#nature is so important to gil. all aspects of it. he looks at it with such wonder and respect

[softbrawn]

recently I caught myself thinking about how... odd, for lack of better words, is that gil ended up being a pirate while being the son of a hunter, more commonly associated with forest and all. and, you know, I initially had this thought "gil loves all aspects of nature, sure, but the sea is his heart, he couldn't go on without it" but right after it hit me, yes, he can't go without the sea, but the thought of going without the forest is also unbearable. especially when he gets a taste of the real deal after he leaves the isle. so I think, while the sea is his heart, the forest is his soul, and he could not go long without one or the other.

[brave-symphonia]

The Seventh Singularity Babylonia:

So far this is my favorite singularity, which seems to be a trend.

I like the introduction, how we see Ereshkigal kind of in shadow, it kind of hooks you in as you wonder what might be going on.

And the Ishtar introduction is great. Just her running us over like that. It’s a fitting summary of her. I really like how our relationship with her develops over the singularity. Starting with this and her threatening us, to us capturing and letting her go, her saving us, and finally us recruiting her to our side.

I also liked the section where we bribe her.

I also think introducing Enkidu as a good guy, only to turn around and have Medusa and Merlin out him as the villain is good.

I really liked Merlin over the course of this singularity. I found him to be an interesting character. I was a little worried he wouldn't live up to what I expected, but he did. And the revelation that he's been helping us by secretly provided us mana was cool, like he hasn't just been watching without helping at all.

Also, I did not actually expect Fou to have some relation with Merlin, and his interactions with Merlin were always great.

And I really liked the various Medusas. Like Ana was sweet and I really liked her over the course of this arc, and Gorgon as a villain was a good fake out villain.

Like, it's not the first fakeout villain, I mean back in Okeanos Blackbeard was a fakeout villain, but I hated him and just wanted him to go away the whole time. With Gorgon I enjoyed her as a villain. And to have her come back as some kind of middle ground between the two medusas to help us in the end was something I really liked.

And Gilgamesh was definitely a star of this route, he starts off looking so responsible and like such a good king. Handling multiple requests and different aspects of ruling. And you see him throughout the singularity just itching for a fight, making it that much more satisfying when he joins you in that final battle.

I really like how they build up Ana's importance, just dropping a line or two every once in a while about her importance of being on our side. And how they show each goddess being willing to join us, all three helped us and all of them make sense.

Like, Ishtar clearly cares about Uruk, Quetz was actually not that bad and doing her best to avoid destroying humanity, Eresh really did very little damage and was just trying to save humanity in her own way, and Gorgon bonded with us through Ana.

I like how they bring up Tiamat early on and then have Gorgon be an incarnation of Tiamat, only to have her be defeated and reveal the real Tiamat, it makes sure that she doesn't come out of nowhere as a villain. There’s buildup to her reveal.

And honestly, I fully believed Gorgon was the final villain almost up until her defeat. Like she was believable as the threat of the final singularity. You fight her multiple times and then you finally defeat her only to realize it gets so much worse.

Jaguar Warrior was actually a pretty good addition. Funny at times, and at others capable of really being serious when needed.

And the developing relationship between Gilgamesh and Kingu, it really got to me near the end there. Like the way that, even thought Kingu isn't Enkidu, Enkidu's feelings and wishes still persist in his body after all this time.

And the parts where we got to talk to Eresh pretending to be Ishtar were nice. It made me appreciate her all the more for when we finally reached her.

Now, onto Quetzalcoatl, I really liked her. She always seemed upbeat, even though she was scary a few times. And I really enjoyed her interactions with Jaguar. Her "death" really felt emotional to me as she pulled out all the stops there.

And defeating her by having Ishtar launch me at her so I could do a wrestling move on her was just great.

And the odd thing after that, with Gil in the underworld, is that that didn't feel like anything extra to me. It was an extra thing before Gorgon, but it felt very natural. And it helped introduce Eresh properly and the underworld. Someplace that was pivotal to the final battle.

They definitely did a really good job setting up the Gorgon showdown as the final fight. Sacrificing half of Quetz's power and Ana. Having the night before talking with everyone, it gave the perfect feeling for a final fight.

And then the reveal of Tiamat, and then Gilgamesh had planned for this rather than Gorgon, as the forces in Uruk slowly get wittled down bit by bit until nearly no one is left, was really good. Just losing more and more as it goes on and on.

I found the Lahmus annoying to fight, but I think that was the point.

And a mutual told me that the Lahmu that refused to attack you was Siduri, and that makes me really sad.

Having Enkidu be betrayed by Tiamat's creatures though, starting their development, only to come back and save us in the end. Was really good.

Everything we do to fight Tiamat, Quetz's sacrifice, Gorgon coming back, Gilgamesh firing his weapons at the cost of his life, Enkidu restraining her, Eresh opening the underworld, Merlin coming back, Archer Gilgamesh showing up, and finally defeating her. Like, by the end there, it's so satisfying.

I wasn't a huge fan of the random tasks you do, but I understand it's purpose. And, sorry to Ushiwakamaru and Benkei fans, but I wasn't a fan of either of them. So in the moments that I'm sure would've been great for a fan of them, I didn't feel all that much. 

That said, this is definitely my favorite singularity so far.

And now...the singularities are done. All that's left...is Solomon. I'm trying not to rush too much, but I just enjoy the story so much now that it's hard to hold back.

[dgcatanisiri]

So... something kinda hit me abruptly and pushed me to feeling about ready to snap, so... Have a word vomit. Kinda feels like a greatest hits compilation of  my “another angry queer rant” tag, but I need to get it out, so...

I know I’ve been over plenty about how I don’t feel represented even when I have something with gay representation. How I’d give dozens of Dorians and Iron Bulls to get even one run of Inquisition that properly has my male Inquisitor romance Cullen. How when I look at Mass Effect - this franchise that I love - I can only see how much it hates me for being a gay man who dares to seek content for me. How godawful it is that Gil’s story, a story that is explicitly a story centered on a gay man and the difficulties he faces BECAUSE of being gay, was written by a straight person who ABSOLUTELY does not GET. IT. And how fandom as an entity sucks, because so often it feels like the attitude of the people in it comes across as telling me that my desire to be represented in my media somehow comes in second to celebrating the advances solely for women, that my needs as a queer MAN (the emphasis usually theirs) are less important, because I can still see myself AS A MAN in other characters throughout media.

But... That doesn’t change the fact that this is a very real, very tangible THING for me to grapple with. And sometimes it feels like no one ever, EVER talks about this.

I mean, my go-to example is that after Inquisition dropped, you could not say A WORD in criticism of Dorian without people jumping down your throat, chomping at the bit to call you a homophobe for it. No matter what reason - but ESPECIALLY if you thought he was “too stereotypical” - you got hit with that label. Even if you were gay yourself, it was just your “internalized homophobia” that made you dislike him, or even being biased against the people who genuinely do lean in to the stereotypes, don’t they deserve representation too?!

Well, yeah. It’s not like I was saying they don’t. But that it’s a stereotype means it’s often still in media, still often THERE. It’s not always good representation, but it’s something. Meanwhile for those of us who AREN’T? It just meant further exclusion from the narratives. A continuation of our invisibility.

And sure, one queer character cannot represent every queer person, one individual who embodies one letter of the alphabet soup cannot be everything to everyone under that individual label. But, again, it still means that I don’t get to see myself.

If media representation is a life preserver, then I’m getting pulled out to sea while the lifeguards are busy with people who are closer to them than I am. Which, you can call it triage, cast the widest net to hope to get the most people, but when you’re one of those who are not even able to grab on to the net and use it to pull yourself closer, it’s not helping. And, because they’re focused on those who have grabbed on to the net, your struggle continues to be ignored.

Worse, sometimes they aren’t factoring you in the net they’re throwing (yes, I’m aware my metaphor is getting increasingly strained, just work with me here) because they think you’re not in the trouble they think others are - if you can “pass” as cishet, if you can exist without actively fearing for your safety, if you are the kind of person who can walk down the street and not expect to be harassed because you “present” gay, then you’re not as in need as those people who can’t, who are going to be threatened for existing while visibly queer.

But the truth is that you’re still suffering. I’m not gonna get in to the whole oppression Olympics nature of it all, but there is an element that those of us who “pass” as being “straight-acting” (and, for the record, I think these terms are bogus and bullshit, but I’m using them for the sake of simplicity in getting my message across, because I’m stream of consciousnessing this post instead of going to bed so you’re getting babble and word vomit so that this isn’t playing on a loop as I try and sleep) suffer that... I’m not going to say that it makes it worse, but it does have this level of SOMETHING that is a unique pain that you aren’t going to find from the people who are visibly and noticeably queer at a glance - it’s not just isolation, because this is something that you end up not talking about because no one around you realizes that you are queer, but also this voice in the back of your mind that starts questioning “are you REALLY queer? Are you queer ENOUGH?”

And that’s why it hurts that little bit more, is that much more a twist of the knife, when I see these people who push the “joke” of like “why did they even HAVE male Shepard?” or “the only way to play is as Kassandra.” Because it does reinforce this idea - that there is this attitude of this thing, this character that I was seeing as representation doesn’t matter. So that I take strength in that character, well, that’s just me latching on to REPRESENTATION AS A MAN, and we’re not here to protect your fragile masculine ego.

When all I’m looking for is a queer man like I am.

And sometimes, I don’t even feel like the other queer men I can look to get it. Like, there was that time about a year ago that I looked up issues of queer men in video games, and the three videos I found all got an “...and NOPE!” reaction from me - the first argued in math about how “queer people are a small portion of the population, we can’t realistically expect to be represented equally,” even though we’re talking about FICTION, which is, by definition, NOT reality, the second was clearly a cishet who compared not being represented as a queer person to not being represented as a Swedish person, and then a third who first had a thumbnail on a video of “good and bad representation” and Kaidan was the example of bad (so a negative mark against this video to begin with, but I was desperate), only to lead with Dorian as a good example, which... *vague motion above and at the “dorian critical” tag* I staunchly disagree with this stance.

Like... I have to struggle to think of who my role models in being a queer man are. It’s not just who fits my story, but who do I look up to, who inspires me. And, admittedly, the luster for any personal hero seems to inevitable wear off at this point, I’m in my early thirties, and most of the media I consume will have characters who are my age or younger PERIOD, so my queer heroes would have to be people I’d consider either peers or even someone who I am older than...

But then, that’s kinda the thing about being queer period - we lost a generation to AIDS, and for those who followed that generation, we’ve had to live in this world where our heroes don’t exist like us, while trying to pave the way for those who come after us, and who can’t conceive of what it is like to age - as in “go from adulthood to middle age to elder,” not just the matter of growing up from childhood to adulthood - and so even as they’re the one who we want to give all of this to... It still means we suffer because no one is there to offer US that hand.

And yet, try to explain this to media creators, and you get ignored or even shut down. Like, I about a year ago, I directly replied to tweet from Patrick Weekes, explaining how Inquisition failed me, how all bi LIs actually HELP me feel more represented as a queer person than the mix of sexualities that BioWare on the whole has said that they intend to do (re: the difference of LIs in DA2 and Dragon Age Inquisition). It got no response, not even a like to indicate that it’d been read by them. I could form in my head the response I’d have inevitably gotten from David Gaider when he still had an active Tumblr of what would amount to, nicest, “we cannot please everyone, enough people were moved by Dorian’s story to make it worthwhile, sorry.” Given some of my cynicism, I can’t help but believe that it would also have come with a “sorry you feel that way.” Particularly considering some of the comments he’s made about Cullen and Kaidan as LIs, both of whom being characters I connect to more than others in their respective games...

And like... Gaider is a gay man. Weekes is nonbinary. But they are from that generation who view being able to exist openly as queer as a revolutionary statement, which... It’s a statement I want to make, sure, but it’s not a revolutionary one to me - “existence” is the bare minimum. To me, focusing on existence as a queer person is to say that the queer character must justify existing as queer in order to be a part of the narrative. But what is revolutionary to me is to give the queer person a story in the narrative that has NOTHING to do with their queerness.

Like... Fantasy world here, Inquisition drops with Cullen and Cassandra as same-sex exclusive LIs, while every other aspect of their stories are the same. Women can’t romance Cullen, Men can’t romance Cassandra. Other than that, we have Cullen with his addiction/redemption arc and Cassandra not just struggling with her faith but even getting the chance to be Divine. Yes, fandom would FLIP. THE FUCK. OUT. But here’s what it says - the things that these characters go through in the course of the game are not defined by their sexuality. Hell, with these characters specifically, you get characters with MASSIVE relevance to queer stories that AREN’T exclusive to being queer - addiction is a real issue in queer communities, given how many of our safe spaces are bars or clubs, places where alcohol (and thus alcohol abuse) is easily obtained, and, by extension, drugs as well. Meanwhile, there are SCORES of queer people who struggle with the question of faith in the wake of their queerness manifesting.

THAT is revolutionary. To take these stories that straight people get all the time, that certainly have meaning as queer stories for the queer audience... And yet, when they go to these (hypothetically) queer characters, it has that subtext without making the story ABOUT their queerness, while still making it clear that, in this version of things, they are queer - players couldn’t pretend that it’s only in some parallel universe that they are queer, they would only be attracted to the same sex PC. THAT is revolutionary.

Or, y’know, take it back beyond BioWare for a little bit here - all the characters I feel the most connection to emotionally in TV shows are straight. All these men who are my role models only ever get shown being involved with women. At most, they’ll get queerbaited as MAYBE being queer, if you just keep watching! Inevitably, of course, they are not queer by the end of the show - the closest to date is the debacle that is Supernatural.

Yeah, there’s representation for ya.

And then there are those who end up looking at what I see as thoroughly inadequate and... They’re happy. They praise it. They look at this thing that hurts me, that excludes me, that can, when I’m in the bad headspaces, even make me question myself... And they have found something they like with it.

Which, for the record, good for them, genuinely and sincerely, I really am glad that someone is getting something out of this, but... Well, see above: life preserver, isolation, “sorry you feel that way.” Everyone else is getting what they needed, but what about me? When does my representation get to appear? Why am I always being left, scrounging for the scraps of the scraps? Why does other peoples’ representation always seem to get shoved to the front of the line, leaving me languishing in the back.

That’s the real thing about all of those lines of “if you don’t like it, go make your own!” At this point, even if I did manage to get something in my to-write folder cleaned up and ready to go, in reality... How am I supposed to feel like anyone other than me WOULD proceed to read it? That the audience would exist? Because... no one seems to care about this audience. Hell, how would I get anyone to publish it if it is only going to appeal to me?

I feel on the margins of the margins, where no one really cares. Hell, even here in my own blog, I feel afraid of backlash - I’ve had the assholes show up in response to like little brief comments that are off-the-cuff rambles, not worded in a way that makes them a full, detailed accounting, and either take them as evidence that I, personally, represent all that is wrong with fandom at large, or that I am a target for their trolling. Because saying that “I find the jokes about male Shepard not mattering to be diminishing of me as a queer person, can we please stop this?” is somehow not just lesbophobic, but VIOLENTLY lesbophobic. Or that saying that I don’t care that bad things happen to a fictional species is somehow advocating for violence against actual women. Or even explicitly calling out BioWare for lovingly lingering the camera on Miranda’s ass is slutshaming her. And of course, there are the assholes who responded to me saying on the BioWare Twitter announcement post for the Legendary Edition that, if it didn’t have a full trilogy male Shepard/Kaidan romance, I wasn’t buying it, and proceeded to a) call me entitled for it (like, read a dictionary, the very fact that I have to call for this content that doesn’t exist in the game proper is the OPPOSITE of entitlement...), b) tell me that I “shouldn’t deny [myself] a great story just because it doesn’t have gay people in it” and c) just generally be homophobic. Even in rolling with it on the basis of “the trolls are gonna show up period if you make it clear that you care about something, especially if you are trying to get representation for some group that is in the minority... It gets exhausting. It can be harmful. It makes it clear that you’re not welcome, even when you’re supposedly united by the fact that you and these people supposedly love the same piece of media.

I mean, among those examples, I’ve given the statements that inspired those responses no tags other than my own organizational tags, but SOMEHOW they find me anyway, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I got accused of like being another White Gay™ with this post, that I simply want to center the conversation wholly on myself at the expense of all other intersections of queerness and other identities or something for saying all of this, even though this is, and it says so from the start, a vent post, which, by definition, is centered on myself because it’s about me and my experiences and emotions. *sigh*

Anyway...

And, y’know, when BioWare actively refuses to even ACKNOWLEDGE that the absence of a full trilogy M/M romance option is a bad thing, it just ends up saying that the trolls are actually the audience they’re willing to court. That Supernatural ending with a brothers only focus that doesn’t even allow Cas to be mentioned other than offhandedly while suppressing ANY kind of emotional fallout to his admission of love says that they don’t care about the queer people who at the very least the actor was trying to be respectful and representative of. That every piece of media that says that to have a queer person in it, their presence must be explained and justified is saying that there needs to be a REASON for queerness, a reason that is not “because people are queer, and queer people come in as many stripes as cishet people, and so media should reflect that spectrum just as much.”

Even when the numbers of queer characters in media goes up, it doesn’t really move the needle. And that’s not even getting to the difficulties when you are any mix-and-match combo under the queer umbrella, or any other identity that intersects to marginalize someone in our society. It just...

Y’know, it doesn’t feel like “it gets better.” Rather it just feels like being stuck in position, just with a changing backdrop. Sure, things look different by the end of the day, but that doesn’t change that you’re not getting anywhere.

[cerezawrites]

FFXIV Writes 2021 Prompt 1: Foster

The morning sun in Limsa Lominsa took longer to be visible than it did to change the tapestry of the sky, thanks to the mountains to the east, and that suited Cereza fine as she sipped her morning tea on the porch of the Bismarck, reading over new tome she’d recently acquired - a work of Eastern creation, imported through the House of Splendors.  Though grimoires and codices were prized for their aetherial properties, Cereza had little need for improvement in that regard at the moment - the leather bound tome at her hip was far more potent in that regard, as were at least five others in her possession.  For her, the foreign tome was far more valuable for the secrets written within, the philosophies behind its creation and the legends that inspired the shapes the magicks took.  And, even beyond that, the stories within made for a good way to get the mind working up to speed, alongside a good breakfast and a cup of well-made tea.  

As she finished the current legend and considered which to try next, however, she spotted a figure approaching the host stand - one she recognized, and was pleasantly surprised to find here in Limsa, at least at this hour.  The porch was filling up, and there seemed to be a misunderstanding between the figure and the hostess - the latter assuming the former wanted a table that wasn’t currently available, and the former trying to impress that he was here to see someone specifically.  

Had it been anyone else, Cereza wouldn’t have paid much mind.  But, he was someone she knew, and well at that, and the only reasonable person he’d come here to visit would be her.  She caught the waiter’s eye, and asked him to clear up the confusion and bring the newcomer to her table, and made a specific order on his behalf to be cooked immediately afterwards.  The waiter nodded, well used to the odd meetings the gentlewoman had on this balcony, and went about the requested tasks, bringing the young man to Cereza’s table before heading to the kitchen to put in her new order.  

“I’m glad you were able to see the stand,” the man said as he came over, a smile of relief on his face.  He was dressed in a fine set of clothes, clearly a gentleman himself, and carried himself as one, but stiffly, not quite having grown into it yet.  

Cereza sighed inwardly at that.  Ten years, and it still doesn’t feel right to him; he needs to relax.  But she didn’t let her feelings show as she responded.  “Well, it is prudent to keep an eye on the easiest exit - as well as the easiest entrance for anyone looking to stir up trouble.  The waters behind me offer an alternative to the former, and pose an impediment to the latter.”  She then smiled and stood, embracing the young man, who finally let some of the tension out of his shoulders and embraced back.  As the broke and sat again, she said, “But tell me, Jacob, my dear brother, what brings you here this morning?  And all the way from Gridania?  You didn’t send word ahead, so I’m assuming you used the aethernet, if it was me you were coming to visit.”  She didn’t need to wonder HOW he found her - the family linkshell would have let him know the general area, and when she was staying here she generally took breakfast at the Bismarck - but the “why” of such a sudden visit eluded her.  

The waiter came and poured tea for Jacob, and bowed slightly, to which Jacob nodded his head.  He took a sip, and his brows rose in delight at the flavor before he composed himself and spoke.  “Well… your parents have decided to name me the heir to the firm.”  

“Ah, finally!” Cereza exclaimed.  “You’ve pretty much run the damn business for the last two years.  I’m glad they finally came around and actually made it official.”  But her excitement was met by surprise and… hesitation?  Was that it?  On Jacob’s face.  She returned this with a puzzled look, and then asked.  “...are you… upset by this?”  

Jacob was quick to shake his head. “Oh… no, not at all!  I’m… I’m very honored!  But… all the same… it does have me a bit… worried… I mean…”  He seemed to be unsure of what he was trying to say.  

Cereza was puzzled by this at first, trying to put pieces together.  Jacob had been taken in by her parents after the Battle of Silvertear Skies.  His parents had been in the area, prospecting for a mining operation, and were believed killed by the Garlean assault and the events that transpired after.  He’d often stayed with Cereza’s family whenever his parents went abroad, and had grown up with her and her siblings, so it was natural that they foster him, but never been formally adopted into the family, in part because her parents held out hope that HIS, a couple they were great friends with, were still alive, and in part because of his budding relationship with Cereza’s sister, which they didn’t want to interfere with.  Despite that, he’d been all but integrated into the family, and became family through marriage to Yvette just before the Calamity, and had been like a brother to her in fact if not in name.  

Ah.  And that was the rub.  

“You’re upset… because you think *I’d* be upset that they didn’t give the firm to me?  Or upset on my behalf because I was… what, passed over?”  

“Well… yes!  Even when they took me in, when you were only, what, sixteen, seventeen? you were working for the firm.  You were a genius at the alchemy of the dyes and the logistics, and I thought… I mean… isn’t it your birthright?  I love your parents, and I’m glad they trust me… but yet… I’m not their son.  You’re their daughter, and eldest child at that.  Shouldn’t be yours?”  

Her puzzled look remained for a moment before she closed her eyes and set her face to a neutral expression, closing the tome in front of her as she did.  She opened her eyes again, looked at Jacob, and lightly smacked the top of his head with the spine of the book.  

“Brother.  Quit being a moron about this.”  

He shook his head.  “Did… did you just hit me wit-”

“With my book, yes.  Like I did when you were being an idiot as a child at lessons, and then when you were unsure of Yvette’s feelings when she flirted with you and you were an idiot in love.  Because right now, you are being an idiot.”  She shook her head and sipped her tea before continuing.  “In case you somehow don’t recall, I spent five years - five whole damn years - lost after the Calamity.  I didn’t see our family for five years, and they heard nothing from me because I had no way to get a message to them.  In that time, from what my parents told me after, you were a dutiful son.  You helped run the firm when they were stricken with grief, both at the Calamity AND at my presumed demise.  You did your best to be a rock for them - ALL of them, my sisters and my parents and all - in the troubles that followed.  And when it came to the business, you were amazing at it.  Yes, I could run the damn firm, and had the skills to do so, but I never had INTEREST in it.  I worked at it for a bit because it was something to try, and I had a share in the company and wanted to know what it was about - not because it was expected of me, and not because it was a responsibility.  Father always made it clear I was free to do what I wanted.  And then I found out I hated the monotony of the work, regardless of my talents, and became an adventurer.  YOU were the one who took to it, who learned all the aspects, who fell in love with the work as much as with Yvette.  Why in the name of the Twelve would I begrudge you OR my parents for you taking over?”  

“But…”  He stammered a bit. “I’m..  I”m not their son.”  

“The seventh hell you’re not.  By blood, you’re not related to us, but damn it Jacob, you’re their son in every other way that matters.  My brother.  They took you in.  They didn’t have to.  Your parent’s estate could have paid for a carer for you.  And they didn’t do it to get AT that estate either, you may well recall.  They did it because you were someone they cared about.  And in the time since then, you became a son to them.  And then you married my sister and became a son in law, making it as complete and true as they could.”  She stopped, inhaling and exhaling to calm down.  Jacob was speechless, and recognizing that, she continued.  

“Besides that, they’re hardly traditionalists, especially by Gridanian standard.  I suppose that goes without saying for Father, but even so.  They’d have made you marry me as the eldest if they had been… or shipped me off to some Ishgardian convent so you COULD marry Yvette.  But they never cared about things like that.  You are the one who loves the business.  You carried the family through the darkness of the Seventh Umbral Era, and when I FINALLY returned, when everyone thought I was a ghost of a dead woman, you were the one who came to me and embraced me and welcomed me home.  You’re as much a son as I’m their daughter, and you ARE my brother in any way that matters.  And I couldn’t be happier that they named you heir.”  

Jacob’s eyes were a bit misty, but he held himself together.  “I… I didn’t realize.”  He stopped, breathing in and out as well, before saying.  “Well.  Thank you.  I’m… glad to hear you’re happy.  But… to be sure… do you want a bigger share, for all you’ve done in the pa-”  He cut himself off as her hand went for her book.  

“Jacob, they could cut me off from my funds tomorrow and I’d not have to change a thing.  I have the share all the children got when they came of age, and I’ll be damned if I take a single gil from you for work you’re doing.  Besides that, I have my own ventures now, and that brings in more than enough to enjoy myself.  You take what you have earned, brother, and don’t dare try to be charitable with it to me out of misplaced guilt.”  She smiled and shook her head.  “Besides, Yvette told me you have another on the way,  Save for the children.  They’re the ones who need it.  And congratulations on the third child, by the way.  If it’s a girl, please don’t name her after me.”

Jacob laughed at that.  “Don’t worry.  I think Yvette cut that option off the list in fear that you’d know if she CONSIDERED it.”  His laughs subsided, but he still smiled… and seemed to be a bit less stiff.  Well, finally the part starts to fit him.  “Well… I guess that settles all my business then.  I should be of-”  

“Not before you have the breakfast I ordered for you and we talk about other things,” she said, holding up a hand.  As she did, the waiter brought over the plate of food, a breakfast she knew Jacob loved.  “You’re taking the aethernet back anyways, and there’s no business THIS early, even on Gridanian time.  Eat, and let’s just talk.”  The waiter poured her another cup of tea, and she sipped it as she caught up with her brother.  Foster or not, he was family, and no matter what other adventures called, she always had time for family.  

[voidiots]

[For an IC Tarot Reading: 🚀-Shooting Forward] "I'm concerned that the paths I'm taking may not take me to my destination. What can I do to ensure I keep moving in the right direction?"

IC Symbol Tarot 

Una’to cants his head to the side, studying the other Miqo’te for a moment with a small smile that grows as he listens to her. “Well, let’s see what sort of map the fates lay out before you, no? Mind you I am but the messenger in such affairs, and that should the road you see before you be one you dislike, you can change the direction you take. With that said, I’ll get set up and shuffle the deck for you”.

He unwraps his deck of cards, black with gold marigolds on their backs and gilded sides. With care he places the cloth between them, and shuffles the deck in silence before laying five cards out in a cross road pattern that’s missing it’s fourth southern road. He points to the top most card, a skeleton outlined in white on a black starry background adorned in a shawl with a gold halo and holding a golden star upon the cards face. “We start here with your dream occupation. What it looks like, your everyday life, your role, and what you would gain from it. Mind you this card has a large impact and is one of the special ones in this deck. In this place is a card full of magic. Magic being to bring the will into creation. It is willpower, desire, creation, and manifestation. It is desire incarnate. Vague as it sounds it seems as if your dream job is one that requires willpower to manifest something into reality, using all the resources at your disposal to do so. Otherwise in a more literal sense it’s perhaps magic related in itself. Either way, you have more of the pieces than I do into this matter. The main thing is creation of some sort however”.

He then moves to the next card, just below the first, tapping it’s face with a claw gently. A skull pierced with five golden swords, two daggers on either side of it in white, and one final dagger in gold below the swords points. “This is your path forward towards your goal. How you can get there. This card is one of an ending after wounds have been sustained. Still fresh, but with them has come and understanding of a betrayal you suffer at the hands of another that you may have need of no longer. It’s a time of reviving, rejuvenation, and the inevitable end of something that is holding you back. There is a message of seeing it before it happens, but the important part is the recovery from the fallout that will allow you to move forward unburdened”.

With a smooth motion he points at the card below the former, reaching the middle of the cross in the spread. A skeleton dressed only as the most regal dress from Ul’dah. “These are your qualities that are within you and will help you with this dream. The card here is one of greed, indulgence, and sensuality. There is success financially, likely from past experiences and jobs but that can lead to temptations in what you long for. Which isn’t inherently terrible of course as it can manifest in many ways. In this case it tends to speak of spending Gil on indulgences, and endless desires that distracts from more spiritual purposes. I’m not sure what the morality of what you want to do is, but it should seem you may not need them to help you reach your goal”.

Another movement, to his left this time to tap the second to last card. A hand with an eye tattoo on a finger, clasping the other. Six golden rings on fingers wrapped about a haloed knife. “Your sources of help are represented here. Those who can help you and the networks available to you. There is a message of charity, generosity, and sharing here. A sort of trade seems to be here from you or be about the parties that can aid you. Compassion and understanding here brings about sharing and charity that may come to help you reach what you long to achieve. Though the fruits that are shared here are born from a labor, and given with the understanding that should luck turn you help the other, or they help you. A partnership of sorts for who ever is down on their luck to be brought back up”.

He picks up the final card, showing it’s face clearly. Another skeleton with a halo, seated with a knife in it’s hand, and a shawl over it’s skull flanked by a garland of flowers and plants. “Finally, what needs attention that can impact this path you are on. This card is special, much like the fist one in that it carries a great weight. It is a card of motherhood, fertility, and nature. The figure here is motherly and nurturing, a provider to all as our star is a provider to us all. She is all that is feminine. There are a few ways this can manifest. It could be that you need to work on the nurturing aspects of yourself and in what you provide others. Or perhaps there is a figure like this you haven’t seen in a while that you need to look into before they can change and impact this path you are running along to your goals. Truly you have the answers here more than I, I can only offer conjecture”.

With the closing he gathers up the cards in a neat pile, before putting them back into the rest of the deck with that same smile he’s had since the start. “I hope that’s the sort of insight you were looking for. If not, I’m always more than happy to read more roads and give you more maps”.

Thank you for the tarot request @kitty-candlestick! I hope it’s a fun read and what was expected. Or along the lines of what was expected! If not, feel free to send in more requests!

[a-memory-of]

Kazha'a Anhsari kept pace with Laurens, walking at his side and not at his back, or too far ahead. He seemed outwardly content, at the least, as much as he could be. The way his ears flicked and followed sound, however, showed his guard was not relaxed. Every now and again, he'd scan the treeline. He did not want to expect his clan. Most would not dare come close to a settlement, save the two that had followed him to Laurens' steps and took his sight.

He'd catch a glance now and again, and shoved his hands in pockets, turning away just as fast. He knew what Laurens was thinking. Or at least he had a guess. "You don't have to worry about me all the time." It came as something of a surprise when Kazha'a spoke. Laurens Lalier openly looked to him, letting the words sink in and process before he nodded slowly. "I know. But just because I don't have to be doesn't mean I'm not concerned about your well-being. I don't want them showing up here, either."

Laurens wasn't paranoid about it. He could, most of the time, forget that there was a whole band of Keepers who would gladly eliminate the one of their own who was staying there with him. But leaving those walls and their immediate surroundings reminded him of that vulnerability. "I can't leave all the worry solely to you." Kazha'a sighed again, slowly drawing his hands out of his pockets. No matter how long had passed, it seemed he could not shake the odd feeling it have him to know someone else was there. Someone else was helping to keep an eye out, and someone else cared about his well-being. He almost opened his mouth to say that  he wasn't worried. But it would have been a lie.

Thankfully, the road was quiet. And there was no sign of a rogue clan or otherwise as they neared the city proper. Some, not all, of the tension faded from Kazha'a's shoulders. His clan would not come here. For the time being, he did not have to worry about them. A crowded city however, was another story. As they walked up to the city gates, Laurens touched his hand between Kazha'a's shoulder blades. It was no secret that they were entering the territory of people who had little love for either of their kinds, but Laurens at least had some experience with the city. "Try to act natural," he offered by way of advice. "Don't stare and try not to look any of the guards in the eye; some will take that as a challenge."

The Wailers at the gate gave them a quick, mostly disinterested once-over as they passed through into Gridania. There were far more people around than Laurens was completely comfortable with, but he didn't have any choice in the matter. He just held the hope that once they were well away from the aetheryte plaza the amount of people would recede. Gridania wasn't Ul'dah, after all. It didn't have the same draw for adventurers seeking that quick Syndicate or Monetarist coin. With the hand at his back, Kazha'a briefly glanced up to the other but otherwise let it be. Kazha'a's ears lowered, and his face had trained back into that well-practiced scowl that had become strangely absent in his time at the cabin. The city proper was nothing like the villages nestled elsewhere in the Shroud. He had dealt with them before. But Gridania was a place he rarely desired to go.

Kazha'a did as he was told though, likely only not to cause trouble for Laurens. He didn't fear city guards and Wailers much on his own. He stuck close to the other's side, having to hold back a growl or two when people drew to close. The Miqo'te kept edging his way between Laurens and others, in an oddly protective way. He didn't say anything, or call attention when he did, he simply was there each time. The hand at Kazha'a's back didn't stay there long. Laurens withdrew it as they made their way through the main area of town, letting Kazha'a go at his own pace without any of Laurens's gentle prodding. The protective aspect of the Keeper's behavior mostly escaped his notice, at least until a bespectacled young Hyur woman came up to them and was met by Kazha'a.

"Laurens, what are-- oh, goodness, who are you?" she asked, giving Kazha'a a quick glance-over that seemed to size him up all at once.

"Mathilda." Laurens's eyes widened and he touched Kazha'a's shoulder lightly as a gesture to stand down. "Er... Mathilda, this is my friend Kazha'a. Kazha'a, this is Mathilda - my editor. Who I'm sure is off on some important business already, so we shouldn't keep her?"

Mathilda's appraising look intensified, the keen gray eyes behind her glasses narrowing slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Kazha'a. I didn't realize Laurens had friends in the city." Kazha'a was also quick to size up the woman himself, eyes trailing up and down. She certainly didn't seem a threat, but that didn't mean she couldn't be. He blew a breath out his nose, huffing slightly as Laurens touched his shoulder. He crossed his arms across his chest, stepping to the side only enough that he wasn't fully in front of him anymore. His eyes never left her.

As they were introduced, Kazha'a's ears lowered slightly. Something about the way she kept looking at him unnerved him. He grunted, looking away with a curl of his lip, "I'm not from the city." "No?" Mathilda asked with a lift of her eyebrows. "Well, then good for you getting him to come here. It's usually quite the struggle just to get him out of the house!"

Laurens coughed into his closed fist, his cheeks darkening with a blush. "Ah, well. Sometimes there are reasons to go into the city. Other times there aren't."

"Are they the reason why you requested two extensions the other moon?" Her smile was, if not knowing, then definitely presuming to know. "But you're correct, I do need to be getting to a meeting. Have fun, you two. I look forward to hearing more about it in the future." He didn't really understand or care to understand most of what was being said. It was Laurens' own business how he spent his time, the woman should stay out of it. And then there was talk of extensions. Kazha'a blew out another breath as she left, arms still crossed. He had already decided he didn't like her much.

Kazha'a's ears raised up a bit, and he looked back to Laurens expectantly. He felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what. So instead, he slowly uncrossed his arms, and opted for a change of subject instead, "We're... looking for a place that sells books, right?"

With @ffxivaltstars

Laurens rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and also a little embarrassed. "Oh, ah... yes. Yes, of course." He reached for Kazha'a's hand so they didn't get separated, leading the way toward the little bookshop nestled amongst the other shops and stalls. "I am sorry about Mathilda. She can be a little... overwhelming, at times. But she really is the best editor I've ever had."

The bookstore was not a very large place, but it had many shelves all around and all lined with various books of different sizes and colors. It smelled like a proper bookstore, too: dust, old books, and furniture polish. Laurens seemed to find ease here, his tense shoulders relaxing as he let his hand drop. "I'm certain we can find something here," he said with a nod. He politely - and perhaps with a bit of returning embarrassment - ignored the little stand near the front of the shop that contained several copies of the same books that sat in a box in his living room. "We'll probably want to try the first area on your right. Picture books and ones for new readers." Kazha'a looked down at their hands, then back up to Laurens' face and down again. It was his turn to color slightly. He had yet to get used to that feeling, and while he wasn't opposed, it was still such a new sensation. He shook his head as they walked, still probably a bit too hyper-aware and on edge for a simple shopping trip. Though the protective tension seemed to lift a bit while holding hands.

"Is it... true what she said? About missing things because of me?" he asked quietly, almost without thinking. He seemed troubled by it. But they had already reached the book store, and the familiar books in the window quieted him.

It took everything he had not to glare at the shopkeeper as he passed. He followed along to the directed area, glancing at the wall of books. These were different, most had pictures or drawings on the covers, unlike other books he'd seen. He scanned them, perhaps waiting for Laurens to pick something for him, until his eyes fell on a small book with the picture of a lion on the cover. He took it from the shelf with a curious head-tilt. And while he himself couldn't read it, the book promised a story of a gladiatorial lion that didn't wish to fight. "I've delayed deadlines for less," Laurens said, almost to himself. "A person's life is worth far more than fiction."

He let Kazha'a explore and skim over the books on his own, waiting until something caught his attention before reaching for a couple of books that covered the basics of letters and how to begin putting them together. For Kazha'a to have even a little interest in a book of his own choosing would certainly help; it was the beginning of a goal to work toward.

"Did you find something you might like?" Laurens asked after a moment of letting Kazha'a flip through the book and form his own opinion. "I've heard good things about Ferid the Lion, though I've not actually read it myself." Blinking down at the book he'd chosen once learning its name, Kazha'a tilted his head. He looked back to the rows of other books upon the shelves. There were some with pictures of children on it, playing. He had no connection to things like this. For some reason, at least, this one he found something perhaps.

With a quiet nod, he handed it to Laurens then began to dig in one of is hip bags for his gil. Laurens nodded his acknowledgment, picking up a few of the very early reader letter-recognition type books before he walked over to the cash register where the proprietor waited.

"Will that be all today?" the Wildwood man asked, surprisingly less patronizing than most might expect. Laurens was, after all, a fairly regular customer who spent a decent amount of coin - anyone coming along with him would be given a similar respect.

"Yes, Raulf, I think this should do it," Laurens replied, indicating the book that Kazha'a held as well. "And if you don't mind, will you add my friend here to my account? Anything he wants if I'm not here, I'll settle with you at the end of the month." Laurens took out his own gil pouch, counting out a handful of coins while the total was still being calculated. Kazha'a followed to the front desk, and did his best to train himself back, avoiding glaring at the shop-keep. He seemed surprisingly more accepting of his presence than he was used to. But as Laurens spoke the man's name, Kazha'a figured they, at least, were familiar with each other. He ought to be, with his books in the window like that.

When the attention shifted to him, Kazha'a's ears lowered back, but he relinquished his book onto the counter. He, too, had his gil out waiting for what he owed. He did far better with numbers, at least when it came to coin, than he did with written words. It was something he had to learn fast selling his blades as he did.

He made a slight face at being added to Laurens' account, raising an unsure brow. He opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance back to the Wildwood had him snapping his lips shut again. The shopkeeper's eyebrows lifted, but he nodded. "All right. But you're paying for these, right?"

"Yes, of course." Laurens looked to the total and began to extend his hand, but stopped after a glance at Kazha'a. "My apologies, I made an assumption. My friend here will be paying for his own purchase."

The proprietor of the store adjusted the totals, collecting from Laurens what he owed for the rest of the books before turning his attention to the quiet Keeper. "Just the one for you? Then that'll be 5 gil, please." Ever the independent, Kazha'a gave Laurens a grateful look for allowing him this. Perhaps it was foolish, and perhaps one day he'd be more inclined to allow the other to buy him things, but for now, after all the other had already done for him it did not feel right. Kazha'a had few things that were his, and he took pride in what was.

Counting out the gil, he placed the amount on the counter and slide the book into his other hand. He looked down at it again, at the simple cover with the picture of a lion. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes, a muted excitement perhaps. A boyish wonder that was a little off for someone his age. But Kazha'a was quick to train it back, looking between the two Elezen as if he was wary of being seen.

[gweyowmi]

Gweyowmi Rose Character Sheet

Childhood

Abandoned as a small child, Gweyowmi was found at the age of two by an angry old pirate between two palm trees along the coast at Costa Del Sol. He saw that she was starving and unable to survive so reluctantly brought her home. He did this only because he decided he had already seen enough women and children die in his time and there was no treasure to be had for this young sun seekers death. She grew up in the fringes of Costa Del Sol, with only animals from the wild she would befriend from a deeply ingrained feeling of loneliness. The pirate would raise her, teaching her how to fight, and unintentionally, his attitude about the worth of others lives when there was something to be gained by robbing or killing. As a result she developed poor social skills, the ability to drink the best of 'em under the table, and little regard for others beyond a very small circle of souls she would ever truly care about.

At age 14 Gweyowmi ran away from home wanting to explore and see someone, anyone, her own age. She was found by a Madam who was never seen without her pipe, smoke circling the air around her like a cloud of poison. This Madam lured Gweyowmi into her brothel at first for cheap labor, with the intention to train her in the arts of seduction and charm. Gweyowmi was not nearly as naive as the Madam had assumed. She stayed for two years learning all that she could, silently sneaking around and spying on others to learn different tricks to deception and charm, learning to master social cues and reading others. Gweyowmi saw first hand the lessons her adoptive father had always taught her about others. If there is something to be gained, and no one there to stand as witness, even the most noble in appearance will often succumb to their own selfish desires at the cost of others. This confirmed for her that she should always look out for herself and only herself despite her strong desire for companionship. At 16 she ran away and then began to apply what knowledge she already had.

Gweyowmi has zero interest in politics, rules, social expectations or anything at all that would inhibit her from living how she wants to. She only modifies herself if it serves her a purpose, be it an invite to an event, occasionally giving to the poor or unfortunate out of a subconscious need to try and fix others who are broken, or obtain something she desires.

Work

Fluent in several languages, athletic, charming, beautiful, Gweyowmi might as well have written the book on infiltration and seduction. Combined with her lack of regard for life when gil becomes involved she naturally became a mercenary with her specialty being covert jobs assassinating and other types of high risk jobs. She shows zero discretion in who she kills once the price has been agreed upon. Extra up charge for cold and damp environments as she despises the snow and cold considering she grew up along the beach and spent her teen years in Limsa.

Communication is key in work and life, Gweyowmi figures out a targets desires and wants then molds herself to best fulfill that desire to get close to the target if this is applicable then poisons them, she prefers this to killing from afar. Otherwise she changes her appearance, the way she walks and holds herself, is a master at quick change technique in the middle of a crowd with out missing a beat, changing her voice tone and laugh to fit the role needed for the job. Sometimes she will steal uniforms that are commonly seen and discounted so she is not remembered by passerby's and infiltrate the area to find an opportunity to neutralize her target.

Between the extreme personality shift and her appearance being masked Gweyowmi can easily go unnoticed or recognized when she needs to.

About

Despite being a person who will kill any man, or woman for the right price, Gweyowmi is not completely without a heart. Nor does she wish to ever pass up a good time. When Gweyowmi is not on a job she appears on the surface to be a carefree bikini clad sun seeker Miqo'te often playing down on her own intelligence level, and pretending to be clumsy. Often fun loving, confident, outgoing and social, interact with her enough you will begin to notice hints of something lying beneath her sunny persona, however this may be hard to break through. She is often seen with animals following her around. If she sees an abandoned or wounded animal she will carefully take them in, giving them medical care and treatments. She never imprisons them, but if they wish to stay with her she continues to feed them and carry them around as they wish. Since she too was abandoned as a child, and animals were the first friends she had, she has quite the large soft spot for lost, broken, and abused. Paired with the inner desire to have a normal relationship with someone she can truly trust and confide in, Gweyowmi often attempts to make friends but pulls back with an ingrained fear of being abandoned self-sabotaging her relationships. If you are able to become friends with her though, she would easily slay an entire village, trekking across all of Eorzea for you.

After all, Gweyowmi wants to be loved, and she wants to have someone to trust. Her adoptive father always taught her to be self reliant however there's a flame of desire for companionship burning within her that refuses to be extinguished. She compartmentalizes well work from other aspects of her life. This allows for her to socialize and blend into the crowd while living day to day life. For this reason, and perhaps others, Gweyowmi on the surface appears to be nothing other than a typical happy woman who just seems to severely lack the understanding of how society dresses or expects women to dress.

Traits

Age: 26

Race: Miqo'te - Sun Seeker

Height: 4'6" - 137 cm

Weight:  38kg 

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Blonde or black usually, changes fairly often.

Skin Tone: Deep Tan

Orientation: Pansexual

Birthplace: ????

Grew up: In some woods along the border of the Beach by Limsa Lominsa

Tribe: Unknown

Family: Adoptive Father.

Alignment: neutral

Likes: Gil, parties, drinking, gambling, treasure hunting, sassy or shy characters, broody types.

Dislikes: Hero’s of any sort, Lawfully good especially, Ishguardian nobles, Tribal types(since she was abandoned), too serious of personalities. 

Sample

Drinking her preferred simple drink of dark rum mixed with cream, Gweyowmi is slid a piece of paper beneath the next glass she orders. She delicately cups the glass with both hands, her right hand at the very base of the glass. While lifting the glass to her mouth with her left hand she leaves her right hand low and casually lays her hand flat on the bar top tucking the paper into her palm to retrieve. She expected a reply to her requested price, however did not expect such a quick one. Regardless she isn't in a rush to finish her evening so soon. Brushing a stray strand of pale hair from her temple she begins mentally preparing and plotting her next targets demise.

She smiles sweetly to the barkeep as this is a bar she often frequents and leaves him a generous tip. Gweyowmi understands there's three basic desires to everyone, sex, money, and rest. By fulfilling these needs to others she ensures she in return gets treated well at places she favors to spend time in. Letting herself slide off the bar as she is small in stature and cannot touch the ground typically when seated, she hits the ground with barely a noise, slipping away into the crowd disappearing.

Once safely away from prying eyes Gweyowmi takes out the paper she was discreetly slipped and reads the name and location of her next mark. She can see the price she had replied with has been agreed to and collects her things along with a dark wig and disappears in the dead of night out of her home traveling to a city in a neighboring country. She stops momentarily at the beach outside of her apartment admiring the calm sea. Moonlight glints on the crest of small waves gently coming in with the tide, the sight of the sea always calms and centers her. Water is the most adaptable of all elements, can be the most brutal and devastating source of harm, but is also required for all life, and beloved by most for play. Gweyowmi sprints off into the night reminded again that one of the most important things in life, is the ability to adapt.

------

Koala Pet

Precariously balancing herself, hidden well within the protective foliage of a well established tree Gweyowmi is resting. She hears a strange noise with an infliction of pain in the tone, and looks below scanning the area. There is a koala limping around and is being harassed by some larger creature with the lust for murder glowing in its eyes. Gweyowmi jumps down nimbly while firing off a simple arcane spell at the predator. The spell hit a split hairs distance from the creatures paw as intended, scaring it away lumbering into the nearby bushes. Gweyowmi holds out a leaf that has a sweet taste to it and the koala recognizes it but is unsure of this stranger.

Much time passes as the wind gently blows the surrounding terrain, along with the scent of the food gweyowmi is offering to the small wounded koala. She keeps herself low with her ears relaxed and tail calm and visible so the koala knows she means no harm. Eventually it begins to limp towards her and she then gives it more food out of her bag. Gweyowmi noticed earlier the wounded paw and her heart ached at the sight of something defenseless and innocent being threatened. Unlike most of the beings walking Eorzea able to speak and reason, yet still choosing to kill each other for personal gain, animals are viewed as pure and worth effort in Gweyowmi's eyes.

Eventually, after some time passes of continuously camping in the area and feeding the kola it allows Gweyowmi to pick it up and bandage the paw. She ends up taking the tiny animal home with her and allows it to take time to heal, then be set free back into the wild if that is what the koala chooses, or allow it to stay with her.

OOC

I I am not opposed to gore/violent/dark/super natural/ mature themed rp. I am opposed to character death and permanent scarring/injury. 

PLEASE NOTE

My in-character interactions with your character do not necessarily reflect my view of you outside of the game. If my character becomes involved with yours romantically, that does not mean that I reciprocate that interest outside of FFXIV. I have my own life. This is role playing, a fictional character intended to explore and develop same as a character in a book. On the same note, if my character dislikes yours, that does not mean I hold any animosity towards you outside of RP. 90% I don't. If you cannot respect these limits, I will attempt to reconcile the issue with you, but I may end up blacklisting you if it becomes a recurring issue.

[sandcrowned]

why i think ozymandias and gilgamesh would get along

is this a meta??? a shitpost?? me just fucking rambling? we don't know. no one really knows. no one ever asks anymore. i don't know how i am. i am not okay maybe but i'm going to start about my two favorite servants! ramesses ii or better known in fate as ozymandias, and our dear king of heroes gilgamesh. we're going to leave aesthetics aside because it's obvious that these two asshats are in love with the color gold and with a very good reason. im also gonna leave their noble phantasms out because while gate of babylon and ramesseum tentyris are both representations of their glory in life, the same could be said with other servants.

prideful, arrogant, powerful... what have you. these two have a lot in common but i think it runs deeper than that or maybe it's just me tryna be deep but i will start with their identity. ozymandias is a pharaoh who believed himself as someone rivaling even the gods. that he stands alongside them. that he can be considered as one because of his reputation, and one not entirely undeserved. then there's gilgamesh, someone who is 2/3 a god. he's a demigod, who also thought of himself highly, and that's because he had every right to be. he demonstrated that enough to his people, so much that it troubled even the gods. so what do they have in common in regards to this? in spite of their prowess and domineering personality, what they were blind to initially is that they could still be considered human. suddenly that human part was something they forced themselves to feign as they went on with life.

both their stories revolved around them being challenged to the point wherein they realized their own mortality. ramesses was acknowledged as the greatest pharaoh to ever exist, in some cases it's exaggerated, but there's no denying that he was certainly the most well known. he was such a great architect, a good ruler to the point it scared even his own people at times. but what else? even as he announces himself as equal with his gods in his time alive, he lamented the fact that he was born into a mortal body. he was insecure because he was made aware of his limited time on the world. he had forgotten that humans become weak over time, and that made him hate himself so much, so much that even as a servant, he still laments that he was not born into a god’s body. then we have gilgamesh, who also realized this as he continued on his days as king of uruk. the fact that reminded him of his own limitations as someone who was not fully a god was the death of his own friend. seeing enkidu's decaying corpse with maggots made him hurl and afraid that he would also end up like that-- a sand in the air, leaving nothing but only his legacy, which will someday perish and forgotten.

these two were so detached to other people that the only people who could claim to know them in full are so little. they've invested their trust to only one person because they didn't think anyone else was worthy of their company in that aspect. ozy had moses. gilgamesh had enkidu. when that person left their life, they were suddenly a different being. moses leaving egypt perpetuated ozy's cultural mindset about being a pharaoh, about what it meant to be egypt's king. meanwhile enkidu dying made gilgamesh seek out a way to escape his only weakness-- and that was his capacity to die. in this regard, ozy is certainly the luckier one. aside from moses, he also had nefertari. he had a loving family to cling onto when there was no 'moses' to fill the gaps of loneliness that stayed with him. gilgamesh had no one. he sought out the potion of immortality alone. had suffered in his journey. while he did gain it in the end, it hadn't been easy even to someone like him who was undeniably monstrously strong. gilgamesh for the first time in his life was made to realize what a challenge meant. him succeeding in his expedition was the true proof of his solid want to become immortal. only for what? only for a snake to steal it in the end.

but the good part about gilgamesh being unable to drink the potion of immortality is that, he had been given the chance to look back at uruk with such ardor. that this is the uruk he ruled. the uruk he had created. the people who adored him and acknowledged him as their king. that suddenly immortality became less tempting, and he had come to terms with his humanity and had learned to move forward without enkidu in his mind. he clung to the memory of his friend from time to time, but it became a healthy kind of reminiscing. he smiled, grew old, became the king enkidu would have been proud of and died content.

then you compare this to ozy, who after the plagues had nothing to him. not his most beloved wife. not his first born. not even his brother who left yet again and never returned. moses died even without reaching the promised land. in spite of that, moses believed he had taken the right path. meanwhile ozy could clung to nothing but his faith and the lingering memories of the people he had lost. not his just his family, but the people of egypt who had to suffer because of his pride and how the hebrew god strengthened his heart so he would not relent until all the plagues were unleashed. he remained as the pharaoh and in his rule egypt regained its footing, but it was never the same egypt that he was proud of. it was just the egypt wherein he lived, and where his people and family died. there was nothing he could do to prevent his own mortality. he was forced to come to terms with it by suffering in loneliness. but you know what’s good? ozy finally understanding moses’ feelings, and that he was ignorant of other people’s lives because he basked in nothing but privilege his entire life.

what makes this so different yet so endearing is the fact that conflict with gilgamesh and enkidu happened at the beginning. enkidu wishing to teach this arrogant asshat a lesson to treat his people better. and what? it ended up well. gilgamesh became the king his people was proud to serve just because this clay hairy creature who somewhat looks like one of his temple harlots managed to give him a fight he could neither win or lose. compare this to ozy and moses wherein the conflict happened at the end. they were on good terms in the beginning, their relationship being full of nothing but love, but ended in drastic measures and given an ending that is far from happy and acceptable at that.

it's also important to note that both ozy and gil were treated like they were strange because of their extraordinary greatness. enkidu realized that gilgamesh was someone lonely because no one could really handle him. no one could really rival him. moses, too, realized this with ozy because he was going to become a pharaoh, and pharaohs were seen as rulers who had to make inhuman decisions for the greater good. that certain isolating nature that ozy and gil have, could only be broken by moses and enkidu respectively, so losing that person, the person whom they've entrusted their smiles, sadness and wishes towards, brought so huge of an impact that both of them had been changed forever, and there was nothing that could return them to how they were before-- gilgamesh only improved, then ozy only became worse.

like they're both arrogant scumbags because they know. THEY KNOW THEY'RE SO GREAT. THEY KNOW THEY'RE SO AWESOME. THEY KNOW THEY'RE SO INCOMPARABLE TO THE REST. even then, they have hearts. they can love people and devote themselves to others given the right approach. moses had always approached ozy with care and love, because his father never really treated him like a son. enkidu was never afraid to call out gil with his shit, and that somehow helped gilgamesh because no one was brave enough to point out his flaws-- to understand him beyond what he chooses to show to others. not to mention??? they’re both??? parent loving boys. ozy respected his parents. gil respected his parents. in spite of their self-awareness when it came to their disposition, they have never once forgotten their roots.

these two would get along because of their oh so similar circumstances in life, and would also come to share the same mindset. but the difference that sticks with me the most is how gilgamesh entirely separated himself with the gods. and then you have ozy, the very religious pharaoh who feels a deep spiritual connection to his patrons. i think it would be interesting if the two could talk about their beliefs and realize their differences on their own. but also?? talk about how proud they are of the kingdom they’ve led??? how important moses and enkidu are to them??? like??? i want this. i want this so much typemoon.

and idk i just love them

[cococrazies]

Lovestruck Series Review: Starship Promise (Season 1)

Personal playing order: Orion - Jaxon - Antares - Nova - Atlas

Warning! Minor spoilers ahead for Antares’s/Nova’s/Atlas’s routes, as well as CGs under the cut.

Orion: I’m torn on this one. I really enjoyed the story -- a lot more than I thought I would, given my lack of enthusiasm for the series concept -- and Orion himself. (If anyone ever wanted Shang from Mulan but in outer space, this is it.) The writing also had a very natural cadence and flow; it pulled me in easily, never getting too heavy-handed with sudden plot twists and cliffhangers... except for one instance, but more on that below.

And the MC! She was a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t been too impressed by her in the first-ep sneak peeks we get in each route, but she’s really cute -- she can be a bit of a space cadet at times (sorry, bad pun intended), but she isn’t dumb. Furthermore, she really develops over the course of the route, which is impressive given everything else stuffed into these mere 12 episodes.

So now to the things I didn’t like about this route: for one, the romantic development. It seemed really sudden and almost shoehorned-in as a result of the route length, which was jarring given how well-paced everything else had been up to that point. 

Also, the Antares plot twist; it felt cliché and gimmicky, especially since I could see it coming from a mile away. I think I would’ve preferred for it to be a Season 2 reveal, or at least presented to us right from the start -- as it was, it just seemed like it was there for the “shock factor” + to forcibly give us a reason to care about the antagonist if we didn’t already. But since this was a pilot season, I guess I can understand how they wanted to tease at an intriguing backstory as early as possible to get players invested.

Overall, they still did succeed with the latter, because now I’m pretty curious about where they’re going with this. And also because I need more Orion/MC in my life; rushed or not, those two are simply way too cute.

Jaxon: Whoa, this story was jam-packed with action scenes and chemistry between the OTP. The pace is hella fast, but you never get the sense that we’re skipping past important details; the writing makes the most of every episode it has got. Not a single scene is wasted or filler-like.

Jaxon himself is a bit of a harder sell. His gargantuan ego, jokester personality, and YOLO take on everything make him one of those characters that you either love or hate -- although for me, he fell somewhere near the middle of the spectrum. I like his concept and find him a refreshing addition to Lovestruck’s character lineup, but he’s not really my type as far as romance goes; and sometimes he toes the line for being near annoying.

(The fact that I constantly seemed to make the wrong choices -- at least judging by the sheer amount of weird looks or lukewarm responses he gave me after 90% of my choices -- didn’t help. Heads-up: don’t try to play it cool. This MC really, really can’t do cool. I had several near-death experiences from sheer secondhand embarrassment while playing this route.)

That aside, he makes a surprisingly good team with MC. Except from some cringey non-heart options (which were brutal this route, by the way), they naturally eased into working as a combo. I like how they both are able to pull each other out of their respective emotional ruts, as well as complement the other’s shortcomings. Jaxon’s character turnaround near the end felt a little sudden, but I like the teased insight on his past, and am looking forward to learn more about it.

Antares: Oh, MC. Trust me, I of all people totally understand crushing on the hot, mysterious, and possibly noble anti-hero holding you captive for unknown reasons, but even so. Being constantly unable to focus on anything but your attration to him -- and using it as a basis for your foundation to trust him almost straight away despite how he works for the Big Bad, and is literally using you as a tool(-fixer) for whatever evil purposes the Empire has in mind for the galaxy -- is like a whole new level of uncool.

(Also, how is a sheltered colony girl’s reaction to seeing a military leader telling his troops not to leave a single ship standing “swoon, he’s so charismatic” instead of “holy shit, he kills people”? Priorities, MC.)

Beyond that, Antares’s route was very intriguing to me. Out of Lovestruck’s villain routes so far this is the one that has done the least to paint the love interest as less of an antagonist, or the side he sympathizes with as more morally grey. I also appreciated seeing another side of Antares himself that actually knows the definition of the word chill  isn’t perpetually dressed in bunny-ear mecha armor  that’s not completely absorbed by his thirst for vengeance against his brother.

Similar to Orion’s route, the romantic development also dropped on us out of the blue here... but strangely, I didn’t mind. In a way, it seemed to make sense for Antares’s emotionally dysfunctional personality (to the point that it gave me Chance S1 in GiL flashbacks). I think I almost preferred this to him doing a sudden 180 and going all mushy on MC when any potential romantic build-up outside of premium choices has been minimal. I’m holding my thumbs now for a gradual turnaround -- much like Chance got -- in his future seasons.

Nova: I keep going back and forth re: how I feel about this route. To again start with the positive -- I’d been worried that Nova would be a Space Medusa 2.0, so I was pleasantly surprised to find that she wasn’t. For all the kuu in her kuudere demeanor, Nova still spends a fair amount of the route bonding with MC through actual conversation, and unlike Orion’s/Antares’s routes this season the romance didn’t even seem that rushed. Furthermore, I was intrigued by Nova’s backstory (not to mention that she’s hot as hell).

But to be entirely honest, this story is also the most formulaic, “typical otome”-esque route I’ve read so far in Lovestruck -- not so much in concept as in execution. It reminds me of one of those Voltage JP fantasy routes where we spend the first 1/3 of the route with semi-slice-of-life scenes interspersed with action, the middle 1/3 of this route discovering the LI’s angsty past and them distancing themselves to protect MC, and the final 1/3 with MC dissolving into hysterics/apocalyptic depression, stupidly running after LI alone, and declaring their undying love for them after having known them for a couple of days in the middle of a life-or-death situation.

Since I do play Voltage JP games I’m not saying it’s necessarily a terrible thing, just... jarring. I might seem like I’m awfully hard on Lovestruck’s writing a lot of the time, but that’s because I have high expectations of it. In a sea of near-identical mobile otome clones Lovestruck stands out with a more Westernized and creative take on standard otome tropes, hence often avoiding common pitfalls associated with the genre. The writing in general is a cut above what I expect from mobile games as well, hence all my criticisms; I don’t balk (as much) at LIs doing sudden 180s or MCs being stupid in a Solmare game, but I do with Lovestruck because I know -- and have seen firsthand -- that they can do better.

So this route was confusing to me. Because, if I were to go for my usual standard from what I would expect run-of-the-mill Voltage JP route, for example, or a Shall We Date? one -- then I’d think it’s fine. Or even good. But for Lovestruck? I don’t know. I wouldn’t say it’s bad, just not... good. (The GiL-esque Pokémon-battle narration for action scenes -- yes, this is my official pet peeve now -- didn’t help.)

With all that said though, I didn’t dislike Nova’s route. (Hence the confusion.) And definitely not Nova herself. I just don’t really know how I feel about its writing direction, and how it measures against my expectations of a Lovestruck route.

Atlas: I fell head over heels for this route. Seriously, this was Astraeus-in-season-3-of-AFK level instant love, except without the devastating angst and with a decent helping of fluffy feels on top. Not that it was all fluff -- we had our share of prospective angst here too, if less literally earth-shattering. And hell of a lot of action, character development, and tons of other goodies tightly stuffed in a 12-episode-package of awesome.

Similar to my review for Astraeus, I don’t even know where to begin talking about this route’s good points. The prose, for one -- there were just so many beautifully worded narrative transitions, and the dialogue didn’t lose out in that aspect, either. The sass, sarcasm, and the humor were well-timed, but didn’t go overboard/seem out of character for MC or the rest of the cast.

Then there’s Atlas himself. Breaking down tsunderes is one of my favorite otome pastimes, and doing exactly that to our resident grouchy pilot was no different. First of all, I love that he maintains a healthy balance between insults that are obviously all bark and no bite, and genuinely worded criticism that should logically be voiced. In fact, there’s so little unnecessary tsun here that he could almost pass for a kuudere. 

Regardless of whatever mold he’d better fit into, finally crumbling down that cranky demeanor of his and seeing him dere was a sweet, sweet reward. (I actually caved and went premium twice despite my agonizing wallet because I couldn’t resist seeing more of it.)

Or heck, even the platonic moments building up to that were great. Because the romance with Atlas was really well-paced; I love how we went from almost-hate (my favorite trope!) to begrudging respect, then to friendly equals/teammates, and finally something more -- all the while there was obvious chemistry between him and MC interlacing every interaction. I was kind of worried whether we’d get some last-minute romantic confession slapped on near the end, but thankfully we got a development that, for all its unrealistic corniness, still had me squealing. Especially with that cliffhanger; dammit, how am I even supposed to emotionally last until I get to his second season?

The main plot was really interesting, too -- probably my favorite premise out of the ones we’ve been offered so far. Even though it starts out similarly with MC on the run, I like how 1) we see the Union as evil right from the bat, avoiding having another MC-gets-out-of-her-naïve-colony-girl-mindset mini-arc; 2) rather than being perpetrated for some valuable information/artifact that the Starship crew might benefit from, MC is in a situation where they actually have no reason to keep her around, adding more tension to the intro; and 3) how all of this tied into Atlas’s own personal character arc. (Not that I minded how the other premises played out, it just made for a fresh change of pace.)

To wrap this gigantic word-vomit ramble up, I’d just like to conclude by gushing one last time how fantastic this route is -- I’d warmly recommend it to anyone interested in giving Starship a chance, because after this, the series personally had me hook, line, and sinker.

Final character ranking: Atlas > Orion > Jaxon > Antares > Nova

....This got a little longer than I intended it to be, oops. Kudos to anyone who has made it to the end of this season review. (I’ll try to be a little more concise in my next one, i.e. GiL S7.)  You can follow my tag #coco reviews lovestruck for more reviews of Lovestruck games, or check out the ones I’ve done so far on this list.

[babilun]

11. ozymandias

I will tag this to @ardenssolis as Shi is the only active Ozy I know. 

At first glance, one would think that Ozymandias and Gilgamesh are just the same type of characters with no difference with one another. In a way, it is not wrong but it is also not the correct answer that people should conclude to. Gilgamesh and Ozymandias are similar but they are vastly different from one another in certain aspects. 

How are they similar? It’s easy to point out. A simple outlook is that they are loud and have big egos that is bigger than their heads and both are able to come up with these dumb ideas that they believe are good but in reality is just so dumb. However, if one looks deeper, both Gilgamesh and Ozymandias are actual more similar with their backgrounds. Gilgamesh has Enkidu and Ozymandias has Moses, both figures were their own brothers and important person in their entire life and also that brotherly figure left the Kings. 

When Enkidu died, Gilgamesh naturally mourned but he found closure with his friend’s death and move on. Ozymandias on the other hand, he let his brother go but at the same time could not find his own closure. I spoke to Shi about this topic since I remember when Ozymandias got defeated in Prototype Fragments, he described the light as a miracle that he saw from Moses, just vaguely hinting that even though he said he let his other brother go, he was not content with what happened. ( BUT I’M HERE TO TALK ABOUT GIL AND NOT BECOME THE OZY WHISPER THAT I AM SO MOVING ON )

I won’t deny that their personalities are very similar but they completely different. For both Gilgamesh and Ozymandias, because their mentality are similar, they are able to get along. They understand each other’s thoughts and have similar tastes. They honestly could make a great pair of brothers in all honesty. HOWEVER, their mindset is not completely in sync with one another. Gilgamesh has different values than Ozymandias, in which causes the Pharaoh to not understand Gilgamesh at times mostly because Gilgamesh’s logic does not make sense to Ozymandias no matter how much he tries to understand it. 

Gilgamesh chose to be alone. To watch over humanity alone. To love and hate humanity by himself. That is something that Ozymandias could probably never do for himself, as he is human to his very core. Humans strives for interactions and cannot live without each other. Ozymandias is more willing to accept people by his side whereas Gilgamesh won’t no matter how much he interacts with others. 

However despite all of this, Gilgamesh and Ozymandias are a rare pair that would instantly click with one another without much thought. Normally they would refuse to accept any other Kings other than themselves but they are fine with each other. Respect? Who knows. 

SLKJWEOIAEOWAOI man I just have so much to say but also so little to say? I felt like I managed to bring out the big points I have for both Gil and Ozy. Hopefully I made sense, I just sort of rambled my way through. Both Gil and Ozy would never admit this to each other’s faces but they are very good friends, they just won’t say it. A long time ago, when Prototype Fragments just came out, my friend, Reule, picked up Ozymandias when he was still in development and I was roleplaying Gilgamesh and I just knew that they would get along. 

And it made me really happy to see that, even though I had this slight fear that both Gilgamesh and Ozymandias might not get along because they are similar, I’m glad Nasu and Hikaru proved me wrong. Ozy and Gil’s presence with one another is very relaxing in a way, I can tell that they don’t need to put up such an act and can simply act like....well I guess, boys in their youth? 

Do I ship Gil/Ozy? Eeehhh, aesthetically, they are very pleasing to look at. Both Gil and Ozy are beautiful and what more can I get than have two beautiful Kings be together in a single picture. However, if you ask me about romance, the answer is no. I don’t see both of them wanting to fall in love, especially with each other. They respect each other a little much to really cross that line and I don’t believe that their own feelings for each other would ever become love. Lust, sure, love, not a chance. But they are 100% ok with flirting with each and sleeping with one another because you know, kings. 

So one last final meme to describe everything up.

[raintekla]

Rain Tekla: Zeyo Atoel what was

The Quicksand.  

How many hundreds or thousands of people can come and gone through those tavern doors? The viera whipped her Moogle mask right off her face and onto the top of her hair as a waiter brought her a delicious soup. Deep purple eyes widened as she brought the bowl up to her lips, giving a small blow, before sipping without need of a spoon. Slurp. Ahh.   How many weeks had it been since she had left her Tekla sisters’ side? A few moons mayhap? Her hand went up to run through short ebony hair. For a fleeting moment something spontaneous inside her poked and prodded at her, suggesting she needed to change something. Her hair, her mask, her outfit, her identity for the twentieth time? Alchemical hair growth elixirs weren’t exactly cheap, but the stylist could certainly be worth the gil, right? Some suns she wanted to look like a mob boss. Someone in charge who smoked thick cigars and barked orders with a funny hat. Other times, she wanted to be the warrior she was back in her village. This week she was Urkel Grue, a mysterious gilionaire widow with a terrible secret, oo lala! Would this haircut last her or would she change her mind in a week? Hair, clothes, armor, weapons, decoration, this bright new world had a million things to peak her interest, so who could blame anyone for never sticking with one style for too long?

  Being silly was a huge part of her identity, but it was also her biggest defense mechanism. Everyone underestimated her, or felt sympathy for her. Such a dull silly girl, talking to nutkin and making terrible jokes. It let Rain slip right past their defenses, studying people. If only they knew what she was really capable of, who she really was.

Well, at least the soup was good here. The soup -and- the music! In the corner of the room, a male miqo’te sang a sweet old crooner’s song, “Birds flying high, you know how I feel. Sun in the sky, you know how I feel…”

  Rain’s eyes shimmered, the tavern lights illuminating the tears that had immediately sprung. As the cold buried into her chest, she swallowed and reflexively reached for her mask, sliding it back on. Usually she wore the moogle to be off putting and silly, but there was moments like this when it truly did act as a disguise. As the buzz of the barflies faded, the world began to dull and Rain muttered aloud her only thought. 

“How did that song get here?”

  Leaving her soup warm and half empty, Rain fled from the Quicksand, walking at a brisk pace towards the emptiest alleyway she could find. Ul’dah was so packed with life that it was often difficult to get a moment to yourself.

  Her boots clicking to the rhythm of a song that couldn’t have been more than a whisper by now, Rain managed to find a small nook. Turning her back to the warm stone wall, she slid down until she was sitting on the ground. In her mind the music was still going strong, and as she pulled her knees to her chest, she remembered that cute little viera boy’s face, his tone much much higher as he sang that very same song some epochs ago.

“Reeds driftin’ on by, you know how I feel. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new sun, it’s a new life… for me ...”

  A small viera girl with dark skin and even darker hair began to clap excitedly. “Wow, what a great song, sis!” Li’l Rain, then known as Zeyo, had a wide grin, being the coolest kid in Atoel in her own mind. That wasn’t a traditional greeting necessarily, but many referred to their kindred as ‘sister’.

Opposite of young Zeyo, the singing viera child had wrinkled their nose, “I am not a sis.”

Zeyo waved a hand dismissively, “Sis-TER, whatever. Us people in the ‘know’ say sis, and clearly, you aren’t.” It was playful banter, accompanied by a teasing smirk.

“No, I mean that I’m a boy.”

  Zeyo’s jaw dropped. A boy! She knew there were boys in the village, of course. She had just never met any of them. There were two, supposedly. Atoel wasn’t quite so small that everybody knew one another, yet it wasn’t large enough to hold a tonze of diversity. This kid sounded like a girl, and dressed and acted like a girl too so far as Zeyo had been concerned. Then again, she wasn’t really sure what all a boy was supposed to look or act like. The Wood Wardens rarely returned home, and the only men she had seen came from portraits. Curious, she reached out and poked the boy’s little upturned nose, “Are you sure?”

As her hand was swatted away, the boy gave a cheeky reply, “No, I’m not Sure. I’m Rhom.”

“Well, Rhom, I’m Zeyo. What kind of song was that?”

“Oh, you liked that, huh? It’s one my mom sings all the time, it’s pretty old.”

“You should sing it again.”

From that sun on they had become inseparable. Best friends forever, two peas in a pod, all that.

-

  Each village in the jungle had their own Green Word, their own laws and customs. Though many were similar, certainly all were different in either minor or even major ways. In Atoel the children were generally raised by the community at large. Unlike many western civilizations, youths weren’t very numerous. In their matriarchal society the men, who were scarcely numbered as it were, were sent to protect the jungle and thus keep the village hidden. In a people who could live up to hundreds of summers, procreating to circulate life wasn’t a very high priority. In that equation, a village might be lucky to have ten children at the same time, and while most did their part to educate the young, someone had to take on certain educational responsibilities.

  For Zeyo and Rhom, that someone was Crjn. A massive brute of a woman, Crjn was a salty no-nonsense educator. Though she might permit herself a smile here or there, Zeyo never once witnessed the woman laugh. Crjn picked kids up starting around six summers old, specializing in the physical aspects of education with the enthusiasm of a Drill Sergeant. It was a dangerous world out there, and everyone in Atoel needed to have intimate knowledge with a variety of weaponry and hunting techniques.

  Above all others, Crjn was Zeyo’s favorite teacher, and likewise, Zeyo had become the ‘favorite’ student. She could pick up any of the wooden training weapons and use them masterfully. She had strength, speed, and accuracy, everything that mattered to a warrior. When it came to sparring or any physical competition, she was undefeated. In team exercises, everyone wanted Zeyo on their team. 

  Where Zeyo fell behind were lessons in philosophy, arithmetic, and literature. Incidentally the former and latter two subjects would become much more important to her as an adult. However, as a child she hated them. Well, hated the ‘official’ philosophy lessons perhaps. Some suns, however, Rhom was as much a teacher to her as he was a friend. Through him she learned a deep love and respect for people and life. It wasn’t as if Atoel was ever disrespectful of nature, but Rhom truly truly cared for life. 

  Once when they were around seven, Zeyo had chased after a bright blue butterfly, Rhom behind her laughing. They had wandered just outside the village, something they did often ever since lessons with Crjn started up a summer prior. Rhom was a pacifist by nature, he couldn’t stand hurting people. Knowing how hard the lessons were on him, and just how uplifting the natural world was, Zeyo was constantly taking him on little adventures like this. As they followed the fluttery little insect, Zeyo gasped as it landed in a spider’s web in an attempt to get away from the bunny girl trying to catch it.

“Oh no!”

  As it struggled to free itself, the vibrations along the web awakened the spider that had been lurking in the shadows of foliage. Fearing for the butterfly’s life, Zeyo gripped her little walking stick like a baseball bat, and squashed the arachnid against the tree, her aim true as ever.

And that’s when Rhom broke down in tears. “Zeyo, why would you do that!?”

Zeyo turned around with her bright purple eyes locking onto her best friend, who was now slumped down onto his knees, crying. “Wha? No, no, it’s okay, I got the bad spider, see?”

Broken up, Rhom’s chest heaved, “You didn’t have to kill it. It had a life, Zeyo and now it’s gone, you’ve taken it. Don’t you know anything stupid?”

  Her instinct was to reach out and shove him, but she fought it. He was upset, clearly. If she let the spider live, might it not have starved to death anyways? Besides, it was -just- a spider. Instead of asking her questions, she simply walked over and hugged her friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Promise me. We only kill what we need, when we have to, that’s what mother says. Even then, it should be with respect and love. The spider could have lived.”

And as he cried into her, his pain became hers. It was a lesson she would carry with her always, though not a rule she would always follow.

Summers passed and the two grew closer and closer, but they wouldn’t stay kids for long.

  One sun, when the pair were around twelve summers old, Rhom had went missing. Zeyo hadn’t thought anything about it during her lessons. He had missed out before due to illness, she would just have to visit him at his home after. Fortunately for her, it was a sparring session, and so the sun seemed to pass faster. Mean stiff wonderful Lady Crjn had given them quite the workout, and when the class was over, she asked for Zeyo to stay behind.

“Rhom didn’t show up for class today.”

Zeyo just kind of nodded her head, always respectfully quiet in Crjn’s presence.

“Do you know where he is?”

Frowning, she shook her head, “No ma’am. I thought he was sick.”

Crjn stared down at the young girl, her eyes squinting into brown beady little things. “He best hope I don’t find him before his mother does.”

  And that was all that needed to be said, so far as Crjn was concerned. The veteran fighter and educator turned her back to her pupil, a slight smirk on her face.  Children needed a regular healthy dose of fear to keep in line. Little Rhom, the worst student Crjn had ever taught, would not miss the next sun’s lesson. She was confident that Zeyo would make sure of that.

  And she was right, naturally. As soon as Zeyo was dismissed she ran to find Rhom. Checking the first dozen ‘usual’ spots, she felt a growing gnaw in her stomach as each location showed no sign of the boy. Eventually she moved onto irregular play places, and eventually took a chance and headed outside the village proper.

  She found him in the exact spot she had killed that spider five summers before. This time it was Rhom who was hidden in the brush. Ignoring the churning of her stomach, Zeyo tried to keep up her friendly playful attitude, “Hey Rhom, been lookin’ all over for you. I guess you’re hiding out from Old Crjn, huh? You know she’s gonna give you another thrashing when you get back, right?” Several times their educator had tried to ‘beat some sense’ into Rhom. Never had it worked.

The boy kept his face tucked into his knees, pulling at his shins as he shrank into himself. “Go away.”

  Zeyo’s stomach knotted even tighter. Something was going on. Even when they fought he had never told her to simply get lost. For a moment she just stood there, staring down at him, chewing on her lower lip. She wasn’t sure what to do or say. Should she poke at him more, try to make him smile? She could certainly make a silly face or try out a silly voice. That always cheered him up. Or perhaps should she take offense? Should she just beat it like he asked? Instead she elected to just stand there, frowning and saying nothing. Averting her eyes from her downtrodden friend, she looked around the area, suddenly ‘fascinated’ with the leaves of the trees. It was an especially hot sun and already her skin had a slight glistening of sweat. Birds were chirping, Opo opos were hooting and hollering in the distance, and gnats were buzzing about in close proximity. Ugh. Zeyo swatted at the tiny cloud of bugs until they left her alone.

“Sorry.” His voice was quieter, still clearly upset, “I just.. They’ll be here tomorrow, you know.”

  They? Zeyo couldn’t help but grin. The Wardens, the protectors, guardians of the jungle. Fathers, mentors, warriors. She had never seen one before, and the thought filled her with a bubbling anticipation. This was gonna be great!

“I’m leaving. Just like my sister did. Maybe I’ll even find her.”

  Zeyo frowned. Rhom’s sister had left the village before he had even been born, maybe thirty summers ago or so? Many more had left since that time. It wasn’t something celebrated within Atoel, or anywhere that she knew of. People wanted to venture out into the great unknown, abandoning everything they knew and loved just for a shot at what? Exploration? And of course, once you left the village, you were never welcomed back. You were an outsider, as prone to being struck through the heart via arrow as any other threat would. Why would Rhom want that for himself, to be away from her, Zeyo, who needed him here? Again she swallowed her instincts, wanting nothing more than to cry out, ‘But we’re best friends!’. Instead she just sat down next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder.

“Zeyo, you could come with me. We could leave together!”

  She frowned, “You know I can’t do that. Maybe in a few summers, after I pass the test..” The Test. Rhom didn’t need to ask which one, no child would. It was, in Atoel anyroad, when a girl became a woman. Usually a girl took it around twenty summers old, some as young as fifteen. They would fight Crjn, using any single weapon they wanted. They didn’t necessarily have to win to pass, but it was likely the hardest trial they would ever have to overcome. Failure meant humiliation, a mark on them for the rest of their lives. They could try again after a summer, sure, but they would forever be remembered for their impatience and ineptitude. However, this wasn’t necessarily true for everyone in the village. There were many who never passed their test, they simply weren’t fighters. They would prove themselves in other ways down the line, but there was always a reverence saved for those who excelled.

“I’m not going to make it, Zeyo. I don’t wanna go. I hate this, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

  He looked up at her for the first time that sun, eyes red and swollen. He was scared for his life in a very literal sense. He was a boy, and the men returning to the village meant that he would be taken out for his own ‘test’. He would learn from a Warden. Learn to be a better hunter, learn to live alone, and most importantly, learn to kill. Looking at him, understanding dawning on her, Zeyo gritted her teeth and hugged him close. No, he wouldn’t make it. Not little pacifist Rhom who wouldn’t hurt a butterfly.. Nor a spider. 

“We could run away together and.. You know, that way we could still be together.”

  That was another thing she hadn’t put too much emphasis on. Tomorrow her best friend would be gone, likely removed from her for longer than they had known one another. Culturally she had become more than a little desensitized to the situation, certainly. The distance betwixt two bodies did not indicate the distance twixt two souls. It was possible to love someone for a hundred summers, let live malms apart and have only met a dozen times. Regardless, that growing pit of despair in her stomach bit at her, her selfishness taking over. No, she would not lose him.

“Zeyo?”

  Her own eyes were watering as he turned to face her. Putting on a brave smile, she stroked his cheek, “They’ll never take you away from me, Rhom, I promise. It will be okay, -you- will be okay. You’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit.”

  As he leaned forward, their foreheads touched, the warmth of the jungle nothing compared to the burning in their cheeks. Her throat closed, butterflies, as it always came down to butterflies somehow, swarmed within her gut. Then she ventured forward and touched her lips to his, for the first and hopefully not last time. He returned the gesture, his lips parting awkwardly. Neither of them knew how to do this, and while it wasn’t quite what either expected, neither cared. They awkwardly pulled back, shuffling, Zeyo brushing the bangs from her eyes.

Rhom sighed, his eyes somehow seeming twice their usual size, shimmering as he stared at her. “Okay.”

And that was all either of them said as they just hugged one another, cuddled together in the brushes, hidden in the jungle away from prying eyes.

[cyborgcyborgcyborg]

Gil Blank and Thomas Ruff Discuss ‘Portraits’ (2004)

Gil Blank with Thomas Ruff, originally published in Influence Magazine, Issue 2, 2004

*

Gil Blank: Many of the portraits you’ve made are of people whom you know personally, but whom most viewers would not. You have a relationship to the subjects, but it would seem those relationships are totally neutralized in the photographs, by their uniform structure and plain, premeditated approach. Was the relative anonymity of the subjects a central part of the process? Did the individual relationships, as manifestations of your own individual knowledge of each person, ever enter into the process? Were the relationships totally incidental, or was the fact that you knew each person a specifically complicating fact that you wanted to see if you could address, avoid, or get around in the series?

Thomas Ruff: When I started with the portraits, it was with an awareness that we were living at the end of the twentieth century, in an industrialized Western country. We weren’t living by candlelight in caves anymore. We were in surroundings where everything was brightly illuminated—even our parking garages. Surveillance cameras were everywhere, and you were being watched all the time. When I started making the portraits in 1981, my friends and I were very curious about what might happen in 1984, Orwell’s year. Would his ideas come to fruition?

They already partly had, because in Germany there were the events surrounding the Red Army Faction, a terrorist group founded by Andreas Baader, Gudrun Ensslin, and others. They plotted—and in some cases carried out—the assassinations of politicians and industry leaders, were captured, and then died under suspicious circumstances while in government custody. So the police were very nervous; there were a lot of controls placed on daily life, and we were often required to produce our passports for inspection.

My idea for the portraits was to use a very even light in combination with a large-format camera, so that you could see everything about the sitter’s face. I didn’t want to hide anything. Yet I also didn’t want the people I portrayed to show any emotion. I told them to look into the camera with self-confidence, but likewise, that they should be conscious of the fact that they were being photographed, that they were looking into a camera.

I wanted to do a kind of official portrait of my generation. I wanted the photographs to look like those in passports, but without any other information, such as the subject’s address, religion, profession, or prior convictions. I didn’t want the police/viewer to get any information about us. They shouldn’t be able to know what we felt at that moment, whether we were happy or sad.

GB: So in a sense they’re “non-portraits”—they work directly against the most commonly valued aspect of the genre, that it captures some unspoken essence of the person, or more to the point, reveals a hidden truth. You seem to be saying that you actually made the portraits for the opposite reason: as stone walls, as a way of showing everything in order to reveal absolutely nothing. You extend this notion in a vast array of your other series, exploding the idea of original perception. Do you not retain any hope in photography as a way of understanding personal experience?

TR: I think it depends on the intention of the sitter, on how much information he or she allows to be shown. I don’t think that my sitters build stone walls, but rather that they say to the viewer, “You can come this close, but no further.” Maybe my portraits are anachronistic because even though they show every detail of the skin, clothes, and hair of the sitter, they still don’t try to show any of his or her feelings.

But to your question: Do you not retain any hope in photography as a way of understanding personal experience? What do you think about the portraits Richard Avedon did In the American West, where he asked workers, employers and housewives to stand in front of a white background? They’re also stone walls, except that they’re wearing their work clothes, or have little accessories to link them to their lived life. Does that information help very much, or isn’t it just a cliché in the August Sander mold?

GB: That’s precisely my point and the challenge: every portrait maker has to face down the soggy temptations handed to us by photographers like Sander and Edward Curtis, the excited claims of being able to categorize and familiarize the entire world through images. Your mention of Avedon emphasizes that much of portraiture has been incapable of escaping Curtis’ ghost. Avedon and Diane Arbus are to my mind arch perpetuators of his sentimental tradition. Theirs is a glib, New York version of sentimentality, one that thrills itself with the hysterical belief in antagonism and grit as truth, but that’s sentimentality all the same. Provocative as their pictures may seem to be at first, people love them—perhaps counterintuitively—for that titillating myopia, because they corroborate, rather than challenge, our baser preconceived notions. They never make the more evolved leap to a form that genuinely tries to create a unique means for people to perceive one another.

TR: It’s also probably got something to do with the person in the portrait. In my case, they were people between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-four, and life hadn’t yet left any signs on their faces. They weren’t babies, but they hadn’t had too many bad experiences, either. They were in that state in which everything is still possible. If you make portraits the way Avedon or Arbus did, of people with a long past or a strange life, you can’t escape the Curtis ghost. The same thing happens in photographs of children. All parents want their child’s smile as proof that they’ve done a good job of parenting and that the child is happy.

My portraits look so Appollonian because the sitters provide a perfect surface onto which the viewer can project anything, bad and good experiences alike. They’re neutral and friendly, like Buddhas. They’re vessels you can fill with all of your wishes and desires.

GB: But that openness can double as a form of visual opacity and blockage, and highlights the enduring portrait conundrum. We’re faced with both the fundamental urge to understand our experiences, as well as all of the glaring historical examples of portraits that sentimentalize or exaggerate that struggle. We want to know things, and we also realize that there’s a great barrier in life to that knowledge, but it’s useless to stoop to mourn. Simply giving up is not a viable option. And you haven’t, because you still make pictures. So the question remains, and it’s at the very core of the photographic undertaking, epitomized by portraiture: How do we go about learning anything about experience, about ourselves and each other? Can you be utterly sober, can you speak as plainly as possible in pictures, without submitting to nostalgia or sensationalism or cynical cliché, and still manage some kind of approach within them to—as you put it—our actual, lived lives?

TR: All I can say is that it depends on the codes or clichés you’re trapped by in your own life.

GB: And the stripping away of those social and photographic conventions is usually the preliminary reading people have of your series. The first time I saw your portraits, I was inclined to view them strictly in a formal context, as dry and rigorously effective deconstructions of the portrait genre. But now you’ve thrown me for a turn. By invoking a specific and highly personal period in history, your statements here suggest that there is indeed an additional element of direct experience involved in them, and so that for all their sobriety, for all their absolute refusal of allegory and symbolism and sentiment, they’re nonetheless inextricably bound to real lives.

TR: Oddly enough, the same perception occurs even to me. Sometimes I think the portraits of Petra or Martin or whomever else don’t represent the people themselves, but are merely examples of a type of photographic portraiture. And yet because these people sat in front of the camera when I made the exposure, there’s a lot of real life and the actual person in each photograph. Sometimes I think the photographs are schizophrenic: the real people and their reflections spliced together.

GB: And I think channeling that ambiguity into a directly formal method is one approach to a more viable portraiture, because it mirrors our fractured knowledge, or ignorance, of people as well. Much of your work makes prominent use of those formal concerns, posing questions about the specific nature of photographs and knowledge. You reduce experience into a hermetic, even abstract exercise, crushing the images of what we thought we knew down into a parallel non-reality. There’s a brutal firmness about this, both devastating and liberating.

TR: In a way I wanted to blot out any traces or information about the person in front of the camera. I also wanted to indicate that the viewer is not face-to-face with a real person, but with a photograph of a person. Quite often people at the exhibitions say, “Oh, that’s Heinz, that’s Peter, that’s Petra,” because they’re looking through the photograph, confusing the medium with reality. By blowing the portraits up to a colossal scale, I forced the viewer to realize that he is not standing in front of Heinz, but in front of a photograph of Heinz.

GB: We’ve seen that kind of device before in portraiture, as in the work of Chuck Close. But there are some very important differences, not the least of which is that Close is dealing with paintings, and the immediate realization a viewer has that one is looking at exactly that, at “marks of colored dirt smeared on a flat surface.” Close has even asserted that his particular formalist exercise wouldn’t work the same way with photographs, because there is no moment of cognitive dissonance with photographs the way there is in painting, when the overall pictorial image breaks down and manifests itself as a handmade object. My point, frankly, isn’t just about formalism anyway, because I think a purely formalist reading of your approach is vastly oversimplified, and nowhere is that more sharply demonstrated than in the portraits. To be sure, your systematic approach of creating pictures in exhaustive series, combined with techniques like collage, infrared imaging, appropriation, and digital manipulation, does force us to reconsider what we know of the integrity of photographs. What I’m getting at, though, is that it’s one thing to do this with inanimate objects like buildings or with already existent images as in your appropriation of newspaper photographs, and entirely another thing to implicate the direct involvement of live human beings into this analytical process as subjects.

TR: Life can be hard and artists can be brutal. But I must say that this was my particular investigation of portraiture, and it was made possible by the collaboration of my friends. I think it worked so well because all of my sitters possessed a high degree of visual fluency; they were artists too, and they were capable of dealing with the way I made the portraits of them. I couldn’t have done it with my former school friends who stayed in the small village where I grew up, and are now butchers or bank employees. Those people would have been lost in front of my camera. I didn’t harm any of my friends. They each received a print of their portrait, and if they needed a passport photograph, I even gave them a small one for that as well.

GB: Thus closing the circle with an even more insidiously effective means of exhibition than showing them on a wall. As one of the most traditionally cherished methods of constructing ideas about each other, does portraiture have any remaining use at all, in your opinion? Do you keep family albums, for instance? You have a newborn child. How might you go about recording her image and building her history?

TR: … and so I make a lot of beautiful photographs of my little daughter. The next generation, new problems of representation…

GB: …which is exactly the kind of primary experience I’ve never seen you address in your work. Not only are the images taken directly from everyday life, they are in fact from your own life. I don’t think anyone would exactly call you a diarist, so how do you go about reframing the everyday into a document suitable for public consumption?

TR: I’m a human being with an everyday life, so sometimes I’m happy, and sometimes things upset me. During the everyday, things happen and I react. If it’s a personal matter I respond directly, while other things force me to react with an artistic work. But I don’t stay personal. I’m trying to find a form that’s also interesting for other people to deal with.

GB: Which is perhaps why many of your series deal with archetypes. I’ve never known you to pursue the exquisite single image so valued in traditional photography, but rather you question the accepted iconic form of what we expect an image to be. That frustration of originality is, I think, most poignant and painful in the portraits.

TR: Everybody has his own history of treating images and their iconic forms, but I think a lot of people just aren’t aware of how they can be manipulated by either the government or the advertising industries if they aren’t being attentive. Family photographs are probably inoffensive, but as soon as photographs are made by a professional, you need to be careful, because there is then a vendor/client relationship, and that begins to involve personal/political/commercial interests.

GB: You’ve spoken about that before, when you mentioned that “Most of the photos we come across today aren’t really authentic anymore—they have the authenticity of a manipulated and prearranged reality.” That a photograph may or may not allow access to authenticity is one notion, and a fairly commonplace one, but how is that any different from photography in the past? Are you talking only about the social belief in the truth of photographs as something that we’ve lost, or does the proliferation of photographs mean that the medium itself has lost some kind of ability to communicate?

TR: I think that historically photographs may have been made in a naive and honest way, when photographers believed in the “pencil of nature” and recording what was in front of the camera. But photography quickly came to be used in a prejudicial way, losing its innocence and consequently its ability to communicate.

GB: You seem to be addressing that directly in the Anderes Porträt [“Other Portraits”] series. How were those pictures generated, and what was the motivation behind them?

TR: I’d been told that my portraits were anti-individual, anti-personal, and so on, because they only showed the sitter’s face and nothing more. But I’d thought my process was reflective of real personality, that it illustrated how an individuum is unique and doesn’t exist a second time, except perhaps in twins.

GB: An idea that you highlighted by doubling your own self-portrait, suggesting the ambiguities and schisms that exist internally. With the Anderes Porträt series however, you inverted that by fusing separate identities.

TR: The idea was to re-create a face: if you based an image on the nose, eyes, mouth, chin, and forehead that make up 90 percent of a person’s appearance, would it still resemble the person I photographed? I had to come to the realization that my portraits are totally individual and totally intimate, that you simply can’t imitate a face. A face is unique.

I tried this with a machine that had been used in the seventies by the police to find suspects based on witness descriptions. It worked on an analog basis, from the direct combination of separate negatives, so I then decided to create new faces that didn’t exist. I’d gotten the machine from a museum of police history, but they weren’t allowed to also give me the archive of faces they had compiled. That wasn’t a problem, though. I had my own archive of faces: my portraits. So I started mixing them. I combined two faces at a time, first male with male, then female-female, male-female, and finally female-male. I was wondering whether mixing two really male faces would yield a more male-looking face, a “macho” type, or if mixing two beautiful women would get me to Superwoman.

But it wasn’t manageable. It was all trial and error. I had to test every face with each other one. I failed every time I thought one face would go perfectly with another. Nature was striking back.

GB: But wait—now the contradictions begin to surface, because all of this experimentation and talk of the Superwoman does begin to sound uncomfortably like the Fascist theory you seek to undermine.

TR: At the end of the eighties, a French critic alleged that my portraits—probably because they were so big—were either Fascistic art or Socialist Realism. He couldn’t decide, but in any case, being compared as a German artist to the Fascists made me very upset. I decided in response to co-opt the cliché of Aryan art: portraits with blue eyes. I selected six male and six female portraits that I had already made, and added the iris of a female portrait that had bright blue eyes. I printed them at about 45 cm x 35 cm and hung them in a row. Surprisingly, though, they didn’t remind me of ugly theories from the 1930s, but more of discussions we have today—like genetic engineering—because the faces looked contemporary.

With the Anderes Porträt, my thoughts were similar. It was an investigation into how far you can go with mixing faces. I was also thinking about how there are sperm banks where you can choose your genetic material, like getting sperm from very intelligent people to produce an intelligent child, for instance. All of this was in my mind when I played Frankenstein (and Superwoman and Macho Man). They’re based on my curiosity about how things or images work. Do we have imagination sufficient to create a new world, or is nature that much more surprisingly varied and sophisticated than the human brain? We probably only have a fraction of the imagination of what nature/evolution/god can develop; I think our brains are just too small in comparison. But I’m getting overly philosophical.

The idea was to create nonexistent faces, ones that could conceivably exist but don’t. I didn’t want to use a computer, because the resulting manipulation would have been perfect. I purposely used an old analog technique because it was quite rough. You could recognize the manipulation, but you could also choose to suppress the manipulation (in a Freudian way) and look into a new face.

GB: Do you actually consider the Anderes Porträt series to be portraits at all, then, or some other form?

TR: They’re virtual portraits, faces of nonexistent persons. Must a portrait only represent an existing face? Perhaps they can imply the compound dimension of personalities and identities as they do—and don’t—exist.

GB: The portrait series have undergone a number of changes over the years. During the first few rounds, from about 1981 to 1991, the changes seem mostly addressed to graphic concerns—matters of scale, color, and so on. Something different happened when you returned to the portraits in 1998. Matthias Winzen went so far as to say that you were “trying to find out if it is legitimate to imitate oneself.” What drew you back to the form?

TR: Two things interested me. Maybe three. The first one was to find out if the portraits were only perfect for the eighties—if it was strictly a work made at the right time and the right place—or if they were more universal. I wanted to see if they were timeless, if it was a form that could survive not only a decade but also the millennium.

The second was to test the reaction of the art world to an artist imitating a work that had already been completed ten years earlier. To ignore the evolution of artistic development. To go back both mentally and formally. I was interested in watching whether the art world would refuse to see it as progress, and say instead that Thomas Ruff had gotten old and had no more ideas, that he’d gone senile.

The third motivation was to investigate the differences between the way my friends looked in the eighties, and the way that people of that same age group but a different generation looked ten years later.

GB: In fact, it seems you’ve come back to the portraits more often than any other subject. If portraits are the exception to your standard procedure with the series form, does that have something to do with the subject, with the fundamental aspect of interpersonal relations? Is this the one way that your people are different from your stars and buildings, for instance?

TR: There are four series with portraits—the eighties, the nineties, the Anderes Porträt and the portraits with the blue eyes, a variation of the eighties. So that’s not so much.

GB: But is there possibly something in portraiture that can serve as the basis for a lifelong exploration, even for someone so committed to the exhaustive dismantling of the integrity of images as we know them?

TR: As I mentioned before, everyone creates his or her own experience. We develop codes as an orientation frame for moving as a human being in this world and managing our relation to it. Portraiture worked two thousand years ago and it still works today. The changes are only matters of formality, of sophistication and complication.

[restoredandremarried]

Supporting Your Children's Step-Dad

A StepMom’s Thought on Father’s Day

Well, Mother’s Day has passed. I hope your day went well. I actually received a gift from one of my stepsons and his wife. This really cute balloon was attached to a bottle of wine. The balloon read, “Love You Mom.” Wow!!! The “M” word was used. The name of the bottle of wine . . .  “Unruly.” Hmmm..mixed message? I won’t even go there! I’m just thrilled that I was acknowledged for my role. 

Now, we look toward Father’s Day. Whether your kid’s bio dad is wonderful or a deadbeat, he will affect your husband. We, wives need to be sensitive to how our guys will respond. My husband (Gil) was kind enough to share a few thoughts. 

Dad’s come in all shapes and sizes, tall, short, skinny and extra-large. Dads also have roles they are supposed to play such as provider and rule keeper. Sometimes they offer a shoulder to cry on when a kiddo is scared or wounded. Importantly, Dads are to be someone to lean on except when it comes to not being a Dad in your own family. How is that possible? Enter the Step-Dad who often wants to engage his kids AND his step kids but encounters an internal battle of emotions he does not even know exists.

REVERSE BETRAYAL is an emotion that can sneak up on a man. REVERSE BETRAYAL is when a dad is becoming closer to his stepkids, yet he feels guilty because he may not have that level of relationship with his own kids. Living together in the same home will deepen and bond relationships. Many fathers feel they are getting robbed of the time with their bio kids. When a Dad can only see his kids a couple of times a week, many (or the majority of) conversations are done on the ride back and forth to Moms. It’s easy for resentment to spill over into his new family without him even realizing it. No matter what the age of the kids, reverse betrayal is still real.

I have the honor of talking with lots of men who are Step-Dads. I notice that some of these guys have a tough time connecting with their emotions. Add in the expectations and confusion on the path of step-fatherhood, and their hearts become a battlefield of mysterious reactions. How do I “DAD” another man’s kids? They are not my own, but I love them like they are. The times I don’t feel like I love them, I remember that they are a package deal with their Mom…who I love very much. 

Respect is important to men.That is the primary sentiment they want not just from their kids but other people. With biological kids, respect is naturally expected. With stepkids, it’s something to be earned. You get what you give. Step-Dad’s need to respect their kids.  Dads want is to be liked, aka – loved, by their family.  From a young age, sons and daughters see “Daddy” as fun, adventurous, and a storyteller. Some kids get to see the tender side of what a mature man is really all about. These aspects of a man are sometimes not seen by the stepchildren if the family comes together when the kids are older, such as pre-teen, teens or even adults. The kids may be too preoccupied to notice what a great stepdad they have! 

Here are a 5 ways to support your husband as the Step-Dad to your kids.

1. Show respect to your husband so all your kids can see what it looks like.

2. When he comes home from slaying the dragons of life, what does he like to come home to? Calm, running to a game, the comforting smell of dinner? If you don’t know, ask him. This will help him make the transition from his workday to being home. 

3. Realize how hard it is to drive his kids back and forth to their bio mom's home. Be sensitive to his relationship with his kids. Is it helpful to take a step back, or to step in? Ask him. Support his relationship with his kids as much as you can.

4. “Reverse betrayal.” Don’t take it personally. If he really feels that way, ask him how you can help.

5. A great way to connect with all the kids is to have him “date” them. Is it a trip to the batting cages? A pedicure (for the brave man)? Watching a football game? Grabbing some coffee or shopping? See what he can learn from them! Make sure you applaud his efforts! It’s a great way to build relationships.

Overall, make sure you are a safe place for him to talk about what he is experiencing. It only takes a few negative comments and our guys will shut down. 

Let go of your expectations of what he should be doing to father your kids. As you see him making efforts with your kids, encourage him every chance you get.

As Gil and I say…ALWAYS FORWARD!

[summoners-path]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED BY: @leviathkand ( aka: actual prawn. ) TAGGING: @crimson-legend, @spiras-sunshine, @vaetus, @doctriix, and last-but-not-least @notionsandhellebore! don’t feel obligated, though. i know this is long!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: ブラスカ ( burasuka. ) personally, i’m of the mind that spiran’s don’t use surnames. they don’t seem to have the need, with titles or occupations serving much the same purpose i’d guess. if anything, i could see them using their hometowns as identifiers, though ( i.e. yuna of besaid. ) NICKNAME/S: braska. yep. just his actual name will do. AGE: 26. ( at death. verse dependent. ) BIRTHDAY: late spring. i don’t think even he knows the exact date. ETHNIC GROUP: human. while spirans really only seem to be interested in separating humans from other races, i do think there are likely certain features that they’d use to try and identify where someone— potentially— hails from, especially since people haven’t really traveled much for the past 1000 years. my guess would be that braska looks pretty typical of people from the wilderia continent ( aka: the north side of moonflow ) being fairer in skin tone like yuna. NATIONALITY:  spiran. bevellian.  LANGUAGE/S: spiran. al bhed. spiran is, of course, his first language. his al bhed is near-enough to native fluency. but if anything, he still struggles to write it well. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: most likely bisexual, heavily leaning toward women. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: by default, married or a widower. verse dependent. CLASS: white mage. ( i’m just gonna go with the previous assumption here... ) HOMETOWN / AREA: bevelle. he’s never lived anywhere else. CURRENT HOME: bevelle. post-canon, though, he’s often in besaid.  PROFESSION: his first job was working as a healer, assigned to work with crusaders and warrior monks, post-combat missions. he later decided to join the priesthood and, as a result, became a missionary. he never officially became a priest, however, as he was excommunicated upon returning to bevelle with a heathen in tow. after that, he resumed his work as a healer, mostly dealing with sick or injured civilians that would see him. after the death of his wife, he became a summoner and subsequently died defeating sin.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: mousy brown. utterly unimpressive in every way. EYES: blue. a slightly lighter color than yuna’s. NOSE: yuna definitely has his nose, i think. it’s small and probably a contributor to making his face appear more feminine than he would like... FACE: oval-shaped. LIPS: thin, i think, though not terribly so. very mildly pink and more so when he bites them... which he does often. COMPLEXION: fair. he doesn’t tan really at all.  BLEMISHES: a scar on his left hand from a slice along the palm, cut on broken glass. 0:3 TATTOOS: none. no piercings either. HEIGHT: 5′7″. maybe 8″ on a good day or with some boots on. WEIGHT: uh... ? auron could probably throw him with ease. does that count? BUILD: thin. lithe. in his younger days, he was a spitting image of a string bean and he’s never quite come into himself. he doesn’t look as small ( or as short ) as he is, though... unless he’s standing next to someone like auron or jecht. ALLERGIES: he has a few seasonal allergies but nothing debilitating. the more he’s outside, the better they get, too. pet hair bothers him, but not badly. he can manage. USUAL HAIRSTYLE: more-often-than-not disheveled. by default, i picture it long enough to throw into a short ponytail ( which he likely does frequently, especially when working ) but it has been known to grow longer on occasion. he typically has shorter, clearly-quick-cut pieces outlining his face. and he always seems to have a cowlick or two... somewhere. USUAL EXPRESSION: a subtle grin. wide-eyed. hardly serious and hardly unamused. USUAL CLOTHING: i usually picture him in some simplified variant of the standard white mage get-up, most like the one seen in tactics ( only more masculine, of course ) as it’s not just a robe; it has clothes underneath. outside of that, he avoids wearing shoes whenever he can.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: heights. he’s gotten better about this over the years but standing at a cliffside or the idea of flying in an airship still makes him feel a bit woozy. a less shallow fear is that of being alone or ( perhaps more ironically worded ) being left behind. 0:3 ASPIRATION/S: he’s certainly not one to plan all that much and, on top of that, he seems to get stuck in that mentality of i’m lucky just to be here or have this so it’s not often he finds a dream and really latches to it. when he does, though, watch out! in a more peaceful time, i believe he would have taken to amassing knowledge and become a wonderful teacher of anything he knew. i think he’d very much like to be maechen. and post-canon, he would eventually take this same path so long as he doesn’t get caught up in politics, instead becoming a humanitarian of some order. POSITIVE TRAITS: optimistic. empathetic. intuitive. patient. passionate. NEGATIVE TRAITS: selfish. evasive. jealous. stubborn. impulsive. MBTI: INFP ZODIAC: air/water throughout. there’s a touch of fire in there somewhere, though...  TEMPERAMENT: sanguine. SOUL TYPE/S: spiritualist. ANIMAL: swan. VICE/S: for a man with eternal bedhead, he has an out-of-place sort of shallowness that rears up in nearly every aspect of his life. he’s very particular about foods, fabrics, teas. he likes beautiful places. scenery, a specific backdrop, is important to him. and of course, being around beautiful people is always a plus... aside from that, though, his impulsiveness could be considered a vice. he’s bad about buying things he ( or anyone else, for that mattter ) doesn’t need. but, typically, he does it with good intentions not just because his gil is burning a hole in his pocket. FAITH: his faith is arguably the most important aspect of his life. even with much of yevon being debunked, i don’t think he could imagine a world where a higher force wasn’t influential and a driving force for him to do good in the world. GHOSTS? of course! unsent are technically ghosts, as are fiends, right? AFTERLIFE? yes. he’s not fond of speaking about his personal experience with it, though. REINCARNATION? this one’s... a little complicated, but the short answer is yes.   ALIENS? anything is possible? POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: while i believe he’d be happiest staying out of politics, he’s too aware of his status as a summoner and the sway that holds to not try and use it ( at least to some degree ) for the greater good. most likely, he’d find himself most comfortable supporting new yevon as he’d strongly identify with that feeling of loss and being left behind by the changes of spira. but, he’s a first-rate victim of that institution as well, so... he’ll be wary. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: his preference would be to be rich, i think! then, he could buy everyone loads more useless gifts! really, though, i think so long as he could have the things he needed, he’d be just fine. he’s not terribly needy in that regard. he can make it work and is, actually, rather resourceful when he needs to be. he grew up rather poor and didn’t really have much of anything until he was old enough to work in the temples and trade his time for things he wanted. so, as long as he can avoid going back to that, i’d say he’s just fine. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: he, like yuna, would likely have much more sway than he would like. i don’t think he’d let that stress him, though. i think he’d own it to a certain degree, perhaps using it to reach out to people who he felt were in need or continue the work of bringing spira’s races together as he’d dreamt of so long ago. EDUCATION LEVEL: compared to the average spiran, he’s very well read. much of this, though, is attributed to his natural ability in white magic. because of his skill, he was taught well and had access to a lot more information than most would ever need or have interest in. his training as a summoner only added to that fact. and of course, being in bevelle had its benefits. being around and having access to some of spira’s most educated people does create an unfair advantage.

FAMILY.

FATHER: unknown. his mother had little say about the man and, while she was alive, braska was simply too young to really ask. he was a drunken deserter. MOTHER: senna, a seamstress. a surprisingly harsh woman given her kind appearance and petite size. she seemed to treat him more as a burden or source of cheap labor than anything else. but he seems to think back fondly of her just the same. she died when he was ten of the spiran equivalent of cancer. EXTENDED FAMILY: if his mother had any relatives, he never learned of them. his brother-in-law, cid, and his family would be the closest thing he has. SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): his wife, yuna’s mother, is his first love and certainly his most influential relationship. outside of that? verse dependent. NAME MEANING/S:  n/a. HISTORICAL CONNECTION: his natural talent for the summoning arts could mean that, somewhere in his ancestry, he has ties to zanarkand. i wonder...

FAVORITES.

BOOK: if it’s a book, chances are he likes it. he’s particularly fond of non-fiction, though, especially histories and anything dealing with great battles or the like. MOVIE: he’d be fond of sports films, i think, just as he’s fond of sports in general.  DEITY:  apollo. MONTH: february. SEASON: winter. PLACE: besaid, definitely. a less predictable choice? the calm lands. WEATHER: he’s fine with anything, really, so long as it varies. too much of any weather type will wear on him. but, if he had to pick one to suffer under for days on end, it’d be sun... with those tiny white clouds and blue skies! SOUND: muted laughter. songbirds. gentle waves on the shore. crinkling parchment. the sound ceramics make when hitting a wooden table. SCENT/S: anything clean like laundry coming in off the line, warm and gentle. fresh grasses and flowers. cinnamon and other warm spices. TASTE/S: anything mildly sweet or spicy. nothing too extreme on either end. soft floral and herbal flavors are ideal. FEEL/S: fresh-washed, cotton linens. the heat from a small campfire. warm ocean waters. the sun with a cool breeze. and anyone ruffling his hair. ANIMAL/S: he likes animals in general, but he’d be partial to anything he can hold that doesn’t mind being pet, outside of a chocobo, of course. they’re big but they are his favorite. NUMBER: 3.  COLOR: light blues. deep purples and reds. neutrals.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: story-telling. interacting with kids. sewing ( minor things. ) cooking. gardening. non-magic healing ( minor things. ) making jokes. BAD AT: planning. lying. swimming. fishing. board games. braiding hair. making jokes.  TURN-ONS: listening. agreeableness. unprompted helpfulness. playful teasing. eye contact. TURN-OFFS: indifference. insensitivity. condescension. lying. no sense of humor. HOBBIES: despite not playing himself, braska has an unbridled love of blitzball. keeping track of the teams, their records, collecting gear... it’s a hobby for him as much as an obsession at times. he also has a passion for travel, specifically if he can get to know the people in new places as much as the places themselves. also, he likes to collect things ( sometimes random things ) and, last but not least, he likes to grow things. i imagine he’d make a fine florist, really, after a bit of practice! TROPES: daddy had a good reason for leaving you, despair event horizon, maligned mixed marriage, the needs of the many, post-mortem conversion, ragtag bunch of misfits and senseless sacrifice. AESTHETIC TAGS: i don’t really have a tag for him!

[lunuanaki]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED BY: NO ONE. NO ONE TAGGED ME. FEEL THE BURN OF GUILT IN YOUR VERY WATERS. what? i wasn’t here? oh-- TAGGING: I THINK everyone has either done it or been tagged, but if you haven’t, then @ you.

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Meri. If she absolutely has to use a surname, she borrows Cid Kramer’s, as she’s really his ward as a Garden student. Her records say Kramer. But she doesn’t know her real surname, if she even has one. She’s thought about picking one, but not knowing her own ethnicity for sure, it feels wrong. She might pick entirely the wrong region.  NICKNAME/S: Hyne help you. AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: Doesn’t have one - doesn’t know it. can’t remember what day it was celebrated on, but roughly estimates her age based how old she thinks she was when she came to Garden, may in fact be a year or two off. ETHNIC GROUP:  ??? She’s definitely something mixed with something, but doesn’t know what. Her best guess is Galbadian/Estharan. NATIONALITY:  ^^^^ No idea. LANGUAGE/S: Common, some Estharan, but not particularly interested in languages unless there’s a clear aim to learning one. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Asexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Probably biromantic if that were ever a thing that presented itself to her ha hA RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single, always CLASS: White Mage/SeeD Captain specialising in healing - junctions Alexander for Med Data on healing items. HOMETOWN / AREA: ??? CURRENT HOME: Balamb. PROFESSION: Again, SeeD Captain - after refusing a promotion that would have made her uncomfortably notable, she was pretty much forcibly retired and teaches junior magic classes and a few undergrad ones when she’s not picking up after Kadowaki (please note those are her words, not mine - she spends so much time messing about with grat guts, she’s nowhere near Kadowaki’s level as a doctor). Technically she is still squad captain, but her squad are usually deployed one or two at a time as part of others, and it’s unlikely that she’ll be sent on big missions again.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Brown, slightly lighter and mousier than you’d expect from someone so obviously part Estharan-continent.  EYES: Brown.  NOSE: Small. FACE: Almost-heart-shaped. LIPS: Pretty average, usually arranged in an apprehensive sort of way, pinkish.  COMPLEXION: Tan, but unnaturally lightened some by lack of exposure to sunlight.  BLEMISHES: Scar below her ribcage, burned fingers here and there. TATTOOS: None. HEIGHT: 5′7″. Never wears heels. WEIGHT: I’m not good at estimating this. BUILD: Thin; notoriously poor in physical training. Her posture is pretty bad, and though she’s not very tall, she looks taller because she’s always at such a loss as to what to do with her limbs; always seems to be slightly uncomfortable with the amount of space she’s taking up. ALLERGIES: Pet hair makes her sneeze, but that’s all.  USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long, cut to keep it neat rather than to style it. Loose, but if needed she’ll tie it back while she works. Starts of center-parted but usually ends up elsewhere once she’s spent twelve hours running her hands through it in frustration. USUAL EXPRESSION: Blank, in all honesty, as if she’s waiting for you to fuck up. Distracted.  USUAL CLOTHING: Blue, white, oversized sweaters, not a fan of dresses or skirts at all. Her SeeD uniform requires it, so she wears shorts underneath that you can clearly see she’s wearing. There’s some debate among faculty about whether it’s really okay to make your female students wear mini skirts in this day and age, so no one has said anything about it. Flat lace up boots with her uniform (the knee-height type your laces can’t trip you so easy in) with her uniform, plain white tennis shoes any other time. That one time at @dolletian‘s party she wore heels and still hasn’t gotten over it. 

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Failure. Imperfection. Much as she tries to find answers to anything and everything, she fears some of the possible outcomes.  ASPIRATION/S: Doesn’t really have any. She assumes she’ll be in Garden academia until she dies; no one has ever really asked (they don’t tend to at Garden - nobody lives long enough to have Big Dreams, unless you’re Almasy, and we all know how that went). Her only immediate goal is to clear up her own memory blanks - she won’t admit to it, but she thinks if she can do that, it might give her some direction. POSITIVE TRAITS: Diligent, considerate, perceptive, honest, loyal. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, jealous, comes off as unfriendly, prone to flashes of sudden, strong impatience if things don’t go her way (see: the time she was all business until Helena locked the filing cabinet so she broke the lock off in front of Auron). Doesn’t know when to let it go. MBTI: INTJ/A ZODIAC: I have a feel she’s Aquarius, but I need @summoners-path to concur. TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic, not far off sanguine.  SOUL TYPE/S: Tied Caregiver/Performer, but I don’t think much to this, honestly. ANIMAL: A chinchilla. A large grey thing with judgy eyes. VICE/S: Does her own pride count? In some areas she isn’t sure of herself at all, but challenge her in a professional setting and she’ll really enjoy making a display of your incompetence. It might well come down to insecurity - you’d be trying to fight her on the only thing she really has. FAITH: None. No real belief in any Hyne Tales, doesn’t find it too likely that a giant magician is hiding in women and that’s the source of all humanity’s ills. GHOSTS? Not sure. In some capacity, maybe.  AFTERLIFE? She’d like to think so, but honestly? No. REINCARNATION? Seems more likely than the above, but not something she’d dwell on.  ALIENS? Fairly sure she does believe in those; it seems arrogant to think their planet is the only inhabited one in the universe, after all. And there were all those sightings of the little blue gummy man. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Not allowed one. Wouldn’t have one anyway. Everyone is as bad as each other. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Not considered. She doesn’t really have any economic sense; she’s paid pretty well and doesn’t need the money, since she doesn’t have family or do anything. She’s Garden research staff, so it’s not like she even pays rent. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: It’d be very nice if everyone could stop being shits to one another so she can get on in peace. EDUCATION LEVEL: High; equivalent to maybe midway through a PhD in irl terms, but it’d be one of those design-your-own programs that not everyone takes seriously...

FAMILY.

FATHER: Unknown. Seems like he was probably nice. Can’t see his face in her hypnotherapy sessions, likely because the memory of it just doesn’t exist. MOTHER: Died during childbirth; no clues about her at all. EXTENDED FAMILY: She knows she has an aunt who doesn’t speak the Gaian common language unless she has to. Other than that, she thinks there’s probably an uncle somewhere in there, but it’s all hazy. SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): None.  NAME MEANING/S:  Trabian word for sea. Chosen almost at random; she remembers her father calling her “Ri”, but doesn’t know what that was short for, if it was short for anything, so she chose anything with that sound in it. HISTORICAL CONNECTION: Who knows? She does seem to have a similar source magic ability to Almasy, albeit much weaker. Hyne forbid she’s his long lost sister or something, she’d rather eat a funguar.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Non fiction, textbooks, other people’s research papers whether they know it or not (but secretly loves a lot of fantasy type stuff, though her favourite irl book would be Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland).  MOVIE: ??? Never really been to see any... this is a “normal people hobby” she tried out once, she went to see that godawful movie about the knight and the sorceress... never again. DEITY:  Cheating because there aren’t really any besides Hyne - Eir. MONTH: March. Not-quite-warm. SEASON: Spring. PLACE: Rinauld Coast. WEATHER: Dry, warm enough that it doesn’t matter when she inevitably forgets a coat, but not too warm. SOUND: Ocean, silence, water, Alexander’s twin orbital laser cannons SCENT/S: Clean linen, sea air - plain stuff. She’s not one for perfumes. TASTE/S: Salt, specific candy, tea, most vegetables, especially crunchy ones. FEEL/S: Wind, ocean water, being warm in bed, being able to wear slippers in the clinic when the students are on break and bothering someone else-- ANIMAL/S: Fish, calm animals that won’t injure her or break. NUMBER: 6 COLOR: Blue, white, grey.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Healing, convincing people of completely false information because they can’t tell she’s joking, avoiding almost anything, she’s actually very good at listening to people when they need it. BAD AT: Social situations, sometimes bad at hiding her thoughts - not necessarily her feelings, those are held closer, but she’s a bad liar and you can generally tell what she thinks of you even if you can’t tell what feeling that results in for her. Surprisingly not the best at spelling sometimes - appalling handwriting.  TURN-ONS: I don’t think she has any in the usual sense, but transparency and self-confidence will go a long way to not putting her off you in the first place. She respects things like dedication and sincerity - exemplary performance as a SeeD, for example, will catch her attention, but not if you’re doing it for girls’ attention.  TURN-OFFS: Over familiarity, condescension - and I don’t know how to word this well, but if you casually ask if she wants to, y’know, go out sometime, without properly befriending her first, she’ll always say no. If you didn’t even bother finding out her name, she may never acknowledge your existence again.  HOBBIES: Reading, studying, writing and re-writing plans for work related and non-work related projects, drawing (she’s pretty good at replicating the innards of a geezard with a ballpoint now), performing unauthorised human experimentation on herself and possibly on Quinlan sometime, that might be fun. TROPES: I’ve got no idea without spending sixty years scouring TV Tropes and I really honestly have a totally irrational yet passionate hatred for the whole thing so I think I’ll skip this one if you don’t mind. AESTHETIC TAGS: c l i c k i t f o o l

[lazuliblade]

Breaking the Fourth Wall

I was writing a post about commentators and realized... there’s a little aspect that I always overlooked because it felt so natural all-along. I was having trouble trying to explain it without veering off-topic, so I’m devoting a separate post on this directing aspect:

YOI breaks the fourth wall. Repeatedly. During every program. I’m not talking about when Yuuri, Yurio, and Victor narrate episodes, I’m talking about camera angles. It’s done in such a subtle way that some of us either don’t notice, or we write it off as something else. The question is: Commentators aren’t heard in the venue, so why are we hearing Morooka? Simply because we’re not truly in the venue, but are instead viewers at home watching TV Asahi’s broadcast. For those brief moments that a skater is on the ice, we become the in-series spectators streaming the broadcast at home. In regards to possibilities for directing, Director Yamamoto chooses to do three things:

she lets us see into a skater’s heads (their thoughts and flashbacks),

she places us alongside the characters during private moments (moments not caught on camera/microphone), and 

she turns us into TV Asahi’s viewers at home.

Looking at point 3, the other option - having us become spectators in the venue - wouldn’t allow Yamamoto to include commentary on the programs (commentators aren’t heard in the venue). Which would be a shame because half the fun of watching figure skating is hearing what different commentators have to say about a performance. And more importantly: without commentary we would have no idea what’s going on -- unless you are well-educated in figure skating.

A character could provide the commentary on their programs ( “3A-2T” “I stepped out of that jump” “4S” “difficult entrance into a camel spin”) but doing that for their entire program would come off dry and a little too coherent for a skater doing an emotional performance. In fact, we saw this technique used with Seung-gil in episode 8 (Rostelecom SP). Narrating all the jumps and points in his head characterizes him as a very technical skater who could be called stoic or robotic. The moments surrounding his FS prove to us he can be emotional too. Having this kind of in-their-head commentary wouldn’t work for the more emotional skaters like Yuuri or Phichit - the calculating and stable train of thought would be at odds with how they skate and what they focus on (reaching out to people/pleasing the audience).

“Leave the technical commentary to the commentators” is probably what Yamamoto and Kubo decided on.

Going back to Yamamoto’s decision to use these 3 Point Of Views: Using all three methods makes the experience so much richer than if she had left one out. For example, that last scene with Yuuri and Victor right before Yuuri skates his FS (ep12). We’re placed right by their side to witness what’s going on between them. This is POV#2 “intimate” (their conversation not caught on tape) because moments later we hear Morooka comment in confusion (switching to POV#3). In including Morooka’s commentary, we’re being told by Director Yamamoto that this moment was private and no one else quite understands what just happened. Yuuri asked to go into his final FS laughing, and when Victor and Yuuri are shaking in each other’s arms, Morooka interprets it as crying. He - and all the other viewers at home (which would be us too if not for Yamamoto allowing us to view this) - are not privy to this interaction. I use the word “allow” because that is exactly what Yamamoto is doing. We see in episode 7 a case where we are not given this privilege: The kiss scene. In the immediately preceding moment we were allowed POV#1 “in the skater’s head” with Yuuri’s sightline tilting from Victor at the rink exit abruptly toward the ceiling. We are very briefly given POV#2 “intimate” with the close-up of each other’s faces, but then we are pushed away. In that moment where their lips connect, we were not allowed the “skater’s head” or the “off-camera.” We quite suddenly become mere spectators POV#3. I know Director Yamamoto and Kubo-sensei have said it over-and-over that the kiss was a private moment not for the viewers to see, but we are literally spectators. The camera angle we see is what the in-universe world sees. It’s like Director Yamamoto and Kubo-sensei pushed us out of that POV and set us back into place as a simple TV Asahi viewer. I don’t know why this feels like such a huge revelation, and it’s probably not all that important to 99% of everyone, but... I thought these angles were just a director’s choice to make scenes more dynamic. I hadn’t realized that it was a director’s choice for Point Of View and that the camera angle itself suggests what point of view we’re currently in (POV#1, #2, #3). Every time Morooka talks to the viewers at home, he’s talking to us; every time Morooka talks to us, we become even more removed from the situation and are literal voyeurs into their life. Where I’m going with all of this, is that there are moments where we’re watching a sport and not an anime. There are moments where we’re not watching a life story -- unlike what the act of storytelling strives to do. There are moments where we go from “anime watcher” to “figure skating watcher,” and I find that subtle transition fascinating.