#so my observations may not always be very astute

[teknicaldifficulties]

okay, right off the bat i don't have much to say about the grand theft autumn vid other than "the lip-syncing is adorably rough and i can look past it bc this was early on in the band's life" and "oh thank FUCK that random dude was i guess actually dating that girl he was filming, that would've gotten uncomfortable".

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

Wade Wilson is and always will be a cocky bastard. And ever since the..upgrade, so to speak, he will always be a little crazy as well. He's also a very good observer. Most people think of Wade as more of an idiot than anything, which isn't necessarily wrong, but he's not completely ignorant either. He makes astute observations all the time.

Especially after he met you. A hobby of his includes people watching. He enjoys making guesses and hypothetical observations about people based on how they perform naturally. This became especially true after he met you. It wasn't under the best circumstances, that's for sure, but it's a story for another day. Basically, you killed him (if he could die), and he became obsessed. Simple as that.

No, it's not really because you.. incapacitated him. People are after his head on a platter all the time. It was more because you did it on accident, isn't that fun?

Wade was chasing some poor robber down the streets. Chasing is a bad word for it. He was more like following him. The poor asshole decided to steal some ladies' purse, but Deadpool happened to be nearby. The man gave chase, and Wade began to happily skip after him down the streets of New York.

He was happier than usual because Spider-Man had requested his help in New York, hence why he was there in the first place. This was unfortunate for the robber. Wade happily unsheathed his sword as the robber backed himself into the dead end of an alleyway. "Alright, macho, I've got plenty of time to teach ya some manners. 'Cause honestly, it was so rude of you to take that ladies shit. Like, you didn't even ask. I can't let you walk around with a bad attitude like that!" And his joke would have been perfect, say the line and then cut off one of his legs. But he didn't get to the punchline before a heavy metal bucket fell onto his head.

The robber didn't hesitate to take his chance and run as Wade's neck snapped, and he fell to the ground. He wheezed as he blinked, struggling to move. "Oh.. oh, this isn't fun." His voice sounded as if his lungs were being squeezed. He couldn't move anything but his eyes and mouth, so he couldn't turn his head to see who was running out of the side door to the building.

Quick footsteps approached his folded body, and he could see their feet. Or rather, their shark slippers. "Oh my god.. Oh my god. I just killed a man." The voice panicked. "Ah, don't worry about it -" but he was cut off as your foot came flying in contact with his nose. You screamed and covered your mouth, eyes wide as you eyed the man on the alleyway outside your apartment.

His neck snapped in a way that made your gut queasy, and his, now broken, nose looked funny, pointed so far to the right. Even through his odd mask, you could tell it wasn't a pretty one. You didn't mean to kick him. It just happened! You thought he was dead, and then he talked, and he sounded so casual that a natural fight or flight picked up in your brain and...well yeah.

..now you're dragging him into your apartment elevator. He was heavy, and you couldn't tell if it was because of his suit and armor or because of his own body weight. It was probably both. Luckily, the landlord just recently got the elevators fixed. You might have given up the moment you saw the stairs if they were the only option.

Now you were really doubting your decision as you stared down at this masked man on your couch. Basic respect kept you from pulling up his mask, and anxiety kept you wondering if the couch was too uncomfortable. You then had to remind yourself that you broke his fucking neck before dragging him up here. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, and you moped to the kitchen.

It didn't take long for your cup of coffee to brew, and you hummed in delight as you smelt the beverage. It may have been too late for caffeine, but you really needed a pick me up after the day you were having.

"Oh damn, I love that brand! Can I have some?" Wade's voice startled you, and your glass slipped from your hands. Hot coffee poured down the front of your cotton shirt, and you gasped in pain before dropping the mug. The noticeable cracking of the mug slipped your mind as you hastily pulled your soaked shirt away from your skin. You did NOT need to be burned on top of everything today.

Wade kissed his teeth and held a fist up to his mouth, tilting his head as if he had been the one burnt. "Ah, fuck, really didn't mean to scare ya toots." Ironic, you thought to yourself. It was way past that point after breaking his neck and-

.. wait, he looked fine. No, that's impossible. Surely you just couldn't see him properly because of the dim lights in your kitchen. Or maybe it was because of his suit. Oh! Perhaps you were dreaming, and all of this was a big nightmare.

"Uhm..nope, I'm very real princess." Wade's voice cut through the tense silence. After a few more seconds of staring at him, your eyes rolled back, and you stumbled to the floor. Wade wasn't even slightly fazed by this. He's had worse reactions to a first meeting with a stranger.

"And you haven't even seen my face yet, sweetness." He mumbled as he kneeled down next to you. He debated on what to do for a few seconds before huffing and shrugging his shoulders an 'oh well.' He stood back to his feet and opened your cabinet to find a clean mug. "Ohh~ I haven't had good coffee in ages!" He spoke to your unconscious form in excitement, pouring the hot liquid into the yellow mug. Wade smiled as he downed the coffee in one gulp, the steam coming out his nose. "That's the shit right there.." Wade belched with a nod.

And that's how he met his shy girlfriend..

-------------------------------------------------♤

Months went by, and it wasn't long before Wade Wilson was wrapped around your finger. He would randomly appear in your home and stick around for hours at a time. Most nights, he wouldn't stay all night and would get out of your hair as you went to bed. Eventually, he came around and began sleeping on your couch.

This evolved into the big idiot coming to you after every mission, no matter the shape he was in. You became used to his company, and luckily, you grew used to the sight of blood and gore pretty fast. Even better, you enjoyed his personality. He was surprised with how fast you grew comfortable with his insane rambling and odd comments to "the audience past the screen." He found his feelings for you to start growing out of proportion.

Once he realized just how down bad he had gotten for you, he was very bold about his feelings. He wasn't trying to hide a single thing around you, especially his adoration for you. One thing led to another, and you both began to date.

After he brought you home blood-soaked take out bags and got down on one knee like he was going to propose to you. Outside of your home. Where all your neighbors could see, of course.

Despite the rocky start, it was a hit. The relationship between you both blossomed into a happy routine. But this didn't mean you grew out of your shy personality. Since day one, you have been quiet and reserved. And not in the way that you were keeping secrets. You answered any questions Wade had for you without missing a beat. But you would never initiate things unless he did. You never asked to see his face. You never once stated you wanted to know his career. Hell, Wade had to tell you himself that you should be angry with him for dragging blood into your apartment.

Wade was definitely the opposite. He was cocky, loud, flirtatious, funny, and if he had something to say he would fucking say it. He didn't need someone else to do it first. Perhaps this was mostly because he was an impatient man, but also because he had never been afraid of conflict. Hence why he became a mercenary in the first place. Plus, the money was damn good, too.

On one of the more slow days, Wade had decided to stay in your apartment and just wait for you to return home from work. You hadn't texted or called since your lunch break earlier, but he simply thought it was because you were busy. Surely you would call him on your way home, like you always do, to make sure he didn't need anything at the store. But your call never came.

Instead, Wade heard the front door quietly open and close. He smirked softly at the soft footsteps in the entrance hallway. "Took you long enough short cake! I was getting worried thinking about ya, I didn't want to have to eat dinner without my favorite dessert around." He would often tease you like this, and every time you would respond with a shy smile and a fond eye roll.

It was a beautiful smile.

And Wade felt his heart drop when he looked over his shoulder, peering over the back of the couch, to see you standing there. Your cheek was swollen, a slight cut on your lip, and a distant look in your eyes. There is no trace of the sweet girl he loved so much. You looked so numb at the moment.

Wade didn't hesitate to stand from the couch, but his actions made you blink out of the trance you found yourself in. You glanced at him and looked down at the floor, eyeing the trail of mud you tracked through the house. "I'm sorry.." You mumbled. Wade didn't get to say anything before you kicked off your shoes and started walking to your bedroom.

Wade silently followed you until he was standing in your bedroom doorway, watching you change into something more comfortable. You were moving like a zombie. He hated it. He was so used to your timid and slow movements because that's who you were. But this was..this was heartbreaking.

"I'll, uhm.. I'll clean up the mud after I change." You mumbled, pulling your arm through the hole of the T-Shirt. Wade stepped forward with a sigh. "Honey -" "I can cook dinner after, I meant to stop and get groceries on the way home but..I got sidetracked." You interrupted him, your quiet voice sounding forced. Almost as if you were holding back tears.

"Baby, stop -" But you interrupted him again when you attempted to push past him, probably trying to go to the kitchen. Wade gently gripped your arms to keep you in place as he stood in front of you, blocking your way. Your gaze stayed planted in front of you, as if you were looking through him. Wade leaned down so you would finally look at him. He could see the bruise forming under your eye better now. And something in his gut twisted painfully at the sight.

"What happened?" He said softly. You shrugged, and your eyelids fluttered softly. "It-It doesn't matter now. It's over, and I just want to relax." You sounded like you were trying to make yourself believe it more than Wade. And his eyebrows (or rather, where his eyebrows would be if he had any hair) furrowed, and he held eye contact with you. "What. Happened?" He was more stern this time.

Perhaps it was his serious demeanor that caused your facade to crack and crumble. He was never this way, even when he returned home missing limbs. The concern in his voice tilted your already fragile state. And you began to sob. Wade hadn't expected such a turn in emotions so fast, and he pulled you into his chest. He easily ran his fingers through your hair as he waited for you to calm down. Maybe Wade wasn't a patient man, and he was definitely too cocky for his own good, but when it came to you, he dropped all of this and just became Wade Wilson.

The man before the tests and experiments, before the laboratory and cancer, when he was just himself. And he loved that you did this to him. You put the scrambled pieces of his mind back together by just being with him. By loving and supporting him. And Wade would be damned if he let this situation go. He would stay and put your own broken heart back together. He didn't know what happened, but he could take a guess. And it wasn't pretty.

Especially for whatever asshat decided to lay their hands on you. But Deadpool could worry about that later. Wade Wilson was more worried about his girlfriend at the moment.

He soothed you and rubbed circles on your back, allowing you to cry into him. It was just you two in the whole world right now. And that's how you liked it. Everything else could wait until later.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Pensieve

Words: 999 😬

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus eyed the pensieve in Dumbledore’s office. “Is that what I think it is, Professor?”

Dumbledore nodded, “A pensieve, used for storing and reviewing memories. I must admit, the older I get, the more I appreciate it.” His eyes twinkled at Remus.

“Wow,” He knew what Dumbledore wanted to talk to him about, and he wasn’t ready to hear it.

“Severus Snape, from Slytherin, had a close call last night. I’m sure Mr Potter has filled you in on the details.” Remus nodded, “We need to discuss what led to this incident. How many people know about you?”

“James, Sirius, Peter and now Snape I suppose and anyone he’s told today. He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“I understand. I have forbidden Severus from discussing this with anyone, and if he is found to have done so, there will be severe consequences.” Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses. “Why would Sirius disclose your whereabouts?”

“I don’t know.” Remus stiffened. He hadn’t been able to look at Sirius since James gave him a rundown of what had happened. “I haven’t spoken to him since dinner last night. I don’t understand why he would put me in that position, Professor. He knows how terrified I am of hurting anyone, and he just— Why would he do that?” Remus sniffled and Dumbledore pulled a clean handkerchief from a drawer in his desk and passed it to Remus. “Thank you. I just can’t fathom what could have possessed him to do this.”

“Sometimes people make choices that aren’t logical.” Dumbledore mused, “Do you believe that Sirius would hurt you deliberately?”

“Until now I would have said no,” Remus said quietly. “I still want to believe that he wouldn’t. No. He wouldn’t.”

“People are not always what they seem to be,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I once had… a friend, he changed so slowly that I didn’t notice until it was too late and we were both in grave danger. I don’t want you to suffer the same fate, Remus.”

“Thank you?” Remus was unsure how he was supposed to respond to that.

“In your opinion, should Sirius be allowed to remain at Hogwarts?”

Remus blinked at him, “Are you asking me whether you should expel him or not?”

“I’m interested in your feelings.” Dumbledore shrugged slightly.

“Sirius would never hurt me, or anyone he cares for, intentionally. I hope he has a good reason. I don’t know.” Remus frowned, “He tries his best to be nothing like his family, and I can’t imagine what they’d do to him if he got expelled. So, in my opinion, Professor, it would be irresponsible for you to expel him, for that reason alone. Any other feelings I have are irrelevant.”

Dumbledore seemed to take this on board and nodded sagely. “Thank you, Remus. You may go. I’m very glad that nobody was harmed.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far, Professor,” Remus said, his brow creasing.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Dumbledore waited for Sirius to step back from the bowl.

“It is only because of Mr Lupin’s astute observation about your familial circumstances that I’m not considering expulsion. You should make sure that you thank him.”

Sirius had never seen Dumbledore’s eyes so lifeless. “Respectfully, Professor, I doubt he’ll want to talk to me again.”

“Sirius, why did you do it?”

Sirius closed his eyes to will away the tears forming there. “He already knew.” He let out a small sob, “He made some disgusting comments about me having… relations with a monster. Threatened to write to my parents and tell them. Not that it’s true, the monster part or the relations part. I love him but we’re not— He won’t—” Sirius paused, “But if my parents suspected either of those things were true, I don’t know what they’d do, but Remus wouldn’t be safe. If they thought he was a werewolf who, in their eyes, defiled their son and made him gay, he’d not stand a chance outside of school.”

“How does this relate to your decision to tell Severus where to find Remus?”

Sirius sobbed again, trying to get a handle on his breathing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I— Last year, James, Peter and I became animagi. Yes, I’m aware that is illegal, but I’m hoping you might look past that because of why we chose to do it, and the effect it’s had on Remus’ transformations.” He swallowed audibly, “We spend the full moon with Moo— With Remus as our animagi forms, and we can keep him safe and he’s less destructive. I’m a dog, Peter’s a rat and James is a stag.” He sniffed, “I thought if he caught a glimpse of Remus— Just enough to scare him. I thought we’d all be there to prevent anything bad happening, but I got detention, and I forgot to tell James to be on the lookout.”

“I see.” Dumbledore was looking at him curiously. “Your actions were reckless and could have had dire consequences for both Mr Snape and Mr Lupin.”

“I know, Professor. I feel like the worst person in the world right now. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, no matter how much I loathe Snape, you have to believe that I’d never intentionally do that to Remus.”

“I believe you, Sirius. Which is why I will only take 50 points from Gryffindor on this occasion. You will also serve detention with Professor McGonagall every evening for the next month.”

“That seems more than fair.” Sirius looked thoroughly defeated.

Dumbledore recognised that same look in him six years later when Sirius was brought in front of him and the Minister for Magic and subsequently sent to Azkaban for murdering three of his friends.

Remus’ words echoed in his head ‘Sirius would never hurt me, or anyone he cares for, intentionally’. Dumbledore had made sure that Remus was still with Greyback’s pack when he arranged for Sirius to be brought before the small committee.

Remus Lupin was not going to talk him out of it this time.

[steviebunny]

Pretty Astute Observations

Coquilles

___

06:00

Will Graham walks through the foyer of Hannibal Lectors home, bags still dark and heavy beneath his eyes. 

“Is it safe to assume you are not sleep walking now?”

“I’m sorry its so early”

“Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends… and their partners.”

“Lena?”

“Came to see me just an hour ago, an interesting conversation was had on the topic of evil. Perhaps reaching out to her would be your best course of action. That's why Jack recruited her, is it not?” He says while fiddling with the espresso machine.

“I uh- I don’t know her very well.”

“One could always use more friends.”

“What about you doctor?”

“I’ll have you both…If you’ll have me” The innuendo could almost be unsettling if it wasn’t for Hannibal's air of confidence blanketing the statement. “Onset of adult sleepwalking is less common than in children.”

“Could it be a seizure?” Will asks gratefully accepting a glass from Hannibal.

“I’d argue, good old-fashioned post-traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty ”

“I wasn’t forced back into the field” 

“I wouldn't say ‘forced’, manipulated is the word I’d choose.”

“I can handle it.”

“Somewhere between denying horrible events, and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

“So I can’t handle it.”

“Your experience may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control.”

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say thats a loss of control?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Hannibal asks, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?”

“You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. I'm beginning to feel more like an old mug.”

“You entered into a devil's bargain with Jack Crawford. It takes a toll.”

“Jack isn't the devil.”

“When it comes to how far he's willing to push you to get what he wants, he's certainly no Saint.”

—-

08:50

“You know, Hannibal seems to think we should be friends.” The statement shocked Lena, of all the things she expected Will Graham to say at a motel crime scene that was not one of them.

“Does he really, and what makes you think I’d like to be your friend?” 

“....I have dogs?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Telling.” 

“Good. I love dogs, and now that we have that settled. Room was registered to a John Smith, big surprise there “

“An appalling failure of imagination.”

“They paid cash. There are no security cameras on the premises... another big surprise.”

“John Smith one of the victims?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, according to the register. They were mutilated and displayed. Jack and Zeller think it’s the Ripper but there were no surgical trophies taken, and the Ripper doesn’t exactly profile like the type of man who would vomit at his own crime scene”

“How can you be sure it wasn’t one of the victims?”

“They were strung up antemortem, and the sick was on the bedside table, once you see their positioning you’ll get why thats improbable.”

“Should I brace myself?”

“Definitely. It's not good in there.”

—

“Hooks were bored into the ceiling. A fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and... the wings. At least we know he's a fisherman.”

“Or a Viking.” Zeller chimed in.

“Vikings do this?

“Vikings used to execute Christians by breaking their ribs, bending them back, and draping the lungs over them to resemble wings. They used to call it a "blood eagle." Pagans mocking the Godfearing.” Lena laughed at Zeller’s ‘fun fact’. He raised a brow in her direction at the gesture prompting her to reply.

“Well you can’t say the Christians didn’t deserve it, they bullied their way into a foreign land, tried to murder those who wouldn’t give up their beliefs in the name of the church then moved their ‘savior’s’ birthday from spring to winter so that they could take over the pagan holiday of Yule for themselves. And pagans were also ‘god-fearing’ just not in a monotheistic sense”

“How do you know all that?”

“When I was with the BAU, the resident boy genius was going on a theology kick for a good few months. Each ride on the jet was at least a couple hours…I picked up some things.”

Zeller admonishes the idea and goes back to impatiently swab collecting with Beverly, She and Price laugh under their breath at the man’s childish behavior.

“No, he isn't mocking them. The unsub thinks he’s…transforming them. Elevating them in some way. 

I need a plastic sheet for the bed.”

—-

This is not who you are. 

This is my gift to you. 

I allow you to become angels. 

And now, I lay me down to sleep.

—

"Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws."

“Robert Frost.”

“Jim Morrison.”

“Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he's God. Or the lizard king.”

“God makes angels. Jesus was fond of fishermen.”

“Are we talking hardcore Judeo-Christian upsetting, or just upsetting in general?”

“This is a very specific upsetting.”

“Increased serotonin in the wounds is much higher than the free histamines, so, uh, she lived for about 15 minutes after she was skinned.” Zeller announced.

“Powder residue on the neck of the soda bottle shows Vecuronium... scotch and soda and a paralytic agent.”

“Kneeling in supplication at the feet of g-dash-d.”

“Supplication is the most common form of prayer.Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

“They weren't praying to him. They were praying for him. He's afraid.”

“What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?”

“What's in his vomit?”

“Uh, Dexamethasone...That's used for patients with tumors.”

“Kepra... He's epileptic. Radiation?”

“Gamma four, Steroids for the inflammation, anticonvulsants for the seizures, radiation for the chemotherapy.”

“Our guy has a brain tumor.”

“He's afraid of dying in his sleep.  He's making angels to watch over him.”

—-

An eclectically dressed woman, speed walks in her high-heeled shoes down the halls of the FBI looking for her target. Penelope Garcia won tickets to the most exclusive karaoke bar in Virginia (okay maybe she rigged the competition a little, who has to know?) and she’ll be damned if any member of her precious found family denies her invitation. The moment she spots Lena she grabs the woman’s arm pulling her into the commissary.

“You owe me.”

“What-” 

“Technically I’m not supposed to be helping out your team, and- and well you owe me, so you can’t say no to me!”

“Penny, what are you talking about?”

“This weekend, karaoke, you, me, BAU.”

“I’m on a case right now, sweetie. If Crawford doesn’t have us in the field I’ll be there.”

“Oh, you’ll be there alright. I’ll make sure of it!” The grin on Penelope’s face is contagious even as she rushes back off to her fortress of solitude.

—-

12:00

“There is no one and only spiritual center of the brain”

“Any idea of God comes from many different areas of the mind working together in unison.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”  Being wrong in this case seems like an unnatural event no matter how true or untrue it may be.

“How do you profile someone who has an anomaly in their head changing the way they think?”

“A tumor can definitely affect brain function, even cause vivid hallucinations. However, what appears to be driving your angel maker to create heaven on earth is a simple issue of mortality. Can't beat God, become him?”

“You said he was afraid.”

“He feels abandoned.”

“Ever feel abandoned, Will?”

“Less and less each day, if you and Jack keep encouraging me to make friends, either way, abandonment requires expectation.”

“What were your expectations of Jack Crawford and the FBI?”

“Jack hasn't abandoned me…I didn't expect to be working so closely with others…Lena wants to meet my dogs or rather insinuates she wants to meet my dogs. Definitely didn't expect that.” 

“Perhaps Jack hasn't abandoned you in a discernable way.”

“Perhaps in the way gods abandon their creations.”

“Is Jack God to you?”

“No more than you are.” If Will had looked at Hannibal's face he might have just seen a smile.

“You say he hasn't abandoned you, but at the same time you find yourself wandering around Wolf Trap in the middle of the night.”

“Well... This should be interesting…Please, doctor, proceed.”

“Jack gave you his word he would protect your headspace, yet he leaves you to your mental devices”

“Are you trying to alienate me from Jack Crawford?”

“I'm trying to help you set proper boundaries between employee and employer…I am also trying to help you understand this angel maker you seek. Well, help me understand how to catch him. If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible. What, scare him out into the daylight?”

“Might even get him to hurt himself, if he hasn't already. If he were self destructive, he-he..he wouldn't be so careful.”

“Unless he's careful about being self-destructive, making angels to pray over him when he sleeps.”

“Sleep is sacred, and who prays over us when we sleep?”

---

19:00

“Why angels?”

“Well, it isn't biblical. His angels have wings.”

“Um, angels in sculptures and paintings can fly, but not in scripture.”

“Technically not…if we're accounting for the angels that amass as giant winged amalgamations of eyeballs one would assume they could fly too?” Lena now always being a foot behind him is a fact he'll need to get used to at scenes.

“He's drawing from secular sources?”

“His mind has turned against him and there's no one there to help.”

“Uh, Jack... look at this.”

Are those… What are those?”

“Somebody got an orchiectomy real cheap.”

“Doesn't look like the victim.”

“So they're the angel maker's?”

Lena might just need to stop threatening to castrate men who frustrate her now, something about actually seeing the after-effects is more than unsettling.

“He castrated himself?”

“So he isn't just making angels; He's getting ready to become one. Angels don't have genitalia.”

“So he was afraid of dying. Now he's, what, getting used to the idea?”

“He's accepting it or he's bargaining. Heh, bargaining chips!”

“So, does this mean that he's done making angels, or is he just getting started?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, he's not just killing them when he's sleepy. I mean, how is he choosing them?”

“I don't know. Ask him.” Will begins to sweat almost profusely, removing his glasses and wiping his brow.

“I'm asking you.”

“You're the head of the behavioral science unit, Jack. Why don't you come up with your own answers if you don't like mine!?” Will’s voice raises in frustration. Crawford's face begins to morph into a threatening scowl.

“I did not hear that! Did I?!” he screams back at Will. Lena steps forward separating the two men.

“Jack I think its time for you to take a step back.”

“Do NOT get involved Gibbs”

“You brought me in to get involved! He’s obviously overwhelmed and looks like he’s on the verge of passing out, pushing your team won’t get you shit.”

“I know how far I can push my own team”

“Graham isn't officially on the team, you made that clear, and I’m telling you he’s done with the psycho-predicting today”

“I don’t need to be protected, I can see the rest of the scene,” Will says with a dejected rasp.

“I didn’t say we’re leaving, just to stop getting into the Angel Maker's head. I’m sure Dr. Lecter would agree with me if he’d seen that interaction.”

Jack's face screws back up and he storms away from Will and Lena. Beverly then approaches with a friendly smile and a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder. “My ears rang like the first time I heard my mom use the f-word. Are you ok?’ (he chuckles) ‘I know it's a stupid question considering that none of us could possibly be ok doing what we do, but… are you ok?”

“Do I seem different?”

“You're a little different, but you've always been a little different.”

“Brilliant strategy… that way no one ever knows if something's up with you.”

“Maybe not anymore, you’ve got a guard dog now.” Bev smiles and nods at Lena, then leads the two behind her further into the scene.

—-

19:20

“Meet Roger and Marilyn Brunner. You might recognize them from such lists as most wanted.”

“He likes to rape and murder, she likes to watch.”

“We got a DNA match. They falsified the motel registry and were driving a stolen car, so it took a second to identify them.”

“I wonder how long it took Angel Maker to identify them.”

“He didn't choose them randomly. He knows something about them.”

“He sees something we don’t.” It gets harder to not think of Sherlock, why the hell is Virgina so full of artistic and metaphorically motivated criminals?

“The murdered security guard wasn't actually a security guard. He was a convicted felon.”

“Could Angel Maker be a vigilante?”

“Well, vigilantes are pragmatic, they're purposeful; They don't lay down and sleep under their crimes.”

“In his mind, he was doing God's work. That spells vigilante.” Feels eerily similar to a certain terrorist too.

“Well, playing at God has other advantages. One of them…Is always being alone. So he makes angels out of demons.”

“How does he know they're demons?”

“He doesn't have to know. All he has to do is believe.

—

22:00

Will escorts Lena to a joint session with Hannibal practically the second after the both of them had been dismissed from duty for the evening.

“It's difficult to lie still and fear going to sleep.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You listen to your breathing in the dark and the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes.”

“I dream more now than I used to.”

“Well, your dreams were the one place you could be physically safe, relinquishing control. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I thought about zipping myself up into a sleeping bag before I go to sleep, but it, heh, sounds like a poor man's straight jacket.”

“I’ve always found another body to be helpful…Sherlock would drape himself over me like a blanket when we slept. Bit hard to thrash during a nightmare if you’re simultaneously being squished.”

“Are you offering yourself to Will as a duvet, Lena?”

She laughs dismissively “We don’t know each other that well yet, Lecter. I’m sure at least one of your dogs is large enough to keep Graham still.” 

Will grimaces and huffs, “The dogs don’t sleep in my bed, I sweat sort of profusely…so even if they start there they’ll move off during the night at some point.”

“Well, then I guess I’m getting you an expensive sleeping bag for Christmas.” Will can’t actually tell whether she means that sarcastically or not, he looks to Dr. Lecter prompting the psychiatrist's next question.

“Have you two determined how this angel maker is choosing his victims?”

“Our killer, Well, he doesn't see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if you're naughty or nice, or he thinks he can.”

“So God has given this person insight into the souls of men.”

“God didn't give him insight; God gave him a tumor.”

“God… rapidly dividing cells that keep trucking along. Seems so human, what deity would work so hard?”

“He's just a man whose brain is playing tricks on him.”

“You are not unlike this killer.”

“My brain is playing tricks on me?”

“You want to feel such sweet and easy peace. The angel maker wants that same peace .He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside and then find it's endless, all around him.”

“He's gonna be disappointed.”

“You accept the impossibility of such a feeling, whereas the angel maker is still chasing it.”

“I don’t think peace is impossible, I think the point of life is just striving for it, having it for a short amount of time. Then chaos ensues again. Balance, good and bad, Evil and righteousness. Peace and terror.”

“ And what or your life Lena has it been balanced between this sense of peace and terror?”

“More terror than peace, lately. But I think the scales are starting to level again.”

“If the Angel Maker got close to peace, that's why he will look for it again. I've tried to reconstruct his thinking and find his patterns.”

“Instead you find yourself in a behavior pattern you can't break. You realize you have a choice.”

“What is it?”

“Angel Maker will be destroyed by what's happening inside his head; You don't have to be.”

“That would require him telling Jack to screw off and stop pushing him,” Lena says as Hannibal stands from his place at his desk.

“Do you feel that Jack Crawford has bad intentions when it comes to dear Will?” 

“I’ve known Jack a long time. We’ve always had an antagonistic relationship, we first met through his wife when I was young. She helped my father on a case…he was not thrilled, I’ve never known why. He then tried to poach me back when I was with the BAU, but he chose to wait until our unit chief was going through difficulty…I suspect he might have even had a hand in convincing Director Strauss of her ‘motivations’. I didn’t want to be manipulated so I left. Went to Scotland Yard, and well… you know the rest, terror struck, Crawford sunk his claws in and here I am. The least I could do in my task to help Will is make Jack's life a little more annoying don't you think?”

Both men seemed to take in Lena’s perspective though whether her opinions on Crawford landed with Will is unknown. Hannibal seemed a bit more accepting. Nodding as he leaned into Will, sniffing the detective.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle.”

“Well, I keep getting it for Christmas.”

“Have your headaches been any worse lately? More frequent?”

“Yes, actually.” 

“ I'd change the aftershave.”

—-

07:00

“Elliot Budish: 35-year-old truck driver.”

“He's got a fishing license too. Uh, match came from the national cancer database.”

“Married, two kids… they haven't seen him in four months.”

“He was diagnosed five months ago.”

“Meet the angel maker.”

—-

“This'll be the last one.”

“It's Budish?”

“He made himself into an angel.”

“It wasn't God, it wasn't man. It was his choice to die.”

“His choice?”

“As much as he can make it.”

“I don't know how much longer I can be all that useful to you, Jack.”

“Really? You caught three. The last three we had, you caught. You caught three of them.”

“No, I didn't catch this one. Elliot Budish… surrendered.”

“You know, I'm used to my wife not talking to me. I don't have to get used to you not talking to me too.”

“No one wants to know your relationship issues Jack.” That earns Lena a glare, and if it was anyone else probably the uptick of a certain favorite finger.

“It's getting harder and harder to make myself look.”

“Well, nobody's asking you to look alone.” He says, angling a hand to the red-head.

“All due respect I am looking alone.”

“None taken, I’ve kinda made a career of playing sidekick.”

“You wanna go back to your lecture hall? Read about this stuff on tattlecrime.com?”

“Would you let him?” Lena says at the same moment Will announces “No, I don't…But that may be what I have to do. This is bad for me.”

“You go back to your classroom. When there's k*lling going on that you could've prevented, it will sour your classroom forever.”

“Maybe. And then maybe I'll find a job as a diesel mechanic in a boatyard.”

“You wanna quit? Quit.”

—

Entree (part 1)

“In the night. In the dark. Journey’s end and yet lover’s meeting.”

[green-like-pine-trees]

Oscar and the Sun

Right out the gate, characters are not either sun or moon. I have seen this in so many circles. I understand that typically this is a shorthand for a character having a collection of qualities. "Oh, this character is so sun because she is firey, yellow, upbeat, and persistant". Like okay, this is fine, you have observed traits about a character.

But saying character = sun, character = moon doesn't inherently give it meaning. These symbols need to be grounded in something and contextual to the work.

I think this post is actually one of my favorites because it tries to provide meaning as to why Ruby is constantly associated with the moon. Ruby is the light in the darkness, she is looked up to as a beacon of hope. Just like the shattered moon, she still persists even after all of her hardship. It's very insightful, mentions things I never even noticed before – please give it a read.

I prop this up to say, that when she also proposed Oscar was associated with the Sun and/or artificial light, it gave me pause. I think it's an astute observation, however it also feels incomplete. Why is it important, what does it mean?

Well, I have a few guesses that I was hoping to share :)

V4C1 – The sunrise is a useful way to indicate a hopeful new era for the show and Oscar, just as dawn indicates a new day. Lots of transitions in this scene: sleeping to waking, closed to open, inside to outside, darkness to light. Oscar doesn't know it yet, but he's got adventure that's about to come knocking.

V4C7 – The scene where Ozpin tries to convince Oscar to leave. The colors in his room are warm (browns, reds), comfortable– contrasted by the cold blue of the world outside his window. It may be cozy but inside it's dark; the lantern only provides some small, temporary light. If Oscar wants true fulfillment, he'll have to venture outside and into the sunlight.

V4C10 – Oscar leaves the barn for the first time since Oz has made himself known. The scene is filled with cool colors and it starts to storm as Oscar approaches the train station (love some pathetic fallacy). The main light source comes from the blue terminal– all of these elements and technology are a heavy contrast to the comfort and warm colors Oscar experienced before. This is his crossing of the threshold, his first brush with danger and the unknown– the beginning of a long road ahead.

V6C6 – The episode opens with Ruby looking out the window at the moon and snow outside. Meanwhile, WBY are gathered around the fire, while Oscar is far away from it, pacing in the darkness. Ruby looking out the window could be a sign of her focus on the bigger picture, moving forward.

WBY's focus on the fire is a sign of their focus on the present, temporary comforts. They're not completely checked out like Qrow, but it's short term. Oscar keeping away from the fire could be a sign of his greater uncertainty. WBY are all huntresses (with Maria, a former), they're doing all they can do right now. What can Oscar even do in a situation like this?

I love V6 but also wish they capitalized on Oscar also being a farmer who would've stayed stagnant if he hadn't left his former life.

V6C9 – in this episode, everyone's sad and worried, running around in the the streets of Argos. When Oscar is found, he's light in the darkness: a celebration, an unambiguous joy. With his return, the gang are brought out of the darkness of night, past that gateway, into the warm light inside a home. Not only does Oscar want to be a part of the team, but the team wants him around, too. The rut is over, and they're a united front, again.

V7 – Oscar spends a lot of time indoors, this volume. The interiors of Atlas are shades of white and grey, lit by cool blue artificial lights. Earth color farm boy Oscar isn't in Kansas anymore, that's for sure. He's trying to get through to Ironwood, but there's always a sense of unease, that Oscar can't fully get Ironwood to see eye to eye.

I love how Oscar descends with the blue light harshly lit behind him, then he ends up being forced to walk along it as Ironwood corners him. All of the shadows contrast strongly, pitch black. All of these elements stress how dangerous Ironwood is.

Oscar is then shot off the edge into the dark mechanical underbelly. He breaks through and we get our first glimpse at the sunrise. In contrast, it's open, warm, and colorful. He's free.

Again, Oscar carries us forward into a new era with another signature sunrise. However, the sunrise is definitely bittersweet. On the one hand, Penny is the winter maiden, Ozpin is back, and Oscar is safe. On the other hand, Qrow is going into custody, Ozpin is back, and Salem's forces are on the horizon.

However, I do want to return to the notion of Oscar being not necessarily associated with the sun, but in lieu of. Dawn but not the sunrise, light but artificial. We don't even see the sun itself while Oscar is falling, that honor is given to Qrow. As if it's sort of taunting him, considering what he just lost.

Why is this the case? Well, we've established that Ruby is often associated with the moon– light in the darkness, hope in uncertainty. If we're going to tie Oscar in here, making him the sun doesn't really work. Ruby is the mentor, the one Oscar looks up to and is inspired by. The moon reflects the light of the sun, not the other way around.

So, we have the next best thing. Oscar is an artificial light in the darkness, not a celestial one. When the moon goes down, the sun rises.

Another reason why I'm cautious of saying anything definitive, is I think it's more of trend than a symbol. Take this V8C1 scene, when they're figuring out their plans. Once Oscar starts trying to help mediate and temper expectations, he's constantly positioned beside this light fixture.

When Yang calms down and agrees with Oscar about Penny, BOOM, light fixture be upon ye. She might've been harsh to Ruby, but her heart's in the right place.

(Previously she was positioned in front of it, blocking the source of light).

I see this less as "Oscar's thing is light fixtures" and more so, Oscar is constantly, unambiguously a good boy™ who always tries his best. Very often, the plot and framing positions him as a bringer of sunrises, a warm welcome on a cold night. Light has historically been an indicator of truth, knowledge and goodness– things Oscar tends to embody.

We could get into lamps, gold, and the little prince but this post is long enough.

So yeah. I'd like to thank gatherkeepsakes for the inspiration, I thought you made some really good observations.

[fuzzysocksstuff]

Leo has been the leader since day one

Alright, I haven't seen this conversation yet, but I can't be the only one who's noticed this. This isn't my usual post- not that I post often- but art is WIP.

~aannnnyyway~

Leo has been the (back seat) leader of the Mad Dogs since day one.

Mobile users, RIP no seriously, you are digging your own grave

In the first two episodes he shows his potential, he thinks ahead, guides the team, makes astute observations, shows his knowledge of his team (including himself), and makes his own plans (even if Raph has made a plan, he almost always has his own).

I'll go through the first two episodes chronologically.

First is Mystic Mayhem.

-This is a good example of understanding himself-

Leo: So . . . You guys from Jersey?

Mikey: Really Leo?

Leo: What? I can't make a joke in the middle of the craziest thing ever? That's how I cope.

-Leo stops his brothers and forces them to think ahead-

Mikey: Should we just ask him for it?

Leo: And what do we say when he asks us why we want it? That we need to go after our best friend, who disappeared into a wall after our priceless weapons were destroyed by mystical jogger guys?

-Not only is Leo showing how well he knows his dad, he executes his own plan when Raph's first plan fails, without asking his brothers first-

Raph: How'd you get that?

Leo: You know he always passes out after milk and cake.

-Now, this example is a debatable one, yes it shows his understanding of Raph, but it may also just be to shown to establish relationships in general since this was the first episode-

Donnie: A few hours ago I would have called this foolish and impossible. Now I just call it foolish.

Mikey: Say what you want Donnie. Raph'll pull is off 'cause if he doesn't, we'll loose our best friend forever.

Leo: Mikey, don't say that. You know he chokes under pressure.

Donnie: Leo, he's even more self-conscious when you talk about it.

-Here, while happy to see April again, he keeps the team on the task that got them in the hidden city in the first place. It can be argued if this was on purpose or not; but it still showcases his natural ability to lead-

Donnie: According to my calculations, we are in a tertiary-metaverse.

April: Actually, I've been doing some exploring, and we're in a hidden city deep under New York!

Leo: So where's the dog thingy?

-There are even subtle moments where Leo takes the lead; after Donnie takes out Draxum's robot with his tech, Leo is the only one talking to Draxum directly for the team. This is another debatable example, you could say Leo is just being the face man here, but I'd like to include it-

Draxum: Accidently impressive. With a little bit of training you can be formidable as I hoped.

Leo: Okay, well, great, and since you're surrendering. . .

Draxum: Baron Draxum does not surrender.

Leo: Okay, well, when he gets here we'll deal with him. . . oh, ho, ho, I see. You're doing that whole "sinister talking in the third person" thing.

-Here, he is the only one to once again question Raph's decision, and present his own idea instead-

Raph: We just defeated a boss villain. We're heroes. We deserve a name like Mad Dogs.

Leo: Mad dogs? You don't think something like Mutant Ninja Turtle Teens or. . .I don't know. Maybe - we'll keep brain storming.

The very next episode has soooo many parallels to the movie.

Origami Tsunami.

The dialog is long on this one and, despite the humor, throughout this scene Leo guides his brothers to the best mission for their skill level.

Mikey: Yo, Leo, we're gonna be heroes!

Leo: Okay, what's the plan? Solve the city's rat problem?

Splinter: Hey now. I am standing right here.

Raph: Pfft, no way. We're crime fighters!

Donnie: Okay, check this out. The Spine Breaking Bandit!

Raph: Yeah. Go big or go home!

Leo: Yeah, go home in a stretcher. What else you got?

Donnie: Hmm, well this one's kind of lame. Someone stole paper from a delivery truck.

Leo: Not on my watch! This is exactly the kind of junior level mischief we can put an end to.

-Leo then hypes his brothers up for this mission-

Raph: Really? That'll make us heroes? But it's only paper.

Leo: It's only paper. I'm so sorry. Donnie, what did he say? Did he say it's only paper?

Donnie: Yup.

Leo: Did he say it's only paper?

Donnie: Yes, he did.

Leo: Okay! That's what they all say. You think the road to hero town is paved in real crime? No! It's paved with the tears of the poor paper man. And who helps that guy? I'll tell you who; we are who!

Raph, Mikey, and Donnie: Yes!

-When Raph's first plan fails, and he sees how discouraged his brothers get...-

Donnie: Uh, quick question. Did we seriously get schooled by paper thieves?

Raph: I didn't swoop like a boss. I swoop like a noob.

Mikey: Man, this seemed like a really cool idea until we didn't succeed at it.

-...so, Leo gives a "hero" speech, like he does in the movie. Although this motiving speech needs some help, he still tries-

Leo: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Where'd my brothers go? Mikey, where's your. . .legendary optimism? Raph, where's your, ya know, your go-getter attitude? And Donnie, where's your. . . your thing, your - emotionless passion?

Donnie: Here.

Leo: We can still catch these lame old paper crooks and be heroes!

-In continuing this scene, we see the Leo make and execute his own plan, now that Raph's impulsive plan has failed-

Donnie: Yeah, that's gonna be hard. This was the last paper store in town.

Leo: Hmm. . . or was it?

Donnie: Yeah, I. . .I literally just said that.

-Again he takes the lead talking to the foot clan first (could just be that he's a face man here, but nonetheless)-

Leo: Okay twerp. . . and surprisingly big man. It's four against two. So what you say we just call it a day, right?

-Leo uses his observations to guide the team, here when the foot are making their origami soldiers, Leo realizes taking out the paper ninjas isn't a solution-

Leo: We're getting no where fighting these guys. We gotta take out the source.

-After Raph ~properly~ uses his ninpo for the first time, Leo again uses his surroundings to find a solution, in doing so he shows both guiding his team, and astute observations-

Leo: Hm. Mikey, the sprinklers!

-Even at the end of the second episode, they look to Leo for reassurance and support-

Mikey: So. . .does this count as a win?

Leo: Well, I don't know. Let's think about it. Did the bad guys get their big supply of paper? Uh, no. Did they build their army of soilders? No. No they didn't. Are they otherwise Thwarted, and we unscathed?

Raph, Donnie, and Mikey: Yes!

Leo: Hero mission accomplished, my friends!

Alright.

First off, if you've made it this far, thanks for attending my not even close to life changing ted talk. I hope you have enjoyed my rant.

In conclusion,

Leo has the potential to lead, just prefers to do as little work as possible. He almost always passes resonsibility onto someone else, however when he has no other choice but to lead he does it well without realizing it. There are many other subtle examples sprinkled throughout season 1 and 2.

I have more thoughts on this, but this post is already the height of the empire state building.

Class Dismissed.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hey it’s me again lol hope you’re doing well. My midterms started this week and I am not having a good time, I didn’t prepare well enough so ig I’m only reaping what I sowed 😔If you do ship writing besides MC ships, could I request some comfort JuminV? I could use some fluff in my life rn lmao, thank you so much in advanced 💗—submission

“Your eyes are cloudy, Jihyun.”

“An astute observation,” Jihyun muttered under his breath as he leaned his head back against the couch to avoid Jumin’s gaze. “I know what you want to tell me, Jumin... and as I’ve told you before, I’ve come to terms with what’s happened to me and I’m not sure that I want to mend what’s been broken. There’s nothing to be done to change what happened now that it’s happened, what else can I do... but accept it?”

A long, somber sigh followed his words that Jumin chased after. “That is what you said after the accident you and your mother went through. You shook your head and said there was nothing to say about your scars despite how much it caused you pain to look in the mirror.”

Jumin wasn’t wrong.

There wasn’t a moment when his observations weren’t correct, but the way he knew how to cut deep without fail, every time, had its charm. He knew that he would never be able to avoid Jumin’s candor, nor the way it blended with what mattered most to him—the well being of someone he cared about. That was a core value to Jumin Han’s very existence and by being someone he called his best friend, he was no stranger to that empathy.

Jumin wanted better for him...

Even if they both understood Jihyun wasn’t sure he deserved it.

In a soft voice, he said, “I couldn’t escape my scars.”

"I don’t believe your scars were something you needed to flee from, Jihyun.” Jumin said. The words meant to say what they both knew. “I don’t think you need to run away from this operation, either. There’s no guarantee that the operation will fix your vision, much less give you back some of the sight you have lost. But, if you are denying the operation because you think you must carry this scar as you carry—”

“Don’t,” Jihyun’s words croaked in the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or his shattered heart that made him more vulnerable and open to what his friend was about to say, but he knew what Jumin wanted to say. He knew the words like the back of his hand because it wasn’t the first time he’d heard them... they just felt heavier on Jumin’s lips than they ever did on his own.

Jumin said nothing but slowly but surely, he leaned over and let his head rest against Jihyun’s shoulder. “I apologize. The wine has made me become much more forward in my thinking tonight. You know I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Jihyun... I worry for you.”

A part of Jihyun’s heart whispered: If you know what I’d done... how I failed... you wouldn’t dare worry for me.

“I’ve always worried for you, my friend... when I look into your eyes... they may look physically cloudy upon first glimpse... but it goes deeper than that. There are clouds keeping your truth from me... and I won’t press you for what’s been haunting you as of late, but I want you to know... I will always listen when you are ready to speak to me, Jihyun. My heart is open to yours.” 

Jihyun’s own heart fluttered at those words that neither he or Jumin would ever explore the way they might’ve liked to, barriers, insecurities, fears holding them back, but to know it was there was to know what it was like to be home. To be home was to be with Jumin. For some reason, that was always the truth. That was always where he wanted to be, even if he couldn’t admit to himself, even when they were kids.

For Jihyun, even at his darkest moment, he yearned to know that Jumin would be there for him. Even if he couldn’t dare bring himself to ask for the help that Jumin would rightfully give without a second thought. Jihyun didn’t think that he deserved the operation on his injured eyes— just as much as he didn’t think he deserved Jumin’s love.

I know it is. It always has been. His heart whispered as the words were never confessed aloud.

[imconfusedwithallofthis-blog]

Hey! I'm back to talk a bit more about alpha tested image rendering!

This is a continuation to my previous post, so if things are not making any sense you can go back to that one and take a look ;)

Just a little recap about my arbitrary goals, I want to draw a circle on the screen (and maybe generalize for more shapes in the future!) using as base a small texture like 16x16 to a bigger size, lets say 256x256.

the setup we ended last time with was:

generate a 16x16 texture that is: - black if the center of the pixel is inside the circle - white if the center is outside

magnify the texture using bilinear scalling (interpolating the inbetween pixels with the nearest 4 linearly)

alpha testing the resulting image to get sharp corners instead if blurry areas

The astute among you may notice that the final image does not look like a circle at all, I mean, it is less blocky, and less blurry, so an improvment for sure, but we can do better.

The key thing to notice is that by applying those steps to the image to upscale it, basically we redefined how we are describing our shape, instead of a pixel directly describing the color we want to paint, we end up with something more like describing a shape by a math equation, wherever this math equation is bigger then 0.5 we are inside our shape, and wherever it is smaller then 0.5 we are outside our shape

Noticing, this we may do some cool things with the first step, If we know that what we care with the image is the position of the resulting 0.5 (grey) contour, we can paint our initial pixels in a way so that when we scale our image with the bilinear interpolation we get an isoline that better represents a circle

One method that is very common is to paint each pixel in the original image with the distance to the nearest point in the shape.

there is just a few problems that we have two big problems with using this:

The distance defines our shape as the exact point where d = 0, and since we are sampling points and linearly interpolating we end in the border interpolating something between 0.02 and 0.03, so we are never getting a perfect zero, maybe the best we can do is consider as zero anything smaller than some arbitrary epsilon, and end up wiht something like this for the border:

We also cannot easilly differentiate what is the inside and outside of our shape, in our previous technique we could just check if the value in our scalled image was bigger or smaller than 0.5

there is a technique that kinda solves those two problems, and it is so useful in so manu areas that it gets its own name it is Signed Distance Fields (or simply SDF)

the idea is that we do the same thing that we did before, but now, if the point that we are looking at is inside the shape we say that the distance is negative, so now:

Near two points in the border we are interpolating between something like 0.02 and -0.03 so it clearly will always passes trough 0

to check if we are inside or outside our image we can just check the sign!

well, let the result speak for itself (in this case, i draw positive values as shades of purple, and negative as green)

and now, our border, is way better defined as well!

Nice! now our circle is looking way more circular now, and we are still only using our old 16x16 texture!!

Well, actually there are still a few small things that we can improve, the first thing is that our texture color values only go from 0 to 1, so we had to cheat a little using an rgb texture so we use different colors for positive and negative values (we also, also divide the distance by the size of the image so we never actually get smaller than 0 or bigger than 1), this also makes so the bilinear interpolation is a little funky, since it interpolates the channels separetly.

So what actually gets used in games and other media, where this application makes sense is a Pseudo Signed Distance Field, we basically observe that:

we dont care about having precision far from the area where we have borders, so we can clamp our SDF between -2 and 2 pixels from the border for example

we also, dont need the contour to be specifically 0, if we go back to before, and set the border with 0.5 as a value, we can transpose and scale our values from -2 and 2 to to 0 and 1 by dividing by 4 and adding 0.5.

what we get at the end of this is a single image 16x16 image that we can apply the exact same steps that we were doing before, so basically no new "runtime" computation needed and now we get a way smoother circle:

That is a great result, but this is not the end of the road for our technique!

For now all I did was describe techniques that are fairly well known

there are a lot of things to understand yet.

and if we understant better those things maybe we can push the technique forward and make improvements in quality and performance, and maybe get smaller, better looking games ;)

some of the things that I've been trying to understand are:

why specifically did we use the distance field as the underlying way to to encode our shape

what are its limitations

is it the best we can do?

how much can we zoom before we start getting visual glitches?

can we get similar results in a shader with less texture samples?

can we get better results with more?

what are the implications of interpolating with bicubic or biquadratic?

and if we dont use a single value for our isosuface we oculd maybe get lines thinner than a pixel from the original image!

how can we best decide what is the best texture size to encode our original image.

This seems like such a simple sequence of steps, but there is so much more that we can do and so much further that we can push it!

[welcome-to-oslov]

A Bror/Tilrey chapter coming up!! 😍

Omfg just crying again 😭

"It was Bror, too, who’d kept Tilrey company after some of his worst nights with the Magistrate, sitting close and only touching when asked to." 💔

By the time of A Serviceable Boy (2.5yrs from now - I guess they have about 6m left now before the horror begins?), there are so many hints that these two have been through a journey together... 🥺❤️‍🩹

I also love the hints you drop that Tilrey must've even talked with Bror, eventually. 🥹

One time during All Kinds of Broken, Tilrey thinks in despair (while still with Malsha, I think), "Ever Artur & Bror think my best bet is to just make the best of it. But they don't understand."

By the time of ASB, Bror does understand.

He'd astutely picked up hints along the way that he was concerned about - from the very beginning -but by the time of ASB he was keeping very serious & private stuff Tilrey had talked with him about in confidence 🥹💔. He'd refused to tell Celinda what Tilrey's story was, he refused to tell Gersha. "It's not my story to tell, if you want to know why Tilrey is the way he is." In the Int/Sec situation, Celinda said stuff that made Tilrey hurt & angry & shocked Bror had told her certain secrets (like what they did to him at the brothel); fortunately, he soon realized Bror never had - the Int/Sec guys fed her the info.

"Tilrey's always off by himself. It seems like he has no interest in fucking anyone - except Bror," Celinda noted early in ASB. That's right!

He's such a good friend (in-another-life-boyfriend) 🥹🔥

Hahaha, I completely forgot Celinda making that snide comment about Bror and Tilrey! She may be a mean girl, but she’s observant. 😄

You’re giving me new ideas about how things could go and when/what it will take for Tilrey to open up to Bror, which we haven’t seen him do yet to the extent he has by the time of ASB. So thank you for the inspiration! ❤️

[seven-meds]

I just got hit with the BIGGEST dose of dopamine looking through your marble collection. I like pretty things!! I love collecting things!!

So, how does one get into marble collection?

(Also, I did not know that marbles aren't all round!! I really love the twisty marbles in your collection!)

That's wonderful to hear! I'm always glad to know people are enjoying marbles… they're one of humanity's greatest achievements. A feat of art and science.

I'm not certain if you are asking me how I got into marbles or how someone in general could begin collecting marbles, so I will answer both:

The catalyst for my own interest in marbles was me waking up one day and feeling like a marble. As in, my conceptualization of my own body and self was that of a marble - specifically a marble in a very large, empty room. I don't think I can adequately explain this... If you imagine yourself, what enters your mind immediately, what informs your concept of your body and how it moves through the world - for me, it suddenly was a marble. This change in form and identity made me yearn to look at and touch marbles, in the same way humans are interested in looking at and touching other humans.

I once made a list of all the ways marbles are similar to Arthur, which may be the easiest and most condensed way to get across my feelings about marbles as a whole. I’ve uploaded it here.

But beyond that, marbles are art! To ask why someone might collect them is like asking why someone would hang a painting in a room. Marble making is an artform that requires highly specialized knowledge and complex machinery. It's not as simple as mixing glass together and shaping it into a sphere. And contemporary glassworkers are doing things with marbles that are unique and innovative… marbles continue to evolve and change. Your pointing out that not all marbles are round is actually an astute observation and one that is contentious in the marble space now that marble making is no longer confined to corporate standards. What exactly makes a marble? This is the question modern marble makers are seeking to answer.

As for how one can begin collecting marbles themselves, I first recommend familiarizing oneself with vintage marble companies and their output. Marble Alan's site is a great place to start. I personally began my collection with Jabo marbles, which are both gorgeous and monetarily accessible. Ebay is the hub for vintage collecting if you become serious about it, and modern marble makers tend to have either their own stores or stores on etsy and the like. I personally use GlassORBits for finding contemporary makers. And of course the marble collecting subreddit is always worth a look.

Hopefully this answered your question!

[mariacallous]

I feel sorry for Gary Oldman. He has done something rarely attempted by stars of year-end Oscar-bait movies: He has turned in an understated performance! He plays superannuated spymaster George Smiley in the new movie version of John le Carré’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. And it seems all anyone can talk about is the 1979 BBC TV version, starring Sir Alec Guinness in the same role.

In The New Yorker, Anthony Lane gushed over Guinness’ “opaque yet disarming sagacity.” The Atlantic’s James Parker dubbed his “the definitive performance.” (My favorite of Parker’s many astute observations: Guinness’ Smiley “moved as if he were wearing three overcoats.”) They’re both right, of course. Oldman understands that Smiley’s strongest urge is to blend in with the hideous ’70s wallpaper, and he seems appropriately worn down by the life he’s led. Nevertheless, Oldman can’t quite embody the retiring world-weariness and disappointment that Guinness so effortlessly conveys.

The problem is one of reality vs. verisimilitude. Guinness was 65 years old when he first put on Smiley’s spectacles; Oldman is a mere stripling of 53. The same can be said of the period setting: Director Tomas Alfredson did an amazing job of summoning up the dismal gloom of Britain in the 1970s—all smoke and fug and nary a glimpse of color. It’s an artful reconstruction. But Guinness and the murderers’ row of great British actors assembled by the BBC were twitching net curtains and visiting bland safe houses in the real 1970s. How can Alfredson possibly compete with that?

Greater length doesn’t always mean added depths, but le Carré’s complicated story makes more sense when it spills out over the course of the TV series’ six hours rather than the movie’s 127 minutes (as my colleague Dana Stevens can also attest). Both versions turn a thinky book into a talky teleplay—even in the big-budget movie, some parts of the story are conveyed in conversation rather than shown.

The TV series is full of brooding menace, but there aren’t a lot of thrills—it’s more cerebral than that. The mole at the top level of the British intelligence service is trapped using logic, not firepower. (Smiley is a very scholarly detective who spends hours examining documents.) The movie’s most heart-racing scene involves an attempt to smuggle a folder full of documents out of a library-like place. It’s the old-school version of that contemporary cliché: a hero copying computer files onto a thumb drive as bad guys approach.

Watching the TV version after seeing the film is a fascinating exercise, but it’s also a little repetitive. If you can’t face the same mole hunt all over again, check out Smiley’s People, a BBC production from 1982 in which Smiley once again returns from retirement to save “the Circus,” as le Carré called British intelligence. It was filmed three years after Tinker, Tailor, but the rudimentary computers that have started to pop up around the office make the setting seem positively prehistoric. In this adventure, Smiley heads off to Europe in pursuit of his nemesis—proving that the man can maintain his composure even among foreigners and hippies. The highlight of the series is an amazing face-off between Smiley and the Circus’ new boss, Saul Enderby, in Episode 5. Barry Foster plays Enderby as a slimy showoff who treats Smiley like a doddering fool. It’s worth sitting through the whole six hours just to see how effectively Guinness can express annoyance and dismay in a momentary glance. You may not even notice—and that’s kind of the point.

[eddysocs]

Wants And Needs (Lady Danbury x OC)

Summary: Simon isn’t about to let Lavinia waste another evening in boredom. He can tell the wise and comforting words of a friend right now could do her wonders.

Word Count: 1,173

Warnings: Angst, Pining, Comfort And Support From A Friend

Lavinia's eyes danced around the room, flitting between one courting couple and the next, as she wondered which of them would be engaged by the end of the season. It was a game she played with herself to pass the time and forget that she could not be one of those on the dance floor, happily gazing into her partner's eyes.

Before she was lost too deeply in thought, the infamous Duke —Simon, to her— appeared at her side. "Still playing games then," he asked, recalling how she did so even years ago, when she was first debuted.

"What, were you expecting me to stare blankly at the wall like some vacuous debutante," Lavinia snarks. "I think you know I moved past that stage quite some time ago." A grin pulls at Simon's lips, and Lavinia gives him one of her own in return.

"I don’t suppose you would consider joining me for a dance," Simon offered, as their eyes drifted away from one another and back out to the crowded floor as the song came to its end.

Lavinia took a moment to think it over, letting the last chord of the song fade away before she deigned him a reply. "That would make the third ball of the season where you took me out to the floor, Simon."

"A very astute observation," he said, "but I’m afraid it does not answer my question."

Lavinia looks back to him, a raise of her eyebrows indicating her disagreement. "That’s where you’re wrong. It answers it quite plainly, as you must know what it would look like."

Simon huffs. He didn’t much care for what something looked like or implied. He and Lavinia had been the closest of friends in childhood, so why could he not share a dance with her now with no expectations? "My offer remains," he decided, extending his hand to her. "It is solely up to you now, whether you let a few mamas dictate how you spend your time, with who, and for what reason, when it is only you and I that know the truth of our respective situations."

Simon made a fair point. A dance may be seen as something significant by others, but a dance was not a contract, not a formal one anyway, and there was nothing she should be made to fear by enjoying at least a bit of her time at the many events the season held. Lavinia accepted Simon's invitation, and she let him lead her out to the floor as the musicians started up again with another soft and lovely melody.

"They will expect a proposal," Lavinia stated, as they took their first turn about the floor. Despite willfully accepting his invitation, she wanted to make it doubly clear where she stood on the matter. It may have been their decision, but it was still an ill advised one.

"And who is 'they'," Simon asked, playing dumb.

"The ton, Lady Whistledown…Lady Danbury." He can see the hurt in her eyes at the mention of Lady Danbury, a hurt so powerful that it led her to avert her gaze from his eyes, staring instead at their feet as she used to when she was a young girl learning the steps to some of the ton's more popular dances.

Still, he felt the need to press her further. "And that is not what you want?"

Her gaze lifted from the floor and traveled to somewhere in the distance past his shoulder. She couldn’t meet his eyes again, not yet. They would betray too much. "It is the last thing I want, Simon. And I know it is the same for you. That’s not to say a marriage with you wouldn’t be comfortable, as I know that to be false. I imagine I’d be quite content to spend my days with such a dear friend. But the thought that I could have something more, that is my truest dream."

At this, Simon chuckled, not out of cruelty or cynicism, but with mirth. "You truly have not changed since you were a girl, Vin. You have always worn your heart on your sleeve." He paused as the music quieted before its crescendo, and when he spoke again his tone became more serious. "Does your heart still lie where I’ve always known it to?"

The implication of his question caught her off guard, and she met his eyes once more, hers now widened with shock. Had he really known it this whole time? She’d never so much as voiced it out loud, not to Simon, not even to herself. And the words, even now, seemed lodged in her throat.

"She’d be lucky to have you as a companion," he pointed out. "She's always been gentler with you than I’ve ever seen her be with anyone else. While I cannot speak of her affections, something you and I both know she keeps close to her chest, I can, with confidence, speak to my own observations and I have never seen you, nor her, happier than when you are with one another."

Lavinia let Simon's words sink in, and he didn’t pressure her to speak this time. He only wished to let her know that he understood, and that whatever may come, he was there for her. They’d always done that for each other. In a world where they felt like outcasts, the other would ground them and allay their fears. It had always been this way, and so it shall remain.

Simon's hand lifted off of Lavinia's waist as the melody faded away once more, the song over. Lavinia felt she could exhale again, fully now, as their conversation ended in time with the music. She would not make a show of running off, though it was the only thing she wanted to do, right down to her very bones.

Instead, she curtseyed to Simon, and the two friends parted ways. Lavinia snuck quietly off to the edge of the grand room, content to once more disappear into its shadows and watch from afar. Yet she was not left alone for long. With the skillful quiet of a jungle cat, Lady Danbury appeared at her side. "You would make for quite the match," she hinted, however far from subtle the hint may have been.

"You know better than that, Lady D," Lavinia gently admonished. Had it been anyone else who had spoken to her that way, she’d have thrown them out on their ear, but Lavinia could always get away with such behavior. Perhaps Simon had been more right than she thought.

"I am just saying, it could be exactly what the both of you need." Lavinia tried to read the older woman's expression, since the words themselves had an air of mischief to them. Lady Danbury had always been wise and intuitive, but whatever she was getting at was lost on Lavinia in the moment. How could Simon be what she needed, when the person she really wanted, really needed, was right by her side?

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @chickensarentcheap, @endless-oc-creations, @unheolycs-ocs, @fawera, @themaradaniels, @that-demigirl, @iloveocs, @bossyladies

Lavinia Harris: @elorasfandomsandocs, @dollvi3e

[steviebunny]

Pretty Astute Observations

Ouef

20:40

“Graham, how would you feel about a partner?” Jack asks stepping in beside Will.

“I’m sorry- what?”

"What if I could pull in a profiler from the BAU to help keep you on track, Dr. Lecter said I’ve been pushing you too hard, and Strauss knows the Behavioral Science Unit is understaffed”

“I don’t need a babysitter Jack.”

“She wouldn't be a babysitter, Will. She’s extremely knowledgeable in her field and has experience similar to your…particular situation. ”

“Another psychiatrist, Jack? Hannibal, too busy for your liking?”

The bell for the following floor rings, and Crawford moves off the platform just before the doors close he says “Not a psychiatrist actually, a marine.” The elevator doors close and Will Graham is left in stunned silence, having just missed his floor and apparently been assigned a new partner. 

—-

09:00

“Most of the time in sexual assaults, the bite mark has a livid spot at the center, a “suck bruise”. In some cases it does not. For some killers biting may be a fighting pattern, as much as a sexual behavior.” 

Jack slams the class door, open and shouts at the room full of students.

“Ok, class dismissed. Everyone out! What did I just say?! Let’s go!”

“You’re making it difficult to provide an education, Jack.”

Despite the previous evening's barrage by his pseudo-employer will still managed, to put together a lesson plan for the day. Little did he know it would not be necessary.

“ We found a match to a set of prints we pulled from the Turner home. They belong to a thirteen-year-old boy from Reston, Virginia. His name is Connor Frist.”

“Another kid?” Will wondered aloud.

“Another missing kid. Vanished ten months ago, case was never solved.”

“How many kids in the Frist family?”

“Three.”  Will’s head snaps to the door of his classroom, he hadn’t noticed the red-headed woman approach. She had a delicate and sturdy build 5’5, maybe 5’6, and dark jeans and a tank top exposing her muscled biceps as well as the tattoo ‘semper- fi’ wrapping around her left arm just above the elbow. “just like the Turner family.”

“Agent, Lena Gibbs, I’d like to introduce you to Will Graham.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Will.” The man offered a nod in return. “Jack eluded to the fact you’ve had experience with empaths.”

“Quite the opposite actually, I spent some time in London with a man who self-identified as a high-functioning sociopath but it's a very similar skill set the two of you possess.”

“Well…we’ll see about that. I’ll meet you at the car.” Will bristles and collects his coat, just barely brushing shoulders with the woman as he makes his way out.

“He’s a tough nut to crack, but he’ll warm up to you.”

“I’m not worried, Crawford. It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

__

“Mr. Frist and the children killed first, saving Mrs. Frist for last. Same as the Turners.”

“Not exactly the same. Something went wrong.”

“Not a single present under the tree for Mrs. Frist…Are we all not going to acknowledge the Navy Brat in the room?”

“Always a pleasure Bev, the unsub took her presents, he took her motherhood.”

“Shooting her once wasn’t enough. The first bullet, travels beneath her scalp…to its final resting place, base of her neck.”

“Do we know the type of bullet? Trace the bullet, trace the possible gun, trace the killer.”

“No, the shell exploded on impact, what we could piece together wasn’t identifiable,” Price told her passing over a small glass jar with bullet pieces rattling inside.

“Do you mind?” She asked. No one in the room answered so she pulled out her phone and called an often-dialed number.

“Fortress of solitude at your service.”

“Hey, Babygirl can I ask a favor?”

“Anything for my favorite agent”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that. If I send over some photos of an exploded shell do you think you can use the naval ballistics database to piece it together”?

“I’m insulted you even have to ask.”

“You're the best, Garcia”

“I know.”

Turning back to the stunned room full of BSU agents and in Will’s case, an outsourced professor. “I give it thirty, minutes before we know the bullet type. Not that I don’t have faith in you guys but the Marine Corps has the largest database of fragmented shells and an algorithm made by a forensic analyst at NCIS to predict their shatter pattern, that most of the FBI just doesn't have access to.”

“And how do you have access?!” 

“My father,” she answered Zeller before moving back between Jack and WIll. “So who is our additional corpse in the fireplace”?

Will cleared his throat and said “I’d say Connor Frist. He’d been prepped to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer”

“Connor couldn’t put his panic back in the bottle. So he got shot too.

"Whoever shot him…disowned him.”

—

“Garcia got a hit on the ballistics match.”

“C.J. Lincoln disappeared six months before his mother’s murder. He hasn’t been seen since.”

“ He has none of the characteristics of a sadist or a sociopath.”

“Right, no shoplifting, no malicious destruction of property. No assault, no battery. He was kind to animals, for God’s sake.”

“Firearm says we are looking at Peter Pan to our lost boys.”

“ But it takes a sophisticated level of manipulation to convince young boys to kill their families in cold blood.”

“ Kindness to animals doesn’t suggest that particular kind of sophistication.”

“Well, he’s older, he’s been out in the world. Maybe he picked up a few things.”

—

13:00

Will walks through the entrance of Dr. Lecter’s practice holding a gift, he drops it by the foot of Hannibal's desk before moving further into the room.

“Good evening, Will. Please come in. Has Christmas come early? Or late?”

“Was for Abigail”

“Was?”

“I thought better of it, I wasn’t thinking straight, I was upset when I bought it. Maybe still am.”

“What is it?”

“A magnifying glass. Fly-tying gear.”

“Teaching her how to fish. Her father taught her how to hunt.”

“That’s why I thought better of it.”

“Pretty paternal, Will.”

“ Aren’t you?”

“Yes. Our good friend Doctor Bloom has advised against taking too personal an interest in Abigail’s welfare. Tell me why are you so angry?”

“I’m angry about being assigned a partner, I’m angry about those boys, I’m angry because I know when I find them, I can’t help them. I can’t, I can’t give them back what they just gave away.”

“A partner?”

“Yeah, Lena Gibbs. Jack introduced her as a marine though.”

“Fascinating…Tell me did she mention anything about the UK”?

“Yeah, actually. How did you-” Hannibal stood from his position to retrieve his tablet, he typed out a phrase and handed the device to his colleague. “I keep an eye on media around the world,” he said, taking in the man's reaction to the words.

“She was engaged to Sherlock Holmes, I’m sure you heard of him. She and a man by the name of John Watson both contributed to Mr. Holmes’s private detective work, right up until the moment he threw himself from St. Bart's hospital, according to speculation he did do to prevent Ms. Gibbs and others from being attacked by a terrorist known as Moriarty.”

“I didn’t take you as one for speculation, Hannibal.”

“Sometimes it’s a necessary measure when secrets are so heavily guarded.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Who said they were her secrets?”

“Well, that's not vague at all.”

“I’m sure with time, you will come to bond with this new partner. Now tell me more about this ‘murder family.’”

“We call them “The lost boys”.

“Ms. Gibbs is likely lost too. And perhaps it can be our responsibility to help her find her way.”

—

16:00

“Bangor, Maine. Stanford, Connecticut, and recently Reston, Virginia.”

“Right.”

“You’re trying to establish a geographical pattern, when the murders were weeks apart.”

“ Other patterns too. Our shooters are minors middle children from traditional affluent families.”

“ We know they’re moving South, so that means we wanna cover the border of North Carolina and Georgia. We need to get files on every missing boy within two hundred miles of North Carolina.”

“There’s a pattern, less to do with geography than psychology."

“What kind of kid does this?”

"And what kind of kid follows a kid who does this?”

“There’s no indication that these kids came from abusive families.”

“No, no, no. Capture bonding. A passive psychological response to a new master has been an essential survival tool for a million years. Bond with your captor, you survive. You don’t…you’re breakfast.”

—

As the S.W.A.T vans pull into the scene Lena, and Will rush to the home, an agent passes the woman an M-4. She remains behind to steady herself for the shot as the rest rush forward. The eldest boy of the group raises his pistol to his “sibling’s” father, Gibbs pulls the trigger and sends off a round through the teenager's shoulder.

The scene erupts into chaos and the youngest boy runs off toward the pool. She and will chase after him, at the edge of the water the child grabs a pistol of his own aiming it at Will’s chest, 

“Don’t shoot!” Will isn’t only talking to the boy, he’s telling her.

Don’t shoot.

“Chris, wait. Don’t shoot. It’s OK. You’re home now, put the gun down, Christopher.”

His kidnapper emerges from the pool shed, and grabs the boy “Shoot him, Christopher.”

Don’t Shoot

“Christopher, please.”

*BANG*

Will freezes, and the kidnapper drops to the ground his ears ring out slightly as Lena moves to disarm the young boy.

“Chris, buddy are you alright?” Will can’t tell if she's whispering or if his ears are still ringing from the shot. He stands like a statue his gaze on the kidnapper's body, a single round through the middle of the eyes. Efficient, he can’t help himself but think. He doesn't even notice as his partner picks up the child and takes him over to the SUV. It’s not until Beverly taps him on the shoulder he breaks out of his trance.

—

05:00 The next morning

“I seldom have patients that ask to see me at such an early hour”

“Am I burdening your routine Dr. Lecter?” If he didn’t know better he’d think the question naive.

“A friend is never a burden.”

“A friend?”

“Would you like to be, or I could simply be your psychiatrist, someone to who you tell everything?”

“The last person I told everything…Killed himself, Doctor. I don’t think that's a track record you’d want to be a part of.”

“I think you and I both know that’s not why Sherlock did what he did.”

“Are you trying to defend him?”

“No merely seek the truth.”

“He was swayed by an evil hand.”

“Evil is subjective.”

---

“Evil is something that consumes. It digests. The rest of time it waits hungry and unseen waiting for the time to strike.”

Coquille (chapter 2)

[scarlet--wiccan]

What else has David Nakayama done? Also, a bit yikes over the fact that after I commented that Wanda wasn't white on his W*ndavision cover post, he replied with 'Hi. I've explained the situation elsewhere in the comments if you'd like to understand the logistics behind different portrayals of the same character.👍 Understand that trolling gets you nothing and will get you insta-blocked.' Saying that calling out racism is trolling & will get you blocked is a MAJOR MAJOR red flag in my opinion 😬

Oh, I just don't personally care for his art style, especially not the way he draws women. It's just cheesecakey in a way that makes me uncomfortable, but that's mostly superficial, and I don't mean to cast aspersions based in this alone. I really just don't like any of his Scarlet Witch pieces from the last couple years, so I was kind of like, "oh, of course it's you."

You can tell when an artist is trying to be diplomatic vs when they are just dismissing you out of hand, and the response that you received sounds like a dismissal to me. Thinking back to Trial of Magneto, it reminds me of how Mark Brooks responded to feedback of his Pietà cover, which was incredibly dismissive. What's done is done. The bare minimum an artist could do in this situation is say thank you for the information, but doubling down like this is a bad look.

That said, reaching out to industry artists about this stuff can get dicey. If it's work that was done for the company, especially covers, once it's out of the artist's hands, they don't have any control over it and they may feel limited in their ability to engage with criticism. In the past, I've prioritized holding dialogues with artists over DMs, in response to personal work, or on more private platforms like Patreon, because having the specter of Marvel Corporate over their shoulders really, really changes the way people talk. I promise.

I'm not saying that to justify Nakayama's response, I'm saying it because I don't think that fans are always conscientious of how to keep these conversations productive and professional. And it sucks that I even feel like I have to say that, because everybody was right to call this out, but part of what makes the problem of the Scarlet Witch so difficult to resolve is that the discourse about it does get swallowed up by insipid stan war behavior, and that takes credibility away from the actual, important criticisms. Do you know how many times I've sent people essays and presentations about Romani visibility in art history and literature just to be dismissed as an annoying "Wanda stan?" It's infuriating.

I wanted to just ignore this cover as an annoying bit of marketing that has nothing to do with actual book that I am supporting. Part of me still feels that way, but I logged on to twitter today and I saw that @bikenesmith made the very astute observation that this adds fuel active, racist M C U Wanda fanbase. Digging through the tags, I began to see that this one variant cover had reignited all of the hate speech and misinformation had been flying around during Wanda//Vision, and it became more apparent then ever that there are folks who are legitimately mad that Wanda is brown in the book, and were emboldened to act out about it because of this cover. That is what I want everyone to take away from this moment.

[sentimentalscientia]

"Smart money says lucky. Just look at the past five thousand years of recorded human history." There was such cynicism dripping from that statement that even Kelly had to wonder if he did feel contempt for humanity. He certainly did for a portion of it. It was unavoidable with the kind of life he'd had.

And it had been... a life. If his scarred face and voice were a testament to anything, they were a testament to that.

Kelly filled a camp mug--fortunately he'd brought two--and handed it over. All he had was sugar, so if Itsuki wanted milk he was out of luck.

"They know," he said, pouring himself more coffee and wondering again how he'd ended up here. This had been the last thing he'd been expecting when he'd asked for a week off. "Kids notice more than they're given credit for. Probably caught on the second time it happened."

There’s a moment of pause. Hearing that tone absolutely dripping with pessimism and disdain. “Hmm yes, it is important to look at the arching span of history. All the pillaging. The spilled blood. Unending cycles of violence. All the darkness so easy to see. But within every shadow there’s at least a small flicker of candlelight. Look amid the stories of pain and hatred. Look closely and you will find compassion. Assistance. Care. Villagers that lost their homes and livelihoods finding shelter with neighbors. Have you heard of the Irish potato famine? It was a devastating thing. People know now that a lot of the problem was the landlords simply took too much of the food to sell. History shows the greed and apathy. But it also showed generosity and compassion. The Choctaws were a Native American tribe that had just endured the hellish trail of tears. They heard of this famine in another land. These people who had lost so much, endured such suffering. They learned of another’s suffering and started a collection. Giving what little they could gather so that they might stave off the suffering of another people.” The wolf’s voice was soft. “It is also a good thing to remember that every culture that allowed slavery, there were always those that opposed it. Always those that even if they might accept the institution, would insist a slave must still be allowed some dignity.”

The wolf took the mug with a thanks. Sipping the bitter liquid with a smile. While he may have loved the fancier drinks, a dark pure brew on occasion was a treat. A nice reminder of simpler times. “Well there goes my last bit of hope. But at least it means they love me enough to pretend they don’t see my ignorance.” He chuckled softly. “I always try to remind myself of that. Children observing and understanding more than one might expect. One of my grand pups is particularly astute. She doesn’t speak much but she always watches the world. Listens to any word spoken around her. She has a very fascinating gift. If she hears any language, she picks it up instantly. It still takes her time to properly learn it, but if someone speaks it to her she will understand and be able to speak it back after a few sentences. I suspect it’s an inherited gift from her paternal line.” He took another sip of his coffee. “How about you? Do you have any children?”

[elodieunderglass]

See if you can get your hands on “Are Women Human?” by Dorothy Sayers, a contemporary/friend/critic/coworker of CS Lewis, so will provide a lovely foil to your thoughts here. (Despite being a very good friend of CS Lewis, a popular writer, and a theologian at Oxford in her own right, she was NOT included in the Inklings, TOTALLY nothing to do with her being a woman.)

Quote below:

A man once asked me ... how I managed in my books to write such natural conversation between men when they were by themselves. Was I, by any chance, a member of a large, mixed family with a lot of male friends? I replied that, on the contrary, I was an only child and had practically never seen or spoken to any men of my own age till I was about twenty-five. "Well," said the man, "I shouldn't have expected a woman (meaning me) to have been able to make it so convincing." I replied that I had coped with this difficult problem by making my men talk, as far as possible, like ordinary human beings. This aspect of the matter seemed to surprise the other speaker; he said no more, but took it away to chew it over. One of these days it may quite likely occur to him that women, as well as men, when left to themselves, talk very much like human beings also.

Dorothy L. Sayers, Are Women Human? Astute and Witty Essays on the Role of Women in Society

(Nobody should quote George RR Martin’s nearly identical quote “I’ve always considered women to be people” with any pretence at progressiveness without appreciating that Sayers, who was born in the 1880s, wrote this in the 1930s and could write effective male characters having only observed them at a distance.)

Oh. And be aware that when Tolkien and Lewis were writing tiresome Catholic takes on women and theology, they had every opportunity to turn to their coworker, a respected female theologian, for a take or two, and never ever did. It’s easy to perceive them as writing their little regressive agendas in Vacuums of Spacetime and Not Knowing Better, poor little academics were just Products of their time… meanwhile in the office next door a woman is just. Simply contradicting them. With evidence and plain English.

People are scornful when a guy appears to not realize Women Are People until he gets married or has a daughter, but I think this is worth examining a little more closely.

when I read A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis, I was really struck by his observations about gender. i wish I could remember the quote but he says something like, "do you really have a good relationship with your wife if you aren't almost inclined to call her Brother?" a lot of the things he said seemed like a contrast with the more "gender essentialist" ideas he espouses in for example Mere Christianity

And that's the thing, Mere Christianity and most of his well known fictional works were written before he was married, and the thing about a lot of writers we view today as sexist is that they hardly ever interacted with women as peers.

and like, of course someone would have these ideas about the Nature of Women in contrast to men when in their experience, women inhabit different and in many ways mutually unintelligible social worlds than men.

and of course even today many people make friends and acquaintances primarily among their own gender, and are in environments dominated by one gender or the other, and people insist that this is natural or better or more proper, and this allows people to make observations about the "opposite" gender as an outsider that hasn't had many equal-standing "peer" interactions with that gender