#the fashion thing was a tangent but my point is this: we cannot have the post-scarcity queer communist space utopia that we want

[earth-wyrms]

Its related to the idea that "sustainable" cannot be decoupled from "ethical" without lying. Sustainability requires humans to be part of the equation literally from the ground up. I dont give a shit if your product is carbon neutral or made out of 100% recycled materials or part of a tree planting initiative if the water being used to make it is stolen, if the people working your factories go home with rattling lungs, if the dyes used for your clothes are dumped directly into the river.

The post-scarcity queer communist space utopia cannot happen unless youre really willing to take a dirty look at how your materials are gathered and processed.

Like, its a really cool aesthetic but its not a philosophy with teeth. For an idea with the -punk suffix it sure is cute and nonthreatening and marketable and easy as hell to greenwash. Hell, with enough good package design and yogurt in little clay pots you could convince me weve already done it.

I can’t explain it but a lot of “Ghibli-inspired” stuff is bad in the same way a lot of Solarpunk is bad

[one-squash-one-end]

An analysis on gender and sexuality - Blue Sargent

Hi! This belongs to my big Raven Cycle analysis, click here for the masterpost!

This part will deal with our favorite short ant, Blue Sargent. A sort of silly but still intentional analysis/essay on why I think she's nonbinary, where I go off on random tangents because i have adhd and access to the internet. Enjoy! (This will be so fucking long though, I had Thoughts)

3. Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it (+ my professional opinion on whether they’d wear a crop top)

a) Blue Sargent

Look. No matter how I look at this entire character, there’s simply no way Blue is not genderfluid. (The fluid is one of Maura’s footy healing teas btw.) And I am here to spread the agenda and force my own identity onto fictional characters so that after you have read this analysis and interpretation, you will agree with me on my correct opinion.

To begin with, there is this entire theme of not fitting in and dressing in an “unusual” way. It becomes very evident that Blue is really proud of being weird and eccentric, this displayed in attitudes towards her mom, the boys and her internal monologue about Mountainview High. She does not want to fit in if it means changing for others, yet she says “the problem with being weird was that everyone else was normal”. This could possibly be a metaphor for being trans; being proud of it, yet being only surrounded by cis people, who conform to all those societal gender norms. It means one would feel sort of isolated (as Blue does mention she is), not being able to relate to or feel deeply understood by anyone in their environment.

Additionally, alternative fashion (or at least that’s how I would describe her aesthetic in general) has quite typically been claimed by queer people. I know this is a lot of interpretation here, and it’s worth mentioning that you absolutely cannot tell someone’s gender by how they present on the outside. However, the evidence gets stronger as we dive deeper. If we look at her fashion sense together with the statement of “I don’t care to be pretty, I care to look on the outside as I do on the inside.”, it sends quite a clear message: Her outside is very jumbled, not conforming to societal norms, a mix of many different styles that seems to change its focus daily. In my opinion, that’s pretty gender of her. If that’s how she presents on the outside (which is not traditionally “female”, among other things I just mentioned), just think about what that would mean for her inside. It’s chaotic, it’s messy, it’s just a lot of things. It’s called being genderfluid.

The second big theme we have is her constantly being treated as “one of the boys”. And yes, of course cis girls can be friends with large groups of boys (and the other way around) but it is quite rare or unusual, especially if all of them are straight (so my point is this: Blue is not cis and also the boys are all queer, more on that later). Either way, Blue defies traditional gender norms and “girly” hobbies by taking part in fun teambuilding activities such as cave exploring, trespassing, grave robbery and burying a body. We stan.

Then we have this quote, which is talking specifically about Blue truly being part of the group for the first time: “They were loud and triumphant and kings of Henrietta.” Now, while kings are a theme that is quite consistent throughout the books, each of the boys and Mr. Gray being called one at least once in significant scenes of their character arcs, by that time it is not yet that established. There would have been so many other words for Maggie Stiefvater to use. First of all, kings and queen, though that would be a bit unwieldy. She chose not to alienate Blue. But there were other alternatives, something not quite so gendered, such as royals, or gods even. Yet, that specific wording happened, showing she is in no way other than the boys. And maybe in that scene she really wasn’t, feeling more masculine that day perhaps.

Furthermore, “whatever her identity crisis was, it seemed to live at home, not with the boys”, meaning she does feel alienated around all those women, but she does somehow fit in with the boys. Yes, this is also a teen thing of being misunderstood by parents while identifying a lot with peers, but when what she rejects is femininity and she seems to embrace masculinity, it’s a bit sus, don’t you think? And then lastly it’s not only the Gangsey, but also the Vancouver crowd as well, a group of boys held together by somehow being different than the rest of Aglionby (if I remember correctly), that she feels immediately at home with.

Next, there are the 300 Fox Way women. As we just established, Blue feels a sort of identity crisis in this house filled with women. She does not fit in, because she is the only one without any psychic abilities, meaning she is already “other”, but there is a clear focus on showing how she is so, so loved, by her direct family (like Maura) but also the others (Calla, Persephone) have accepted her as one of their own. Now, what if she was also genderqueer? Wouldn’t that give her one more reason to be different, while simultaneously putting emphasis on the fact that trans people can and deserve to be loved by their families?

I saved the strongest evidence for last (well, sort of, there’s still more to come actually). The following quote is the ultimate confirmation Blue is not female. As she, the Gangsey and some of her family group together in the kitchen, she says there were “three boys, four women, and one Blue”! Here she is specifically not assigned either of the aforementioned genders, not grouped together with the 300 Fox Way women in a “five women, Blue being one of them” manner and also not one of the boys in this scene. This might be an age issue (like how for months I wasn’t sure if I dislike both the terms “woman” and “girl” being used for me because of age or gender), but the scene could have easily said “women, boys and one teenage girl”, focusing on groups divided by age and gender like the original intention might seem to be. And yet it didn’t.

Now for some more quotes. After some guy from her school draws a penis on the unicorn on her binder, she says “she preferred her unicorns ungendered”. For the reasons already listed I deduce that, much like the unicorn, Blue prefers herself ungendered.

“She felt one thousand years old. She also felt like maybe she was a condescending brat.” is of course supposed to show how contradicting growing up can feel, perception of oneself flickering between being terribly grown up and still being a little child, who cannot know anything. I would also argue, though, that this duality can be quite reminiscent of her gender identity, feeling like multiple, supposedly contrasting, things at once. As an additional afterthought, the theme of being ageless is sometimes associated with omniscient beings, detached from being human, such as deities. Another thing that would be quite typical for gods, especially when they are so apart from society, is being genderless, or having a gender that fluctuates. Some examples for this would be Dionysus, Loki or the ancient genderfluid entity Asushunamir, stemming from the mythology of one of humanity’s first civilizations, Mesopotamia.

Then, naturally, we have other people’s perception of her. While she probably has been described as a girl in quite a few instances in the book (one of them being Henry, though before he really knew her), to me it sticks out that she describes herself as a “sensible teen”, not a sensible girl, though that might have made even more sense in the context of not going around kissing random boys (but yes, let’s be honest, that’s some antiquated slut-shaming, people can kiss as many consenting people as they like). Further instance is that Gansey says “Blue was a fanciful, but sensible thing. Like a platypus, or one of those sandwiches […]”. Like, he goes out of his way to not describe her as a girl in that scene, instead drawing weird-ass comparisons. Now, while calling his friends magnificent creatures is totally his thing (maybe Gansey rejects gendered terms and embraces silly greetings), this did seem intentional to me. Not to mention the obvious parallel of platypuses being mammals but laying eggs, somehow combining different species. Despite reproducing differently than “normal” mammals (also having different sexual organs), they are still recognized as such, and if that isn’t very trans rights of them, I don’t know what is. (Yes I know being a mammal is not derived from reproductive organs and this is probably all somewhat wrong, but I am relying heavily on metaphors here and also I dropped Biology.)

Now as a last thing I chose the entire theme of “something more”. If I’m not mistaken, “something more” is important for every other character as well (I specifically remember Henry), but it begins with Blue and seems to be most relevant to her either way. As I’m writing this I realize so much of the evidence I have collected can also be read under points of view of growing up, but still fits her gender, showing not only that Blue is pretty reminiscent of how teenagers feel, how things in their lives contradict, but also that we come to realizations about our own gender as we grow up, whether it’s realizing at five, fifteen or fifty years old, self-discovery is an ongoing process. So “something more” is absolutely about her future, but it might also relate to her gender being something more than simply female, more than the binary dictates.

If you read this entire series with the opinion that Blue is not cis (like I do! And like my real life friends hopefully will after reading this J), there are masses of hints pointing towards it and creating evidence. Smash the cis-tem.

By now I’ve made my point about her gender pretty clear, so now it’s time to point out that Blue isn’t straight either. First of all, if she does not confirm to either of the binary genders, she cannot, in any way, be heterosexual, but either way, there’s just no way she’s straight.

Now, if you read this essay (? analysis? meta deep-dive?), you will soon be convinced that her entire friend group is queer somehow, which absolutely accounts for something because I can confirm, from real life experience, that queer people seem to flock towards each other. I will admit that we don’t really see her interact with many female characters outside of family (yes I will admit this is a red flag, but I promise the book passes the Bechdel test), but the vibes she gives off are clearly m-spec.

Additionally, because I am always looking for some representation of my own identity, Blue could potentially be somewhere on the aro-ace spectrum. This isn’t shown super strongly, especially since she does get a canon relationship and it’s very sweet and romantic. Yet, she is not really sex-driven or anything like that and seems to value friendship a LOT, though the entire theme of friendship in general throughout the series will be explained in a later part of this analysis. Also, while I am aware that the books are YA and thus won’t focus on sex too much either way, especially in teen characters, it’s comparably low, considering the premise is (wrongfully) about true love’s killing kiss. We can also compare her storyline and character to Kavinsky, someone her age who seems to be very obscene, and characters like Ronan, who are somewhere between them on that scale. Overall, I would probably call her pan, but once again, there might be some greysexuality or something similar in there.

Lastly, Blue would absolutely wear crop tops of course. Now that I think about it, she probably even does at some point in the books.

[bestworstcase]

My midnight shower thought: for Ozma and all his incarnations Salem has remained the same visually. She looks more or less the same since he met her for the second time, in the first new life where they became gods among men and had a family. But for Salem the Ozma that she loved and lost too soon has never returned to her. It’s his soul moved up in there, an undercurrent of his voice below all the others. But she hasn’t truly seen Her Ozma since many man lifetimes ago. Stagnant water isn’t safe to drink. The Salem he loved he saw for the last time as he died in a bed. They have not seen each other in so long god. God!!!

ok ok ok

the thing

this is a wild tangent from what you said i apologize

but the THING IS

the first thing we learn about the grimm beyond the vague mythical description of inevitable darkness, creatures of destruction, so forth—the first proper information we get about them is that they are “manifestations of anonymity,” that their darkness is the darkness of ignorance, of not knowing, contrasted against the light of knowledge and understanding. the soul is identity and grimm lack souls because they are anonymous

which is all very interesting as it pertains to salem’s monstrosity being so inextricable from her anonymity, from the isolation enforced by ozma’s absolute commitment to erasing her from history and keeping her existence a secret. obviously. BUT,

salem throws herself into the pool of grimm because she reasons that the force of pure destruction it holds might cancel out the pure creation she has been forced to carry, right. it changes her profoundly, restoring the equal balance between creation and destruction that people are supposed to have and in the same stroke making her grimm. there’s an obvious metaphor being constructed here about scapegoating and dehumanization that like 95% of the fandom is missing in truly hilarious fashion but also more saliently to the point i’m getting to, salem stood on that precipice and gazed down into the abyss and thought about what might happen to her if she jumped before making the choice to actually jump, and i think maybe the most critical piece of information we have about what she thought the pool of grimm would do to her is “if the fountain of life granted her immortality, then surely the pool of grimm would take it away.” jinn implies a suicide attempt but her description of salem’s own reasoning is not about death, it’s about trying to become mortal again. trying to remove her infinite life by throwing herself into a darkness equal to the light inflicted upon her; i don’t think it mattered to her much either way whether the pool would kill her outright or spit out one more monster as long as whatever was left of her afterwards had the possibility of death. she didn’t know exactly what would happen, but she very much chose to do it to herself with full awareness of what that choice entailed.

and then when ozma comes out of his impulsive agreement to do what the god of light asked, screaming in disorientation and terror, when a stranger asks him “who are you?” and he recoils in horror as the realization of what happened to him sinks in, it’s with oscar standing by to mutter pityingly that he didn’t know. he didn’t know what he said yes to, what it would mean, and then god of light hurled him back onto a battlefield and he didn’t even know who he was.

salem has always been herself and her face has always been her own, the face of her birth and the face that she chose for herself, and it is so so achingly clear that the physical transformation did not fundamentally change her. she’s still just the person she’s always been, if buried under the weight of a thousand facile narratives piled on her shoulders by people who cannot or will not see her for who she is.

but ozma said yes to a duty he didn’t want just so he could see her again and he’s spent every goddamned minute of his existence since then having his identity shredded by an endless parade of other people whose lives and souls he’s forced to consume and then become, over and over and over again until it becomes fucking meaningless, until he’s spent thousands of different lives doing the exact same fucking thing in different flavors, variations on a theme. and the only comfort he can get is don’t worry, eventually you won’t even know whos who anymore. he still doesn’t know who he is, he’s spent thousands of years not knowing who he is, because the god of light tricked him into saying yes to being torn apart and molded into an instrument of divine authority.

and there’s, like

i go a little nuts every time i think about the fact that salem still calls him ozma, that she intuitively knows whether it’s him speaking or oscar, that even the very first time she saw him with an unfamiliar face she recognized him instantly. bc ozma can’t tell the difference, ozma doesn’t even self-identify as a person anymore and treats the distinction between himself and oscar as a temporary technicality, but salem still knows who he is as clearly as she knows herself, just as he has lost his sense of who she is as thoroughly as he’s lost his own identity. and by the same token ozma has for lifetimes defined himself solely in opposition to her, solely by his fixation on destroying her.

and all of this in the narrative that made it explicitly, plainly clear upfront that the soul is a person’s knowledge of themself. that what makes a monster a monster is having no sense of identity.

the god of light tried to take his champion’s soul and salem is the reason he can’t.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Unlucky in Love

masterlist

Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse​

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

           But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

           Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

           It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

           A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

           When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

           By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

           With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

           Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

           “Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

           “O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

           “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off.  The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

           In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

          Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

           Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

           Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

           “I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

           “I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

           “Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

           Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

           You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

           I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

           Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

           “I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

           His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

           “What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

           It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

           “I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

           Someone please put me out of my misery.

           Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

           “Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

           “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

           Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

           “Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

           “I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

           Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

           To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

           “I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

           Wait – what?

           “You work here?”

           You nod.

           “I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

           “For how long?”

           “Coming up on three years now.”

           Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

           “Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

           “Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

           Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

           “Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans.            “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

           Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

           “You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

           “Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

           Your eyebrows raise in shock.

           “Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

           Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

           “I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

           Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

           “I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

           The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

           Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

           “I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

           “Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

           Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

           You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

           “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

           And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

--

           When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

           In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

           It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

           Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

           He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

           Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

           “Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

           Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

           “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

           “You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

           You nod.

           “Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

           Spencer is slow to shake his head.

           “N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

           You chuckled softly.

           “You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

           “Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

           “Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

           “If you say so.”

           “I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

           The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

           “Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

           “What kind of food?”

           “Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

           “Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

           Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

           “D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

           “Do you want me to come over?”

           “Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

           “Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

           “You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

           “Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

           “In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

           “Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

           “I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

           “Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

           Spencer cocks his head to the side.

           “Theory?”

           You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

           “You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

[queenburd]

hello, hi, op gave me permission to tangent, i’m mostly dead after my shift at work so let’s see how much sense this is going to make.

As a disclaimer: I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic school from Pre-Kindergarten through high school, thats 15-16 years of that education, and I am currently.... gnostic? spiritual? Im of the mindset that most of its probably real on SOME level but also, the gods can fight me. I’ll win.

The thing about the Bible is, depending on what you are grabbing, most of it IS based off history, but uh, history that was interpreted by the people of that time that we may not have the means to understand today. We CANNOT say it’s not a historical anthology. There’s literal chapters of the stuff that’s just family lineages, it was a way of keeping track of the bloodline, do NOT tell me that isn’t a historical piece of text, thank You. 

that said, those chapters still don’t fully translate to us Now, in the modern day. you’ve got lines where Person X lived to age 785 and was father to Person Y who lived to age 982. Taking that stuff literally is probably noooot in our best interest? BUT, we cannot say that it is inaccurate because for all we know, it was a different measurement of time. 

It’s not perfect. It’s not gonna translate perfectly. At the very least, the Christian version is not going to translate perfectly.

(I am NOT educated or at liberty to speak about Judaic interpretation. For all that the claim is the Old Testament is just “the Jewish Bible” (bleh) that ALSO is not an accurate statement to make, because we pulled a lot from it but it’s not 1:1. Christianity for example states Saints are figures who perform miracles after Christ, but Judaism from what I know has MANY people from the OT as Saints. Is this “lost in translation” issue antisemitism? just taking texts to interpret in a way that makes more sense for the religious narrative? again, I AM NOT EDUCATED IN THIS SUBJECT NOR AT LIBERTY TO SAY. I bring it up specifically because people constantly are using this whole ‘the OT cant be relied on as fact or history!” as some kind of gotcha, which drives me up the wall. In trying to shit on Christianity you’re kind of shitting on Judaism. Stop. That.)

We have to recognize our own limitations. We are not the people living through the stuff. Which brings me to my next subject which is the thing Im the MOST excited to babble about.

The Bible. Is an anthology. Written by humans. It is by its NATURE a flawed text, BECAUSE its writers are FLAWED, and TRYING to understand and interpret something they can only somewhat comprehend. That is my FAVORITE thing about it. 

By any religion’s standards, a deity cannot be fully understood. Humans can understand parts of it, can try to make sense of it and can try to use analogy and metaphor, but the deity itself is unable to be fully captured. It’s ineffable. All humans can do is try. 

The Bible is the EPITOME of this. You’re taking several thousand years worth of writing from different sources, compiling it, and trying to make it make sense? It’s not gonna be perfect. That does not make it all metaphorical or ahistorical, but it is important to contextualize the material with its writers, as well as the compilers’ intent (more on this soon). Try explaining a car to someone from a thousand years ago and they’re going to put it in words THEY understand. Boom. A flawed interpretation of something that is very real but couldn’t be understood by the person who had to write it down.

Now do that with multiple writers. Over multiple decades. It’s gonna read like a mess! It’s gonna read like a bunch of crockery! Doesn’t mean it is, though!

So how do we resolve this? How does the Church deal with the fact that there are numerous stories that conflict, that differ, that don’t all line up into the religious narrative they want?

Good ol fashioned editing.

It is somewhat well known at this point that there’s plenty of Gospels that were written that did not get included into what we now know as the Bible. For one reason or another the account they portray did not align with what, er, story, the anthologists wanted to tell. Again, individual interpretation, of flawed writers, so they had to keep what made the most sense. Hard enough to try to sort that out, considering the number of texts the early Church was working with.

The thing that delights me the most, and may be controversial but I view more than anything as an amusing testament to Humans Trying To Make This Make Sense, is how the NT tries to, as I call it, “give God a Character Arc”. 

OT God is, honestly, a tribal God. OT God has a specific group of people to protect (the Israelite tribes), and only those are the Chosen People. OT God can be vengeful, can be honestly scary. 

NT God is supposed to be a God of All People, not just The Chosen. Anyone can be converted, that’s a big part of the point in Christianity. Anyone can be saved, God loves everyone, insert more hippy nonsense here. < that’s a joke btw. 

So obviously this needs to make sense somehow. why is God down with all the folks, now? let’s uh, let’s find the stories where Jesus is made to acknowledge people who are not Jewish but ask for help and kindness and he ends up having to go “well, you know what, that’s fair.” You got the Centurion, you got the Gentile woman, you got him making his own story of the Samaritan. (For those who are not aware: Samaritans are an offshoot of the Israelite tribes who are not Judaic. That is the significance of the story, that a person who in the historical context would have been an enemy, was kind when two others who were supposed to be allies chose to do nothing.)

There’s a shift in the interpretation of God from stories like these, and that’s intentional, that’s so it makes sense. Because we as humans need things to make sense. 

The Bible is many things. It is a number of historical accounts. It is a compilation used to create a narrative of how we got from Point A to Point Z and Why You Should Care. It is a human interpretation of unknowable subjects. It’s, a little bit, a game of Telephone.

If people stopped trying to prove why it is or isn’t an accurate rendition of history, and took into account that it is Modern people trying to understand people from a long time ago, who in turn were trying to understand something way beyond their timeframe’s comprehension, then maybe we’d get more out of it even if it’s not your personal faith!

okay I think I’m done now I just really like talking about how God has a Character Arc

aw feck i missed the bible arguments i love bringing in the fact the Bible is a mess of an anthology with hundreds of years behind it and it's messy flawed people trying to make sense of what is and what is not metaphor which is a key part as to why its so contradictory. sonjaaaaaa i missed the "fun" sonja dont u wanna hear my thesis about how they had to try to "give God Character Growth" to explain how the Biblical God went from a tribal deity protecting his people to a God That Cares About Everyone. wouldnt that be FUN sonja

(I'm done bullying u now)

GOOD NEWS MAY THE FUN IS STILL UNGOING and only getting better bc now we get anti-intellectuals to bully

[fisherrprince]

ask dump (big long)

1) ABDBHTDND YEAH THEY DID UM, they did the ”no THANK you..! etc etc BUT IM WEAK” song too! Wild how that is now. points at them hey I know those guys

2) OHHH….. THIS HITS……….. I like missio sometimes but this is a nice chorus also: Vanitas… yeah I, like, always love music recs. they can be hit or miss but it’s only fair with how much music I find and then immediately go what if I showed everyone

3) how many does he have in there now, eleven? Twelve??? He signed up for one mouse and he got eleven human children or at least nine to ten human children, two young adults, and two regular adults who aren’t going to be helpful—

4) aaaaaaaaa thank you!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

5) MMM I haven’t thought extensively about cowboys for a while… it’s been mostly space up here for now, haha. I like my space murder. But that’s not to say I haven’t given them some fond passing thoughts! Two bros sitting in a river 5 feet apart cos they’re covered in mud and smell awful and one of them is very loudly blaming the other for the plan that involved hiding behind a barn (actually the last thing I wrote in my notes is a mini totally unfinished drabble of hiding in Lea’s bar but the “great hiding place” Lea has is in his floor)

6) gosh I Have to wonder if it’s a case of destiny/universal “the nature of humanity is that every so often someone invents homestuck again” or if we just, like, had common knowledge of the book of prophecies. Or not even the Book, maybe, I have to assume that knowledge/observance of the Foretellers phased out pretty quickly, but prophecies left unfulfilled would linger for generations probably. Or maybe they’re even old stories, a tale of seven masters of the past drawn in to a chess game, or the game based on the old fairytales, or the numbers 7 and 13 are ingrained in local culture … see, because obviously Xehanort implies that this prophecy/old masters stuff ISNT common knowledge, but Eraqus CERTAINLY knows about it and it’s in all the architecture/local myths… ok but then also, if we’re to take the opening chess game as more than just clever symbolic narrative bookends, everyone’s symbols ARE right there. I just kind of registered that’s probably what you were talking about. In which case our questions are still there, how much did the common populace know and how much did eraqus know? Did he like, end up with three apprentices who had very distinct chess symbols as keychains and go uh oh john or what—

hey why’d you do this to me. I’m a tired college student in scala on my sixth response paper about the prophetic legitimacy of foreordained keybearers versus the self-imposed creation of destiny as following common legend and I’m arguing with some guy named Einar about how you can’t just fake a prophetic fulfillment by claiming to be the Crown piece in chess. You can’t just KIN A CHESSPIECE, Einar.

7) ABGDJGD TY..!!! To be honest they also live in my head rent-free! Some of them need to start paying rent because I’m supposed to be in school getting Better at storyboarding—

8) hard same hey thats just bc magnet is uhhhh. The best spell? Aside from mine spells

9) SEE AGAIN I DONT KNOW bc for one Sora obviously isn’t ENTIRELY unique, if he’s able to be diagnosed so quickly, but this “holding your nobody and two to four other people in there” kind of thing probably has never been seen before. But for another, Roxas and Xion have copied a keyblade. Just like — a keyblade? Copied entirely? Wild.

anyways keyblade manifestation is a mystery to me and I’d love to see it explored because what we know the Lore is, is this: they were fashioned after the likeness of the x-blade. They can be bequeathed to others (shown to not necessarily mean that exact keyblade is passed down, probably this means the ability to wield can be bequeathed). They can be WILLFULLY given. They come from the heart, they are not welded out of steel. They are…. questionably sentient, or maybe just sapient, or somehow are picky about who holds them. Side note khwiki is telling me things I Did not know about the whereabouts of Ven’s heart during 358 and also the ability to wield two which requires more than one heart obvi but which is named synch blade??? always question the wiki but these have sources. Anyways. Keychains can swap their forms so they have a Base and Custom Skins mode. There are three kinds, Light (common), Darkness (Michael mouse??? Not his bbs one the rod one which I GUESS is a counterpa Iiiiii am getting off trackaaaaa), and Heart (which I’m guessing is just the x-blade, maybe the gayblade, and the kh1 keyblade of heart??). Um. What was my point here. OH yeah I was just gonna say Bro Wild. This is completely a mystery to me. Does every keykid’s base form keyblade look different, and we were all just given cool keychains? Are there some kids who melded unique keychains? If I were connecting dots wildly and with reckless abandon I’d say yeah and also you cannot just suddenly one day wield one, you HAVE to be bequeathed, but as soon as that happens it sparks the creation of your own personal heart sword. Every keyblade is manifested independently — those wielding a family keyblade have the ability to summon their own, if necessary, but the family sword is taking up that space in their heart and theyd have to get used to making their own. since, it seems, keyblades (summoned) will die and solidify if their bearer dies, but keyblades (unsummoned) will either disappear or summon themselves somewhere else and retain a small piece of your… essence. A legacy keyblade, I feel, would be a little something like feeling every past Avatar and you are the avatar, but you can’t talk to them. They’re there tho. Also I think that having an exceptionally strong heart would be not only a moral requirement for ensuring the keyblade’s duty is upheld, but also a physical requirement! youre carving out a bit of your heart to make room for a sword. Weak hearts should not do that even if they want to.

aye… how was that longer than the scala answer? You got me on tangents again in these essays I

10 (submission from licilou22)

NGDBFDBFSHGDHFDHGDA 😎👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼 WHEEZING

[valleydean]

Since you already wrote a dissertation on Winona Earp’s Doc Holliday, can you please write a dissertation on Val Kilmer’s Doc Holliday?

cannot believe some poor soul asked me this question of their own free will lmao

thanks for the ask anon! but tbh i don’t have too much to say. i mean, i think val kilmer’s portrayal was the closest to actual doc holliday that we’ve gotten so far in the media. i think my only thing is.... and it’s not exactly a complaint... but i think, in the movie, he leans more into the joking/glib side of doc - which is fair. he was definitely that. but he could also be really surly and an asshole - and not in a funny way. and we don’t really see that in the movie. when he’s being a dick, he’s usually funny about it. so, i mean, i think i would have liked to see him lash out and lose his temper and just be like.... mean. at least at some points. because he was that, too. it really did depend on his mood.

but, other than that, i think kilmer got the different sides of doc’s personality down really well, both verbally and in body language. you can really see his vulnerability and longing to fit in on his face. and the movie obviously focuses on how loyal doc was to wyatt, and all the earps, really. and it did a really good job at showing that doc came from a classy upbringing and that he was clearly educated and plays piano and invented fashion (even if it only mentions once that he was a dentist, which is fair because he didn’t practice dentistry in tombstone, so i’m not nit-picking that since it’s not relevant for that point in doc’s life).

i think the only thing i’d really change is doc’s entrance scene (which, i know, how can i say that since it’s so iconic??) but it really does lean into his reputation of being a cheat and a killer, which i didn’t find wholly necessary right off the bat. i mean - especially because doc wasn’t actually the one cheating during that game and he only pulled his knife in self defense. (also, in the scene when he was like “let’s forget the luggage” i’m like - that’s fake doc holliday would never leave his clothes behind!!! lmao.) also what happened historically in that scene is a lot more interesting than what happened in the movie, so i wish they would have expanded on it. tbh, i wish they would have expanded on doc’s role in tombstone a lot more too - because the ok corral likely wouldn’t have happened without him! but that’s a whole thing that i won’t get into here because it’s a very long history lesson lmao. but his role in actual events was extremely fascinating. also, in the court case after the shootout, doc basically represented himself. he had a lawyer and his lawyer worked with the earps’ lawyer, but doc was SUPER involved in the case all while he and wyatt were in jail. so he basically defended himself from a jailhouse, which is PRIMO doc holliday. (also, they wouldn’t let him testify because of his reputation, and they thought it would turn into “the doc holliday case” instead of what it actually was. which is fair. and he knew it was a good move. but the politics behind that always interested me, especially since he was so involved with the defense team.) so yeah, i would have loved to have seen more of doc’s role before and after the ok corral, because his role was HUGE! and i honestly think val kilmer is the only one who could have done that justice!

but anyway, i just went on a whole tangent that’s more of a critique of the actual movie than kilmer lmao. basically, what i’m trying to say is.... my only real complaint about his portrayal is that they didn’t let him stay blonde. other than that, it’s almost near perfect. a cultural reset. i want to shake val kilmer’s hand. at some points i’m like “they could resurrect actual doc holliday and make him play himself in a movie and it still wouldn’t be able to touch val kilmer’s performance.” he should have won the oscar that year and it’s a crime that he didn’t.

[betweentheracks]

My question is regarding styling for promotional work in the US - I see so many female stars who are in a different outfit, with full hair and makeup, for their interviews, sometimes with multiple changes per day. And then, there is their male costar slouching along in jeans and a rumpled shirt for a whole days worth of appearances. Is there a contractual requirement placed on female stars or is this just an industry norm? Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer!

Ah, look at you go Greyface! Taking a real stab right into the black heart of the style industry. How bold and perceptive of you! 🤭

The simple and direct answer is, this is a double standard.

The more complex path that still leads to same resulting answer is very worth traversing though and is filled with the peaks and plummets of the fashion industry's history. So, naturally, we'll walk this way together and take a look.

Buckle up, rack mates, this ride is a doozy. 

The following is my insight and perception as a professional stylist and is subjective to my position and role. 

It is a well and widely known fact of fashion and beauty that at the heart of all the glitz and glamorous there is a horrible ugliness beneath. It is treated as an unseen slight or even a "secret" we shouldn't talk much about. It is as old as fashion itself and has only been worsened over time and with the evolution of marketable style and beauty standards. Women are more promotional than men = women are more desirous than men = women are the pitch and men plunder fame by proxy.

Sex sells. Point of fact; type face bold print. This is the truth of fashion and entertainment and is a marketing strategy at this point.

Specifically, however, it isn't that "sex" sells but rather which sex sells. As in which gender is the apparent and clear choice to use as a promotional feature and living advertisement. The answer is, as it has been for ages now, women. Feminine features are fair and pleasing to behold. They can be dressed up and toned down; styled into an ideal of wanting and craving. Women can be influential to both male and female audiences by beckoning men's gazes to the treats she has for them (treats being whatever it is she is being used to stage and sell) while sitting loftily as an iconic standard of beauty for women to reach for and in turn take up anything to help achieve this ideal (meaning they'll buy whatever is being promoted in their wish to be like the woman on the package).

This strategy and double standard extends well beyond the immediate scope of fashion or upselling the brands of luxury labels. It is also very present in the entertainment industry as a means to promote films, television, and other media. You'll see an actress working the promo circuit or doing interviews dressed to the nines even in casual and laid back styles and then you'll blink and she's done up entirely different but no less coifed and glamorous. Meanwhile her male counterparts and costars are parading about in very understated styles or even sloppy attire, sometimes dressed out in high quality suits but still not quite up to snuff. The efforts of stylists clearly more aimed towards maintaining the woman first and the man second, if at all.

The second and less often discussed pigeon hole that fuels this sexist standard is money. Femme fashion, while typically more expensive, is still unquestionably more versatile than menswear. This is because fashion profits more off female consumption and interest than male and thus caters to that market with more variety and visibility. Wardrobe budgets for filming are skewed with more money funneled into the styling of an actress or female celebrity with a limit on how much is spent on the men. This is symbiotic with the pricing of menswear being less than womenswear but altogether more durable in its make.

It's frustrating and awful and I am ever so glad and thankful that it is slowly having attention called upon it by those within the industry. As modern style continues to evolve and dilute the boundaries between gender stereotypes and typecasting, this double standard becomes more and more frail. Many voices have started gathering in outrage over such rampant and asinine misogyny. Men have come forward to demand that they are as equally marketable and appealing, women have put their foot down and refused to be sexualized or sensationalized. There is the rising trend of androgyny and transgender recognition. Each step is in the right direction and in pursuit of an equal playing ground where women and men can each be glammed up and used as a standard for beauty or poised as a pinnacle of style.

I work extensively with male clients to this effect. I not only enjoy gender neutral styles but have clients that have made it clear they like the glamor of femme styles and want their image to be a balance of masculine and feminine. My oldest client wears heels and likes glittering eye makeup and has often made a case to be allowed to wear skirts or dresses, while my only female artist prefers more of an asymmetrical blending of menswear with feminine accents and likes her footwear to be the type that she, in her words, "can kick ass and stay looking class" while wearing.

There's an uptick in the emergence of queer brands and LGBTQ+ labels in the US with ideals/ethics steeped in the goal of gender neutrality and equality. With them comes the new hope for fashion's future where gender lines are not drawn and women are not the golden rule of promotional value for their supposed sexy/cute/inviting stereotype.

I hope to see men as a campaign centerpiece for lingerie, make up, and other needlessly gendered interests and women in ads for suits and leisure activities such as fishing or mudding and the other inherently male coded interests. I hope to see all gender typecasts and molds fall away entirely with people simply promoting things they enjoy. To see a full cast given the same amount of primping and stylized effort when making the rounds to talk up their projects.

Progress is slow but the world of fashion hinges upon welcoming change and being influenced by current climates and trends just as much as it influences outwardly. One of these days this double standard will be stripped out and the industry will again be revolutionized or it will become obsolete.

Beauty is beauty; people are people; style is style. Promotional/marketable viability cannot stay relevant against the might of such simple truths. The coming years will see the divide between gender being filled as designers and labels fight to remain prominent empires of fashion, and from there other interrelated industries will have no choice by to comply lest they find themselves stripped bare ass naked and lacking affiliations.

This post went and became a sort of tangent, whoops. I'll rest my rambling here and call it good. I intend to make a full post detailing the reshaping of fashion in the height of today's evolving inclusivity of gender roles and norms and the correlation of how fashion has long since been steps ahead in this movement. This ask happens to be a good sounding place for what some of that content will look like.

Fashion and style was never intended to give distinction between the masculine and feminine nor to place significance on gender. Segregation in fashion was initially between wealth and status; a determination of class in way way back when clothing first became an expression. Originally, fashion had no actual gender associations and men and women all worse similar styles of robes that would now be considered dresses. Class and wealth gave way, buckling to the thought of using one's showy status to promote goods to be traded and this was the birth of marketing women as a means of interest. Ever since it has been an internal struggle between ethics of material misuse of rights (sexism) versus capital relevancy (turning profits via brand visibility). A number of fashion houses are guilty of going with the flow and hoping the fortune and reputation made along the way could either cushion the blowback of systemic misogyny one day being aired out or could be used to steadily alter the trajectory of style's evolution.

Consider fashion as a tightrope act being performed between the politics of brand recognition and the conceptual idealism of expression. One small and out of sync step will result in a dire fall with no way of knowing if there is a safety net to pardon a brand or label from plunging into obscurity. This is why the fashion industry prefers taking time to plan careful steps forward and seldom rushes out. Fashion keeps pace while also staying baby steps ahead to change the course of current societal trends, even willing to sometimes relinquish any ground it has in effort to remain on the wire at all. It's a precarious give and take.

Three paragraphs later, truly, I yield to the length of this post and am done. I can’t guarantee this was even close to what you wanted to know and for that I am sorry. I get swept up by the passion I have for the inner workings of the business and lose myself (and my train of thought so if this doesn’t make a lick of sense, that would be why lol). Still, I do hope some of this sheds a little light on the matter. 

[gayregis]

netflix witcher and netflix witcher fans really showcase the absolute Audacity of americans using foreign (in this case polish) words they don't understand and cannot pronounce right at all for absolutely no fucking reason like what was the point?? what was the point of butchering my language haven't yall had enough???

really agreed. sorry if this sounds like kind of off-topic or a tangent, but i swear i’ll loop it back around to your point eventually — i was discussing about jaskier’s name in the server earlier with @nightimefairy and the decision from lauren to keep it in polish in the [obv. american but important for content] netflix adaptation.

to an english-only speaker, the word “jaskier” doesn’t sound really different than any other name in the witcher, it does not translate the meaning that it’s the name of a flower.

jaskier/dandelion’s name being obvious to the audience as being the name of a flower is important, because it helps define his character if only by name. i remember when i first learned of the character, i really was like, that’s a strange name, no one is called dandelion from birth, and why would someone be called after a flower. of course months later when i read the tower of the swallow (or perhaps minutes later when i read the wiki, because i wanted spoilers ahaha) it was a mystery that was solved for me. but if he hadn’t been named his translated name — dandelion — i would have totally had missed this and not understood at all that his name is the name of a flower and not like, a “normal” name that one would totally give to the child they bore. but overall, this name of a flower suggests to the reader that buttercup/dandelion isn’t his real name, making them wonder what it, and thus his other identity, could possibly be. and we all know that artist-types tend to have a stage or a pen name under which they perform or publish, so dandelion having this name cements for the reader that he is such an artsy-type.

then of course, a buttercup or a dandelion being a small yellow flower makes it not an especially masculine name, and additionally these flowers are largely considered weeds... that’s two things we can tell about the character right off the bat. and since they are yellow flowers with golden petals, we can understand another thing about him — he’s blonde, it’s a fitting nickname due to his hair color. and of course, blondes carry with them many different literary and modern media tropes.

additionally, the name not being translated in english adaptations prevents it from carrying any other linguistic cleverness or connotations — for example a similar-sounding word for the original polish jaskier, “jaskrawy,” meaning vivid/vibrant/brilliant, or similar-sounding words for the english translation dandelion, “dandy,” a historical term for an effeminate or foppish man (think “yankee doodle dandy,” who ‘stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni’... i.e. basically ‘did something foolish and called it fashion’) and/or an colloquial expression to indicate pleasure or happiness (“oh well, that’s just fine and dandy!”, sort of like “swell!”)

although it’s not a perfect 1:1 translation, as a dandelion is not the same flower as a jaskier (buttercup), the name carries a very fitting connotation with it for the character, which can be used to understand him (and of course he is not the only one, for example, milva being named after a red kite, regis meaning king)

however, when you don’t translate “jaskier,” and leave his name as-is, this leaves the english-only speaking audience completely missing everything i just talked about. you won’t understand a thing about his character by knowing that his name is jaskier, because english-only speakers don’t know what a “jaskier” is, and they also don’t have the vocabulary in polish to understand the connotations in that language ...

and this is the entire point of translations. to translate meaning from one language to another — often imperfect, as is the nature of language, but necessary when trying to bridge gaps of understanding.

and when you deliberately don’t translate, you get english-only speakers thinking that they know how to pronounce words in polish because their favorite british boys on screen said a polish word aloud a few times. and you get anglicizations of words that don’t make any sense at all — for example... “jas” or “jask” as a nickname, when that’s not how polish language functions (to my knowledge) and there are specific conventions for making pet names or nicknames in the languages (with diminuatives?) (to my knowledge).

to me, it demonstrates, from both the american creators and the audience, the white american perspective that other cultures and languages are easy to understand and take from, as long as you think that you are being respectful (not that you ARE being respectful, only that you determine yourself to have good intentions). the approach lacks any actual respect, carefulness and preciseness, and most importantly actually talking or reaching out to people of that culture & language, so you are not just trying to do something yourself that you don’t know shit about, but that you can learn from others (and make friends along the way hopefully).

but as you said — what was the point?

in my opinion a lot of the point of including untranslated polish words in the netflix adaptation was part of the marketing towards the polish audience (and perhaps books audience?) that they attempted, with relatively little success. lauren proclaiming on twitter that she’s loved these books and read them dozens of times, the youtube videos with the actors reading scenes from the books with sound effects edited in (to me, reminiscent of the polish audiobooks, but the polish audiobooks have better quality), the games with the actors trying to guess what witcher-relevant polish words mean in english.

when in reality, it’s obvious they didn’t really care (or at least, the people making the top decisions) didn’t really care about making a books-faithful adaptation (this isn’t even attempting to touch the topic of making an adaptation that respects the origin culture of the witcher).

of course from the trailers (and casting... re: cavill and batey, who don’t look like their characters’ book equivalents) everyone could tell that this wasn’t an “adaptation of the books” like they sometimes advertised it. but if they were able to show, hey, we didn’t change this one name of this one character to english, hey, we have read the books, look, we are literally reading them on camera! ... then they might get some more polish books fans to give the series a watch, meaning more people to buy into a netflix trial which then all too easily leads into a subscription because people forgot to cancel or enjoyed the convinience of netflix and ‘hey what’s $10 anyways,’ which leads to money for them, which is how they gauge their success. they don’t give two shits about respecting anything, because that doesn’t give them any money.

i do find it amusing though, because they’re like “we have the amazing minds so much better than sapkowski to improve on the witcher and we’re truly just visionaries who are taking the books into an inspired direction and it’s not an adaptation, it’s so much more” while also being like “we respect the books so much and we worked with sapkowski and we really wanted to be faithful to the books and this is an adaptation where we really thought about the canon material” like just choose a marketing ploy and run with it, you’re going to tire yourself out running between both camps. though it does look to me like finally in season 2 the mask will be off because they’re adding so many new OCs and plotlines they really won’t be able to pretend they cared about the books at all (e.g. geralt throwing axes from trees)

[komoryriku]

Queering KH Part 4: Hearts in Tune

Actually KH Finally lol

Pictured: Riku humming Sora’s name in a soft, adoring, wistful voice the way a swooning straight person sighs the name of their beloved of the opposite gender.

Kingdom Hearts gives off so many subtextual signals of queer coding that it genuinely BAFFLES me how people can really believe it is straight. You may be wondering what makes me so confident in that when there has not been anything in the games to explicitly prove any of the characters are not straight, and I will be happy to tell you. It is because in order to believe Kingdom Hearts is straight, you have to ignore WAY too much subtext. To truly believe that Sora is in love with Kairi and only coded to be interested in Kairi, you have to ignore his questioning of what love is. You have to ignore the combined keyblade he shares with Riku. You have to ignore how much the narrative is driving him to understand that Riku is his most important, cherished person. This all goes doubly for Riku who has a coming out story not unlike Elsa’s metaphorical one, in which his love for Sora is his greatest source of strength. You have to pretend the necklace gifting plot point is entirely straight and cannot possibly mean anything homoromantic. You have to ignore the way Sora cries while clutching Riku’s hand compared to his subdued and non-emotional reunion with Kairi- that’s just too much “accidental subtext” for me to confidently ignore lol. Intentional or not, KH is Gay~

Here’s how we’re gonna do this.

So where the hell do I even begin with coding KH? Well- I can’t possibly queer the whole of KH text in 1 summer, so what I plan to do is this:

Give you the tools to understand KH’s coding so that you can code it yourself~

Queer a few major KH scenes so that everyone can see that the proof is in the pudding.

I’m gonna try to break down various scenes to decode them and queer them so you can see what’s at play in KH. Originally when this meta was a single doc, I was only gonna cover 4 scenes. But since I’m breaking it into parts to update at my leisure, I’m gonna just add scenes and meta as I go~

Now without further ado:

How the Hearts in Tune scene is Gay Coded

This shouldn’t be too hard at all.~

This scene is almost too easy. 

The scene opens with Sora bringing Mickey the sound idea he found but as it turns out, one sound idea is not enough. Sora tells us not to worry because he has a friend who is always picking up the slack for him. Likewise, on Riku’s end, he brings his sound idea to Mickey and is surprised to see that Sora’s sound idea is necessary to complete the song. 

Once the sound ideas meet, this beautiful visual plays out in which the 2 sound ideas swirl around each other and the soundtrack title “Dearly Beloved” plays. 

Now, there are several things I want to note about this sequence- heck this visual alone before we move on. 

Recall earlier when I discussed Shiki’s point that blue and pink (likewise blue and red) “go together”, romantically.

I will let the visual of Sora’s sheet music being pink while Riku’s is blue speak for itself. But I will also add how this ties into the yin and yang themes I’m about to discuss:

Yin and Yang

This concept gets its own section because it’s such an influential concept in so many aspects of various cultures around the globe.

Yin and Yang is an eastern philosophy which illustrates the concept of dualism. In short, it is the concept that 2 opposite halves are complements to a whole. The original term in fact translates to dark-bright.  

I am neither a philosophy professor or student so I will keep this as brief as I can and simply encourage you to study up on Yin and Yang at your own leisure. I will however paste this section from wikipedia because I think it is extremely helpful information to have for studying eastern media in general. 

Yin and Yang: husbanded opposing forces. Dark-Light, Moon-Sun, Chaos-Order, Winter-Summer, Negative-Positive.

Female (Yin)-Male (Yang): Yes this is often used in a heteronormative heterosexual context because people are homophobic and believe in gender binaries, unfortunately, but I implore you to consider the concept in more figurative, spiritual, aesthetic themes, especially since Yin and Yang is a much grander philosophy than mere sexuality discourse; it’s about complementary forces creating a whole. 

For shipping purposes, think opposites attract. Think concepts that are traditionally associated with femininity meshing with concepts that are traditionally associated with masculinity. Queer media has a wonderful way of subverting heteronormative Yin and Yang tropes by showing that cis-hetero standards can be hypocritically non-compliant with the complementary concept.

Rather than thinking of this, 2 heteros in love based on being just- the same person with opposite genders:

Think of this, same gendered couples with complementary personalities:

Think about how an aloof scrappy butchy vampire queen attracts an uptight calculating femme princess.

Think about how this goody-goody dumb jock with a martyring hero complex attracts this naughty cunning jock with a self-loathing villaness complex.

And now think about how badly we need more canonical mlm couples in children’s media lol. Oops my finger slipped. But I’m getting ahead of myself lol.

The concepts of interconnected opposite forces are so important and prominent in literature throughout the world, but yin and yang is ESPECIALLY important in Kingdom Hearts because it is a story that explicitly explores Light and Dark forces. It explores how they both oppose one another in catastrophic ways,

and how they complement each other in harmonious ways.

Getting ahead of myself again… But hey speaking of harmony, back to the matter at hand.

Hearts in Tune.

This scene shows a number of romantic symbols. As I was saying before the yin and yang tangent, pink and blue (nee red and blue) are already symbols of romantic suggestion. And in the case of them representing 2 parts of a whole song, these song pieces act as complementary halves, adding another layer of dualism to the scene. Furthermore, the music sheets swirl around each other in a yin and yang fashion. Harmony has been achieved. This lets us know these forces belong together. These forces representing Sora and Riku. They are husbanded together. These 2 hearts in question are part of each other. In fact, Mickey even says so:

Perhaps most damning, however, is that the song in question is “Dearly Beloved”, arguably the theme song for Kingdom Hearts as far as the score goes. I’m sure it goes without say that “Dearly Beloved” is not only in itself a romantic sounding phrase but it is also the phrase specifically said by officiators of weddings to the congregation before the wedding vows are exchanged. “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today…” 

I will also mention that Riku’s dream eater symbol visible in the shot is specifically designed based on a bleeding heart flower, a symbol of passionate love. Credit to Steam for pointing this out here, please follow them and read their posts they are magically delicious:

So almost everything about this scene is aesthetically romantically coded, and I didn’t even mention the fact that Dream Drop Distance’s whole color palette is themed with rainbows, which as I said earlier is absolutely still a gay symbol in Japan. Note the rainbow of colors animating from the sheet music. 

So in terms of the atmosphere of the scene, its already incredibly homoromantic in every way I can think of. But what about the dialogue?

Well lets talk about the dialogue. Dialogue should always been read with care when you’re trying to queer a text. Often a lot of queer messaging in a text is subtextual. This means the text itself may actually say something gay, but you have to read further into it. This is an old method of queer writing designed to protect the writer from getting in trouble for their gay crimes.

Historical aside on this:  If you’ve ever read Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, you may have note that Lord Henry can never just simply say that he is gay, lest Oscar Wilde be charged for homosexuality in 19th century England. Instead, Lord Henry simply tells us he is married to a woman, but makes it clear throughout the text that this marriage is mostly performative and he is not emotionally invested in it whatsoever, going against the puritanical, heternormative ideals of Victorian prudery. Lord Henry is by contrast MUCH more invested in following the life and times of his very close friend Dorian Gray, with whom he shares a hedonistic philosophy in the name of Fin de siècle. Not to be a downer but for the sake of understanding how real this subject of oppressed gay censorship is, despite keeping the homosexual themes as purely subtext, Oscar Wilde was tried and convicted of homosexuality and this book was used against him in court. 

What we are privileged to have today with KH is a cutscene and not just a script. Meaning we have visuals, animation, voice acting, musical cues, etc etc to follow along with to enhance our subtext. 

On Sora’s end of the conversation, Mickey points out that the song is incomplete with just his sound idea alone, and Sora tells him not to worry, as Riku is his dependable friend who will fill in where he fails. The text in the official English translation is:

Mickey: That's strange... Is one Sound Idea not enough?

Sora: Don't worry. I've got a friend out there who will help. He's always 

picking up the slack for me.

This on its own sounds platonic. But note just how affectionate Sora’s voice acting is when he says it. Not only that, he clutches his heart to let us know how close he is to Riku and how much his connection with Riku matters to him. How much confidence he has in this friend he cares so much about. He then closes his eyes after saying it, smiling up in the air blissfully while he waits for their hearts to make their connection and finish the song.

Once it is finished, Mickey remarks that their sounds joined together to make something more powerful. Sora then says looking thoughtful, “Yeah. Two forces are better than one. Right, Riku?”

Following this, Sora leaves to fight the boss.

On Riku’s side, Mickey questions what happened, and Riku looks up thoughtfully, and says tenderly, “Sora.”

Mickey comments “Sora? Funny... Just hearing that name kinda makes me wanna smile.” and Riku tells him warmly, “Yeah. That's how he is.”

Mickey then goes on to say some really shippy stuff:

“Whaddaya know... Riku and Sora. The Sound Ideas you two set free joined together. And when they did, they made a great and powerful harmony.”

Riku then nods and tells Mickey brightly that “Sora can find the brightest part of anything, and pull off miracles like there's nothing to it. It's pretty hard not to smile around him.”

And I would like to pause to look at that line. “It’s pretty hard not to smile around him.” Although Mickey says the same thing, that just hearing Sora’s name invokes a smile, we sense a somewhat deeper meaning in Riku saying it. Why is that? Well, for one thing this game is entirely about Riku protecting Sora and exploring how much Sora actually means to him. This game is continuing Riku’s redemption arc from KH2, but it is also doing something perhaps even more important: it is providing him a journey of self discovery. This test resets Sora and Riku to level 1 so to speak, not just in their powers but even their models revert to variations of their KH1 selves. This helps to underscore Riku re-examining himself and his feelings. 

And then guess what? Mickey makes some even SHIPPIER commentary. He exclaims “Wow! No wonder the music sounded like so much fun. But I bet he's got you to thank for that. Having such a good friend means he could really enjoy it.”

Riku is taken aback by this comment. “Huh?”

Mickey continues, expressing some extremely yin and yang themed sentiments, 

“It's like each of you is holding on to a little part of the other. Your hearts are always in tune, so they're free to sing. Gosh, I hope I can be part of the team someday.”

Mickey did us a wonderful favor and expressed to us explicitly, for those who didn’t understand the romantic coding of the scene already, that Sora and Riku are a good match. Mickey tells Riku that the music sounded like fun in English, that it was a happy, pleasurable time, and tells him that Sora has Riku for a friend which is what must have made it so enjoyable. 

So from this dialogue we get assurance that Sora and Riku are two very close friends, whose hearts are connected, and they are 2 powerful forces that merge into an even greater one. Their hearts are in tune.

Now if this were a scene about a boy and a girl, I doubt anyone would question whether it was romantic. Why should we be asked to look at it platonically just because it is 2 boys? The romantic imagery is clear. 

And let me ask you this while we’re still on the subject of Dream Drop Distance: 

According to Riku’s character files, he had previously thought of Sora as a little brother, and tried to be a cool older brother to him. 

He then tells us that this has changed. What did it change to? 

The surface level, heteronormative answer would say it changed to them being merely friends. 

But isn’t that an odd regression? After all, found family is a thing, and that’s a bit weird for him to question since there is no reason for those feelings to change on that notion. If Sora loved him like a brother, that clearly hasn’t changed. Riku clearly loves Sora as deeply, so that didn’t change. The other problem with this phenomenon Riku is dealing with is that there is no reason for him to feel this strange sense of repression we keep seeing over this change. He is constantly holding back on some feelings for Sora but platonic and brotherly feelings are entirely acceptable. What is it that he is hiding? What sort of feelings for Sora would be hidden?

From the Kh2 Novel: 

He really did want to see Sora and talk. But that was impossible with this appearance. The things that mattered the most were what he couldn’t tell Sora. It had always been that way.

What sort of feelings might be systemically oppressed?

This scene is pretty much EXACTLY what I would do to say as explicitly as possible that Riku is gay without being able to say it outright due to censorship. 

[pasdedeux-archive]

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌? 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍? — Thank you everyone who has applied !! You’re all amazing writers and quite honestly I had no less than three mental breakdowns during the deliberation period.

 To those who were not chosen, please know that this is not a mark against your writing or your characters. I loved them dearly and I would be such an honor if you wanted to join with a different muse. However, I know applications take a very long time and a lot of heart so I completely understand if you do not wish to do so.

With that said, congratulations to those who were accepted. Please make sure you look at the checklist, and send in your character account within 24 hours. I will be sending out discord invitation links tomorrow after I clean up the server a bit (aka making a guide on how we will be using discord to roll and such).

K playing Elizabeth Augusta Sinclair, the luminary; violinist for the Bolshoi Ballet

"It is summer, and the countryside is alive with birdsong and bloom, rays of golden light cascading, warm breeze dusting the ground with the caress of a lover. You are eight, stumbling through the knee high fields of flowers, laughter light and joyful, Aestas come down to Earth."

I loved your portrayal of Elizabeth. Half ghost half girl, there is something incredibly provocative in the way in which she tries to become all that she thinks she can be. I was listening to Swan Lake Act II. No. 10. during your muse sample and it ended just as I finished reading it. Coincidence? I think not. Elizabeth will make a wonderful addition to the group, and I cannot wait to see how her story plays out. I've been thinking about potential subplots for her and wowie my brains a racing.

Amy playing Yelena Andreyevna Kusnetsova, tbd.

“In years past, she’d been able to push down the worry that she was missing out in some way. That true freedom of expression had eluded her, for reasons that had nothing to do with how hard she worked. Often, she’d even convinced herself that she didn’t need freedom at all.”

Yelena has such a presence about her that I can't help but be enamored with her. There is a wistfulness in everything she does, but it does not slow her down. In fact, I would argue it makes her all the more present. She reminds me of a deer, ephemeral but wise and always on the lookout for potential danger. For a person such as herself, I see the workings of a woman afraid to die and afraid of the life she has already been living. Yelena will be such a treat to see develop and I cannot wait to see what kind of shenanigans occur during the story!

Nayab playing Hana Volkova, the veiled; soloist at the bolshoi theater

“It is to no music her wings spread, and she is commanded to fly. In a single, suspended moment in time, Volkov leeches from the depths of her, everything the art once meant to her. Its purity is tainted, and if her heart had not already lost all faith, the sicles Volkov aims to her heart and pierces her with surely bleed her dry of the blood of love.”

When Hana was given a buffet in front of her as threat toward her compliance that pierced me like a knife. Her demotion to soloist as punishment for stepping out of line I think is a beautiful analogy for how girls like her aren't meant to last long: they're meant to be sacrificial pawns so that others may endure and to think that one can be anything other than that is a mistake. Loss which permeates all of one's being is meant to hurt, and Hana has demonstrated one way of being resilient.

Esme playing Marilyn Campbell, the maelstrom; corpse de ballet at NYCB

“You once told a story to your brother, told him that if the sea claims you, it drags you so far away from the shore that you turn into a deadly fish, a fish that could devour the entire world.”

Marilyn is the perfect storm, ready to consume all that which does not heed her. I love how you portrayed her resignation to what she is, and perhaps what she thinks is all that she will ever be, but even her doubts are thwarted by her want, her consuming desire, to become someone else. Much like the Bermuda Triangle, she may be a touch auspicious, but people cannot help but want to be pulled into her destruction. I love the ideas you have for her plot development and I can't wait to see how it all unfolds.

Georgia playing Fred Baker, the insurgent; head of security at the NYCB

“The brothers bought a radio before they did a bed.”

First of all, holy shit I loved your memes they were. Oh my god, so funny. When I go over apps the first thing I do is look at the meme section, and let me tell you — just that little bit you gave me enticed me to want to know more about Fred. When I finally began to read him my heart SWOONED. Do you hear me? Swooned. He's such an interesting character, filled to the brim with animosity and hurt — he deals with his past the best way he can. I also cannot wait until Fred introduces everyone to the soul of America with his love for jazz.

Taryn playing  Zinaida Petrovna Sabitova, the sacred; principal dancer at the bolsoi theater

“Still, there are some evenings when her mother looks over from her place at the vanity, still all-over aside from the wafts of smoke burning from her cigarette, and seems to be studying her own child. Looking for something. Wondering.”

You wrote in your application is Zinaida good or evil, Odette or Odile — and while I do not have an answer for you right now, I do know that I would love to explore that with you. She's a beautiful girl whose life is tragic in the way only fairy tales can be. The perfect Jewel of Moscow (I did like that name), who while controlled by those above her wishes for her own happy ending despite knowing that her end will be nothing less than fatalistic. Her aversion toward things which reminds her of her own mortality hits home, omg, yes, why must I have this human body. Why must I suffer having lived.

Anna playing Yelena Yuryevna Min, the dream; corpse de ballet at the bolshoi theater

“What Yelena didn’t remember was the hushed arguments her parents would have every other night before he left – how he would say with so much conviction even as her mother begged him not to, “things will be better for us if the state knows we’ll die for her.”

AHHH, that broke me, that line right there broke me. I can so ardently feel the love and happiness her family gave her, their precious daughter, and how they would do anything to give her the world she deserves. Then you went on to talk about her apprehension to go to Vagnova, and my world turned upside down. Her disposition really speaks to me, and her family ties as well. She's also a breath of fresh air, like a sunflower in a meadow that had recently rained. Her optimism and kind disposition really shines through in your app and in your memes.

Claudia playing Eva Miro, the swan; principal dancer at the NYCB

“but lena understood sacrifice, she saw it every day when her mother would come home exhausted, weathered hands cracked and aching so she wouldn’t go hungry. to love something meant giving everything you had, everything you were or could ever be, to feed that love.”

Gonna start my little tangent with wow, your mood-board :cheff kiss: absolute perfection. I don't use extras as a basis for my decision making, merely something I admire from afar, but damn — if I did yours would no doubt be at the front of the line. There were two parts of your application that I wanted to highlight, and the other was half your application lmao. Your muse sample really expanded your character and showed me how much of a Swan Eva can be. I called the Swan skeleton a starling at the beginning, a bird which choses their survival above all else. A transformation of a girl into a star, Eva is a force which cannot be tamed unless you destroy her.

V playing Alina Vasilieva Filippova, the tbd; ballet master-repetiteur at the bolshoi theater

“She remembers thinking: ‘this will not be the end’.”

All ballet dancers in this RP live and breathe ballet, but Alina is in a realm of her own. I loved how you wrote her to be a ballet master, someone who would put aside their pride of being a "former prima ballerina" to now teaching a group of dancers because ballet is all that she is. Your muse sample really showed me the intense power of a woman who knows what she wants, and who she is — even if all she believes herself to be is something irrevocably intertwined with ballet. I'm very excited to see the relationship she forms with her dancers and with those who are from out of the Union. I'm particularly interested in her second plot development point and would love to explore that in game.

Abby playing Viktor Antonievich Vasylenko; the raconteur, pianist for the bolshoi ballet

No, Viktor had fashioned the resentment into an albatross of his own, hanging limp and heavy from his neck.

What can I say about Viktor other than I'm a fan. He's so gentle and yet so resilient, a mess of cacophonous sounds that melds into a beautiful sonata. There's pain in him, a ghost which lingers from his past, and while resigned to perhaps eternal disappointment he continues. I loved the way in which you developed his reason / background for being in the Bolshoi Theater when he himself could have been a star — still strives to be actually: but more resigned this time in his ambition. I loveee Viktor and I can't wait to see how he develops.  

     — 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘

Principal Dancer: Zinadia, Eva, Soloist: Hana, Yelena (tbd)* Corpse de Ballet: Yelena (dream) , Marilyn Violinist: Elizabeth Bodyguard: Fred Ballet Master: Alina Pianist: Viktor * still talking to writer about a few details.

[kireiscorner]

I need help Do you have any tips on drawing female bodies?

1) Take half of what you've learned from anime and throw it out the window.

2) Take every male expectation of women and YEET that shit. Ask girls what makes them feel good, observe people around you, and start pulling from women in real life. I cannot tell you how excited my first animation teacher was that I drew women with muscle mass. Like, the dude outright thanked me in front of the entire class and then went on a tangent about how women have muscles too. Women have so many body types, research the look you want.

3) DO NOT SACRIFICE FEMININE FEATURES! I get it; some of you will be creating trans or agender characters, but keep in mind anatomy and how it works. And by that I mean the way their bone structure and such works. It's more realistic and easier to identify with when people can see their identity there than completely wiping out their journey. Looking more feminine but not identifying as a female does not change the fact that they identify differently. It's just how their body is and you dont need to wipe that evidence to make your point. I know trans ppl who still have feminine feature who identify as male or agender. Its normal??? That's real life, pull from real life.

4) Avoid giving stereotypical features where you can. THAT INCLUDES SLIM THICC AND BIG BOOBS. Not all latina and black women are thick. We dont all have thick lips and big noses or kinky hair. Fuck that. Yes there are common features between races but not always. My mom has a short upturned nose, I have a long bridge and bubble nose, and my Puerto rican cousin has a wide short nose. Pull from real life, but stay true to your character too. Have MULTIPLE refs, at least 7 or so to give you more variety. This includes for body types, lips, noses, eye shapes, etc. Cause I cant count how many times in hs I've seen ppl get mad when different Latinos or Asians got mad for being said another Latino or Asian was the same or that Africans and Blacks look the same or all white people look alike. Theres so much variety in the world, use it. God created it all for a reason. Feed that artistic brain yo.

5) Look to what in real life age groups wear. We dont wear uniforms, overly fashionable color scheme oriented outfits, or model wear. Think about what shapes look good on certain shapes. Think about where they're from, why they're dressed a certain way; again, avoid stereotypes. Not all black girls need to be dresses to be super ethnically-coded. I wear leather skirts, pajama pants, and yoga pants just like every other girl. We all like to be cute but we also like to be comfortable too! Sometimes we dont wanna dress up and sometimes we wanna give aphrodite a run for her money. We dont all wear makeup of have piercings. Anyone can inherit moles, freckles, etc. not just certain races.

6) Figure out personalities first if you can. A lot of times this can determine how a girl does their hair, makeup or no makeup, clothing style, etc. Their personality is very important and can also effect posture and gestures too.

7) PRACTICE. PRACTICE ANATOMY. PRACTICE WITH VARIOUS BODY TYPES. TAKE FIGURE DRAWING CLASSES IF POSSIBLE IT HELPED ME SO MUCH.

8) One thing I constantly see is ppl thinking theres one way certain types of women look or can act. Like, short hair and "boyish" tendencies means ur gay. Feminine traits mean you're weak and soft. Girls who dont have interest in love are bitchy or gay. That's bullshit. Maybe shes content not having a partner, maybe she doesnt need one. Shes no bitch she just dont want you. Characters dont have to date, esp female characters to be an important woman. WE EXIST. There are very feminine, super girly, cuddly cute gay women. THEY EXIST. There are short haired straight women. Draw them. THEY EXIST. Break barriers, your character is yours and if you want a buff, tall, bisexual long haired goddess who believes all clothing must be made of lace do you boo. If you want a character who is lanky as hell, bald, and killer spicy mama go for it. Draw her too, shoot. Draw all the girls.

9) Everyone has different versions of sexy. Boobs and ass hanging out isnt everyone's sexy. Sexy doesnt mean sloppy, sexy doesnt mean turning the character into a prop. Respect your characters plz! You dont know who will see it and who u can influence.

10) DONT LET PPL TELL YOU REAL LIFE WOMEN DONT LOOK LIKE WOMEN THATS DUMB

And those are kireis main rules for drawing women. The most helpful thing is pulling from real everyday life, I promise you. That, and knowing women know our bodies best so we're gonna give you experienced answers. Hope this helps even tho I'm high key ranting lol

[red-and-blonde-moved]

I present to you: one free ticket to gush about someone, use it well and use it wisely, you don’t know when another will come along pal

I use it well by gushing about many people!!!!!

Anyone who knows me knows who they are I just feel awkward saying their names so you get 1 2 and 3 instead.

1. she's incredible she is straight up the funniest person you will ever meet and I'm not just saying this because I love her so much she makes me laugh constantly,

I met her early last year but we only really became friends when we started to talk about Les Mis and the fact that she puts up with my nonsense about that still is incredible, sidenote draw more Joly with his walking stick I like how happy it makes her.

And I'm sure she hears this so much but like she's actually really pretty like wtf who gave her the right?????? Also she's a fashion icon.

Also!!!!! She's just like, my best friend, she's my mum friend absolutely and I would kill to just live in a little cottage with her and 2 and 3 and curl up on the couch and cuddle her whenever I feel bad because she probably gives the best fucking hugs.

2. they're just perfect ok dude, not perfect, because that's bullshit and humans and shit but like they're getting very goddamn close bro!!!!

They're just really lovely I cannot stress this enough okay they're the most kind compassionate person I know they'll always make sure people feel okay and they're so gentle like everything they do feels so gentle and lovely like they're wrapping me in a fluffy blanket and giving me hot chocolate when really they're just like,,, telling me to eat dinner.

I've said this before and I'll say it again but they feel like my home or more like my dream home, like a nice cottage where it's always a sunny day and there's plants everywhere and I'm just there with them and 1 and 3 and yes I'm still talking about cottages but I want them to adopt me and take me to live in the countryside.

they're my big brother and just I genuinely cannot put into words how important my siblings are to me so like that's a lot y'know.

I don't think they quite understand how important to me they are but I'm trying fucking hard man.

3. You've gotten me started, and this is the point where my tangible "he did X and that meant a lot to me" things get seemingly smaller but they're more like examples of the kind of things he'll do for me and I'm particularly bad at expressing how much I love him so you're getting my very bad attempts.

First of all: he's really good at listening and doing things that make me happy, like he started calling me darling recently because I mentioned I love it and he makes my heart melt I swear he's so lovely to me.

He's a big dork, we have this really strange brand of jokes and stuff but like find yourself a man who'll go on a dramatic rp with you out of nowhere because he doesn't like you comparing GG the Giraffe to Gavroche or he wants to be philosophical and I refuse to let him without undermining it by saying he's Grantaire.

Sidenote he has this very cute was where he'll like go on wistful tangents about the way the world is and I'll just be sitting here like "sir this is a chilli's"

And speaking of tangents (I'm on a roll) he'll talk for hours about his interests and I'd listen to him no matter what, do I understand shit about doctor who or escape the night or rwby (or like spg until I decided to get into them because of him) absolutely not, but gosh darn it he's so fucking cute when he talks about this stuff that I don't care I just love him so much.

And like in return he lets me yell about my incoherent SPG highschool aus and Les Amis and how Grantaire realised he loved Enjolras as soon as he died and hadestown and not bat an eye and I am eternally grateful because I love yelling about my interests.

I just love him so much man he's the most wonderful boy I've ever met and I'm so lucky to have him, I wouldn't let him go if you paid me, I'll never really be able to say enough thing just how special he is to me, I cannot express my feelings In The SLIGHTEST but I try really hard because he deserves it!!!! He deserves to know how much I love him!!!!! And I love him so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions Chapter 10: ‘I need a hero’

Synopsis: Harold and Sigma meet the rest of the newly reformed Overwatch and make some friends. Harold and Winston finally reunite and share a tender moment as father and son.

Read it here or find it on AO3. If you like Sigrold, join the Sigrold discord server. I’ll also be participating in #Sigroldweek. 

Once upon a time, Harold got a job offer at Overwatch. Back in its prime, they had been interested in his work on respirocytes. But Lucheng Interstellar gave him a better job, and the position was filled by someone else, though he still kept in contact just in case they still had a job for him when the Lunar Ops program was finished. In another life, he might have found a cushy job as a researcher with Overwatch, traveling the world, perhaps with Winston by his side. In another life, he might have proposed to Siebren, or even married him outright, and Winston will be with them, and the three of them will live together in a comfy home of their own. But life, or perhaps the universe, had other plans.

He doesn’t know why that’s the first thought to filter into his head when he exits the airship and takes in the sprawling Overwatch base. Buildings are carved into the rock, obscuring it from sight. Night time has fallen, making the base look desolate and abandoned, but as Tracer leads them through, he sees the slow trickle of life and habitation. An offering near the cliffside to a deity, leftover Christmas decorations hanging from the rafters, tracks on the gravel made from footsteps and tires.

Tracer is a far more eager guide compared to Satya, even if she often diverts on irrelevant tangents. She talks about the history of the place, her own past in this very base, as well as some humerous anecdotes about the other Overwatch agents. Every now and then she points out buildings that she thinks are important to note. The hangers where everybody’s rooms shall be, the communal kitchen, the washhouse with the ‘nice showers’, and of course Winston’s lab. Whenever she mentions Winston, she makes a point of glancing back to Harold with a knowing little smirk. She’s looking for a reaction. Harold has absolutely no idea if he’s giving the right one or not.

Satya is quiet at the back of the group, keen eyes taking careful notes of every little detail. She speaks up only to clarify on Tracer’s ramblings, confirming directions and instructions for her stay here. Sometime during the flight she’s somewhat accepted that she is now in need of refuge. Whether she wants to be a hero, that’s another thing entirely.

Siebren doesn’t speak at all during the tour. His gaze is up to the moon. Harold can’t help but let his eyes drift up to the celestial body hanging in the sky. The sky is clear and the light pollution is minimal, but the sparkling stars don’t hold a candle to the light of the moon. A wash of confusing emotions bubbles up to the surface as he stares at the lunar surface, gazing upon the lunar craters and moutains, many of which he’d personally explored.

“Do you miss it? The moon?” Siebren asks quietly when Tracer’s not paying attention.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t. It’s always up there, lighting the night sky. A reminder of my mistakes.”

Siebren frowns. “It’s not your fault, what happened. Your colleagues were idiots.”

“Sure. So am I.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Siebren says softly before straightening his posture. “You’re incredibly reckless. Nagging. Inappropriate at the worst of times—”

“—OK, I get it,” Harold laughs.

“—short-sighted, and far too trusting, but you’re not an idiot. Never have been in all the years I’ve known you.”

Harold smiles despite himself. It's an abysmal effort to cheer him up, but Siebren is trying his hardest, and he can't help but appreciate it. “I hope good-looking is on that list.”

Siebren smirks. “Do you really want to know?”

Harold punches Siebren lightly on the shoulder, shaking his head. The events of a few hours past feel so long ago, and Siebren is acting like nothing happened. Knowing how fragile Siebren is now, it should comfort Harold that he’s laughing and talking normally, and yet it doesn’t. There are words left unsaid, stories left untold. Siebren hides it well, but his jaw is set tight and his shoulders are tense. Mentally, he’s in control. Emotionally, that’s harder to say.

Harold waits for Tracer to begin talking before he makes his move. “That was a black hole earlier,” he says.

“Yes,” Siebren utters, looking uncomfortable.

“I heard the noises. The universe’s melody, as you called it.” He pauses before admitting, quieter, “It’s terrifying.”

Siebren grimaces. “I know.”

Harold frowns. “How many lives did you take?”

“Far too many to count,” Siebren says. “I’d rather not kill, but it's a necessary evil in my life now. I cannot have any regrets.”

Harold remembers the lifeless body of Tempest Williams stacked amongst the other guards and feels sick to his stomach. “I’m not like you then.”

“It gets easier over time, the killing. You learn to accept it. Death is inevitable and life can be cut short. Although,” Siebren ducks his head, “I was not necessarily in control when I first took a man’s life. Even now, it's easy to convince myself it's all for the sake of research.”

Harold has suspected this for some time. He isn’t surprised, but it doesn’t comfort him to know that Siebren has lost his mind before and that Talon manipulated him to kill when he was in that fragile state. It explains why all the Talon staff feared Siebren. In his mind’s eye he sees himself in that fateful moment last night when he lost control himself, eyes wild and crazed, his attacks bloodthirsty and savage like an animal. In a way, it’s worse than Siebren, because he doesn’t have an excuse to defend his actions. He let his emotions get the better of him, clouding his vision. He is the one who killed those people. He’s a murderer.

Siebren's hand goes up to his shoulder, rubbing small circles. Harold wants to lean his head onto Siebren’s shoulder and press his lips into his neck and forget about all the atrocities they have just committed, but he knows this is the extent of Siebren’s comfort. Siebren has a point, and he will not back down from it.

“I don’t want to get used to killing,” Harold whispers.

Siebren continues rubbing, his touch light. “I know you don’t. But you will. You’ll have to if you want to survive, and I know you can. You have gotten so far by yourself.”

Harold smiles bittersweetly. “Still, if only I can avoid it.”

“You’re a grown man, Harold. I won’t shield you from the world, but I will support you.” Then, with a smirk, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Harold feels a tap at his hip and sees Siebren’s knuckles grazing the fabric. He smiles softly to himself as his fingers entwine with Siebren’s, squeezing softly as they continue their walk.

Tracer leads them to an unassuming building a few stories high. Lights and noises can be seen from the tinted windows above. Harold holds his breath as Tracer goes through the main doors and blinks within. His eyes shut rapidly as a burst of light fills the large room.

Harold has to admit, of all the things he expected when first arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, a party wasn’t one of them.

The place is a laboratory filled with tools, though they have all been shoved to the side away from view. There’s a long table full of foods and drinks, all with a little piece of paper to tell people what it is, who made it, as well as any allergy warnings. Music is playing from an old-fashioned radio. Many are partnered in twos and threes, conversing pleasantly to one another. Soon as they enter, all the people within turn their heads to them, smiles on their faces. To Harold’s disappointment, he doesn’t see Winston.

“Who are your friends?” A rather tall and muscular man with white hair asks with a teasing tone in his voice.

“New guys here to hang with us for a bit. Got into a bit of a scrap to save them.” Tracer turns towards them and grins. “Should’ve seen us, we were fighting Talon with the best of them.”

“Then they are comrades.” From the table behind, the tall muscular man grabs a jug of beer and lifts it up.

That’s enough to get the small crowd to approach them. In an instant the three of them are surrounded on all sides by friendly faces. Tracer giggles lightly to herself while she raids the buffet table.

The first to greet them is the large, muscular man, flanked on either side by an equally muscular young woman and a bearded dwarf. All three of their eyes glance down to Siebren’s feet, floating a foot off the ground. They don’t seem to be frightened. In fact, they seem more intrigued than anything.

“All sorts of fancy schmancy tech nowadays,” the dwarf scratches his head.

“What’s wrong, old friend? Have you lost your touch?”

“My ‘touch’ can make your armour break faster than a boiling frog in a cauldron!”

“It’s not ‘technology’,” Siebren utters. “I have just harnessed gravity.”

The two old friends look at each other incredulously and shrug. The bigger man is quick to put a hand out. “Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

“Torbjörn Lindholm,” the dwarf says, putting his own hand out.

Siebren stares at the hand for just a second before shaking both firmly. “Sigma,” he says.

“Dr. Siebren de Kuiper,” Harold corrects, turning to Siebren. “Talon used to call him Sigma. But you don’t have to use that name anymore.”

He looks like he’s about to object but Reinhardt has already clasped Siebren on the shoulder. “So they have enslaved you, but you escaped? How dreadful they must be, to strip a man of his identity.” His expression suddenly goes dark. “You were not the first to get pulled into their ranks. We lost one of our own that way.”

Harold almost thinks Siebren might set the record straight but instead he keeps his mouth shut. As if sensing Siebren’s discomfort, the two men launch into a variety of anecdotal stories about each other. Reinhardt was once a knight for the German Crusaders during the Omnic War, while Torbjörn was a member of the Ironclad Guild. He tries to play it off as a cool secret society, but Reinhardt clarifies that it was just a very ostentatious name for a group of ragtag engineers. The two had been best friends for a very long time, to the point that Reinhardt was given the honour of naming Torbjörn’s first child. At this, Brigitte, who reveals her identity as the eldest daughter, begins to pick holes at her father and godfather’s stories, correcting them on the more fantastical elements.

Harold watches as Siebren falls securely into conversation. He mentions his own work as an astrophysicist, his early life growing up and working in Den Haag and the very briefest account of the ISS accident that gave him his gravitic powers. He does not talk about his mental health or what he did in Talon, which is probably for the best. It will inevitably sour the party mood. Siebren joins in on the light teasing shared between the family, making fast friends with Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Brigitte. It’s the first time he’s looked at ease since their escape, Harold notices. After today’s events, he never thought he’d see that smile again. He’s glad he’s been proven wrong.

“You are a man of strong caliber, are you not?” Reinhardt asks Siebren.

“I should think so,” Siebren utters.

“Oh no,” Brigitte sighs.

“Then why not a friendly little challenge between friends? Brigitte, bring us some beer.”

“Not a drinking contest, Reinhardt.”

“It’s hard enough lugging you around, you big oaf, but I ain’t lugging the two of you,” Torbjörn mutters.

“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt smirks at Siebren. “You chicken?”

Harold silently groans as Siebren stiffens visibly. With the markings of a man who very much doesn’t like it when someone attacks his inflated ego, Siebren stretches his hand out and the two men shake.

“This is not going to end well, is it?” Brigitte murmurs under her breath.

“Nope,” Harold sighs. He knows from many a post-conference pub crawl that Siebren, despite his size, is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Harold is a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but he never liked the taste of alcohol enough to drink outside of special occasions. Certainly not enough to know how many drinks is his limit.

While everybody gets a table cleared for the drinking contest, Harold walks over to the buffet table and grabs a small plate. He fills it up with as much food as the small paper plate can hold. He’s got spring rolls and samosas and moon pies that look suspiciously similar to the ones he made back on Horizon, and is pleasantly surprised to find out that Winston made them himself. Food in hand, he finds a corner of the room and munches quietly, watching the small crowd. Tracer’s having a dance party with a shorter, tan man on rollerskates near the radio. On the second floor, near the staircase, Satya is watching the man with narrowed eyes. The look in her eyes is knowing and distrustful, and Harold thinks he sees the same look in the man’s eyes whenever their stares connect, but they don’t say a word to each other. A few minutes later, Brigitte breaks away from her father to chat with Satya. She hides it well, but Harold can see the relief flood Satya’s body.

It’s an organization, but it feels more than that, Harold thinks. These people from different walks of life move and talk to one another like they’re friends. Suddenly Winston’s comment that Overwatch is his family makes a lot more sense. They have all bonded over disaster and war, and those bonds are stronger than gravity.

Harold can only hope this family will accept him.

From the corner of his eye he spies a Chinese woman with glasses approach him. She looks familiar, but where from he cannot place. In her hand is a plate full of Chinese dumplings.

“You do look like the photos, Dr. Winston,” she comments.

“I’m sorry?”

“Winston, my friend. N-not you, Dr. Winston,” she stumbles. “He’s got a photo of him with you. The two of you are so cute!” Seeing his confusion, she smiles shyly. “Sorry. You may not know me. I’m Mei-ling Zhou, but you can call me Mei.”

“Oh, I remember. You were in the same team as Dr. Adams. Part of Overwatch’s Ecopoint project, right?”

Mei frowns deeply, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Harold knows that look. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

She nods quietly. “We got into a blizzard in Antarctica. The cryostasis machine malfunctioned for everybody except myself.”

Harold cannot help but grimace. He’s missed a lot about the world, it seems. He’d worked together with Julian Adams, right before he got the job with Lucheng Interstellar, a long while before he will meet Siebren. Silently, he gives a soft prayer for Adams and his family, wherever they may be.

Harold takes his time to stare at the crowd and the unfamiliar surroundings. After a few seconds, he says, “I don’t see Winston.”

“He’s a bit nervous about meeting you, so he left. I’m not sure why though, this party is to celebrate him and all he’s done for us.” She points at Tracer, who’s taken a break from dancing to commentate on the drinking contest. As Harold suspects, Siebren is losing badly. “Lena got into a really bad accident. She was like a literal ghost, all see-through, disappearing for months and then reappearing. ‘Chronally displaced’, they called it. But Winston made a device so she can be with us here in the present, and now she can zip through time. She’s so cool!”

So Winston’s an Overwatch agent and an inventor, Harold thinks. Another surge of pride fills his lungs. “I assume you know him through Overwatch?”

“No, we only met recently, but he is very lovely and very kind.” She giggles behind her hand. “You raised him well.”

Harold chuckles as he rubs the back of his head. “I suppose I did.”

"He misses you. Every time I see him, he’s always looking at a photo of you.” She gives a shy smile and adds, “He hasn’t said much, but I think he’s glad you’re safe.”

Harold stares at his surroundings, warm but unfamiliar, a fusion of the past and present and future. Winston’s stories make up the particles of these stony cliffs and worn workbenches Harold’s missed so many of them. He wants to learn them, one by one. He wants to make up for lost time. “You don’t…happen to know where he is?”

Mei just smiles and points at the main hangar doors. “Check the cliffs outside. He likes sitting there to think.”

Harold gives her a friendly goodbye, locates Siebren (who fortunately did not partake in Reinhardt’s challenge and is still sober) and together they head away from the party.

It’s hard to find out what Mei meant by the cliffs, because most of the area outside the HQ is made of steep cliffs. The cool evening wind whips at them, a stark contrast to the warm levity of the party. Harold's worried he might have to rely on the nanobots to see in the darkness, but the moon shines brightly above their heads, lighting the way.

They make their way down the stone steps and follow the path between the buildings. It’s there that they find Winston, sitting at the edge of the cliff between two smaller buildings, gazing forlornly at something in his hands. Harold pauses in his steps, his breath catching in his throat as he watches Winston’s silent form. Winston is here, looking exactly the same as he remembered, only more mature. The white bodysuit hides most of his fur,

He turns to Siebren, who only stares at him. Siebren offers his hand to Harold and he squeezes it lightly before finally approaching Winston. Harold sits beside him, not saying a word. Winston doesn’t appear to react, but Harold can feel those sunflower irises scan him, looking for any sign that he is an imposter or a ghost or a figment of his imagination. Something to prove he's not real.

Harold glances at the photo and recognizes it almost immediately. It’s one that Winston took when he was a child, the first one he ever took, albeit by accident. Harold was working in the lab with Hammond when Winston took the picture. Seeing his younger self smiling politely into the camera, seeing baby Winston play eagerly with his glasses, it sends a familiar ache of affection to his chest.

“Where’d you get that photo?” Harold whispers.

“The camera,” Winston replies, just as quiet. “I grabbed as many spare pictures I could find, and then I downloaded the rest from the camera before I came to Earth.” He smiles bittersweetly at the photo. “I was so young.”

“We both were.”

Winston blows air out of his large nostrils. “You were in your forties.”

“I’m still young, I was just even younger back then.”

Slowly, he grabs one end of the photo and pulls it towards him. He can feel Winston’s fur on his arm beneath the white bodysuit and the body heat radiating. For a second, Winston stiffens, and Harold worries if perhaps he’s gone too fast, but then there’s an arm wrapping around his back. He turns to see Winston’s eyes, as wide and beautiful as the moon in the sky.

“I miss you,” Harold admits. “Sorry I haven’t been here for you all these years.”

Winston shakes his head softly. “It’s fine. I had family to take care of me when you were gone.”

“Overwatch, huh?”

“Yeah,” Winston chuckles quietly for a few seconds. He stares at the photo and smiles. “I guess I’m lucky then,” Winston says, finally gazing upon Harold. “I’ve got two families now.”

Harold’s vision begins to blur and he realizes that tears are forming in his eyes. He huffs as he wipes them away with his arm, which he has only just realized is still red from when he was strapped to the bed. He’s not sure if it’s the sea wind or the new setting or the moon above his head, but Oasis already feels like a lifetime away. Winston’s gazing upon him with unspoken affection.

Before he can say anything, the air shifts as Siebren floats over.

Harold patted the ground next to him. “Join us,” he says.

“I shouldn’t,” Siebren starts, but Harold is already standing up and dragging him to the cliff edge. With a roll of his eyes and a smirk of his lips, Siebren waves his hand. Rocks from the cliff roll up and stack together to create a reclining chair for Siebren to lie down on.

“And you thought me seeing in the dark was special.”

“Off-target effects,” Siebren says in an annoyingly inaccurate representation of Harold’s voice.

Winston’s gaze lingers between the two older men, a soft look of understanding falling on his face. He chuckles deeply. “You two haven’t changed.”

Harold shares a look with Siebren. “We haven’t, have we?”

Siebren smiles bashfully but earnestly. “Speak for yourself.”

The three of them sit there and watch the stars as they glitter in the ebony expanse of space. They’re content to admire for afar, but old habits die hard, and soon Harold’s talking about the stories behind the constellations. Siebren joins in about the more scientific fact about star systems while Winston discusses the planets in great detail. For one brief moment, they’re just enjoying the present together, without fear or worry about the past or the present. They’re a family, reunited at last.

Harold doesn’t hear Siebren slip away, leaving him alone with Winston. His eyes are glued to the moon, pale and beautiful despite all the tragedy that bathes its surface. He wonders briefly if Chang’e, the goddess of the moon, saw the rebellion. Who would she mourn more? The humans who lost their lives, or the gorillas who endured so much suffering?

“You’re together with Dr. de Kuiper, right?” Winston asks suddenly.

Harold blushes despite himself. “Despite the universe being hellbent on keeping me buried in the ground? Yes.”

“But you were gone for a decade. Everybody thought you were dead. How did you find each other again?”

“Siebren found me. Or rather, Talon found me. I was called a lot of things while I was stuck on the moon. Jade Rabbit, Specimen: 31, a whole bunch of expletives, you name it.” He stares at the rushing waves far beneath his feet. “I joined Talon partly because Siebren was in their ranks, and partly because I didn’t know better. I think it’s the same with Siebren, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“After all this time, you still loved each other?”

“I’m not sure if we still loved each other. I think we were relieved to have a familiar face at first. But then we fell into old habits.” Harold recalls the first fleeting kiss he pressed onto Siebren’s face after Tempest’s first attack and smiles. “Guess it’s more accurate to say an old flame got rekindled.”

Winston nods thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. Sounds similar to how I feel right now.”

Harold turns to Winston and frowns. “How do you feel about me being here?”

“I don’t know,” Winston admits. “A bit nervous, I suppose.”

“Nervous? About what?”

“About how I feel about our relationship. About the moon, and the others back on Horizon…and you.”

The waves beat against the rocky face of the cliff, reflecting the light of the night sky. Harold wonders right then and there what will happen if he jumps. From this height, the impact would normally kill him, but he’s not a normal man anymore. Will the nanobots protect him, or will it all be futile? Will Winston and Siebren cry over him if he dies for real this time?

Winston turns his head sharply away in embarrassment. “S-sorry. D-don’t take it the wrong way, I am happy that you’re here and that you’re alive. Heh. I’m…really glad you’re alive, actually, but…um…”

“It’s fine, champ. The past is the past. We choose whether or not we look back upon it for guidance.” Harold braves a small smile. “Whatever you want me to be, I’ll always be here to support you.”

Winston smiles bashfully to himself. He takes the glasses off his face and stares at them for a few seconds. Harold just looks at the frames, an identical copy to his previous pair, caressed in Winston’s gorilla hands like they’re the most precious thing in the world. He turns to Harold, smiles enigmatically, then slips them back on.

His words are quiet against the thundering waves and the howling winds, but to Harold, they’re crystal clear and perfect pitch.

“I really did miss you,” Winston whispers.

Harold wraps his arm around Winston’s shoulder and squeezes tightly. “So did I, buddy. So did I."

They stare at the ocean until they’re shivering from the cold. They stand up and walk together back to the party, side by side. There’s still nervous smiles shared, still a bit of fragile hesitation, but it feels like the walls between them have crumbled. They’ve become just a bit closer. He doesn’t even realise that his arm is still around Winston’s shoulder until he gets back to the party.

The light atmosphere is gone. The music has long stopped and there is no chatter or banter. Everyone’s attention is drawn up to a hologram, their faces unreadable. Harold stares at the hologram, where a news presenter, Olympia Shaw, stands in front of a very familiar building.

“We’re just outside Lucheng Interstellar’s headquarters here in Lijiang, where they have just made the announcement that Dr. Harold Winston is still up on Horizon One.”

At a press conference, the new director of Lucheng Interstellar stands amidst a small crowd of reporters. Harold doesn’t recognize the man, even when his name pops up. He smiles professionally into the camera.

“It’s absolutely gut-wrenching to lose one of our own, but now we have the chance to bring one of our scientists back home. If we are able to rescue Dr. Winston, not only will we know more about the tragic accident that cut communications with the lunar base, but we will also gain valuable data on human colonization in space. We might learn more about how humans will be able to adapt to live on Mars.”

Olympia Shaw shows the formal picture of Harold taken from his badge on the screen as she discusses Harold’s research and role on Horizon, as well as giving a vague generalization of the rebellion. It’s weird to hear someone talk about him like this, like he’s a celebrity of the utmost importance.

Tempest’s picture pops up briefly as the director discusses her ‘untimely’ death. The news claims it’s a sudden heart attack. Harold knows better.

The footage cuts back to the conference with the director, flanked on both sides by his investors. “We will be launching a shuttle as soon as possible. Our primary goal is to bring Dr. Winston back down to Earth safely and rehabilitate him if needed.”

He says more, but no one is concentrating on his words anymore. They’re all staring at the people flanked by his side. Moira and Sanjay stand a fair bit away from him, both dressed in sharp suits. He feels eyes latch onto his body, one by one. Suddenly his throat feels dry.

“Why are they saying you’re still on Horizon?” Tracer asks.

“My tracker should be on my old lab coat there, but that can’t be it. Dr. O’Deorain and Sanjay Korpal know I’m alive.”

Winston frowns gravely. “What are they planning?”

“The research,” Siebren utters, his expression dark. “Mr. Korpal was talking about Dr. Winston’s work with interest. The nanobots he has created can give a man temporary invulnerability. Talon hopes to use it to create the ultimate living weapon, an invincible machine of death.”

“We know Talon has already mastered mind control techniques, and if Dr. O’Deorain really is a member of Talon as our intel suggests, who knows what technology they have?” Winston shakes his head. “If it’s just technology and research they want, it still doesn’t explain why they’re saying he’s in space when he’s right here.”

“It’s blackmail,” Harold says grimly. He feels the eyes on his body once again but he tries to shake the feeling away. “They have part of my research, but not all of it. I’ve only wrote about improvements, not the actual design itself. And the original design is stored on Horizon’s computers. If they get their hands on it, combined with my notes, they can recreate it. Get the invincible soldiers they’ve always wanted.”

“It’s an excuse to go back up there,” Winston gasps. “If this means what I think it means, we have to stop them.”

“How?” Harold asks.

Winston smirks as he adjusts his glasses. “You just leave that to us.”

All around Harold, the Overwatch members rally together, faces bright and fierce in determination. They’ve huddled around Winston, looking up to him as their leader, but more than that they are united by a single cause. That’s the thing that unites these disparate people and personalities together, Harold realises. They all want to do good by the world. They are all heroes.

It’s always been Harold’s dream to change the world for the better, but so far he’s just sent it hurling faster into chaos and destruction. But with these people, this new Overwatch, maybe he finally has an opportunity to make amends. Maybe this is why he is here. To right his wrongs. To make a difference.

To be a hero.

He clasps Winston tightly on the shoulder. He closes his eyes for a second to compose himself, and when he opens them, he’s sure there’s fire and gold in his gaze. His voice is unwavering and strong. “Never accept the world as it appears to be. Dare to see it for what it could be.”

Winston’s eyes glitter. Small gasps escape from a few of the others around them. “Does that mean…? Are you…?”

Harold smiles. “I’m helping you out, hero. Wherever, however I can.”

[godaime-obito]

Kagatobi Modern Ageswap Ch 4

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

there will be a sort of fifth chapter, but im planning for some nsfw in it, so consider it a bonus chapter

Tobirama has reorganized his books, notes, papers and various writing utensils four times now. Kagami is coming over in less than ten minutes to help him study for his bar exam, and in preparation he had to move his entire set up out of his bedroom to the more appropriate location that is the living room. It would not do to take his guest straight to his bedroom his first time over. That can come later, not that he’s been considering such things. He reorders his highlighters one last time before going to the kitchen to start making tea. It’s important to be properly hospitable for guests who are actually invited.

The tea is still seeping when Tobirama hears a knock. Isn’t nice when people knock instead of just picking the lock, even though Kagami probably could if he wanted. Wait. Is intelligent-people-who-know-how-to-lock-pick a type? Do he and Hashirama share a type? God, he doesn’t want to think about that. Putting that horrifying tangent from his mind he walks briskly to answer the door.

Tobirama pulls open the door, and steps to the side to let Kagami slip past him. “Hello. Would you like tea?” he asks.

“That would be nice,” Kagami answers, slipping past to sit his satchel near the work space Tobirama set up. He must have come straight from his office at the university if he still has that satchel. It’s where he keeps the papers he’s grading and such.

“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you,” he calls from the kitchen, “I’m sure you’re busy at the university right now.” Tobirama gathers the tea onto a tray and quickly heads back out. It’s best not to waste any time, especially if he’s holding him up.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it was. I’m not too busy for a friend,” Kagami chuckles back.

“Of course,” Tobirama agrees. He’s mostly placated, but he is still a little concerned Kagami is just too nice to turn down helping him. Tobirama reassures himself that he’s been a professor for a long time, and can manage his time well enough to know when he can afford an evening away from his office. He puts the tray down on the coffee table feeling more confident, and sits down where he arranged his things. Kagami slides closer to him on the couch as he reaches for his tea, and their thighs press lightly together. Which is only a minor distraction really, so he doesn’t pull away. Neither does Kagami.

The additional insight does prove helpful during the study session, both from tips gained from experience or just the aid of an outside perspective, and Tobirama is glad he took him up on his offer to study together. Maybe he’ll give Hashirama a key after all, since his visit had some positive impact. Not that he’ll admit that even if he gives him a key. It wouldn’t do to encourage him.

“Thank you Kagami,” he says, and stands up from his spot on the couch. “You were very helpful.”

His friend smiles up at him, and stands as well, gathering up his satchel. “No problem! Feeling ready to go take that exam right now?” he teases.

“Perhaps not right now,” Tobirama replies, smiling slightly. “I am rather confident I’ll be ready when the exam time actually arrives,” he assures.

The end of the time the agreed to meet is over, and he’s sure Kagami has other things to do, but he is, perhaps, not eager to see him leave. The two of them move towards the door together. In front of it he stops, and lingers.

“I believe my family will be meeting the weekend after the exam. To celebrate. You should come,” Tobirama states. He meant for that to be more of a question.

“I mean, do you want to come?” That’s better.

“Of course! Just tell me the time and place and I’m sure I can make it,” Kagami answers, giggling at Tobirama’s slightly subpar communication skills. He would be more upset at being laughed at if it weren’t such a nice laugh.

“I’ll text you as soon as it’s decided,” he says, and finally stops his stalling to open the door.

Kagami slips passed him. He brushes against his arm as he goes, before stopping and turning to face him in the doorway.

“I hate to go already, when it feels like I just got here, but I’ll see you soon. I hope,” Kagami says softly.

“I hope so too,” Tobirama replies equally soft. Pulling together his nerve, he firmly corrects himself, “I know we’ll see each other soon.”

Then, quickly as to not run out of nerve, he presses their lips together. It’s firm, but chaste. He can feel the tips of his ears go red as they pull apart. Kagami smiles at him, broader than any of his earlier smiles, as they look at each other, and it makes Tobirama smile too.

“Just to be certain,” he says, “we are dating now right?”

Kagami snorts at him. “Yes.”

He leaves then, heading down the hall. Before Kagami turns the corner out of sight, he looks back at him and winks. Tobirama’s blush renews, but he’s too happy to have confirmed the study date as an actual date to mind.

It will take about six weeks to find out if he actually passed the bar exam, but only two days later the celebration his family planned has already arrived. Perhaps they think having his first try over with is worth celebrating even if they don’t know if he’ll have to try again. Perhaps they’re just that confident in him. Most likely it’s mix of the two. They’ve made reservations at a restaurant for seven. It will be himself, his brothers, Mito, Touka, and Kagami, which considering how involved Hashirama was in the planning is a tiny number. He should probably thank Mito and Touka for keeping him from inviting their estranged parents, or Izuna, or Madara. He cannot stand him, no matter how many ‘bonding sessions’ they’re tricked into.

“Tobirama!” He knows that voice. Why are Hashirama’s only settings yelling, and dramatic whispering? Tobirama knows he must speak normally to Mito at least. Does he do this just to irritate him? He’s having second thoughts about giving him the key.

“Hello Hashirama,” he sighs out. He is then promptly manhandled into the restaurant where he and Mito listen to his brother yell as the others arrive. He’s not sure what exactly he’s talking about, but he has been counting every time he says ‘Madara’ which is up to eight already. Perhaps he should start kicking Hashirama whenever he mentions him more than 5 times in an hour.

Kagami shows up last, and slides into the open seat at his left. Hashirama is sitting at Tobirama’s right, and reaches right across his personal space to shake his hand and gives his usual overenthusiastic greeting.

“Hello Professor,” Mito says. She’s smirking. Tobirama is about to need a distraction, isn’t he?

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she continues, “I’ve heard you are the cooooolest professor.”

Kagami grins at him, wiggling his eyebrows. “Is that so?” he coos.

“This is Mito,” Tobirama says, ignoring his question. “My wonderful, kind, sister-in-law.” No sarcasm there, no ma’am. “That’s my cousin Touka, my brother Itama, and my brother Kawarama,” he continues, nodding to each of them.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Kagami says, switching back to a more serious expression. Although not that serious, it is Kagami after all.

The dinner goes surprisingly well, and he seems to get along with Tobirama’s family, even if their main bonding activity seems to be try-to-make-Tobirama-blush. How does Kagami remember so many things he did as an undergrad, surely, he wasn’t that memorable? At least Mito doesn’t bring up that one thing that happened his junior year as an undergrad. If Kagami found out Tobirama would be too embarrassed to look him in the eye for a decade at least.

He’s been waiting to tell anyone that he and Kagami are dating until today, so that he could say it to them all at once, in person. However, he’s been putting it off all night. Hashirama is going to cry on him, but it must be done eventually. Tobirama waits until the bill has come and they’ve decided who’s paying for how much, before finally deciding it cannot be put off any longer.

He clears his throat, to catch everyone’s attention. “Kagami and I are dating,” he announces as soon as it’s the table is quiet. There. Nice and to the point.

Hashirama appears to be momentarily stunned.

“I had sex with Izuna at Hashirama’s 25th birthday party,” Touka says.

“What?” Hashirama says faintly.

“I assumed we were announcing things everybody in the family already knows,” she says in her best faux innocent voice.

“I didn’t know either of those things,” he responds. Loudly. His faintness has already swung around to dramatic tears. “My birthday party!” he cries.

“Forget about the party darling. That was years ago,” Mito cuts in, “What about Tobi’s boyfriend?” Tobirama is not sure if he appreciates her getting him back on track.

Hashirama’s head snaps towards him so fast he’s surprised it didn’t break. “Brother,” he shouts. He throws himself sideways at Tobirama, crushing him in a hug. “Your heart’s unfrozen,” he sobs.

“It was never frozen to begin with.”

“You’ve discovered love,” Hashirama continues without pause, ignoring Tobirama’s attempt to interrupt. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Be happy for me without getting me wet, and crushing my ribs!” Tobirama responds. “Stop crying all over me and let go,” he hisses quietly, “You are making a scene in public.”

“Sorry,” Hashirama says, sniffling as he switches into dramatic whispering mode. Kagami is giggling, and Tobirama really wishes he could be angry at that laugh.

“We shouldn’t all linger,” Tobirama says. The bill had been successfully paid during the commotion, thank you Itama. “We’ve got to go,” he adds, heading towards the exit with Kagami. He may be running away. At this point he must admit ‘running from social situations’ is his main character flaw. He will definately hear about this from Itama and Kawarama later, in a traditional younger sibling fashion, and he’ll have to mail Hashirama the key. Oh well.

[tobiboonethesmallspoone]

Odin’s a Bad Father

I . . . I had to defend ODIN as a father to someone because I MENTIONED him giving Loki a chance as an infant in a FrostMaster fanfiction . . . I’m gonna have a tangent.

Okay, we get it, yes, thank you, Odin was a TERRIBLE dad. Back up for a second and let’s talk about it, alright? There’s a lot more here then just ‘Odin’s a bad dad because our favorite character was mistreated’, WAY more. And being that I’m an outspoken little prick, I want to talk about it.

1. Odin Lied to Loki: Well . . . yes and no, considering the political climate when Odin found Loki (i.e. the massive Jotunhiem/Asgard conflict that raged for years AND that Odin’s own father died during), he probably thought it best on both sides that he keep Loki’s origin and identity a secret. Asgardians HATED Jotuns/Frost Giants and they weren’t quiet about that hate so while it was risky to allow Loki to retain an Asgardian disguise, it would have been incredibly more so if he brought a tiny Jotun prince back with him (and think about how Asgardians would have handled the heir-apparent to their enemies being within their reach? We already know that not all Asgardians are perfect angels sprinkled in honor and righteousness). Also, I don’t remember Odin ever saying he hated Jotuns or instructing Loki and Thor to do so, he told them of the history of the conflict and that he won the war and they were at peace. Thor was the one stirring up trouble, not Odin so . . . 

2. Odin mistreated Loki: How? Odin could have kept Loki as his prisoner or as a trophy of war, he could have used him as a bargaining chip, he could have kept him in a dungeon for his entire life, he could have done a million atrocities but what did he do instead? He adopted Loki, made him a prince of Asgard, and kept his true identity a secret to keep him safe. Is lying to your kid harmful? Yeah, even the myths of SANTA CLAUS and the EASTER BUNNY is considered a bad thing to some people. And I’m not sure how detrimental being told ‘you’re adopted’ is to someone who was adopted as an infant/a child considering I am not a child who was adopted nor am I a psychologist nor do I have ANY knowledge of that, but I do think Odin thought he was doing what was best at the time without knowing how everything would play out, which is kind of the gamble parents make with some things.

3. Odin said Loki should have died as an infant: Uh, yeah? Loki was abandoned to die by his own father, if Odin (or anyone else who would have taken pity on him) hadn’t been there, Loki would have died. As an infant. Perhaps the connotation feels different when said different ways but he isn’t wrong, harsh wording aside. I’m not sure what else i should say on that point given that Odin is telling a hard truth and nothing more. I do, however, think what he meant when he said that was something like ‘I did all of this for you and this is how you repay me?’, which is more of an incredulous response than a ‘I wish I’d left you to die’ type of thing. Odin is shocked by what Loki has done, of his children (all three) Loki was not the one he thought he’d have trouble with, Loki was quieter and better mannered than Thor (I cannot speak for Hela since we don’t get much of how she was in her off-time in Ragnarok), he was a studious person while Thor (and Hela) was combative and boisterous, so shock of shocks for Odin to find his youngest son causing all the problems while his headstrong elder son is the one joining a superhero group and saving Midgard, more than once.

4. Odin put Loki in prison: Yeah, instead of banishing him or executing him, remember all the shit Loki did? Think he got off pretty easy just being put in a cell, and if you look at the cell he was in it was a lot better furnished than the others and he didn’t have to share it with other criminals and he could just sit and read (which he used to do anyway), so it wasn’t so much a punishment as I think Odin wanted it to be and even his one point of separating Loki and Frigga didn’t work since she went behind his back to visit her baby boy. Anyone remember how Odin banished Thor to a realm Thor had never been to with no friends or anyone he knew, no money, nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat and without his one weapon? All he did was pick fights with another realm (understatement of course), Loki broke a whole lot more and he got a timeout. Maybe I’m splitting hairs or I’m missing something or the symbolism of the punishments are lost on me but . . . I dunno, if Thor was everyone’s favorite you’d think he’d get away with being a petulant child more. Also, Odin didn’t want Loki on Earth where he had no control over how Loki was treated, they could have and probably would have done really not good things to him whereas in Asgard, Odin has all the cards.

5. A point I would like to make because no one else seems to say it: No one gonna mention Frigga so I have to be the bad guy, huh? Okay, fine, Frigga lied to Loki and ‘mistreated’ Loki as much as Odin. Oh, sure she did it in a softer fashion, but a lie is still a lie, you can’t just sit back and pretend she didn’t have a hand in all this! She taught him magic, she knew how to change his appearance (don’t tell me she didn’t because no) and she could have told him but she didn’t. I love Frigga, I really do, between the two losing Frigga was way more heartbreaking than losing Odin a million times would have been, but stop demonizing Odin because he’s the more obvious target. 

6. Last point I want to make because I can: Odin loved Loki. Had a hard time showing it maybe, said or did things that might not have conveyed that, fucked up a few times with his decisions, but he loved him. He said as much and Loki eventually began to accept that love too (or did y’all just gloss over that Loki put Odin in a Home on Midgard in Ragnarok instead of just killing him as everyone suspected he did at the end of Dark World?). Clearly their relationship is distant and strained, there’s loads of baggage and things left unsaid and scar tissue, but there is something there, a quiet, tentative something but we can’t pretend it isn’t there.

Did I talk enough? Can I go now? I mean, Jesus, Odin is my least favorite character too but come on! Squealing at me that ‘nuh-uh, he was bad because my favorite character wasn’t treated like a perfect angel’ is a pathetic, childish argument. Loki is not perfect, yes he has suffered a great deal (get away from me Russo brothers) and yes he has mudddled through it mostly alone, but HE ISN’T PERFECT and neither is Frigga, or Thor, or Odin! I can’t believe that I’m defending Odin of all people on TUMBLR where Loki is pretty much a patron deity and everyone’s husband, but I’m miffed! Miffed that everyone else’s redemption arc counted except Odin’s, everyone else gets to fuck up over and over and be better for it and be a hero but Odin is still shit to everyone. And yeah, you’re allowed to hate him, he’s a fictional character set up as a force to rebel against in the eyes of his children, they all eventually try to push against his authority and control as king and father, but can’t we all agree that a flawed character isn’t a villain by default?