#the cast calls their ship names by their surnames!

[27vampyresinhermind]

Ai Di has all the rage of four fully grown men compacted into his little feral murder bunny frame and he’s kept on a very loose leash that is half heartedly held between two fingers by Chen Yi. Not because Chen Yi doesn’t care of course, but because he knows his feral murder bunny needs to run free every once in a while and cause untold chaos before hopping happily back to his side with his leash in his mouth, ready to spit it back into Chen Yi’s waiting hand.

I wonder how small Ai Di is, because poor boy was struggling to carry a drunken Chen Yi to his bed, meanwhile Chen Yi can basically carry him with one arm like he weighs nothing. lol

Ai Di is tiny and darling. He is petite and I love him very, very much.

Because he is tiny but he is fierce. He might struggle to carry Chenyi and Zongyi might tower over him in class but there is absolutely no one Ai Di couldn't take in a fight.

Ai Di is tiny and beloved and tough as nails. But also tiny.

He fits so perfectly in Chenyi's arms.

Every single time.

[comicaurora]

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

[rederthere]

mouthwashing headcanons to get off my chest before i go feral (pt 1??)

here's my own spin on the cast's full names:

Saul Swansea. rolls off the tongue right, and im a sucker for alliteration names. i think it totally fits his gruff and grouchy vibes - also yes, we can make the obligatory "better call saul" jokes

Charles "Curly" Collins: yet another alliteration name, and i figured curly was just a nickname he went by in the game. ironically, charles is a german name that means, "free man" :)

Anya Meyers: apparently anya is a commonly derived russian name that means "grace" or "gracious." i chose meyers, because some variations of the surname can translate to "doctor", since it traces back to the latin word, "medicus."

Daisuke Mitsuda: daisuke is a japanese name that means "big, assist." naturally i wanted his last name to tie into that theme, and mitsuda means, "light, radiance." so, his full name basically translates to, "big light" which fits into him being the sunshiney character of the group...

Jimmy Shitstain Campbell: put the least effort and thot into this dude's name, cos i seriously dont gaf. i thot it'd be fitting to give him the most generic american surname, especially related to the famous campbell brand. afterall, campbell soups are cheap, mediocore, and unhealthy - just like jimbone!!!!

daisuke was 20 years old, who's been on a prolonged gap year. he originally went to college for engineering, but quickly learned how much he hated going to school. his last minute gap year decision caused some tension between him and his parents, which was why they decided to send him on the internship.

swansea is 61 years old, and has been working at the polle express for the past three decades. he's always been a blue collar guy, hopping around ships to be the mechanic. before he got stuck at his job, i think he wanted to be a pilot. not even a pilot for space, but a good old fashioned airplane pilot for earth.

anya was 28 years old, who was the youngest of three and had a sick father. her mother was overworked, and barely held everything together to support her husband and children - anya became something of an emotional support daughter for her family. despite the fact her siblings left home to find a better life, she couldn't bear to leave her parents - but due to financial stress and health concerns surrounding her father, that's why anya failed her nursing exam multiple times

additionally, due to her basically parenting her parents, she always sent her money to them. i think this is why she had no savings in the game - she wanted to take care of her family, but ended up neglecting herself

curly is 36 years old, jimmy is 39 years. they became friends through piloting school, and jimmy just latched onto curly the moment he realized how popular and well liked curly was with other people.

[convenientalias]

Please Watch Circle: Two Worlds Connected (Another Manifesto)

After convincing some ppl to watch White Christmas, I am filled with hubris and thus have returned to try to convince y'all to watch another kdrama thriller. This times it's Circle: Two Worlds Connected (2017). It's sci-fi, it's whumpy, it's got a dual timeline going on, and it's got a great cast. It's also one of the first kdramas I ever watched--I started it back in 2017, lost access to the site I was streaming it from, and 3 years later, when I became actually competent at finding kdramas, I remembered to go find it again! I've now watched it... four times? five times? anyway it's a good show so let's dive in.

The Premise

Every episode of Circle has two parts to it.

The first part: In 2017, a college student named Kim Woo-jin is having family problems. His paranoid twin brother is convinced aliens exist and are killing ppl. Woo-jin met an alien once when he was a kid, but he's been repressing this and ignoring the implications ever since bc of related trauma. Then Woo-jin's twin goes missing, and Woo-jin goes haywire trying to track him down.

The second part: In 2037, society has become a little dystopian, particularly in a closed-off island city called "Smart Earth". "Smart Earth" is supposed to be a place without crime, but when a murder takes place, Detective Kim Joon-hyuk, an outsider, worms his way in to investigate. Secretly he's more interested in investigating Smart Earth itself... and trying to find his long lost brother.

HM I WONDER IF THERE'S A REASON THESE CHARACTERS BOTH HAVE KIM AS A SURNAME. PROBABLY JUST A COINCIDENCE I WOULDNT KNOW. IM SURE THESE TWO MYSTERIES HAVE NO RELATION TO EACH OTHER AT ALL.

The Characters

Kim Woo-jin:

Yes that is Yeo Jin-goo (I feel like most of my followers have watched Beyond Evil, but if you haven't, maybe you know him from Hotel del Luna or The Crowned Clown, idk, he's great). And yes, he is incredibly stressed and will be for pretty much the entire show.

I feel like the main selling point of the first half of this show, apart from the mystery itself, really is just "do you want to see Yeo Jin-goo be so, so tired and act in progressively more insane and risky ways over the course of twelve episodes".

He is a very good brother. He also is in a dynamic duo with a girl who may or may not be an alien. More on that below.

Kim Bum-gyun

He's paranoid and he's not always the best brother. But he's trying to be better and also. He may be (at least partly) right.

Han Jung-yeon

"Hey look at me I'm a normal college student and definitely not an alien. Despite the fact that I do kind of look identical to that alien you met like fifteen years ago."

"Regardless that was not me bc I am normal. Let's become a detective duo!"

Kim Joon-hyuk

Played by Kim Kang-woo! I feel like he's a bit less known than Yeo Jin-goo but I still love him. Very versatile actor. In this he's being your typical unruly cop but with Many Secrets. Going into much more detail than that would unfortunately give spoilers but I like seeing him piss Lee Ho-soo off.

Lee Ho-soo

Nicknamed "Pierrot" by Kim Joon-hyuk for the way he's ~always smiling~, Lee Ho-soo is Smart Earth's ideal peacekeeping employee. He thoroughly believes in their dystopian mood regulating technology and closed off society and no, he does not want to learn any deep dark secrets, thank you very much!!! Leave him alone!!!! (Yeah, he's going to go through all kinds of emotional breakdowns lols.) My favorite character on my first watch-through; later I began to stan Woo-jin more but it's a close thing.

So, so, so...

Is It Shippy?

Honestly, kind of depends on what you're looking for. The most obvious ships would be Kim Woo-jin/Han Jung-yeon, a ship that is very teased but never becomes canon, and Lee Ho-soo/Kim Joon-hyuk, a classic bickering-but-gradually-coming-to-understand-each-other type of duo. There are other shippy routes you could take... my friend for example ships two of Woo-jin's professors. I personally think certain reveals could lend themself to a [REDACTED] [REDACTED] shipping dynamic, which is all too rare, but since I redacted that part you will never know what I mean by that.

Is there shippy fanfic out there? NO BECAUSE THERE ARE A TOTAL OF FOUR FANFICS FOR THIS SHOW ON AO3 AND I CANT FIND ANY ELSEWHERE EITHER. yes three of those are shippy. YES I WANT MORE PLEASE.

More General Thoughts

Circle is a little melodramatic and messy, but it is also very clever. Even after the basic worldbuilding becomes clear, you probably won't be able to guess all the answers to the mysteries until mm. Episode eleven of twelve? I mean I'm sure there are people out there much better at guessing than me but. I didn't.

I also think it's more fun to watch this show (at least the first time) with a bunch of different theories in your mind as to what happened during the time skip. I had at least three running concurrently. No, none of them were correct. I never said I was good at guessing I only said I had fun.

Not EVERY loose thread gets tied up by the end. But things do get mostly resolved. And there's a lot of angst and suspense along the way!

Here are a few more pictures to convey the vibe:

I can also offer you a minimal number (two) of goofy gifsets.

Closing thoughts:

If you've watched Circle, pls come talk to me sometime. If you haven't watched Circle, I recommend giving it a try! I can tell you that anecdotally ppl who I've forced to watch White Christmas and Circle both like Circle better (except me, I like White Christmas better but also I am to be fair obsessed with both).

And for now, I have successfully exorcised my Circle feels for the day. Probably. I hope. (I may be back.)

[godtier]

Real question, but would it really be a problem to be identified? I mean, if someone manages to find me, why would that be particularly annoying?

i'm SUPER LATE answering this, sorry. i have been dealing with a lot IRL. and sorry this became sort of long.

but to answer the question: i would say that the way i'd look at it is the consequences not just being "annoying" but also potentially unsafe.

let's say someone comes to you in DM to "inform" you that someone you're following is doing something "problematic." maybe they're drawing fanart of a ship from a shounen manga (many of which have a main cast of high schoolers, such as bleach or naruto). maybe you respond to the DM by saying "i don't care really." if that person who sent the initial message was feeling particularly "justified," they might attempt to dig up information about you.

let's say you're easy to identify and it's simple to link your account to your IRL information. using this information, this person could look up where you work, where you go to school, your address, your family members or friends, etc.

and since doxing and IRL harassment is so pervasive in the name of "enacting justice" online, this person could then, say, send messages to your boss accusing you of being a pedo or some shit. these fandom warriors will twist the narrative to make you sound like you're participating in CP or something of that nature when it's just anime/manga characters. suddenly this isn't just "annoying," but detrimental to your livelihood and reputation. it's also potentially humiliating and stressful if you have to now explain to your boss or your mother why they're getting calls or facebook messages about you being a pedo freak from randoms online.

and it doesn't even have to be "problematic" ship shit. it could be something like interacting with someone who once said the n-word 15 years ago. it could be leaving a like on a drawing and not even commenting on it. it could be reblogging or retweeting a post from a company or entity that engages with problematic things. it could be nothing at all. and it doesn't always have to end in your mother or boss getting involved. they could just start sending your harassing texts or messages or signing your email or mailing address up for spam.

it doesn't actually matter what you do online as far as engagement, whether fandom-related or otherwise, because people online are so detached from reality nowadays that they don't realize or make the connection that the people they're harassing are real. they also have so little by way of opposition in their interactions both online and offline that they oftentimes react far beyond a normal response to the smallest bit of dissent. having constant positive feedback is detrimental to social development, and most young people online have experienced nothing but positive feedback in the circles they run in. they just don't know how to handle anything else so they melt down.

and because the people they harass are The Enemy, they strip all humanity from their "target" to justify their actions. people will harass anyone over anything, and with the heated political debates and "discussions" going on recently, it's just not safe to identify yourself to strangers online in a way that could compromise your safety.

it's all relative. if you're just posting pictures of wildlife and not participating in discussions online, you'd probably be fine to post your real name. many photographers do this for online portfolio reasons, anyway. but if you routinely get involved in any online discourse, it's just not a safe environment to reveal your identity in any way whatsoever.

i'll put it this way to wrap it up: if you're having a casual, one-off chat with a stranger in line at starbucks, would you let them know what your phone number, address, surname, or email address was? probably not. you don't know how crazy they could be, right? and it's just a casual chat. first-name basis is usually fine, especially if your name is particularly common. you may not even give a name at all. that's what i mean. online interactions should be treated like a casual chat in line at starbucks. there's no need to have your entire library of PII on display at all times. shielding that information protects you from harassment and scams, and that's the bottom line.

[whileiamdying]

The Black Woman Artist Who Crafted a Life She Was Told She Couldn’t Have

The sculptor Augusta Savage at work in her studio in Harlem.

At the dawn of the Harlem Renaissance, Augusta Savage fought racism to earn acclaim as a sculptor, showing her work alongside de Kooning and Dalí. But the path she forged is also her legacy.

By Concepción de León Published March 30, 2021

In 1937, the sculptor Augusta Savage was commissioned to create a sculpture that would appear at the 1939 New York World’s Fair in Queens, N.Y. Savage was one of only four women, and the only Black artist, to receive a commission for the fair. In her studio in Harlem, she created “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” a 16-foot sculpture cast in plaster and inspired by the song of the same name — often called the Black national anthem — written by her friend, James Weldon Johnson, who had died in 1938.

The sculpture was renamed “The Harp” by World’s Fair organizers and exhibited alongside work by renowned artists from around the world, including Willem de Kooning and Salvador Dalí. Press reports detail how well the piece was received by visitors, and it’s been speculated that it was among the most photographed sculptures at the Fair.

But when the World’s Fair ended, Savage could not afford to cast “The Harp” in bronze, or even pay for the plaster version to be shipped or stored, so her monumental work, like many temporary works on display at the Fair, was destroyed.

The story of the commission and destruction of “The Harp” and its eventual fate is a microcosm of the challenges Savage faced — and the ones Black artists dealt with at the time and are still dealing with today. Savage was an important artist held back not by talent but by financial limitations and sociocultural barriers. Most of Savage’s work has been lost or destroyed but today, a century after she arrived in New York City at the height of the Harlem Renaissance, her work, and her plight, still resonate.

Augusta Savage at work on the sculpture that would become known as “The Harp.” Credit... via The New York Public Library

“Disagreeable complications”

Savage, born Augusta Christine Fells in Green Cove Springs, Fla., in 1892, was the seventh of 14 children. She started making animal sculptures from clay as a child, but her father strongly opposed her interest in art. Savage once said that he “almost whipped all the art out of me,” according to the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Savage arrived in Harlem a century ago in 1921 in the early years of the Harlem Renaissance. She was nearly 30; had already been twice married, widowed and divorced; and had a teenage child, Irene, whom she left in the care of her parents in Florida. She applied and was accepted to the Cooper Union art school, and completed the four-year program in three years. She took the surname Savage from her second husband, whom she divorced. In 1923, she married Robert L. Poston, her third and final husband. Poston died a year later.

The year she married Poston, Savage was one of 100 women awarded a scholarship to attend the Fontainebleau School of Fine Arts in Paris. But when the admissions committee realized that it had selected a Black woman, Savage’s scholarship was rescinded.

In a letter explaining the decision, the chairman of Fontainebleau’s sculpture department, Ernest Peixotto, expressed concern that “disagreeable complications” would arise between Savage and the students “from the Southern states.”

Savage did not accept the rejection quietly. “She used the Black press to make the limits that she was facing known to the larger national and international public,” Bridget R. Cooks, an art historian and associate professor at University of California, Irvine, said. “She had a real determination and sense of her own talent and a refusal to be denied.”

In the years after the Fontainebleau episode, Savage was commissioned to create busts for prominent African-American figures such as the sociologist and scholar W.E.B. Du Bois and the Jamaican activist Marcus Garvey. She also created “Gamin,” a painted plaster bust portrait based on her nephew that became one of her most well-known pieces, praised for its expressiveness. (It was later cast in bronze.)

“Gamin” earned her a Julius Rosenwald fellowship in 1929 to travel to Paris, which had become a refuge for Black artists, including the painter Palmer Hayden and the sculptor Nancy Elizabeth Prophet. Savage studied at the Académie de la Grand Chaumière and had works displayed at the Grand Palais and other prominent venues.

When she returned to Harlem in 1932, she opened the Savage Studio of Arts and Crafts, where she taught prominent artists such as Jacob Lawrence, Gwendolyn Knight, Norman Lewis and Kenneth B. Clark. Clark later turned to social psychology and developed, with his wife Mamie, experiments using dolls to show how segregation affected Black children’s self-perception.

The community-driven education that Savage championed is part of the African-American tradition, Dr. Cooks said, because Black people have historically been excluded from formal academic spaces. “But for her to open her own school is something entirely different,” Dr. Cooks added. “That is becoming a business person. That’s taking on a leadership role for which she doesn’t have any models in terms of Black people in the art world and Black women in particular. ”

In 1934, Savage became the first African-American member of the National Association of Women Painters and Sculptors (now the National Association of Women Artists). In 1937, she worked with the W.P.A. Federal Art Project to establish the Harlem Community Art Center and became its first director. Eleanor Roosevelt, who attended its inauguration, was so impressed with the center that she used it as a model for other arts centers across the country.

Gwendolyn Bennett, Sara West, Louise Jefferson, Augusta Savage and Eleanor Roosevelt in 1937. Credit... The New York Public Library/Schomburg Center

“She created a pathway for careers for Black artists,” Tammi Lawson, the curator of the art and artifacts division of the Schomburg Center, which has the largest holding of Savage’s work, said. “She taught them, she gave them the tools, and she got them work.”

Sandra Jackson-Dumont, the director and chief executive officer of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art in Los Angeles, agrees. “She, for me, represents someone who believed that she wasn’t compromising her studio practice or who she was by teaching and bringing people along,” said Ms. Jackson-Dumont, adding that Savage understood “how to use the system’s resources to catalyze folks.”

Yet the later years of Savage’s artistic career were marked by adversity. After taking a hiatus to work on her sculpture for the World’s Fair, Savage returned to the Harlem Community Art Center to find that her job had been filled. She briefly tried to establish the Salon of Contemporary Negro Art in Harlem in 1939, but the gallery lasted only three months.

“Joe Gould’s Teeth,” a 2016 book by the historian Jill Lepore, revealed archival evidence that Gould, an eccentric writer, had harassed Savage by calling her incessantly, insulting her, following her to parties and telling people she had agreed to marry him. In the early 1940s, Savage abruptly left her home in Harlem for a farmhouse in Saugerties, N.Y., in the Catskill Mountains, where she continued to make busts and teach local children. In Harlem, the community art center she had founded was closed in 1942 when federal funds were cut during World War II.

Savage remained in Saugerties until Gould died in 1957 and she only later returned to Harlem. She died in relative obscurity in March 1962 of cancer, at 70.

“A blueprint for what it means to be an artist that centers on humanity”

Jeffreen Hayes, who is now a curator and the executive director of Threewalls, an arts nonprofit in Chicago, was a graduate student at Howard University when she learned about Augusta Savage’s work. A professor mentioned the sculptor in passing during a section on the Harlem Renaissance.

“I remember my professor showing slides of Augusta Savage,” Dr. Hayes said, “and then we just kind of moved on.”

Dr. Hayes, though, was struck by this story of a resilient Black woman whose greatest works have been lost but who made a life as an artist, teacher, arts center director and community organizer against the backdrop of Jim Crow laws and the Great Depression.

“I don’t think about Augusta Savage as someone who only made objects,” Dr. Hayes said, but rather as someone who “has really left behind a blueprint of what it means to be an artist that centers humanity.”

In 2018, Dr. Hayes curated the exhibition “Augusta Savage: Renaissance Woman” at the Cummer Museum in Jacksonville, Fla., which aimed, according to the catalog, to “reassess Harlem Renaissance artist Augusta Savage’s contributions to art and cultural history in light of 21st-century attention to the concept of the artist-activist.”

“Savage’s artistic skill was widely acclaimed nationally and internationally during her lifetime,” the catalog reads, “and a further examination of her artistic legacy is long overdue.”

At a moment when discourse has centered on the artistic and political role of public art and monuments, the continuing absence of a work like “The Harp” becomes even more acute.

After the Civil War, as cities evolved in the 19th and 20th centuries, sculptors formed close alliances with architects, such that parks, town squares and other public spaces were designed with sculptures in mind. Unlike paintings, which are typically housed in museums, sculptures and monuments hold an outsized symbolic value because of their presence in public life.

“Your public art should align with a community’s values,” said James Grossman, the executive director of the American Historical Association. “Every generation, each state should step back and say, maybe it’s time for somebody else” to be honored.

Savage with her sculpture “Realization” in 1938. Credit... Andrew Herman, via The New York Public Library/Schomburg Center

In assessing “Augusta Savage: Renaissance Woman,” the Times art critic Roberta Smith noted of another Savage sculpture titled “Realization”: “It never made it beyond its forcefully modeled nearly life-size clay version. It’s heartbreaking to think the difference its survival might have made.”

Recently, in the context of questions over Confederate monuments, there have been calls to recreate Savage’s “The Harp” and display it at the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington.

Savage viewed her own legacy with humility, putting the emphasis on the success of her students. In a 1935 interview in Metropolitan Magazine, she said, “I have created nothing really beautiful, really lasting, but if I can inspire one of these youngsters to develop the talent I know they possess, then my monument will be in their work.”

Dr. Cooks said she “would disagree” with Savage’s assessment of her own work; “I think everybody would,” she added. For Dr. Cooks, it’s clear that Savage saw her legacy as “someone who could set up opportunities for other people who were younger than her, to have the space to build a Black infrastructure, essentially, so they could succeed.”

In this sense, Savage’s legacy lies as much in the life she built for herself as in the work she made for the world, as evidenced in surviving film of Savage guiding students or creating sculpture in her studio.

In her work at Threewalls, Dr. Hayes said she aims to honor Savage’s mission: to “build a larger ecology that intentionally builds a relationship with community,” as Dr. Hayes put it.

Dr. Hayes didn’t have the support of people like Savage to guide her in the art world early on. “I feel really good that I can pass on that wisdom to the next generation coming up,” she said.

A correction was made on:

March 31, 2021 An earlier version of this article misstated the surname of the director and chief executive officer of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art in Los Angeles. She is Sandra Jackson-Dumont, not Dumont-Jackson.

A correction was made on April 5, 2021 An earlier version of this article misstated the year of Joe Gould's death. He died in 1957, not 1954. When we learn of a mistake, we acknowledge it with a correction. If you spot an error, please let us know at nytnews@nytimes.com.

[aghhtdraws]

ship name or not?

so I wanted to make a short post to get these thougs off my head but it'll get lost on my main so here it goes!

this doesn't really concern anyone who usually visits this blog for art, but it's more a thinkpiece related to the newer/younger tmnt Leo x Usagi ship (rottmnt x usagi chronicles respectively)

I’m seeing a lot of confusion (kinda) abt the tags to use and want to propose an alternative. How about “yuinardo” ? it sounds kind of funny (like the two characters), doesn’t sound like anything else (as far as my google search can reach), uses both their unique names and also capitalizes on how Rise!Leo is often called Nardo by his brothers as a nickname - among others, but that’s one of his most unique nicknames in the series and feels unique to Rise specifically. And Yui bc Yuichi - also just his name but a unique part of it.

I guess maybe the longer name could be something like "cityxfarm sword" bc those are the three consistent elements abt this younger ship. I know the latter is kind of uncreative but I can't think of anything better atm haha x'D

I was never around much for the 2003 leosagi ship bc- I was a baby on neopets and not online enough for that? 2003 tmnt was pretty new here and didn't air as often/quickly but also even in the later 00s, I did not really seek out fanfic relating to it bc - again, teen with not enough time lol, also social media and internet weren't really the thing they are now, so i wasn't really aware there could be fanfic of it. shipped and read other things. So maybe I don't know all my leosagi history. I kinda stayed away from the tmnt fandom in general bc it was mostly all angsty which I didn't really gel with anymore. alternatime ship names have always been a thing in all fandoms but I think right now we've been having the most versions of these two characters or this dynamic than ever before.

the 2018 Rise Leo x Usagi Chronicles has been getting more popular. ROTTMNT was a 2018 reiteration of the tmnt for animation that was really under-appreciated and has slowly become more appreciated as the fandom re-grew with the 2022 movie in august.

Usagi Chronicles is a spin-off/soft-reboot led by fans of Usagi Yojimbo, Stan Sakai's original comic about Miyamoto Usagi, but this time he is a great ancestor of a new character, Yuichi Usagi! and this Usagi is a creation of Doug and Candie Langdale (exec producers) + Khang Le (who I think designed/developed Yuichi's look?). So basically this is like a canon-supported fan-AU with an original character cast thematically based on the og comic cast (Usagi and his friends match Miyamoto Usagi and *his* friends) + the "Senso" Usagi comic as a worldbuilding point.

His naming is a bit confusing bc in Japan, Yuichi is usually a first name, but here in the show it feels like it's treated like a surname. But apparently, there was an intentional marketing move to have this be the opposite? So his real surname is Usagi, while his given name is Yuichi? There was a whole post about it, but I can't remember where else I've heard it.

Anyway, this series is my fave right now and I think it's fun in both it's lightheartedness and it's more touching moments and I love all the character and family dynamics and themes that it has. I think it's fun that people ship him and Rise!Leo because they are actually really similar in some personality aspects. I saw this show, realized there was crossover potential with Rise and thought, "oh, it'll be fun to do actiony scenes and stories with this kind of friendship!" Anyway, I'll do a deep-dive on that later.

Everybody likes this young version of Leo and then I guess at some point before 2021, other fans started making ship art/fic with Usagi? Often their own versions of Miyamoto Usagi, fitted for the Rise TMNT world bc the two never managed to have a crossover with this iteration bc of Nickelodeon pausing the show abruptly in 2020. I wasn't very online in 2018 so idk when else the ship happened, maybe when the finale of the show aired and the "unpausing" was finalized and fans realized there wasn't going to be a crossover? but now with the movie, more ppl have discovered that there's also a cartoon series for Usagi! And more people are slowly understanding/remembering maybe that this Usagi character has had previous iterations, ppl make their own versions/AUs for fun based on the newer Usagi show, or they don't watch the Usagi show and just make their own modern/ROTTMNT versions of Miyamoto Usagi in general.

This ship is a bit unique bc they are stated to be exactly the same age and they have very similar vibes as characters (goofs on the team + faux confidence + showoffs). When I first found that other people shipped this too, I just called it "2020s Leosagi" bc again, just the main thing abt them is that they're younger characters for a younger audience in their respective shows. + it's funny that there's almost a Leosagi friendship for every decade. I've also heard the term "cringe naenae babies" from friends but i don't really know what this meme means lol xD

I don't have beef or anything with the Leoichi/Leochi tag+name but it's sorta confusing for me personally bc it sounds both too short vocally and also like Leo's alone or something (Leo+ichi) I'm not fluent in japanese so I might b wrong, but just a thought. Leochi sounds similarly short.

then there's also the Usagi's who are complete OCs (w new names) and where do you fit those ships? and idk, I guess I just wanted to think abt this YuiNardo ship name more in-depth, just to think abt it , a bit for fun, bc I really do think it's a fun name but also make a new umbrella term, so maybe people would find it easier to tag stuff! but I usually don't interact with other fans in larger fandoms and ship fandoms like this so idk, this could easily be more confusing x3

Anyway, I think as fandoms and shipping go, it would be more fun to have multiple tags for different experiences, +these are different ships/versions of the characters so it feels like it would make sense. Just my fandom experience from previous years + for organizing/better finding + I feel like shipping should be fun, cuz in the end, this is just based from the og TMNT and Usagi creators being friends and making smth fun with these characters!

TL;DR - YuiNardo sounds like a funny/fun leosagi ship name for this younger iteration of the Rise!Leo-Yuichi Usagi friendship/relationship, and I wanna use it as the ship name going forward bc ships should b about fun and creativity, right? anyway, u can also use it if u want to! no pressure, just sorta putting it out there. - Aghht out!

Addendum(1.03.23): apparently, the Katanashipping tag was specifically for the 2003 ship - as well as the og Leosagi tag, bc that Leo x Miyamoto Usagi started it all. That makes sense! Sorry that I mis-tagged it originally! I did not know until finding the tags on tumblr and going thru them to the start of the tag - bc I'd been keeping away from the tmnt fandom for a long time after the 12 show + never saw it during the 03 show's run bc I wasn't online as much + social media didn't exist in the way it does now. I think everyone used Leosagi for that bc it made sense. I'll keep the tags for this post specifically in the hopes that more ppl will find it then and it'll give food-for-thought about this. Katanashipping of course doesn't make as much sense for the newer ship bc the shows have not had crossovers + while both characters seem like they are a bit obsessed w swords in different teen boy ways (preferring swords bc they are big and flashy), they are not as centered about the swords or swordsmanship as much as the 03 characters.

I know it seemed more like Leosagi was a catchall for all the Leo x Usagi ships, but now it makes more sense that it's not bc it's made searching for content harder. I like the "younger version" but i like the og too bc that's what I shipped as a teen (when the 03 show characters all just looked like Really Old Teens to me). I suppose that's just how the internet's sorta become - there'd shorter memory abt stuff, but fandoms especially as folks move on from shows they like and some of the history of fandom becomes lost. I've been on social media for so long now, I totally forgot how specific ship names could get. I guess that's why I suggested YuiNardo for the "new" version - it sounds unique. If ppl already shipped Rise Leo with their own versions of a younger Miyamoto Usagi and original Usagis, the "youngest" ship with Yuichi x Rise Leo needed it's own tag and that became Leochi/Leoichi (and w the earlier Rise Leo x Usagi ships, everyone must have used the Leosagi tag then too? Further investigation must be made about this...) now this Yuichi Usagi x Rise Leo version seems unique bc Yuichi is basically a canon fancharacter in a sense, as a descendant he is like a homage. But I like the character and I see that a lot of ppl continue to make their own versions or borrow elements of the Y!Usagi from SRTUC... but this means that almost all versions of Usagi depicted by fans are ALL fanon versions... and that's fine, I like how creative fans can get! But also that means we almost never see thr "full" show version of Yuichi Usagi in fanart (altho fanfic is a different matter, if only slightly). But that makes me a bit sad bc I think this version deserves to exist in our fanon and headcanons too, y'know? I guess my flaw in all this is that I actually lile SRTUC and its own og depiction of Y!Usagi bc he is a fun character for me while not many other ppl seem to like him. Like with so many other rare shows I like where fanon is louder than canon 😂

So, yeah Yui x Nardo. cute ship. if only there was more of it ^^; But a lot of the fanworks are still really interesting in their own rights. I think I'll keep using Yuinardo for the show versions and then Leochi for any other fans' versions. That makes sense, right?

Anyway, non-serious discussion over! Just some silly fan-stuff to mull over during school breaks and other free time.

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

Some thoughts on ship naming conventions across fandoms, bc that's what I was thinking about in the shower this morning:

I just think it's super interesting how it changes from fandom to fandom? Like okay. You have the SPN style of just smushing names together, Destiel (Dean Winchester + Castiel) Sabriel (Sam Winchester + Gabriel)

But then you look at like, the My little pony fandom and while they do the sorta the same thing it reads different bc the world of equestria has it's own naming conventions that lend to this, so rather than getting smashed together the ship names are compounded and ended up taking the first word or syllable from one characters name, and the last syllable or word from the second and you get stuff like FlutterCord (Fluttershy + Discord) or AppleDash (Apple Jack + Rainbow Dash)

AND THEN, if you look at at Doctor who, this is a show that had been a thing for 50+ years right, and the cast of characters is just so fuckin massive that the fandom has resorted to the very simple yet effect method of the characters names combined by slashes and X's. EXCEPT. there are a shit ton of variations of the same character so that's differentiated by nickname, numbers or the actors name like. Okay. You have Rose x ten. Which is. Rose Tyler and the doctor but the tenth incarnation if the character SPECIFICALLY. but you also have Rose x TenToo which is Rose Tyler and the godamn clone of the tenth incarnation if the doctor. And shipping is pretty straight forward with the doctor bc all their incarnations are numbered, but then you look at the Master, and since we have no idea how many incarnations there are of the bastard the surname if the actor portraying them is use instead of a number, so we get shit like. Simm! Master or Delgado! master.

OH AND THEN? if you look at one if the most popular ships, Doctor/Master there are literally so many different names for them? I mean it makes sense these are the characters with the most variations but it varies from shit like Three x Delgado! to names that were made specifically for different incarnation pairings. Timecock having been used commonly for Ten x Simm! and Twissy being used specifically for Twelve x Missy. Whom would probably be referred to as Gomez! We're it not for the differentiating factor that they are the only female incarnation of the master thus far. Oh and then, can't forget about Thoschei, because that is yet another name for them, which uses the smushing technique with the names the characters had before the were called the doctor and the master (Theta and Koschei )

And then you have fandoms like Wander over yonder where it's not the names of the characters that's taken into consideration, but rather, their physical attributes and personality. Black eye? Sylvia has a penchant for punching people out and commander peepers is a little fucking eyeball man with legs Skeleton dance. Wander is this peppy little fuck running around with a banjo and h

Hater is. A fucking. Skeleton.

It's poetry.

I don't even know what is going on in the Invader Zim fandom with the letter thing? Is it an acronym or a combination of different characters initials? Idk! All I know is it fucking works all across the board and the entire fandom adopted the system so kudos to whoever came up with it!

And then look at the Danny phantom fandom. Some of them make sense, using character attributes or parts of their names. Amethyst Ocean, (Sam and Danny, uses their eye colors as a defining feature) Grey Ghost

(utilizes Valerie's last name and Danny being half ghost)

Some of them just try to work of off perceived personality traits and sorta fail miserably but we've been using them for so long there's no point in changing them? Like. Savant par, (Tucker x Danny) and swagger bushie (Danny x dash)

But this master list someone made is so old and we've been using it for so long that it's ingrained in the fandom. I have noticed that newer ships are following the names and traits combo more consistently tho, like Dark Ages (Pariah dark x Clockwork, utilizes prior surname and references clockworks powers)

Idk. Its just. Very interesting how these things develop. I'm sure someone who actually knows jack shit about linguistics would have more fun breaking this shit down but. Yeah.

[xoteajays]

the mcu rewrite: sunverse | main ocs | pt.2

farrah swyft came from money. the swyfts were up there with the worthingtons and the osborns, rubbing elbows with the wealthy in whatever city they were living in at the time; or, at least, her parents did while their twin daughters, farrah and delilah, were shipped off to an australian boarding school. that was the past now though, farrah had long since left that ‘life of luxury’ behind, ever since her family discovered she was a mutant. there weren’t anti-mutant, not in the way most stereotyped. they just wanted her to hide her abilities and pretend she was perfectly human. farrah couldn’t bear it. at eighteen, she pulled out just enough money to get her to westchester, particularly the aptly named ‘school for the gifted’. parhelion would never pass jean grey, but she was happy to be xavier’s ‘second best’, even if she never truly took on that ‘x-man’ title for herself. 

sālote esau, or ‘sasha‘ as she preferred, had once had little care in the world. she didn’t have much vision towards her future, she was happy to glide by through life, allowing herself whatever pleasures. then the other foot drops. out of nowhere, a heart attack hits her, something to do with a defect from birth that her parents had never told her about. surgery goes well, but sasha is shaken, her mind doesn’t heal as quickly as her body does. she’s a recluse, until she discovers kamar-taj. determined that she could be helped there, she heads off. it takes years, successes and failures, but eventually she becomes arcane of the mystic arts. if she could’ve ever figured out working her sling ring properly, maybe she wouldn’t have ended up flung across space, ending up on some trash-hole planet called ‘sakaar’.

doctor leta ‘letty’ shivers was normal. really, she was! okay, she had an odd surname that sounded ‘perfectly villainous’ when coupled with her doctorate; and maybe sometimes she heard things that weren’t actually there. but she was normal! maybe. hopefully. at least she didn’t have to mention it when she interviewed for her s.h.i.e.l.d position. she likes her job, she likes a lot of her fellow agents, she even gets close with renowned geneticist helen cho! it’s a shame that working with s.h.i.e.l.d is exactly what gets her sucked into the avengers’ business and standing in a wakanda lab in 2018 with an ominous snapping in her ear as aliens, once again, descend onto earth.

oc cast: - hannah van der westhuysen as farrah swyft / parhelion. - lucianne buchanan as sasha esau / arcane. - kirby howell-baptiste as dr letty shivers.

[the-ghost-king]

wait Apollo isn’t originally greek? thats so interesting 👀👀

Where ever did you hear that? /ij

Definitely putting all of this under a read more, it’s a long one!

Cw: Greek statues, they're naked :/

But yeah, Apollo was actually an inherited god, it’s likely that because of this as well he was a blending of multiple different gods to some extent. It’s also good to note that Apollo’s name is unknown, meaning that nobody really knows what exactly Apollo means, which is pretty weird all things considered about the Greeks who placed such importance on the god’s forenames (ie, phoebeus, acestor, age’tor, etc). 

"Though Apollo was the most Hellenic of all gods, he derived mostly from a type of god that originated in Anatolia and spread to Egypt by way of Syria and Palestine." (X)

There’s a couple of different things which point to Apollo being a Anatolian god (or being of, coming from him) named Appaliunas, and it is said they were on opposite sides of a war most beloved of their people during the fight. It’s important to note that it’s believed Appaliunas means “father light” and that he shows some level of importance over drafting peace treaties (which Apollo has some reputation in as the bringer of civilized order). We don't know too much about their connections however, because the documents are incomplete.

This theory also makes sense, because the name Leto (Apollo’s mother) is Lydian in origin, and there’s decent connections to her having been worshiped on the coast's of Asia Minor. And it is known the Greeks have adopted Anatolian gods into their religion before, see Cybele (sometimes called Cybele-Rhea), and the origin of Kore (later Persephone). There's stuff which points also to an Anatolian goddess called "Artimu" (Artemis) who is often confused to Cybele for some reason, and again this bears connections to the Lydians which worshipped Leto. There's information which points to Hekate being a goddess from Anatolia as well, which shows significance considering she is Apollo and Artemis's cousin (leading to my personal question of was Phoebe Anatolian in origin?). Apollo's divine number being 7 shows Babylonian or at least Mesopotamian Origin.

The Geographical location of these two places also bears similarities, they are close to one another, and it's known the Greeks had decent travel capabilities over water. There's also the fact that both of these lands border Troy, which is shown to have significant values in Greek culture and mythology, as well as the Greek belief that the Anatolian gods were present at Troy as well as the Greek gods.

(It's also notable the similarities in naming traditions, Alaksandu for one such example, does not sound too far off from the later Latin name Alexander, which came from the Greek name Aléxandros).

The other possible origin given for Apollo is Aplu (Apulu), a Hurrian god (of people who lived in Anatolia, Syria, and Northern Mesopotamia). Aplu and Apollo bear semblance to one another in more than name, Aplu was the god of plague (bringer of the plague more specifically) and he bears a large amount of resemblance to Apollo Parno'pius/Smitheus and Aplu's main story provides reasoning as to why Apollo may also be the god of healing and Medicine.

The story of Aplu involves the idea that the individual which brings the plague, must also be the one to banish it. This makes Aplu both bringer of plague(s) but also, protector from plague(s). From this we learn Aplu's name means "son of" (please note here Apollo's iconographic connections to "youth" and "sonship" among the Greeks, as the god of kouros), but the connection of "the son of" was a title granted also to the god Nergal (worshiped by many different people(s) across Mesopotamia) who is at least in part someone who holds power over the sun, and holds connection to Shamash (Utu).

Aplu is also often depicted naked (ya know) but wearing a laurel leaf, and part of a cloak... It's funny how these images are Apollo though:

Aplu is also symbolized by a staff and laurel a twig(s), while we know Apollo to be associated closely with the laurel because of Daphne, and Apollo having iconography related to staffs involves him giving his away to Hermes- which perhaps has to do with the caduceus being interpreted as the symbol for medicine, or the connection of Apollo to Asclepius and the rod of Asclepius.

Aplu isn't isolated necessarily either, there is also the Etruscan goddess Aritimi (Artume, Artames, or Artumes) and she oversees animals, human assemblies, and is considered a hunting deity. As well as scrolling through this list, you'll note more than one Greek/Roman mythological figure.

There's also a ton of stuff from Etruscan mythology (Hurrian mythology is just a subsect of Etruscan mythology) which overlaps with Greek mythology, some sources even state Etruscan -> Greek -> Roman mythology (I wont comment on that because I don't know well enough).

There's some other places Apollo's name might have come from, but those are probably the two most likely under the assumption that Apollo is a collective of many gods.

These are the specifics of the Anatolian god's Apollo may be born of/from, but there's a variety of things which point to him and mythology around him being of other origins as well (Minoan, Dorian, and Proto-Indo-European... yeah)

You may have heard one of Apollo's sacred animals is dolphins, Apollo Delphinios/Delphidios, this is because of a Minoan god named Paiawon (Paion) who was worshiped on Crete and also originated in Delphi. In the second part of Homeric hymn to Apollo, Apollo would transform his shape into that of a dolphin and carry the new priests to Delphi for the transfer of religious practices:

"Phoebus Apollo pondered in his heart what men he should bring in to be his ministers in sacrifice and to serve him in rocky Pytho. And while he considered this, he became aware of a swift ship upon the wine-like sea in which were many men and goodly, Cretans... Phoebus Apollo met them: in the open sea he sprang upon their swift ship, like a dolphin in shape, and lay there, a great and awesome monster, and none of them gave heed so as to understand but they sought to cast the dolphin overboard. But he kept shaking the black ship every way and making the timbers quiver. So they sat silent in their craft for fear, and... so they kept sailing on; for a rushing south wind hurried on the swift ship from behind... They wished to put their ship to shore, and land and comprehend the great marvel and see with their eyes whether the [dolphin] would remain upon the deck of the hollow ship, or spring back into the briny deep where fishes shoal. But the well-built ship would not obey the helm, but went on its way all along Peloponnesus and the lord, far-working Apollo, guided it easily with the breath of the breeze..." (X)

Apollo Delphinios was largely only worshiped by people of Crete and surrounding islands, but this is also largely where Paiawon was worshiped as well. There's also many things from early Grecian history which simply state Apollo to be Paiawon or of Paiawon, or at least doesn't bother to specify which god is being talked about.

In the earlier parts of Greek history, seventh-sixth century, there was distinctions made between the pair:

"and in Solon's opinion it is Apollo who makes a man a μάντις (soothsayer) but healers do the work of Paion" (X)

The whole thing with Apollo being descended from Paiawon however, is that Paiawon may not be Minoan but Mycenaean in origin, which means even if Apollo is originated in Minoan culture one of the gods who has influenced that origin wasn't even necessarily Minoan but taken in. Others believe Paiawon was Minoan or Aegean in origin but very far in the past, since his songs used a meter of pre-Greek origin.

You'll also not the commonalities between Paion (a spelling of Paiawon) and Paean (also spelled Paian), Apollo's original name according to Homer. It could mean a variety of things but "who heals illnesses through magic" and "pre-greek" are the most common translations of the word Paean, but it is also associated with music (most specifically a song sung by Thetlas who cured the Spartans) and is said to denote hymns for Apollo.

"PAEAN, that is, "the healing," is according to Homer the designation of the physician of the Olympian gods, who heals, for example, the wounded Ares and Hades. After the time of Homer and Hesiod, the word Paian becomes a surname of Asclepius, the god who had the power of healing. The name was, however, used also in the more general sense of deliverer from any evil or calamity, and was thus applied to Apollo and Thanatos, or Death, who are conceived as delivering men from the pains and sorrows of life... From Apollo himself the name Paean was transferred to the song dedicated to him, that is, to hymns chanted to Apollo for the purpose of averting an evil, and to warlike songs, which were sung before or during a battle." (X)

In regards to the possibility of Apollo having been of Minoan origin, one must consider not only his origins but the origins of the gods and goddesses around him and how they may have developed over time.

In this case Britomartis (Diktynna) is of particular interest, she was the Minoan "mistress of animals", she was a goddess (or sometimes nymph, or oread) of the mountains and the hunt. There's points to the name meaning "sweet maiden" or other similar things, but it is debatable.

Eventually Britomartis would become the goddess of nets in Hellenic myths, and would simply be closely identified with the goddess of Artemis. However, to the Minoans Britomartis wandered alongside a bow-wielding male hunter who's name has been lost, it is likely that aspects of this hunter were absorbed into Apollo; when the introduction of worshiping Artemis was brought to the island of Crete where Britomartis was also worshiped they were compared and quickly said to be of one another.

It is also said in some variations the myths of Britomartis that she was taken to the mainland in the nets of men after fleeing Minos, this seems like a euphemism for her as a goddess of worship being brought by fisherman to mainland and taken into their culture and worship, more so than it sounds like a goddess's story. Perhaps this led to her becoming Artemis, although most myths seem to agree Artemis gave Britomartis immortality... So who knows, but it's a point of particular interest for me.

Also I know I mentioned proto-indo-european origins for Apollo and I could analyze gods and goddesses relating to Apollo being a Minoan god like Aphaea, but I am not going to lie I am rather sick mostly of sourcing everything and I don't like to talk about stuff without stuff to back me up because I don't want to come across like I'm pulling information or ideas out of thin air because that's how misinformation spreads... But yeah, here's a somewhat simplified piece on Apollo's possible origins as a pre-Hellenistic god, and I hope you enjoy because I know you sent the ask a bit ago <3

[riddlegecko]

Okay, I've given TCBOB a second watch, now for my big disorganized assorted thoughts post!!

Not really sure where to start, so I'll just say that the character dynamics were easily the best part of the show for me. I love watching these characters interact, it's a blast.

I spent 95% of my high school years homeschooled, and I barely did any theatre (choir, yes, theatre, not so much). So with that in mind, I think that Bethanne and Eric were the two most relatable characters to me. I think even if you take away the high school theatre stuff from the show, the gist of their characters is still there. And hey, I can relate to both "oh dear god, i have no clue what i'm gonna be" and "feelings are the worst, so what if i just Didn't".

I think Jean still ended up being my fave from a personal standpoint tho, she's great. I love her dynamic with Max (i'm not sure if they were intending to write in ship tease for them, but i certainly got that vibe at some points. whatever the case, really endearing friendship), Body Language was an incredibly fun and charming song, and her weird Thing for Theo was hilarious. I love one (1) jaded single threat dancer with questionable tastes in men.

This may be my favorite Clark soundtrack yet, every song was a banger. I loved the whistling in Chill, and the vocal warm-up section of Professional, I think they really gave those songs a strong identity. Alex's interludes (the "tony mango wants to thank you for all your work today..." bits, idk if they have names) are really great, I love how each one gets progressively faster and I hope they'll be on the cast album. As I said, Body Language was a fun and charming little bop. All of Cole and Bethanne's songs were really sweet, their budding romance was just really cute and interesting in general. I could go on, but this post'll be long enough as is. In short, great soundtrack, beats Spies by an absolute mile.

Two kinda nitpicky things that I do sorta hope get changed down the line, 1. Let Cole be present for the end of the party when Theo gets kicked out (just kinda felt weird that she was the only one not present imo), and 2. Let us learn the surnames of more than three characters, please.

On the subject of names, why are Joshua and Estelle just called "Freshman #1" and "Freshman #2" in the credits anyway? They have names, and they only go nameless for like the first 20-30 minutes.

🎵 "THAT'S ABSOLUTELY A FUCKING LIIIIIIE" 🎵

Garrett my beloved <3

Subtle joke that I thought was really clever, Estelle saying "I don't wanna play one of those characters that shows up and then disappears for the rest of the act", and then she and Joshua proceed to disappear for the rest of the act.

...I feel like I had more things to say, but my mind has just completely drawn a blank, whoops. Whatever the case, loved the show, can't wait to see how it evolves down the line!

[xbustian]

                CHARACTER PARALLELS    

    Crowley  (  Good Omens   )   ,    Kaz  Brekker   (   Six  of  Crows   )   ,   Faith  Lehane  (  Buffy   )   ,    Roy  Kent  (  Ted Lasso  )    ,   Thomas  Shelby  (   Peaky Blinders   )   ,    Berlin   (   Money Heist  )   ,    Annalise  Keating   (   HTGAWM   )

TIDBITS:

Age   :   20   (  Jan 13   )    

Born    :   Limerick

Father   :   TBD

Mother   :    Azra

Step--Mother    :    TBD

Half-Brother   :   Rodolphus 

SECOND-PERSON HISTORY BITS:

You were born into royalty           the bastard son of a whore, but a Lestrange prince nonetheless, second only to your older half-brother, Rodolphus. Despite the dimpled smile and chubby cheeks, you were nothing but a spare. A safety net. A necessary mistake as your birth mother was sent away with a dark threat lingering over her. Should anyone ask: you were the product of a perfect marriage. You would call the woman who despised you, despised what you reminded her of, MOTHER. 

Despite the circumstances, your father looked upon you with proud features. His chest stuck out and he held his head high as he appraised his two sons like a diamond he would consider buying. But when you burrowed deep within the sheets of your bed, or played those childish games with whatever nanny your mother hired that week, your father was busy appraising other avenues. You didn’t realize this when you were younger, but your father controlled an impressive legacy. He was the captain of a rich and beautiful figurative ship, compared only to the Flying Dutchman. 

He produced fear like a billionaire entrepreneur.

It took a long time for you to realize what exactly your role in the family was. The cavalry, they called you. The warrior who would ride in and save whoever was lost or in danger. You see, as you grew older, and your temper began to surface, your proud parents no longer viewed you as a simple back-up plan. No, you were so much more than that. You were to act as a confidant to your brother          an easy enough task, you thought ignorantly, seeing as you had already taken up the mantle. But the cavalry was a heavy crown to rest upon your head, and you began to feel the weight the more your parents discussed your future. Because even at eleven,  or  thirteen,  or  fifteen,  you could see their definition of  cavalry  change. It adapted the more they viewed your growth. You were too smart, too tough to be thrown in the background. You were made to stand up front with the rest.

You began to feel separated from yourself. People would discuss you, in front of you, and you would think they were bragging about some stranger you never met. You even found yourself thinking, God, this bastard sounds like a total fucking tool. Though you couldn’t exactly blame them. It was your fault, too. Your mind was too curious, too far reaching to listen and merely agree. You read Machiavelli’s The Prince and found power to be something earned rather than inherited.  Were you truly a Lestrange man if you sat back and let royalty wash over you? Or were you nothing but a figurehead without the brains to control them?

While most settled for flattery when it came to life, you settled for fear, because it was always safer than love. To care about someone was to owe them something in return, and you refused to owe anyone. Not your father, not your mother, and certainly not your brother (or so you liked to think). You were a machine: alone and angry, pulling at strings to unravel whatever bullshit people would throw your way. You acted like a proletariat sometimes, wishing your life wasn’t so luxurious and stiff. You wished your parents weren’t so perfect because then you would have a reason to slouch. It was all incredibly moronic. The crown was getting much too heavy and soon, you were drowning.

But then she gave you air to breathe. Harper Macmillan: the exception to every one of your rules. 

You never told her this, but the first time you noticed her was when you were fourteen years old. Sure, you watched her as she was placed in Hufflepuff, mentally noting how cute you thought she was - but it wasn’t until three months into your Charms lesson that she truly embedded herself within the recesses of your mind. Finally succeeding with her charm, she let out a contagious laugh and you couldn’t help but compare the shine of her smile to the stars above.

Harper was as tantalizing as she was beautiful, and you despised the way her surname left a bitter taste in your mouth. The Macmillan family were blood traitors and you could remember every shallow and disgusting thing your parents and their friends have said about them. They are trash, and we would rather them lay dead on the floor than have them so much as look our way, his parents snapped.  

So you were fourteen and you ignored her. You were fifteen and you ignored her. You were sixteen and you ignored her. You were seventeen and your palms began to bleed because Thomas Peak, the stupid mudblood, asked her out. You clenched your fists so hard you barely noticed the way your fingernails dug into your skin. You couldn’t remember feeling so angry. So murderous. 

Your jealousy continued to brew as you noticed how she and her blood traitor friends rarely ever parted. How come she could associate herself with someone so low, and you couldn’t? You complain to yourself, but you know, deep down, that you are held to a much higher standard. But still, the curiosity got the better of you, and when you were seventeen you approached her friend with a question about class, subtly looking over at Harper before saying hello. You pretended not to care. You pretended to acknowledge her with such little interest that you might as well have been speaking to a wall. And when she said hi back? You shrugged. Uncaring. But your heart practically ripped itself out of your chest right then and there, forcing you to rush off the moment her friend finished her answer.

One word. Just one fucking word. Harper Macmillan uttered one word to you and you were convinced she belonged to you. Like a possession. Like the gems your mother would polish, or the money your father would practically swim in. She was yours. Eventually you could look at nothing else, your eyes always washing over her lithe form whenever she walked into a room. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and you felt no desire to torture yourself by staying away. People swarmed you, treated you like a god, and yet you kept looking only at her. 

And one day  …   she looked back.

No one knew of your relationship - or so you told yourself. You were smart enough to know when to be careful, smart enough to never mention her name. And sure, your anger got the better of you from time to time, resulting in a bloodied mess of any stupid fool who thought it smart to flirt with your girl - the same girl who appeared single to anyone curious enough to look. 

It was your own fault, and you bloody knew it too.

Feeling this way was changing you and you didn’t like it. You felt more open to discussion, often keeping an eye out for Rodolphus simply to ask how he was doing. While a part of you always cared, despite your objections to the matter, you were never so open about it - once having been caught like a deer in headlights when claiming you were proud. A simple scoff and chuckle later and the matter was resolved. You were joking, of course. But you knew, deep down, if you didn’t get control of the matter, you wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer. Over the years, the blonde was slowly erasing what your parents so forcefully cast upon you: your inability to be a human fucking being.

To make matters worse, or better depending on who you asked, you have been secretly in contact with your birth mother. Having given up on ever knowing her, it was a surprise when an owl flew your way, dropping off a letter from the woman you thought was long gone. She never forgot about you - and unlike your other family members, she took a keen interest in your interests. She wanted to know everything about you. Naturally you kept out a lot, inwardly terrified she would be as disgusted with you as you were of yourself. But just like Harper, she was your connection to something safer. Something happier. And the greedy bastard in you won’t let her go. 

Your family can never know. 

PERSONALITY

The man is infamous and rightly so. But despite his reputation, Rab has been known to isolate himself more often than not. Reasonably eschewing human interaction, he uses this time to reflect on himself, his body and its warnings. This is called interoception, and Rab requires this level of perception in order to control his anger and shift it into something more positive. Helpful. With this understanding he is able to exercise full consciousness, therefore limiting the times he allows his temper to roam free.  Furthering this point, this helps guide him when understanding others emotionally. When he is able to better understand his enemies, he is able to view their hopes and aspirations. To know them is to know how to defeat them. 

He is constantly at odds with himself. He prides control over mostly everything and yet he struggles with intense anger issues. He becomes malicious and vindictive, almost blind to the world around him. When Rab sees red, no consequences exist. This is, once again, why he tries his best to remain isolated - until his services are needed, of course. Then he wears a twisted smirk and dances along the line that separates sanity and insanity. Switching back and forth is tiring, and he often disappears for long periods of time following an intense change. People are unaware of where he goes, and they don’t try to find him. 

Even the most feared of students know to give him his space. 

While this may be difficult to see, Rabastan is a family man. Despite the endless deception and bullshit, he continues to side with his immediate relatives. They are his connection to ethos. His reminder that he is human and worthy of being loved. This can be seen as his ultimate weakness. For instance, his father threatened his mother and blackmailed her, and yet he still stands beside his father and shows a form of loyalty that could not be matched. He would die for his family - something they would be all too quick to accept. His devotion to the Lestrange family has nothing to do with their legacy or their name, but rather their blood relations. He has made the mistake of trusting them time and time again only to be disappointed in the end. 

Rab expects disappointment and therefore always has a back-up plan. He can bounce back to an almost pathological degree, wiping figurative (or sometimes literal) blood from his face with nonchalance painted across his features.  He uses his disappointments as a way to empower himself. His limits are constantly being challenged and he has repeatedly come out on top, showing a tenacity that is difficult, if not impossible to duplicate. 

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Estelle Alanis-Song AGE & BIRTH DATE. 150 & February 7th, 1871 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Owner of a small hardware store FACE CLAIM. Adria Arjona

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death ) A child is born and she bears the mark of a monster. Above her cradle hangs a curse— and those who remark upon her dark eyes and discontent demeanour whisper their condolences to her mother, a wretch who is inconsolable, and alone. It was a witch who confirmed what she was, a passing woman who felt the source of her magic: what drives a child named after the stars is the same creature that draws fear through the village every full moon, filling every empty street with an abominable, horrible howl. There was a pack, the witch advised, where she could be raised with her kind. Estelle’s mother knew little of Greece yet, but she knew plenty of hours and she pushed her child into the strange woman’s arms. Now, many years have passed and all she knows of the woman who had given birth to her was her name: it was Adara, and she was ruled by fear.

And so it was the Argos that Estelle was to be raised with, a werewolf pack that fringed a city in Greece called Corinth, whose alpha carried the surname Alanis. They were pleased to take in the infant: a child was something moldable and without the scars of a life left behind their alpha gave her the name Alanis, adopting her into not only the pack, but their family. It was in this world that she was shaped and formed, becoming a girl with gunsmoke for breath and fire in her veins. If her birth mother had been human and scared, Estelle carried the brightness of a new star: she was bold and vibrant, tumbling through life with her adopted siblings with a laugh always in her throat. Even as a child, she was the smallest in her age group, compared to the brightness of the soon-to-be alpha and the rest of the Alanis brood, but it was her spirit that made her shine.

A girl, someone new as well, came to Corinth and her adopted mother encouraged her to try and befriend her: to make someone else feel as welcome as she did. Her name was Hana, and the two became fast friends. Where she was bold, Hana was demure and shy, clumsy with the language as Estelle helped her with the foreign syllables and the maze-like streets of the city. They were inseparable, growing from scabby-kneed children into young women. Life in the Argos pack was sweet then, there was no fear of death, there was always the promise of safety: and she found it easy to navigate her role, supportive of her adopted brother as he took the helm of alpha, proud of his accomplishments. It had never been a spot for her, and that was clear as the roundness of youth fell away from her face and was replaced by the ever-present wickedness of her smile.

Estelle Alanis was a wild woman; she faced life like a matador in the ring, or a lion-fighter in a cage. No fear. Her desire to try anything once got her in trouble often, but it was her streak of fondness and Hana’s chiding words that had her grounded, tethered and sweet. They were excellent friends, everyone would remark as she calmed by the other woman’s side, growing soft as rain. She could not tell when she had started to love Hana, when it became true that there would be no life for her without the other werewolf in it— but their first kiss was something stolen and shy, paired with laughter from those around them, a secret desire that had been disguised as a dare.

Their second kiss was under the cover of a fuchsia bougainvillea, and the sweet blooms matched the flush on both of their faces, swallowing up their giggles in the low light of a late evening. It was then that she was certain that this was love, to care for someone more than yourself; and while duty bound her to the Argos it was her heart that kept her bound to Hana. Curiosity towards other figures that roamed in their lives had never blossomed beyond curiosity and her hand never quite fit in another’s quite like it did Hana’s. They outgrew youth and they became adults, capable and as always, together. They got a home, one with two bedrooms and a view out onto the ocean where the flower beds were full of blooms and the path to the garden was shrouded by those bright pink flowers that she had grown so fond of and as they grew older, they were happy.

Her siblings had their own children, and Estelle watched as her brother began to raise three children— all with the potential to one day be the alpha of the Argos pack. The pack expanded and it shrunk, matching the events of the years that passed, the two got married, and then, when things finally seemed settled: they wanted a family of their own. She wanted to bear a child, to have one that carried her name and her features: to love someone that she would never cast away in fear regardless of the genes that they held, but the universe is not kind to those who seek out these things in earnest and the search for options turned up fruitless for the couple. It was by chance that they heard of Zoey, a girl in need of adoption, looking for somewhere steady to lay roots.

They brought her into their home, and into their arms, giving her both of their surnames to carry. An entire pack raised their girl. Estelle hung every constellation up from her ceiling from strings and Hana poured over every child-rearing book as they tried to make things perfect, to give her the most love that they could. When Zoey was older, they started to look back into their options, to find ways to become parents again— but this time technology had kept up with their desires and a donor was found.

There was so much joy in carrying a child. Estelle whispered lullabies to her, and Zoey, then still young, would press her ear to listen for a heartbeat, looking up with delight as her mothers promised her a baby sister to love and to take care of. They laboured over names, over paint colours for the nursery, and over every decision that was required to make things perfect: until eventually she was born, and she was beautiful, and they named her Lily.

A human girl, with no mark of the supernatural upon her, Estelle felt it fervently that she must be protected. She would not grow into magic, there would be no claws and teeth beneath her skin that would one day protect her from those that wanted to hunt her. Before she was old enough to remember, the two parents decided that it was best to move their family somewhere safer, where they would all have the chance of living in peace.

They settled in a farmhouse in the country, somewhere quiet and beautiful where they could live out the rest of their lives with their children, then grandchildren after— content by the sweet smell of summer and the easy winters that brushed upon the land. Getting settled somewhere new made Estelle feel young again, eager to explore someplace different than where she had lived their entire lives: and often she dragged Hana out for date nights where Zoey was a willing babysitter. Their perfect world was stolen from them, and their two girls as well, the home that they returned to that evening was torn apart and only devastation remained inside.

Grief could rot someone from the inside out and staying in that house, in isolation and surrounded by the things that had once belonged to their two daughters made Estelle inconsolable. Picture frames lay on tables face down, she hardly left her bed and the curtains were always drawn shut. Her heart, once light and full of laughter, had crippled with heartache— only mended by Hana’s enduring love, and her strength.

They needed help, to return to familiar grounds and people that they loved. What remained of their home and the memories that they salvaged were packed into boxes for a time that they would be strong enough to go through them, and everything else was shipped back to Corinth. They would purchase a new home, Estelle a new business, and there they would start to rebuild, to cobble their lives back together.

PERSONALITY

+ compassionate, enthusiastic, nurturing - sensitive, morose, proud

PLAYED BY SAM. EST. She/Her.

[mooncat457writing]

if you do 37 with jily i'll love you forever 👉👈

So, I’ve already done 37 for Wolfstar, which can be found here, so I’m going to give you some of prompt 36 because I feel like it has similar vibes.

Cooling Potions and Warming Blankets

Part of Falling Leaves

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: Jily Rating: T Prompt: 36. When you can’t choose just one snuggly blanket so you wrap up in all of them

"PEEVES!"

Lily's screech was followed by high pitched laughter and a clatter of armor as the poltergeist wooshed through a suit of armor in his escape from her. In the middle of the open-air Transfiguration corridor, she stood there, ice water dripping from her soaked robes and long, auburn hair. 

James appeared from around the corner where he was patrolling for out-of-bed students, panting as he runs. "Lily?! I heard you shout. Are you—Why are you all wet?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him, glaring. "I f-fancied a swim in the Black Lake," she deadpanned through chattering teeth. "What do you think, P-Potter? Peeves r-rigged up a bucket of water to fall on whoever p-passed by."

"Which way did he go? I'll try to get him back," he said, drawing his wand and looking around wildly.

"Th-through the wall, so he's long gone. Bloody hell, it's f-freezing." Another shiver ran down her spine, and she drew her soaking cloak tighter around her. 

James softened and took a few steps closer to her. "Here, let me," he said before waving his wand over her head, muttering a few charms over her. "Better?"

She pulled her now dry cloak more tightly around her torso. "Drier at least. Thank you, James."

More and more lately, she'd been slipping and calling him by his first name rather than his surname, and he couldn't help but smile every time. But then, he furrowed his brow. "Did the warming charm not work?"

"You cast a warming charm, too?" She shivered again and shuffled her weight between her feet as if moving would somehow warm her. 

"Are you sure it was water that Peeves dumped on you?" James asked, ducking down to investigate the puddle of liquid still pooled at Lily's feet. He swiped a finger through it and brought it up to his nose to sniff. "Oh no, that's a cooling potion. That explains it."

"You're able to identify a cooling potion based on smell?"

"Yeah. I brew one sometimes for Remus when he's running a fever during the—" 

"During the full moon?" Lily finished.

"You know?" He blanched and straightened up from his crouched position. 

"I figured it out fifth-year."

"He never said—"

She shivered again, and James quickly unclasped his cloak then wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving him in his uniform Oxford button-down, trousers, and sweater vest. "Come on, let's get back to the common room. Unfortunately, the only thing you can really do with a cooling potion is wait it out, preferably in front of a fire with a blanket."

"But the rest of our patrol," Lily protested.

"Leave it to the prefects. It won't do any good to have the Head Girl dying of hypothermia," he countered and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to steer her toward the Grand Staircase. And whether it was because she was chilled to the bone, or she was just starting to warm up to him as a person, Lily leaned into his side the entire way back to the Gryffindor common room, much to James' joy.  

When they got back to the common room, James gave the Fat Lady the password and let go of her shoulder so they could step through the portrait hole. He tried not to read into the soft whine that Lily let out. It was probably just from the loss of warmth, not because of the loss of him. The fire was still roaring, but the common room was empty, despite it only being 11:30 pm on a Friday night. 

"You sit, and I'll get you a blanket," James told her. 

She nodded and sat in the oversized armchair closest to the fire, first unclasping the cloaks and draping them over the back of the chair. Then, she pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees while James moved around the room, grabbing various blankets for Lily to choose from. 

"Fleece, quilt, or wool?" James asked, stopping in front of the chair and holding up the three blanket options, each red and gold like the rest of the common room.

"Yes."

"All of them?" 

Lily gave a small nod. "Cold," she said simply, in a small, vulnerable voice. 

"All of them it is, then," he whispered, then he got to work wrapping the blankets around her shoulders and draping them over her lap. "There," he said when she was satisfactorily bundled. "Better?"

She nodded. "A bit."

"Good." He moved to sit on the couch to keep her company, but her hand shot out of the cocoon to grab his. 

"Sit with me?"

"I was going to," he said, gesturing toward the couch. "I wasn't just going to go upstairs and leave you here by yourself."

"No, I mean here," she clarified.

"Oh." 

It took everything James to not just melt onto the floor. It was probably just for warmth. Because while the armchair was definitely big enough for two people—James had seen Sirius and Remus both manage to fit on it at the same time dozens of times before—it was barely so. And yes, Lily'd been warming up to the idea of him over the past few months since they'd been named Head Boy and Girl, but not so much that she would suddenly want to cuddle with him in the quiet common room after years of dodging his advances. And they would definitely have to cuddle to fit on the armchair. No, it was definitely just for warmth, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity. Carefully, he squeezed himself into the empty space in the armchair, resting his arm on the back of it in a way he hoped looked casual. Lily instantly leaned into his side, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, then distributed some of the blankets to cover him, too. 

After a while, when her shivers had subsided, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him through lowered lashes. 

"Hey, James?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Lils?" he whispered back.

"Why did you keep asking me out?"

"What?" 

"From the start of fifth-year, you asked me out at least once a week in increasingly ridiculous ways, even though I kept insulting you and saying no," she explained. "Why?"

He sighed and went to shove a hand through his hair but stopped, remembering how annoying she once said it was. "I knew you'd never actually say yes, and Sirius always laughed, so I thought it was funny. You'd get so annoyed. You'd get this little wrinkle in your nose, and you'd call me some clever insult…"

"But then you stopped," she prompted when he fell silent.

"The 'no's stopped being funny once I realized I wanted to hear the opposite," he admitted. 

"So it was real?" A funny look passed over her face, and she pulled farther back to study his face. 

"Wasn't at first, but it became that way, yeah."

"You liked me? Like, properly fancied me?"

He felt a pang in his chest and wanted nothing more than to get up and leave. She was probably just having him on, taking the mickey out of him or something like she usually did, but there was something in her eyes that made him pause. Something genuine. Something… almost hopeful. 

So, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out, then softly said, "I still do." She was silent for a while, just staring at him with wide eyes, and he thought for a moment that he'd misread her, so he continued. "It's alright if you don't feel the same. I'm happy just being your—" 

He was about to say friend, but he was cut off by a pair of soft, slightly cold lips pressing against his own. He was frozen for a few seconds, unable to respond as he processed what was happening, but then his brain caught up. He wrapped that arm that was still resting on the back of the chair around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his chest while his other hand moved to cup her cheek, lengthening the chaste kiss for another few seconds before they pulled apart. 

"Oh," James said lamely.

"Eloquent," Lily quipped playfully.

"That's me," he replied with a nervous smile. "So, at risk of sounding pathetic, that was real, right? That wasn't 'step one' of some sort of elaborate payback plan?"

She smiled softly and nodded. 

"You fancy me then?" He continued.

She nodded again. "I only said no the last few times because I didn't think you were serious—"

He grins, and she gives him a narrowed look.

"I swear to Merlin if you make that stupid joke—" she warns, but then her face softens. "But, yes, somewhere along the way, I secretly started hoping that you'd ask me out for real. But at that point, you'd stopped asking entirely."

"Well, if I were to ask again, what would you say?"

"Are you asking?"

"That depends on your answer," he teased. 

She scoffed and swatted lightly at his chest, pulling a laugh from him. "Well, I would say that I would happily be your girlfriend, if you asked, that is."

"I'm skipping right over the date and going straight for the girlfriend thing, am I?" He asked, grinning from ear to ear. 

She blushed and tried to duck her head to hide it, but he caught her chin and tilted her face up. "You'll still go on a date with me, though, right?"

"Hopefully, more than one," she replied. 

"Definitely more than one," he agreed.

She smiled and settled back against his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around her. 

"Still cold?" he asked after a while. Lily's shivers had stopped, but he wanted to be sure the potion's effects had worn off. 

"Not as much anymore," she mumbled before burrowing closer to him. 

"Good." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We should probably head upstairs soon, though."

"Probably," she echoed but made no moves to get up. 

Not that James minded. Cuddling with Lily under a pile of blankets would go down as one of his top five memories to date. Possibly even his best memory, replacing the first time he ran as Prongs through the forest with Moony's wolf, because nothing could possibly be better than the feeling of her tucked under his arm.

🍁 🍁 🍁

Send me a prompt (or several) and a pairing!

[papercinders]

exile

PART II OF ENIGMA

PAIRING: obi-wan/reader RATING: PG WORD COUNT: 3.0k SUMMARY: he had a home, once, but now it is gone. you offer yours, if only for the night. or: the second time you ask obi-wan who he is. A/N: this is the second installment of enigma, a six-part series; updates every saturday. let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. otherwise, enjoy!

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By the time you reach the farm, night has almost fallen. It’s not cold, but compared to the blistering heat of day, Tatooine by night is pleasant. The sky is painted in strokes of bluish gray and amber, the brighter of the two stars following the other as it sinks below the horizon. Soon, the farmstead will be cast in an expanse of pure darkness.

You hold the reins of the eopies, watching from a distance as Ben carries the bundle to the two silhouettes standing at the edge of their settlement. It’s a humble abode. The landscape is barren. You watch as the infant is passed between them. His name is Luke, you remind yourself.

You wonder who these people are. They take the baby with outstretched hands and little words, and the man wraps an arm around the woman as they turn toward the sunset, as if they are the last people in the galaxy, standing against some insurmountable obstacle. It’s just a baby, you tell yourself. It’s just an orphaned baby, and not even orphaned anymore.

Ben stands there for a moment, cloaked, a dark stain against the residual light of Tatooine’s binary sunset, but only for a moment. Then he turns back toward you, face unreadable, and though he arrived in Tatooine with empty hands, it doesn’t look like he has let go of anything.

When he is near enough for you to call out to him, you hold back words. He stops before you, eyes not meeting yours, and then slowly raises his head to meet your gaze. The world remains silent for another moment, and then ― 

“I haven’t even asked for your name.”

He says it as if you haven’t noticed. To him, you suppose you’re just a speck in a sky of grief. His face seems to fit into the mold of a smile so well, so often, and yet he has shown you little joy. You suspect he is here because of some unspeakable tragedy.

You realize that he is still watching you, and you say your name quietly, as if afraid to give too much of yourself away. Even though names, at their base level, are meaningless ― you learn far more about a person from actions and words ― there is something in that uselessness that makes a name all the more intimate.

Ben pauses for a moment, eyes still holding yours, and then he nods once, a single acknowledgment. “Thank you,” he says, but he does not repeat your name. You wonder why.

He crosses to one of the two eopies and hauls himself over the side of the creature and into the saddle; casts a glance at you from the side, and then dips his head in some form of goodbye.

Before he pulls the reins, the words come pouring out of your mouth. Part of it is genuine curiosity, but the other part of it is some desperate desire for him to stay. You tell yourself it’s because you haven’t figured him out yet. Just like before, you can’t quite explain why you speak. But just like before, you do.

“Where will you go?”

There’s a lull in the breeze, and everything holds its breath before he forms words. Ben searches your eyes. “Here,” he says, and from beneath his cloak, produces a few credits. They clink together. He holds out his hand for you to take the credits.

You look at the offered credits, glinting in the quickly-fading light, and then back to Ben. His hand is still outstretched, open. “I said I’d be your guide for free,” you say, and make no move to take the money.

Slowly, he pulls his hand back and stows the credits away again, still watching you. His eyes are blue like water, or maybe an ocean. You’ve seen bodies of water before, of course, but they don’t exist on Tatooine. At least, not until he arrived.

“Where will I go?” Ben muses, and he finally breaks eye contact, sweeping a gaze over the endless landscape of sand and horizon, interrupted only by the farmstead. “My ship, I suppose. I’ll return the eopies.”

“And after that?”

“After that?” he repeats, glancing at you briefly. His eyes are not wholly troubled, but neither does he seem unburdened or at peace. Exhausted, maybe. He sighs, shoulders rising and falling. “I’ll find somewhere to stay. Somewhere near here.”

“On Tatooine?” you say, and you can’t keep the disbelief from bleeding into your voice. He has a working ship, from the looks of it, enough credits to spare, and no reason to remain on Tatooine. Who would willingly stay here?

Ben is quiet for a beat. “Yes.”

The word why almost slips past your lips unhindered, but you remind yourself that you are still strangers. It’s one thing to know where he is going and how he will get there; it’s another to ask him to explain. Especially when he doesn’t seem keen to answer.

You follow his gaze to the small, round house on the edge of the moisture farm. The couple has disappeared inside with the baby. You wonder what Luke is to Ben; what it meant to take care of him, what it meant to give him up. You have the barest of ideas that he intends to stay on Tatooine for the child, but you wonder why, then, he gave him up in the first place.

“I should leave now,” Ben says.

Both stars have disappeared beneath the horizon. Light still radiates where sky meets land, but with every minute, it is leeched away. Darkness has already rendered the clouds gray and the opposite horizon a palette of muted tones.

Night is falling. He’s right. He should leave now.

But instead, you ask, “You have nowhere to go?” Behind the question is a variety of implications. You hope he takes it at face value. A ship, after all, is not a home.

He hesitates, as if weighing whether he considers a single-pilot starfighter to be sufficient. In the end, the silence stretches on, and you decide for him.

“There’s an extra room at my place,” you say, but your voice is quiet. You’re suddenly aware that you’re offering to let a stranger into your home ― even if your home isn’t much ― and you don’t even know what he does for a living or what his surname is. It’s in a different category than offering to be a guide.

Ben’s brow furrows, and he looks at you as if trying to figure out why you would offer something of yours so freely. “Why?” he asks, and it’s a fair question.

You’re not sure what to say, so you settle on honesty. “A ship is not a home.”

“Do you offer a room to every traveler passing through Tatooine?”

“No,” you say. A pause. “But you’re not a traveler passing through.” You know why he asked the previous question. He’s unsure of your motives; you can read it through more than just his words. “You just…” You search for words to describe what you know of grief. It’s futile. “You seem lost. Alone.”

When there’s more silence, you nearly backtrack, take back all of your words as if they are crumbs you can sweep from the floor and throw away.

But before you can retract your offer, Ben says your name. It sounds strange, unfamiliar ― it has been a long time since anyone has called you anything except girl and you ― but it is a part of you, after all.

“You’ve already been kind to me,” he says, and his voice is soft, even in the slow breeze as it rolls over the sand dunes. “I only need a place to stay for the night. At first light, I’ll be on my way.”

You’re surprised. He doesn’t come across as the kind of person who would accept help without a fight. But then again, he seems tired. Weary. Perhaps a little broken ― or a lot. Maybe, you decide, he has already survived a battle. A war. And maybe that’s why you have given him your time, your home, and your kindness.

The Republic is now the Empire. The war is now the past. It has left behind pieces and shards and ashes, and perhaps it is your job to pick them up. Or perhaps you only tell yourself that because you have no other purpose in this endless, lonely expanse of desert and empty wind.

//

You don’t have much food to offer him, but you don’t bother apologizing. You know he’ll say that he doesn’t mind. You know he’ll bring up the fact that you’ve offered your home up to a stranger.

The truth is, it’s not really a home ― you throw around the term because it’s loosely accurate, but house is a better word for it. Or hut, if you were more precise. All it is is a clay and synstone hut with two rooms and a common area. You don’t know who built it, or who lived in it before you. But it’s yours, now.

Over a meager dinner ― ahrisa and haroun bread, nearly stale ― you sit in silence. A few words are exchanged, but his voice is soft and in the dim evening, when eye contact is softened and movements dampened, you don’t mind the quiet. You’re tired, and you suspect Ben is, too.

But he is the first to break the silence. “Why are you on Tatooine?”

The question is odd. You tilt your head to the side, unsure if he knows what he’s asking. There’s the easy answer, and then there’s the difficult one. You lean back in your seat, regarding him in the faint, diffused darkness. “Let’s make a deal.”

His eyebrows pull together in curiosity, but he humors you with the slightest of nods.

“I’ll tell you why I’m here if you tell me,” you say. You’ve been wondering for the past few hours, postulating about Luke, about the couple that took him in, about where Ben comes from and why his ship glints bright and clean in the sun.

There’s a beat of silence ― hesitation, you think, but it’s hard to tell ― and then Ben nods again, pulling forward to rest his arms on the surface of the dining table. “Well, then, you first.” Something in his voice sounds almost playful, and though it surprises you, it also seems strangely natural to him, some side of his that has had little chance to show itself.

Again, there’s that sense that Ben is changed, somehow, different from who he really is. You can’t say for sure because you’ve just met him, but on a few instances, you wonder what he’s actually like. Whether he smiles often or his voice has a lilt to it; if he laughs openly or softly; if his eyes can show as much joy as they can grief.

You shut away those thoughts. You first, he said, and you try to decide how much of yourself you’re willing to give away. The silence does not cease, so you speak.

“I don’t come from anywhere in particular,” you say, keenly aware of Ben’s eyes on you. “I ended up on Tatooine out of sheer dumb luck. Ran out of money.”

A beat of silence. “Ran out of money?” Ben repeats softly.

“I was scammed,” you say, and shrug, though it’s a weak shrug, born not of indifference but of wearied regret. There’s nothing you could’ve done, and Tatooine is not known for being kind to newcomers. But the sand and the desert here are tempered by some broken-in mix of resentment and acceptance.

Ben’s voice comes out of the silence again. “Is that why you helped me?”

He poses it as a question, but both of you know he’s right, at least to some degree. Still, to answer would be to cross a boundary. “That’s not part of the deal,” you say, and for some odd reason, the brief tug on the corners of your lips is not wholly unnatural. “It’s your turn.”

“I suppose it is,” Ben says, and you can’t read his tone. He hesitates ― this, you think you’re sure of. “I came to Tatooine to find Luke a home. His parents are dead, and I cannot be his guardian.”

You notice that he does not say why he can’t take care of Luke, so you don’t ask. Instead, you say, “Why stay on Tatooine?”

Ben is silent again, but before you can retract your words, he answers you. “I had a home before the war,” he says, eyes downcast, form still cast in darkness. “During the war, even. But it’s gone now.”

Gone? you want to ask, but your mind is reminded by your heart that the absence of loved things and places is painful to talk about. And you are reminded by your head that despite everything, Ben is still a stranger, an unknown, and though he sits in your house and eats your food and answers your questions, he is just another traveler torn from his home by the war.

It’s easier to think about when you’re reminded of how wide the galaxy is; when you think about it in terms of numbers and not faces. It’s better that way, isn’t it?

“Tatooine is fitting for the lost,” Ben says. You find his eyes in the dark, and his gaze is soft. His voice is quiet. “It’s fitting for who I am now.”

“And who are you?” you say, even though just a moment ago you were so sure that considering incomprehensible numbers and entire galaxies is preferable to faces and voices.

Still, Ben answers. “An exile,” he says, and though the word is inherently hopeless, he is not entirely grief-stricken. Not entirely. Not yet, perhaps.

An exile, you repeat to yourself, and you wonder what his home looked like before the war took it away from him. In the music of his voice alone, you decide that his home must have been complete. Or complete enough, for nobody misses what is already lacking.

You don’t ask him any more questions after that. It doesn’t matter that there’s some tentative bond in mutual loneliness, or that you’re both indebted to each other in different ways. You tell yourself that strangers are strangers and must remain that way; that even though Ben says he will stay on Tatooine, no one with a ship stays for long. Not when the rest of the galaxy can offer so much more than here.

The night is deep and long, and conversation is extinguished. You show Ben to the extra room, holding back an apology for the dust because you know all he wants is to rest. The house is still and quiet, and as you switch off the last lantern, true night descends. You close your door and lie in bed and try not to think about the stranger who does not seem like a stranger. The wanderer who does not wander; the exile who cannot be only that. You thought he was a puzzle to be solved; a riddle to be answered. But perhaps, you think, as you drift off, people are more complicated than messages to be decoded or secrets to be found.

//

In the dead of night, you’re woken up. You think it’s because you heard someone cry out. You’re not sure. The house is silent, the air unmoving, and for a few moments, you lie in bed, blinking exhaustion out of your eyes. You’re already on edge because there’s someone unfamiliar in your house, so you try to convince yourself that’s the only reason why you’re awake and unable to fall back asleep.

You still can’t sleep, so you slip out of bed, creaking the door of your room open and then padding past the dining table and finally, to the other closed door on the other side of the house. You stand in front of the door, in the darkness. Part of you is sure that you heard nothing and you should go to sleep instead of disturbing Ben. The other part of you is convinced that you’re just afraid to knock.

In the end, you step away from the door, quietly, and retreat away from the extra room and the stranger that resides within. Go to sleep, you tell yourself, and you’re sure that everything will make sense when the suns rise over the horizon and light fills your house again and darkness does not prompt your mind to invent what cannot exist.

But before you’ve gone a few paces away from the shut door, in the utter silence of night, there is the soft click of a door being cracked open. You turn at the sound. Ben stands in the opening of the door. It’s too dark to make out his face clearly, but what dim light exists reflects off his eyes, which peer at you.

“Did I wake you?” you say quietly, even though you’re certain that it’s the other way around.

Ben is silent for a few moments, and in the padded, inaudible night, you’re unsure of how much time lapses between your voice and his.

“No,” he says, finally. “I couldn’t sleep, anyway.” There’s something behind his voice that you can’t figure out, but you resist the urge to theorize about what kind of sadness has crept into the music of his words.

I’m sorry, you want to say, because you know that he’s lost a home and a friend, at least. But you merely nod, even though you’re not sure if he can make see much in the gloom. There is nothing more to say ― nothing that would not cross the boundaries of strangers ― so you murmur a goodnight for the second time and cross the distance back to your own room. You do not wake until morning.

And in the morning, he is gone. A few credits are lined up on the dining table, glinting softly in the early light. The blanket in the extra room is folded and set on the bed, the door wide open.

The air is still, the morning silent, and your only companion is the first of the suns as it climbs above the horizon. It’s quiet, and your house feels strangely empty.

//

taglist (i tagged users who reblogged or commented on the first part; let me know if you don’t want to be tagged): @coraxaviary @princessxkenobi @fortunately-golden @ravenoushela @damalseer​

[but-first--tea]

LFRP: Omori Kaya

THE BASICS

Full name: Omori Kaya

Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree   Kay-Uh  (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)

Nicknames: n/a

Height:  5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)

Age:  “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Languages: Doman, Common

Occupation: Not getting caught.

Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)

Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Pale, silvery grey

Skin tone: Fair

Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.

Scars: none

Accent: Doman

Posture

Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.  

Accessories

She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.

Apparel

Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art.  She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less.  The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Doma

Siblings: none she knows of

Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.

Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)

PERSONAL

Personality

Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.

Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.

Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.

Motivations/Goals

If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.

Financial Status

Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.

She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would  divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.

Weapons

While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.

Vices

Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.

Likes

People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.

Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.

Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.

Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.

Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?

Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.

Dislikes

Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.

People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.

Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.

Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.

Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.

Being cold, biting insects.

Hobbies

Reading, especially the arcane.

Learning the history of different places and cultures.

Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.

Pets: None, currently.  She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.

RP HOOKS

She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?

A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances. 

It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.

The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...

The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)

She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets. 

Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!

OOC

I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.

OOC communication is a priority for me.

I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!

I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)

I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)

Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.

I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character. 

Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses.