#i might be colorblind but i know i colored them red OKAY

[bajablastable]

xerxes break and nikolai gogol.. does anyone see my vision..

[fayewoodss]

hello I am here to ask what art movements you relate to the dream team

Okay, let's do this! LONG POST! *cracks knuckles* 😤

George

I'm starting with George bc I'm a shameless Golo and he lives in my head like a worm.

I immediately associate George with expressionism. Now, this may seem strange considering his personal aesthetics are very designer streetwear and techwear, which in many way is the opposite of expressionism. However, in a lot of his wardrobe and overall personal tastes, he does have small bits of appreciation for expressionism.

For example, this Supreme shirt of his displays the piece "Reaper" by artist Josh Smith. Josh Smith is a contemporary post-modern artist and not from the original expressionist movement, but his work holds a lot of traits to expressionist artist Edvard Munch. Though I do have criticisms of Supreme and their foundation being in appropriation of Barbara Krueger, taking her anti-consumerist work and messaging to create a consumerism giant, I do admire that they've grown to collaborate, credit, and pay artists through their clothes.

(Josh Smith with Supreme and Edvard Munch)

Expressionism is very broad in style and artistry because it was the movement all about expressing personal taste and emotions through art, rather than capturing scenes as close to reality as possible (impressionism). I shared a post a few days ago about George's precious Discord profile pictures and both of them displayed a broad and vibrant spectrum of color, one being a palette knife piece and the other being a splatter piece. Now, these aren't necessarily expressionism. Like Josh Smith's work, they are post-modernist and abstract contemporary, but the usage of color and freedom in strokes puts them in a similar category.

Now, my final reasoning for George being expressionism is purely just Vincent Van Gogh. I am biased as George is my fave and Van Gogh is my fave, but recently a theory emerged about Van Gogh that he was likely red-green colorblind. When we look at Van Gogh's color palettes. He heavily relies on blues and yellows that fall within the protanopia color spectrum, whereas when he uses greens, reds, and oranges, they are often used as shading for blue and yellow. There are instances where he uses red and green with intention (his self portraits and the painting of his room), but even then when he uses red-green, it is not in a way that follows usual color theory.

It is impossible to know if Van Gogh was actually colorblind or had a color deficiency, but I do think it is a strong theory that supports his art and adds a new layer of perspective to it. Especially considering he was very unsuccessful in his lifetime and his artwork was often considered jarring and not appreciated.

George's color blindness is also fascinating to me, as per his own on stream tests, he has tested both as severe and mild, so unless we had George's vision, we don't realize exactly how much color he truly can see. But in the parasocial box in my mind, I think he would enjoy Van Gogh and expressionism as a whole.

(Vincent Van Gogh, original work left, work with protanopia filter right)

Dream

In my collage post, I mentioned impressionism for Dream, and while I do believe that to an extent, I personally think Dream might fit more into illustration and outsider art.

Illustration is an easy one to talk about because so much of his brand is simplistic and stylized in a very graphic and illustrative way. His very icon, the black and white Microsost paint smiley on the eye straining neon green, is playful, memorable, and recognizable. It's easy to replicate and remember, and through the artists and designers on his merch team, it's able to be reimagined and expanded upon.

For some context, I originally went to school for illustration, but very quickly switched into fine arts, so my knowledge of illustration as an industry is not as deep as it could be, but I know that reproduction and recognition are definitely pushed as important.

Stepping away from Dream's own branding with illustration, I think there is a strong connection from Dream to outsider art as well.

I am a huge fan of outsider art. I took multiple classes on it.I love outsider music and poetry. It is overall a movement I greatly enjoy. However, as a disclaimer, the origins of outsider art as a movement and category for art are very dubious and unethical. I won't get into all of it here, but when outsider art was initially coined, it was very exploitative of the mentally ill, disabled people, people of color, etc. I think as time has gone on and outsider art and artists alike gained audiences that were more appreciative and good faith, it has transformed into something more wholesome and celebratory.

Dream is a self-made individual. He didn't go into YouTube, content creation, and merchandising with previous learned knowledge. He's very open about being self-taught in most of his skills and endeavors. Outsider art at its core is about the uninitiated and the self-taught pursuing artistic endeavors without the fear or stress of the institution of art.

Daniel Johnston is the most notable artist within outsider music, but he was also a visual artist as well. His work is naive and honest, even when it is hamfisted and fumbled. He is genuine and truthful, but often to a fault. But he grew a cult audience that loved and appreciated him, even through his worst moments.

A little personal interjection, but I am a huge fan of Daniel and his work spoke to me through high school as someone who spent most of my life with undiagnosed autism. His death genuinely shook me and I remember the day he died so vividly that in some ways I'm still grieving. I recommend exploring his music with my whole chest, even if it may not be to your taste.

I do think in the modern world, a lot of people drawn to outsider art and the act of being self-taught in fields of interest are neurodivergent. Dream has been very open about having ADHD, and even mentioned possibly being on the [autism] spectrum (though that question was asked in a very invasive way, so I take Dream's answer with a grain of salt). I think that adds another level of connection/relation to outsider art.

I could go on and on about outsider art and how amorphous it's definitions have become, but I'll stop there for now.

(Works of Daniel Johnston)

Sapnap

In my opinion, I think Sapnap is the most open about his interests and personal aesthetics. Even if it's not a direct comment on it, he has the most furnished and decorated office, he has a clear and consistent sense of style with favored brands and imagery, and he's a big fan of anime and adult animation. He also advertises the most out of the Dream Team, so, like, get the bag, but also I'm going to tease him with art movements that directly comment on consumerism and advertisement.

Right away, I think appropriation and pop art.

Appropriation can be a scary word as we often hear it in the context of theft or bigotry. Even within the world of art, appropriation is a touchy subject as we try to define what is transformative appropriation and what is plagiarism, reference back to Supreme and Barabara Krueger.

I actually saw a Barbara Krueger show in real life, and it was nothing short of breathtaking. It was overwhelming and in your face. It was uncomfortable and eye-opening. It both meant nothing and everything as you were faced with false advertisements, bold statements, and consumerist culture.

(Barbara Krueger at the Art Institute of Chicago, 2021)

The biggest name in pop art is Andy Warhol, and when it comes to Warhol, you either hate him or you love him. The man is surrounded by controversies, both good and bad, but I won't deny his influence on contemporary art. I think his bold colors, high contrast, and play on reproduction in art all fit Sapnap's personal aesthetics, similar to Dream with illustration. But in more modern pop art, I think a lot about my friend and colleague David Hernandez. David's art is provocative and at times uncomfortable, but he uses a lot of ideas and concepts from pop art and appropriation to appeal to a more modern audience, playing into nostalgia growing up in the age of the internet in a way that is reactionary. His work can be very NSFW and outright gooner brained, so if you do seek out his art, be warned of that nature. Still, his skill is insane because he uses acrylic, oil, and spray paint to make pieces that feel as if they were done digitally.

(David Hernandez)

I hope these make sense, and maybe you even found a new artist/art movement to enjoy! I do think there is flexibility within these and plenty of other movements and artists that fit these creators (like impressionism with Dream even though I didn't include it), but these stand out to me the most as fitting their identities and personal aesthetics and interests.

If anyone has more they want to add or discuss, please reblog and/or comment because I would love to hear from others on this!

[kairiscorner]

ok, but imagine noir falling for a florist.

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <;:D)

i'd like to imagine noir would have visited your florist shop before, but never really stepped inside. he might've come across it multiple times, walked by it so often he never realized it was right there all along.

the moment he stepped in, he was entranced by how lively and colorful the place looked to him. since noir is probably colorblind or is just generally unaware which colors are which, he's so giddy when stepping inside your florist shop one day when he remembered it was aunt may's birthday.

he'd probably be staring at a bunch of marigolds and he'd inspect them closer and mutter to himself, "really outdid themselves with the purple". he might sneeze a lot around the flowers, but he didn't care, he was too entranced with how pretty the flowers were.

it wasn't until you came up to him, asking him if you could help him, that he was entranced with something, or rather, someone else--you. you weren't a flower, but all noir could be reminded of when he saw you for the first time was that you were a red rose bud, blooming in the shade.

how could he have missed you, such a beauty was hidden from his sight for... so, so long. the first thing he'd tell you when he saw you would probably have been, "...am i dead?" because the only time he'd ever witness someone with such ethereal beauty, in a haven of colors and sweet scents that, even if they tickle him to the point of allergies, he's feeling the happiest he's ever been in his whole damn life so far.

when you ask him if he's okay, he finally snaps out of his daze and, all fumbling and mumbling, he blurts out an, "i'm pretty, and you're really okay."

damn it.

he cringes a little at himself for that first, more than three word introduction. he purses his lips, and sighs to himself, with a small sneeze as he inhales the pollen again. you giggled, and when you giggled... he smiled, he smiled widely. he knew he was being a fool, a complete bumbling fool, right then and there--but you made him a happy, giddy, mushy mess of a bumbling fool.

he introduced himself to you as you helped him pick out a bouquet for aunt may. "you know, i'm really glad someone like you's helping me with this." he told you as he watched you pick all sorts of roses, carnations, and dahlias.

"how come?" you asked, turning to look at him in the eyes. he turned pink when you looked at him with your big, bright eyes--those eyes that any rational man would become a bumbling fool over. "well... i'm sure a pretty, lovely, and patient woman like you gets bouquets from guys that... don't lose themselves over your beauty in front of you." he confessed.

you giggled. "mr. parker, i hate to break it to you, but... i've never once had anyone gift me a bouquet." you admitted, looking down at the colorful array of flowers in front of you. "oh..." noir said as he looked at you, still picking flowers for aunt may's bouquet.

"wait right here." he said as he dashed off around the store. you were a little confused as to where he might've gone, but he was a grown man, and this was a small store, you didn't need to worry. not long after, noir came back with a sloppily made bouquet; the ribbon was the color of your hair, the flowers... they were all the color of your eyes.

"mr. parker..." you began, but noir handed them to you still, his gaze pointed away from you, because he was so incredibly flustered to be even doing this. "i believe that... a pretty, lovely, and patient woman such as you shouldn't have to... go without knowing she's absolutely stunning, perfect, even. you're perfect." he confessed, trying to keep his voice leveled, but his embarrassment got the best of him, and he mumbled the last bit out.

you smiled as you took the bouquet from him, admiring how some loose flowers that clashed with most of what he got you poked out a little. you chuckled as you looked up at the sweet man. "now, i can't really take any of these home, but..." you trailed off as you picked one of the flowers and tucked it behind his ear, getting on the tips of your toes to reach him.

"i'm very grateful for that, mr. parker." you said with a smile, a tinge of red on your cheeks. "no... problem." he said as he was getting redder and redder by the minute.

as you rung him up, noir couldn't stop staring and smiling at you. you smiled back at him. "hoping your aunt loves the bouquet." you tell him. "and i'm hoping i'll always see you everyday after this." he said with a small chuckle and a blush on his cheeks as he ran his fingers gently over the flower you tucked behind his ear.

[prismaticpichu]

Hi pichu!!! <3

I see a lot of people make headcanons that Sephiroth's eyes dilate like a cats' bc of the way his eyes are, but I NEVER see people think about the other stuff it'd mean!

Like wouldn't he also be colorblind since cats have different vision than we do? And I'm not an expert on cat-vision lol, but a quick Google search of what cats see show blurred peripheral vision too :o (but idk if that'd really be super accurate 😭💔)

so basically, what-if Sephiroth had bad vision lmfao 💀💔

Heya, friendo!!! Hope you’re doing well!!!

~

LMAO this is for real something that’s crossed my mind too!! 🤣🤣 Like, yes, he does have those slitted pupils… but what does that actually mean??? Welp, let’s see!!!

*does a quick google search as well, double-checking some sources*

“Scientists used to think cats were dichromats – able to only see two colors – but they're not, exactly. While feline photoreceptors are most sensitive to wavelengths in the blue-violet and greenish-yellow ranges, it appears they might be able to see a little bit of green as well. In other words, cats are mostly red-green color blind, as are many of us, with a little bit of green creeping in” - Wired.com

“What colors can cats see? Cats primarily see muted shades of blue-violet and yellow-green but are unable to perceive red, orange, and brown.” - TheWildest.com

What’s bolded in pink is what I find the most interesting, bc it made me think of two REALLY interesting things:

1. Sephiroth can’t see Genesis’s stylish red outfit. Ouch!!

2. Sephiroth cannot see the color of the blood he sheds, nor the angry orange that SWALLOWED NIBELHEIM WHOLE… ouch.

In terms of peripheral vision…!

“Cats have a wider field of view — about 200 degrees, compared with humans' 180-degree view. Cats also have a greater range of peripheral vision, all the better to spot that mouse (or toy) wriggling in the corner.” - LiveScience.com

In ADDITION:

“Depth perception in vertical slit pupils is even better than in round pupils because the smaller animals are closer to the ground. Additionally, having vertical slits allows them to better hunt at night, thus, these animals are more likely to be nocturnal.” - DirtyClassroom.com

“Predatory animals with vertical slit pupils, like cats and many snakes, can maintain sharp focus across the horizontal field of view and more accurately judge distance to their prey. Horizontal slit pupils, on the other hand, sacrifice image sharpness at the left and right edges in return for wider peripheral vision.” - LifeScience.com

Okay!! So we know that Sephiroth has vertically-slitted pupils, meaning that his depth perception is more enhanced than ours!! 😂 Cats, on top of that, also have better peripheral vision than us rounded-pupil folk!! This man truly is superior lmaooooooooo!!

~

HOWEVER, it is just really funny to imagine Sephiroth needing glasses xDD Like… the strongest fella in all the land needing to slide on some spectacles in order to read a menu dhdhdhdhdhh!!! Them darn WORDS!! 🤣

Anyyywhoooo, this has been your impromptu research session from Professor Pichu 😂❤️ Plz feel free to take out an independent study material for the rest of class!

[bondsmagii]

I've got a treat for you

okay so right off the bat I am colorblind. I just realized this alone might give away who I am to some of the people following your blog. eh, fuck it. we balling.

I have protanopia. my color wheel is a strong assortment of green, brown, yellow, and blue. everything else I cant see. no purples, no reds. none of that shit.

double homicide right here is the fact that I draw and do art. ouch.

I pretty much sat down and forced myself to memorize the location of colors on a color wheel in order to figure out what colors I need and where. turns out, sometimes I try to make a color more prominent by taking the colors I cant see and making them more intense.

I have, for the longest time, been getting CW on my works for color warnings. I never know why. like its like CW: Color. and I never understood.

until now.

turns out, when I overcompensate my missing colors, I end up making them WAY too bright, and creates a heavy eyestrain.

I'VE BEEN BLINDING MY POOR MUTUALS.

oh my GOD lmao. this is absolutely brilliant. I remember hearing a story once about somebody getting asked about their interesting colour choices for their art, assuming it was a conscious artistic choice, but then they were like "what do you mean?" because it looked fine to them but guess what. colourblind. they thought they were using green but they were not.

colour vision is honestly one of those things that absolutely fascinates me because there is such variation. I wonder how the world looks through other people's eyes a lot, because I have insane colour vision and I'm out here seeing shrimp colours, and I do wonder what the world looks like to others. especially as I'm a photographer, so when I fiddle around with my camera's settings in order to make it more accurately represent what I see with the naked eye, I wonder if it looks weird or over-saturated to somebody with more average colour vision.

fun fact about this is that even in the dead of night I never see black, just varying shades of indigo, so I'm a good person to follow in a haunted house or whatever. trust me. follow me unquestioningly.

[sachermorte]

Like okay, 19th century painters, right? If you were gonna go back in time and get a portrait from someone the list is like this:

Renoir: MAYBE. He is a terrible draftsmen and actually the least technically skilled of the impressionists but sometimes he makes people look pretty. Other times he makes them look bruised. 50/50. Best not to go with him.

Manet: solid choice, edgy but not too edgy. Will use nice rich jewel tones. Put him on your list.

Monet: if you want an impressionist he's your guy. Pretty straightforwards. You will look good and there will be tons of sunlight.

Van Gogh: it'll be awesome but you might also be green and yellow. Literally. If you've always wanted to know what you'd look like with unnatural skin colors go for Van Gogh. Don't bother trying to pronounce his name just call him Vincent. Maybe give the poor guy some antidepressants. He's a delicate sad soul but desperately broke so tip him heavily. He will cry having made money on a painting. Also tell him to stop eating yellow paint. Definitely get a portrait from him.

Degas: you'll either be a ballerina or a prostitute. Maybe even both. Somehow there will be diagonal lines in your portrait. Consider it.

Moreau: are you a woman who wants to know what you look like through the eyes of a man who is literally terrified of women??? Then this guy is for you! You may be framed with sperm.

Klimt: like Moreau except with less misogyny and sperm and more gold. Good choice if you want to look like you could kill someone without ruining your #look. Happy to paint Jewish women. You will also be super comfy in his studio wearing big drape-y gown type things. Medium to high chance your portrait will be stolen by nazis. Go for it. You will look great.

Morisot: like a better Renoir. Seriously skip Renoir and have Morisot paint you instead. You will still look sweet and lovely. Consider it.

Gauguin: literally screw Gauguin. He was a pedophile. Your portrait might look nice but he's a gross jerk. If you want stupidly bright colors go get a portrait from Matisse or something at the turn of the century. You'll still have a high chance of being green but at least you don't have to go near a guy who left his wife and children to go prey on 14 year olds. Break his paintings over your knees and laugh at him.

Seurat: your face will be composed of thousands of tiny dots and you'll be used as some greater metaphor in an 80's teen movie and anyone who is colorblind will probably not get your portrait but optical illusions are always cool. Go for it.

Rossetti: ask yourself - do I have red hair? Do I want to sleep with Rossetti? If the answer is yes to both THEN get a Rossetti portrait done.

Cassatt: honestly a great choice for the people of tumblr, Cassatt is also really big on sprawling on couches as a general pose. She will do you a solid and you will laugh about how men usually screw up painting women.

Bouguereau: poor Bouguereau. Time has forgotten him and instead fallen in love with the rebellious impressionists. But in his day, HE was an ARTISTE of the ACADEMY!! He's got technical skill for days and you'll inevitably get a completed piece. You'll get a beautiful portrait it might just seem a little...polished. But hey, that's NOT a bad thing. Gotta respect his need to make money before he went wild with paint. Think about it.

William Merritt Chase: he's not a BAD painter it's just that sometimes he feels a bit like he could be someone else. There's a 40% chance you'll end up wearing a kimono. Maybe pass unless you want less drama than Whistler.

Egon Schiele: listen, no. Don't do it. There's like an 80% chance he will draw you masturbating with a creepy stare and yaoi hands.

Delacroix: sure he might be an orientalist painter and yes that's kind of awful but you gotta hand it to Delacroix: his "harem" women are all actually dressed in clothes and at least you know he can paint a skin color other than litebrite. Could meet a Jewish or Muslim sitter without having a total heart attack probably.

Millais: honestly get your portrait done by Millais solely for the purpose of pissing Charles Dickens off. Do you need any other reason? No.

Turner: he's a landscape artist ya walnut. The people he paints tend to be floating bodies in the water as a critique of slavery. Ask him to paint more social commentary. Maybe pass on as your portrait artist though.

Hiroshige: if you're not Japanese you're gonna be classed as a friggin weeaboo. Sorry those are the rules. But your portrait will be sweet.

Rosa Bonheur: ok like I really only remember her self portraits and cow paintings but she's a lesbian and if you wanna bond over hot ladies this is your woman. Who cares if she paints a cow instead? Not you! Do it.

Goya: pass unless you want to look dark and maybe slightly tortured. Ultimately you'll just be sad he's no Velasquez.

Ingres: the older Bouguereau basically. If you're super into neo-classicism or orientalist painting go for it. Otherwise skip it.

James Abbott McNeill Whistler: okay look - Whistler is a fantastic artist. He's amazing with colors and uses impressionist techniques without just cribbing off of Monet or something. All of his portraits are lovely, and you can't go wrong. Except there's like a 40% chance he'll never finish your portrait or will go broke painting it or will throw a tantrum at some point. He may or may not sleep with your wife. If he asks you if he can retouch a small thing in your house he will do it -- and then promptly continue to repaint everything and try and charge you for it all. If you yell at him he will later break into your house and paint giant gold fighting peacocks on your dining room wall, and then he'll tell you that without his additions to your decor you'd probably die forgotten but NOW people will remember you forever. Your normal interior decorator will see what Whistler has done to *HIS* room and then later be found lying curled up on the floor of his studio covered in gold leaf in the midst of a total breakdown. He will die three years later, never having recovered mentally. Also Whistler will go bankrupt and will paint you as a mean peacock if he owes you a lot of money. So you'll basically get a second portrait for free. Do it.

John Singer Sargent: honestly probably the best American Portrait artist of his era. You'll look amazing and he won't break into your house to paint peacocks or sleep with your wife. Get a Sargent portrait, you will not regret it.

[bigmeandragonlady]

WELL IF YOU INSIST ... my turn to go a little insane with reaching. they really did layer a lot of symbolism onto the green boy - i didn't miss the little alchemical symbol for earth they worked into his design, the really big and obvious triple goddess belt buckle, the snake/8 or infinity/ouroboros theme, association w nature/plants and whats under the streets (the little tree peeking out of the sewer? or whatever it is in the bg mainly used for the street his bars on caught my eye), or the way they keep showing him in churches and how the. little white thing over his shirt makes it look a bit like a reversed clerical collar. the (maybe) ritual knife and the little knife earring with one of two red points on his design. gold and its connotations of perfection in alchemy (which is the metal he and kuras share while everyone else is silver 🤔🤔). white lilies being a funeral flower and also about faith and rebirth. just a lot of things pointing to distinct faces/masks + wisdom/knowledge + cycles/death/breaking cycles/rebirth. given one of the aspects of the triple goddess is the nymph/matron and how he seems to have a reputation for flings but everyone else important hates him in a sense/he doesnt seem to have any actual *close* relationships it seems to point to maaayyybe an aspect of his story is breaking self destructive interpersonal habits (i certainly expect a breaking of cycles in some sense, though maybe its just life+death if the idea about him being undead is right. and a lot of things seemingly point to that right now lol!)

since the game seems like it might draw a lot on alchemy, given one of the bgs, kuras, leander and mhin all are involved with it ahve have some kind of alchemical symbolism going on one way or another, other alchemy symbols might be interesting to think about irt them, especially the green lion devouring the sun for leander, which is basically a metaphor for how aqua regia dissolves gold. all of THIS bit is absolutely just my nerd ass reaching, but i think its also neat how each of the five characters could be applied to one of the major alchemical colors (green, black, white, red, gold). green is obviously leander but the rest could be fought over

his thing with vere especially interests me since it seems like something went down there that went REALLY bad. like we know leander has a savior complex (evident enough in what we see in game but also called out by name in the promo material) and thinks vere is gorgeous, he must have projected some damsel in distress shit onto him that vere didn't like but vere despite his bluster seems (at least in the day we know him) pretty bad at setting concrete boundaries (he always dances around it and keeps it vague before snapping! going 'you'll know if' 'if i didnt want you to i wouldnt let you' saying one question then letting you get multiple in before putting his foot down etc etc but i played a week ago i might be misremembering). despite it going bad leander seems to still think hes on okay terms with vere, and i think its interesting how before the twenty questions he asks you your opinion on the others, and if you're too negative he talks them all up (he apparently thinks theyre his friends after all!) and if you're too positive he warns you about how dangerous they are (makes sense given they. are. and he might feel guilty about letting you go wandering in a town known for its monsters alone). ive seen people trying to spin that as manipulative of him but currently to me it more just reads like trying to defend his friends vs trying to look out for you. but maybe i am just colorblind!

speakingof the questions though given the whole 'information is currency' thing and the fact you have an option to end the questions early i wonder if theyre a variable that will have an affect later... you ask too many questions there, you accrue some sort of debt

I DIDNT MEAN TO WRITE THIS MUCH ABOUT JUST HIM LMAO this is what i mean when i say it got me. im thinking thoughts. i want to know what his problem is so bad. anyway to end not JUST talking about him i like how ais' bracelet vaguely looks like a shimenawa, and i like how specifically its on the arm that doesnt have the tentacle 'tattoo' 🤔 also something i like about the flowers they gave them all is leander's is white lily but they gave ais the spider lily. extremely toxic, and a notorious symbol of the afterlife growing along the shores of a river that connects it to ours, but also like very associated w yanderes by anime lmao which seems to run contrary to what we've seen of him so far. i also think its fun here that part of its japanese name, higan, means the far shore. i think its connotations of the dead + remembering of the dead (since it blooms around the time of ohigan) feels like it fits with how the people who drink from the spring are technically preserved and remembered inside tha groupmind

the flower choices are very fun since only leander, ais and vere got toxic plants... kuras got a medicinal one and mhin got one with bitter but technically edible berries. alright the last thing ive wanted to mention to someone is that to treat us at the start it's obvious kuras would have had to touch our hands/arms, even if only accidentally, given we wake up without a shirt or bandages, but we never are given the chance to realize that and that he's unaffected too. actually we aren't told how we got to the clinic, are we? maybe im just forgetting. did he just happen to walk out there and see us, did another named character, was it known about or a complete accident to discover? id talk about my ideas for the curse but i didnt mean to send you five paragraphssss

OK... leaves this essay in ur inbox and runs. ty for your time, can you tell youre the first person ive been able to talk about this game to lmfao

hey Leander how about we find out what the fuck your deal is over dinner some time.

No, but i dig the amount of symbolism the team has put in these characters. Gives stuff to chew on while waiting and im a slut for symbolism.

I can see why Leander is like this with Vere, everyone seems to have issues with the Senobium and Vere is literally and metaphorically tied to their will. having such an old and powerful (dangerous) being would pull at his savior complex imo, regardless of what may have happened between them. (can you imagine leander saying/trying to break the enchantment on vere's collar, failling, and vere holding a grudge b/c he seems like the type)

Leander has some odd relationships imo, even compared to the others. he's got a real friends with everyone but is emotionally distant + avoid conflict (as seen repeatedly in the bar) vibe. he's one of the cast who's been around the city the longest (after vere and kuras) and i've been wondering why he targets Ais specifically with murder attempts. is it just 'i hate your vibe, you wanna make out after i poison you a few times?' is it really just the groupmind? In the oracle bg you can feel/hear something under the earth as you near the seaspring and i wonder if leader's thing (plants growing out of the grates + the silent crypt that keeps getting mentioned + 'as above so below' on the hound flyers) isn't kind of competing with it, creating a rivalry in that way. i'm dying to know what the fuck their deal is.

Which kind of leads into why i think Mhin is so so hostile with Ais: we know Mhin has some weird curse of their own involving a fucked up bird thing and i wonder if that entity is causing friction with Ocdeus. b/c mhin and vere's dynamic is pretty different, meaning it's not just a monster thing.

then again Ais might be lying to us about the whole 'for no reason' thing and we have no idea what happened between the five of them before we got there.

I always kind of assumed Kuras had gloves on while dealing with us since he's a (hopefully, maybe) a responsible doctor. but initially when he finds us? does he know more then he's pretending to with our curse? does it effect divine beings??? i need to know

thank you for the asks! you are also the first person I've talked to about this game lol

[getmemymicroscope]

So I'm watching this movie entirely because the poster looks interesting (and Milind Soman!). And yet, in the first 15 minutes, not only has there been no Milind Soman (turns out he's not the main character), but also:

A man (our hero, apparently) wakes up to his alarm clock (after the Bollywood favorite dream of winning some award given to you by a famous actress, soon after an item song) and immediately exclaims "I"m late". Like, if waking up to your alarm clock is late, you are using this clock incorrectly.

Hrishitaa Bhatt! (She's the actress in the dream, though, so I we may not see her again)

Our hero is upset, with good reason, but also exclaims "I worked hard for 3 months." Like, having been an 'adult' for a bit now, I don't think 3 months of hard work is enough.

The girl who will apparently be our main actress is upset that her boyfriend (our hero) is late to watch her presentation. And this isn't some sort of TED talk - this is her, at a company she works at, trying to sell some unhackable software to interested buyers. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to sit in on this anyways.

It was also around this point that I realized that the Milind Soman movie I wanted to watch was actually 16th December, not this one. But I figure since I've already started it, I might as well continue until it becomes unbearable (I mean, even with all this, it isn't as painful as, say, Heropanti 2).

Though, it tries. She finally wisens up and gets exasperated by his video game playing (instead of, you know, actually getting a job) and is like "you have 2 months to make something of yourself" - it's so bad that even these random kids are like "we can't play all day, we have to sell things and make money for the family" (though, there is a bit of abuse that is sorta glossed over) - and, in response, her parents and Anupam Kher's character (some random rich guy who appears to know him and her) are like "what are you doing?" It's an interesting reverse from typical Bollywood, where parents are like "no, you can't marry this guy, he has no job!" in that they're like "don't break up with him just cuz he's got no job or income or prospects" - and it's frustrating, because she's actually being sensible! (Well, until that completely unnecessary jab about the video game convention thing right when he's trying to come through on her 2 month deadline.)

Once the "twist" takes place (finally, Milind Soman!), things... maybe get better? Maybe. The 'red/yellow' debate between mom and daughter was a good way to introduce a clue, but heavens did they need to keep the audio of that debate going for so long? It became clear immediately that the mom has no idea what color blindness is, but was also annoying. He later, off the top of his head, says that color blindness is rare (one in a million), so they can hack into some database and figure out who one of the "producers" who hired him, but a simple study online would've know it to be closer 1/10,000 (for females) - meaning that it's probably not rare enough that just looking for license applications rejected on those grounds would be a simple search. But then, when has Bollywood ever cared for truth about science/medicine.

He makes up a fake code has part of planning, and that ends up being the exact password for this insane security system guarding some insanely crazy diamonds? Yeah, okay. ... And speaking of coincidences: her friend goes on vacation to disappear for half the movie, then returns and just happens to be almost engaged to one of the culprits. Like every single clue/discovery is pure coincidence (well, 3 of the 4) - the colorblindness thing he sees/overhears, the don's henchmen having the same bracelet, this. The only one that isn't is the one where he finds the picture, reminding him of the house; even that, he had entirely given up and only gone to investigate her apartment on Jiya's suggestion.

The scene where he writes a story for them: he writes it, gives it to them, they read it and all say "I love it," and then, and only then, he's like "I changed the prompt you gave me a little bit." Like, no shit! - they literally just read what you wrote. Why are you telling them this AFTER giving it to them to read?

The director he goes to at one point gives him a DVD of the movie Evolution and asks him to make a Bollywoodized remake of this "blockbuster" movie. That movie wasn't really a blockbuster - and I'm not sure that Bollywoodizing a sci-fi movie with aliens is really a great way to go (yes, I know about Koi Mil Gaya, but I've also seen other Bollywood attempts at sci-fi).

I know it's not the exact same crime, but I don't know if, in in trying to prove your innocence, committing a whole bunch of crimes is the best way to go. Also, in this process of creating havoc on the streets of Mumbai, he, on a bike, is barely able outrun (outride?) Milind Soman on legs. Impressive running, Milind. And the bike riding is made even more ridiculous by the scene where he is hit by a car and slides under a truck like some weird Matrix-style act. Dumb. Also, how did the wannabe writer become so good at action? And at defusing bombs? This is ridiculous.

The entire Don thing, I guess done for comic relief (and indirectly leading to another clue) , is dumb. And we don't really need comic relief at that point in the movie, we just need it to end and give us true relief. Also not giving relief are the songs, which are ... skippable. Sulag Sulag, the second item song, is the best of a poor lot, simply because it's fast-paced enough to be somewhat catchy.

At least Milind's character is smart enough that after the 3rd murder, he's like "maybe (main character) isn't the culprit." We also get the "nonsense" guy from Singham, which is what I will forever know him as/for.

Foreseeable twist/ending, because the role otherwise was pretty minimal. Also, too much interest in what was going on. Glad it wasn't Milind; might've been even better if it was her. But given the lack of other real characters in the movie, it was guessable. (Also, once he starts the timer - the time passes very, very quickly. Like, quicker than a minute is, which is interesting cuz normally in movies, 1 minute takes like 2 hours to pass.) Until time is running out, then it takes him like multiple minutes to slowly type in a code. Like, come on bro, her life (and yours) is on the line!

Milind Soman somehow fights a bunch of people and then appears on top of a boat that is entirely encompassed by water on 3 sides and a dock, which the baddies are walking on, on the 4th. Impressively impossible. Also, he can apparently fly, and jump out of water like a dolphin. And, in the end, an Ajnabee-style death for our baddie.

He enters the code and... instead of defusing, it goes into a Windows-like "processing" mode. Imagine getting the code right and then being foiled by it take minutes to process. Speaking of codes, though - all the codes in this movie that require "cracking" (sure, there's only 2 of them) are absolutely ridiculous. Like, the code setters for the security needed help from those google "autosuggest passwords" that no one could remember even if they had written them down.

Nonsense. It's all nonsense.

[heartandsoulcomic]

when did Sarafina realize she was colorblind?

Sarafina’s almost complete achromatopsia was discovered when she was about five years old.

It was actually Frisk who first figured it out…

--------------------------------------------------

Frisk walked into the kitchen to make some after school snacks, and was surprised to see Sarafina already sitting at the table, coloring with crayons. The kindergartener usually had too much pent-up energy after class just to sit around, and Frisk would have to corral her from the backyard, giggling and running around her teenage sibling before coming inside to eat.

Sarafina glanced back at Frisk as they walked up to her, but immediately went back to scribbling on the papers set out before her, barely muttering a hello, ears drooping.

Oh dear.

They ruffled the soft fur on Sarafina’s head between her little horns. “Hey Sweetheart, how was your day?”

Sarafina just shrugged, and picked up another crayon.

Okay, try a different approach.

Frisk pulled up a chair. “Can I color with you?”

Another shrug, but a soft “Sure” as well.

Frisk reached for a sheet of paper. “So, what are we working on today --”

They faltered as they saw all the drawings in front of Sarafina. Or rather, the same drawing over and over.

A red house with a brown roof, pink and purple flowers in window beds, sitting on green grass with a blue sky and yellow sun above it. As close as a five-year-old could get to making the same wobbly picture, copy after copy.

“Are you… practicing this drawing?” Frisk frowned. “Your teacher isn’t giving you homework yet, is she?”

A small shake of her head. “No. I just wanna get the colors right.”

Frisk kept their voice light, but it was tinged with concern. “Aw, sweetheart, coloring is for fun. As long as you like it, it’s the right color.”

She sniffled. “B-but I got them wrong. Miss Jenny said.”

Before Frisk could ask why in the world a kindergarten teacher would tell a child they were coloring wrong, Sarafina started crying.

“But it w-wasn’t my fault! We were suposta read the colors on the paper to color the picture right, b-but the other kids tore the labels offa the crayons!”

Sarafina swiped angrily at her tears “I asked for new ones, but Miss Jenny told me to use the same ones as everybody. A-and she got mad after and told me I s-shouldn’t have colored it wrong just ‘cause I didn’t get what I wanted. But I d-didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m sure you didn’t…” Frisk scooped Sarafina into a hug.  “Let’s get our snacks, okay?”

One last sniffle. “Okay.”

Frisk put Sarafina down on the counter, thinking furiously as they pulled carrot sticks and string cheese from the fridge.

The kids had torn the labels off…

“Could you pass me an apple?”

Sarafina wrinkled her nose and poked at the fruit bowl next to her, filled with green granny apples Toriel had just bought. “I can’t eat those, I’m ‘lurgic, remember?”

Frisk smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “Intolerant, not allergic. But I’m not. Apple?”

The little girl made a face, but passed the fruit to them.

Frisk turned the green fruit over in their hands. Carefully they asked, “Sarafina? Sweetheart, what color would you call this?”

Sarafina blinked at them. “Apples are red.”

Frisk held the apple up. “Not green?”

A stubborn frown crossed her face. “Apples are red. My alphabet books said so.”

“I see. What about my shirt?”

“Huh?”

“What color is my shirt?” They pulled at the fabric of the shirt, a blue button-down with red accents on the sleeves and collar.

Sarafina stared, growing visibly upset. “I-I dunno. What color is it supposed to be?”

Frisk let out a slow breath. “Oh, Sweetheart, I think I know what’s going on… we should talk to Mom and Sans about taking you to an optometrist.”

Sarafina’s eyes widened, surprise turning to worry. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Frisk quickly reassured her. “But I think you might see things a little differently than most people. That’s why you were having trouble today. We should probably go to the optometrist to be sure.”

Frisk handed Sarafina a string cheese and picked her up. “And I think we should move you to a different kindergarten class. Your teacher sounds like a butthead.”

“Frisk!” Sarafina giggled “You’re not suposta call people names!”

Frisk grinned at her. “No, you’re not supposed to call people names. If I have significant evidence of someone being a butthead, I’m calling them a butthead.”

Sarafina laughed again. “Nooo, Mama said!”

“Alright, I guess it’s not fair if I can call people names and you can’t.”

Frisk exaggeratedly glanced around.

“Do you want to? Just once?”

Sarafina froze for a moment, then very, very quietly whispered, “Miss Jenny’s a butthead.” And burst into giggles.

Frisk carried the still giggling Sarafina to the living room, sweeping up the identical drawings and tossing them into the trash on the way.

[crashional-thinker]

i'm going to elaborate on why the game is bad in a separate reblog in case OP wants to rb the original. visual design is as always purely subjective but having everything be a deep crimson red actually ends up hurting the gameplay more than you might think.

When everything is red, bullets that you have to avoid or no-zones on the floor become more difficult to distinguish from the background scenery. This can result in a lot of hits feeling "unfair" because you can't see them compared to the background. Compare this to a game like SYNTHETIK:

Notice how the characters are outlined or have glowing auras, with easily distinguishable HUD elements around them. The player character is one color, while the enemies are another color, and the background is static. Additional visual effects will clear over time, but most importantly all of the important information is clearly communicated.

In RUINER, enemies will teleport without warning and without a telegraph, leaving only a little red square on the ground as a hint to what just happened. Additionally, many of them do not have clear outlines (aside from a red one, this is a theme), which can cause them to get easily lost in the background atop all the flashy particle effects.

And hoo boy this game has a LOT of fucking particle effects.

Seriously, as soon as the boss starts shooting its Big Fucking Laser, you immediately lose track of the player because of all the bloom and lens flare going on. Not knowing where you are makes it real easy to get hit. Now let's compare this to a game like UBERMOSH:OMEGA, which is arguably even more hectic than RUINER:

(The gameplay footage here was recorded using Colorblind Mode, which darkens every bloodstain except ones with weapon upgrades.)

Notice how in UBERMOSH all of the characters have a much brighter color palette compared to the background, and then on top of that the player character is constantly generating a bunch of uniquely colored particle effects centering on them, which is a giant sort of "YOU ARE HERE" beacon. Each different color of particle is a different thing happening:

The purple laser and shield at the start of the gif is the Melter beam, which I spin around to kill every enemy around me.

The pink mini-shield and circles are shredders which are fired automatically in the direction I'm facing. There are enemies that fire shredders of their own, colored cyan.

The green shield and lasers are the Manastrike, which attacks in every direction and triggers automatically.

Some enemies are glowing yellow for a short period when they spawn. This means they're invincible and I can't hurt them until the shield wears off.

The orange pellets are the guns that I'm firing myself.

Sometimes I swing swords. These have smear frames and are pretty freakin' big (granted, due to a pre-run loadout selection, but the default swords are still bright)

This creates a fast-paced yet amazingly readable environment that the player can take a look at, instantly know what's going on, and react accordingly through pure intuition, rather than figuring out what looks like what through trial and error.

These are just a few reasons why I think RUINER is just an okay-ish video game, and that's just touching on the color palette and usage of effects. Hopefully this makes my grumpiness easier to understand.

What is a piece of media that you don't care for which nonetheless sticks around in some form in your mind?

[fanfic-me-up]

All The Colors We Cannot See {Bakugou x Reader}

Synopsis: He sees you in the colors that light the sky, and longs for you in the darkness that follows.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader

Warnings: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, language

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: This took me like 9 months to complete, but it’s finally here. I didn’t completely stick to the request, but this is what came out. I still hope you like it! Banner made by my amazingly talented friend, go follow her @jm.rvice on instagram! 💖

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Blood pumps to his legs. Cement pounds his feet. Bits of rubble catch in his boots. The first spark of the night shoots up- swallowed whole by the black sky. A trail of embers remains in its wake. 

Katsuki stops. And waits.

A second passes- the crowd silent in anticipation. No one can see the spark, but everyone knows it’s there… waiting…  for the right time to explode. And just when the darkness thinks it has won, an enormous burst of light blankets the sky. In that moment, it’s so bright that Katsuki can see the skyline. Like paint splattered on a blank canvas, the sky now bleeds in red, and the explosion leaves an imprint the size of a supernova long after it’s gone. 

The crowd applauds. 

A roar is ripped from Katsuki’s throat. He pounds at the brick wall again and again, despite blood trickling down his fists. He rips his cochlear and smashes it against the wall. A sick satisfaction settles within him. The ringing that greets him is like a devil sucking on the lobe, whispering tempestuous nothings into his ear. 

Katsuki continues his ascent, taking steps by three until he reaches the top. The poor door is yanked off its hinges, but it doesn’t even cross Katsuki’s mind as he’s hit by everything all at once. Smoke slithers down his throat, roasted yakitori wafts up his nose, the rhythmic booms caress his ear, and the lavender shaded sky comforts his eyes. From up here, the people below remind Katsuki of the dots he used to see after he ignited a big explosion- how the dots blur, mix, and separate in one fluid motion again and again. 

His phone ringing is a distant echo. They’re looking for him no doubt, but who the hell cares. Not like they’d find him up here. This was yours and Katsuki’s place.

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He’d blow himself up if he missed even a second. 

His lungs burned. They ached for a clean breath, yet inhaled the stench of nitroglycerin-like sweat. He could’ve just blasted himself to the top and saved himself the trouble, but fuck. That. Katsuki thrived on a challenge. He loved the rush of adrenaline more than his own mother. (He’d never tell her that- she’d kill him before he reached this goddamn roof.)

He threw himself against the door in time to see the first burst of citrine hit the sky. But he also saw you, a trespasser, standing on the ledge and looking like you were about to kill yourself. You didn’t flinch at the sonic boom (like most people) nor cringe at the heat. It was like you thought the beauty outweighed its destruction. 

All that said you were fucking stupid.

“Oi! Get down from there!” 

You were immersed in skylight, and though your back was turned, Katsuki knew you were staring up in awe; your eyes reminiscent of glassy pools reflecting red, yellow, blue and all the possibilities they create. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” Katsuki muttered. He just wanted to enjoy the show in his spot. Alone. Like he did every year. “Oi, lady! You wanna kill yourself? Do it on some other roof dammit!” 

You jumped at the blasted words, losing your balance and falling off the ledge. Katsuki expected you to scream, to gasp, to cry... anything but fucking wink on your way down like playing with death is just some fucking game. But Katsuki had no time to think before he blasted himself across the roof to grab your hand- but you didn’t need it. You threw a safety line in mid-air, hooked it to the ledge with skillful precision, and used the leverage to hurl yourself back up. You landed on the ledge like a ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope. The sheer turn of events rendered Katsuki speechless. 

 “Phew! That was fun! Let’s do it again sometime, yeah?” You wrapped the safety chord before bouncing up to Katsuki.

The fuck?

How did you…? 

 You didn’t seem to notice Katsuki’s loss for words.

“I’ve never met someone with a quirk like yours. You could put on your very own firework show!”

You tried grabbing his hand, but Katsuki’s growl stopped you. The flickers popping in his hands were a sign to back the fuck off.

You’re scared. Good, Katsuki thought.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit of a pyro.” You sheepishly smiled, twirling a pink and yellow band around your finger. (You’d later twirl your wedding ring the same way.) 

Katsuki’s growl cut in its tracks. You weren’t scared like he thought, in fact, you looked lost in his sparks- your eyes zooming back and forth, trying to catch each and every one. Katsuki killed his sparks, causing you to look up at him in disappointment.

“I can’t. Mine don’t change color,” he muttered. 

Fireworks always fascinated Katsuki. As a child, he wished his explosions could change color. He imagined people looking up in awe when his sparks rained down. They’d recognize the power and the beauty.

“Hmm…color is what makes a firework...” you trailed off.

“No shit,” Katsuki snorted. How stupid are you? 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Katsuki crossed his arms, “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! Gimme your hands!” You bounced up and down, overcome with excitement. Katsuki stepped back but immediately stopped himself because Bakugou Katsuki never backs down. 

“I’m not giving you anything, woman. You’re fuckin’ weird for jumpin’ off roofs and asking for stranger’s hands. Stay the fuck away from me. In fact, this is my fuckin’ roof. Find your own.” Katsuki looked down to see his hands popping. It must’ve happened on instinct- a defense mechanism to scare off the extras who won’t leave him the fuck alone. 

Except it didn’t work on you. You only came closer. 

“Do you want to burn in color or not?” 

Katsuki saw flashes of himself in your eyes everytime a firework went off. A hunger burned in the pit of his stomach- one he’s felt countless times during battle, but this one was different. This strange warmth made him feel like jumping off the roof himself, and if he put all his might into it, he could brush the spark of a firework from fifty feet above.

“Yes,” he said. 

“Then you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Trust you!?” Katsuki shook his head, “I don’t even know you!”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” You giggled, “Now hold still.” 

Katsuki grumbled how ridiculous this was, and that whatever you tried wouldn’t work, but you ignored him in favor of pulling his hands and laying them face up. You nodded and Katsuki sighed, activating his quirk anyway because what the hell.

You’re entranced from the moment flickers popped, one by one, in his hands. They died as quickly as they were born, but still left their mark in the air. 

Katsuki’s sparks faltered as cool fingertips brushed against his wrist. 

“It’s okay, keep going,” you encourage, and he does. 

He can’t pinpoint exactly when the change happened. Like all change, he blinked and suddenly his sparks burned in color. Angry red, rooted in tormented crimson, ravished the usual, boring, orange of his sparks. 

Katsuki laughed in disbelief because how is this real? Yellow began to flicker in and out of the red, until it finally caught like a flame and engulfed the red like a warm blanket. Pink and light green began to swirl around the yellow, and the firework show Katsuki had been looking forward to all year didn’t hold a candle to the fireworks fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Katsuki looked up at you. 

Who the fuck are you? 

You giggled at his awed expression, “Our very own firework show.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night. His hands in yours while he burned in color for the first time.

Katsuki later discovered you could read emotions through auras. The aura becomes visible, allowing you to color a person’s quirk.

He also discovered that you didn’t need to hold his hand for it to work.

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A round of fireworks triggers the ringing in Katsuki’s ear. He throws his head back in ecstasy and prays the sensation tickles his eardrum for a little longer- enough to shut the part of his brain that keeps remembering you. 

Katsuki pulls the pistol out. The leather grip, so slick with sweat, that Katsuki has to wipe his hand to make sure he doesn’t accidentally set off his quirk. 

He’s not an amateur. He’s held a gun before. Every pro-hero has to undergo weapons training, but he’s never used one in combat. His quirk was always more than enough. But there’s something inherently dangerous about a gun. His quirk is an extension of himself, but a gun is a separate entity altogether- and it was designed to kill. 

Growing up, adults would praise Katsuki for his quirk. They’d say, “With a quirk like that, you’re destined to become a hero!” But they were still afraid to get too close. They saw his quirk as a weapon that was designed to destroy. And soon enough, Katsuki became the embodiment of just that. But he always felt incomplete. He wanted to be a hero like All Might. One that people looked up to- in awe of their power, not in fear of it.

That’s why he loved fireworks. The only explosion that makes people stop and stare, instead of running away, in fear for their lives.

You were the first and only person to see the beauty in his quirk.

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“What’s your favorite color?” 

Such a basic question that Katsuki should already have the answer to. But color meant so much more to you. You saw the world in a way that made everyone else seem colorblind. 

You twirled that same pink and yellow band around your finger as Katsuki twirled the ring in his pocket. You leaned in closer, basking in the warmth radiating from Katsuki. He watched how your eyes never left the sky, and he was content with missing the show if it meant he can watch you instead. He caught glimpses of you only when lit by a firework. He made sure not to blink during those moments else he’d miss you. Your expressions mixed and swirled as the fireworks continued, but you never lost the primary color of mesmerization painting your face.

“Blue,” you said. Katsuki had to lean in to listen; your voice an ember in a sea of fire. “But not sky blue like on a sunny day. It’s nice, but I much prefer the darker washes of blue, deep like sapphire.”

Blue, the color of sadness. 

“Why blue?” Katsuki asked. The ring in his pocket danced between his fingers.

You turned back to the fireworks. You always made sure to think before you speak when answering a question that mattered.

“Because there’s always an interesting story behind an aura of such sorrow, more importantly, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“So your favorite color isn’t blue, it’s yellow,” Katsuki cut in, but you shook your head.

“There’s nowhere to go but down with yellow. Yellow is the epitome of brightness and joy, and when you crash during the high, you crash hard. But when you’re drowning in deep blue, as I’ve seen many people do, you’re at the lowest of lows- you really can’t get any lower in this life. But when an aura- and I’ve only seen this once- when an aura changes from the deepest of sapphire to sunrise yellow- well it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The twirling of the ring in his pocket stopped. 

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope,” you whispered.

-------------------------------------------------------

Katsuki should feel the smooth texture of leather as he grips the gun in his hand. He should feel the weight of the gun as he brings it to his temple. But he’s numb to it all. It’s like an invisible string, pulling at his muscles, directing his body how to move. His mind goes blank for the first time, and all the inner-turmoil he’s been unable to escape just straight up… stops. It’s like he’s floating in a body of water with no current. Complete and utter stillness.

It scares the fuck outta him, but it feels good. 

As he’s about to turn the safety off, his phone rings again, snapping him back to reality. Katsuki guts his phone.

“Die!” 

The phone slides down the door like a dead pidgeon. 

“God-fuckin’-damn it...” He pushes the barrel back to his temple, craving that mind-numbing stillness once more. Anything to stop the feelings that just won’t seem to go away. 

The fireworks crescendo as the show reaches its climax. The colors begin to mix and blur together so much that it becomes too convoluted to look at. An infinite regress of color swirling in Katsuki’s mind.

-------------------------------------------------------

You glowed on purpose so Katsuki could find you. He spotted you from miles away, like a beacon of light in the middle of a storm. The melancholic blue of your aura contrasted against the raging reds that painted the sky.

Katsuki ran. He pushed and pushed past his limit, harder than any battle he’s fought in. He could’ve made it if he used his quirk, but he was in a crowded marketplace with too many people. He ripped off his gauntlets and threw them in a random alley. He immediately gained speed. A couple more feet and one minute left.

He should’ve saved his breath. If he did, he would’ve caught you in time. But he had to make sure you knew he was there. You looked down at the sound of your name. He could barely make out your face, but you saw him. He knew you saw him because your aura changed from that melancholic blue to sunrise yellow in an instant. Everyone around him gasped at the flood of light emanating from above. 

You were right. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

If Katsuki produced a strong enough blast, he could make his way to the top and get you out before the bomb went off. At this point, he didn’t care who else might get hurt in the process. Next to him, Kirishima knew what Katsuki was thinking. He hardened himself to block Katsuki’s takeoff.

“Don’t do it, bro.”

“Get outta my way.”

“You can’t make it.”

“Yes I can.”

“You’ll both die.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Katsuki pushed him away, and prepared to blast himself, when two other heroes stepped in to hold him down, but no one stood a chance when Katsuki goes feral. Explosions erupted, not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to get people to back the fuck off. Even Kirishima (whose quirk is to literally be a human barricade) was having trouble blocking Katsuki. One more blast was enough to send Kirishima back and Katsuki used that half a second to blast off. But suddenly he couldn’t. He tried and he tried, but his quirk refused to work. A growl escaped from low in his throat as he whipped his head around, trying to find the cause to his problem so he could decimate it. 

Target acquired. 

Katsuki was about to march right up to his high school homeroom teacher and deck him right in his fuckin’ face, but before he could, he was held down once again.

He couldn’t fight three pro-heroes off without his quirk. He couldn’t get to you without his quirk. All Katsuki could do was look up and watch you die. 

Five seconds left.

He saw it in your face. The moment you realized he wouldn’t be able to save you. The yellow of your aura growing dimmer and dimmer.

Three.

You smiled through your tears.

Two.

And winked. 

One.

Then closed your eyes as you took your last breath.

The darkness that followed was unbearable.

A cacophonous wail erupted from Katsuki’s throat- loud enough to go up against any explosion. He couldn’t help but fall to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He still wasn’t able to use his quirk and that only frustrated him more. 

He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

-------------------------------------------------------

He hardly uses his quirk anymore because he sees you in the sparks. He’s got no drive to be Number 1 if you’re not here to watch him do it. His will to live is gone without you and that scares the fuck outta him. He hates you for filling his head with ridiculous bullshit. He hates you for opening his mind to the possibility of love, and hope, and shit that shouldn’t matter but it fuckin’ does for some goddamn reason. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.

That same cacophonous wail erupts from his very core. The gun falls from his hands, to the ground. It could’ve gone off at that moment and Katsuki would never know. 

His focus zeroes on his hands. How tense they get when he flexes them, how the vein protrudes from his wrist, and how his glands secrete sweat from his palms. He points them to the sky, and a familiar rush of power, that he hasn’t felt in months, surges through him. His blood boils from under his skin and he’s literally shaking from the intensity. Like a volcano spewing hot-blooded lava after an eternity of dormancy, he shoots blinding white heat into the black night.

The color from the fireworks surround his explosions as if they’re echoing his sentiment. Hot red dominates the sky- reminding Katsuki of the sky that night. This causes Katsuki to rattle off explosions quicker, setting off one after another in a staccato rhythm. The crimson sky ravishes all other color. 

If only he saved his breath. If only he’d taken off his gauntlets sooner. If only he ran a little faster. If only he blasted himself a second earlier. If only he didn’t stay back at work that day. If only he turned right instead of left at that goddamn intersection. If only he picked up the ingredients for your favorite meal the day before so he could go straight home. If only he didn’t have to drive back to the market because he fuckin’ forgot the milk again. If only he decided it was still worth it to pick you up from work early like he planned. If only he cared more about your anniversary than about cracking Top 10. If only he went to more of your art shows instead of taking extra patrols. If only he went on that trip to New York with you instead of cancelling last minute because the agency needed him. If only he realized that you meant more to him than being Number 1 before it was too late.

Little by little the crimson wash is buried by the black night and Katsuki’s eyes hurt just staring into the black abyss. It’s suffocating him, weighing his chest down and making it hard to breathe. It’s enough to drop him to his knees, just like he did that night.

You and Katsuki had long talks about your future plans. How you fit into his life, and how he fit into yours. When you’d be able to properly settle down and have kids. You accepted that the first couple years into his career would be the toughest on your marriage. Katsuki would spend more time at the agency than at home with you. Relationships with pro-heroes were like that. But you respected his ambitions. You understood the amount of time that was required to fulfill those ambitions. You never held it over him, never guilted him into spending more time with you, and never made him choose between you or his career. You loved him enough to share him with the rest of the world. You were never each other’s other halves. Instead, you co-existed as separate individuals who made the best team Katsuki’s ever been a part of. 

Yellow begins to flicker in and out, but it’s muted behind the black veil of regret. The more Katsuki thinks of your empathy and your love, the stronger the yellow becomes. It finally brightens the black sky, to the point that Katsuki almost has to cover his eyes because it’s like looking into the sun in the middle of the day. 

And that’s when it clicks.

He’s burning in color.

You must be conducting this masterpiece from above, using the sky as your canvas and coloring the emotions coming from within him.

He kills his explosions as quickly as he fired them. The fireworks come to an end at the same time. The crowd’s cheers is a fly on the wall to Katsuki.

He falls back, lying flat on the ground and looking up at the sky still shaded in yellow. His chest heaves as he tries to get his breathing back to normal, and the sloppy mixture of sweat and tears continue to slide down his face. The cool breeze is a blessing against the nape of his neck.

He struggles to hold his hands up, they shake as he brings them up to his face. He reignites his quirk with the last bit of strength. The sparks lack their usual vigor as they flutter lazily in his palms. They remind him of fireflies swirling in a jar. For once, the orange doesn’t piss him off. 

Has anyone else seen his quirk like this? When he’s not trying to intimidate or take down a villain? The only person he could think of was you. Maybe his quirk wouldn’t be seen as a weapon, maybe he wouldn’t be seen as a villain, if the world saw what he’s seeing right now.

Katsuki sits in this revelation, and the calm that washes over him is nothing like the numbness from before. He’s far from being okay, and he still longs for you in these moments, but Katsuki has a hunch that if you were here right now - holding his hands in yours- his sparks would be burning in your favorite color. And he’s okay with that.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope.”

Katsuki’s phone goes off even in its broken state. His eyes dart between the phone and the gun. He groans as he gets up. His limbs, heavy, after exerting himself. He picks up his phone.

“Hey. Yeah, man, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

Katsuki’s about to hang up when he takes a look at the gun. A reminder of what he was about to do. A decision he could never come back from.

 If things turned out different, he would not be here right now.  

Just the thought is enough to make Katsuki slide down the wall. He takes a deep breath- his heart beating rapidly at what he’s about to admit aloud for the first time.

“Actually, I’m not okay. I need you to come get me.”

-------------------------------------------------------

The Plus Ultra Chronicle

Musutafu Tower Attack: 06/18/2020

WHEN HOPE PREVAILS:

A DAY OF REMEMBRANCE

By: Yamamoto Ichika

06/18/2021

Today marks the one year anniversary of the 2020 Musutafu Tower Attack. Hundreds gathered this morning in remembrance of the lives lost that night. Several people who’ve lost loved ones in the attack have already come forward with statements.

Of those people, Number 7 Hero, Dynamight, has chosen to sit down with The Plus Ultra Chronicle for an all-exclusive interview. His late wife, Bakugou Y/N, was among the citizens that were held hostage that night. After taking a year sabbatical, he has decided to return to the field of pro-hero work. Here is a snippet of that interview; you can find the full interview here. 

“Thank you, Dynamight, for sitting down with us. It is truly an honor. The people want to know- what are your thoughts on what occurred that night? Can you take us through what happened?”

“It was hard on us all. Whether you were at home watching on a screen or out there in person. All of us heroes felt like sh*t- unable to do anything. It’s even worse when you had a personal attachment to a victim like I did.”

“It must’ve been difficult as a hero- having to make quick decisions that forced you to separate your personal life from the objectivity of the situation.”

“If I’m being honest, I couldn’t, and it took a toll on me.”

“Is that why you took the sabbatical?”

“Yes. I constantly questioned the validity of my title. Whether or not I deserved to be called a ‘hero’ if I couldn’t save the one person I vowed to always protect.”

“You’ll be returning to the field next month, and with a new addition to your hero costume. An amulet of what looks to be a blue-colored spark attached to the left side of your chest. It stands out against the black, orange, and green of your costume. What is the meaning of this?” 

“When I was at my lowest, my failures were all I could see. But someone once told me that you can’t get any lower when you’re at that point. The only real change you can make is to acknowledge and move forward.” 

“A symbol of hope is definitely something we all need right now. What made you decide to finally give an official statement?”

“It is my responsibility to protect the citizens of Japan so this never happens again. But I also think it is important for people to see the shortcomings of the heroes they look up to. We’re human too. We f*ck up. I used to think that made someone weak. Now, I see it as part of the journey. The testament of a true hero.”

[wisteria-lodge]

Crowley’s Roman Look is Very Strange

I didn’t. I didn’t want to be this person. But Aziraphale is sitting RIGHT THERE looking like A TOTALLY RESPECTABLE Roman citizen circa 40 AD. Maybe the hair might be unusual, but the Romans LOVED blonde hair. They thought it was cool and foreign and exotic in sort of a sexy way.

But Crowley is so historically confused. And I think the production design is too good and Neil Gaiman is too on top of his game for this to be accidental. It must mean something. 

I - HAIR

What is on your head Crowley. Are you the emperor? Are you a victorious general currently participating in a victory parade? 

Sure, you sometimes see laurel wreathes in portraits. But FUNERAL portraits.

That crown is a symbolic thing, to celebrate your victories in life. It’s not STREET WEAR. 

And okay. It’s 40-41 AD. Caligula is emperor. Military chic is in. If you’re a guy, you’re wearing your hair short and un-styled (LIKE AZIRAPHALE.) Those dramatic little spit curls wouldn’t show up until at least Nero. 

But actually, pulling back for a second - are you appreciating the absurdity that is this hairstyle? Because it took me a second to notice that only the FRONT HALF is curled.

Which is a Roman hairstyle. But it’s a Roman LADY hairstyle. 

(It tends to get called ‘Flavian Hair’ because the Flavian era ladies of the 70s-90s got pretty extreme about it, but you still had less... dramatic versions in the 40s.)

That’s you, Crowley. That’s your style reference. Honestly, if you had just kept your hair long everybody would have thought you were a cool barbarian chieftain or something. 

II - CLOTHES

The black is fine. It’s eccentric, but fine. Romans wore black. Wearing black was Cato the Younger’s *thing.* It gets associated with mourning and/or protest, but it would have been really visually confusing to have Crowley wear some other color. This gets a pass.

Nope, my question is about his articles of clothing. There’s a charcoal grey garment that seems to be a toga + undershirt. It’s looped over Crowley’s arm, which is a classic toga give away. 

That part’s fine. But over the top, he’s wearing a true black... short cape? Shawl? it’s really hard to tell, because whatever it is, he is NOT wearing it correctly (is it folded in half?) Also, that irregular red zigzag pattern is very strange and I do not recognize it from anywhere. Seriously, I can’t even decide on a continent for this garment.

III - JEWELRY

Emperor Nero usually gets credit for inventing the first sunglasses, after he started watching gladiators fight though a green gemstone. He won’t be emperor for about ten years. But hey, he probably got the idea from somewhere. And dark glasses are just a really sensible way to hide your snakey eyes. This is also the first time we see Crowley put up some proper emotional barriers, so it’s a good place for the glasses to be introduced. (@theladyzephyr has a wonderful meta that goes into a lot more detail here.) 

So the sunglasses are good. BUT THAT BROOCH.

Okay. This is Aziraphale wearing a fibula plate brooch

It’s a really Roman style, and a really Roman shape (a “pelta”)

I’ve never seen one that looks like angel wings, but a Roman citizen is going to look at that and see a soppily patriotic Imperial Eagle. How nice that this lovely man from Germania/Greece has made some money and become such an exemplary citizen!

But Crowley is wearing a penannular (pin-and-ring) brooch

That’s not roman. That’s a style from the British Isles (Irish, Pictish, Scottish, Welsh.) It says barbarian, boonies, outskirts of the civilized world. 

And nobody @ me with pictures of pin-and-ring brooches from Rome. Those are small, cheap, and undecorated. They’re the cultural equivalent of safety pins. This is patterned like a snake, and it’s the size of Crowley’s palm. 

AND THAT’S ANOTHER THING. They didn’t do snake-themed jewelry in the British isles. Snakes didn’t have the best cultural associations there, and there weren’t too many of them there to begin with. This isn’t something Crowley picked up because “hey, a snake, cool,” and then got attached too. This must have been commissioned special. 

But you know who LOVED snake jewelry? 

ROMANS. 

Romans associated snakes with healing and rebirth - clinics sometimes had lil snakes crawling around on the ground to give the place good vibes. 

You cannot tell me that Crowley could have existed in Rome for any length of time and not picked up some of this jewelry. Which leads me to my conclusion:

IV - CROWLEY IS EXTREMELY NEW IN TOWN

The unfashionable pin and hair? The clothing draped the wrong way? The cultural colorblindness of wearing a laurel crown when you’re not supposed to? Crowley looks like a tacky tourist because he is one. He’s not staying here long, he “just nipped in for a quick temptation.”

He’s in a bad mod because he’s had an awful day, everyone keeps looking at him funny, the temptation was a complete bust, he has culture shock, and now he’s just trying to get a drink. But they don’t have any PROPER drinks like ALE or MEAD here, so he just orders “whatever’s drinkable.” He’s even not sure what they drink in Rome. 

But then Aziraphale shows up and invites him to lunch some place fashionable. So everything’s going to be okay.

[thehugwizard]

About the colorblind thing: okay so fun fact most people are only able to perceive certain colors and they are not color blind. Basically your brain looks at two different shades of light blue and tells you they’re the same shade (fun fact: women tend to have higher color perception than men and younger people better than older people. It’s also why women can look at two shades of something and be like ‘which one do you like better?’ And the guy is like ‘uh idk they’re the same color’ and it’s because they literally are to his brain).

It’s the exact same phenomenon behind the blue black/gold white dress thing. It’s also why people can look at the same thing and think it’s different colors. They’re both technically right because that’s what their brain perceives the colors as.

Another thing is that your monitor can mess you up.

I know from experience and tests and stuff that I have high color perception and I had to turn up the brightness and turn off night shift in order to see the numbers. The 1 is definitely easier to see that the 5 though.

So no, it’s not about being color blind, it’s about your color perception. Decreased color perception does not necessarily equate to color blindness, so it’s stupid when those tests say that everyone who can’t pass them is automatically color blind. No you’re not necessarily, you just might have lower color perception.

Does this make sense? Sorry if I rambled too much, I just love science

Huh, intriguing, i was told i was dueteronomolous, which i believe is impaired red-green perception

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 115

Extra special thanks for this chapter go out to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog. Besides being regular beta-readers for me, Bael really really wanted a chapter with more Charly/Coffey, and Charly happily obliged by joining my and Bael’s regularly scheduled live-write of the chapter. We. Had. A. Blast.  It was  a shining beacon of love and laughter in my life, let me tell you.

I walked from the kitchen to the entry just as the notification went off that someone was standing outside. Still laughing from the comment Tyche made about the chicken breasts we were currently stuffing, my smile didn’t drop an inch as I saw Charly and Coffey standing there. “Hey, you two! About time!”

Charly held her head high and ignored my comment, while Coffey grinned back. “Best for last, you know,” he tossed with a wink as he handed over a bottle of red wine. “I know it doesn’t go with chicken but…”

“Stomachs are colorblind,” I finished, in sync with Charly and Tyche like we had rehearsed it. Conor and Maverick burst into laughter while Arthur just shook his head at our antics.

Charly stretched her neck to look over Tyche’s shoulder. “Those looks like…”

“We know,” Arthur groaned, eliciting another chuckle from everyone. “Tyche just mentioned that.”

“The - feta? - cheese is not helping your case, I’m just saying.”

Tyche tried her hardest to scowl and made a shooing gesture. “Please don’t ruin dinner before it’s even cooked please?”

“If I promise it won’t make dinner sound obscene, can I ask a question?” Charly ventured. All eyes turned toward her, since it was probably the first time she had ever asked permission to ask a question. Once I slowly nodded, she took a deep breath. “Have you ever tried rabbit?” The next part was rushed. “ImeanIhavearecipeforrabbitstewthat’stodiefor, andI’mprettysureAntoinewouldlikerabbitragout-”

“Charly,” Coffey intoned softly, reaching out to gently scritch the back of her neck.

She stopped talking and bit her lips. “I just mean - “

“It’s okay,” I assured them before anyone else in the room exploded from the laughter they were trying to hold back for her sake. “I really would love that recipe, Charly. I actually have a recipe for lapine ragout that Antoine adores, but the only other recipe I have is for coney pie.”

Charly nodded enthusiastically while practically collapsing on Coffey’s lap. Still nodding, she pulled a file up on her datapad and flicked it towards me. “Can I ask about the rabbits?” she asked softly, head twitching when Coffey scowled and - I assume - gently tugged the hair above where he was still scratching her neck. “Doesn’t hurt to ask!” she complained.

“I swear, it’s fine,” Arthur stated firmly. “You would be shocked at how hilarious she finds this story.”

Tyche rolled her eyes hard enough to move her neck. “And it puts some things into perspective…” she sighed.

Conor, on the other hand, gave me a hard look when I opened my mouth. “You know the rule.”

Dropping my head back in defeat, I took a deep breath. “Yes, I will make coney pie tomorrow for dinner.” Antoine, Charly, and Coffey all looked at me in confusion. “Conor hates hearing about my near-death experiences, so when I tell this story I have to make him rabbit pie for dinner.”

“So he can eat your enemies,” Charly nodded sagely.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged.

“Wait- “ she sputtered, realizing the rest of what I explained. “You had a near death experience? With a bunny!?”

All I could do was giggle. “Yes. I have a deathly fear of bunnies because one almost killed me once.”

“Twas no ordinary rabbit - it had a vicious streak a mile wide….” Arthur added, funny accent and all.

“May I ask that no one interrupt Sophia until she explains how she managed a real-life reenactment of a Monty Python sketch?” Coffey asked, leaning forward so far that Charly had to twist to stay on his lap.

“The truth is stranger than fiction,” Arthur nodded, tapping his glass gently against the other man’s. “Sophia, take it away.”

Shaking my head with a grin, I obliged. “You have to know, Tyche and I grew up in a very backwater, uneducated family, and also in hereditary poverty.   So, it was perfectly normal - to us, anyway - to have pets like chickens, or goats… or rabbits… Food animals.  Well, when I was eight, my uncle decided I was old enough for my first pet rabbit.  A good, big one.” Tyche shook her head with a smirk, and I just shot her a glance as I kept speaking. “Well, Snickers wasn’t quite hand-tamed. And the only way to hand-tame a wild rabbit is to…. Well, hold it, honestly.  So I would sit in the yard, with Snickers in my lap, and hold him while he ate grass.”

Maverick opened his mouth to ask the question he always loved to ask, but Charly gently put her hand on his wrist and shook her head. 

I still answered the question I knew would have come. “I know, it sounds like the most harmless thing in the world, right? Pet rabbit, in my lap, chilling out and eating fresh grass.  The thing is… Rabbits are burrowers. And they have these wicked claws on their back feet just for that.  So, when you hold them, you have to hold their back feet together, or they kick to get away.”

Charly gasped softly as she realized what was coming, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth.

I nodded. “Yep. One day, Snickers got started, and I didn’t have his back feet as tightly as I should have, and… well, he opened my arm up from wrist to elbow before I could let him go.  I screamed, my mother came out, took me to the emergency room.  I’ve been terrified of rabbits ever since.”

“That’s awful!” Charly cried out, jumping up to come hug me.

As I patted her on the back, Coffey sat up straighter and shook his head. “Poppy, she’s okay now. And besides, didn’t you hear her mention how ‘backwater’ her family was?” He arched an eyebrow at me, eye gleaming. “I bet that rabbit was dinner that same night.”

“Bunny dumplings,” Tyche confirmed with a wink. “If we didn’t know what else to do with it, it was dumplings.”

Arthur shook his head with a chuckle. “I would have thought you would be upset that she ate her pet, Miss Harper.”

She made a rude noise in return. “Are you kidding!? The first thing I killed with a bow was a rabbit.” Head high, she flexed her biceps. “Do you know how fast those things are!?”

“Nice and fat one, too,” Coffey added. “And she found rosemary to roast it with.”

“And lemon balm,” she added. “And mint, but that stuff grows everywhere.”

I nearly groaned at the memory of spit-roasted wild game.

“So, you two have been through the whole After together?” Conor asked as dinner hit the table.

Charly nodded enthusiastically as she took a bite. “Yeah, we were friends Before - oh my gosh, this balsamic reduction is perfect, Tyche - and found each other not long after the End.  After a while…” she trailed off, waving between them as much as she could, considering she was still sitting on Coffey’s lap.

We all nodded.  I was, honestly, happy to see two people who knew each other that long survive the end of the world together.  “So, I knew Charly did archery - she’s shown me a few times, but I’m terrible at it, turns out. What about you, Coffey?” I paused before realizing how intrusive that might be. “And if you don’t want to answer, it’s okay,” I rushed to clarify.

He smiled in reassurance. “I was security, Before, and… security After, in a way.” Chewing thoughtfully on a bite of bread, he glanced at something none of us could see. “I had a gun, at first - being a black man who grew up in NorthAm before it was NorthAm, it was more prudent than it was deviant at the time.”

“I don’t blame you,” I grumbled, while Tyche nodded and scowled furiously. We were horrifically embarrassed to be related to some of the reasons he needed a gun in the Before.

He tilted his head in a conciliatory fashion, as though he could tell what I was thinking. “In the After, bullets were hard to come by and… not very prudent, it turned out. They drew a lot of attention. Whereas our sneaky Charly…”

“Probably made traps,” Arthur finished nonchalantly.  When a few of us glanced at him, he rolled his eyes. “Oh come on! No one can tell me the queen of pranks and engineering over here did not booby-trap anywhere she was living within an inch of her life and the lives around her.”

Charly beamed, while Coffey just chuckled. “I honestly don’t believe the margin of error was quite that wide, to be frank. But it was safe enough that, before long, we accidentally had an enclave.”

I snorted in an attempt not to choke on my drink, while Conor and Maverick were both glancing at Arthur - the resident warlord.

Arthur just blinked in an almost placid manner. “I’m actually impressed. You started rebuilding by accident.”

“Do I look like someone who decides to take over the world?” Charly pointed out. After a chorus of Yes all around the table, she rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that hobbit holes are a strategically sound idea.”

“Apocalyptic Tolkien,” Tyche whistled. “I like it.”

“Sophia would have loved the library,” Coffey laughed.

My head shot up hard enough to make my neck hurt. “Library?”

He nodded. “Charly had the idea to go rescue every book we could find on camping, how-tos, engineering, historical infrastructure…”

“You just passed every class you are ever in, with flying colors,” Arthur nodded. “I had to make most of my people read - though we did end up with a library and decent bathing infrastructure.”

“Siege engines, Mr. Farro. We were building siege engines.”

He muttered something that sounded like “I will make up classes for you to pass,” but I was willing to bet that he would never admit it. Out loud, he just added “The fact that you not only read voluntarily but got other people to read without being forced has earned you extra credit.” She opened her mouth to object, but he held up a hand. “I’m being entirely serious, and no I won’t take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to try to survive an apocalypse without baths,” she scowled, stabbing a potato. “We may have ended the world, but we weren’t heathens.” Chewing so fast I thought she was going to choke, she immediately started asking Arthur about how he organized plumbing for his group.

“Trenches, aqueducts, and basically I got lucky because someone had a construction background.  We had some records of how Romans built their sewers with something close enough to the materials we had to work with so… it worked out.

With that, the conversation took off in the direction of infrastructure for post-apocalypse settlements, with Conor adding his opinion everywhere possible.  I knew there was no changing the topic, so I just shook my head and tried to keep up.

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[zuucc]

GLASSES: T. JOST I PART 2 I SMUT

Words: 4.5K

Summary: You and Tyson are dating and you both find dealing with the other in glasses quite problematic. 

Warnings: smuttyyyy & some cursing 

Author’s note: It ain’t pure like the last one, I can promise you that, but it’s still cute. But also not that cute ;)))) ENJOY 

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,”

Tyson was lying in bed after the game, and though one might think that he’d be exhausted, his mind was somewhere far away from sleep. Actually, it was at a coffee shop down town, in his car last Friday – it was his hands on your thighs and lips on yours. And those thoughts had him texting you. It was either that or a cold shower with his hand clasped around his length. 

You’d been staring at that one bright orange book among muted colored ones on a library shelve right in front of you for the past thirty minutes, when you got the text. Before that you’d played every Candy Crush-esque game in your phone until you were out of lives on all of them. The text from Tyson was a much nicer, and a much more welcome distraction than both mindless games and that annoying orange book. 

“Me neither, I miss your face,” you text him back, biting your lip as your thoughts drift back to the heated kisses shared in a coffee shop the day before. You shook your head to yourself – only Tyson could have you making out in a coffee shop. Thank God, there was barely anyone there. 

Tyson smiled at the text he got back – he missed your face, too, that’s for sure. 

“What are you up to?” 

“I’m at the library, have done nothing the past hour and a half I think. Might be time to face the facts and leave,” 

“What about you?”

Tyson chuckled to himself when he read your message. 

“What? Even without me there to distract you? I’m just chilling in bed, thought I’d go to bed early but then you popped up in my head,” 

Your cheeks turned red upon reading the text, not only because he was thinking of you, but also because he was in bed thinking of you. Just Tyson in bed, really, was enough to make your cheeks feel hot. 

“Sounds like a dream situation to me,” you tease, before adding an answer to his first question. 

“And yes, today it seems even a single, annoyingly orange book can distract me,” 

“Annoyingly orange. I’m colorblind, but I can only imagine that that’s the same color as JT’s hair. And it is, though I wish you were here. Dreams are so much better when they come true,” Tyson texted you back, and you almost burst out laughing at the comment about his best friend’s ginger hair. Only when you’d calmed down and fought the need to laugh out loud in the library, did you read the rest of the text. Needless to say, you almost made a scene again. 

“I can confirm that that is in fact correct. And here’s a fun fact about me: I love making dreams come true,”

Tyson almost had a heart attack when he read your message, and almost called his sister to get help with deciphering that message, even if it was pretty clear that you wanted to see him. He just wasn’t sure if he could let himself believe that you wanted to come over. He decided he’d just ask, instead. Somehow it was more embarrassing to ask KC for help. 

“So, does this mean that you’ll come over?” he braves the question. 

“If you’ll have me, that can be arranged, yes,” you answer, chuckling to yourself at the amount of time it took him to respond to your message, when it had taken him approximately 0.2 seconds to start typing out his other responses. 

And then you were panicking, because you were not prepared to possibly – most likely – spend the night at his place. But after having a pep talk with yourself in you rear view mirror, you were sure that Tyson wouldn’t care if you weren’t wearing perfectly matching, nice underwear. 

Twenty minutes later you’d arrived at the address Tyson had texted you and been buzzed inside. You were biting your lip in excitement on your way up. Tyson was doing the same thing, as he waited not so patiently in his hallway, regretting the fact that he had thrown on a t-shirt along with the sweatpants he’d put on to come greet you. He’d felt it’d be a bit aggressive to open the door for you in the outfit he’d gone to bed in – the ‘outfit’ being just boxers – though now it felt aggressive to do so shirtless, as well. 

What met you when the door was opened to you, was a sight for sore eyes, and you couldn’t help but stare. Tyson had one hand shoved into a pair of low hanging, grey sweats – and the only other addition to his outfit was a pair of glasses sitting on his nose. The problem was that you didn’t know where to start – the glasses that you didn’t know existed, that sat so cutely on his nose and made him look so cute and at the same time so fucking hot? Or the sweatpants that sat so low on his hips, just loose enough to have your stare wandering a little too far down? Or his bare chest and abs – hard muscles under the skin that showed some evidence of the All Star break spent in the sun? 

You hadn’t even fully entered the apartment yet, you’re leant against the doorway, just staring at him with a wide smile on your lips while he’s still got his hand on the doorknob, just waiting for you to step inside. 

“What?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips, but the only response he’s getting is your smile growing even wider. 

“I should’ve put on a shirt, right?” he says, smiling, but you just shake your head. 

“I should’ve put on a shirt,” he concludes. 

“Uh-uh,” you grin, keeping your gaze at his face – or more accurately, on those glasses. It was something about them that made him look a little older, and even if you loved his boyish smile and laughter, it wasn’t unwelcome. 

“Can you at least come inside,” he laughs, reaching out and pulling you inside by your hand before closing the door behind you. When he closes the door, he automatically steps closers to you, and you’re left looking up at him – beaming.  

“What?” he asks again, smiling just as widely as you. 

“You think I’m cute with glasses, huh?” you tease, laughing as you can see how he’d obviously forgotten that he even had them on. He rolls his eyes at you, but he can’t keep from smiling just as widely as yourself. 

“Oh, come on. That’s it? That’s why you’re acting like this?” he tries to tease back, but it only makes you laugh. 

“Excuse me, who made a scene at freaking coffee shop yesterday because of a pair of glasses?” you mock, stepping closer to him and sliding your arms around his waist. 

“Also, you’re not wearing a shirt – so, there’s that,” you smile, feeling your cheeks heat up just a little bit, even if you aren’t afraid of admitting to being attracted to him. Of course, you’re attracted to him. Though, you’re not willing to tell him how much those grey sweats are working for him.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, letting his hands fall to your hips, and he pulls you closer, all the way until your body is pressed to his. Arching your back, you look up at him with a smile, closing your eyes as he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a loaded kiss – not deep or anything, but there’s something in it that has you looking forward to the next one, and what’s to follow after that. 

“I don’t look as good in glasses as you,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, lightly shoving at him – though more to have an excuse for placing your palms flat against his chest than to actually push him away from you. He places his hands over yours before he lets his fingers curl around your wrists and he once again pulls you back in and places his lips on yours. This one is just like the last one, just enough for you to wonder what comes next. 

“So, uhm, I already went to bed,” Tyson says, tone lowered as he looks between you and the dark living room – the only lights on being the ones lighting way from the entryway to the hallway that you guessed held the doors to the bedrooms and possibly a guest bathroom. He smiles bashfully, feeling a little bit weird about just pulling you straight to his bedroom. You smile, too, thinking he’s adorable for trying to hide the intentions of this visit – even if you were both content with just hanging out, it was inventible and a long time coming – and clear that it was what you both wanted and needed. The sexual tension between you made the air in the room feel thick. 

You nod to the dimly lit hallway with a teasing smile, and he averts his eyes from yours with a growing smile on his lips. Something closely resembling a giggle escapes his lips as he takes his hand in yours and leads you down the hallway. 

“I tried,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

“You did,” you affirm, and he laughs with you. 

Reaching your destination, Tyson turns off the light in the hallway before following you into the bedroom and closing the door behind you. Before you know it, your feet leave the ground and you’re being thrown into the bed, landing in the middle of the bed, ass first and bouncing. There was nothing sexual behind it – at least that’s clear when Tyson’s bent double laughing at your reaction, scream and flailing arms mid-air. Or maybe you just ruined it. 

“That’s the best reaction I’ve ever seen,” he wheezes as he climbs into bed, next to you. Looking past the hilariousness of the situation and the embarrassment of having actual made that sound – he looks so cute laughing, yet so fucking hot shirtless with those low-hanging sweats. As he calms from his laughing fit, he places one hand on the mattress on the other side of your body, positioning himself over you, yet not quite. And there’s no denying the feeling it sends flooding through your body. 

“The best reaction? I’m curious to hear about the other reactions you’ve acquired when throwing girls into beds,” you poke at him as you settle into the soft duvet on top of the even better mattress. He only rolls his eyes at you and repeats a few of your words in a silly voice, putting extra emphasis on the word ‘acquired’, before leaning down and placing a kiss to your cheek. He twists his body around and falls to his back next to you, moving his arm to let you rest your head on it – or maybe just for him to be able to pull you into him. 

“For the record; you’re the first girl in this bed in months – many months,” he mumbles, side-eyeing you, but with a smile on his lips. His free arm lies across his bare torso, his fingers picking at the sleeve of your sweater. 

“First girl in this bed in months, or first girl being thrown in – in months?” you keep teasing, rolling to your side and simultaneously closer to him. 

“Both,,” he laughs, shaking his head at your constant stream of digs. 

“Actually, you’re honored with the title of first girl being thrown in,” he adds to your joke, making you laugh along with him, your hand falling to his abs. You almost regret it when you get the urge to drag your hands over his muscles just seconds later. 

“You’re right, I am honored,” you put the joke to a rest, anxious to have his hands on your body – to having yours on his. 

Once your laughs and giggles calm, you both fall silent. It’s comfortable, your head relaxing against his shoulder; the skin of his chest brushing against your chin when you tilt your head to find him staring right back at you. He smiles all wide and sweet looking at you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss a short moment later. You make out slow and lazy, his fingers creeping up your arm, under your sleeve. Your hand slides across his waist, pulling him closer to you as your tongue tangles with his. There’s nothing urgent in your kisses or touches, you’ve got all the time in the world; yet neither of you can actually wait to have the other bare and skin to skin with themselves. 

When Tyson pulls back, your lips follow his like a magnet to its pole, and the smirk that grazes his lips after that has a red tint coloring your cheeks along with a smile and a sigh. He chuckles as he gets up to pull away the covers, making you creep closer to the pillows to help him get the double duvet out from under you. You’re about to let him throw it back over you when he, sitting on his knees on the beds edge, breaks out in laughter once again. 

“What?” you chuckle, asking in all honesty, reaching out to put a hand on his thigh. 

“It’s just that you’re really getting under the covers wearing jeans,” he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. You grab his wrist and pull him to lay next to you, and his laugh turns into a giggle when you proceed to finish his task of pulling the duvet over your bodies. 

“I was thinking that you were going to pull them off me within the next five minutes anyway, so,” you trail off, smirking as he gasps, mouth falling open and cheeks turning red. 

“Did you now?” he smiles widely, turning to face towards you. 

“Mmhm,” you hum, smiling just as widely as you mirror his movement, turning towards him. 

“If you really want me to make it easier for you, I can take them off myself,” you add, making his cheeks flare up again, which then makes you laughs. 

“Uhm, no – I can manage,” he promises, pushing himself closer to you. 

“You’re sure?” you tease, just barely making out his confirming ‘mhm’ before his lips are pressed against yours with more urgency than before. 

His hand runs along your hip all the way up until he can push his fingers underneath the hem of your sweater, his entire hand now flat against the skin of your waist. A moan escapes your throat when he presses himself against you, his bulge hard against your lower stomach. 

“For the record, I was going to wait at least ten minutes – maybe even fifteen,” he tells you after pulling back; your bottom lip between his teeth before he lets it go and spoke. 

“Fifteen?” you ask in disbelief, looking at him as he nods, a smirk that had the ability to send shock waves through your body, on his lips. 

“Mhm,” he keeps smirking, making you gasp when he hooks his finger into the waist band of your jeans and pulls you closer – so close you’re nearly on top of him. His lips attach to your jaw and you have to work hard with yourself to even find the words to make your next sentence coherent. 

“All jokes aside, Tys, I really need you to touch me,” you manage to mumble it out, the sound of your voice completely different from what it was just a minute before – now, it’s low and desperate for him to give you some sort of relief. 

He hums against your lips and it’s your combined efforts that have you moving on top of him, his hand around the back of your thigh pulling you to him – both yours sliding to the back of his neck. Both of his hands are on your thighs as you straddle him, and as you lean forward to kiss him deeper, his hands slide up to your ass, pushing your hips down to meet his with more force. Soon his hands slide up and underneath your sweater, moving to your front and covering your breasts. Hasting the process, you cross your arms in front of you to pull the thicker garment over your head, revealing a thin bralette that does little to nothing to hide what’s underneath – this morning’s choice of underwear having fallen on this one for it’s comfortableness and not for it’s sexiness. The same goes for the seamless number still hidden under your jeans. 

Sitting up, Tyson attaches his lips to your neck, quickly making a trail down to the tops of your breasts. With a slight push of his fingers, one strap falls down your arm, revealing your plump nipple completely, only for him to cover it with his lips. Grinding your hips into his rewards you with a groan vibrating against your sensitive nub. His hands move to your back, fingers opening the clasp of your bra easily and you throw the thin garment to the floor. Tilting his head up and joining his lips with yours, he shifts your positions, rolling you both around. Kissing you deeply, he presses against you, his length resting heavily against your inner thigh. 

Less than ten minutes after your previous conversation, Tyson once again shoves his fingers under the waistline of your jeans, thumbs working on the button. Sitting back on his heels, the zipper is pulled down and the jeans come off. As he leans back over you, you sneak your hand between your bodies, and with your fingers tangling in curls, you watch his reaction closely as you slip your other hand into his sweats and firmly grab his dick through his boxers. 

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, pressing his lips to yours in an open mouthed kiss, tongues meeting immediately. With your help, Tyson kicks of his sweats, and much like you did, he sneaks a hand between your bodies – a couple of fingers rubbing at your slit through your panties, completely soaking them with your arousal; all to the sound of your moans. 

In one swift motion, your last piece of clothing were on the floor with the rest of them, and he had you gasping as he let two thick fingers slide right into you – his forehead pressed against yours as he watches you. You share a smile when you after some struggle reach the band of his boxers and start pulling at them, a breathy giggle escaping your mouth. The giggle turned into a moan when Tyson abruptly pulled his fingers out of you to help you get them off. The whole thing got Tyson chuckling to himself as he moves to the floor to yank his boxers over his thighs. 

“Come here,” you smile, and he laughs as you make grabby hands at him. Much to your dismay, he removes his glasses and places them on his nightstand before he climbs over you and lays down between your thighs, the head of his dick falling to rest just above your clit, and you moan into the kiss he places on your lips – a slow kiss with less urgency than any of the ones you’d shared after you’d started taking each other’s clothes off. A hand comes up to cradle your jaw and he kisses you softly, yet so deeply, and it’s the kind of kiss that has you trying to arch every single part of you into him. 

Again, with the hand finding its way between your bodies, you look up at him as you curl your fingers around his length – your thumb moving over the head to spread the beads of pre-cum. You look up at him with curious eyes only to see him looking right back at you with a smile on his lips, red and swollen from kissing you. 

“What?” you ask, smiling back at him. He shrugs, his smile turning bashful as you give him look. You tighten your grip on him as you give him another tug, and he groans, falling to rest on his elbows over you. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he mumbles, his face now closer to yours. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you just shrug. His response is a roll of his eyes and a toe-curling kiss. 

“I just really like you, that’s all,” he finally admits, and you stretch your neck to kiss him – openmouthed and deep. Moving your leg to curl around his hip, you change your grip on him and position him perfectly between your legs; the head of his cock pressing against your clit before it slides slowly down your slit, making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. You let go of him, and with his lips still on yours, he thrusts into you with one steady push of his hips. “I really like you, too,” you mumble against his lips before letting him kiss you again, his lips parting and his tongue pushing through to meet yours. Moving his arms further up to rest on each side of your head, he brings one of yours with him, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Are you good?” he asks, his lips moving to your jaw, leaving kisses all the way up to your ear. 

“So good,” you hum, relishing in the feeling of being completely filled by him.

“Good,” he breathes, his lips moving over your skin as he mumbles, his teeth lightly biting at you earlobe as he rolls his hips into yours with more force, though still quite slow. Your moans encourages him it seems, his fingers tightening their grip on yours as he repeats the motion, not faster but a little harder every time. Attaching his lips to yours again, his free hand finds your free one, lacing his fingers with yours just like with your left hand in his right. You wrap your legs around him, giving him another angle to work with – his tip finding your g-spot with each thrust. 

“Tell me what you like,” he groans, your insides clenching around him as he keeps hitting that perfect spot. 

“What?” you manage to ask between moans, throwing your head back as he leaves kisses down your neck, his beard scratching against your soft skin taking the feeling to another level. 

“Tell me what you like,” he demands, and just the underlying tone of his voice sends you closer to your pending orgasm, a moan involuntary leaving your throat. 

“Do you like it rough?” he asks before you even find it in you to as much as think of what your answer should be. Once again, a moan reaches past your tongue before you have a chance to control it, his head coming up from where he’s been littering kisses all over your neck, lips pulled into a smirk as he raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you mumble, trying to conceal the smile spreading on your lips by biting your lower lip.

“Yeah?” he keeps smirking, nearly pulling out of you and driving back in with even more force than earlier. The smirk just gets worse and even harder to handle once he hears the moan he provoked.

“How ‘bout this?” he speaks, his voice deep as his hands leave yours and he pulls out so fast you nearly scream. The nearly-scream just about turns into a full on scream as you’re pulled up and around, landing on your knees, your ass pressed to his front. 

“Fuck, Tyson,” you exhale in a moan-like voice, and he’s sliding into you with full force and sending you right into another near-orgasm string of moans and profanities. His hands land on your hips and his fingers dig into the flesh as he helps you meet his hard thrusts. As you were coming closer and closer to your climax, you found yourself hoping his neighbors weren’t home, or that at least, that the walls were properly isolated, because there was no way that you can keep those moans to yourself, even with your teeth biting into your bottom lip. Tyson groaned behind you and one of his arms slides around your waist, and with the help of his hand curling around your shoulder, he pulls you up – your back pressed against his torso. 

“I’m so close, I’m so close,” you repeat your own words, out of breath and desperate to get that release. With your eyes clenched shut, you let your head fall back on his shoulder as he kisses your neck. Your hand finds the back of his neck in search for something to hold on to; to keep you grounded as you felt like you were about to lose footing and float off to somewhere else once that orgasm hits you. 

“I got you,” he breathes, thrusting into you with everything he’s got while helping out with his hands; one falling to your clit and the other to your breasts.

“I got you, babe,” he repeats, biting onto your shoulder as he puts all his energy into helping you reach your orgasm. And you finally reach it with his thumb and index finger rolling your nipple between them, and two fingers circling over your clit. 

You come with a scream-like moan quickly turning breathy as he lets go as soon as he can feel you clenching around him, and your head falls limp against his cheek. The sound of his soft moans fill your ears and it’s something entirely different than the deep-throated groans you’d been hearing up until now. He’s holding onto you tightly, keeping you both upright and the whole scene has a wide smile spreading on your lips. Just as he’s about to collapse, he manages to twist you both to the side, making sure he doesn’t fall on top of you. 

“Jesus, Tys,” you sigh contently, your back resting against his heaving chest. He chuckles behind you, his cheek pressed to yours and lips glued to your shoulder with kisses. 

“Yeah, that was – good,” he breathes, and you can basically hear him smiling. A matching one plastered on your face, as well. 

“Really good,” you confirm, and once again he manages to amaze you with his strength – one hand winding around your waist and with a hand on your hip he flips you around to face him. 

“Man, you gotta stop that,” you tell him once you land on your other side, your hand falling to his chest, glistening with sweat. And with your hand firmly placed right there you can feel his laughter as it rumbles through his chest. 

“You see, I don’t really think you mean that,” he smirks, letting his fingers run softly over the skin of your waist – the comforter once pulled over the both of you long forgotten. That smirk along with his words has your head falling back again, as you desperately try to fight the feeling it sent crashing over you, but your cheeks still turn red and you still unconsciously clench your thighs together. 

“Just shut up, please,” you sigh, your tone letting him know that he’s completely right about how you definitely like to be man-handled. 

“Fine, I’ll shut up,” he smiles, and though it starts out sweet, that smile still tugs up on the right side, and you roll your eyes at him before he presses his lips to yours again. 

And again. 

And maybe, if you let him, he eats you out just minutes later. 

And just maybe, he fucks you against the wall in the shower, your legs locked around his waist, before you eventually crawl into his embrace for the night, his lips pressed against your temple as his fingers run through your still damp hair.

[minimoll7]

Talk to me about colours, Molly!

*slams open like 3 doors* Oh hell yeah I’ve got a lot to say. This might turn out more rambly tho instead of nicely written since its a special interest of mine but who knows

SO BASICALLY one day I got curious as to why purple was called both purple and violet. The big main colors usually only really have like 1 name to them (like red is just red for an example). Its usually ones like magenta that can be applied to a variety of different hues, shades, tints etc. So I googled it

As you can see here, the left is violet and the right is purple. This was basically the info I was looking for but I ended up learning a bit more than just that. I learned that both of these colors aren’t just one big group, they’re actually completely different colors! In the same sense that cyan and indigo are different colors but often grouped together as just blue

You may be wondering, “how and why are they actually different?” Well.. So you see Luigi, there’s a thing called wavelengths right? Light hits these wavelengths and its basically how we see color. I want you to look up a rainbow, a naturally forming rainbow I mean. Have you ever noticed that there’s violet but no purple? Or even pink? There has never been purple or pink in a naturally formed rainbow. Never. Why? Well its because purple and pink do not have their own wavelengths. Instead they’re combinations. Purple is a perfect combo of red and indigo wavelengths while pink is just simply more on the red side of it. But going back to purple specifically, that’s the scientific reason as to why its not the same color as violet, which many would think is just a more blue-ish purple (which I had thought as well before I learned this)

As someone who has been working with hues lately for character designs (as in making a character for every single hue lol), I’ve learned a few things. To lay some things out, I’m going to list the hue for every pure color

0 is red 30 is orange 60 is yellow 120 is green 180 is cyan 240 is indigo 270 is violet 300 is purple 330 is pink

These are each of these colors at their purest forms. Red has no pink or orange in it, that yellow has no orange or green in it, etc. If you look closely, there’s a bit of a pattern here. Most of the these colors are spaced out by 30 (easily noticeable by orange and yellow, there’s 30 hues between them). There are 3 exceptions. Green has a very large range so the difference between yellow and green are 60. This applies to green-cyan and cyan-indigo. Cyan is the only color in between green and indigo, so I think that’s why there’s a large difference. But aside from that, going from indigo to violet, there’s a 30 hue difference. Same with from violet to purple (and purple to pink, pink to red). So the fact that violet and purple follows this pattern shows their differences even more. Oh and btw that first pic in the post here? Yeah that violet is the same hue as the one in the second pic, its just a bit darker. The same applies to the purple (except the purple in the first pic is even darker)

Pure purple, especially at brighter/lighter hues, is often mistaken for pink, or a more purple-pink. I made that mistake as well for practically my whole life! But its really not the case! Even looking at the difference between indigo and violet, you can see that violet is more of its own color, separate from indigo (indigo is a deeper color than violet btw). Its a bit hard for me to figure out how to show a visual in this next thing I wanna mention, so I’ll try my best!

I’m gonna use yellow here for the example. Pure yellow is 60 right? As you go backwards in the hue, even just by 10, there’s a noticeable difference, its more orangey. Go forward instead by 10 hues, and there’s some green in it. True neutral colors don’t last for to long before there’s a noticeable difference. The same applies to indigo and violet (tho because they’re both rather deep looking colors, it can be a bit hard to see the difference at first, you might have to mess with shades and tints to see it)

On the left, I have indigo (240) and violet (270). But between them I have a hue that is 255, basically a 15 difference between both colors. At the top row its a bit hard to see but for the bottom one, the middle one has a more clear difference between both colors. I tried making another example with colors that have a more obvious visual difference, orange and yellow. I hope this is a good enough example because I kind of have a better chance at explaining this verbally as oppose through text. But the point of this example is to show off that no, violet isn’t just a “bluer purple”. Hue 255 shows a violet that has indigo in it and indigo that violet in it. I can basically do the same thing for an in between of violet and purple (and purple and pink) but at this point, I think you get the picture (I also recommend using art programs to, except for ms paint. That one doesn’t properly show the color wheel. It doesn’t even assign the right hues for the colors either)

Part of figuring out how different violet and purple are really just comes to looking at the colors on your own. Mostly because again I’m not actually as good explaining it through text as I am explaining it verbally. But I can tell you a fun fact! I remember some time ago Youtube recommended me this video of a guy, who was colorblind, playing Minecraft with special designed glasses that was helping him see colors he couldn’t. He was red-green color blind btw. It was a cute video! But after watching that, I was recommended another video from the same person where his friends was playing Minecraft with him but with a red-green colorblind mod on. I don’t fully understand colorblindness, as its not as straight forward as I thought it was (like since yellow is in between red and green, I had thought he couldn’t see yellow but he actually could! If anything green would look yellow to him). One thing that stood out to me tho was how the Nether portal and Endermen eyes would turn indigo. Just straight up indigo. Now it makes sense that he can see indigo just fine, it really does stand out as a really beautiful color in that mod. But its the fact that the Nether portal was indigo. I couldn’t figure out for the longest time as to why that was. Even more so since he could see violet stuff. But after learning about wavelengths and stuff, I figured out why. Because he couldn’t see red at all, he couldn’t see the red in the purple color, since as stated purple is red and indigo combined. If this guy was green-indigo colorblind, then that portal would be red. So I thought that was pretty neat and worth mentioning!

(oh btw its okay to reblog this post if anyone wants to ;w;)