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almostwisegalaxy · 21 days ago

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The forbidden in his eyes

Go hyun-tak x Sieun Sister!reader

Part 2 of UP to two Read this first I beg you

The reader has a shy character in this story

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Initially, Si-eun wasn't wary.

Hyun-tak was always the quiet one, but he saw everything. A quiet rock. He never took the lead unless necessary, and yet, he was always there when needed. That was his strength. And it was surely what had reassured Y/N, even if she didn't say it.

It was gradual.

The first time was a quick trip to the local park. A break between classes, a desire for fresh air. Humin had yelled at pigeons, Juntae had gotten lost in his own thoughts as usual, and Si-eun had seen, in the distance, Y/N sitting on a bench. And Hyun-tak… standing next to her, offering her an ice cream. She had smiled. He had looked away.

No one said anything. But Si-eun felt it.

That something, there. Slight but very real. An invisible thread between the two of them.

It intensified over the weeks.

Y/N, usually reluctant to stay in overly noisy groups, more often agreed to join them. But not for them. For him.

"Is Gogo coming?" she would sometimes ask, in a detached tone that was anything but innocent.

The first time she called him that, "Gogo," everyone burst out laughing. Except Hyun-tak, who turned beet red.

"Why do you call him that?" Humin grumbled.

"I don't know. Gotak, it's ugly. Gogo, it's softer."

And as if it were obvious, it stuck. Gogo this, Gogo that.

Even Juntae smiled, with his enigmatic look. But Si-eun frowned. He didn't say anything that day. He just watched Hyun-tak out of the corner of his eye.

Y/N was tactile. That wasn't new.

She'd cling to his arm when they walked together. She'd rest her head on his shoulder on the subway when she was tired. She'd take Si-eun's hand without warning, like when she was little. And yet… it wasn't the same with Hyun-tak.

It was never her who changed. It was him.

Every time she placed her hand on his shoulder, Hyun-tak became stiffer. Every time she laughed at one of his jokes—and only his—he would pinch his lips to keep from smiling too broadly. And most of all… he'd blush. Like a living blush. guy...

Every single time.

And Y/N? She saw nothing.

She continued to talk, to laugh, to tug on his sleeve, to complain about her homework, to thank him for a snack, to sit just a little too close.

But it was always him who looked away. Who pretended. Who whispered to himself: You don't have the right.

Hyun-tak knew.

He kept telling himself it was stupid. That it was temporary. That she was fifteen, and he was seventeen. It wasn't much, maybe. But in his head, it was a barrier. A forbidden line. He told himself he wasn't good enough for her.

Not smart enough. Not strong enough. Too used to solving problems with his fists. Too awkward with words.

And yet, he couldn't help but stay. To be there. To reach out when she stumbled. To give her his jacket when she was cold. To send her a message at night when he knew she'd had a bad day.

She didn't always reply.

But when she did, it was with these simple little words:

- Thanks, Gogo.

- You save my day.

And he would sit on his bed, phone on his chest, eyes closed, his heart a little too heavy.

He didn't have the right.

But he didn't want to distance himself either.

One afternoon, they found themselves alone, without the others. Y/N had invited him, almost without thinking.

"Can you help me study for math? Oppa's not here, and I hate equations."

He hesitated. Just for a second. Then he accepted.

At her place, it was quiet. Clean. A little messy too. Books, folded clothes, snacks hidden in a corner of the desk. She was comfortable. He, less so.

She had put on an oversized sweater. Did it belong to him? He preferred not to ask.

She sat on the floor, legs crossed, the textbook open in front of her.

"Explain this to me," she said, pointing to a problem.

He knelt beside her, tried to explain.

She understood quickly. And smiled.

"You're really not dumb, Gogo."

"You're better than you think you are."

"You're cute when you say that like it's nothing."

He looked at her. A little too long.

She didn't even notice.

That evening, Si-eun came home early.

He found them both in the living room, bent over a notebook. Nothing suspicious. Just… too close. Too fluid. Too natural.

Y/N looked up and said, cheerfully:

"Oppa, Gogo saved me from despair!"

Hyun-tak stood up, nervously, hands in his pockets.

"I'm going to go."

He avoided Si-eun's gaze. Y/N, meanwhile, continued to put her things away as if nothing had happened.

But Si-eun felt his stomach clench.

It wasn't that he didn't like Hyun-tak.

It might even have been the opposite.

He was the most reliable of them all. The one who fought without hesitation to protect others. Who had never betrayed, never lied, never fled. When they were in trouble, he was the one who stood firm without thinking. He was loyal, upright, courageous.

But Si-eun was struggling.

Too much.

To see him look at Y/N like that.

With that mixture of silent admiration, contained tenderness, and guilt. Si-eun saw it. He read it in his gestures, in his silences.

That look… it didn't belong to a mere friend.

But he said nothing.

Not yet.

***

A few days later, it was a rainy day.

Y/N had missed her bus. She had called Hyun-tak. Not her brother. Him.

He had run to her stop, found her soaked, shivering. She had tried to joke.

"You're allowed to tell me I'm an idiot, go ahead."

He removed his jacket without answering and placed it over her shoulders. Then, simply:

"I can't leave you like this."

They walked slowly, under an umbrella that was too small. She laughed. He blushed. And in that fine rain, he had wanted to take her hand.

But he didn't.

He didn't have the right.

Si-eun watched them from afar.

He still said nothing.

But his fists sometimes clenched, for no reason. His gaze became harder. Not towards Hyun-tak. Nor towards Y/N. Just… towards this reality he couldn't control.

He wanted to protect her. Like before. Like always.

But he also knew… that he couldn't keep her away from the world. Not forever.

And most of all, that she would choose him herself.

Even if she didn't realize it.

Even if "Gogo" remained a silly nickname in the eyes of others.

For her, he had become a landmark.

And that…

that scared Si-eun more than anything.

---

POV Hyun-tak

He should have backed away long ago.

He knew it.

He had known it the first time she ran to him with that smile too big for her still-round cheeks, when she grabbed his arm without asking permission, when she called him Gogo as if it were normal.

No one called him that. No one dared.

But she did. Without thinking. Without barriers.

And he said nothing.

He should have pushed her away, acted distant. He didn't. Because he was weak. Because in this world of chaos, blows, pain, and silence, she was light.

Not a blinding light.

A gentle flame.

Something rare. Fragile. Terribly alive.

Y/N was tactile. She always had been. She clung to the people she loved. She tugged on sleeves, tapped arms, leaned back without warning, slipped her fingers into his without realizing. And with him, it was worse.

He had tried everything to convince himself it meant nothing. That he could handle it. That he could be the one who stayed, solid, unmoving. But sometimes, when she laughed, gently hitting his shoulder, when she clung to his bag, he wanted to scream.

Scream at himself.

Because he felt too much. And she, nothing.

Not like him.

She was at an age where you live through others. Where you heal through those you think you understand. She didn't see his glances, his silences, his trembling. She didn't feel the tension in his arm when she unexpectedly hugged him. She didn't see the fire burning in his chest when she half-fell asleep on his shoulder during bus rides.

She was just herself. Spontaneous. Carefree. Without malice.

And he…

He was drowning.

He suspected Si-eun had noticed.

He wasn't blind.

He felt his gaze linger longer, heavier, when Y/N shamelessly clung to him. He saw his jaw clench, his fists tighten. He recognized that tension in his eyes, that fine blade of worry beneath his voice.

But that day, it was no longer suspicion. It was fire.

They were alone. In front of the high school. The others had left. Y/N too.

Si-eun had called him in a calm tone. Too calm. He knew that tone. It was the calm before the storm. The one used when words become more powerful than shouts.

"We need to talk."

Hyun-tak said nothing. He nodded.

They stopped at the corner of a building, by the wall, where no one lingered at that hour. It was grey. The cold wind whipped their faces.

And then Si-eun spoke. Straight into his eyes.

"You're going to stay away from her."

A blade.

Simple.

Cold.

Hyun-tak didn't flinch. But his heart skipped a beat.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"So?"

"I… I understand."

A terrible silence.

But Si-eun didn't let up.

"Do you think I hate you?"

Hyun-tak clenched his teeth. His gaze trembled.

"No."

"Do you think I take you for a jerk?"

"No."

"Then why haven't you moved? Why do you let her cling to you? Why do you look at her like that?!"

The voice rose. And the blow landed—not a fist. Just a mental slap. A sharp word.

Hyun-tak opened his mouth. Then closed it. He felt tiny. Ridiculous. Ashamed.

But he had to speak.

"Because I love her."

The word was uttered. Slowly. Like a secret being buried. A pain being bled.

Si-eun took a step back. Not shocked. Not surprised. Just… broken.

"You love her?"

"I know I don't have the right."

"You love her?!" Si-eun repeated, his voice broken this time.

Hyun-tak felt his breath shorten.

"I love her like you love what you've never had. Like a fixed point in an unstable life. I love her because she smiles like she's never suffered. Because she still sees beauty in ugly things. Because she truly laughs. And because, when she touches me, I feel like I exist."

A silence fell.

Hyun-tak wiped away a tear before it fell.

"But I won't do anything. I swear. I never have. I never will. I'm not that kind of guy. I already hate myself enough."

Si-eun lowered his head.

And then, in a whisper:

"I respect you, Hyun-tak. You're my friend. You've saved me more than once. I'd trust you with my life. But my sister…"

He looked up.

"My sister isn't just someone. She's all I have. She's the only person I've ever wanted to protect, before myself. Before everything. You were there when she was broken. You saw her in pieces. You saw how she put herself back together. And you're important in that too. But now…"

He paused.

"Now you have to choose. Either you keep making her smile, in silence, from a distance. Or you leave."

Hyun-tak didn't answer immediately.

He felt his heart screaming. His throat was dry. His eyes burned.

But he nodded.

"I'll keep my distance."

It was a lie. Not about the action—he would do it. But about the pain. He knew he would stay. That he would burn in silence. That he would live beside her, without ever having her. That every time she touched him, he would turn away. Every time she spoke too close, he would step back. That he would become a wall.

And it would hurt.

But he would do it.

For her.

For Si-eun.

For himself.

Because sometimes, loving means staying away.

That evening, he went home, alone. He locked the door. He sat on the floor, back against the wall.

He buried his head in his arms. And he cried. Silently.

No sobs. Just tears. Burning. Relentless. Uncontrollable.

Because sometimes, the heart doesn't understand that what it wants, it cannot have.

And that even sincere, tender, honest love…

… can hurt.

And be forbidden.

---

POV HYUN-TAK

Distancing himself from her. He had decided.

It was what he had to do. What Si-eun expected. What a good friend, an honest man, would do. Not what he wanted. But since when did desires have a place in this kind of equation?

So, he put distance between them.

It wasn't brutal. Just… gradual. He replied less. No longer laughed at her jokes. No longer allowed himself to be touched. When she walked past him, he pretended to be distracted. He no longer responded to her nicknames. He no longer looked at her. At least not when she could see him.

She understood.

Not everything. But enough.

Y/N wasn't stupid. Nor blind. She had first thought it was a passing mood. Then, she insisted, a little. He held firm. Until she confronted him.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she blurted out, her brows furrowed, a tremor in her voice.

He took a deep breath.

"I'm not ignoring you. It's just… better this way."

"Better for whom?" she retorted, her voice higher.

He clenched his fists. She was there, in front of him, two steps away. Her presence consumed him. She didn't understand. And he couldn't explain.

"Y/N… I'm tired. That's all."

That's all ? A lie.

She stared at him for a long time, her lips pressed together. Then she whispered:

"It's my brother, isn't it? He said something to you."

He didn't answer. And that was the worst mistake.

She took a step back, her face frozen. Tears didn't come easily to Y/N. But her gaze… it was broken.

"It's him. You're not saying anything, so it's him."

She turned on her heel. Without another word.

Later, he learned they had argued. She and Si-eun. It wasn't common. They were bound by years of silent survival, of shared pain. But this time, she had confronted him. And Si-eun hadn't denied it.

He didn't know what they had said to each other. But the next day, she walked past him without a word.

And that… that hurt more than anything.

He swore to himself to hold on. Because even if it tore him apart, it was better this way. She needed to be free. To grow up without him in her footsteps. To become who she was meant to be, without his burning glances at her back.

But Y/N… she was a flame. And flames don't accept walls.

One day, she came back to him. He was sitting on the steps behind the gym, where he often went when he needed air.

She sat next to him without saying anything.

The silence was thick. Almost heavy.

Then she whispered:

"I'm mad at you."

He turned his head towards her. She was looking straight ahead, her legs pulled up to her chest.

"You don't understand what you mean to me. And you disappeared without warning me. Without telling me why. What do you think I am? A child? A clinging girl? I'm not stupid, Gogo."

The nickname echoed in his chest. He had to close his eyes to keep from faltering.

"Y/N, I…"

"Shut the fuck up."

She was trembling. Not from cold. From anger.

"Do you think you're helping me? You're hurting me. You're hurting me like no one else."

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Because if a single word crossed his lips, he wouldn't be able to stop. He would tell her he loved her, that he dreamed of her, that she haunted his thoughts. And he didn't have the right.

A few days later, they all got caught up in a situation that went bad.

An old score to settle with a former group. Nothing new. Except this time, Y/N was there.

She shouldn't have been there. She was never there when things got serious. But that evening, she had decided to follow Si-eun and the others, despite her classes. Maybe to keep an eye on him. Maybe to prove something to herself.

When Hyun-tak understood what was happening—the ambush, the familiar faces of those who came for them, the improvised weapons in their pockets—his blood ran cold.

He searched for Y/N with his eyes.

She was there. Too close.

"Y/N. Leave." His voice was firm.

She frowned.

"Huh? No, why?"

"Leave! Now!"

"But I…"

"Y/N! GET OUT!"

She flinched. He never yelled. Never at her. She remained frozen.

Then he grabbed her arm, pushed her towards an alley.

"You have to leave. Run until you hear nothing more. Do you understand me?!"

"But why? It's not serious, I can—"

"You shouldn't be here! Don't you understand, damn it! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!"

She opened her mouth. And saw it.

The look.

That of a boy who is scared. For her. Who trembles at the mere thought of her being touched. It wasn't anger. It was raw panic. Naked.

She backed away. Slowly. Then she turned on her heel.

He watched her disappear. And at that moment, he felt something within him collapse.

He had just yelled at her. Forced her to leave. As if she were a burden. As if she were a problem.

But she was none of that.

She was the only precious thing in this rotten world.

And he had pushed her away again.

The fight was short. Violent. A little disorganized. They got out of it. But in Hyun-tak's heart, something had frozen.

He wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid she would be hurt.

When he got home that night, he clenched his fists so hard that his nails left marks.

He sat on the floor, back against the wall. Again.

And he hated himself.

Y/N, for her part, didn't come back to him in the following days. Not like before.

She looked at him from afar. Her eyes dark, hurt. Silent.

She didn't know he loved her. But she knew he had pushed her away. She knew he was keeping his distance. And for her, that was already too much.

And him?

He acted as if he was fine.

He smiled in front of the others. He laughed with Hu-min. He listened to Juntae. He talked with Si-eun, as if nothing had happened.

But as soon as she entered a room, he stopped breathing.

Because love, true love, isn't happiness.

It's a constant burn.

A fire that cannot be extinguished.

And that must be hidden so as not to burn everything down.

---

For the past few days, a new sensation had been forming within Hyun-tak. A burning he had never felt before, and one he couldn't name at first. It wasn't disgust. It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't sorrow. It was anger. Pure. Cold. Muffled. Against Si-eun.

Because he had seen Y/N crumble. He had seen her struggle against rejection, against incomprehension, against a suffering that was far too heavy for her still-teenage shoulders. And Si-eun had let her down. He had his reasons, Hyun-tak was sure of it. But that excused nothing.

He resented Si-eun for imposing this distance. For looking him straight in the eye and telling him to stay away from her. He resented him for hurting her.

And most of all, he resented himself for listening.

That night, he was on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His phone vibrated once, then a second time. An alert. The location app they had installed together, as friends, as a joke. Y/N was in a weird place.

He frowned. A nightclub?

He called Si-eun immediately.

"Why is Y/N in a damn club?!"

Silence on the other end of the line. Then:

"What?!"

"Check the app. She's in a damn club. Explain to me what she's doing there?!"

He heard Si-eun's hurried movements. Then the call cut off.

Hyun-tak jumped up, pulling on a jacket. He couldn't wait. Not this time.

Y/N was already outside the club when Si-eun found her. She swayed, dishevelled, a tight black dress clinging to her slender hips. She was scarlet, her cheeks flushed, her eyes washed out by alcohol.

"What did you do, Y/N?! You just took off like that without saying anything?!"

She turned her head towards him and laughed. A bitter, grating, joyless laugh.

"You want to know? Nothing. I was just tired of being invisible. Tired of you, of Gogo, of your secrets and your orders."

He took her arm to drag her to the apartment. She walked with difficulty, dragging her feet. Halfway there, she collapsed onto the pavement, sitting down like a spoiled child.

"I don't want to go home!" she cried. "Let me go, I'm sick of you both!"

She was screaming. Hoarse, tearing cries. The kind that comes from too deep to be calmed.

"EVERYTHING is my fault, isn't it?! I don't have the right to exist as I want! I don't have the right to love the people I want! No right to live!"

"Y/N, stop…"

"NO! You're lecturing me when you've messed up my life! You and your damn silence! You're not my father, you're not even a real brother sometimes!"

And that's when Hyun-tak arrived.

He stopped dead when he saw her. Sitting on the ground. Her arms dangling. Her hair dishevelled. Her legs exposed. A dress too adult for her. A sadness too great for her body.

Something exploded inside him.

"Are you stupid or what?!" he roared. "Have you been drinking?! What did you do in that shitty club?!"

She looked up at him. And she smiled. A sad, defensive smile.

"Oh, Gogo. You came too. Great. Come lecture me too."

"Do you think this is a game?! What do you want to happen to you? Do you think we can protect you all the time, huh?!"

He was yelling. Loudly. His voice trembled. His fist was clenched, his breath short.

"Do you want us to find you in an alley, clothes torn and eyes empty?! Do you want to end up like that?!"

She sprang to her feet, stumbling.

"I'll do what I want! You're not my father either!"

"And do you think I want to be, damn it?! I-"

He cut himself off. Because he was about to say something he would regret.

Y/N was crying.

Big, painful, desperate tears. She hit her chest with her fist.

"You don't love me! No one really loves me! I'm just a damn burden!"

"That's not true!" Hyun-tak cried. "That's so untrue…"

But she wasn't listening anymore. She was still screaming. She was in ruins.

And so was he.

He took a step forward, then two. Then he stopped.

She was magnificent.

Not beautiful. Magnificent. Broken, lost, but so alive. With her red eyes, her dangling arms, her crumpled dress, her cries of pure pain. She was truth incarnate. And he loved her. God, how he loved her.

And he wanted her to hate him.

Because if she loved him… he could never let her go again.

He took her in his arms, without a word. She let him, empty. He slipped his back under her arms and lifted her against him. She was light. Burning. He carried her as one carries what one never wants to break.

She didn't speak.

Neither did he.

But their hearts screamed.

---

The sun filtered gently through the thin curtains, caressing the sheets with a warm light. Y/N slowly blinked, her stomach still knotted with the emotions from the day before. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was: there, in Hyun-tak's living room, stretched out on the old sofa he'd always refused to change.

Her throat was dry, her head heavy. And yet, something else tore her from her stupor: voices.

Voices arguing.

Gotak's, first, nervous, laced with anger.

"You think that's enough for me ?! You put a barrier between us and now you want to act like everything's fine?!"

And Si-eun's, lower, tired. But sincere.

"I don't want to separate you anymore. You're the one who's angry. Not me."

Y/N slowly sat up, straining her ears, her heart beating faster.

"I tried to do what was right," Si-eun said. "I messed up. But I thought it was what I needed to do to protect her."

"You think by moving away from her, you're protecting her? Do you know how she felt when she looked at me, not understanding why I wasn't laughing at her jokes anymore? Why I wasn't brushing against her? Why I was changing paths when she arrived?!"

"I know."

"No, you don't know. Because you only see what you want to see. She looked at me like I'd become a stranger. She smiled at me even when she was sad, and I couldn't do anything."

A pause. Then Hyun-tak's voice, lower.

"I love her, damn it."

Y/N felt her chest constrict.

Hyun-tak continued, almost in a whisper, as if he no longer had the strength to hold it back.

"I did everything to tell myself it was stupid. That it was temporary. But every time I see her, every time she touches me without even thinking about it, it's like I fall a little more. I tried to detach myself. I failed."

A thick silence followed. Y/N didn't move, frozen.

Then, the door softly closed. The voices faded away.

She then noticed a sheet of paper on the coffee table. Familiar handwriting.

It's from Si-eun, she thought.

She picked it up, and read:

"Y/N. If one day your heart races, make sure it does so for the right person. Not for an illusion. Not for a crumb of affection.

For something that burns slowly, that remains.

You've always inspired me, even if I never told you.

You've always forced me to be better, even if I denied it.

I didn't want you to fall. But I made you fall. I didn't want to distance you from those who did you good. But I did. And I won't apologize with empty words.

Just... choose someone who never asks you to hide. Who looks at you like you're worth more than the world.

I think he already does.

Oppa."

Y/N put the paper down, tears welling in her eyes.

Hyun-tak was on the roof. As often. Sitting on the edge, legs dangling in the void, a can of soda in his hand.

She joined him, her heart both heavy and light.

"You don't smoke anymore?"

He startled slightly, turned.

"I don't know how to do it. Have you forgotten?"

She smiled. Then sat down beside him.

Silence settled, but not heavy. Sweet. Warm.

She turned her head towards him.

"You said you. loved. me."

He blushed. Lowered his head.

"You heard..."

"Every word."

He sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"I hadn't planned for it to come out like that. But it's true. It's even worse than what I said. I've loved you for months. Maybe more. You changed me, Y/N. You taught me to laugh at my own foolishness. You made me believe that maybe I wasn't so bad. And I was scared. Because I've always been the one people look at last. The one who protects but is never chosen."

He finally turned his eyes to her.

"But with you, I wanted to be the first. The only one. And I was ashamed to want it."

She said nothing.

And then, without thinking, she leaned in and kissed him.

A sudden, clumsy, desperate kiss.

She pulled away immediately, her heart pounding, terrified.

"Sorry! I thought... I believed..."

But he didn't wait.

He placed his hand on her cheek, gently, and pulled her towards him.

And this time, it was he who kissed her.

Slowly.

Tenderly.

With that modesty and intensity that don't deceive. As if he had waited a lifetime to do it. As if he was putting everything he had never been able to say into that kiss.

His fingers trembled slightly against her neck, but his lips were sure. Her heart beat fast, too fast, as if every second could break him or save him.

When he pulled back, she had her eyes closed.

He looked at her, a shy smile on his lips.

"It wasn't a fireworks display," he said. "It was a lighthouse."

She opened her eyes.

And smiled.

Her heart stronger. Clearer.

They didn't know where it would lead them.

But it was already there.

And it was true.

.................................………………………………………

New Geum Seongje fanfictions

MY SHELLA 🤧

: Gotak watching Sieun act like he didn't do anything 😐

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spaghettioverdose · 11 months ago

Text

Also I'm sorry but do you genuinely think Trump is a fascist or that uniquely bad compared to other US presidents? Literally none of his policies are that particularly fucked up in the grand scheme of US politics. Not even in recent years. He is more blatant about being racist, and his target audience is fascists, but as far as his actions, he is very much a liberal. Also deeply annoying that many of you have an understanding of "liberal" as meaning vaguely civil and progressive, and therefore call liberal or even feudal systems fascist when they do genocide or slavery.

I get hating Trump, I get not wanting that guy to be your president, but the way people talk about Trump is like if he's about to set up a military junta and somehow voting will stop it.

A lot of people also bring up the "coup attempt" as proof that he will end democracy in the US or whatever and like two things:

1. Very notably, that happened after Trump DIDN'T win. Like he was not in power. There was no requirement for him to win to do that. Kinda how the whole thing started is some people were mad that he lost. He wasn't the president when it happened.

2. Do you think a bunch of idiots storming a building is how coups happen? Are you dumb? Do you think it's like capture the flag or control points or something? If shit was that easy, there would be a coup every other day.

The whole thing even only went as far as it did because the local police had sympathy for the those guys. If there's a point where there is popular support for a fascist coup within the military, you're fucked either way. If there isn't, and a bunch of disorganised idiots with only small arms try it, they're probably just gonna get killed by the national guard.

Like ok whatever you wanna vote for genocide Joe but at least stop having just a purely vibes based understanding of politics. 💀💀💀

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askvectorprime · 1 month ago

Note

Where do the names "Autobot" and "Decepticon" even come from? Are there any sort of root words that go with them?

Dear Etymology Enthusiast,

This answer is complicated by language barriers that span galaxies. As Galvatron alluded to—albeit in tones I would never use—Cybertronian words can be very linguistically dense; a translation that conveyed every nuance of our equivalent for "Autobot" would take over seventeen minutes for a human to say! As such, "Autobot" and "Decepticon" are only approximations of the neocybex names of these factions.

In many universes, my faction is named for the ideals of freedom and autonomy—hence, "Autobot" is derived from the term "autonomous". Sometimes this reflects a casting off of Quintesson rule or triumph over a caste system, but in other contexts—sometimes simultaneously—it reflects a darker facet of Cybertronian history. A famous bot once said that autonomy was a gift, a spark of sentience kindled by Primus himself. That bot's name was Nova Prime, and he used that belief to justify the subjugation of hundreds of alien worlds.

The suffix translated as "-bot" encompasses ideas such as "person", "individual", "independent agent". It could be considered an adaptation of the common English-language "man", of course—you might be familiar with the Aerialmen, the Dinomen, and the Sparkamen—but "bot" conveys that it most commonly refers to mechanical lifeforms. While typically used in the names of teams and factions, occasionally an individual might be called "Dinobot" or "Dreadbot"; such sobriquets can be seen as similar to a human being carrying a family name as their first name, such as "Jackson".

As for "Decepticon"… much has been said of the phrase "you are being deceived." In many universal clusters, this is indeed the earliest origin of the term. "Decepticon" suffers to a greater degree from the imperfections of localization. In many universes, Cybertronian language uses nuances related to subject and object that fail to translate, especially when neologism is concerned; "Decepticon" principally suggests "deceptive" in English, but in its original Cybertronix, the waveform can simultaneously be read as "the deceived".

The "-con" suffix is not dissimilar to "-bot", though it carries subtly but significantly different implications. "Person" is an adequate translation, but its meaning is much broader, not being restricted to living creatures; you may know of data-cons, information storage devices commonly used in my home reality. The closest equivalent to the suffix in your language would be "entity"—or, more bluntly, "thing". As such, the translation "-con" is derived from your language's "construct", a created object or idea.

The reasoning for the use of this suffix varies across the multiverse. On versions of Cybertron where Functionism took hold, Cybertronians of lower labor castes, or with alternate modes considered fit only for use by others, were more likely to have "con" names or be assigned categories like "Constructicon", "Agricon" or "Recordicon". Conversely, in universes where the Decepticons originate as a military junta, the use of "-con" carries the suggestion of component; all Decepticons are considered to be a part of Megatron's war machine. These implications, of course, carry over to the Mini-Cons. While I am proud to count Safeguard as a friend and partner, for much of my world's history, Decepticon and Autobot alike treated his kind as "smart tools", as mere objects to be collected. Regardless, the Great War created extreme political polarization of the "-con" suffix, and nearly no self-described Autobot adopts it; even as Decepticons freely use "bot" to describe themselves, "con" is almost exclusively used by Autobots as a term of animosity.

One more suffix you may have heard of is "-tron"; here, the root is "positron"—which, before the introduction of microscope alt-modes, we simply understood to be the stuff of sparks. The Cybertron factions of realities like the G1 World and BT World draw their names from a well of indigeneity; unlike the invading, colonizing Quintessons, the Cybertrons are the true sparks of the planet and derive their name thus. The Destrons, then, are destructive sparks who oppose the planet. Naturally, "-bot" and "-con" recur in these worlds too, following similar etymological patterns.

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rotzaprachim · 1 month ago

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one thing I’m always thinking about is the way that the ussr just completely ransacked and destroyed the multiple lefts and progressive movements of central and Eastern Europe in this brutal way and often by labeling the local leaders as “capitalists” “nationalists” and “imperialists” in ways disturbingly similar to modern left wing movements describing the Them Global Core Capitalists like you can use the language of anti-imperialism to do imperialisms! You can!

we’re still feeling in every discernible way like any local leftist writer or artist who refused to submit their culture and their language or to give up attachment to it was made into a “nationalist” or “bourgeoisie sympathizer” or if you were a Jew a “Zionist” was murdered. Every local left wing leader who refused to bow (totally) the soviet planned economy which would take local farmland which would take their resources which would control their people was murdered.

And it’s so messy and it’s so hard to talk about within the particular prisms of right and left wing politics because the U.S. did demonize them and describe the spread of communism as reason to do imperialism! But they often don’t entirely understand what happened to those under the Soviet system apart from “vague hungry drab evil hive mind Eastern Europeans” instead of as a systemic dismantling and crunching under the boot of local systems that had been ransacked not only by class inequality but the constant legacies of previous empires that the ussr replaced - the ottoman, the Russian, the austrohungarian, and this imperial context is not part of the modern nationalist visions of the countries that came after, but it’s so incredibly disturbingly eerily similar to what the right wing juntas and U.S. backing in Latin America did in the cause of anti communism over and over again but yeah. and it’s so difficult to talk about and unpack too because like all other empires there was this long legacy of submission and control like a lot (not all) of the people the ussr disappeared and murdered for “nationalism” were former collaborators of some variety with the regime, or people who welcomed the new left wing age in comparison with what came before, and the modern narrative is so often for people to go hmmmm they got what was coming to them! But they didn’t. They didn’t.

#Personal #idk. It’s haunting me it’s always on my mind #No one hated local leftists like the cia but also Stalin

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simscici · 4 months ago

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Previous / Next Beginning (Gen 8)

Image transcripts (PT):

Ash: Digam xiiiss

O grande dia chegou! Toda a família foi novamente reunida para celebrar a união de Natisse e Yellow. O casal chegaram à um consenso de que caminhariam até o altar juntas e mesmo que Ash quisesse muito levar Low até o altar, ele aceitou sem pestanejar.

Natisse não segurou a emoção, ela estava mesmo casando com Yellow! Elas passaram por muitas coisas e teve uma época que Natisse não achou que chegaria tão longe com Low, principalmente por elas serem tão diferentes; mas cá estão elas, se casando!

Os votos foram trocados timidamente, Low se contorcia de timidez e sentia o rosto esquentar com cada palavra que era dita. Era um aperto no peito e uma vontade de chorar, mas não de uma forma negativa. Low estava transbordando de amor.

Penelope também se emocionava vendo a filha tão feliz no altar! As vezes era irreal pra ela ver até onde chegou e que agora um de seus bebês estava casando! Quer dizer, parece que foi ontem que ela pegava a pequena Low em seus braços.

Só de pensar nisso as lágrimas começavam a rolar novamente! Pene também estava transbordando de amor e orgulho.

Ash… Bom… Ainda bem que ele não estava com nenhum tipo de maquiagem ou estaria com a cara toda borrada agora! As lágrimas escorriam, o nariz fungava e ele passava a mão no rosto tentando contê-las. Sua menina estava casando!

Sorrindo ou chorando? Era difícil dizer, mas isso pouco importava! Independente do que fosse, tudo era de muita felicidade em viver aquele momento!

E finalmente as alianças foram trocadas!

E o beijo nupcial foi feito e felizmente sem nenhum bater de dentes ou cabeça.

Os convidados se levantaram aos gritos e jogando arroz nelas! Todos muito felizes pelas recém casadas!

A primeira dança foi feita e era como se existissem ali apenas as duas!

Callie também foi convidada, afinal, ela era melhor amiga de Natisse. Porém, a mesma se manteu mais isolada de todos e descansava no sofá. Natisse sempre ia até a amiga para conversar e chamá-la para alguma coisa, mas no fim Callie sempre voltava para o sofá e por lá ficava.

Toda aquela vibe de casamento e "felizes para sempre" despertou algo em Touma! Ele agora estava imaginando como seria os filhos que ele teria com Yuna. Será que eles nasceriam parecido com ela? Com ele? Ou uma verdadeira misturinha dos dois? Eram tantas possibilidades e ele queria explorar isso…

[PREFERÊNCIAS FAMILIARES EVOLUINDO? - Touma recentemente oficializou um relacionamento sério. Uma vida amorosa estável oferece boas circunstâncias para ter filhos. Essa mudança é suficiente para fazer Touma querer ter filhos agora?]

Quase no fim da festa, a chuva tomou de conta do local, forçando-os a terminar mais cedo. Mas nem a chuva foi capaz de estragar o clima e eles foram para casa muito felizes! As Senhoras Yellow e Natisse Vilela Painter também foram para a lua de mel, mais felizes que nunca!

#02.20 - post 3/4 #família vilela #Gen 8 #nsb peach #ts4 #sims 4 #not so berry challenge #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr

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imninahchan · 6 months ago

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𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀 𝐈𝐋𝐇𝐀 𓇼 ⋆.˚ Descalços numa ilha, é tão mágico. {...} food play, exibicionismo + local público (?), dirty talk, dry humping, breast/nipple play. Estou maluca desde que saíram essas fts do pedrito na praia, e eu já queria escrever algo inspirado na música nova da marina, então... Mas dá pra ler e imaginar quem você quiser. 𝓷. 𓆉 𓆝 ּ ໑ ׅ

⠀⠀

𓇢𓆸 𝓤sa a própria boca para descascar a fruta, mordendo e arrebentando. Conforme os pedacinhos arrancados se somam, isola-os na mesinha próxima à espreguiçadeira onde está sentada. Puxa com o dentes a suculência, o gosto docinho da manga madura combina com a tropicalidade do paraíso de águas límpidas no qual se encontra.

Na espreguiçadeira ao lado, o homem descansa depois de um banho de mar na leitura de um romance que trouxe na mala. Você observa, curiosa com o título. Chega perto, quer ler por cima dos olhos dele as frases que preenchem as páginas. Porque ainda está focada em aproveitar da fruta, um respingo amarelado mancha o peitoral nu. Tsc, ele estala a língua, mas está com um sorrisinho de canto, sem tirar os olhos do livro. “Fazendo uma bagunça...”, balança a cabeça em negação, desacreditado como se tivesse sido melecado dos pés à cabeça.

Você torce o nariz, bem-humorada também. A proximidade entre vocês dois dobra quando, sem pensar muito, monta sobre a virilha alheia. Não houve uma reclamação, nenhum resmungo que te impeça de permanecer sobre ele, por isso continua. O tecido molhado da parte debaixo do biquíni une-se à umidade do short masculino. “Faço sempre bagunça, né?”, soa melosa, coitadinha, alternando o olhar entre a manga e o homem sob ti. “Quer?”, oferece.

Ele pensa um pouco, crispa os lábios e semicerra as pálpebras, teatral ao ponto de te arrancar uma risadinha soprada. Por fim, diz que sim. Então, abre a boca, investe numa expressão ainda mais dramática perante a sua orientação, mas faz o que foi pedido. Separa os lábios, a língua fica pairando atrás dos dentes inferiores, parece louca para ser esticada pra fora, só que é contida.

A fruta é guiada, atravessa o ar até seu destino, entretanto só permanece sob a pressão da boca por míseros segundos antes de ser afastada outra vez. Você oferece um gostinho, deixa ele provar o sabor doce, porém não permite que sorva. Sorri, arteira. “Quer mais?”, tem a audácia de perguntar, feito tivesse prendado muito.

O livro perde a graça agora, nada naqueles incontáveis parágrafos pode ser mais apelativo do que presencia diante dos próprios olhos. A frieza das roupas de mergulho se mostram um cadinho mais quentes, a linha amarelada do suco da fruta escorrendo pelo seu antebraço é erótica. Quer mais, sim, claro. Quer, principalmente, saber o quanto e como vai ofertá-lo.

Se dependesse de adivinhar o que viria a seguir, não teria acertado o bingo do destino. O sorriso ladino ganha mais força conforme te olha e repete pra si mesmo que você é mais ardilosa do que ele imagina.

Você desfaz o laço da parte de cima do biquíni, não se importa onde exatamente a peça se junta à areia da praia. Nem se passa pela sua cabeça algum tipo de preocupação com terceiros, as notas que gastaram em troca de um refúgio privado têm que valer a pena. E caso não valham, seja honesta, te incita a adrenalidade na possibilidade de ser pega.

Se põe de joelhos na espreguiçadeira, espreme a manga entre a palma da mão. As gotinhas pingam no vale entre os seios. Escorregando, formando um rio peito abaixo à medida que a gravidade reage. A língua ágil dele consegue apanhar o caldo antes de se desfazer no seu abdômen. As mãos famintas apertam a sua bunda, trazem seu corpo para mais perto da boca sedenta. Lambe até quanto o ângulo do nariz arrebitado no ar consegue proporcionar.

O homem umedece os lábios, te encara. Pupilas dilatadas, brilham o desejo de mais uma dose sem mesmo necessitarem de uma só palavra.

Acompanha a maneira com que o fruto é esfregado pelo seu colo, como lambuza pelo mamilo rijo e constrói uma trilha molhada por onde a boca deve percorrer. E assim que pode partir, vem com sede ao pote.

Os dentes selvagens rodeiam o biquinho, mordiscam. Não precisava de tamanha atenção ali, mas é onde mais suga. Você se contorce, quase não se aguenta nos joelhos. A mão limpa vai parar na nuca do homem, os dedos se afundam nos fios curtos. Não geme, os lábios se flexionam num grito silencioso, enfraquecida.

Ele esconde o rosto nas mamas, aproveita mais do que o suco. Lambe, suga, beija. Desce deslizando a ponta do nariz até menos de um palmo pertinho do seu umbigo e torna a ergue o olhar, te contemplando com esses olhos cheios. “Vai me dar mais? Hm?”, questiona.

Seu quadril se choca ao outro, acomoda-se por cima de uma ereção que se forma. “O que você que eu te dê?”, murmura, encaixando o rosto no dele para roubar um beijo, “Tem tanta coisa que eu queria te dar...”

Ele sorri, aperta a mão na sua cintura. “Pode dar aos poucos, bem, sem pressa.”

Você rebola no colo dele, se afoga num ósculo intenso, de perder o fôlego rapidinho. A manga cai da mão, sem força nos dedos. Suja pelos ombros largos quando se apoia neles, está de olhos fechados, fervendo sob o calor paradisíaco. “Quer resolver isso aqui mesmo, não é?”, ele sussurra contra a sua pele, o vapor das palavras arde feito brasa, “E se alguém nos pegar?”, provoca, “Nem pensou nisso, não foi? Ah, danadinha... Se eu soubesse que queria tanto ser vista, não tinha pagado tão caro pra gente ficar sozinho.”

#imninahchan #alexa toca numa ilha da marina sena #essas últimas fts do pedrito me deixo lelé da cuca #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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blood-orange-juice · 21 days ago

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If you are writing anything about IPC, I can't recommend Wynn-Williams's "Careless People" enough. It's a memoir of Facebook's head of international policy and it's full of, uhm, inspiration.

Our international offices have had “visits” and “raids”—armed and unarmed—in Brazil, Korea, India, and France. I usually hear about these when a phone call or email arrives from our local head of office. (“Hiii! There’s a man with a gun here wanting to know when we’ll be paying taxes in Brazil.”)

Or the "go convince Myanmar junta to cancel the law banning facebook. Don't come back until you do that" chapter.

Or the "there’s an open arrest warrant for Mark Zuckerberg, let's send someone else from upper management to see if they arrest them first" chapter.

“We need a body to arrest.” “To call their bluff.” “See how serious they are.” It’s breathtaking to me, how casually leadership speaks of employees being jailed. As if it’s a fact of life like taxes (though of course that’s something they try to avoid). Everyone starts calling this a “mitigation strategy”—even though the mitigation in this case is to find a “body” to be arrested.

Or this gem (telling her boss that they can't just set up a social network service for organ donation):

She turns to me, indignant. The edge in her voice is unmistakable. “Do you mean to tell me that if my four-year-old was dying and the only thing that would save her was a new kidney, that I couldn’t fly to Mexico and get one and put it in my handbag?”

Facebook won a lawsuit forbidding the author to sell the book but it's on libgen (mirror). Also it's a hilarious and genuinely horrifying book even if you are not writing fics for a gacha game.

#hsr #I'm honestly surprised how true to life hoyo comedy evil capitalists are #somehow I thought they were too cartoonish #nope #cartoons can't compete with real life #shall I tag this with aventurine?#aventurine #seems like his kind of thing

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captain-price-unofficially · 2 months ago

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Karen Nationalities Defense Force (KNDF) snipe at Junta officers with locally made 12.7mm anti-material rifles, made from the barrels of Chinese Type 54 HMGs.

#modern #combat footage #myanmar civil war

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"[There is] fantastic news for species conservation after new populations of the gorgeous ‘Skywalker’ gibbon, known to science for only 6 years, were recently found living in the politically chaotic nation of Myanmar.

Also called the hoolock gibbon, this dainty vocalist was first described in 2017 living in the extreme south of China on a mountain in Yunnan. Classified as Endangered by the IUCN, the population was estimated to number a paltry 150 individuals, but others were believed to live in Myanmar.

Even before the recent military junta usurped the president and plunged the country into civil war, Myanmar [was a difficult place to conduct field studies, especially extensive or ongoing ones, due to ongoing conflict.]

[Although they are] now in open revolt against the military junta, [the Myanmar states of Shan and Kachin] were nevertheless destinations for an intrepid team of scientists from the Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, Fauna & Flora International–Myanmar Programme, the IUCN’s ape specialist group, and field researchers from universities in England, China, and the US.

Together, they conducted acoustic surveys, collected non-invasive DNA sampling, and took photographs for morphological identification at six sites in Kachin State and three sites in Shan State. With the help of the Myanmar conservationists, the team also interviewed locals dwelling in rural forested areas, small conservation programs, and timber companies about the frequency of sightings and the hunting pressure.

Population estimates of unknown quality and scientific rigor conducted in 2013 suggested there might be 65,000 hoolock gibbons in Myanmar, but the matter became much more complicated after the classification of the Skywalker gibbon as a separate species from the eastern hoolock gibbon—where before they were confused as the same.

“We were able to genetically identify 44 new groups of Skywalker gibbons in Myanmar,” said senior author Tierra Smiley Evans, research faculty at the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine, and contributing author. “This is a huge resource and success story for Myanmar.”

These gibbons sing to each other at dawn for around 22 minutes, and consume 36 different plant species; choosing fruit first, and flowers later. They seldom sleep in the same tree two nights in a row to avoid predation, and can’t swim so are often confined to territories by river systems.

The team that discovered them in China in 2017 loved Star Wars, and called them tianxing which is Chinese pinyin for “heaven movement;” a nod not only to their favorite sci-fi franchise, but also to China’s ancient history. In the famous Book of Change [aka the I Ching] of the Zhou Dynasty [1046 BCE to 265 BCE], a divination poem refers to gibbons specifically, and uses tianxing as a verb to describe their movements.

The interviews were a source of great data for the scientists. For starters, nearly all individuals in both the Kachin and Shan states could identify a Skywalker gibbon by sight and by playback of its singing, lending the exercise a good degree of reliability...

“Biologists did not believe Skywalker gibbons could live in the small remaining patches in Southern Shan State before we started this project,” Pyae Phyo Aung, executive director of Nature Conservation Society Myanmar, told the UC Davis press.

“I am delighted with our field team members who have done an excellent job, within a short period of time, building community trust for further conservation actions. This area is degraded forest. It is really important for Myanmar and China to consider extending conservation approaches for the Skywalker gibbon to this new geographic area.”

Nearly 32,000 square kilometers, or around 8 million acres of forestland in Eastern Myanmar are suitable gibbon habitat, and while existing forest reserves like Paung Taung and Mae Nei Laung are quite large, they remain unprotected. For this reason, the survey team recommended they remain considered ‘Endangered’ on the IUCN Red List until habitat protections improve."

-via Good News Network, February 21, 2024

#gibbon #apes #primates #myanmar #endangered species #china #zoology #conservation biology #conservation news #primatology #good news #hope

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alatismeni-theitsa · 1 year ago

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https://x.com/CorenLaVolpe/status/1787971755027612092

As much as a Greek enjoyed the Hades game having people literally taking for granted the designs of the gods as legit is problematic.

No Hermes isn't Asian coded. He's Greek like every God. Literally what does the word Greek next to Greek gods mean to them? An accessory? Give me a break

I got a few asks like this, so I will try to answer them here. This is the post the asks are referring to, and this is the post that started the whole discussion afaik:

This is a whole phenomenon that has lasted for decades in the US, first with USians presenting the gods as North Europeans and now as "everything but" North Europeans to combat the previous racist trend. However, they are still completely tone-deaf, self-absorbed, and privileged because while they do this "correction" they're ignoring actual Greeks, and Greek depictions (and depictions of Greek gods in various areas in the past). Westerners might not be aware of this, because they don't know how badly the Greeks have been treated by powerful countries in the past (including their US, thank you for the Junta and our recent fighters' deaths, honey) but the protests about the gods' design are anti-colonialist.

I want you to imagine this trend with whatever pantheon you want from Africa, Asia, South America etc. Imagine that for centuries they are presented as super White North Europeans by certain powerful nations. Now the same nation who did this racist shit in the past comes around and does more racist shit, by NOT presenting these ancient gods as their people view/viewed them but they present them as everything BUT the appearance they had in all their depictions by the locals. All the while NEVER listening to what the people of this culture tell them, all the while comparing the locals to these gods and finding them uglier and savage. Why would this be acceptable? And why are people so comfortable to forget their cultural sensitivities when it comes to Greece?

(I am aware the US racism also expanded to other pantheons but it didn't happen in this exact way so all I'm asking is to walk in our shoes for a bit, to experience a different flavour of colonialism)

This blog stands for absolute equality and it's heavily anti-racist and anti-fascist, with various resources and support links for minorities in Greece. Everyone is welcome here. This blog believes that if you are of Chinese, Pakistani, Nigerian, Roma descent in Greece you must have the same rights as everybody else and the way you look is not "lesser" than anybody else. I just ask people to consider - especially if you are an immigrant - how you, your parents, your grandparents would feel when seeing your important cultural figures treated like this by the US.

As you have understood by now, changing the depiction is not suddenly okay when the Greek gods now have the palest skin with blue eyes and blond hair. No, that's still racist, and Greeks have been repeatedly told that they are lesser for not looking like the beauty ideals these northern countries projected onto our gods.

Asking for accurate god depictions is a matter of wanting your culture to be treated like.... not a prop, for once. Everyone is free to interact and relate with the Greek culture but when you take the Greek culture and its depictions out of the equation, then the whole thing becomes "playing with dolls", and a fandom (as is the case already for the US).

The Greek gods have been used by Westerners in the past to promote White supremacy, and today they are used by Westerners to combat it; but it still happens in the most divorced sense from the Greek culture. USians are still sooo hesitant to REALLY look at another culture that they'd rather lose common sense (aka, depict gods as the locals see them for millennia) than not white-knight for their fellow Westerners. It's actually infuriating that progressives in the US still miss the mark when it comes to combating US neo-colonialism, and whatever elements left in their culture from colonizing European countries.

And how can we tell the Greek gods are used as props in this US political climate? Simple. They themselves will tell you "It's okay to depict those gods however you like because 1. They can transform 2. They have been worshipped by people of different appearances 3. Greeks can have more than one appearance 4. They are not real. " Then, you tell them "Then why don't you depict Chinese, Indian, Nigerian pantheons whoever you like today? These pantheons all have the above four conditions apply. (No. 4 depending on your beliefs)" And when you strip those first layers, they tell you the actual root cause: "But Chinese, Indian and Nigerian people are still oppressed. Plus, non-white people need to see themselves in media, so here is the chance!"

So, they admit that their only guide for how disrespectful they will be to one's heritage figures is actually the oppression status of that minority (just!) in the US. (Which shows they still don't give a shit about Greeks, cause otherwise they'd still know that Greeks still face bigotry in the US for how they look, how their names are, their customs) . To POC in the US: The moment your oppressors believe your oppression is gone, expect your pop culture to forget (again) all respect for your ancient gods and treat them like cool "new" products for their capitalist game.

And the above discussion paints the Greek culture and Greek figures as a culture-less empty slate, that can be made to represent every person in the whole world. It's US culture, even! But Greek culture is hideous actually, and the Greeks are racist brutes who get in our hair the whole time. Fuck the Greek people and their ancestors' depictions. Greek mythology is a product of no culture, actually, and we can treat the gods like self-inserts in our favorite fanfic. And this is totally not a colonialist mindset! Greeks are not robbed and genocided anymore, and we gave them "white" status in our country a few decades ago (but these ethnic hairy people are still not the same as us, obviously!), and the strings we pull to control Greece are not visible anymore to our own people, so we're good 😊

And, just to be clear: Greek gods are ethnically Greek, as every other [insert cultural descriptor] gods are from that certain culture. The Greek people consider themselves literal progeny of those gods. The first Greeks were born of the gods. Even today we call ourselves Hellenes because one of the first Greeks, the man Hellen, who was born of the gods. If the Greek gods don't express Greek cultural norms, and POVs, and ways of thinking about the world, and are not part of Greek history, what the hell are part of?? Cantonese culture? Do they represent Scandinavian ancient values perhaps....? Do they follow the philosophy of a First Nations tribe?? (This is more a matter of culture, not appearance since various people can be part of a culture. However, it needs to be said, because Westerners are willfully blind to common sense at this point.)

See this video from a Greek Canadian on Greek gods being ethnically Greek

To address one last thing: One person said "why didn't you say anything about how the gods were designed in the first game?" Well, I had made a post about it but some told me "noo they didn't change their race, they just have different colors like green, blue, pink, dark brown, and grey for an artistic touch". I was like "whatever, nobody knows, I have a life to live" so I deleted that post and didn't dwell too much on it. But the anti-colonialist message was the same as in this post, so that's another chance to highlight it.

#hades game #hades 2 #hades game 2 #answered #appearance

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