#tan's character insights

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #13: Cronia

Full Name: Cronia Dolores Wiltflower Gender: Female (she/her) Race: Forsaken Class: Druid Specialization: Death Orientation: Pansexual Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 47 (26 at death) Height: 5'4 Voice reference: In-game female Forsaken player Theme: Angry Too - Lola Blanc

[BACKSTORY]

Cronia Wiltflower was born in Lordaeron four years before the opening of the Dark Portal. To those knowledgeable, they would understand that this is a very poor timeframe to be born into Azeroth. Cronia was exposed to the horrors of war very early into her life, as the orcs came charging through and clashed with those of her own kind. She was only ten when the Alliance Internment Act was passed, beginning to force orcs into internment camps in which they were abused, mistreated and starved. Cronia was always a rather empathetic soul and did not see the necessity in such acts, and as she grew into a teenager, her anger against these camps began to blossom. The orcish people were just that; a people. People, like her and everyone around her, though there was little she could do. As she grew into a young woman her spite against the Alliance only festered further, and she frequently left the city and her family to spend time in the woods instead, discovering a land her fellow Humans had grown unattached to. She planted flowers here and tended to nature to calm her nerves before returning to her city, where she'd spend any evening free time roaming the streets and spray-painting her disdain for the active internment camps on any surface she could get away with. She was disinterested in most of her society, only really becoming close with a friend that would be later known as the Ringmaster. Regardless, the first two and a half decades of Cronia's life were rather uneventful, except for the orcs escaping and creating a New Horde. She kept her sympathizing sentiments to herself, but truthfully, she was happy they had found a home for themselves outside of the internment camps.

Twenty-two years after the opening of the dark portal, however, is when Cronia's life--or unlife--changed forever. Arthas Menethil and his scourged forces attacked Lordaeron, plaguing the city and its citizens forever. Cronia's parents were not raised into undeath and remained dead under the rubble of the forgotten city. However, their daughter shared a different fate, and awoke as a Forsaken.

The Forsaken united under Dark Lady and former Ranger General Sylvanas Windrunner and took up their home in the sewers of their old city, now dubbed "Undercity." Their former Alliance brethren in neighboring kingdoms of Humans rejected them, calling them hideous monsters of the Scourge. So, they joined the Horde. Cronia admittedly quite liked the Horde much better than the Alliance--they were a collection of misfit races, brought together by their will to survive on this planet, and they were much less uptight, too. The other Forsaken, though.. Cronia still held disdain for from their time as Lordaeronians. So, again, she took to the woods to take breathers from her society, and, even in undeath, rediscovered her deep love for nature.

So, she studied. She studied and studied and worked and worked, and for ten years she sought to overcome her condition's separation from the natural order. What naysayers said was true. One overcome by such a plagued magic, in such a rotten state, could not make flowers bloom. She saw plants wilt before her and wither in her grasp. But she was determined.

And then she heard the news. That an old society deep in the lands of Kul Tiras named the Drust had been rediscovered. Their druidic ways focused on the end of the life cycle. Truly, death was just as essential to an ecosystem as life. So Cronia stopped trying to make flowers bloom. She stopped trying to grow the earth before her, and instead, she reoriented her vision, and surely enough the land responded to her touch. Trees cracked and groaned with age. Shrubs shriveled and died. She accomplished animalistic forms, however they were all decayed and rotting. Her rot would serve to feed the plants that would come after, and she mastered the art of death druidism.

[THOUGHTS]

Cronia is another one of those characters that actually has yet to be on-screen but I super love her concept! She's my rebellious death druid gal and I love her lmao. Hope it was a fun read! <3

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am part iii

trope: Boyfriend's DadPP character: Joel Miller x f reader / Shawn Miller x f reader chapter summary: A family ATV trips proves to be insightful when you get paired up with Joel.

series masterlist

sorry i was gone its been a long few months but i have an update so i hope you stick around and reblog and review and all that good shit. - IEWF

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, fantasy cumming, lotsa guilt, public cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 3.8 taglist: @lady-viscera | @cjdign | @fuckthatbazinga | @liciafonseca | @stevie75 | @joelalorian | @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff | @akah565 | @dontknow446 | @pedritosgfreal | @yesjazzywazzylove-blog | @untamedheart81 | @ashleyfilm | @sptbear | @elegantduckturtle | @noneofmyshipsarereal | @blahkateisdone | @hisandsnakes | @wintersquirrel | @shivkillian | @sheepdogchick3 | @moel-jiller | @cuteanimalmama | @gossipgirl-03 | @cowboymarcs | @tahi2006 | @guelyury | @churchofjoemiller | @r3dheadedwitch | @tutarrads | @galway-girlatwork | @supertoga

part iii : hit the road

My heart tells me this is the best and greatest feeling I have ever had. But my mind knows the difference between wanting what you can’t have and wanting what you shouldn’t want. And I shouldn’t want you. — Cassandra Clare

It's early and the sun is bleeding into your room. Shawn is on his belly with one arm slung over the pinch of your waist. He's snoring quietly. You watch him for a moment, stroking a hand over his cheek lightly. 

The guilt is there, as it has been since that first night. But as with all things, the longer you live with it, the less power it seems to hold. You can't get back to sleep. It's that awkward time between morning and night where the sky is slowly brightening but everything is dewy and cold. Maybe you'll just get a glass of water. That might help. 

You walk into the kitchen, blinking at the light over the stove. You suppress a gasp when you realize Joel is there with his shoulders tensed and looking inside the fridge for a snack. He faces away from you in a well-worn cotton t-shirt and boxers that mould to his tight ass. His dark hair is mussed from sleep and you feel your pussy pound. 

He hears your footsteps and turns to look over his shoulder. He feels his tummy tighten when he sees you sleepy and sweet looking. 

"Just needed a water," you tell him.

He watches you nibble your lower lip."Lemme get it for you." He moves towards the sink.

"No it's fine.” You want to get away from him quickly. You take one of the glasses from earlier, holding it under the tap opposite you on the island. 

Joel watches you clumsily attempt to twist the knob and he gives a huff of amusement. He walks over, grabbing a glass from the cupboard above. When he does you see a sliver of his tanned belly exposed. 

"Give it here," he says in a voice husky with sleep. He holds out his hand and you give him your glass. "Here," he says handing over the full glass to you. He drinks his own, suddenly thirsty. He watches you sip yours and doesn't overlook the pink to your cheeks. 

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No. You?"

"Got hungry," he laughs quietly, not wanting to wake Shawn. "On vacation calories don't count right?" 

You give him a crooked smile at the lame joke. A sense of familiarity is there in the kitchen now. The realization that things can go back to normal. You across the island to him with one hand resting on the cool granite. 

"I sure hope not. I really want to demolish the buffet tomorrow." 

Joel smiles and the sight makes you go to say something else funny, motioning with your water glass and splashing it over your chest in the process. At the feeling of the chilled water down your shirt you suddenly drop the glass. You watch it slip from your fingers, smashing onto the countertop and splitting into several shards. 

"Fuck," you whisper. Water splashes down your front, making the already thin fabric go sheer. 

Your nipples pinch and pucker, completely exposed by the water that's slipped down your shirt. You realize it when Joel's eyes go wide, watching your heaving chest. He grips his own glass so tightly his knuckles go pale. 

"You should go back to bed." 

Something in his voice feels dangerous. Like if you don't leave now there's bound to be terrible trouble. 

"But the glass----"

"I'll take care of it." 

You nod, wrapping your hands over your chest and scrambling back to bed. Joel watches you go feeling his pulsing cock ache as you leave. Your tits are fucking perfect. He could see them plain as day through the sheer fabric. It's almost like you wanted him to see them. 

Tess is an incredibly beautiful woman, that's the first thing you notice when she walks into the unit. She's svelte, graceful when she walks and when she smiles and introduces herself you see her teeth are perfect. 

'I've heard so much about you from Joel and Shawn," Tess grins. 

"Same here," you lie. 

The group decides to have breakfast together in the dining room at the resort, Shawn laces his fingers with yours, chatting to you as you all walk over. You nod, barely listening. You're too focused on Joel and Tess walking in front of you. 

You watch Joel's arm go around her waist, grinning at her proudly as she says something to make him laugh. He wants to show her off. Why does that upset you so much? The four of you find an empty table decorated with soft linens and beautiful Hawaiian flowers. When the food arrives Joel and Shawn are chatting about ATVing and Tess has turned her attention to you. 

"Your parents were fine with you coming to Hawaii for Christmas?"

"Yeah, they know how much I want to travel."

"Do you not travel much?"

You don't miss the way Joel's eyes dart from you to Tess, half listening to what you're saying as Shawn talks his ear off. 

"Naw, I didn't grow up with money," you say shrugging. "This trip is actually the first time I've ever been on a plane."

"That's why I'm always telling Ellie to get out and explore the world," Tess says sipping her coffee. "But she's such a homebody."

"Ellie?"

"My daughter. She's about your age," Tess says pointing at you, "she works as an art teacher." 

"She didn't want to come with you for the week?"

"Nah, she's celebrating Christmas with her girlfriend's family. She asked me and I couldn't say no," she looks a little sad. "I think that's why Joel invited me along to this, he knew I'd be lonely." 

"I invited you cause I wanted you here," Joel corrects. "And Ellie's welcome to join us later if she changes her mind. Her and her girlfriend."

"Thanks, Texas," Tess says. The two of them share a secret smile and you try to focus your breathing. 

"You were okay with your daughter being. . . You know?" Shawn asks, his eyes wide. 

Sometimes you forget that Shawn doesn't have much experience outside his own limited friend group that he's had since middle school. Meatheads who love football and camping trips, who drool over the Dallas cowboy cheerleaders and smash beer cans when they finish them at parties. Thankfully Tess doesn't look offended.

 "I'm just happy she's happy." 

Shawn falls silent, looking at his plate. It's like he just realized the inappropriateness of his question. You look over at Joel, curious to find him already looking at you over his coffee cup. When he catches your eyes he quickly darts his away. 

"So I hear we're ATVing, today," Tess says after a beat. 

"Thought you'd like that darlin'," Joel says with his arm on the back of her chair. "I know how much you liked it during that conference in Utah."

"Good memory," Tess says with a sweet smirk. 

"Lotsa good memories on that trip," Joel adds quietly with a wink. 

"I'll say."

You hold your breath when Tess moves her face to Joel, kissing him. His eyes fall closed as he returns the kiss. Your eyes fly to your plate, feeling your heart beat furiously. On the walk back to the rooms Shawn pulls you into his arms, kissing your neck as you shriek laugh, your legs flying around as you grip his neck. 

"I'm so excited to be here with you." 

You feel like the luckiest girl in the world right at that moment. You press a kiss to his lips.

"Same here." 

Joel catches sight of you laughing as Shawn twirls you around. You grip onto him and Joel feels his chest tighten when he sees the curve of your ass poking out the bottom of your shorts. Fuck it looks good. The kind of ass he wants to sink his teeth into. The kind he wants to fuck. Would you let him? 

"You okay, Texas?"

Joel looks over at Tess under his arm, seeing her smirking at him. 

"Hard to watch your kids grow up." 

"Yeah." Joel can only watch from behind his sunglasses as his son twirls you along the sand. "It's real hard." 

It feels like a delicate dance of avoidance and embarrassment. Thankfully now Tess and Shawn are both there meaning you and Joel barely have to interact. At the Jurassic Ranch Joel goes to pay for everyone, indicating the different tracks. Tess leans comfortably against him pointing at a bumpy looking three hour trail. 

"I wanna do the Volcano Ridge."

"Me too," Shawn nods excitedly from beside you. "That's the one I had circled."

You roll your eyes to yourself. Shawn didn't even ask you what you wanted to do. You would have told him that lava fields didn't interest you. 

"Shawn maybe we could do the shoreline one?" You murmur, pointing at the hour long tail through bucolic grassland along the water. Joel winces, looking at the brochure Tess has handed him, seeing the terrain. His back is already aching and this looks like torture. 

"I don't think my back's up for that, baby."

Tess looks disappointed and he feels bad. He doesn't like to say no to the women he cares about. 

"I'll take her," Shawn offers. He points at you. "My girl wants an easier ride anyway dad so that actually works out perfect. She can go with you."

You and Joel cast stricken looks at one another but Tess is already nodding, grinning over at Joel. 

"Whadda ya say, Texas?"

Joel smiles that familiar confident way of his. The smile he reserves for shareholders and annoying staff. One he's never had to use with family until now. 

"Sounds like a plan to me." 

Minutes later Shawn and Tess take off in their ATV with a wave and a cheerful see ya as you and Joel sit awkwardly next to one another in your own ATV. 

Joel's fingers tighten around the wheel as he looks at you fighting to keep his smile calm. 

"Ready?"

You nod a little nervously. Even though you've both talked things out there's a lingering tension between the two of you. It was there at breakfast as you both kept your eyes on your plates or partners. It was there as Joel brushed by you when he went to pay for everyone at the ATV hut. And it's here now as you squash together in the ATV, elbows grazing as you both buckle in. The helmets are embarrassing but at least they distract from your blushing cheeks. 

Joel is a good driver, the lesson is brief before he's flooring it and the vehicle goes careening off towards the lush greenery. 

Your tits jump as Joel barrels over the hill. He pretends not to notice, but he can feel himself thickening under his shorts. You're obviously braless. Did you do that on purpose just to tease him? 

"Hold on," he tells you as the vehicle splashes through a puddle, sending sprays of water over your faces. 

You give a shriek, laughing as both of your shirts are soaked. 

Joel sees from the corner of his eyes how your nipples tighten, poking through your thin shirt, just like the other night. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from getting harder. You feel insecure when you notice your breasts bouncing under your soaked shirt. You'd thought going braless would be a fun thing for you and Shawn. You didn't know you'd be with his dad. You cross your arms over your chest. Eventually after driving in silence you spot a gorgeous lookout as you approach the bend. You jerk up in your seat, eyes wide. 

"Oh wait, can we stop? Can you go around there?"

Joel grunts the affirmative before pulling off to the side of the deserted stretch of land, hidden in the trees. 

"Thank you," you tell him politely as the engine is cut. Calming silence greets you both. You both remove your helmets, letting them fall into the back. 

Hawaii is always beautiful but something fragrant is in the air today and the ocean is misting over your cheeks.

"It's really pretty out here," you sigh, gazing at the landscape in front of you. "So relaxing."

"Yeah, it is," Joel agrees. "Sometimes I forget there's a world outside of the office."

"Really?" 

Joel nods, shifting in his seat to face you. He watches your face curve back to the water and he lets his eyes wander down your body. He sees the buds of your nipples are still hard and he exhales slowly.

"I wanna get a photo," you tell him. 

You want a photo to commemorate this moment. Even if Shawn is annoying you, even if Joel is making you feel weird. You take off your belt and turn in your seat to take a photo with your phone and Joel has to force himself to look away because your shorts have ridden up in the process.

He hears the snap on your phone, eyes flying back when you shift to get another angle and those shorts ride higher. You're tilting out of the side of the ATV and in true concern his large hand goes to grip your knee, holding you in place. 

"Careful," Joel murmurs. 

You immediately go stiff at the contact. Perhaps if nothing had ever happened between the two of you it would have felt like the instinctual actions of a parent. But after the other night it feels much heavier. 

Your eyes are on his large hand still gripping your knee, noticing how warm it is. You can't stop watching as his grip loosens, waiting for you to pull back. 

"I-I am going to go take a photo of the mountains," you squeak. You push open the door, fleeing from him. "Um I'll be right back." 

"Good. Good idea, I'll just uh be here." 

Joel cringes at how pathetic he sounds. You practically skip away from the ATV and he sinks down in the seat, humiliated because he's now hard. Hard for his son's girlfriend.

He closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples. He can't understand what's happening to him right now. Tess is here, he shouldn't still be feeling fucked up over you. He made sure not to touch himself after he saw your wet breasts and he made sure to turn all his attention to Tess. So why is he still thinking about you? 

"Ready to go."

You pull yourself back into the vehicle, your breathing tight and shallow. You look a little more at ease, tilting the phone to show him your photo of the ocean. 

"That's real nice," he affords you barely looking at the screen. You grin over at him and Joel notices the way his heart trips all over itself. 

"Okay, let's go," Joel says and instinctively his hand goes to pat your thigh, a sweet display of comfort. But he can't find it in himself to pull away. Joel can't stop touching you. You're so warm and soft and smooth and above all you're so forbidden. 

You both stare at his hand laying heavily there on your thigh. Both sets of eyes following as it slides slowly up your smooth flesh until his pinky slips under the hem of your jean shorts, gently rubbing back and forth. 

"What are you doing?"

"Dunno," Joel replies as if in a daze. 

His finger slowly begins to slide up further beneath the denim material, brushing against the crease of your thigh. You shiver. He's so close to where you ache and where your panties dampen. 

Your legs part as his fingers inch closer to your slit while your pussy pulses with its own heartbeat. Joel is silent, simply watching as his fingers slide beneath your shorts, his breath labored when his forefinger grazes the side of your labia. You twitch away from him as the reality of what's happening hits you. 

"No."

He started it and you're clearly finishing it. This isn't something that can happen. You can't come back from this. Joel Miller isn't used to being told no. He's got a successful company, he's never had issues finding women to fuck and he knows he's got the confidence of a man that closes deals. His fingers move to drag over your center, feeling the damp cotton sticking to your lips as he lightly traces the seam of your cunt. 

"Feels like you want this."

"I---I don't." 

He withdraws his hand from under the hem of your jean shorts and you visibly relax, even though there's a part of you that knows how wrong it would have been to continue. But then he tugs at the waist of your shorts and he can feel your inhibitions loosening. 

"Get in my lap." 

The order is low and gravelly. You gaze into his face and you see the blown out pupils and his wetted lips. Your eyes stay on his plump lips. You allow him to pull you into his lap with your legs straddling him and you can feel your body giving in even as your voice goes plaintive. 

"We can't do this."

"Already doin' it," he murmurs with his eyes stuck on where he nudges against you. You're warm through the fabric of his shorts. 

You groan to yourself half aroused-half defeated as you grind your pussy against the hard cock of your boyfriend's father. 

"Nothing wrong," Joel groans, curving his hips to bump against yours. "We're not even touchin' each other."

He knows you could point out that while your hands are being kept to yourselves, your clothed genitals are getting more than a little friendly. But he can tell you want to believe it. There's nothing wrong here. 

"Just a little friction," you offer in a breathy voice and he watches the way you start to give in. 

"That's it," Joel hisses. "Just a little friction. And it feels good, don't it?"

"Yeah," you nod, your crotch pressing harder against his. "Really good."

"Let's just keep goin' for a bit," Joel says, tilting back in his seat. "Nothin' wrong with that." 

Nothing is wrong about what you're doing together. He says it and he thinks you believe it until his meaty paws come to grab your ass pressing you harder onto his length. 

"No touching," you remind him, bouncing lightly as you both chase your high. It feels so close, so in reach. 

"Over the clothes is okay," Joel insists, his cock leaking into his boxers. "You just keep going, baby girl." 

"S'bad, Joel," you slur.

"I know, honey," Joel drawls syrupy sweet. "But doesn't it make you feel good bein' a little bad?"

His hands move to your breasts, cupping them through the fabric as he worries the nipples. They're just as soft and perky as he imagined they would be. 

You give a whine of protestation even as you bump against him. Joel can't stop imagining what your tits look like. He knows they're full and perfect like this and before he can stop himself he's tugging your shirt down, exposing them.You go to stop, to cover your chest in embarrassment but Joel grips both your wrists in his hands, holding them on either side of your hips. You sit there, tits out and nipples hard. You breathe heavily, staring down at him. 

"Joel---"

"Just lookin'," he insists while his voice drops another register, his hips shifting you up and down. "Not touchin'."

"Shouldn't be looking," you insist even as your pussy grinds harder against his throbbing cock. 

"You want me to look, you wanted me to see ‘em last night," Joel grunts, his knees starting to urge you up and down on his lap. "Bounce 'em for me."

You begin to bounce in his lap, your tits jiggling sinfully for him. "Yea yea just like that," Joel groans hungrily. His breathing is getting real tight. "Oh fuck, baby girl, just like that."

True to his word he doesn't touch your breasts, but he does watch them bounce as you grind your pussy against his length. But Joel's mind is an ongoing stream of doubts and desires. 

This is bad this is so fucking bad she's your son's girlfriend she's half your age look at her fucking body fuck she's so goddam good shouldn't be touching her think of Tess how good she is to you shouldn't be getting hard for this girl shouldn't wanna cum inside her

His eyes move only when you cry out, and he sees the way your eyes roll back. Your hips roll as you begin to cum, your body so fucking delicious as you give yourself over to the sinful sensation of cumming on your boyfriend's father.  

"Cum hard for me." 

You whine, brows coming to meet as your neck is thrown back, your breasts bouncing gently as you complete.

"Fuck fuck," Joel gasps out, rutting against you, his eyes shut as you throw your head back, riding your orgasm. 

"This is so wrong," you cry out but for some reason that makes it feel so much better for him. 

Moments pass before the two of you steady your breathing. You look at him under heavy lids, your body sagging forward. Joel licks his dried lips, eyes roving your body. Possessiveness weaves itself through his body. 

"My son ever make you cum without touchin' you?"

“I’m back!”

Joel jerks awake when he hears the sound of the ATV door slam. He blinks awake to see you smiling and crawling in next to him. He blinks away the sleep from his eyes to realize it was a dream. 

"Sorry I was gone for so long," you say watching him sleepily look at you as you settle next to him. 

"That's'okay," he replies groggily. 

He doesn't notice that you scan his crotch as you pull on your seatbelt or that your eyes go round and owlish when you are that Joel's hard and thick beneath his shorts. And he's fucking huge. 

You want him in your mouth. You want the salty tang of his pre-cum on your tongue. You want your lips straining to take his thick cock. Then you feel shame go through your body. This is Shawns dad. What the fuck is going on in your head? You're completely disgusting. 

Joel starts the ATV up and the sound of the engine thankfully kills the stunned silence.Joel swallows and looks at you from the corner of his eyes. You look chagrined staring straight ahead of you and he doesn't understand what he did wrong. 

Joel feels like he's going to be sick as the dream comes back to him in waves. Your body and tits bouncing, your need for him so obvious. When Joel glances down and sees that he's hard he can barely keep the red from his face. He tries to maneuver his hips so that his cock isn't visible through his shorts. 

The two of you are completely mute the entire way back to the rental garage with the knowledge that things have irreparably changed.

[projectjasper]

the interesting thing about we are is that i believe it's the first bl i've ever seen that truly has one main character. there is a reason why phuwin is the most overworked of them all and why he jokingly complained about the fact that pond wasn't suffering nearly as much as he was, even though he is his on-screen partner. and there is a reason why phuwin said that peem is also the audience in a way because he kind of gets to witness and react to almost everything that happens in the series.

the world of we are is built around peem: it's him and his boyfriend and his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend and the rest of his friends and also his boyfriend's friends. even the things that are seemingly not connected to peem in a particularly direct way are still somehow influenced by him or perceived by him, e.g. tanfang happens because phum agrees to help tan hit on fang in return for meeting up with peem, and then when tan spills the beans about them dating, peem's reaction is centered slightly more than anyone else's, even though there are people who are closer to fang and similarly close to tan in that scene. and though we get insight into phum's life too, for instance, that still somehow circles back to peem, e.g. most phumfang scenes are them literally discussing peem or talking about their parents, which still comes back to phumpeem, as phum's family problems have a huge effect on the boys' relationship.

peem is the sun of the show, and the rest are planets revolving around him or moons of the planets revolving around him in one way or another.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

the librarian

logan howlett x latina!reader

summary: after the events of logan (2017), in a world where logan survives, he and laura move to a small town to start a new life. laura quickly becomes very attached to the librarian, and seeing you with his daughter makes logan fall hard.

warnings: swearing, insecurity on logan's part, potentially slightly out of character but i’m choosing to believe that logan softens up a bit after laura

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written so please be kind because it took a lot of time. my first language is not english, so please do not be rude when offering feedback. i am also not latina, so feel free to offer constructive criticism if you notice anything wrong in the fic.

special thank you to @raeinyourdreams for the spanish dialogue.

series masterlist - my masterlist

you love your job. the library is quiet, peaceful, and you spend every day surrounded by your favourite thing: books. those who come to the library are typically kind, hardly do you have to deal with rude comments or entitled behaviour. you get to plan fun events for the towns kids and toddlers to introduce them to the joys of reading. and on every school day, between 3:00 and 4:00 pm, you get to see laura howlett.

the first time she came into the library, it wasn’t planned. you live in a small town, with an even smaller school, and when laura’s dad failed to show up on time to pick her up, she was sent over to the library next door. she’d stomped through the automatic doors, her small frame tense with irritation, her jaw clenched, slamming her bag down on the ground beside her as she sat down at one of the small circular tables set up in a corner of the small building.

she crossed her arms and stared at the door as if her dad might finally show up if she thought about it hard enough, never sparing you a second glance. so you’d left her alone to stew in her rage, putting away books from the return pile, glancing at the clock every few minutes.

you couldn’t hide your staring when her (extremely attractive) dad finally showed up, heavy footfalls crossing the doorstep and thick, tanned biceps filling your vision. laura cursed at him in rapid spanish, and he grumbled that he didn’t understand a word she was saying. you giggled to yourself at the thought that you never would have gotten away with using such language at her age.

the next time you saw her was a week later, and this time, despite her heavy glare and intense ‘don’t talk to me’ attitude, you approached her. her gaze was suspicious and distrusting as you spoke, asking her in your native tongue if she wanted a book to read while she waited. she’d stared at you for a long minute before saying, “¿hablas español?”

she slowly opened up to you after that, like a flower blossoming in the springtime, short sentences turning into longer rants, into admittance of her inner thoughts and worries and struggles. you give her book recommendations that are popular within her age group and help her with her homework when she struggles with the material, translating words she doesn't understand perfectly. in return, she tells you about her school and home life, about how she’d moved here with her dad, about how she’s only really known him a few months.

you don’t know her past, only the glimpses she’s given you here and there, anecdotes she drops into conversations before changing the subject just as quickly, but you know that she’s struggled with adjusting to all the changes in her life. you’re grateful that she’s allowed you such insight into her mind, that you can help her even in small ways. you can’t help it - she’s wormed her way into your heart, with her quick quips and short temper and snide comments.

“¿crees que mi papá es guapo?” she asks you suddenly. it’s an evening like any other, the two of you working through her science homework together. you choke on your saliva as an image of logan howlett flashes through your mind, his stern face and the hard intensity of his eyes, his large stature and broad back that you always watch, entranced, when he walks out of the library with laura in tow.

“¿por qué preguntas?” you ask her instead of answering as you erase a mistake on her paper, blowing away the leftover scraps the eraser leaves behind.

“las mamás de thea estaban hablando de lo guapo que es.” laura replies, a grimace twisting her face. her eyes narrow as she observes your carefully blank expression. “¿tu opinas igual?”

you shake your head, clacking your tongue against your teeth, “mejor concéntrate en tu tarea.”

the howletts live two houses down from you, on a street of mismatched suburban houses and carefully manicured lawns. sometimes you’ll see logan outside, smoking a cigar on the porch in a thin wife-beater that shows off his large arms, watchful gaze observing the neighbourhood as though surveying the area for potential threats. 

he seems oblivious to the stares he receives from both women and men passing by, walking their dogs or going for a jog, faltering when they pass his house, interest and attraction and jealousy, staring for a few moments too long to be casual. he never gives any of them the time of day, doesn’t respond to their small-talk questions or smiles. his frown just deepens, putting emphasis on the lines that mark his face, a physical manifestation of a life of constant worry and pain.

you’re admiring him from afar as you often do, peering through the window above your sink as you rinse your dishes, when you notice a gorgeous woman approaching his house. she’s all long legs and glowing dark skin, walking right up to him with all the confidence in the world.

and logan howlett, the brooding, mysterious man who keeps to himself and hardly interacts with anyone unless absolutely necessary, smiles at her. it’s a barely-there expression, a softening of his usual gruff persona and resting bitch face, but you notice it nonetheless. the woman is clearly emboldened by his response and leans into his space as she speaks, pressing a hand to his bicep, skin against skin, mouth moving in words you can’t hear.

you look away, pulling the curtains closed on the window, preferring to watch the pale fabric sway slightly than whatever interaction is happening there. you scrub your dishes a little harder than necessary after that, but no one is there to see it but you.

laura packs up her bag, shoving the papers inside randomly, no reason or order to it. you grit your teeth at the thought of how wrinkled and disorganised it’ll all be later, when she needs to find something specific or when it comes time to hand in her work to her teacher, but you keep your mouth diligently shut, because if there’s one thing you know about laura, it’s that she’s stubborn and temperamental and doesn’t take well to criticism.

logan stands beside the front desk, not far from where you’re flipping through the pile of books that had been returned while you were busy with laura, his hands on his hips as he watches her somehow both rush through the task and simultaneously take much too long to complete it. there’s obvious adoration in his eyes, a fondness that can’t be faked by the best of actors.

“do you-,” he starts, stops, an unfinished question that lasts a few seconds while he chases the right words, “laura really likes havin’ you around. talks about you a lot when you’re gone. so i - uh - wanted to invite you over to dinner. no pressure.”

you beam, books all but forgotten, “really?”

he grunts in response, shrugging. it’s not much as far as responses go, not terribly enthusiastic, but he wouldn’t have brought it up to you if he was against the idea, you assume. so you place a hand on his arm, more for your sake than his, enjoying the feeling of his sun-warmed skin and the smooth dark hair against your fingertips, catching his attention so his eyes fall on you instead of laura.

you think of the woman you’d seen speaking to him a few days ago, and a thrill runs through you, a stupidly possessive thrill that you have no right to feel. there’s nothing going on between you and logan, just mutual care for a troubled girl who hasn’t made any friends in school even after weeks.

this is for her, you tell yourself. to make sure she has a support system, people she trusts, to hopefully get her to open herself up to the possibility of other relationships, friendships with children her age who can help her learn what it means to let go and be a child for a bit. but in your mind, there’s still a rather large part of you preening at the fact that you’re going to have dinner at the howlett’s, and you bet that other woman can’t say the same.

“just let me know when,” you say, “i’m not typically very busy so whatever works on your schedule.”

“¿podría ser hoy?” laura asks, bounding up to the two of you, “porfis.”

you can’t say no to her wide eyes and hopeful smile, so you close up the library early. it’s fine, you live in a small town and no one ever really visits the library late at night anyway. the only person who may want to visit has her own key, a copy you’d made after finding the same teenage girl sleeping on the floor of the library six days in a row, having broken into the building each time.

it’s a short walk to the howlett’s house, laura talking your ear off the entire way there, ignoring the looks logan shoots her when she inevitably switches into spanish seemingly without noticing. but you know what it’s like to speak more than one language, you know the way conversations flit in and out between languages, and you can tell it’s often purposeful, done to get a rise out of logan.

“it’s good that you can understand her,” logan says as he unlocks the front door, his daughter running into the house and leaving the two of you behind, “i can’t, half the time. probably makes me sound like a shit dad.”

“it doesn’t,” you assure him, “laura talks about you all the time when you’re not around and she thinks you’re wonderful. she said you’ve only been in her life a few months? you can’t be expected to learn a whole language in that time.”

logan ignores your praise just as you’d expected him to do, “i think you remind her of home. it was fucked up but there were good parts. and i took her away from there. i did it for her but she still had to leave everythin’ and everyone she knew.”

“i’ll gladly be that piece of home if she needs it,” you say softly, “you got her out of a bad place. i don’t know much but i know that. her home is wherever you are.”

talking to logan is frighteningly easy, and the conversation continues as he heads into the kitchen. their house is nice, clean but sparsely decorated, not the artfully minimalist look of a magazine cover but rather the home of someone who never really knew how to settle down, how to allow a place to become more than just a shell, a temporary refuge to eventually be left behind. it screams logan, and makes you wonder what exactly he’s been through. 

but laura’s things are strewn around the place, a jacket of hers thrown on the couch, comic books that have seen better days piled on the coffee table, school papers on the countertop. it chases away the cold feeling that would otherwise linger between these walls.

you help logan cook, not willing to stand around doing nothing while you wait for the food to be ready. you admit to him that you’re surprised at his talent in the kitchen, and for a moment his jaw tenses like he’s going to tell you something difficult but he doesn’t. his arm brushes against yours as you hand him the spices that he requests, and goosebumps raise on your arms at the feeling.

laura eats like she hasn’t had food in days, and says the meal tastes better because you helped make it, which makes you laugh and logan roll his eyes. chiding laura on her table manners reminds you of your childhood, and an image flashes in your mind, unbidden, of you in this very same setting but as laura’s mother and logan’s wife.

it’s a vision you push away, one you’ll allow to linger as you’re falling asleep but that has no place in your thoughts now.

“next time we should do this at my house,” you comment, without really thinking over your words, your attention on laura and logan’s hand that lingers close to your thigh under the table, not touching you but present enough to offer a good distraction, “to make things fair, i mean.”

“next time?” logan repeats, and you falter, realising what you’d offered. there’s a familiarity in the way you’d made the offer, a throwaway comment, a familiarity that doesn’t exist between you and logan - at least not yet.

“if you’d want,” you offer slowly, “and if laura wants. i just - had fun tonight. it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to do it again.”

and you do. approximately once a week you start to have dinner with the howletts, switching between their place and yours. they’re a familiar presence in your life now, enough that you don’t startle when one of them sneaks up behind you, impossibly light on their feet, the stealth of hunters stalking their prey. you’d told this to logan and he’d raised an eyebrow at you and smirked but refused to explain his reaction to your words.

you start to teach logan recipes from your childhood, the sweet spices and flavours that bring you back to being laura’s age filling the kitchen. you argue with logan about not needing a recipe, saying you just know when it’s right.

though she never comments on it, you see the way laura’s smile brightens every time you place a dish on the table. you hope it brings her a modicum of comfort, reminds her of her place of birth the way it always does for you.

you haven’t felt so free in a long time, and you come to the belated realisation that you’ve been lonely lately, something you can only differentiate now that you feel it shifting. you love your friends but they have busy lives of their own, and you love your library but books can’t compensate for human contact, try as you might. 

“te noto estresada,” laura comments, poking your hand when you stare off into space for the third time that day.

“lo estoy,” you respond, “se averió una tubería y ahora tengo que llamar al plomero, pero no quiero..”

most kids wouldn’t care to have a conversation about these more monotonous, adult subjects, but laura pauses in her homework to give it a genuine reflection. she taps the eraser-end of her pencil against the table, nodding to herself like she’s just come up with an obvious solution.

“no tienes que. mi papá sabe reparar cosas,” she says, “pídele el favor.”

you hate to take advice from a child, even if that child is laura, who often acts much older than her age, and you hate to bother logan even more, but you don’t make much as a librarian and if there’s any way to save some extra money, you’re willing to embarrass yourself in front of the hot man you may have a slight crush on. 

you broach the topic when he comes to pick her up as usual, and to your surprise, he agrees easily. you don’t even have to ask the question, as soon as he’s heard the problem he’s offering up his help.

he shows up at your house later that night, deeming it fine to leave laura home alone since there’s only a 40% chance she’ll break something. he’s dressed in only a thin wife-beater, biceps on full display as he hunches under your sink, the muscles in his back flexing as he works. you stay in the kitchen, using the excuse that you should make sure he’s not making it worse, but spend the entire time staring at the shape of him, large and broad and everything you want.

“thank you,” you tell him when he’s finished, handing him a beer that you’d bought specifically for when he showed up at your place.

“no problem,” he says, shrugging, not making eye contact with you in a way that’s uncharacteristic of him, “no point havin’ you pay someone to do it when i can do it just fine.”

“but you had no obligation to help me,” you remind him softly.

“you help me all the time,” he responds gruffly, “you deal with laura’s shit and don’t complain. you spend time with us even if you got your own life to worry about. it’s only fair.”

you frown at that, “i enjoy spending time with you, logan. it’s not a favour of some kind that you have to repay.”

he grunts an acknowledgement that you don’t quite believe, quiet as he finishes the rest of his beer, and then he’s gone.

it’s hard not to know everyone in a small town, forcing you to make polite small talk with people you walk by who ask about your life and your family and friends and how’s your job going? it’s frustrating, one of the reasons you plan your errands for later in the evening, when the crowds are thinner and most of the people in the grocery store are people like you, who don’t want to be bothered, and teenagers wreaking havoc in the aisles.

you’re looking at fruit when you hear someone call your name, a voice that’s not immediately familiar, which raises alarm bells in your mind, the sound crescendoing into a siren as the click-clack of heels approaches. you resolutely keep your eyes in front of you, hoping that if you look very busy choosing avocados, perhaps you won’t be bothered.

this technique fails immediately, a woman coming up to your side and picking up the avocado you’d just put back, squeezing it to check if it’s ripe. the act is innocent, trying to put you at ease, but you know better. if she was just here to grab groceries she wouldn’t have called out your name, wouldn’t be tilting her head towards you with a saccharine smile.

you’ve seen her around, though you can’t remember her name, an older woman with two boys whose divorce was the talk of the town for a few months last year. from afar she appears put-together, dressed in business-casual attire indicating that she hadn’t had the time to change from her work clothes, blonde hair slicked back into a bun. but up close you can see the strands of hair that had begun falling out, the way her eyes were tight at the corners. a tired single mother.

you feel a pang of guilt at the way you’d immediately wanted to dismiss her, remind yourself that you have the day off tomorrow so you can sleep in, and smile at her.

“so, i heard a rumour, and you know i’m not one to gossip,” she glances your way expectantly, so you prompt her to continue, “which is why i’m asking you directly. you and logan howlett… do you have something going on?”

you pause, considering. it wouldn’t be a lie to say yes, as there is something going on between you and logan, though you know how she’ll interpret the words. you know that she would return home and immediately call everyone she knows to spread the news, and since the townspeople hadn’t left logan alone since he’d moved here, it would eventually spread to him, someone or another asking him about it, pressing for details.

“we’re… friends,” you settle on eventually, “i help laura with her homework sometimes after school and we got to know each other from that.”

it’s a truthful answer, if not deliberately vague. you hate to be the center of drama or attention - there’s a reason you chose to work at a library, quiet and unassuming and not interesting enough to be the subject of speculation.

she giggles, a true laugh, her expression softening with a hint of relief. she bumps you with her shoulder as if speaking to a longtime friend and says, “well, just between you and me, i know a lot of women who are going to be relieved to hear that.” 

you and logan grow closer, to the point where laura no longer initiates most of the time you spend together. you introduce him to your favourite movies when he mentions how long it’s been since he watched one, evenings spent giggling at the television screen while laura sleeps upstairs, having gone to bed long ago.

hours pass so quickly with logan by your side, until the sky resembles a painting, and he walks you home under the constellations of stars. he hangs by the door for a while longer, the both of you drifting, not quite ready to part ways, but you both have jobs in the morning and so you reluctantly bid him goodnight, letting the door to your home shut behind you, hiding the way you beam when he says it back.

dinner comes and goes like any other week, and soon enough you’re standing in logan’s kitchen helping him clean the dishes. this is the part where laura leaves the two of you alone, not wanting to be dragged into the chore, slipping out in that creepily silent way of hers.

there’s a tension that clings to logan tonight, a darkness that’s permeated over the evening, one you’d noticed when he’d come to pick up laura from the library and had almost said something to you but stopped. it wasn’t unusual for logan to be silent, letting you fill the majority of the conversation with your stories and laughter, responding with comments that make you laugh, proud smiles tugging on his lips when your body curls into him.

you’re not surprised when he puts the final dish in the washing machine and turns to face you, something akin to determination in his eyes, though you hardly know anything that could be the cause.

“another parent asked me out today,” he says, “the mom of someone in laura’s class.”

“oh,” you say, certain being stabbed in the heart would hurt less. you’re suddenly slightly nauseous, and you briefly consider using it as an excuse to go home early, but you’re not a coward. you won’t run from a conversation that’s inevitable.

one day logan will meet someone, whether that day is today you aren’t sure, and he’s going to fall for them. you consider the possibility that that person could be you, but you’re normally good at reading people, at seeing the subtleties in body language to indicate attraction, and logan has never given you any signs of your feelings for him being reciprocated.

it could be that he’s generally just a difficult person to read, that over the course of his life he’s had to learn to bury his emotions in a way many people don’t. it’s possible, believable even, with how long it had taken you to learn the intricacies of his expressions, the way the slightest tension between his brows could mean several different things. or, you think, he’s just not into you.

“is that good?” you ask, instead of voicing your current thoughts, which are a mantra of: fuck, fuck, no, fuck, please no.

“no,” he replies like it should be obvious, “her son is an asshole who tried to bully laura on her first day of school. she punched him.”

“good for her,” is your only reply.

you feel awful for the way his vehement denial makes you feel, a pleased warmth spreading in your stomach, a happiness you’ll carry with you all the way home. it’s not your place, and yet here you are, hoping that he doesn’t find love, thinking that you’d rather he be alone forever than with someone other than you. it’s selfish, cruel, makes it hard to keep your expression neutral over the disgust you feel at yourself rising.

logan’s watching you carefully, “it is good for her. she almost got suspended but i think even the principal was afraid of her.”

the conversation pitters out, your answering hum the only reply you can give with your mind wandering. it’s the perfect time to ask, the conversation relevant enough that it won’t be coming out of nowhere, a casual query that he can refuse to answer if he so desires.

“but otherwise,” you say, “if there was no history between her son and laura and she’d asked you out, what would you have said?”

“no,” he says again. quick, easy, painless and yet horribly painful for you.

“is there anyone in town that you’ve noticed?” you ask because you can’t help yourself, the pull of curiosity is too strong, almost as strong as the pull that always brings you into logan’s orbit when you stand close enough, bringing you unconsciously closer.

there’s a pause long enough to make your heart race, the beat so loud you can hear it ringing in your ears, a hard rhythm that’s much too rapid to be healthy. you wonder what logan can see on your face, following the way his impassive gaze traces over you, catching on your eyes and the quirk of your mouth.

when he speaks at last you can hardly hear it over the rushing sound of your anxiety. “i’ve noticed you.”

“what?”

“you,” he repeats, shrugging like it doesn’t matter, “but i’m old and worn. too much for a pretty thing like you. and there’s so much you don’t know about my life, horrible shit i’ve done that’ll make you look at me different. i’m angry and violent and i drink too much to deal with my emotions, even if i’ve cut back since laura. and her, laura. i got a kid now. can’t force that responsibility onto you too.”

you lift a hand up, silently asking him to stop, to allow you time to process the words you’re fairly certain were not a hallucination. he refuses to look at you, jaw clenched, staring instead at his hands the way one would stare at a murder weapon, an angry glare that speaks of hatred, pain and resentment.

it’s that look that makes the decision for you. you place your hand on top of his, dark glare now pointed at your hand, faltering when your fingers trace the grooves between his knuckles. you allow him a moment of silence to process, content to wait now that your mind is no longer racing, overthinking every breath and creating unlikely scenarios. rather, you feel calm, and you hope that the way you squeeze his hand transfers some of that peace to him.

“is this your version of asking me out?” you ask when his eyes lock on yours, a raging storm hiding behind the calm facade of his careful mask, “because normally people don’t try to convince the other person to say no.”

“i’m not asking anything,” he replies, voice hoarse, “i know how i feel about you. but i’m a mess and i can’t ask you to deal with that.”

“alright, well, even if you’re not asking this is me saying yes,” you tell him, turning his hand so his palm faces up, lacing your fingers together, skin still slightly damp from the washing you’d been doing.

he doesn’t let go of your hand, but he changes the subject. you don’t argue. logan has some sort of feelings for you, though he hasn’t put them into clear words, and for now, that’s enough. you can wait while he wades through whatever self-hatred spiral is happening in his mind, the excuses he’ll give you for why you can’t be together. because he was holding back before, when he’d explained why he wasn’t good enough for you. he’d forced himself to stop talking, but you can tell there’s more behind that angry rant.

so instead of pushing, you let the rest of the evening pass as it usually would, playing monopoly with laura, her temper rising when the game doesn’t go her way, cussing at the board in spanish. she’s creative with her insults and you press your lips together tightly to hold back a laugh. you’re certain logan knows what she’s saying, or can at least make an educated guess, but he doesn’t comment on it.

she heads upstairs when she loses, stomping her feet down on every step, a strange contrast to how she often moves like a shadow. you’re content to let her walk away, knowing the anger isn’t real - she’ll grumble and stew in the loss for a bit before moving on as she always does.

“you need to know what you’re getting into,” logan says, and it takes you a while to piece together what he means, your earlier conversation pushed to the back of your mind during monopoly. “if you agree to this and then realise it’s too much and leave - i don’t think laura’d be able to handle it.”

there’s an unspoken, and me, in the way he watches you, vulnerable, something logan loathes to be. so you wrap your arms around him, not for the first time, but it hasn’t yet lost its novelty. you feel his body heat despite the layers of clothing separating the two of you from making direct skin-to-skin contact, sighing in pleasure as you relax with your head on his chest.

“we’re not strangers logan,” you say, “i know who you are, how you treat me, how you treat your daughter. and if more of this is what it’s like to date you, to be with you, i don’t see myself leaving.”

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

latina!reader taglist: @naggywaggy @mami-veracruz @spencerswh0r3 @gl1ndathegoodwitch @taextannie

[lunarriviera]

Hi I was wondering did you see this interview of tan jianci and jinshijia discussing the relationship between shen yi and du cheng, they are basically saying the relationship between those two in s2 is like a compass, regardless of how far shen yi explores or how big the circle he draws he is still firmly held by the center of the circle (du cheng) and his exploration depends on this fact, I found that really interesting https://m.weibo.cn/status/5110711277585719?wm=3333_2001&from=10EC093010&sourcetype=weixin&s_trans=3182113252_5110711277585719&s_channel=4&jumpfrom=weibocom#&video

HI HEY HELLO yes I DID see it and am gonna embed it here, for readers who maybe can't access Weibo (thanks to all our fabulous governments who get along SO WELL, and their idiot firewalls), and my (very bad, HSK2.5) translation of Tan-laoshi's comments:

interviewer: The character outline [in promotional materials, maybe?] says the relationship between the two of you is like a compass: Du Cheng is the foot of the compass, and as long as he stays in place, Shen Yi can draw a wider circle. Do you agree with this statement?

TJC: Shen Yi keeps exploring, more and more. But no matter how far he explores, whether it's a small circle or a wide one, he never goes far from the center. That's the relationship between the two of them.

interviewer: Jia-ge, are you willing to be the one in the center?

TJC [teasing]: Can you use your actual voice [to answer]?

JSJ: [laughs, says nothing]

What I especially love about this (in addition to Duoduo chattering away as he does, and Jia-ge sitting there like he's physically in pain) is the idea that Shen YI and Du Cheng have evolved this system of working together over time. We get to see them in s2 so far from where we left them; at the end of s1 they'd barely concluded their enemies to husbands speedrun and were still newly acquainted. They'd cleared a handful of cases together, including a very big one, but it had still only been at most a few months since Shen Yi showed up at the Beijiang precinct and smiled wryly and said 好久不见.

So now here they are at the start of s2, having developed a working relationship with much greater trust. Du Cheng knows to listen to Shen Yi when his eyes get big and starry and he has some insight that sounds initially bizarre and involves art history, because it will invariably pan out. And for his part Shen Yi knows in his bones that Du Cheng is reliable like sunrise and will show up when he needs him, will always come in clutch with his service weapon and his bike rack.

It's not that they don't still clash—s2 shows us crucial instances of them each failing to pick up what the other is throwing down. But overall they seem to have accepted the role the other occupies. Du Cheng knows that Shen Yi's sharp-eyed observational skills will pick up what he would otherwise miss, and Shen Yi knows that Du Cheng will believe him, whatever intuition-based theory he throws out there.

There's a scene that illustrates this beautifully, actually, in s2 ep7:

Here, Du Cheng and Shen Yi question a witness (while Shen Yi enjoys his froufrou little caffeine drink), and Shen Yi immediately gets distracted by, it turns out, some relevant Gauguin reproductions. But see how Du Cheng doesn't even notice that Shen Yi just randomly gets up from the table and wanders away. He's not only used to it, he takes it for granted—he assumes there's a point to Shen Yi's curiosity, and that he'll tell him all about whatever it is he observed, afterwards.

This shot offers a literal visualization of the foot of the compass holding still and steady, while the point of the compass is free to describe a wide arc around it. It's them. And I think that's beautiful.

[mclalan]

What art program do you use? sorry if you already answered something like this but im so mesmerized by the techniques you use in your art.

Thank you. No need to apologise; I don't mind answering this question because it's an excuse to walk through my latest image!

The concept for this piece is based on being perceived online through interpretations of posts and artwork, yet how artificial this can be. The relationship the viewer forms is more with the narrative of the work, and any insight into the artist through this feels highly awkward to me, which is precisely what I want to explore with this piece.

In this example, I wanted an attractive sitter to look like someone out of a new romantics music video or like an Enya video, because this genre and era of media is very aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic for me. I hold it as an unobtainable ideal— a hauntology. So, as wonderful as it is, it equally feels shameful and perverse because it's an aesthetic object of desire that I am contriving.

The sitter is holding one of my cartoon characters, Lauren Ipson, the protagonist of my Ersatz world project. A trope in writing is when a character acts as a self-insert of the author, and I'm conscious to try and avoid that with Lauren. I try to write Lauren as dry and sardonic yet also fun, dramatic, and friendly. I don't think of these as personal qualities of my own, but I imagine personal qualities bleeding into fictional characters is inevitable.

Yet Lauren Ipson feels much more alive a character to me compared to any attempt at self-portraiture or self-expression that I've done, which is very little because I'm not interested in constructing a perceivable identity. (I'm aware this text itself can be interpreted as self-expression; however, to me this is just another construct.)

So Is the sitter meant to be me, controlling Lauren? I'm definitely baiting the viewer to think this, and you can interpret it that way if you want, but really I don't think of the sitter as me at all. My intention is to show how it's all a facarde. The sitter is basically just as much a doll, a puppet, a mannequin as Lauren Ipson is, if anything more so.

There's a deliberate irony between Lauren's cartoon rendering and the sitter, who I wanted to render with more detail and evoke a modernist style. I'm inspired by Hans Bellmer and Dorothea Tanning with their work with dolls. However, despite that implied visual hierarchy, the more detailed sitter shares a similar, stilted vector construct to Lauren. They're both born from vector drawing after all. And it's further undermined with the way Lauren the doll looks directly at the viewer, as if she's alive, while the sitter looks to the side with a blank, almost dead-in-the-eyes expression.

Anyway, with that in mind, almost all of my work starts as a thumbnail sketch. Although I often draft digitally and am fine with doing that, I feel more confident doing it freehand on paper. Digital rendering feels more like a refinement process to me. Funnily enough, although I often prefer to sketch with physical materials, I'm anxious of refining or rendering with them.

I like my designs to be very direct and conceivable, so a solid silhouette, pose, negative space etc. I often create a quick digital sketch with this in mind, either by tracing or referencing the thumbnail, although sometimes I skip this step and go straight to the rendered drawing. The aim is to establish a visual guide, dividing the drawing into various shapes for digital airbrush rendering later on.

With this composition, I made a second draft with more attention to details such as the face, hands and feet. Sometimes I'll use photo references if I'm struggling with posing or anatomy. These drafts are often blue because it's easier to render the black linework over a transparent blue sketch.

The chair took some time but was relatively simple to render. It uses the line tool set to magnetic anchor point, following two-point perspective vanishing points. I like two-point perspective because it feels sort of digitally native to me to have these impossibly perfect vertical lines. I also know the horizon line should be at eye level or something, but I just like the idea of the top of the chair to be perfectly horizontal.

Here I'm drawing the final rendered form. I use the stroke tool with it set as smooth as possible. Often I'll redraw lines over and over if it means getting certain curves to look right. Once the lines are drawn, I'll fill them in and remove the stroke, leaving just the solid vector shape. The shade of grey I use is done to simply denote the shape. It does not represent any kind of shading or anything; in fact, when I bring it into Photoshop, all these shapes are set to the same shade, but if I had that here in Animate as I'm drawing, it would be impossible to see what I'm doing. The red background is just for clarity.

Once it's all drawn, I'll make sure every shape is clean, overlapping nicely, and divided into its own layer. A composition can often be comprised of hundreds of separate shapes.

Each shape will be its own layer in Photoshop, which will operate as a clipping mask. The clipping masks act like masking tape or shielded off areas for soft brush opacity rendering, similar to the soft atomised rendering from an airbrush, just done digitally.

I follow very rudimentary painting techniques of simple shading, lighting, and bounce-back highlights. I follow a simplified Grisaille technique, focusing on strong values in greyscale before adding a wash of colour with a color gradient map set to layer style color. Sometimes my values can be a little off, but as long as the values are all consistently acting together, I can correct them with transparent washes or color curves. If the greyscale looks harmonious with all the forms clear, colour will likely work.

Proper digital painters will say this is an amateur process, with results that look mechanical and stiff, as colours in the real world all bounce together off different surfaces, resulting in colour harmonies. However, I don't mind the inharmonious nature of the colours, as I find the values give the composition enough harmony. I'm working digitally, so why go to all the effort to make it not look digital? It's interesting to me to have the red chair look blindingly red, the green skirt look blindingly green.

Colours can look boring without some form of harmony though, so I will add in blue-greens with the darker areas, more turquoise greens towards the highlights.

Skin tones are far more complex, however, as it's something that's more informed by realism. This is why kigurumi dolls with their plastic flesh look so artificial to the eye, because we're familiar with how light passes through flesh and skin and all the subtleties of colour that it picks up. This piece is the first time I've explored flesh tones, as typically I avoid all this by rendering skin as grey porcelain.

I needed to really up the contrast, with shaded areas becoming purples and highlights verging on washed out. Areas with more blood, like feet and cheeks, appear more orange and red. Areas closer to bone and cartilage, like the bridge of the nose, can look almost blue and green. Exploring these colour values and tints in the aim of natural tones was fun to do, and ironic given how blank the face is.

Although in the moment I feel very much like I'm rendering a realistic reality, when I step back, I'm reminded how stylised and unrealistic the painting actually is. It looks kind of insane, like everything is so uniform and overtly saturated. It doesn't feel present in a real space, despite the shadow and form implies one. But I'm not consciously thinking of these things, of style, as I'm working. To me, it's a process of world-building and problem-solving.

[f0point5]

(I’m) charming and endearing, and (un)comfortable

Written companion piece to the Lando x fakegirlfriend!reader social media au

Set after Part 6, at the dinner with Lando’s dad that is mentioned.

A/N: So, those of you who were here for the Max fix know that I do long form writing exercises to get more of a feel for the characters for the smau. I didn’t share the Max ones while the fic was ongoing because my writing is not my favourite, but I do like providing more of an insight into the real life stuff that isn’t covered in the smau and especially the reader’s thoughts. And I like this is kind of needed for this smau especially. So, I’m not going to tag anyone in these so that if you’d rather just read the smau you don’t get caught up with these, but you can read them if you want more of an insight into the reader’s character. If you hate it…just pretend it never happened 🫠🫣

“You look fine,” you tell your reflection, staring at it right in the eyes.

Your gaze flits down to your simple black satin slip dress. Black Amina Muadi heels peek out from the hem. Single, but elegant, you think.

You look fine.

“You look fine.” You tell your reflection one more time, and she looks like she believes you.

Of course you look fine. You wouldn’t have a career if you didn’t. People have paid obscene amounts of money for your face and your body. You know exactly how much Lando Norris has paid. You put together something that accentuates your shape a bit but not so much that his dad would think you’re trying.

You haven’t met a parent in a while. Once you’d started shooting womenswear at 15, parents were rarely around, though occasionally you would run into an overbearing mother. You can’t remember ever meeting anyone’s father.

Your alarm rings, so it’s too late to change now. Steeling yourself with one last deep breath, you go over to the interconnecting door and knock.

On the other side of the door, something bangs, and then someone grunts, and you’re about to just give up on this whole idea before the door wings open to reveal a panting Lando Norris.

He’s dressed in beige chinos and a black polo shirt, showing off a golden tan. Okay, you’d let Twitter win this one; he’s beautiful.

“I thought you were going to-“ he starts, but then stops himself. You suppose he assumed you’d knock on the external door. “Never mind,”

“So,” you gesture to the space between you.

“Oh, yeah, come in,” he says, stepping aside to let you into his suite.

It’s huge. You survey the large living room. Several pairs of chinos sit in dry cleaning plastic on the couch. The remains of a fruit platter sits on the dining table. Two sets of golf clubs rest precariously on a wall in the corner. He’s a bit of a slob.

“What?” He asks you. You turn to him, surprised to find his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Nothing,” you shake your head and shrug, but he doesn’t stop studying you. He’s making an effort not to be obvious, but he’s assessing you from head to toe. It makes you squirm. “It’s okay? The look?”

His eyes widen. “The look’s incredible,” he says quickly, probably embarrassed you caught him looking. His cheeks turn even more red. “You’re-“

“Okay, we can go?” You cut him off, smoothing you already sleek up-do. He should turn the damn air conditioning on.

Lando motions for you to go ahead of him to the door and he trails behind you until he hurries past you to get the door. You head to the lift in silence, hair on the back of your neck prickling every time you feel his eyes linger on you.

You look fine. He would have told you if you didn’t.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he says, when you’re in the lift. You glance at him, finding him already looking at you with a shy smile that would have any woman on her knees right there.

You shrug. “It’s not a problem.”

“Probably not your idea of a fun evening,” he continues, and you wonder if he’s trying to convince you to call it off and go back upstairs.

“I was going to eat from the restaurant anyway.” You say, watching as he yawns. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Two sessions today. And quali always take a lot out of me, you know,”

You hum in response.

“I, uh,” he stops himself, and then notices you’re looking at him, so he sighs before continuing. “I actually did pretty well. At quali. Better than I thought I would, anyway. It’s…” he trails off, scratching at the back of his neck.

He looks sort of embarrassed to have even mentioned it. You almost give in and tell him you watched the qualifying live while doing your post flight skincare, but you don’t. You’re not sure why exactly, it just feels like you’d be committing to something, and don’t want to do that.

“Congratulations,” is all you end up saying, and then it’s back to silence.

When you get downstairs, three separate groups of girls ask for pictures with him. You stand aside awkwardly, watching the way these strangers lean into him and eagerly put their arms around him and stand so close. It makes your skin crawl. Lando doesn’t react to it. But then, you never do, either.

He apologises for the interruption and you wave it off, embarrassed that he might have noticed your discomfort. It’s not your business.

Inside the restaurant, Lando gently directs you towards a table by the window where his dad is waiting. You’d googled him, so you knew what he liked like, but the photos didn’t do justice to the serenity that rolls off this man in waves.

He stands when he sees you, opening his arms to his son. Lando steps into his embrace with no hesitation, and you wonder if that’s why he’s not bothered so much by the closeness of strangers. Maybe you wouldn’t mind being touched if anyone had ever touched you like that.

When they part, you pull your lips into a smile and step forward.

“Good evening, Mr. Norris. I’m Y/N,”

Adam’s wide smile falters for a second. “Of course I know that,” he says with a chuckle, beckoning you over. You oblige, and he leans in to kiss you on both cheeks. “Who wouldn’t recognise his son’s girlfriend, eh? And please, call me Adam,”

“D’accord.” When both men raise an eyebrow, you explain, “it means okay,”

“Ah,” Adam says with a sage nod, sitting down.

You startle when Lando pulls your chair out for you, flashing him what you hope is a grateful look rather than a confused one.

“I learnt French all through school but I’ve forgotten it all, unfortunately,” Adam says.

“I got the duolingo for it, but it’s harder than you think,” Lando chips in.

“Surely Y/N could teach you,”

“I’m too strict for him,” you joke, forcing yourself not to react when you feel Lando rest his arm on the back of your chair.

“Is that so,” Adam says, catching your eye.

You know the looks he’s giving you. It’s the look a casting director gets when they meet you and you aren’t quite what they asked for. That look they get in their eyes as they decide if you’re a good enough compromise is the same one Adam Norris is giving you now.

He’s the worst kind of casting director - the type that will try to make small talk as if they don’t have your life in numbers printed out in front of them; the type to make you laugh so they can judge the shade and angle of your teeth. Not content with your time, they demand a performance.

So you perform.

You order pasta instead of salad because being thin is most appreciated when it’s effortless. You tease Lando endlessly because the brits like to make fun of each other. You pretend you’re duly nervous when Adam speaks to you and not nervous every time Lando does.

You’re not sure if Adam buys into it. He and Lando have an easy and intoxicating rapport that you’re powerless to replicate. Lando’s admiration of his dad is almost palpable, and Adam’s adoration is plain to see. He loves his son so much that you think it must be clear to him that you don’t.

But he’s clever, and funny, and more gracious than you deserve. He’s so guileless that you understand why Lando would want to shield him from the truth of your situation. You feel a little guilty, being part of the lie, and even more guilty for being part of the truth, but you push that all down, reminding yourself that these people have no more to do with you than a photographer or a designer on a shoot.

By the time dinner comes to an end, you’re exhausted. You can taste blood in your mouth from chewing the inside of your cheek, and you feel sick from the Chardonnay that Adam ordered that you had to pretend to like on an empty stomach.

The knot in your chest loosens with every step the three of you take towards the lifts. Lando and Adam joke about what they’re going to eat for dinner after the race and you almost burst into tears at the thought of doing this all again tomorrow.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you,” Adam says with what you’ve come to believe is a trademark wide smile. “Honestly I was starting to think he’d made it up, getting the most beautiful girl in the world to go out with him,”

Ha. Most beautiful. Maybe when you were six, all lithe and pouty and innocent. Maybe when you were seventeen, no curves or dark circles or opinions. Not now.

He’s teasing you, not laughing at you, but your body can’t tell the difference.

You think you feel the bile rising up your throat but thankfully Lando cuts in before you have to.

“Dad,” he chides through clenched teeth and a pained smile. When you turn to him the blush that has become quite familiar to you is back with a vengeance, and spreading all the way to his ears.

“What? It’s not bad to say your girlfriend is beautiful,” Adam teases, turning to you. “Is it, Y/N?”

“I would be worried if he didn’t. It’s how I stay employed, after all,” you say with a smile. Your response is effortless, well rehearsed, right down to the way you lift your hand to ghost over your collarbone.

“Must be a glamorous life, being a model,” Adam says thoughtfully. You may not have any experience meeting parents, but you know well enough what he’s getting at.

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “No more glamorous than being a formula one driver. And I’m sure you know from Lando that glamour doesn’t mean comfort. Very often the opposite, if my shoes are any indication,”

He’s taken aback by your answer, doesn’t even bother to hide his raised eyebrows. “No, that’s-“ he lets out a sigh. “That’s very true. You’ve got a wise one here, mate,”

“Yeah, she’s keeping me out of trouble,” Lando jokes, nudging you, and though it doesn’t hurt you feel a sting where his skin touched yours.

“I don’t doubt it,” Adam says, opening his arms to hug you again. “Go easy on him though, eh?” These words are half whispered as he pulls you close, squeezing you just once before he lets you go.

“I will,” you promise. It’s one you’ll try to keep.

He hugs Lando next, a tight one, cradling the back of his son’s head with a gentle tap.

“Well,” he says to both of you, “it’s been lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m just going to check the front desk has organised my taxi to the airport on Monday, so I’ll see you both tomorrow,”

“Night, Dad,”

“Love you.”

Adam heads off to the desk just as the lift arrives and you dart into it. You’re too tired to even press the button for your floor but Lando takes care of it.

He lets out a heavy breath, looking over at you as though thinking you might do the same. He doesn’t realise your night isn’t over until he’s gone, too.

“I think that went well,” he says. It’s a confident statement said in an uncertain tone, and you can’t help but feel bad. It’s not as though he was the one who had to make a good impression.

“I’m sorry if I’m not-“ you stop yourself. It’s not your fault. “If he didn’t like me. I hope it won’t cause problems for you,”

Lando looks completely nonplussed by your comment. “Of course he liked you,” he says with reassuring scoff and a smile, as if anything else is unimaginable. “And he’s not really that kind of dad. He just cares that I like you,”

God, that smile. You’d hate yourself for the things you’d do to keep him smiling at you like that.

“I think you faked that well,” you say, smiling back at him.

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for doing this,” he clears his throat. “Still don’t know why you did,”

He’s expecting an answer and you struggle for something to tell him. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for.

You can feel the pressure building as he waits for you to say something. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your skin bursts into flames and your palms get clammy.

Why is he even asking? He didn’t think twice about asking you for a favour and now he’s changing the rules. It was dinner, not a kidney. Does he have so many vampires around him that he thinks you need a reason to be nice? Is he so used to paying for kindness that he thinks he needs to buy you, too? Didn’t he already try?

Thankfully, mercifully, the lift stops at your floor and you waste no time stepping out even though you’re beginning to feel unsteady on your feet.

The air conditioning hits you, and you realise you don’t owe Lando an explanation.

“You can just say thank you, you know,” you tell him, striding towards your rooms with him half a step behind. “You don’t have to think so much about it.”

“I did say thank you,” he argues. You glance at him as you pull out your keycard. He’s bewildered. You’re breaking your promise to Adam already, but it’s his sanity or yours.

“De rien.” You place your key card against the censor and open the door. “Goodnight.”

Once you slip inside, the door clicks shut with no trouble, and you wait to hear Lando’s door open and shut before you make your way further into the room. You kick off your shoes and shed your dress on the way to your suitcase.

You can hear him moving around in his suite, more attuned to it now you know the layout of the room. As you rummage around for your sweatpants and hoodie, half of you wants to send an apology text. The stupid half of you. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. You can’t afford for it to matter. The weight of his judgement will crush you, you know it.

As you pull on the brown Quadrant hoodie, you tell yourself it’s better he doesn’t think of you at all.

[kiisstuff]

The Bakshi Family

Summary:

"The Bakshi Family" is an interactive fiction inspired by the sitcom Full House. After the untimely death of their mother, Rakesh Bakshi finds himself navigating the challenges of parenting his four children— The twins Alisha & Asim, Bevis, and the youngest, Darsh. The family's dynamics are further complicated by the arrival of their 25-year-old aunt/uncle, the MC, who must balance their own life while helping the Bakshi family cope with their loss. Amidst the chaos, the MC encounters five potential romantic interests: Bo Wu, Rakesh's best friend; Rakesh himself; Grace Clarke, a celebrity; S Smith, the neighbor; and Charlie Andrew, the teacher. As the MC forms bonds and supports the Bakshi family, they discover that love and laughter can heal even the deepest wounds in this heartwarming and entertaining interactive narrative.

Aunt/Uncle MC: Play as the 25-year-old aunt/uncle, juggling personal life and responsibilities to support the Bakshi family in the aftermath of their mother's death. (decide to play male or female and create a personality and a appearance)

Diverse Romantic Interests: Choose from five distinct romantic interests, each with their own personalities and backgrounds. Will you pursue a relationship with Rakesh, the best friend Bo, the celebrity Grace, the neighbor S, or the teacher Charlie?

Coping Mechanisms: Witness how each family member copes with grief in their own way. Delve into the emotional nuances of the characters as they navigate the healing process.

Parenting Challenges: Assist Rakesh, the father, in overcoming his chaotic and embarrassing parenting style. Navigate the ups and downs of family life while trying to understand the needs and emotions of each child.

Slice-of-Life Situations: Experience everyday situations reminiscent of the Full House sitcom, including heartwarming family moments, humorous mishaps in the kitchen, and the joys and challenges of raising children.

Bo Wu:

Personality: Bo is a 28-year-old Asian-American with a flare for the dramatic. He exudes arrogance, flirts unabashedly, and considers himself the coolest person in the room. Despite his rude exterior, there's a mysterious charm that draws people in.

Appearance: Bo has fair skin, dark brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair tied in a small ponytail. Standing at 6'0ft, he embraces a relaxed and effortlessly cool style.

Rakesh Bakshi:

Personality: At 36, Rakesh is the Indian father of the Bakshi family. Despite his embarrassing and chaotic parenting, he is genuinely nice and friendly. He enjoys baseball, snowboarding (though it always ends badly), and casual cooking sessions that often result in culinary mishaps.

Appearance: Rakesh has tan skin, messy brown hair, a casual stumble, and stands tall at 6'4ft, giving him a laid-back and approachable look.

Grace Clarke:

Personality: Grace, a 23-year-old British celebrity, is sweet, insightful, outgoing, and enthusiastic. She enjoys singing, acting, dressing up, surfing, yoga, and cooking. Grace brings a positive and vibrant energy to every situation.

Appearance: Grace boasts porcelain skin, mid-length wavy auburn hair, and ocean-blue eyes. Standing at 5'3ft, she carries herself with a sensual and graceful demeanor.

Scott/Skye Smith:

Personality: S a 29 American Person, is the athletic neighbour with a shy, spontaneous, logical, caring, and strategic personality. They have a love for various sports and photography, bringing a unique dynamic to the neighborhood.

Appearance: Scott, at 5'8ft, features blond, bald hair, a beard, sharp features, rosy skin and an athletic, sporty look, while Skye, standing at 5'6ft, has blond hair in a loose bun, sharp features, rosy skin and also an athletic, sporty look.

Charlie Andrew:

Personality: Charlie, the 28-year-old Native American teacher, is efficient, reliable, playful, and intellectual. They enjoy reading, hiking, and drawing.

Appearance: Charlie has shoulder-length aqua blue hair, brown eyes, golden brown skin, and a professional look, standing at 5'8ft. They radiate a calm and intellectual aura.

demo: tba probably April

forum: tba probably April

other: soulmate-if , TBFamily-If

[dailycass-cain]

It's been A LONG TIME, but I feel I am so gonna have to catch up on my thoughts with Birds of Prey. So tonight I'm gonna do a three-parter.

Tonight, part 1 will cover #9-10. So let's start with my thoughts on the two issues.

Starting off, this issue means a bit to me three-fold as #1 it occurred during the character's anniversary month.

#2 Artist Jonathan Case once again draws the character (having gone to town with the character in Batgirls #14).

#3 said GORGEOUS AAPI variant cover by Phillip Tan and Elmer Santos. I remember seeing Tan's Cass at a C2E2 a few years ago and nabbing the print (for myself and a friend). He always drew a nice Cass, and I'm glad AT LAST he drew an official one.

As for the issue itself, it's a nice beginning piece to the new arc as the Birds are basically lost trying to find Babs, along with figuring out their new surroundings.

For the special costume given to Cass this issue. I saw an article via Screenrant going into detail on how edgy this suit gives off.

I agree it does, but also to a degree of how maybe she views herself internally. Though of all the unique designs, I'm quite curious on how the artists throughout this arc corresponded with writer Kelly Thompson on the unique looks to each Bird.

Regardless the "Victorian Era" Birds as I view this issue give a very Gothic style and lend to the twists and turns this issue has.

Which, leads into one of the major moments Cass gets in the issue.

The first is a move hyped on the covers during the first arc: Barda launching Cass via a fastball special.

The moment had me squeeing as we get our first tag team move of the two and I hope there is MOAR from them besides the old classic (which you can't go wrong with).

The Birds rescue Babs, and for the briefest of moments everything "seems" right, but well Thompson remembers something OTHER writers kind of neglect with Cass.

In that, she can tell when someone is not truly themselves and is a walking lie detector.

It's a brief, but if "you're in the know" of the character, yeah Cass would easily see via a few steps of body language and behavior that Babs wasn't really Babs.

It's a character quirk that a lot of writers usually overlook coughs some Batman writers coughs.

Again, Dinah trusts Cass 100% with her insight (as the series has already established) and attacks "Babs" and we get out fight in the issue: the Birds vs. this mangled Bat Babs creature.

This issue also feels like the closest meta Thompson has regarding the whole Babs as Batgirl in the issue too. If you take in the fact that her costume has a rather "classic" look to it. And well...

And that leads me to the only downer of the issue because like the Birds themselves, as the reader we are left clueless as they are as to whom or what is behind all of this.

However, for this "one and done" different look. I'll give it being something totally different and again this series trying something new (akin to what we've gotten in the first arc).

Case's art is still stunning, and though more minimalist (compared to his Batgirls issues) still packs a punch. The costumes and crazy demon she-bat Babs still pops in my head.

I just wish we got more information other than the teases for the issue, but this is an unfolding story and like the Birds I'm here for the ride.

Birds of Prey #10 continues this wacky out-of-this-world adventure this time with a 50s twist that has the same dark edge of the prior issue. So what about the Cass within? Well...

Again, another artist of Batgirls helps with the issue as we get Robbi Rodriguez (who's been drawing A LOT of Cass granting 2016 me a wish) and Gavin Guidry on art duties.

Their art compliments the setting within the issue with this 50s to 60s style with a dark undertone (like the prior issue).

So the issue begins with the newest suits we get a '66 version of Cass. The suit itself uses a bit of what we got with the '66 bat costumes but we get Cass bits to it. The bat symbol. The belt. Oh hey! A domino mask! How Black Bat of this suit!

I do love the look, and for a "66' Batgirl" look for Cass checks all the boxes making it different from Babs' look.

Though I have to admit it's weird that Babs herself looks a lot more like her short-lived Sean Murphy bat ears look than something more to her '66.

We also get A LOT of exposition in the issue of what's going on, why someone is targeting Babs, and HOW this is happening.

And it works for me given well we need that info dump and this does feel like the part where we NEEDED this. Even if it does feel like a slight retread of Megaera from the first arc.

However, with one tiny bat twist…

The big fight for this issue is the Birds vs. a corrupted Barda. And oh dear me she is utterly terrifying. But like I said we get a twist, and it is SOOOOO Cass-characterization perfection.

Instead of a brutal fight between the two new friends we get Cass trying to reason to Barda, knowing the New God can beat this on her own.

The moment between the two is just SOOO Cass. Akin to so many stuff with the character in the past. Thompson just GETS Cassandra Cain as a character.🥺

If there's any really nitpick of this issue I have is this issue felt so quick. Like we get so much info, Possessed-Barda, Cass does Cass thing, and that's it. I kind of wish we got more but I get we're sprinkling the Sin and Vixen stuff for later.

But man, Barda/Cass are just the anchor of this series period. Their friendship is something I always wanted and this series hasn't disappointed. I can't wait when Thompson repays this with Barda coming to Cass's aide or does this.

I KNOW THIS IS COMING.

I just wonder WHEN and if I'll have tissues for this moment when Barda unleashes hell or shows this compassion to free Cass from whatever bind.

But yeah Birds of Prey has been my favorite book of the early half of the month, with Tec always complimenting it for the back half.

[lifegoesonevenifeverybodyisgone]

THE Joe Character Analysis. Part 1: The Greasers and J's Mexican Heritage

Merry Christmas, especially to the dedicated Joe fan, @barbieb0y! After torturing myself by recapping and taking notes of the entire 2.0 event, Joe's character story "The San Francisco Kids", looking at his storyboards and comic, getting Joe to 100% bond, having him as my main in the Series of Dusks, and reading + re-reading all of his voice lines/mini stories/descriptions; I can confidently say that I have gained more insights about his character and formed theories of my own that we shall tackle today.

While looking at J's character storyboard I noticed something interesting about his fashion style.

J's fashion style is inspired by the Greaser's aesthetic. Considering that Bluepoch pays attention to character details and their outfits, this is an intentional choice. By briefly looking at the Wikipedia page for the Greaser subculture, I noticed that the most prominent adopters of the style are Italian Americans from the North and Hispanic Americans in the South (including places like California, in this case, Haight Street).

This brought to my attention that J, in fact, could have Mexican heritage. Specifically, he is a mixed White-Mexican American.

Why so?

J's paternal side is the legendary arcanist family, the Waylands. The last name Wayland derives from the Norman French word Wēland, which may also derive from the ancient Germanic words wēla-nandaz, which means "battle" and "brave." This means that his father is most likely a typical White American.

Since J is a mixed arcanist, I would assume that his biological mother is a human Hispanic considering the significant percentage of San Francisco's Hispanic population and also due to J's identification with the Greaser subculture.

A mixed child has a higher chance of learning their mother's culture especially if they grow up around other maternal family members or people of the same culture. I noticed that my mixed-race cousins whose father was an American, identified more with their Filipino side especially since they live in the Philippines. I identify more with my mother's ethnic group due to the same reasons.

Besides his tanned skin, his love for Mexican food and drink and his mastery of cooking the cuisine may suggest that he is of Mexican descent.

Examples:

The most telling of these examples is J's cooking ability NOT his preference for Mexican food. In the first example, he managed to make a hot sauce AUTHENTIC enough that Centurion, a CANONICAL Mexican-American character, was taken back to her hometown. This is a big deal considering that in the 1990s, there wasn't Youtube or online sources that could spread authentic recipes for Mexican food! Due to the limited educational resources in that era regarding cooking Mexican food, this means that he most likely learned it by being taught by someone who could make Mexican food, which I conclude is his biological mother.

Tang Ji, the chef who raised J after his father died, is a Chinese immigrant so it's unlikely that he knows how to cook Mexican food from the get-go. J himself also knows how to cook Chinese food because of this. There is a chance that one of the Mexican immigrants could have taught J how to cook Mexican food but due to his tan skin color (that he had even before he began blacksmithing) this leads me to assume that my conclusion is the more likely option.

But why? I am led to believe that his mother passed down her recipes to her husband and son just like how some of my mixed family members exchange recipes and traditions amongst each other. A fast way to connect to one's culture is by knowing how to make food from THAT culture. Since J lost his mother at a young age (but not too young as not to remember her), I think it is his way of remembering his mother and connecting to his culture (since he cannot speak the language I assume).

So going back to the Greaser subculture that J identifies with, it emerged amongst lower-class teenagers and young adults. The Greaser subculture was associated with motorcycle gangs, their attire, their greased-up hair, and their rebellious attitude.

This is reflected in J's fashion:

(His hairstyle is a more tousled version of a flop)

(His jacket seems to be a modified Perfecto Motorcycle Jacket)

(His jeans are Levi's dark blue jeans that are inspired by the 50s with the cut of the jeans being a bit wider near the end to make way for boots)

(His boots are partially hidden by his jeans but it is a Winklepicker boots which are characterized by their slick body, pointy toes, and straps)

(The Greasers were oftentimes bikers and were fond of the hot rod type of bikes. "Hot Rod" is a way of modifying classic vehicles by stripping them of their parts, which exposes insides like the pipes, to increase speed.)

The original Greasers were from ethnic minorities like those from the Mediterranean, Mexican, Puerto Rican, and Italian. They felt united in the feeling of being left out of the post-war economic boom and also experienced discrimination and poverty. The theme or main philosophy and ethos of the Greaser and the cultural aspects of Mexican-American culture are essential in understanding J, his understanding of the world, and his background in Haight Street.

In three posts, I will discuss the three themes that explore 1) collectivism vs individual choice, 2) masculinity, family, and community, and 3) J's philosophy regarding blades and metals (and how it connects to his views of imperfection and culture). I will also be comparing and contrasting him with characters like Legers, Argus, and Isolde. I will reblog these posts when they come, so sit back and enjoy!

Link to the ultimate Joe Directory: https://www.tumblr.com/lifegoesonevenifeverybodyisgone/771822786973958144/the-ultimate-joe-directory?source=share

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #8: Galactagosa

Full Name: Galactagosa Gender: Trans Female (she/her) Race: Blue Dragon (visage: Night Elf/Kaldorei) Class: Mage Specialization: Arcane Orientation: Lesbian Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: ~3,000 Height: 7'11 Voice reference: Six Eyes - Beastars Theme: The Nexus - Amaranthe

[BACKSTORY]

Galactagosa was born in the Nexus in Coldarra, Borean Tundra on the continent of Northrend. Born a considerable time after the War of the Ancients, Galacta was not raised on the concerns of mortals possessing magic like so many of her Flight were. Instead, the mortals interested her, and she believed every living creature had the right to defend themselves by magical means if necessary. However, the rest of the Blue Dragons did not, as the Aspect of Magic at the time, Malygos, believed mortals to be irresponsible with magic.

For the most part, Galacta kept her opinions to herself. Her life as a Dragon for a long time was stagnant. Her visage ceremony didn't go particularly as planned, though. As a Dragon that was born male, Galactagosa (who, at the time, was referred to as Galactagos) was expected to take on a matching male visage. However, she had found herself feeling more comfortable when experimenting with female pronouns, and instead chose the form of a female Kaldorei as a visage.

That was not the problem that Galactagosa raised for her Dragonflight, however. The problem was that, when Malygos declared war against the mortal magic-users and his fellow Dragonkin, Galacta did not follow him. Instead, she rebelled, using her arcane masteries to assist the Kirin Tor during the Nexus War. Mortals always intrigued her, and she made many friends in the Kirin Tor, including real Night Elf mages that had been ostracized from their main society for their affinity for magic. Thus, she took extra pride in her visage, and oriented herself as an ally to the rights of mortals.

Since the end of the Nexus War, Galactagosa has felt misplaced. The Blue Flight became scattered, with very little of them left on Azeroth. But when the Dragon Isles awakened and called the Dragonflights home, the Blues reorganized again, and Galacta was happy to return to her kin since the crazed Malygos was long dead. Now, Galacta seeks to research more about magic and its affects on the world of Azeroth, and is happy she can coexist with her Flight and keep her morals in the process.

[THOUGHTS]

This is also a character that hasn't been on-screen yet but I think she'll be a fun gal to give a role to in upcoming arcs! A quick post, but it took me a while 'cause.. well I honestly wasn't entirely motivated lol, but here it is!

[hayatheauthor]

How To Write POC Characters Without Seeming Racist

Writing about a community you don’t come from can be hard. A lack of research or basic knowledge can often lead authors to wrongly represent or describe characters who belong to that community. But this is a simple mistake that can be reversed with a little bit of guidance and an open mind. 

If you’re a non-POC writer looking to accurately describe your POC characters without coming off as racist, here are some tips for you! From a POC YA fantasy author. 

Would You Describe Your Character Similarly If They Were White?

This tip is honestly a very basic technique that is often overlooked when discussing ways to combat racist descriptions in literature. The tip is simple: if you wouldn’t describe your character that way if they were non-POC, then don’t use that description. 

Think of every time you described your POC character’s physical features. Did you ever feel like you ‘had to’ write a certain description because your character was POC? Are your descriptions of your non-POC characters drastically different from that of your POC ones? 

If your answer to these questions were yes, then it’s very likely that your POC descriptions will come off as racist to your readers. 

I would recommend crawling through your manuscript and comparing the way you describe your non-POC characters to the way you describe your POC ones. More specifically, compare how you described your characters the first time they were mentioned in the book. The goal is to compare the two descriptions and figure out any differences between them, why these differences are present, and whether they exist due to a racist eye.

Word Choice 

An author’s word choice when describing their POC character is often a direct reflection of their perception of that community. When writing a POC character, it is important to consider what your character really looks like. This goes beyond their hair type or skin colour. 

Take a look to analyse your character’s physical attributes and come up with a list of words you could use when describing them. This can be beneficial in the long run when you need a quick adjective to describe said character during a scene. 

How To Describe POC Features 

Non-POC authors often don’t realise how discriminatory or redundant their descriptions of POC characters can be. They tend to water down their character’s features to the colour or visual depiction of it rather than actually describing those features. 

Saying your character has tan skin is an effective way to describe your character’s appearance, but it can come off as a cop-out when compared to detailed descriptions of your non-POC character’s fair skin dotted with light freckles. An easy way to better your descriptions is by using creative descriptions. 

Here is an expert from my WIP, The Traitor’s Throne, that describes one of the many POC characters: 

Her grandmother’s briefings of the royal guards failed her when Amaya needed them most, for try as she might, Amaya couldn’t recall anything to help her recognise the green-eyed man with a face like an acorn, both in shape and shade. 

I could have easily said he was tan skinned and left it at that, but the acorn analogy seems more alluring and helps the reader gain insight on the character’s features instead of their skin tone. 

When using creative descriptions, consider using words and phrases that tie into your character’s personality. A scary antagonist would have long black hair dark as night that curtained their pale face, a cute child could have golden skin that glowed under the sunlight. 

Refrain From Using The Word Exotic! 

The word exotic is possibly the worst thing you could use when describing a POC character. 

The Oxford dictionary describes exotic as ‘from or in another country, especially a tropical one; seeming exciting and unusual because it is connected with foreign countries’. Thus, this adjective would make no sense if your book takes place in a POC setting or is written from another POC’s perspective. 

Exotic is also often overused by non-POC writers and is seen as a lazy copout by many. 

Rather than describing your character as exotic, consider actually describing their features. Ask yourself why you chose to use exotic in the first place. Maybe they have wild curls unlike anything your character has ever seen, or their fair skin is so different from the tan skin your character is used to. 

Narrow down the reasons and then take the time to redescribe your character. This will not only help you ensure you don’t come off as racist but will also paint a clear picture for your readers. 

Are you facing a hard time trying to pick the right words for your POC characters? Consider checking out this blog by writing with colour on Tumblr that details how to describe skin colour. Their tips can also be applied to other aspects of your character’s features.  

Avoid The Stereotypes 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sighed in annoyance every time I come across a tan-skinned South Indian character in literature who is kind and smart and has long dark brown hair.

Yes, there are many Indians who look like that. But India is a diverse country known for its various cultures and people, and it’s unfortunate to see authors completely overlook the rest of our country in an effort to pertain to their stereotypes. 

The same can be said for many other POCs, such as East Asians who are always described as thin and dainty with sharp features and minds, or Middle Easterns and Africans who are extroverted, excitable and often portrayed as violent. 

Non-POCs often find racial stereotypes amusing, but they are really just frustrating and show us how uninformed non-POCs are when it comes to our cultures and countries. 

The next time you draft up your POC character’s appearance and personality, take the time to consider why you chose to make them this way, and whether their personality is really a reflection of your limited insight into that character’s culture. 

Don’t Over Describe 

It’s important to paint a clear description of your characters, but it’s just as important to remember when your descriptions are redundant. Overdescribing POC characters is the biggest mistake you can make when writing a POC. As mentioned at the start of this blog, it’s important to consider whether or not you would describe your character that way if they were non-POC. 

For example, if I were writing a fight scene between the antagonist and an African character, I would likely use lines like ‘their dreadlocks slapped against the back of their neck as they raced away from the villain’ or ‘the blood staining their hands ran down their russet arms as they tightened their grip around the antagonist’s neck’. 

These are simple yet effective descriptions that help paint a clear image of the character without ruining the reader’s immersion. 

When writing POC characters, it’s important to remember that they are just like every other character you are writing. They are human. And their race or physical attributes shouldn’t change the way you describe your characters.

 I hope this blog on how to write POC characters without seeming racist will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and subscribe to my email list for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of my blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author.

Copyright © 2022 Haya Sameer, you are not allowed to repost, translate, recreate or redistribute my blog posts or content without prior permission

[kooktrash]

just an insight on what writers have to deal with in regards to inclusivity for everyone:

I’ll start off by saying I’m obvi hiding their username for anonymity but I just wanna show yall what it’s like to be a writer these days on tumblr 💀

I’ve never explicitly said my writing is only for poc or only for white. I purposely try and leave that out of my writing bc I want everyone to feel included. the sugar daddy fic this user is referring to is I believe Lace & Luxury where I never once said it was a black character. does this mean I would never write a black/poc character? ofc not, it just means that I don’t specify race/ethnicity, etc or how will it be inclusive for all? and the immediate jumping to conclusions bc a character in my fic has y2k style or bc of a moodboard pic [of a white person with a heavy tan I found off pinterest] leads the idea that it’s poc is weeeiiiiirrrrrddddd bc even if it was, i don’t see how it would be such a problem to read the tags

if anything I feel like there should be MORE writing for poc

this person is talking about wanting “inclusivity” but they’re upset that a character might be a poc or overweight bc it doesn’t describe them?

finally this strange need to be a victim by saying “do you have a grudge against skinny people” literally BAFFLED ME, bc I went on their blog where they reblogged a post about how skinny people are ignored LIKE WHATTTTT

I’ve been reading fanfiction since I was 13 in 2014 and I could never read a story about a brown character but there were a billion carbon copy fics of a blonde/ginger, skinny main character. I would read them bc what other option did I have? that’s why this upsets me because one)

I don’t ever specify my character’s race/color/weight so for someone to make assumptions and then message me trying to ask me to change the way I write is weeeeeirrrrdddd. I’m not a professional, I write for fun and if there are blogs out there that only specifically write for poc or heavier set people, DONT READ THEM IF YOU DONT LIKE THEM

suddenly all these readers want to delegate how a writer creates a story when it used to be that we had readers BECAUSE they liked the way we wrote, not bc they want to change it

this is what poc people have gone through for yearrrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssss:

and like I said, I try and be inclusive and never describe someone’s physical traits unless it’s in the most indirect way but I completely respect and acknowledge writers who do specifically make works for poc readers or readers with a certain type of body type [that was never written before in fanfics]

I also don’t care if people think I’m rude, I’m literally Mexican with tan skin and black hair and if I wanted to write works that’s “not inclusive to white/skinny people” I would’ve done that by now, but that’s not my goal so pls don’t try and paint my writing to be for one target audience

[hbosscreations]

important queation: what are the ethnicities of all of your characters from Finding Washington, and maybe first names, Fed or Rebel, and armor color, too? Specifically, here's the characters I'd like to know this for please.

Vanessa Kimball

Katie Jensen

Antoine Bitters

John Andersmith

Charles Palomo

Kyle Matthews

Emily Grey

Lorenzo Paez

Taita Folami

Myra Danvers

Edra

Semyon Demir (been thinking of this one as the red Fed gunman from season 13 but I could be wrong)

Quetzalli

Chari

Raniya Habisch

Sadhana

Garza

Mo Orwell

Ramirez

Elsweiz

Silvers

Jones

Jessica Smosna

Paolo Marconi

Cissy Yacavone

Carter

Loomaua

I know you aren't continuing this series, at least not currently, but it is probably the best rvb fanfiction I've ever read, and part of that is your Fed and Rebel characters.

Hi there. The answer to your question might not be satisfying in the way you’re hoping, but I’ll give you the information I can on this, and a little bit of insight into the thought process on these.

As a general rule, the New Republic wore tan as their main color and the Feds wore white as their main. This is directly from the show and differentiates the two armies from each other. While there is the potential for mixing in the future, as things stand, their main color represents loyalty, which is why neither Felix nor Locus ever wore Chorus colors.

Secondary colors denote jobs, while this could have just been an aesthetic choice, I latched onto purple being medical since Grey and Doc both ended up in the medical field. This means that purple is HEAVILY represented in Finding Washington as a color, because when you've got people falling from space and bouncing across the planet, well, they need a lot of medical personnel. I recognize that this isn’t perfect, given North and South are both in purple, but Freelancer is very different from Chorus, and it doesn’t really count.

As far as ethnicity goes, this is where mental worldbuilding takes over and isn’t necessarily going to be satisfying in the way you’d like. It’s also…well, I started this project nearly a decade ago at this point, and I wasn’t as conscious of things as I probably should have been when I started my worldbuilding and writing.

The short story is, anyone who isn’t a high-ranking Fed is a person of color/a member of a minority community, but in true Red vs Blue fashion, I’ve tried to leave specifics up to the imagination with very few exceptions as to not interfere with the longstanding tradition of facecanons.

Characters like Paez and Doyle are going to look very white and if asked would be able to trace their lineage very clearly back to the families they came from on earth. This might also be true of Grey, but would be true for anyone who could potentially end up in a position of authority in the Federal Army.

This would have eventually been important as a part of the overall backstory for the war on Chorus.

Originally, Chorus was a science outpost, but it was a military science outpost on the edge of habitable space. This is also a ‘science outpost’ that has a full city with railways and skyscrapers. In order for a location like this to operate, with this many military bases and this large of a city so far away from standard shipping and transport, Chorus needs to be completely self-sufficient.

I live near a military base in the US, and they rely heavily on the civilian town they’re attached to in order to keep the base going, but also on transport from other areas.

What would it be like to have to rely entirely on the self? It would be incredibly important that Chorus be able to sustain itself for years if necessary without outside interference. Meaning, Chorus needed enough inhabitants to work in agriculture, textile production, building and maintenance, etc. They needed enough people to increase the population and account for deaths from illness, injury, and natural causes.

Meaning they'd need to bring in families to work.

They needed people who would be less likely to be missed if they weren’t ever able to go back home.

Meaning the poor, lower class, and laborers.

They needed a way to make sure that the people in charge stay in charge.

Meaning hierarchy.

On top of having military hierarchy there would be military contractors who work for the military, but would not have been actual government employees, and below them would be the hired laborers meant to keep the planet functioning.

An example of this is Kimball. Unlike Doyle, who’s position was granted to him because he was the secretary of the Brigadier (a position he was given due to his family), Kimball was born to a family of field workers and rose through the ranks due to her hard work, tenacity, and devotion to the New Republic.

As a general rule, the rebel army is smaller because the people in it were seen as more expendable to the Feds, especially early on, and there was not a small amount of total eradication in an attempt to keep the population under control. Martial law, curfews, imprisonment without trial, and medical modification were all commonplace for those who were not in the ‘proper’ military hierarchy.

When I first started writing, it made sense to me that the people being oppressed were people of color and minorities, because that has been a running, real world experience. I don’t know how present this is in the text as written, but it was in the back of my mind as I was writing, for better or for worse.

The big problem with this is that these characters were not written with sensitivity or research in mind. They are in a far distant future, most of them were raised on a very insulated planet where the population was about the size of New York, and had very little opportunity to change their careers or continue their education or anything like that. I will not say that looking back, I didn't use that as an excuse to not do my proper research into this area, and it's something that still bothers me about FW.

Individual cultures are present, such as Smosna being outwardly and proudly Jewish or Habisch openly wearing a hijab, but I will freely admit that I did not do the proper research into cultural worldbuilding that I should have done for something like this.

I can tell you that Kimball is a black woman with dark skin and long, thin braids that she styles when she is out of uniform, though that is a rarity that she gets the opportunity due to her position. Smosna is a Jewish woman, and I have always envisioned my version of her with darker skin, a prominent nose, and dark hair that she regularly dyes into pink. Danvers has darker skin and a single brown eye.

Armor Colors are assigned based on work positions in the Federal Army and some of that is present in the New Republic, but they do tend to float a bit more than the other army.

Names are also something that are a little ephemeral in regards to the characters as well. Several of the characters have multiple names, chosen names, and gifted names. One character in particular has a complicated backstory about her name, specifically because she stole it from a dead soldier.

But realistically, if the name isn’t listed, I don’t think they had another name yet. The only character I’m certain I did have a first name for was that didn't end up published yet was Ramirez, because he didn’t have anyone friendly enough with him to call him by his less formal name.

Vanessa Kimball - Tan and Ice Blue

Katie Jensen – Tan and Red

Antoine Bitters – Tan and Orange

John Andersmith – Tan and Dark Blue

Charles Palomo – Tan and Aqua

Kyle Matthews – Tan and Yellow

Emily Grey – White and Purple

Lorenzo Paez – White and Gold

Taita Folami – Tan and Purple

Myra Danvers – white and purple

Edra – white and pale blue

Semyon Demir (Your instincts aren’t wrong, I’m fairly certain that WAS who I was thinking of in this case.) – white and red

Quetzalli – white and aqua

Chari –  Tan and Dark Blue

Raniya Habisch – white and dark blue

Sadhana -

Garza -

Mo Orwell – White and Purple

Isaiah (Shai) Ramirez – Moss Green

Elsweiz -

Silvers – tan and purple with some extra markings

Jones –

Jessica Smosna – tan and pink

Paolo Marconi – White and Moss Green

Cissy Yacavone – White and Moss Green

Carter – Tan and Purple

Luna Loomaua – white and purple

I hope that this answered your questions, feel free to ask again if I didn't answer in a satisfying way or if you have more questions.

[pleasantspark]

I aint reblogging that. But yeah.

Irish people exist, but Pentious is from England not Ireland, he doesn't have any confirmed illnesses, with the exception of eyebags, and he's pretty healthy in the flashback we see.

I am not shitting on anyone who prefers the OG design but like, at the end of the day, no one should hurl harassment at others for slighty tanning a character.

Tan does not equate to being Black. My Mother is Asian, she has a tan, is she black? Can we cut with the stigmatation please, OP isn't in the wrong here but realistically speaking OG Pen's design has paper white skin and there's NO way he has not gone outside once to go to the market. They have to eat too somehow! I dunno, I am more borderlining on the accuracy of how some people say "It's just a show"

Take a look at the short/movie Our Friend, Martin a 1999 film about Middle Schoolers going back into time to save Martin Luther King Jr. it's faithful to hisory and alternate history while also painting a grim picture of what would happen if someone alters a canon event.

I am not saying people can't be pale, but they can't be as white as a sheet. By that logic, Pendleson would be dead af. My point is, we ALREADY have characters that look pale, there's need for diversity rather then the same copy and paste nonesense we got, if you like the design as is, cool! Glad you can enjoy something, no ones forcin ya to walk on my profile and complain.

But like, as someone whose a history buff (and whose country is at risk of getting History removed.) I'd do my research if I were to write a historic backstory about sinners. Hell, I am doing research into Christianity and Catholicism in order to get an accurate depiction. While also asking some people who are into said religion to get an insight.

Repeating:

It's okay to have opposing opinions but don't yuck other peoples yums and use buzz words that lost its actual meaning overtime, you are contributing to real cases of racism being taken less seriously. Take a chill pill, don't freak out about tan people. It's not that deep.

:)

Coming up next: Pendleson x Reader

[telomeke]

✨2023: A Summary✨

Post your most popular and/or favourite edit/gifset/analysis for each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

I was tagged by:

@colourme-feral (here);

@lurkingshan (here);

@dribs-and-drabbles (here);

@ranchthoughts (here);

@chickenstrangers (here).

Thanks for tagging me, sweeties! 🥰 Hope the new year is treating you well. 😍

Apologies for being a bit late with this, but after I got back from my 2023 year-end break there was a ton of stuff to attend to, with deadlines suddenly looming much closer than they had seemed looking through eggnog goggles. 👀

But anyway I have a bit of time before the next deadline, so I'm going to use this window to try and summarize my 2023 on Tumblr. 😁 (Some of the posts referenced below may not fall into the definition of "edit/gifset/analysis" but that's just me being honest: my output on Tumblr is definitely a bit of a mixed bag! 🤣)

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✨JANUARY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – A meme summarizing Greta Thunberg's epic takedown of toxic masculizard Andrew Tate, with the help of Jerry's Pizza boxes, Elon unbanning Andrew on Twitter, and the domino effect:

‌ (above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – Of course it's something to do with Bad Buddy. 🤣 I posted about my experience viewing Bad Buddy's corner at the GMMTV Exhibition in Osaka, with photos and write‑ups about actual wardrobe and props that appeared in BBS (especially Baseball Mom and the Ep.12 memory board! 🤩):

‌ (above) Post linked here

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✨FEBRUARY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – A write-up about Jim and Li Ming's confrontation in Moonlight Chicken. More than just a teen-versus-(surrogate)-parent argument, the scene was also an insight into elder/junior dynamics and the importance of self-control in Thai culture:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – Oh don't make me choose between my kids! It's a toss-up: the more popular one is a Bad Buddy post about the pause before PatPran's second kiss on the rooftop in BBS Ep.5 (yes, THE Kiss™):

(above) Post linked here

But also sharing the Feb 2023 favorite spot in my heart is a post about GMMTV producer/director cameos (in My School President and other series) and what they might mean beyond the show:

(above) Post linked here

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✨MARCH 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – This was written after Michelle Yeoh won a SAG Award for Best Actress and was nominated for an Oscar in the same category. I thought most of her newer fans wouldn't be aware of Tan Sri Dato' Seri Michelle's death-defying stuntwork (I'm really not exaggerating here) during her earlier years as an action hero in 80s and 90s Hong Kong moviedom, so I wrote a piece about it:

(above) Post linked here

If you've not watched the video linked therein yet, you should. And then carefully pick your jaw up off the floor (as I had to, the first time I watched this). Not to give too much away, but it involves Michelle riding a motorbike helmetless atop a rickety Malaysian train carriage with no safety measures at all. 👀

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FAVORITE POST – My favorite post for March 2023 is about the characters' names in Moonlight Chicken, and it's so long I had to break it into two parts. (Whenever it's an Aof show, you can usually expect the characters' names to carry some significance, as was the case with Last Twilight and Bad Buddy too.) So Part 1 of the Moonlight Chicken post is about the names in general, what they mean for their characters and any relevance they might have for the narrative:

(above) Post linked here

And Part 2 of my favorite post for March 2023 is about Wen's name, with a detour into political color symbolism in Moonlight Chicken:

(above) Post linked here

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✨APRIL 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST AND FAVORITE POST – It's the same post doing double duty, about the prevalence of the chue len Korn as a character name in Thai dramas:

(above) Post linked here

There aren't that many actors named Korn, so I found it quite befuddling that so many characters would have that name, but there you go. And "Korn Kob" Songsit Rungnopakunsi was ultimately crowned king of the Korn harvest: 😂

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✨MAY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – Our Skyy 2 x My School President's red-hot comment on Thai politics, with Principal Ratchanee (Gun's mom) announcing a subversion of the election process:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – My favorite post in May 2023 was a look at linguistic wordplay on some t-shirts in Moonlight Chicken, touching on the themes of generational change, eggplants, etymology and cute little weiners:

(above) Post linked here

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✨JUNE 2023✨

Well! Our Skyy 2 dropped its Bad Buddy episodes beginning 31 May 2023, so June 2023 was dominated by BBS for me. 😍

MOST POPULAR POST – A (sort-of) review and analysis of the Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars episodes:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – Do I really have to choose? Top of my own list is the most popular post above, but I'm going to list another one that was just a Phupha-whisker away in second place, and it's the OS2 x BBS filming locations:

(above) Post linked here

I love research and analysis, and tracking down the Bad Buddy filming locations was especially fulfilling because it combined the opportunity for me to exercise my bloodhound instincts and also find out more about this show that I love so much. (The locations were not very well-credited in the original BBS, unlike later GMMTV offerings, so it was very satisfying hunting down mystery BBS locales based almost solely on visual clues.) I've got almost the whole list of BBS locations now, although I've yet to post the last few (which are minor locations only).

So I'm very proud of the work I've done on identifying the BBS filming locations – and also a little alarmed at how powerful Google plus a bit of logical deduction can be.

Stay safe on the Internet people! Don't ever reveal too much private information about yourself, because my time doing this and other location posts has shown me that online info can all be tracked down and consolidated to identify what might have seemed to be pretty well-hidden at the start. Which bodes ominously for privacy and safety, online or off. 👀

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✨JULY 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – A write-up about Bad Buddy's Nong Nao, Pat's beloved comfort object. But in the unraveling of Nong Nao's significance to BBS (and this was surprising to me too) we got further insight into Pat's character as well:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – OK, so the Nong Nao post above is quite my favorite for July 2023, but it also shares that spot atop my list of faves with this reply to a Bad Buddy Ask from @pandasmagorica about Pat and Pran's emotionally-laden verbal zingers on the Ep.5 rooftop, before they took that step forward beyond the point of no return and fell into The Kiss™:

(above) Post linked here

It's not just about how well the dialogue was written, or how well Ohm and Nanon brought the scene to life. Part of why this post is special to me is because the scene demonstrates how well-crafted BBS actually is, with an underlying logic and consistency that holds up no matter how hard you prod and poke at it (which, for the record, wasn't quite the case for OS2 x BBS). When you can analyze the characters, their actions and reactions in-depth as though they are real people with real motivations, and no inauthenticity shows through, you know there's been a whole lot of deep-rooted work sunk into it. I'm still in awe of what Khun Noppharnach has wrought. 👀

But there's another reason why this post is also one of my faves, and it's rather more personal.

It's because this Ask is the first one where @pandasmagorica lifted the Anon veil to use his own Tumblr name. And that was when I felt I'd made a new friend right here on Tumblr. 😍 I'm actually quite reticent in real-life, so I don't make friends easily – but I do treasure the friendships I have once made (even though I can be pretty bad at staying in touch; doesn't mean the feelings aren't there still – far from it). I'd learnt to recognize @pandasmagorica's voice even when his Asks were anonymous, and this particular Ask made my heart swell with happiness. So even though we haven't communicated directly in some time, dear @pandasmagorica, please know that you're still a treasured friend to me! 💖

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✨AUGUST 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – This was a bit of throwaway fluff, an assembling of images pointing out the visual similarity between a promotional poster for Only Friends (on the same day as the show's debut, which was 12 August 2023) and a poster for the iconic 1990s sitcom Friends:

(above) Post linked here

Image posts and zingy hot takes always garner likes and reblogs so much more easily than long, thought-driven essays on Tumblr, especially when they ride on a wave of hype (as this one did, on the absolute tsunami welling for Only Friends). Doesn't mean the post or the series are really anything of substance though! 😂

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FAVORITE POST – I have more than one in August 2023, and they were momentous for me. 🤩 The first is my analysis (loving, yet incontrovertibly loopy to the point of near-lunacy) explaining my finding why Director Aof put the incongruous Baseball Mom t-shirt on Pat in Bad Buddy Episode 5. If you've not read the explanation yet, the answer will surprise you:

(above) Post linked here

There's also a Part 2, because as usual I had so much to say, and this second part explains why PatPran's Ep.7 rooftop encounter is also a parallel with (and counterbalance for) the Epic Rooftop Kiss in Ep.5.

Anyway, my other favorite post for August 2023 is also dear to me because it points out some very clever visual rhetoric in Be My Favorite that was carefully woven into a particular scene, taking up the clarion call for marriage equality in Thailand:

(above) Post linked here

Screenwriter/director Waa Waasuthep Ketpetch really piled on the magic into this one scene. It was fun to pick it apart and look at all the different elements, within what was otherwise an only somewhat complex and not too challenging series (that still managed to be highly entertaining nonetheless). 😍

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✨SEPTEMBER 2023✨

My MOST POPULAR POST and my FAVORITE POST are one and the same, which was an apology to any legitimate Tumblr user I might have blocked (as we were facing yet another onslaught of porn bots with believable names suddenly following our Tumblr blogs):

(above) Post linked here

I then got a few snarky comments (from people whose names I didn't recognize) letting me know that people whom I've blocked can't read the post. 😮

But that's not exactly true (this is Tumblr after all). 🤣

I've since found out that if you've been blocked, you can still view the blog that blocked you, as long as you read it in blog view but not dashboard view.

If you've been blocked, here are some salient points to know:

You can't search for that blog on Tumblr (but Tumblr's search function is pretty much rubbish anyway, and you can still find the blog with a Google search).

If you know the name of the blog, then typing the URL (in the address bar) using blog view format (as opposed to dashboard view format) will still bring you there. For the difference between blog view and dashboard view (using my own Tumblr as an example) – typing telomeke.tumblr.com into the address bar will take you to my Tumblr in blog view, while typing tumblr.com/telomeke into the address bar will open my blog in dashboard view. You can still view my Archive (if I haven't hidden it) and read my posts, even if I've blocked you.

This one should be obvious – you can't like, comment on or reblog any of a blog's posts if that blog has blocked you. You can't DM that blog either. You can send Asks, but they will not be received. And that's part of the delicious irony that Tumblr bestows if you block any hater troll from your blog – you can continue posting everything that set them off in the first place, and they will still be able to see it, but they can no longer send any negativity your way. (You can also troll them back with impunity, but why waste precious time and energy like that? You won't know if they've seen your trolling, just that they can. 🤷‍♂️)

Asking to be unblocked is a bit trickier if you've been mistaken for a bot and inadvertently blocked. You'll need to ask a friend with a Tumblr account to request the unblocking on your behalf, or you'll need to set up a new Tumblr account just to send in this new Ask/message.

Anyway, the point of my post above was to let newbies know how important it is to humanize your blog, so as not to be mistaken for a bot and blocked – it would be especially rueful if the blog that blocked you (thinking you were a bot) was one you followed because you liked the content in there!

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✨OCTOBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – This was a jokey review of/(slash)/reaction to the newly-released Red Peafowl trailer:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – @pandasmagorica sent me an Ask about PatPran's sex life in Bad Buddy, and this was a fun look at the physical side of their love (that they, and Director Aof, kept mostly hidden from view):

(above) Post linked here

Because BBS is extremely self-referential, part of me now thinks they kept so much of PatPran's sex life under wraps in order to squeak by the ratings – this is what the cookout scene with Junior in Ep.11 seems to be telling us, IMO.

And they succeeded in getting a 13+ age rating, allowing Bad Buddy's message about LGBTQ+ positivity and growing into your authentic queer self to reach exactly the audience demographic that needs it (and of course even beyond them too 😊).

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✨NOVEMBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – This was a look at the meanings of Mhok and Day's names in Last Twilight:

(above) Post linked here

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FAVORITE POST – I'm cackling with fairy godfather glee because I got to inflict the warm fuzzies on people in the Bad Buddy fandom, by helping them relive their first time watching The Epic Rooftop Kiss in BBS Ep.5 (on the two-year anniversary of that event).

YouTuber "Chib" had put together an absolutely genius montage of a myriad reaction videos to The Kiss™, and my post was simply a link to it. But the ensemble of gasps and outpouring of unbridled emotion onscreen had so vividly brought back memories of my own first time watching PatPran's rooftop moment that I just knew I had to share it. I think Bad Buddy fans who watch the video will absolutely see themselves in it:

(above) Post linked here

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✨DECEMBER 2023✨

MOST POPULAR POST – The Sign really happened in a big way when December 2023 came around, and my most popular post is testament to that. I wrote about the naga and garuda mythology underpinning the narrative (hat tip to @respectthepetty for getting the ball rolling 👍) and the subject seems to have resonated with a lot of viewers because the post is still getting notes a month later:

(above) Post linked here

But the post above really should be read in tandem with others that followed, because the series is really going all in with the naga and garuda, and there's lots to take away if you're a culture and linguistics fiend like I am. Additional info linked below: 🤩

Evil jellyfish (Tharn's pet name for Phaya, a mistranslation of the Thai แมงกะพรุนไฟ that actually means fire jellyfish, which is a nod at the flames of the garuda);

Nong Khai, naga fireballs and the dance of adversaries;

More naga and garuda references in Ep.4 (although the storytelling had become a bit muddled by then).

(above left) Post linked here; (above right, top) post linked here; (above right, bottom) post linked here

The props, lighting and wardrobe are also playing their part to add to the visual feast of naga and garuda references. I may post more about these if I can find the time. 🤩

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FAVORITE POST – All the above (Signposts? 😂) are dear to me. But tying with them for top spot on my favorites list at the end of 2023 is this one, a tongue-in-cheek look at QL objects of carnal affection:

(above) Post linked here

Not meant to be taken seriously (and maybe I shouldn't have been focusing on the actors themselves instead of the characters they play) but it's all in the name of good fun. 🤣

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And that's a wrap! 🥳

Dunno who to tag next because I'm so late with this, and I think everyone will have already played by now. So I'm just going to tag creators at random (excluding those already tagged above) – if you've already done your post, please send me a link because I'd love to read (and re-read) what you've done!

@waitmyturtles

@grapejuicegay

@neuroticbookworm

@airenyah

@absolutebl

@williamrikers

@wen-kexing-apologist

@respectthepetty

@pandasmagorica

@recentadultburnout

@visualtaehyun

@inventedfangirling

@dimplesandfierceeyes

@bengiyo

@befuddledcinnamonroll

@btwinlines

@twig-tea

@blmpff

@hereforlou

@solitaryandwandering

@brazilian-whalien52

@hughungrybear

@callipigio

@dudeyuri

@kattahj

@jemmo

@non-binarypal7

@lovelyghostv

@isaksbestpillow

@shortpplfedup

@rythyme

@squeakygeeky

@starryalpacasstuff

Apologies if I've missed anyone out – if I've ever liked and/or reblogged a post of yours, please know that you're special to me too and do feel free to play along. (And do tag me please, so I can read your post! 😍)

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P.S. This site (JetBlackCode) is super-helpful in searching for and filtering your posts: 👍