#a comforting gaze

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

L'Aigle à deux têtes, directed by Jean Cocteau, 1946 // A Comforting Gaze, painted by Frank Craig, 1910

[lunargarden-art]

"you'll slay the ladies with your smile!" *proceeds to smile

[ispyspookymansion]

no non lesbian button sorry! you can vote here!

[titanebaby]

i am normal about the broken mirror in button house

[spongynova]

Spock needed comfort, not that he said it. Bones isn't easy to fool, though. SO it a blanket, plushy and hot beverage situation!

For @starrycrowz

[ghosty-schnibibit]

my opinion about the watcher news basically boils down to this:

watcher is screwing over a huge portion of its fanbase with this move considering how many people within it are teenagers who may not have access to streaming services, low-income adults who can't afford yet another streaming service (if any), and international fans who couldn't sign up for a US based streaming service even if they wanted to. it's okay to be angry about this, especially if you're one of those people who now can't support shows you loved or will be unable to see any of those shows going forward because of it.

and

youtube's payout to creators has dwindled in recent years to the point that it is impossible to fund the kind of productions watcher makes purely through it, and in order to sustain a company of 40+ people they need a more stable source of income not reliant on ads from outside companies and patreon, which, in this case, means a pivot to streaming. it's okay to be upset that creators you like have to turn to such methods to continue funding their work, whether you have the means to support them through these avenues or not.

and

if the early reactions to this move are any indication, watcher will probably not get the fan buy-in they anticipated and in all likelihood the new streaming site will either fail within a year or two because it isn't making enough money and take the company with it or they'll be bought out by a larger company and have their shows archived or deleted for tax purposes like what's happened to roosterteeth. it is okay to be scared by that potential future and seek to preserve as much content as you can before that happens.

are all statements that can and should coexist

[bumblingbabooshka]

TUVOKTOBER Day 2: Lunch Break [Interrupted]

[schmweed]

[naffeclipse]

do you think you’ll ever write about the scene where Grease introduces MC to his home, because that’s absolutely hilarious and i’m dying at the mental image of this scary oil demon proudly displaying what appears to be a murder basement from Silent Hill, all like “this is my home ;) do you like it ;) ;) ;)”

Oh, absolutely. I have a loose plotline but that's a scene that unfolds to poor MC's detriment.

[threadcountart]

I love the relationship between The Wildmother and Orym and Fearne. It’s not worship, it might not even be the road to worship, but there’s something there. They’ve communicated, she’s given gifts. They know (hope, now) that she’s watching them.

Before Fearne and Orym were Bell’s Hells, she asked them “Why are you here?” The Wildmother told Orym there is so much in the world she would have him see, and she gave him a seed to carry. Months later she’d let him smell the scent of Will of again and she would bless Orym’s sword now turned Seedling, The Wayward Pilgrim. Fearne knows there’s something between her friend and this goddess. Fearne offered a gold coin in The Wildmother’s temple as thanks. At Uthodurn she offers The Wildmother’s own flowers at her shrine in Uthodurn and asks the goddess (“Hey bitch”) to tell Orym that the rest of the team is okay. Fearne does not know if Orym is okay. But she doesn’t say that. That night, Orym feels a comforting gaze on him as he takes watch and he dances with a forest’s nature spirits.

It’s amazing that both Fearne and Orym prayed to the Wildmother for the first time around the same day of each other, both not really knowing if they were doing it right or if the Wildmother was listening, and she answered.

[kaurwreck]

have yall ever noticed in osamu dazai's entrance exam that ranpo cuts to the heart of dazai within moments of meeting him, weighs him against the feather in his gaze, decides it neither too heavy nor light, and then says, simply, unfeignedly, deliberately, "Oh, that's nice. Anyway, welcome to the Agency."

and dazai, despite smoothing himself shapeless under ranpo's scrutiny, is rattled, slipping aside his noh mask to self-soothe by asking kunikida about ranpo's skill. because the radio static crackling along his spine can't be the sensation that he's been caught, or ranpo would have renounced or redressed or recoiled from the snake in his home— so it must be no longer human, buzzing and frustrating such and such skill ranpo set on him, and this placidity is a facade to save face. ranpo couldn't have seen what dazai didn't deign to show him, however much the thought briefly excites dazai.

except then kunikida explains that ranpo's skill is to deduce the truth of a case just by looking at it, and dazai is momentarily stunned, the static roaring in his drums as muscle memory swallows piqued yearning and spits bitter incredulity. even if there were a skill that could crack him apart to out the pluck meat that might reassure him he's made of flesh beneath the chitin, there is no exception to his nullification.

even as the blackened grief encroaches like ennui around dazai's edges, ranpo is calling them, promising them the answer they asked for, and no more than that much. he asks dazai for his glasses (the glasses precious to him, typically on his person, but in that moment, somewhere else), and dazai is coaxed by his curiosity and ranpo's beckon.

and because dazai is still a pitiable creature prone to wanting, he leans towards the taunting lure and takes it between his fingers while holding his breath to brace against the certain-to-be-crushing disappointment.

and instead, substantiation brokering little argument. ranpo can deduce the truth by looking at it. and as dazai's own discernment reverse engineers ranpo's conclusion, he finds no fault in it.

dazai's rhapsody enlivens him in the car with Kunikida, the well of him overflowing with the salvific implications that moments prior he was pinned, writhing in place, by someone sincerely seeing him, who was satiated by enough substance to then look away, who wasn't the least surprised to see wriggling, living flesh in the shape of him.

dazai's so beside himself that when kunikida remarks that he's never seen dazai marvel over someone else's skills like that before, dazai scarcely lies to him when he says lots of things take him by surprise, like when he tried to pick up a clam with his chopsticks, and it was still alive, startling him.

kunikida, who also notices more than he's given any credit for, dismisses dazai's third perspective, depersonalized, dehumanized, and disassociated clam metaphor, and says: "You seemed taken aback that someone had the ability to see and know all."

to which dazai responds with the same seamless and subtly mean spirited deflection he tends towards whenever he's suddenly feeling vulnerable.

but yes, he is taken aback. it's worldview shattering, not unlike when chuuya incited him, or oda shrugged at him, or when kunikida would, later, see a lock without any key (a climax without any hope) and create one himself.

ranpo saw him, saw who he'd been, and said, with prejudice: "Anyway, welcome to the Agency."

because I didn't until a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't stopped thinking about it.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

byakuya togami is someone who suffered through a competition that didn't recognize family ties or status, and so in the events of thh he believes he exists as a being outside of the game - not that he thinks he's not a participant, but he's more like someone who is above all the others. someone who's seen this scenario before and knows how it goes, and can know the characters well enough to predict all the plot twists. his actions of chapter 2 are exactly for the reason he said; to make things more interesting, to purposely throw a wrench into the investigation and raise the stakes for everyone, himself included, because he is someone who exists outside the spheres of existence for all these people. he never doubted that he wouldn't have been able to save himself at the end of it, because the characters - as bumbling as they were - would have figured it out. he can manipulate the corpse because it is a doll to him, because chihiro was never a 'real' person in his eyes. and neither was anyone else.

(even kyoko and makoto were characters, albeit annoying, observant ones. the ones that looked out of the pages and back at the reader, that you can't help but see parts of yourself in, flaws and all, until they look back at you and point out all the flaws you never noticed in yourself. they're always surprising him, being unpredictable, and it makes this game feel less like a contrived theater play and more like a real competition).

what chapter 4 does is it destroys those conceptions. aoi literally slaps him into reality, because she should have been just another character beneath him, outside of his realm of existence, someone who never should have been able to even dream of interacting with him in such away. he can really get hurt here. he doesn't get shaken up by it, but it irks him. he thinks he knows everything about everyone involved, because for his life up until that point, he's had to learn and know, had to roughly understand the thoughts and drives of the common masses so they can be manipulated and the beliefs and motives of people like him so he could outdo his siblings.

but then during the trial, he gets surprised, he gets proven wrong, and he doesn't understand, and it needs to be explained to him by someone he previously considered lesser. because despite everything that he's done and accomplished, he has never tried to understand the meaning of human connection and just how far people might be willing to go for the sake of those bonds - and without that understanding, he is no better than any of the others around him.

[transgenderfivepebbles]

the thing no one tells you about birding is that you start developing comfort species. like comfort characters but for birds. and when it's not the right time of year for them you'll be sad because your comfort bird isn't here

[tagapagharaya]

I have not read To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods, so I cannot speak about its contents.

I can, however, speak about the utterly vile way people are talking about Molly X. Chang, a Chinese woman.

Can someone explain to me why they think calling a Chinese woman a comfort woman as an insult makes them the morally upright party in this situation?

The way this person, and others who echo this line, is using the term comfort woman as if it means traitor — in particular, a woman who betrays her own people to demean herself for the pleasure of their colonizers — is abhorrent and ahistorical.

Let me set the record straight: A comfort woman is a woman (or a girl, some as young as twelve-years-old) forced or tricked into sexual enslavement by the Imperial Japanese Armed Forces in occupied countries and territories (e.g. China, Korea, Taiwan, Burma, Indonesia, the Philippines), and even Japan itself, before and during World War II.

These women and girls were kept in "comfort stations" where they would be raped, physically abused and tortured by as many as 40 Imperial Japanese soldiers in a single night. Every night. For what reason? As "stress relief" for the soldiers.

In the mornings, they were forced to do backbreaking domestic labor for the Imperial Japanese garrisons, and at night they would be raped, beaten and tortured. They were given little food and kept in unsanitary conditions. Venereal disease was rampant. Many comfort women became infertile because of sexual violence and venereal diseases. Many women became pregnant during their enslavement, and were still not exempted from the nightly rapes. Many women miscarried and were not given medical attention.

I would remind you that the term comfort woman includes girls, some as young as twelve-years-old.

The level of dehumanization was so extreme that they were treated as inventory.

Comfort women are victims of colonial violence.

To this day, the Japanese government denies that the comfort women were sexually enslaved. Thousands of comfort women never received justice or reparations for the physical, psychological and emotional suffering they were subjected to.

The narrative that comfort women were volunteers or professionals, that they were treated well and compensated fairly, that they got rich from it, is historical revisionism peddled by the Japanese right-wing to deny its war crimes. This exact narrative is used to deny the victims of colonial violence justice.

So to see the term comfort woman used as an insult against a Chinese woman (of Manchu and Hui descent, no less) and to pretend it means she's "in love with her ancestors' colonizers and betrays her own people because of it (through her writing)" — an "Imperial Japan dickrider," if we're being crass — is vile and disgusting.

What do these people think they're accomplishing exactly? How are they criticizing an alleged "colonizer romance" novel by parroting the misogynist and racist historical revisionism of a real life former colonial power to demean a woman of color?

[pawyuta]

𖦁ׅ ࣪ ׂ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 . . ៵ ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆

‘when i talk to you oh, cupid walks right through, and shoots an arrow through my heart . . ꒰ ♪ ˊ͈ ﾛ ˋ͈ ꒱ ੭ ~ and i sound like a loon, but don't you feel it too ? confess i loved you from the start . . ಇ’

[antoinettesb]

You put the stars to shame

Rex x f reader (no body descriptions)

(this is inspired by one of the Gale romance scenes from BG3. Also, you should listen to this song whilst reading. It is important!!!!)

Warnings: sfw, feelings of being unworthy of love; feelings of being inferior, replacable; angst (?); comfort ♡ (with kiss)

Info: Rex x reader, y/n story; written from a female pov; no explicit description of body. (ALSO this is my first written story hehe), fluff

Content: Star gazing, getting emotional, deep talk, comforting Rex

Under the vast canvas of the night sky, Rex and you sat in a sacred silence, cradled by the embrace of darkness and stars. You were surrounded by the celestial beauty of the stars and gazing at the lake in front of you, which reflected the beautiful scenery of the night sky.

The quietude between you whispered of an unspoken connection that transcended the bounds of war and duty. But truly, your connection was so much more. And the intimate moment you shared, whilst sitting next to each other, was a vivid depiction of it.

Your gaze was wandering off, enjoying the comfort of the night. Suddenly, you heard a heavy sigh of your significant other.

Rex's voice, tentative yet laden with a profound weight, finally cut through the quietude. "Y/n, I can't help but feel I'm not enough for you. I'm... I'm just a clone, easily replaceable. You deserve more than I can give." He frowned slightly, remembering the haunting memories of losing his brothers, one by one.

You turned to him, your eyes mirroring the glittering constellations above. "Rex, you are everything to me. More than a mere clone. Dear, you're the beating heart in a sea of uniformity." Softly, you placed your hand on top of his.

A somberness crept into Rex's gaze. He flinched when he felt your soft touch, pulling away to point at the lake in front of you, which reflected the stars. "But you're like the stars, Y/n. As beautiful as the cosmos itself. I wish I could give you the world, lay it at your feet. I could do that, if I was granted the opportunity to do so." His gaze fell onto you, meeting your soft and loving face. Maker, you wanted to take his worries off of him. Of course, you could never fully understand how he was feeling on the inside. You both shared quite a different background. Still, you loved this man from the bottom of your heart.

You gently cupped his face, your thumb tracing a line across the hardened features of his face. "Rex, I don't want the world. I... I don't need the universe at my feet... I only want you. The man I fell in love with, the one who's held my heart through it all."

Rex's eyes flickered with self-doubt, tears starting to form. "Mesh'la, you're... you're like a goddess to me. A celestial being. I feel inferior of loving you."

Your voice, a soothing melody, resonated in the quiet night. "It doesn't matter where you come from. What matters is who you choose to be. I want you, Rex. No one else."

Rex's longing was palpable. "But Y/n, I want to be better for you. I want to give you everything."

Your eyes glistened with tenderness. "You already have, Rex. Your love is everything. I don't need the world; I only need you. You're all I could ever ask for."

Rex persisted, his words laced with a sense of unworthiness. "But....Do you wish me to be more? To give you more?"

Your expression softened, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. How could you make him truly understand how kriffing beautiful he was? He was perfect. His strict yet soft and forgiving eyes. His loving soul. And so much more.

The intimate vulnerability he revealed to you deeply touched you. "Rex, I don't want any of that. I only want you, just as you are. You are enough. You are perfect. Besides....... I love you." You put your hand onto his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "I love you too, Mesh'la". He answered with all honesty.

Rex, on the verge of another argument, was silenced by your touch, as you leaned in for a soft, intimate kiss. The both of you closed your eyes, embracing the tenderness.

In that moment, beneath the vast expanse of stars, he felt the depth of your love, a love that saw beyond the uniformity of clones and recognized the unique soul within him. The kiss spoke louder than words, an unspoken promise that your love would endure, transcending the limitations of your shared existence.

Slowly, you broke the kiss, noticing how Rex wrapped his arms around you, to hold you close. He exhaled heavily yet calmly. He felt your love, watching you and the way you smiled at him with a gaze that was filled with love and affection, your eyes glistening.

"You put the stars to shame" was all he could whisper to you, with a shy smile and a trembling voice. He leaned his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours tenderly.

"Let's stay here a little longer." He chuckled lightly, squeezing you lovingly, only to later on walk back home and fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling your warmth and unconditional love for each other. You wished that you could stop time.

(Sorry for any weird phrases whatsoever, English isn't my native language:D. Hope you had fun reading though)