easier to detach oneself from the reality of non-fictional prejudice and its impact on real people.

Fiction has no stakes. There is a beginning, middle, and end. In Rowling’s fictional world, Harry Potter ends with Harry and “the side of light” the victor over her allegorical representation of evil and he gets his happily-ever-after in a world we are led to believe is at peace and made a better place. In the real world, decades after the fall of Hitler, there are still Nazis and white supremacists who believe in the glory of an Aryan/pure-white race and are responsible for acts of violence towards marginalized groups; even after the fall of the Confederacy in the U.S. we are still debating the removal of monuments erected in their honor (and the honor of former slave owners and colonialists like Christopher Columbus) while the nation continues mass protests over the systemic police brutality Black people and other people of color have long faced (not to mention the fact the KKK are still allowed to gather while the FBI conspired to destroy the Black Panther Party and discredit them as a dangerous extremist organization).

As a professor in literature, I’ve often argued that fiction can be a reflection of reality and vice versa. Indeed, it can be a subversive tool for social change and resistance (e.g. Harlem Renaissance) or be abused for the purposes of propaganda and misrepresentation (e.g. Jim Crow era racism in cartoons). So, I am not underscoring the influencing power of fiction but I do believe it is important that when attempting to apply fictional representations to real-world issues we do so with a certain awareness of the limitations of fiction. As I have already observed, there is an absence of real-world stakes for fiction. Fictional stories operate under a narrative structure that clearly delineates the course they will take, which is not the case for real life. In addition, the author’s own limitations can greatly affect the way their fiction may reflect certain non-fictional issues. Notably, a close reading of Harry Potter does reveal the way Rowling’s own transphobic prejudices influenced her writing, not least in the character of Rita Skeeter (but arguably even in her failed allegory for werewolves, which are supposed to reflect HIV prejudices, but she essentially presented us with two examples of werewolves that are either openly predatory towards children or accidentally predatory because they canonically can’t control themselves when their bodies undergo “transformations” that make them more dangerous and no surprise her most predatory example, Fenrir Greyback, seems to have embraced his transformation entirely versus Lupin who could be said to suffer more from body dysmorphia/shame). 

Ultimately, fiction is often a reflection of our non-fictional reality but it is not always an exact reflection. It can be a simplification of a more complex reality; a funhouse mirror that distorts that reality entirely, or the mirror might be a bit cracked or smudged and only reflecting a partial image. Because fiction does have its limits (as do authors of fiction), writers have certain story-telling conventions on hand through which they can examine certain aspects of reality through a more vague fictional lens, such as metaphor, symbolism, and allegory. Thus, the Death Eaters can function on an allegorical level without being problematic where they cannot when we treat them as literal comparisons to Nazis or white supremacist groups (particularly when we show a greater capacity for empathy and outrage over Rowling’s fictional prejudice, to the extent we’ll willingly censor fictional slurs like Mudblood, than we do real-world examples of racism and racial microaggressions). As an allegory, Voldemort and his Death Eaters can stand in for quite a few examples of extremism and prejudice that provoke readers to reflect more on the issue of how prejudice is developed and how extremist hate-groups and organizations may be able to rise and gain traction. Likewise, blood prejudice looked at as a fictional allegory goes a lot further than when we treat it as a literal comparison to racism, wherein it becomes a lot more problematic. 

I’ve discussed this before at length, along with others, and I will share some of those posts to give a better idea of some of the issues that arise when we try to argue that Voldemort was a literal comparison to Hitler, the Death Eaters were literal comparisons to Nazi, or that blood purity is a literal comparison to racism.

On the issue of blood prejudice as racism and Death Eaters as Nazis, per @idealistic-realism00.

On the issue of blood prejudice as racism, my own thoughts.

On the issue of Death Eaters and literal Nazi comparisons, per @deathdaydungeon and myself. 

Finally, as I have already argued, the extent to which fiction can function as a reflection of non-fictional realities can be limited by the author’s own perceptions. In the above links, you will note that I and others have critiqued Rowling’s portrayal of prejudice quite thoroughly and identified many of the flaws inherent in her representations of what prejudice looks like in a real-world context. The very binary (i.e. good/bad, right/wrong, dark/light) way that she presents prejudice and the fact that her villains are always clearly delineated and more broadly rejected by the larger society undermines any idea of a realistic representation of prejudice as systemic (we could make a case for an effort being made but as her narrative fails to ever properly address prejudice as systemic in any sort of conclusive way when taken along with her epilogue one can argue her representation of systemic prejudice and its impact fell far short of the mark, intended or otherwise). In addition to that, the two most notable protagonists that are part of her marginalized class (i.e. Muggle-born) are two comfortably middle-class girls, one of whom is clearly meant to be white (i.e. Lily) and the other who is most widely associated with the white actress (Emma Watson) who played her for over a decade before Rowling even hinted to the possibility Hermione could also be read as Black due to the casting of Noma Dumezweni for Cursed Child.

Overall, Rowling is clearly heavily influenced by second-wave feminist thought (although I would personally characterize her as anti-feminist having read her recent “essay,” and I use the term loosely as it was primarily a polemic of TERF propaganda, defending her transphobia, and reexamined the Harry Potter series and her gender dichotomy in light of her thoughts on “womanhood”) and as far as we are willing to call her a feminist, she is a white feminist. As a result, the representation of prejudice in Harry Potter is a distorted reflection of reality through the lens of a white feminist whose own understanding of prejudice is limited. Others, such as @somuchanxietysolittletime and @ankkaneito have done well to point out inconsistencies with Rowling’s intended allegories and the way the Harry Potter series overall can be read as a colonialist fantasy. So, for all of these reasons, I don’t think we should attempt to make literal comparisons between Rowling’s fictional examples of prejudice to non-fictional prejudice or hate groups. The Death Eaters and Voldemort are better examined as more of a catch-all allegory for prejudice when taken to it’s most extreme. Aicha Marhfour makes an important point in her article when she observes:

Trump isn’t himself, or even Hitler. He is Lord Voldemort. He is Darth Vader, or Dolores Umbridge — a role sometimes shared by Betsy DeVos or Tomi Lahren, depending on who you’re talking to. Obama is Dumbledore, and Bernie Sanders is Dobby the goddamn house elf. Republicans are Slytherins, Democrats are Gryffindors.

The cost of making these literal comparisons between Voldemort or the Death Eaters to other forms of extremism, perceived evil, or hate is that we impose a fictional concept over a non-fictional reality and unintentionally strip the individual or individuals perpetrating real acts of prejudice or oppression of some of their accountability. I can appreciate how such associations may help some people cope and for the readers of the intended age category of Harry Potter (i.e. YA readers) it might even be a decent primer to understanding real-world issues. However, there comes a point where we must resist the impulse to draw these comparisons and go deeper. Let Voldemort and the Death Eaters exist as allegories but I think it is important we all listen to what many fans of color, Jewish fans, lgbtq+ fans, etc. are saying and stop trying to fit a square peg into a round hole by treating these fictional characters and their fictional prejudices as if they were just as real, just as impactful, and just as deserving of our empathy and outrage as the very real people who are living daily with very real prejudices --because they’re not equal and they shouldn’t be.