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archiveofourown.org/works/51242092/chapters/129477979 Hello I am here with my humble offering. A person-enters-fantasy retelling of BG3. Think Oz, think Lost in Austen, Alice in Wonderland, but this is a fully realized adult entering Faerun. Trauma meets trauma. Humor to cope with trauma meets nitty gritty. I don't know. In Act 3 I'm gonna make the upper city be a thing and fighting Cazador will be prefaced by a masquerade ball. Loviatar's love and Volo's lobotomy! Hurt/comfort. Who knows what's in store in this, my self indulgent Isekai carnival ride!
#BG3#baulders gate 3#Astarion#baulders gate astarion#fanfiction#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 durge#durge#You know what I tried spreading word of Damn Your Kiss on tumblr when I first wrote that too#and trying to promote that was a dumpster fire#I'm lucky the fandom loved it anyway#so I really don't know why I'm self promoting this BG3 trainwreck here now#Um. Kudos and comments and bookmarks fuel my will to improve?#I wish I was better at illustration than writing#OR comment on this if you'd rather I'd write a readerxAstarion hanahaki story#I'm not sure I can do that either but at this point I'm willing to try
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For whatever reason, I found myself thinking about the theme of heritage/inheritance in Harry Potter and how it's, like, catastrophically broken in the text.
The villains in Harry Potter are almost unanimously racist and classist - they believe they are entitled to behave however they wish and live at the top of the social hierarchy because they were born to rich, pureblooded families, and anyone who wasn't is filth to be exploited and/or purged. That's the philosophy of evil in the book - "I deserve everything because I was born in the right family with the right genes and the right social standing. My heritage makes me better than you."
All the injustice and evil in the books is rooted in this belief in entitlement by way of heritage. People are abused and die because of it. Inherited wealth and status, and more specifically the unfair priveleges it affords, is the root of evil in Harry Potter.
So you'd think the protagonist would present some sort of strong contrast to it, right? That they'd be born poor, or mixed race, etc. But no, Harry is from a rich pureblood family, with the vast wealth and social status that affords.
Well, that's OK, we can still make a contrast. Maybe Harry differs in how he acts with wealth - perhaps, realizing his inheritance is an unfair privilege, he gives it away? Maybe he works to give the underprivileged their due? Again, no, not really. He sometimes buys stuff for his poor friend Ron, and defends his "mudblood" friend Hermione from racist criticism, but he sees no reason to change the system that dehumanizes them in the first place, and by the end of the tale is pleased to exploit his privilege for his own gain.
The whole house elf subplot illustrates this failing well - we have a race of slaves who are frequently shown to suffer from abuse. One of them, the property of a rich racist, risks his life to save Harry, and Harry frees him in return. Oh, nice, finally fighting the system, eh? Except no, not really - while Harry frees that specific slave, he's content to leave the others in bondage, especially when he inherits a slave of his own.
The contrast Harry Potter puts up against its rich, racist, privileged villains is "Hey, being rich and higher in the hierarchy is awesome and just, but you can't be a dick about it." That slaves belong in the dirt, but masters should be polite while putting them in their place.
Voldemort posits himself as the heir of Slytherin - claiming his inheritance is vital to his rise to power and villainy. And Harry opposes him by... also claiming inheritance from a rich old dead guy. Hell, the final battle comes down to who rightfully inherits a specific rare Wand!
The fact that Harry and Voldemort have shit in common is not a flaw on its own - villains and heroes are often foils for each other. But in this specific tale, the relationship the villain has with inherited power is so central to the conflict that the hero having the exact same relationship is a major failing. The story is just shy of saying "Voldemort was basically right, but he shouldn't have been rude about it." It's bad from both a moral and a writing skill perspective.
(The only inheritance Harry fully rejects is parseltongue, i.e. the ability to talk to snakes, which was accidentally given to him by Voldemort, and could be argued to be a symbol of trauma rather than inherited wealth. Also I'm still salty about how that series turned on snakes so cruelly, but that's a whole other rant.)
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✧ — PICTURE PERFECT
~ VON LYCAON X GENDER NEUTRAL ARTIST! READER.
SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.
- cw/tw: none.
- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.
Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work.
You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.
Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.
Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?
—
"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.
"Just give them a call. Trust me."
—
And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected.
You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one.
Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means.
Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.
Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.
And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.
To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.
As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.
—
"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.
—
Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.
"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.
But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.
Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.
But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.
Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.
You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.
"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"
You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.
After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.
—
Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.
You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.
"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.
"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.
Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.
"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.
You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.
After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.
Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.
"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."
The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.
"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.
There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.
"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."
#N-Writes#zenless zone zero#zzz#zzzero#zenless zone zero x reader#zzz x reader#von lycaon#zzz lycaon#von lycaon x reader#lycaon x reader#zenless zone zero lycaon
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badges of honor
simon 'ghost' riley x reader
genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)
warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, protective!ghost
synopsis: ghost doesn't understand the appeal of receiving stickers, a tangible reward, after the completion of successful missions. never thought it was necessary for his efforts. however, his mindset changes when he finds out you're the one handing them out–
a.n. just a silly lil blurb that floated around in my mind for some time! decided I'd write it and I'm thinking about writing something similar for könig too! hope you're all well! and if you wish to show more support here's my kofi! <3
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holding onto the belief that ghost would stubbornly swallow his pride and allow you to decorate him in cutesy unnecessary stickers.
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it starts with price’s recommendation of implementing a routine of handing out stickers after successful missions. he insists it’s a great way to dial into intrinsic motivation. to keep the task force motivated to dedicate their best into every operation. a way to recognize positive behavior. a byproduct of hoping for the most favorable outcome in war where the only images are bloodshed, conflict, and hostility. it’s a stark difference. “who knows,” price’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug as he addresses the fierce group settled around him, “it might just help you lads.” it’s a harmless and cost-efficient idea to justify the boxes of tangible reinforcements that are shipped to the base. literal cartons of sticker books that range from the traditional ‘great work!’ to ‘prized soldier!’ and the notion seems childish (disguised to be more of a scheme, in all honesty). that is, until the pieces of sticky, illustrated adhesives start working– boosting the soldiers’ determination for the taste of victory– because you’re the one handing out the affordable versions of chest candy. they adore saccharine treats. and over time, so does ghost.
ghost who initially loathes the new process that price endorses. he’s good at his job. knows he’s an expert in clandestine tradecraft. doesn’t need a miniature label tapped on his chest to recognize that no one does a better service in infiltrations or sabotages in risky environments than he does. he’s in and out like a gust of wind. well, more similar to a grim reaper that takes and punishes whoever he deems fit. a brutish force not to be reckoned with. and he reasons that this little sticker ceremony ultimately wastes time. precious alone time that ghost exploits to catch up on some well-deserved rest or exercise. because training after an intense mission totally makes sense to the lieutenant. yet, he’ll doggedly line up with the rest of the task force and await getting crowned with the bane of his existence. doesn’t wish to stir the pot with price and sit through being lectured. so he stays. and he’s a bit taken aback when he catches a glimpse of you handing out the stickers; a beaming smile on your lips while you press an overly exaggerated thumbs-up design onto the front of a soldier’s vest.
ghost who rasps, “I’ll pass,” before your fingers can pin the sticker onto him. unaware that his voice would come out grainy from the weeklong mission and, involuntarily, blunt. brash. the complete opposite of how he wished to sound towards you. notices the surprise in your eyes due to the acidity of his voice and how you instinctively shrink from him. he shifts, straight away, and hastily tries to take back his tone of voice. to right his wrongs. to atone for his mistake. however, your nervous movement is swiftly replaced with your usual upbeat nature as you plaster on a grin and dramatically bring the back of your hand to your forehead to mimic a fall, “woe is me.” you exhale pointedly while mentioning, “whatever shall I do with all these stickers then?” and ghost understands that it’s so typical of you to hide your hurt with witticism. you’re too considerate. too bright. a touch of color to his monochrome soul. venturing a step closer to you, he lightly scoffs at your melodramatic behavior and remarks, “woe is most definitely not you. now get up, pup.” and before you can comprehend, his gloved hand wraps around your wrist to gently pry it away from your face. “changed my mind,” he murmurs while indicating to the book of stickers that you casted aside, “pick one f’ me, will ya.”
ghost who refuses to comment on your shaky fingers to save you from embarrassment. it’s endearing that despite the layers of heavy clothing, you’re still hesitant to touch any part of him. “you’re all set,” you quickly chirp before stepping back to admire your handiwork. or so you tell yourself that excuse. in reality, you’re teetering on the edge of becoming distracted by the heat that he radiates. and he savors how your gaze dances across his masked face but evades his intense eyes. the most profound part of him that reduces you to stumbling on your words like a drunk. intoxicated by him. it’s like he’s drinking you in and allowing himself a selfish taste of your beauty. a thought that causes you to heavily gulp. to take your mind off of the blatant yearning, you teasingly raise the sticker book up to him, “how about I add another one? this one has glitter—” “that’ll do,” ghost interjects and turns to leave. his immediate answer and retreat brings about a genuine laugh from your lips. it’s music to his ears. wagering a glance to his chest, he notes the sticker you chose for him. cursive letters twisting into ‘you’re a star!’ followed by a smiling gold star draws his attention. you don’t spot it but as he leaves, his gloved fingers reach up to smooth the sticker over his vest. to pat it down so it stays a while longer.
ghost who attempts to convince himself that his disinterest toward the small slips of adhesive paper is still the truth. they’re just for show, right? no one really pays attention to how some of the stickers varied in size. they’re all mature adults. and it was completely unrelated how there’s regular bickering amongst various recruits that compared their hard-earned rewards. doesn’t admit that his chest visibly swells with pride whenever the other soldiers point out that ghost always receives the biggest sticker. purposefully taunts them by stating, “get better then, yeah?” he also fails to acknowledge that you’ve coerced and conditioned him to accept them like a pavlov experiment. after all, your unwillingness to comment on how he noticeably leans over so you can put stickers wherever you wished must mean that it doesn’t happen. and in the scenario where it could perhaps occur, you shouldn’t blame him because ghost was certain no one else had the willpower to brush you away. you with gentle fingers and an angelic voice. singing him a siren song whenever you mutter, “for your excellent work, lieutenant,” as you smooth on another ridiculous sticker. his heart stutters in his chest when he feels how your hand tentatively flattens against his chest. the broad muscle causing you to hum appreciatively before gracing him with a coy smile. an interaction that replays in his mind whenever he’s awake and follows him to sleep.
ghost who clenches his fist so tightly that his blunt nails bite into his own palm when he overhears a lowly recruit outrightly insult the implemented routine. hears them utter (when you’re out of earshot of course because goodness forbid that they have courage) ‘bullshit’ and how you were ‘off your rocker for putting up with this waste of time.’ and ghost isn’t usually responsive in situations like this. he’s got a covert operation to focus on in about 15 minutes. a level-headed person was far more intimidating and efficient during classified matters. now, however, his heavy boots thud against the floorboards when he stalks toward the recruit. an abrupt wave of darkness and unabridged horror before the recruit is face-to-face with ghost. “problem?” he asks challenges, voice dead and devoid of sympathy. his head slowly tilts and the action creates a dismal shadow over the eye sockets of his mask. ominous and menacing. everything that ghost is infamous for. knows he’s won when the recruit’s apology is nasally and on the verge of crying but their reaction isn’t his personal interest. what he does undertake as his responsibility, though, is when he’s called into price’s office for a debrief. he pockets some of the miscellaneous sticker books that sit on the superior’s desk. wordlessly hands them to you when you’re both briefly passing each other in the hallway. and while you profusely thank him for the additional sets (vaguely wondering what caused the change in his behavior), you playfully press a sticker above the lower portion of his mask– right where his lips are. somewhere new. you leave him rooted to the spot, the sweet gesture sending him into a stupor, and call over your shoulder, “compensation for the stickers!” he watches as you hurriedly dart away before he can react but there’s no need. he unabashedly smuggles more stickers from price’s office in hopes of reaping a similar repayment again.
ghost who reasons that stickers aren’t that bad if you’re the one giving them out. he organizes himself with the rest of the force, a brooding figure that patiently waits in the back of the line. favors being the last one because you’re able to utter more than a few words of encouragement to him. if he’s lucky then you converse and excitedly share your day with him– like you currently are. “want me all to yourself, do you?” you heartily tease him upon noticing that he’s consistently been last in line for the third time in a row. he shifts on his feet, makes a show of looking around at his fellow team members that are filtering out of the room, and deliberately concedes, “‘suppose so.” his frank answer is followed by a flustered roll of your eyes but it’s the genuineness that causes your heart to flip. you force yourself to concentrate on the task at hand– giving out prizes. unsteady fingers lifting at the sticker page, you skim the options before spotting a perfect one. your teeth catch the edge of your bottom lip as you can’t help but question, “you say that to everyone, simon?” his real name on your glossy lips. a prayer that he desires to hear being chanted over and over as he holds you in his arms. the gaze he wraps you in is burning. tempting. exhilarating. you push yourself up on your toes to reach out and place a sticker on his cheek. on the hard shell of his skull mask that you’ve learned will ultimately end in halfhearted chiding because the adhesive is difficult to remove off of it. ghost catches a glimpse of the sticker that you’ve picked. the bolded words of ‘#1 lieutenant’ flashes at him. and the sticker is like a brand you’ve adorned him in. an embellishment that he proudly displays and wears because it’s what you’ve given him. he hums, dark and inquiring, when he leans to graze his masked lips against your inner wrist. his eyes are heady and half-lidded. clouded with a violent craving for you– always you. visibly strains to make contact with your exposed skin by tilting his head to place another chaste kiss on your hand while murmuring, “just to the sweet ‘n pretty ones that I fancy.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost#simon riley#call of duty x reader#call of duty#simon riley imagine#cod x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley drabble#ghost x you#ghost x y/n
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The Colors of Crowley
Black is the color Crowley uses to cover himself, red is the color that represents Crowley to himself, and yellow is the color that represents Crowley to Aziraphale. What each color symbolizes and how it's used give us important information about Crowley (and to some degree Aziraphale) and about the ineffable relationship.
I feel kind of dumb writing this post because I'm sure it's glaringly obvious to everyone else, but there's this Metro UK article of all things (the Metro is owned by the hardcore rightwing Daily Mail, btw, so please don't link to it) that mentions the red stitching on Crowley's gloves in 1867, and it made conscious some details I had only subconsciously noted, so fwiw to anybody else, here are my notes on the colors associated with Crowley in Good Omens and their significance in the context of the way each one is used.
I don't think we need to cover black-as-evil in Western color symbology. [And yet here's a long-ass paragraph about it anyway! --Ed.] Light:dark::good:evil has been a thing with Christianity since before Christianity was even Judaism. The Israelites picked it up from the Zoroastrians way back before YHWH had subsumed El as 'God,' which may have been before they were Israelites as well; I mean it was a LONG time ago. Good Omens has been using black and white to represent Hell and Heaven, respectively, long before the show. In the UK, the book was published in paperback with a choice of black or white cover with an illustration of the contrasting character in the contrasting color: Crowley illustrated in black, Aziraphale in white. The current hardcover is grey.
Crowley wears black, and the Bentley is black. At the metanarrative or authorial level this is obviously for the purposes of the black/white demon/angel contrast, but on the intra-narrative level, the Watsonian level, it's interesting to note that Crowley doesn't have to wear black. He's obviously not free to choose from the full color palette, but Furfur's shirt and sash are is dark emerald green, Dagon is in ultramarine (as befits a marine Elder God), and Shax has only been on Earth for four years before she's wearing head-to-toe oxblood. When she shows up later in battle dress she's got a lot of oxblood there, too. And yet Crowley wears black.
Authorial reasons aside, black suits Crowley for a couple intra-narrative reasons. For much of history, black was the most expensive color to dye and maintain in clothing, and as a result it has always been fashionable. And for several centuries in Christendom, wearing black was also a sign that you were in mourning, which was a social and religious obligation when someone close to you died. Whether you could wear other colors with it depended on how long ago that death had occurred.
Again: black is what Crowley chooses to cover himself, and as there is a sharp distinction between how Crowley presents himself to fulfill his obligations and who he thinks of himself as being, there is likewise a distinction between the colors that represent those two quantities as well.
Red is the color the show uses to represent Crowley to Crowley. The most obvious reason is his hair. This is another change from Book Omens, where Crowley is described as having hair that is "dark." A lot of fans in the UK hated the change when S1 came out because fans hate change and the British have a thing against gingers, but Crowley's red hair suits him better than dark imo because the Mother of Demons in Jewish religious literature, Lilith, is traditionally depicted with red hair. Red hair has been associated for more than a millenium in the Middle East and England and Wales with sorcery, witchcraft, demonic influence/possession, and satan-worship.
Crowley wishes his mom was this cool with snakes.
A good case can be made that Crowley genuinely likes the color red in addition to considering it demonically appropriate. I say this for three reasons. Firstly, because when he has a (limited) choice of (again, demonically appropriate) colors, he always chooses red. The marble of the desk in his apartment is not green or grey. He can have any color stitching on his gloves or lining of his jacket collar he wants, but it's always red. Secondly, it's not only red he chooses, it's almost always bright red.
We know Crowley's red isn't supposed to represent blood or violence, because we have another demon character whose use of red represents just that, and it's not the same red:
Compare Shax' oxblood and burgundy to
and
and
and
Crowley's red isn't just red, it's lipstick, cherry, crimson red. And in case we weren't sure that we should read this red as symbolizing passionate, romantic love:
Romantic symbolism aside, bright red is also the color of passion (romantic or otherwise), optimism, heat, vitality, life, (hell)fire, and warning.
Red and black says don't fuck with Jack.
The third reason I think we can safely say that Crowley actually likes the color red is that he hides it. It's always tiny little touches, some of which you have to look for to see. (I still don't know where they snuck in the red on his Elizabethan habit, e.g.) And we know this color is a risk for him, and that he is right to hide it, because Ligur, who doesn't approve of any of Crowley's less-than-fully-demonic embellishments and may share Hastur's opinion that Crowley has gone native, comments on one of Crowley's more noticeably colorful items.
And I think the red tells us one more thing about Crowley, too.
Bright red is the colorest of colors, you know? When we can choose only one color to represent all colors, to represent colorfulness itself, we choose bright red (even in cultures where red symbolizes other meanings than it does in Western art).
Remember how Aziraphale gives Crowley's jacket a tartan collar when he swaps bodies with Crowley and impersonates him in Hell because Aziraphale feels the need to maintain some small secret token of his identity, some tiny unremarked sign of something he loves and thinks is beautiful, when he is down there alone in the gloom among enemies?
Crowley is down there alone among enemies every second of every day and night, whether he's in Hell or on Earth. And he's already had his identity stripped from him once. If you were someone who said
about this
and then you got recruited by the fash downstairs bc the fash upstairs threw you out for not being fashy enough and you had to start wearing nothing but dark colors and more importantly had to hide everything that made you feel warmth or softness or joy, and that was it, that was the deal for eternity, but you could add one (1) little touch to everything you wore to remind yourself that there is some beautiful part of you left, something you loved once, that no one has yet been able to steal or brutalize out of you...what color would the stitching on your gloves be?
Lastly, Yellow represents Crowley to Aziraphale. I'm going to skip the chain of evidence for this bc I think it's obvious, but the way it's used also lends itself to some inferences supported in other areas in the show.
Here's where I think changing Crowley's hair to red from Book Omens' dark is a good decision in another way. Crowley always has red hair, and if he has any color in his clothes it's going to be red. Red is eye-catching; it always stands out, but it doesn't stand out as demonic. And yet the color Aziraphale associates with Crowley and calls "pretty" isn't red.
I suspect that when Aziraphale says he can make Crowley an angel again, Crowley hears "You're not good enough for me to accept you as you are, let me fix you" because these are words Aziraphale has said to him many times, and has meant some of those times. But
tells the audience differently. The color Aziraphale associates with Crowley, the color he calls "pretty," is the color of Crowley's only overtly demonic feature. Aziraphale doesn't love the angel he knew who isn't Crowley, he loves Crowley, the demon, the person he is now, his yellow demon irises.
Yellow appears in three other places in S2, and they're all symbolically significant, and in fact serve to establish another symbolic significance to the color yellow in addition to that of Yellow Is the Color of My True Love's Eyes.
One of them is a feather duster:
Crowley reacts to a feather duster like a cat confronted by an unfamiliar object
The other three are private conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley:
The walls that surround Crowley and Aziraphale when they speak openly about their situation and how they will handle it are drenched in yellow, and that is super interesting, because in Western color symbolism yellow is the color of fear. The archangel of whom Crowley and Aziraphale are both (rightly) terrified wields a tool the color of fear. The color of fear saturates the backdrop of conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley when they have to discuss their situation and their actions openly.
Remember how Aziraphale's voice shakes here?
Crowley realizes the crows have just handed an angel evidence the angel can take to Hell and use to have Crowley killed
Even the Bentley, that clear sign of Aziraphale's love for Crowley, is also a yellow coffin enclosing him. For Aziraphale, thoughts of Crowley are always entangled with fear, because Crowley is not just Crowley, he is also Crowley's Fall.
And I think fear is what Crowley's eyes themselves represent. For Crowley, fear is now a fundamental part of his perception, his nature, his identity.
The angel Aziraphale once knew is not Crowley, and yet from what we've seen, the chiefest difference in character between this sweetheart and this mischief-maker--
--is that the Starmaker does not know yet that he should be afraid, and the Serpent does. That knowledge and its fear has, shall we say, colored his view of the world.
Aziraphale learns that fear early by observing others rather than Falling himself, and knows enough that by the first time we meet him in the Before, he is already afraid.
Pink was once symbolically equivalent to red; in modern Western color symbology it is a color of innocence, youth, beauty, and first love. Hashtag just sayin'.
The cruellest thing this suggests to me is that, rather than rebellion or his propensity to ask questions, rather than the knowledge of good and evil, the Starmaker's Fall was caused by his innocence. it wasn't the questions that were the problem: it was that he didn't know any better than to speak them out loud.
Y'all, Crowley and Aziraphale do not suffer from communication problems. Despite both being male-coded and British, they don't even seem to lack emotional intelligence. What they do have is a universe of silence and fear they have to communicate within and around. What they lack is the safety to speak and love freely. The true color of Crowley is crimson, but someone gave him those eyes, and Aziraphale either watched that happen or knew about it, and now Crowley covers himself in black--which btw is also the symbolic color for mystery and secrets--and only lets Aziraphale see him as he really is now, because Aziraphale won't judge him for his yellow eyes (or punish and forsake him for his questions). Because Aziraphale carries that fear with him too.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens analysis#good omens crowley color analysis#good omens crowley color#crowley#good omens colour analysis good omens crowley colour#good omens colour#good omens meta#angel!crowley#starmaker
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I like. Have not played a single Hoyo game so it is quite shocking to see people take deeper looks into the games and their themes to uncover just how DEEPLY racist Hoyoverse is.
When I say racist I mean like. Painting this fantasy, ideal, "aesthetic" world that only wears the face of multiculturalism, while explicitly making it so all the heroes and good characters are white, while making the enemy characters typically with a darker shade of skin. Like just. In fucking Genshin. Look at the Hilichurls. They've literally got pitch black skin and masks, and despite having their own culture, are constantly and consistently treated nothing more as "pests". Like just. I swear to god there are so many "Hilichurl" like examples of weaving weird racism into video game enemies in the wider media sphere, but I digress.
What really gets me is like. I saw some shit from fucking Honkai or whatever where there is an entire character who was born black, but bleached her skin out of shame. Like. What. Also this is all second hand, so forgive me for getting details wrong, but doesn't she just. Keep hating herself for her skin color and her heritage? Also the way her mother is drawn is just like. Somehow both a racist and transphobic caricature rolled into one. Like they illustrated her in a way that doesn't feel done in good taste. It fees like they want to evoke a sense of confusion and maybe disdain. Perhaps they wish for you to sympathize with the girl who bleached her own skin (???) and like. What the fuck is this writing HOW DO PEOPLE JUST NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS??????
Also. There is of course ZZZ. The issue here is more what people have already mentioned and something I don't feel like fully relaying. Which is the sort of heavy emphasis and inspiration from Hip-Hop and Rap culture, but without any black characters actually in the setting. Ben Bigger is like. Legit the blackest character there, problem is that he ISN'T HUMAN. Like it shows that they would sooner create an anthropomorphic bear, a fantasy character, than a black character that actually displays their culture in a proud way. Not really my place to say all of this, since others have said it much better than I ever could. Last thing I would say is that the Black edits of the characters (especially Ellen Joe), make the character designs leagues better.
To cap off this messily organized tumblr post and rant, it brings me to my biggest issue: erasure. The fact that when you search up Tighnari, you only get that dogshit anime boy, hell, the issue even still persists somewhat when you specify for Al-Tighnari. I am not well read on who Tighnari is, but even skimming past a description of that man is truly breathtaking. He sounds like a very well traveled, very wise man who likely had a sizable impact on the world. Thing is. When you search up Tighnari you don't see this man anywhere. When you bring up Tighnari, it is unlikely people actually recognize who the man himself was. Instead you have this character, who's skin is as white as a sheet, actively acting like a shroud being thrown over an old cultural icon. His design has been criticized endlessly for how little it lines up, but that's not the point. The point being is that Tighnari in Genshin has uprooted knowledge of the original in the public eye. This is but one example, and doesn't even BEGIN to touch upon the absolute shitshow that is Natlan. However, people have already exhaustively described what is wrong with it so I digress there. Oh and I said I would close this out but like. Fucking Star Rail or whatever has a character with Dark Skin who has "shacklebreaker" as one of their main skills and like. This is some J.K. Rowling type racism. Like what. What the fuck?
Look what's really important here is that I am just so fucking taken aback by learning the extent of it. I always bore a minor grudge against Genshin, but the clarification, and the knowledge of how deep this shit goes... just makes me realize this. There is no longer any confusion about how this got so popular, because racism is excusable in general fandom spaces. Racism isn't considered a dealbreaker to many people, and that is the root of the issue I believe. How general online fandom communities and people as consumers are just so unbothered by racism that they will just not criticize it, pass it off as normal, and will actively engage in racist tendencies, rather than making any effort to better themselves and to be more tasteful in what they choose to support financially, and what they choose to consume.
#hoyoverse#hoyolab#honkai star rail#honkai impact 3rd#genshin impact#natlan#tighnari#zzz#zzzero#zenless zone zero
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The Correspondence of the Contagious
Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!reader x Ellaria Sand
Words: 1.4 k
Rating: G
Summary: Oberyn is away for a few days and illness comes to Dorne.
Author: Mod Mouse
Notes: This is one of my entries in @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge! This was so fun to write (and thanks to Mod Crow for the help!) Hopefully I'll have the other fic out next week.
My Dearest Viper,
I hope the Northern kingdoms aren’t dimming your fiery spirit. I know you were hesitant to adventure so far away from your paramores, but I assure you we aren’t going anywhere. Soon you’ll return to the warm embrace of your land and your lovers. On your return we shall keep you in your room drinking and enjoying the company, filling us with as much pleasure as we could handle.
Dorne is still quite warm despite the seasons changing. Ellaria and I have been spending our days basking in the sun while we still can. We even made up a nice lunch that we enjoyed under the lemon trees in the grove that you adore so much. Once we were full of delicacies (and a taste of each other) we followed the path through the Water Gardens. We look like pies straight from the oven with the amount of sun on our skins. But it was much needed for the both of us.
Although something must have kicked up some retched pollen because Ellaria has been stuffed up since then. She insists she is okay (you know how stubborn she gets with this sort of affair), but after some well placed cuddles, she allowed herself some rest. That’s where she is right now. Snuggled up beside me as I write this to you. She’s as beautiful as always with her dark hair spread out like crow feathers on our shared pillows. I wish I could illustrate how beautiful she is. You would delight in the sight of her my dear as I am in this moment of time.
With plenty of rest and your herbal tea mix, she should be right as rain in a day or so. No need to worry your little Prince head about. I can handle our lover’s moods while you handle your duties. We shall see you in a fortnight. I shall pray to the Seven for your safety on your journey.
Your Dove.
My Dearest Viper,
I know politics have kept you busy so I hope this letter finds you well. At least in a better condition than our paramore. I fear that whatever illness has graced her body has stayed longer than the foreseen time. Her sniffling has turned into a cold. Poor thing has been coughing bouts that last several minutes. Diluted wine helps in the end but only after acquiring a sore throat.
That wasn't the only thing she received from this illness. She has acquired a bit of a fever over the last few hours and her energy has lessened. But the Maester believes it’s just the bug that has been spreading throughout the castle. He has given her more herbal remedies and plenty of rest as her medication.
I will continue to watch her with a careful eye. Once again she is resting beside me. Even in sickness she has my deepest love and adoration. I thank the gods every day that I get to be simply in her presence.
When she wakes I shall see if she wants to spend some time on our balcony. The Maester said that sunlight would be a nice addition to her healing. Oh and I’ll have those berries brought from the kitchen for her to snack on. She was delighted when we went for our walk. They shall lift her spirit and body.
I’m afraid my time with you is cut short my dear. Our lover stirs beside us. I will write to you once she finds slumber again. I hope the North is treating you as well as they can.
Your Dove.
My Dearest Viper
I pray to the Seven that you receive this letter. I’m afraid the sickness was much worse than anyone could have expected. Her fever is at an ultimate and she hasn’t eaten for a few days. The Maester claims that she will arrive on the other side of this pestilence mountain and I am hopeful too. But it’s hard to have reassurance when your lover shakes like the leaves in the wind. Pelts have been placed on her body but they do nothing to keep her from shivering. She sleeps like a princess with a spell placed on her. I rouse her only to eat and drink.
I pray your journey will end soon so that your presence can heal her as much as mine. I didn’t want to raise your worry while you were away, but I’m scared. Less severe sickness has taken loved ones, and my soul is in an unrest. I wish for your strength my dear. You have an aptitude for these sorts of situations.
I wish to keep writing to you, for I feel your presence in these words, but I fear I’ve run out of subjects to discuss. Please return soon my dearest Oberyn.
Your Dove
What you didn’t tell Oberyn was that you were suffering the same ailments Ellaria was currently experiencing. Your fever was just as high as Ellaria’s and you clung together in sickness, bodies shaking in unison. The need for food seemed like a distant afterthought, and your stomach cramp every time you coughed.
Ellaria whimpered and your head peaked up. You had tuned your senses to anything she might need during this time even if it meant ignoring your own needs. “My love, let me get you something to drink.” You weakly kissed your head as it took all of your energy to even sit up but you had to do this for her.
You swung your legs over the sides. The wind felt cold against your bare skin despite the warm summer heat still lingering. Your breath seemed to struggle to enter your lungs, but you pushed yourself up. Ellaria needed you; your body be damned. Carefully your hands braced themselves on the wall. Using the rough texture as your guide, you shuffled your feet in slow deliberate steps.
But the pestilence in your body had made you weak, for your legs could no longer hold your weight. As you felt yourself pitch forward a strong pair of arms was the only thing stopping you from hitting the ground. The sudden stoppage of momentum threw you off and you couldn’t make heads or tails of what just occurred.
A familiar voice filled the room. “My dove what are you doing out of bed?” You glanced up despite the pounding in your head. Oberyn looked down at your body with worry. Gently he situated you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I thought…you’re here,” You said and the weight of the last days finally made themselves known. You teared up and Oberyn guided your weak head to his shoulder, letting your body rest against his chest.
“I’m here dove,” He soothed your anxieties. Up and down your back his hands soothed your anxieties. He could feel the exhaustion in the way you held your body. You went to speak, but a coughing fit seized you instead.
“Easy love,” Oberyn soothed, sitting you up slightly, holding your weakened body up. You whimpered as the coughs turned into labored breathing before calming down completely.
“I-I thought you would never return,” You whispered as tears formed in your tired eyes.
“My dove. I left the Northern kingdoms as soon as I heard of Ellaria’s ailment,” He reassured you gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. “Those clever ravens still found me. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill too?”
Tears streamed down your hot cheeks, and with a gentle swipe of his thumb, Oberyn rid of them. “I-I…I was so worried about Ellaria.”
“Shhh none of that now. I know you were so brave my dearest, but now let me care for my paramores,” Oberyn kissed your forehead before gently laying you back alongside Ellaria.
Just like you had done for the last several days, you curled up beside her touching your fevered heads together. Oberyn arranged the blankets back into place. He turned around and grabbed the washcloths from the nearby water basin, wringing the excess water. With a gentleness unusual to such a warrior, he placed the cloths, one on Ellaria’s forehead and then one on yours.
You sighed at the cooling relief of the water, and you felt your eyes drooping the weight of handling this alone dissipating. A gentle hand caressed your cheek. “Rest now my dove. I’m here now,” Oberyn whispered, leaning down to kiss your chapped lips. With your safety net here, you finally let yourself relax as a much needed sleep consumes your consciousness.
All Works Taglist
@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose
Pedro Character Taglist
@littlemisspascal @burntheedges
@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal
@morallyinept @lady-bess
@pedrostories @rivnedell
@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing
Thanks to the lovely @saradika-graphics for the dividers!
#crow and mouse writings#mod mouse writing#oberyn x reader#oberyn martell x reader#oberyn x reader x ellaria#oberyn martell x gn!reader#oberyn martell#ellaria sand#oberyn martell x ellaria sand#game of thrones#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedrohub#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro brainrot#fanfiction#sickfic#roll a trope challenge#rollatropechallenge
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GAME ANNOUNCEMENT,
APPLE BAG EXTENDED DEMO IS GETTING DELAYED.
Hi ! I need to do a little check regarding the development of the game. I originally planned to release the extend demo October 31 for yuri game jam, halloween but also the 1 year anniversary of the demo.
Why did it got delayed then ?
Simple : health reason.
No need to worry too much but apple bag is indeed getting delayed because of my health. I'm a person who's constantly anxious and this has physical repercussion on my body which is not ideal since i write, program and draw for this game. To not cause further stress in my daily life ( since my school does it enough for me ) I'm delaying the date release to not suffer from production stress but also be sure nothing gets rushed for the update. I really wish I could have done it for the anniversary but I have to accept that stuff happen.
Worry not the game is still in active production, it just pass on the second plan in regard of my other obligations. As of right now here are all the current updates of production
-Made 3 new illustrations
-Gave all the characters new sprites + additional characters
-Casted secondary character va
-Rewrote the current demo + wrote the first draft of Aissata's day 2 and 3 events.
-Fixed the french gui problem of the current demo.
-The game's gui is being changed by someone who know better about game design than I do...
I haven't forgot the dtiys ! I need some time but i'll be making a post to announce the winner soon. That all the news I can offer as of now. Thank you for supporting the game or simply supporting me. I appreciate all the nice art and words I have received regarding the characters, it means a lot.
Wishing everyone a good day, and if you don't even know what apple bag is, here is a link for you to go play it !
#apple bag#game update#dev log#rowan#my games#renpy#renpy game#otome game#amare game#sapphic game#sapphic#indie visual novel#visual novels#romance visual novel
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Snow Day - A Lumpy Where's Waldo Story
A continuation of the Uncle Waldo series I've been creating. You can read the last two chapters, Lullaby Bye and Peek-A-Boo, via the links.
Also shout out to @nami-ramen again for continuing to make awesome illustrations based on my writing. You can see their rendition of the Peek-A-Boo chapter here (I also love the idea that the Detective was awake :oD)
Ok, fair warning: this one is a doozy, and deals with some VERY HEAVY subject matter that may be uncomfortable to some (Nothing bad done by our titular Waldo tho, he a "good" boy in this)
*** Proceed with Caution, and Enjoy ***
Two years. Seemed hard to believe how the time was flying. Waldo felt it not in his own body, but saw it on those he had been watching. That being, the Detective, and their child, Junior.
Enough time had now passed since Wenda's death that grief no longer clung to the Detective like a shadow. Waldo now only saw it periodically, in the night.
And Junior, they were now walking and talking, kinda, all over the place. The pair of them had begun to take walks over stroller rides, and Waldo had enjoyed tagging along on their strolls as a distant watcher. Every now and again, Junior might spot Waldo, and he'd give a wave. The kid seemed better at finding him than the Detective was.
Truly an marvelous development.
...
The end of the year was upon the world, and with it, snow had arrived.
Waldo liked snowy days, and not just because he liked to paint the snow with stripes of red, or watch screams become visible in the cold air, but also because the world could truly be still on winter days. Never was anytime truly as quiet, calming.
Though quiet wasn't what he was seeking right now. What was bringing him more joy was the squeals of delight carrying on the breeze as Junior and the Detective slide down a snow covered hill on a toboggan for the 11th time in a row.
It was a popular spot in the park, and a bunch of other families were sledding and snowboarding there as well, all enjoying the winter break.
Waldo watched from the other side of the frozen pines, unseen by all.
It was a rather fun thing, sledding. Part of Waldo wished he could join in on the activity, but alas, he must remain unseen, as per the game. For now, he was content to just observe. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might watch one of the sledders, other than his hunter and their ward, wipe out spectacularly.
The wish was clearly a premonition, as within the minute, a rambunctious teen lost control of their snowboard, tumbling and crashing into a tree at incredible speeds, leaving their leg twisted backwards. Waldo smirked to himself at the screams that filled the air.
The responsible adults there, the Detective included, were immediately drawn to the scene. The Detective turned to Junior, speaking and gesturing to them in a way that Waldo recognized as "stay put." They then walked over with most of the other parents, leaving a series of kids sitting on the slop.
Junior was well behaved, Waldo knew, and was very good at staying put when told to, so there was no fear of them wandering off.
...
That was when Waldo noticed the man.
He seemed to come from behind a tree, as if he had always been there. Waldo was surprised he hadn't spied such a festive sweater.
Slowly, he walked in the direction of everyone, pausing to look at the commotion. After a moment, he looked towards the hill, and all of the children there.
The hairs on Waldo's neck stood up straight in recognition. He knew a predator when he saw one.
It began to make a beeline for Junior at an even pace. Waldo's grip tightened on his walking stick.
Did it dare?
It crouched down next to Junior, saying something to them, to which the child gave no reaction. Then, with a final glace around, the dingo scooped up the baby, and began to walk briskly away.
Oh, it did.
No one else had seen, all their attention had been on the lame teen screaming their guts out. But Waldo had seen, and when he was done, he was going to make those wails sound like cries of joy in comparison.
Oh, this will be fun...
...
Waldo could move extremely fast when he wanted to. Teleportation was one mode he traveled, but he could move in the space between that as well. Were anyone to see, they might just notice a strange, slightly sparking, gust of wind moving through the park, and how the lamps it passed seemed to blink on for a second.
He tracked the creature to the parking lot, seeing just as the car began to turn out. It moved at an leisurely pace, obviously not wanting to draw attention to itself.
Waldo kept pace with it, until it came to the first stop sign right at the park exit. Then, Waldo made himself reappear, inconspicuously, right next to the sign. Feigning a smile, Waldo waved at the car, and began to cross the road, acting like a common pedestrian.
The creature in the driver's seat feigned a polite smile back, acting like a common human. Waldo got a better look at it. The person suit it wore was unremarkable, a rather convincing disguise. His gaze looked then to the passenger's seat, where Junior was sitting. The child's blank face of confusion suddenly turned up to a smile in recognition at seeing their Uncle Waldo.
Waldo felt his smile twitch into a sneer. They were sitting in a booster seat.
A damned booster seat.
It had done this before.
I'm going to take my time with this one.
Stopping directly in front of the car, Waldo leaned forward on his cane, and began to stare daggers at the driver, still keeping his smirk. The creature's grin faulted a little, and it gave a polite beep with the horn. Waldo just shook his head, and rested his foot on the bumper, smile now becoming much, much wider.
The dingo caught on now, all pretense gone. In an attempt at retaliation, the gas was floored, but the tires only spun in the slushy snow, unmoving against Waldo's heel.
Enough preamble. Waldo slammed the end of his cane into the compacted ice, and there was a sudden sparking light in and around the car. Streetlights overhead flared and exploded, the car's engine sputtered and died, and before the beast had time to react, another cane appeared from the dark of the back seat and hooked around the creature's neck, pulling it taught against the headrest with no hope of air.
Move, and you die.
It was a command said by him, but not by HIM him.
While the creature's struggling stilled, an arm, identical to Waldo's own, reached passed and hit the child lock button. Waldo nodded, walking over the the passenger's door and opening it.
Junior's eyes had been locked on Waldo, and now seeing him closer, they reached out their arms, "Wally!"
Waldo's smile softened, "Hey, kiddo. Quite an adventure you're on today, but I think it's time we go back to the Detective. Don't want them to think something," he glanced up at the tumor, "bad happened to you." His teeth bared a bit wider as the cane around it's neck tightened to the point it's eyes bulged; the gurgle was pleasant to hear.
He undid the straps and picked Junior up and out of the car. As soon as he kicked the door shut, the car came back to life.
Drive.
The vehicle took off, and Waldo took a moment to wave goodbye, Junior mimicking.
He would catch up later.
...
No less than fifteen minutes had elapsed since the start of the whole ordeal, and over the sound of the distant ambulance sirens, Waldo could hear the Detective calling out for Junior. Their voice was just starting to shift in pitch from worry to general concern, and there was at least two other voices calling out as well.
As they reached a spot nearby, still out of view, Waldo slowly lowered Junior down to their feet, kneeling beside them.
"You OK?" Waldo asked, taking a moment to look the child over to makes sure nothing was out of place.
Still in good spirits, glancing off in the direction they were being called, Junior just gave a distracted, "Uh huh."
Waldo sighed, a worry now filling his chest, which was a very strange sensation, "OK well... listen OK?" He put his hands on the their shoulders.
Bright eyes looked to his, focusing when they saw how serious he was.
"You have to be careful of people you don't know. There are adults out there that could-"
Another call for Junior. There wasn't time to go into a full stranger danger lesson, unfortunately. He hoped the Detective would do that for him soon after.
"Just try to stay close to your Uncle Waldo and the Detective, OK? And if anyone else tries to take you somewhere or do something you don't like, you bite them." He put up his hands to mimic claws, "Like a T-Rex."
Junior smiled, and made a soft "Rawr!"
Waldo chuckled, "Rawr, that's right." The worry still swirled in his chest, and acting on it, he hugged Junior to him protectively.
"Just... be careful OK? I can't always be around to protect you..."
Almost as if comforting him, Junior's tiny hand patted his arm, followed by a soft, "Oh kay."
The Detective called again, and Junior turned away as Waldo let go. He smiled, "Race you to the Detective, ready?" He faked prepping a sprint, to which the child bounded in place with new adrenaline, "ReadysetGO!"
Junior took off, leaving Waldo sitting in the snow. He took a moment, quelling the waves of anxiousness he wasn't at all used to, before standing up and watching again from a distance.
Junior was found immediately, the Detective seemingly going through the same motions and emotions Waldo just had with Junior, talking somewhat sternly before hugging with relief. The pair soon left the park in the wake of the ambulance taking the forgotten lame teen to the hospital.
...
Later that evening, Waldo visited the Detective residence. Junior had already been sent to bed, having just transitioned out of the crib. The Detective now sat alone in front of a small smoldering fireplace, staring into the embers with an exhausted expression, a half finished mug of hot cocoa on the coffee table before them.
Waldo knew what they must be thinking, as his thoughts were there too. And while Waldo could see down the current path and knew that things would turn out alright, the worry and looming fear of what could have happened or happen was as oppressive as the cold night.
When the Detective nodded into sleep, and a passing car's engine roared, Waldo let himself in. He put out the remaining fire, then found a blanket on the couch to lay across the Detective's from. Long hands rested gently on weary shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.
"Don't worry, they'll be alright," a gentle reassuring pat, a thumb caressing the base of a neck, "They have us. And we are in this together."
Tension slowly left the sleeping form. Waldo smiled, picking up the mug and downing the rest of the lukewarm liquid, lips on the rim touching the ghost of the Detective's in an indirect kiss.
A grandfather clock began to chime twelve. Waldo smirked with his last sip.
Time to have some fun.
"I'll see you for the holidays," He promised before vanishing with a crack. The Detective stirred, blearily looking around, before getting up to check on Junior.
...
It was at the final stroke of midnight that Waldo materialized before the darkened building on the edge of town. The perfect playground where he and his selves wouldn't be interrupted.
A small concrete room awaited. Inside had been strung up with red and white lights, glinting off the various tools and blunt objects strewn about like x-mas toys. Seems his alters also couldn't wait for the holidays to begin.
They looked at him as he came in.
"Ah good, we're all here then." Five sets of eyes feel on the dangerous cancer tied to a chair in the middle of the room. It struggled against its bonds, whimpering out muffled pleas for mercy behind duct tape. All futile.
It was a shame this work was going to have to be unaccredited. He would have loved to string this monster up by it's intestines for the Detective as a present. But unfortunately, the game required him to be subtle. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't play.
The situation had already been explained to it, why this was happening, and what was going to happen. The horror in it's eyes was at it's peak. Good, now they could get the party started.
A small radio was switched on, the static of cycling through stations rung the room like a drum. After a couple channels of festive music were passed over, a station playing Queen's Don't Stop Me Now was selected.
The tune filled Waldo up with anticipation, and he began to prance about to the rhythm. He channeled it all, all the new emotions, into a feeling of righteous fury that fueled him. Oh, he would make this last. Last for a very, very long time.
And as the Waldos began to harmonize with Mercury, dancing towards the beast with canes and weapons raised, the inhuman thing screamed out in glorious terror.
...
"COLD" CASE BODY FOUND
Warning: This news story contains graphic descriptions of crimes that may disturb some readers.
A dismembered and decimated body was discovered on Friday, February 14th hidden in a snowman in a local park.
This killing, according to police statements, is connected to the body parts found in snowmen that have been found over the last few months. DNA testing has identified them as belonging to the individual, but identification of the victim has yet to be determined.
The first of the body parts, a thumb, was discovered in early January of this year, hidden inside of a snowman in a local picnic area. Several others were soon discovered in the area, including more fingers, toes, and teeth. All had minor stages of decomposition due to being encased in snow, and analysts determined that all were removed from a living victim.
More snowmen appeared over the next few weeks, including more and more body parts taken from a still living victim. Evidence of torture was found, including blunt force trauma, stab wounds, electrocution, asphyxiation, poisoning, removal of skin, insect and animal predation, and burning via gasoline.
The body recovered showed extensive abuse, according to witnesses. "It wasn't even a person anymore," one witness described, "just a torso with it's heart exposed, like one of those anatomy classroom statues, but burnt to a crisp and if the peeled muscle side was the whole thing."
The final cause of death was determined to be hypothermia, and set just hours before the body was discovered. It is possible that the victim was encased into a snowman while still alive.
The hunt for the perpetrator is still ongoing. Our reporters got the following statement from the chief of police during yesterday's briefing.
"The person who committed this heinous act will be brought to justice. The manhunt has been expanded to the neighboring counties, and we urge anyone with any information to come forward."
When asked if this is at all tied to the Waldo killings that occurred almost 3 years ago, the chief of police stated, "There is no evidence linking those cases at this time. This appears to be just a single victim over a long period, which does not match the MO of Waldo."
Identification of the body is expected to be determined next week.
...
Alert
Be on the look out for this man, Fred-----------. Last seen three months ago.
The assailant's vehicle was discovered in ---------- with evidence of child kidnapping and -------------- discovered in a hidden compartment.
If you see this man, contact authorities immediately.
...
Missing Children Found
5 children have been discovered after having been missing for months.
They are identified as ------------, ---------------, ---------------,----------------------, and ------------------------------. All were victims of kidnapping at various different times last year. According to reports, all have evidence of various types of abuse.
The children were discovered outside the local detective office, having apparently been dropped off.
The children have been reunited with their families and are expected to receive treatment for their trauma.
We reached out to the families and the officers on this case for more information.
"Well of course, we're really relieved that she's home, and she's safe now," the mother of one of the children told us in an interview. "According to ---------, she was saved from a bad man by a bunch of Santa's elves. I've never been one for praying until our baby was taken, and I think perhaps someone must have heard our prayer and returned our baby to us."
All children seem to identify that they were being held somewhere dark and abused by a man described as -------------------------, then being left alone a long time without food before being "rescued" by multiple different people. These individuals reportedly fed and cared for them for a short while before releasing them.
One child described the rescuers as looking like "Mr. Mint from Candyland".
At this time, no assailants have been identified. Investigation of this case is still ongoing.
...
It would be a couple weeks more before the Detective figured something out.
The placement of the snowmen seemed random at first, but after piecing it together in order of appearance, words began to form in red string upon the town map.
The last one, the body, was the final dot in the exclamation:
DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS!
~FIN/to be continued~
OK, a long one, I know, but god, I just needed a creep like that to suffer, and to make Waldo go full Dexter/Rorschach on them. Also if it wasn't obvious, old Freddy K was the inspiration for that guy (the remake one at that) F that guy!
I think I have just one more Junior focused Waldo fic planned, and perhaps a "X-mas special" involving the Detective and a sprig of mistletoe.
By the way, if you like my work, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, would really help me out a lot right now.
BUY ME A KO-FI
#lumpy touch#lumpy where's waldo#lumpy touch where's waldo#ltww#writers on tumblr#uncle waldo#tw violent imagery#tw body horror#tw sa implied#tw abuse#tw trauma#tw abduction#tw torture implied
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“It’s great that Lucy and Renee acknowledged the relationship between them as romantic/sexual.”
Not only acknowledged. Embraced and encouraged.
They saw it that way themselves so their perspective was always one of acknowledging the love between Xena and Gabrielle as a romantic and/or sexual love.
Because once they saw it themselves - that was it. They never saw it any other way from that point on.
And a lot of people that were apart of the creation of the show have had that same experience where once they saw the love there being more than just friends while simultaneously developing on the friendship… they’ve become shippers just as much as the fans.
It’s very difficult to not ship Xena and Gabrielle to be honest. Their written dynamic is just too perfect for it. And then there’s the chemistry between Lucy and Renee that just takes it to whole other levels of quality and viewing and interpreting the show as an epic romance/love story makes the show far more significant and compelling than it is without doing that because sure the storytelling is good as it is and is tight and well-written without the romantic aspect to it… but it’s 100x more valuable to watch with it. The writing is far more profound, the themes are more important… it just HITS better. I can promise you that.
It’s the one TV show that was never meant to be a romance initially that feels right as a romance because the storytelling just absolutely thrives on it and with it. And I know many would disagree with me on this but I honestly think if you don’t, the relationship between Xena and Gabrielle can actually seem quite abusive because their love and devotion to each other can only really work as healthy if it’s perceived as a romance. If you perceive it as purely platonic - there are issues. And I won’t go into here but let’s just say that those issues can’t easily be waved away if it’s just friendship.
And you see the thing with me is I don’t separate the friendship from the romance or the romance from the friendship. I don’t see these aspects as two completely separate and different aspects. They’re intrinsically combined and it all helps to illustrate a stronger storytelling. The writing flourishes this way.
I’ve never understood the notion of separating friendship and romance. I would think you would need to be a friend to somebody you’re in love with. I don’t really see how it could be a real romance without that. But it just goes to show you how bad the writing of WLW representation is today in TV art/entertainment storytelling that the need to do this is so prevalent. It’s like yeah. They’re friends. They’re best friends. But that doesn’t negate that they’re lovers. If anything - I would say it validates the romance aspect even more.
And I think Lucy and Renee ultimately picked up on this and realized the story is just better all around when viewing and interpreting them as a romance because some storytelling in TV shows can actually suffer when involving romance - no matter whether it’s straight or queer. But Xena is not one of those shows. It thrives. It thrives so well that the censorship makes no damn difference to it. Sometimes it even helps it.
And these are whole ass multidimensional people. Realistic characters to relate to and resonate with. Their individual arcs aren’t sacrificed in any way and that’s what evolves their relationship into a romance. So it’s the complete opposite to what you normally get with WLW representation. There’s no compromise with Xena. You get great storytelling and you get a great romance/love story. And they aid each other. They enhance each other. It makes the most sense. I view it as a love story because it works best that way. There are shows I watch where I just wish the romance was not apart of it at all because it compromises the storytelling for the characters and their developments. But I’ll say it again - ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ is not one. The romance aspect in this show is incredibly natural. Now if you’re talking about all the OTHER love interests and love relationships in the show for Xena and Gabrielle - that’s a different story. That almost always feels unnatural. Especially when it’s straight. And that’s because the creators expect you to see it like that. They expect you to feel funny watching that shit because what they’re doing with it is straight-baiting because at that point they’re team X&G all the way. There’s really only one other romantic/sexual relationship that doesn’t feel funny or odd or wrong when you watch it and that’s Xena and Ares but that’s because Ares is there to serve as Xena’s darker side and even Ares himself eventually acknowledges it’s not him that’s meant to be with Xena. It’s Gabrielle. And creators that aren’t on the WLW/queer love train just don’t do that. Don’t write scenes where straight characters that have feelings for a queer character realize that they’re not the right person for them and their own evolution is affected by that very realization.
You just gotta watch it and you’ll pick all of this up too.
It’s pretty fucking blatant to be quite honest. 😊👍👌
#xena warrior princess#xena and gabrielle#xabrielle#xena#lucy lawless#gabrielle#renee o'connor#wlw representation#epic romance#epic love story
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“How can I take the pain away? How can I save a fallen angel, in the dark?”
“Fallen angel, just let go. You don't have to be alone. Fallen angel, close your eyes. I won't let you fall tonight.” (“Fallen Angel” by Three Days Grace)
I guess, I have to put another trigger warning on the next three paragraphs of this post. I never mention it explicitly, but my words might imply my suicidal ideation. If you might get triggered by this topic, please feel free to skip the aforementioned parts of my text.
As I already explained in my last few posts, I’ve commissioned some of my beloved artists of Snapedom for a special project of mine. I’ve asked them to draw different stages of my afterlife journey for me. In my imagination, I will finally be able to go home with Severus, when I shuffle off this mortal coil (oh, how very Shakespearean of me 🙄) and leave my unbearable torments and pain behind.
The varying phases of my everlasting life will be shown in multiple artworks of Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. I’m clinging to Severus as my comfort character for more than 21 years already. He’s been there for me whenever the burdens of my existence became too overpowering for me. For this reason, it seems only natural to me to expect him waiting for me…and we will finally be allowed to live the life, we deserved to have.
Since I’ve already spoken to both of my closest friends about my wishes for the time after my demise - for which I’m still feeling immensely guilty and remorseful about - I just started to put my requests into writing in an official statement by formulating my “living will” and my “last will”, which I’ve also informed my mother about. And damn, I know, that I have to apologise to my friends for all those dark jokes, which I’m making about this topic (yes, I’m very aware of the fact, that there won’t be a coffin, which could be big enough to bury me with all the items and framed artworks of my personal Snape-Museum 😅), but I need to cope with my sorrows by the usage of my dry wit.
For this component of my personal project, I’ve commissioned my precious friend @opalchalice again. Her mesmerising piece of art shows Jules as a fallen angel in distress, desperately searching for guidance out of her misery. Severus is already awaiting her with open arms, ready to guide her into the pure bliss of her afterlife. This might sound strangely pathetic to some people, but nothing else can soothe my troubled heart as much as these daydreams.
Lia, I know, that you’re very proud of this beautiful drawing and believe me, I’ve never seen anything better from you, yet. I’m immensely impressed by your talent and dedication to the improvement of your skills. It’s always fascinating to me, to go through your former illustrations, recognising the progress, you’re making with every new artwork. Your creativity and your kindness are the reason, why I’ll support you as long as I’ll be capable of going online. Thank you for everything, my lovely friend!
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy & Jules🖤
#Severus x Julia#Sevy x Jules#Severus x OC#fuck me/cfs#surrounded by nothing but darkness and pain#my afterlife art project#point of no return#he will wait for me#commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism#this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom#i‘m so fucking lonely#tw sui implied#severus snape#he’s by my side for 21 years now#21 years and still counting#i love snape#snape#i love severus#pro snape#snape love#snape content#severus snape art#snart#snape art#severus fanart#snapedom#severus snape fandom#mecfs#chronic illness#i can’t do this anymore
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my loving ramblings about syd barrett. 💎🖤
syd / roger barrett is like L from death note if he was writen by lewis carroll.
maybe a wonderland is where he was meant to be.
it feels like a headcanon, a distant memory, to talk about someone who was very much alive.
and yet, he was so estranged and isolated.
i am fixated on syd barrett and his relationship with the world.
instead of how the world saw him, i try to sympathize with the way he saw the world.
which, since he has sadly passed away, is no longer possible.
and yet, the mysterious, whimsical and complex painter is so much more than a madcap.
he was a child at heart, a dreamer with no intents to ever intervene with other people's life choices. deeply troubled, yes, and more than likely neurodivergent, even without his drug usage/abuse - he was always a very eccentric, unique, individualist, romantic, poetic person.
soft-spoken, perceptive, curious, sensitive.
it's awfully considerate for me to think of him even when he is not here. and when he is no longer there.
isn't it strange to relate to somebody i've never met? isn't it weird that i shy away from other people but i feel the weird need from deep inside my heart to let him know how grateful i am?
how grateful i am that somebody like syd was alive, and it's so strange because even he himself was aware of his tendencies to be „irregular“, and his love of fairytales where animals can talk and do strange stuff further illustrates the depth of his imagination, which is a quality that people like to take away from full grown adults.
i wish i could go back and be there to see syd. i don't know what i would do. i would be there and write notes, maybe. i would tell him about my cats. i would tell him about the clothes i wear and about dreams i've had and i would ask him about his.
most his interviews miss the point, none of them seem to know how to interact with someone who was very likely on the autism spectrum but sadly undiagnosed.
i'm autistic and i would actually give everything to talk to him, to tell syd that he is not alone, but maybe that would scare him because i don't want to be just another voice in his head, or add to the shadows that threaten him at night.
but i would want to be his friend - or at least a kind voice from a source outside his messy mind - and i would tell him that everything he does is beautiful and he inspires me to do art and be myself no matter what.
✨
syd, i am sorry for the way people have treated - or forgot to treat you. you deserved better. you deserved a safe place in a wonderland where you can write stories and poems and paint skies on canvases without being labeled a lunatic instead of being isolated and a shell of your former self.
you deserved something sweet like ice cream or the sunlight on your skin on a sunny day without the fear of being judged or misunderstood.
you felt like you were wasting your time because the earth is for the most part not made for people who require conversation past casual small-talk.
and i feel sorry for you, syd.
maybe you are not fully gone yet.
maybe you will always be there.
for my inner child, who thought she was strange for making weird noises and movements.
for my present self, who is always trying to figure out her place in this world and always feels like too much, always feels too incompetent to manage life.
you're in my heart, recklessly tugging on its strings.
you changed my life and you will never know it.
✨
dedicated to my lovely friends:
@motheyesofnight
@mystersydster
@thef1nalcut
@corvus-pictor
@thelasthippie
shine on forever, yeah? the world needs it. <3
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Again ?!
guess who is re writing her new chapter just after publishing it again ? Yep it's me, but at least it's a better story each time haha. Anyway i'm here to feed the BSH fandom to thanks you for the kudos and the suport ( and because we need more participation in this fandom, i wish we were more to like this game to see more fanworks on it ) Sorry for my poor english i'm really tired with college and i clearly need more than 1 or 2 hours of sleep.
Here a sneak peek of chapter 3's illustration, isn't he cute ? Poor exhausted man ( i feel you RN )
And here is Roxanne if they're story were going as the game depicted it, in her barista uniform
( sorry for the shaky lineart it was a quick illustration, i really dont have any time left with my tuition )
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August Reads
Cress & Winter • Marissa Meyer | it was Trying Times and for some reason Lunar Chronicles is one of my go to escapes and comforts turns out. I really wanted to reread Cress but got sucked in and had to do Winter too. Still as good as the first time. Deeply near and dear to my heart.
The Talented Mrs Mandelbaum • Margalit Fox | new non fiction about a Victorian crime boss lady and her band of thieves and fencers. Short and to the point. Interesting. Wouldn’t say it was one of my favorites of the year but it was worth reading.
Your Vote Matters • Rebecca Katzman | childrens non fiction about the electoral process. Made sense and had a real nice layout and pictures!!!!. (Not a picture book it was like 80 pages or something? But yeah I like it!)
Howl’s Moving Castle • Diana Wynne Jones | was just rereading all my faves for a bit there. Still a 12/10 book.
Yours from the Tower • Sally Nicholls | new YA epistolary fiction set in the 1890’s. Surprised me! Actually had a little nuance! Was very good about the characters. Important to me cause it made me understand how people work in certain situations better than I had before. I think I cried sad and I know I happy cried a little towards the end. I do recommend.
Sonnets from the Portuguese • Elizabeth Barrett Browning | still a favorite
Voices in the Air • Naomi Shihab Nye | the Emily poem!!!!! I think I loved Everything Comes Next more, a lot of these poems got more specifically political and idk it takes away their power a bit to me? But it still had plenty of bangers
Wheels of Change • Sue Macy | YA non fiction about the role of the bicycle in the suffragette movement. Interesting topic, real nice layout, lots of good primary sources. It had a reprint of a lot of pretty funny things women were advised not to do while riding, including “do not say Feel my muscle” and “do not ask Do you like my bloomers?”
The Castle of Llyr • Lloyd Alexander | follow up to The Black Cauldron. Beloved. He writes at such a good level and manages to keep the Nobility to the story.
Kilmeny of the Orchard • LM Montgomery | I actually didn’t like this one that much? Kinda hinged on some racist stereotypes and was mean about adoptees and the romance felt kind of condescending. Idk I wasn’t really impressed.
Saintly Women of Modern Times • Joan Carroll Cruz | Learned so many cool stories!!! I did also discover though at times you need examples as encouragement and at times examples might get a little discouraging. The women highlighted were all unique and interesting though!
Mapmakers and the Lost Magic • Amanda Castillo and Cameron Chittock | children’s graphic. Nice art interesting premise and world building. I’d probably read the next one.
Uniformity with God’s Will • Alphonsus Linguori | very good
A Wish in the Dark • Christina Soontornvat | HELLO!!! Childrens fiction with the premise Les Miserables but in Thailand. LOVED IT. SHOOK. I CRIED. BEAUTIFUL. I loooved the characters looooved the words, it was sooooo goooood!!!!!!!!! Made me want to do something nothing else has ever succeeded in (read Les Miserable). Do recommend!
The Lucky Poor • Mazie Lovie | adult graphic memoir about getting a house through Habitat for Humanity and unexpected drawbacks or something? Nothing really struck me about it tbh
Sisters of the Lost Marsh • Lucy Strange | the VIIIIIIBES VIIIIBES FOR DAAYYYYS. Middle Grade fantasy based on English folklore and circus, about six sisters who’s father says they’re under a curse. Beautifully done. This one will haunt me. Do recommend.
Romanov • Nadine Brandes | YA historical fantasy. had its moments but I kinda wanted the fantasy out of it at times though it wasn’t as jarring as some other stuff in that regard. It was a nice walk in the park and then the most nightmarish thing I’d read then just kind of ok. Not bad at all but not my most favorite. I just wanted to read about Anastasia tbh. I think (?) it had a pretty good illustration of forgiveness at one point though that made it make sense to me in a new way.
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Reworking Wish
I know this was already said, but the main gripe people have towards Wish is that the potential was there, it just didn't put on the right amount of effort. A criticism that took me long to agree with after sifting through Starboy simping, Magnifico sandals smooching and parasocial hatred towards the house of mouse.
So, after rewatching Wish for like the tenth time or something, I dunno I lost count, I decided to write down some things in the film that needed improvement. This is going to be taking the film as it is and giving it that little push it needed, more time in the oven to bake.
Also, a side tangent I wanna bring up before we move on. I don't like to use the word "fix" especially since it's associated with some people taking a work and reworking it to suit THEIR tastes and preferences, often without permission and out of spite.
Okay, let's proceed.
The film starts with the shot of the book opening and a narrator explaining the story. A classic Disney staple. The narrator "reads" us the creation of Rosas by Magnifico. However, the opening narration emphasizes too much on Magnifico. I get the intent that this is a form of propaganda he made to get parents to tell stories to their kids about him, but this comes with a caveat regarding his backstory that I will explain later.
So, either you have a different person narrating the opening scene like how in the classic Disney movies do instead of Asha. Or have Asha narrating to Sabino told through hand drawn illustrations she drew about how he and his family came to the kingdom of Rosas, visually through hand drawn animation.
Have the rest of the scene play out but major difference here. Instead of Asha applying to become Magnifico's apprentice, she was recommended the job by Amaya. An issue of show-don't-tell is present as Amaya explains how kind and generous Asha is, but is never shown. Have Asha welcome the tourists but the child is too scared to leave the boat, so Asha sing to them about how wonderful the kingdom is to make the child feel better while also helping the townsfolk on the way in her unique way, reminiscent of Mulan during Honor to Us All. Have Amaya watch Asha guide the tourists on a balcony through a window like the Evil Queen if you like to add a nod to Snow White as well subverting the trope to show that she's a good queen.
A detail I like in the film is that instead of having a servant inform Asha that she's ready for the interview, Amaya herself came to the kitchen to inform her herself.
As for the apprenticeship thing, I like to spice things up by having Tomas, Asha's father once worked for Magnifico who he considers a close friend before retiring once Sakina was pregnant with Asha. Amaya, being more close to her people than Magnifico, knew that Asha is Tomas' daughter and seeing how she's takes after him, recommended her husband to have Asha work as an apprentice.
So, Asha, nervous about becoming an apprentice to her father's former boss/friend/like-a-brother cuz why not make an evil uncle figure. The scene plays the same but little emphasis on Tomas. As well as a "he betrayed me" rant from Magnifico later on.
The At All Costs sequence remains the same and the argument afterwards also kept intact. Additional dialogue has Asha mentioning how her father would have told Magnifico the same but he quickly dismisses her.
The argument scene be tweaked with Sabino still hopeful about his wish being granted next year, making the news that Magnifico will never grant his more hurtful for Asha.
The filmmakers' intent for the animals is that they know much about the universe than humans but considering they can't talk, humans just think they're dumb. I'm a Star plays out the same but additional dialogue is given before the song plays, with the animals explaining to Asha that Star can't speak to answer her questions but they can in song form.
The scenes afterwards remains up to This is the Thanks I Get!? I like to add in minor details earlier like Magnifico checking his reflection during the interview as he "listens" to Asha, subtly showing his narcissism and his ties to mirrors.
Also in the interview scene, he mentions about his old home being destroyed by greedy thieves. This was the caveat I mentioned earlier and how his backstory despite being offhandedly mentioned a few times made him too sympathetic for the simps to defend his nonexistent lack of honor. Either we cut out the "tragic" his backstory and simply have him studying magic and the masses praise him so much that he has enough influence to make his own kingdom.
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Once Asha returns Sabino's wish to him, have the unused scene above be kept. An issue with the film is that despite Sabino being the main drive for the plot, he barely appears in it enough for viewers to care. So the scene where he can finally be able to play his lute serves as this.
Magnifico arriving at the cottage to arrest Asha plays the same. Additional dialogue has Magnifico informing Asha and the viewer someone close to her who knows of Star ratted her out. After escaping Magnifico, have him burn the cottage if you like more villainy.
The scene after play out the same with some minor tweaks. The teens have a secret hideout, a cave with the entrance be under a tree, a nod the dwarfs and the lost boys. Asha doesn't know the hideout initially but Dahlia has left a clue for her in a form of a hardened cookie, a nod to Esmerelda leaving Quasimodo a clue to find where the Romani are hiding from Frollo. Amaya discovers the hideout by following Asha.
Instead of just books, Star uses the furniture the lift the teens up to the pulleys. Another scene has Amaya and Dahlia destroy the book in hopes of no one using it again. A major change is to have the book inform the reader that the more the person uses dark magic, the corrupt they become instead of committing once they commit to eternity, which I understand sounds like a lazy excuse to not redeem Magnifico.
Have most of the guards go after Asha who thought they were being led by Magnifico but was actually Simon. Have the animals attack the guards and Simon like in Tarzan and Beauty and the Beast.
When Magnifico blasts Amaya, she gets knocked out and drops her crown. To show his people he was the real traitor and make the crowd and remaining guards turn on him before he quickly overpowers them.
Have the climax be given additional dialogue and show Magnifico treating the wishes badly once he had Star.
Give a few moments to the scene where Asha remembers the "we are stars" message. Have her look at the her and her father's wishing tree and a moment of reflection before she starts singing.
After Magnifico's defeat, have the scene play out the same but with additional dialogue from Amaya towards Magnifico. Additional dialogue from Sakina reveal Asha her wish.
Once she takes after Magnifico's place as ruler, Amaya wears a more colorful dress, particularly a red colored tone down version of her original dress, showing she's a more competent ruler than Magnifico as well being tied to the rose, the symbol of Rosas.
After the brief timeskip, Asha wears a different dress than her previous one that gets sparkly once Star made her a fairy godmother, justifying the Cinderella reference without too being on the nose.
As for other stuff like the songs, they're fine. Just need a few lines change to sound less awkward.
The animation is fine too, though a lower frame rate like in the clip below would've suffice. And yeah, people will accused Disney for copying Spider-verse, but honestly I don't care since they'll accuse Disney of anything bad, even if they included the stuff they wanted.
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And that's all what I can think of to "improve" Wish.
As much as I like this movie, I do understand why most people don't to the point of "fixing" it. However, fixing it isn't to add a love interest or a villain couple, it's to figure out what works and doesn't. Which is why as much as I have my own version of Star that is very loosely based after the Starboy concept, I didn't added them in it because it'd be unnecessary and distracting.
Wish's flaws are the intentions that were there and obvious, but the way they were executed was lacking. Hence why some of the "improvements" are what the filmmakers intended but given a tweak. Even stuff I added like Tomas being Magnifico's former best friend and apprentice are things the can be better if executed properly or not.
My general thoughts on the rewrite fandom is that some do have the right idea but just have the wrong priorities.
And as much as I wrote down changes to Wish that could may have and have not improved it, I don't want to be praised for it because they general attitude of "this is better than X" has left a sour mark on my thoughts towards the vocal minority in animation fandom or any fandoms.
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A slice of this week's chapter from my K/S novel!
Spock opens his eyes in the meldspace. For all but a moment, Spock sees himself through the mind of another and with his own eyes. He sits in the captain’s chair, his legs crossed, his chin thoughtfully turned in the direction of Kirk, who is bent over the science console, with all the rigidity and formality in his posture that Spock carries. He turns, and smiles at Kirk, who raises an eyebrow back—together, it dawns on them that it is difficult to distinguish between their distinct sensations, thoughts, and experiences. Spock looks down at his hands. They are his own, his fingers slender and long. It is his body, no doubt. Yet he is, without a doubt, Jim Kirk. Spock does not sit this way, and he does not smile this way, so that his lips are curved up like so. No, his own smile is a playful ghost, one that asks if it is a figment of the imagination. This is Kirk’s smile. It allows itself to be exposed and yet it is private. Only for him. So much confidence, so much certainty that has never belonged to Spock is running through his veins. He is borrowing Kirk’s sureness, his authoritative calm, his gentle amusement. How different he is from his friend.
If you liked that bit of writing, you should check out my fic "I Shall Do Neither" here at AO3! Details below:)
I Shall Do Neither (17867 words) by onwhatcaptain Chapters: 4/22 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Heavy Angst, Loss of Control, Psychological Trauma, Mutual Pining, Five Year Mission (Star Trek), Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Post-Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Pon Farr, Pon Farr Aftermath (Star Trek), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Friendship, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Unreliable Narrator, Vulcan Biology, Tarsus IV (Star Trek), Vulcan Mind Melds, Non-Linear Narrative, Storytelling Through Vignettes, Missing Scenes Between Episodes, Plot, Cover Art, Canon Divergence, Digital Art, Illustrations
Summary:
In the wake of the kal-if-fee on Vulcan, Kirk is dead. When T’Pau tells Spock to live long and prosper, he knows he shall do neither. This is a story about men who love each other, and the lengths they will go to for one another.
- Foolish, he thinks. I have been a fool.
How he had wanted so desperately to prove his Vulcan side. How all his life it had felt like a performance, and yet, to be finally subject to the most Vulcan thing of all destroyed him. The stripping of logic. All sense torn from him. His carefully constructed barriers had collapsed like a flimsy house of cards. To be granted his wish this way was a type of mockery. How he had wanted to be fully Vulcan. To prove that the blood which runs through his veins was not so human.
How wanting had been better than having. -
This story is told in two parts across 21 chapters, and will be updated on Fridays.
#star trek#star trek tos#star trek the original series#the original series#kirk/spock#k/s#spirk#space husbands#spock#james kirk#james t kirk#captain kirk#amok time#s'chn t'gai spock#commander spock#mr spock#pon farr#kirk x spock#tarsus iv#vulcans#also if you are reading my tags PLZ TRUST ME on this i promise it's a good story#I always want to do right by them!!!
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