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rosemaryandbrine · 6 months

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after browing terror tumblr all day and reading fics, these are the conclusions i've come to regarding my faves, can you tell me if they're correct? (still wimping out from seeing the show bc the ones where Everyone Dies at the End make me so sad)

Edward: seems cold, standoffish, uptight, awkward - definitely is all those things because he's British™️, but an anxious softie underneath it all

Jopson: seems soft and is, but is also stubborn and proud and arrogant, very Proper, if this were Downton Abbey he'd be the youngest butler ever, the definition of repressed Yearning

Sol: pure of heart (mostly), dumb of ass, wants to do the Right Thing but often ends up doing the complete opposite due to horniness and bad vibe reading skills, he'll get there eventually, soft pet names for everyone he loves (*cough* Tommy *cough*), definitely gives the best bear hugs

Tommy: quiet, Odd vibes but is just lonely and sad, his number one wish is to be important to someone, touch-starved as anything, also wants to do the Right Thing

Irving: Scottish accent (don't ask me how I got this), quiet, reserved, a little judgemental, almost always having a full-on gay crisis, can remember whole chapters of theological books without much effort but blanks every time Sol takes his shirt off

Georgie: baby slut (affectionate), severe daddy issues and a praise kink for days, just wants to be someone's good boy

Bryant: big bear who looks like he could snap you in two, secret romantic, soft for Georgie only, in the AUs he's always going to be in law enforcement of some kind don't @ me

(the last two are purely fanon since i couldn't see much for them beyond what you wrote and the occasional artwork 😅)

I ABSOLUTELY can, this is like catnip to me!

(Under a cut because I rambled)

Gonna go point by point:

Little - I wouldn't say cold necessarily but his position as first lieutenant definitely isolates him and to me, as a person... somewhere on the autistic spectrum, I see a lot of those traits in Ned as well. He cares deeply about the men under his command but has no real way to relate to them or position himself in terms of leadership. He does mean well!! He is trying! It's just that every single day, he gets emails.

Jopson - see Jopson has ruthlessly tried to repress any emotional softness but it does show itself at times - he's a caretaker at his core, at times to his own detriment (lots of times, in fact). He clings to propriety and The Rules because they keep you safe, at least superficially. Until they don't. He's also ferociously loyal to Crozier, the ships' captain, in a way that edges towards henchman. Like it could go very badly if Crozier WASN'T a decent man. you're absolutely right that he'd be Downton Abbey's youngest butler, and he would be INSUFFERABLE about it. I love him very much.

sol - (mostly) pure of heart and dumb of ass, you get him!!! He's a good dog. He's very invested, I think, in the image of himself as a marine. It's been his identity his whole adult life, and there's a sense of resentment mingled with pride, because marines were considered very expendable in the navy, occupying a weird position as enforcers of military discipline but also being extremely low on the ships' totem pole, there to do the grunt work and mocked by the sailors for being idiot conscripts. and this leads sol to THINK he knows what he's doing when he mutinies because who else is going to look after himself and his men but him, and yeah, he cannot read a vibe to save his life, because he has blinkers shaped like masculinity and the Victorian navy on and they are. extremely hard to remove. (He definitely gives Tommy All the pet names. That's his sweetheart, his queen, his pretty petal)

Tommy Armitage light of my life sun of my days - you get him too, he's also in this weird liminal space where he's a steward but he DESPERATELY wants to be a marine (literally, "he longs for it," hickey says at one point, and when hickey's got you figured out: oof), but he's deaf so he can't but on terror they take him in anyway? But he's never quite one of them, and he knows it. And then there's Sol, who is everything he wanted to be and also everything he jist *wants.* He hero worships Tozer and I think is pretty strongly implied in the show itself to be deeply in love with him. Also, and very importantly: he's a boy who is a gun.

Irving - no but you're RIGHT because he was Scottish! and historically probably would have had a slight Scottish accent - he was posh but not posh enough to have been sent to boarding school and have it trained out of him - but Ronan Raftery plays him with an English accent on the show, (possibly because he's Irish and I think possibly doing a Scottish accent might be hard as they're similar cadences and it could easily slip??) He is deeply spiritually Scottish however even then. He is always always always in a state of gay crisis and FURIOUS about it, and clings to religion as a way through. It. Does not really help.

Georgie and Bryant get answered together because You Know - so Bryant is well, a bit of a dick. He's the same rank as Tozer, a Marine Sergeant, on the opposite ship and he wears it comfortably, with a touch of the same arrogance. He's less lazy than Sol is, and independent enough that I don't personally think he would ever have mutinied, at least not with Hickey. I think this lean towards Authority is why he gives such strong law enforcement vibes. That and the fact that he's a prick (affectionate).

He's is absolutely only soft for Georgie - in the show their one scene together is everything to me and sent me into full derangement about them and caused me to fill up half the ao3 ship tag. They're just talking on the deck but it packs in so much stuff, and it's the only scene where Bryant shows any doubt or vulnerability, and he shows it to Georgie! Who is in fact the Sweetest Angel and like you say, just wants to be good, and has a puppy crush on Bryant a mile wide. Georgie is also the ships' boy, the youngest and lowest ranked of all the sailors, and Bryant, in his own way, is kind to him when he absolutely doesn't have to be, and also teases him a little bit? It's cute. I'm so normal about these two I swear.

baby slut (affectionate), yes yes yes. As you say it's a lot of fanon because they're very much minor characters but also Georgie came to me in a dream and told me it was true.

thank you so much for this ask, it was a lot of fun to answer!! and also if you decide you would like to watch the show (completely understand re: everyone dies at the end, it's a Lot) I think there's a link to a Google drive somewhere out there that I could find 😉

#answered #the terror #lads lads lads (homoerotic)#mwah!!!

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swordoaths · 1 year

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As I do quite like the interpretation of dwarves having tattoos (as seen in the hobbit films), I am thinking about Fíli getting tattoos after the Battle of the Five Armies...

For Fíli, his tattoos would have been directly linked to his fighting in the battle and to acknowledge his survival, despite receiving grave injuries from Azog. In other words, the whole process of his being tattooed would have been paying homage to his valiant deeds as a warrior and surviving against all odds. He would have been tattooed by another dwarf, and it would have been both a very personal ritual (in the sense that these tattoos represent his story and his deeds) and also a bonding one between his kin (in the sense that this is something in which dwarves participate as part of their cultural identity).

Much of dwarven culture is something deeply personal and unifying amongst themselves and not readily shared with other races. Think of things like dwarves' true names, their language, etc. Tattooing (the art) and the tattoos themselves would have been viewed in much of the same light. As such, none beyond kin would understand the meaning of Fíli's tattoos. Not only that, but the placement for Fíli's tattoos doesn't really lend well to being regularly seen in the first place, which is also an intentional and personal choice for Fíli. We'll get to tattoo placement in a bit.

The injuries Fíli received in battle were pretty serious, and as such, it would have required an equally serious adherence to letting his body recover. He's not jumping up immediately after battle and carrying on as though nothing happened. We could argue he needed powerful Elvish healing along with a great deal of medical care, but even with all that, I do view Fíli's recovery as an incremental one.

That said, he doesn't get tattooed until long after the battle had ended and he had fully recovered. And with that, there is a sense that this honor was a long time coming. Since his abdomen and back would carry heavy scarring from his wounds for the rest of his life, I do think he would have gotten tattoos around the scars as a sign of survival. In other words, you'd see his scars and the tattoos around them as this visual representation of facing death and surviving.

I don't really have good visual representations of what's in my head for Fíli's tattoos, though I favor geometric shapes and rune tattoos that serve as symbols. They would cover the length of each side of his torso from hip to just below the underarm, with some off-shoots that come in across his abdomen and back that symbolically suggest the tattoos (a sign of survival/life) sprang forth from the scars (a run in with death). These off-shoot tattoos do not physically touch or go over his scars.

*I am most likely going to add to this when I get proper visuals, but I needed to get my thoughts down for the moment!

#&. fíli headcanons

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amrv-5 · 1 year

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HI PARKER!!! trope meme ask:

time loops/time wonkiness, modern AU, noir AU (I know the answer but STILL), genderswap/genderfuckery, major character death, there was only one bed

LISAAAAAAAA these are all so GOOD????? THANK YOU!!!!!!!! This is JUST what I needed to focus on rn AHHHHHH. So good. So good. All answers are MASH btw of course. I got a one track brain rn:

Time loops/time wonkiness:

Yes. Yes. Love. Yes. Figurative time loops or time dilation or whatever? Where it just FEELS like things are taking forever but they aren’t? Love it. Literal time fuckery? Love it even more. I particularly love to think about the idea of a time loop in MASH as it relates to the sort of meta-angle of syndication. The idea that these characters are all, in some way, trapped reliving the same days of the war over and over for as long as we are watching them…that’s the stuff. Invokes something interesting to me about viewership / media voyeurism that I haven’t really pulled apart but. Fun. Makes me think. Love to play with. Ripe for tragic effect in-fic, fascinating at a meta-level. Fun fun fun fun fun.

Modern AU:

Hard no, I say, writing one.

To be fair I only started playing with the idea to see if I thought it could be done. Generally my opinion of a modern MASH AU is that it divorces the characters from the circumstances that shape them so entirely that it might as well be playing with OCs. They are so deeply the products of their time and place that I really hate to see them taken out of their context.

…That said, I’m finding that the modern AU I was chopping at started to work when I shoved them into a desperate modern situation. Instead of sticking them in the front lines of a land war, I shoved them into the front lines of modern American health care. Hawkeye and BJ as trauma/CT surgeons fighting a losing battle against the crushing bureaucracy of the American medical industry kind of…works? IMO? Not nearly as well as their original context, but it does allow Hawkeye to be desperate and angry and disgusted by the perversion of his profession for the profit of massive corporate interests, and it lets BJ be silently resigned to hell, and the both of them are trapped for a certain number of years in a way by medical debt and the fact that what the hell do you do if you quit being a surgeon, when so much of your life and identity revolves around your career? It works because it lets them field despair and lean on each other and shove against massive faceless machines of injustice that profit off exploitation of their skills. Tl,dr; I’m a hypocrite for disliking modern AUs, it’s true, I admit. I'll never say never, but it'd have to be done really intentionally to appeal to me, I think.

Noir AU:

LOVE!!!!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!! I think it’s soooo sexy. I love noir, I’m a huge Raymond Chandler fan, and kind of subscribe to his writing approach in that frequently vibes and images are more the point of noir than watertight plot. There is very little I enjoy more than the type of stylized, image-focused writing that noir invites. I’ve been hacking away at a noir Beejhawk AU (AS YOU KNOW!!!!!!!! AH!!!!! I am working on. So many things. Help) and a consistent source of fun has been writing these smoky, dim, tense, sexy, ambient scenes where everybody’s circling each other and nobody is on quite the same page. Lots of Hawkeye standing around being lean and sharp and clever and melancholy, and lots of BJ being, and I’ve code-named him the Jackal in this fic where he’s a rouge and disillusioned beat cop with a gun to his head, sort of gleefully sadistic in moments. We know he’s got an in-canon capacity for violence that concerns and upsets him, and it’s been fun to let him take the limiters off and go a little wild with it. And of course how does guilt come back into play, because you KNOW it’s going to be there for him. Waiting. Always. Especially when he initially meets Hawk as a bit of an antagonist figure. God I gotta get back to writing this.

Genderswap/gender fuckery:

YES!!! No. Yes. [Parker is picky as usual alert] SOMETIMES I love it and sometimes it’s meh. I LOVE it when it seeks out to agitate borders of heteronormativity and make things queer. I think it’s soooo fun to get into characters’ psychology (obviously) and I love how many ways that gender swapping or gender fuckery can open itself up to questioning characters’ internal biases and assumptions. If it's just to make a gay ship straight w/no underlying interest in how that would change things, then nah.

That said I think BJ and Hawk are both sooooo fun to get genderfucky with. I think BJ is fun to use to see how he reacts to tearing down some of his intense 50s gender role feelings, and Hawkeye and his whole breeding kink (sorry) etc., so much fun. Drag is fun, gender fuckery is fun, crossing borders is fun, violating gender norms rules and is so cool and fun. I love queer people actually. Love to see it in fic. GET WEIRD W IT! I’ve decided this is actually a solid yes now that I’ve typed it out. GET WEIRD!!!!! I WANNA READ IT!!!!

Major character death:

NOOOOO AUUUUUGHHHHH. I will personally probably never write it (if it’s not temporary a la vampire!Hawk fic), but I think it CAN be done well but ouuuughhhhh. Hurts. Makes me soooo sad. I’m sure I’ve seen it done well but ohhhhhhhhhh.

There was only one bed:

Answered elsewhere but. I’ll say again that I FUCKING LOVE IT. Love pics that really delve into physical affection and one bed is soooo great for just. Everything about that. Accidental cuddling. Sharing space. Waking up wrapped in each other…..ooohhhhhhh I love. I love.

Thanks AGAIN for this ask it was soooooo fun to get to really sit down and think through these!!!!!!!!!!!

#this is so long I'm sorry #I GOTTA WRITE MORE NOIR!!!!!!#I gotta get through uhh. I have uhh #I have at last count 5 diff fics in progress right now I am so sorry #THANK YOU LISA!!!!!

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sitinursaheera-20 · 6 months

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✨ Navigating Life's Tapestry: A Journey of Digital Discovery and Personal Growth ✨

When I get some quiet time during the day, I frequently think back on how much digital media has shaped my experiences and identity, influencing my ideals of empathy and genuineness. I have experienced joy, adversity, and self-discovery along the way, all of which have added to the unique tapestry that makes up who I am. Authenticity and empathy are important to me, and I constantly try to approach life with kindness and honesty. Creating art in any form—visual, audio, or written—is something I'm extremely enthusiastic about. My capacity to empathize with people and comprehend their viewpoints is one of my strongest qualities. 🎨

I've had the good fortune to encounter a variety of situations that have profoundly impacted me throughout my life, such as working with kindergarteners, orphans, refugees, and children with autism, as well as conquering obstacles and disappointments. My principles of authenticity and empathy have been woven with lessons about tenacity, resilience, and the value of adaptation that I have learned from these events in a very special and meaningful way. Sulking in the enthralling world of the Turkish series is one of my favorite things to do. I may briefly escape the everyday grind of existence with these stories of love, betrayal, and forgiveness; they take me to faraway places with engrossing plots. I can totally immerse oneself in the characters' travels thanks to the beautiful tunes and fascinating narratives, which provide an enjoyable distraction. 📺

Time spent with my pet cat brings me comfort, even when it doesn't involve drama. I am reminded to appreciate the beauty in the ordinary times by her playful silly acts and loving purrs, which add warmth and comfort to my life. But Instagram is the one that really takes up a lot of space on my digital landscape. Instagram provides a glimpse into the diverse content of human experience with its never-ending flood of information, which ranges from funny kitten memes to thought-provoking religious insights. Because of the ingenuity and sincerity of the content makers that make up my feed, I frequently find myself scrolling through reels. 🐱

However, in the midst of the seemingly never-ending flood of content, I have had a fair amount of troubles. I can very clearly remember the moment when one SIM card started to cause me problems—I kept getting calls and texts from random numbers. I was forced to take precautions to safeguard my wellbeing and privacy as a result of this sobering reminder of the negative aspects of internet connectivity. Notwithstanding these obstacles, I don't want to waver in my conviction that the media has the ability to influence lives. It acts as a link between ourselves and the outside world, providing a forum for communication, education, and expressing ourselves. 🔒

I've been exposed to a variety of viewpoints and ideas through the media, which has expanded my perspective on the world. But it's critical to recognize the difficulties and dangers that come with being in a digital world. The media can inspire and educate people, but it can also reinforce delusional beliefs and feelings of inferiority. It's a two-edged sword that needs to be handled carefully and with wisdom. I'm enthusiastic about the chances I have to keep developing and learning in the future, on a personal and professional level. I'm dedicated to following my passions to the fullest and changing the world, whether it is via my artistic endeavors or by lending my support to people that I care about. 💡

I find consoling comfort in the visual media's embrace at times of overwhelm. I find that watching Turkish dramas with complex plots or browsing through Instagram memes featuring cats is a great way to decompress from the stresses and strains of daily life. In general, I think that our perceptions are shaped by our digital experiences, which are deeply entwined with our journey of discovering oneself and personal progress. Additionally, knowing that my story is continuously being written, I look back on my journey through this constantly changing terrain with curiosity, resiliency, and hope. 🌟 #DigitalJourney #AuthenticityAndEmpathy #MediaReflections

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bobbyfiend · 1 year

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I don't know how to solve the following problem. The issue is: you're a member of a marginalized social group (e.g. POC, LGBTQ+, political minority, woman, etc.) And you're trying to gain status and rights for your group and make membership in the group positive and helpful.

What do you do about non- group members (especially members of the dominant social groups) wanting to help, give advice, etc.? Options I've seen and have thought about:

1. Be open to all suggestions, let anyone with good ideas and apparently earnest good will participate in shaping your group's direction. Pro: aves to wide range of knowledge, skills, ands labor. Cons: risk of having lots of influential people in the group be (at least nominally) from the very groups causing oppression, disenfranchisement of your group's members from leadership and overall direction, recapitulation of the oppression dynamic within your group.

2. No participation from dominant-group (ie oppressor group) members. Pro: not the con stuff above. Con: restrict expertise, knowledge, skills, etc. to whatever is already in your group, further alienation of the dominant group (reasonable response: fuck those guys anyway, but on the other hand it can sometimes be helpful to have goodwill from a more powerful group), creating a groupthink-like echo chamber in your group (having been in various groups in my life, this one seems like a big potential problem).

3. Nonmembers can sort of participate, but not like group members; they can sometimes offer thoughts but need to be quiet when told to, and are excluded from some kinds of discussions. Implicit: the only people who actually have a right to participate are those who share the identities or experiences or whatever that make them actual group members. Others are allowed limited participation at the group members' (or leaders') pleasure. Pro: most of the pros of #2 (maybe watered down a little?) Con: most of the vibes of #2 (maybe ameliorated a bit), alienation of some of the allies from the dominant group who might not want to participate as only second-class citizens in something they care about.

There are probably lots of other, smarter models but I don't know them so...

#2 seems like what I see enacted in some online spaces. It looks like a reasonable compromise. There are some dangers (at least I currently think so), including the phenomenon of "friendly fire." Sometimes members of the marginalized group can attack the dominant-group allies, often for insufficient or imperfect commitment to advancement of the marginalized group's agenda. This might look like gatekeeping, identity-shaming, "putting them in their place," "if you really cared about X you would do Y," or even just terminology arguments.

Of course, friendly fire can alienate the most helpful allies, removing their knowledge, skills, advocacy, and support from the movement. An underlying problem, however, is that it is really difficult to know if an ally actually is an ally. We have all seen trolls, moles, etc. wanting to participate in the direction or even just discussions in marginalized groups, only to find out they are acting in bad faith. A related problem is that some sincere allies are only allies up to a (problematic) point, or only if they get specific personal benefits from allyship.

This isn't just a question of how best to advance the agenda of a marginalized group, it is also a signal/noise problem with both conscious and unwitting deception and bad actors. I don't know the best way to do things. As a person whose identities are mostly from dominant/oppressor groups, but who cares deeply about social (and regular) justice, I'm very interested in this set of issues.

#social justice #poc #advocacy #groupthink #moles #trolls #marginalized groups #LGBTQ #immigrants #minorities #conundrum #the poll has nothing to do with the post

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imbricare · 2 years

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The results of this house quiz are tremendously well-written – taking both Gryffindor and Slytherin profiles into account, it becomes clear why the Sorting Hat hesitated between these two houses for Harry.

I'll post the full profiles below (with quotes pertinent to Harry highlighted in bold), and then dive into a quick analysis of Harry's Gryffindor and Slytherin traits in a second post because it's gonna be long haha!

Gryffindor & Slytherin profiles under the cut:

Slytherin

Slytherins are linked to identity, changing themselves to meet their needs and the wants of the world around them. They have specific people that are Theirs, and their circle of Actual Trust may be rather small, even if their friend/associates/resources group is a wide network.

Slytherins are tied to wanting, craving, and not necessarily in a bad way or in a way that’s “ambition”. Slytherins are a house made up of people who want something or someone or some goal desperately or are made up of a myriad of little wants, but also struggle with the idea of worth and whether or not they have done enough to deserve the things they want. Sometimes, these wants are secret. Slytherins are often caught up in this wanting and this worth, and cannot see that they are already loved, completely and wholly, for who they are.

When you care for someone you care for them with all of you, you are inherently a protective house like hufflepuffs for those that you care about most, and for all your wanting so so so many of you are beautiful creators (the worlds and story ideas slytherins have just roaming around in their brains?? amazing!).

My advice to slytherins, if I can give some without being asked hahaha oops, is to recognize that for all the shapeshifting of the self you do, you can be exactly who you want to be, if you just give yourself permission. Who would you be in a dark room without any mirrors? How would you dance? How would you dress, for just yourself? Of course, that doesn’t mean you have to change your life tomorrow. It just means, sometimes, starting in little ways, take back a little bit of ground from the world. “This part is me. This part is mine. You aren’t allowed to have it.”

It can be quiet. But you are worth so much, and you are yours. You are just as much of a person as anyone else, and have already earned love, because you never had to earn it in the first place.

Gryffindor

Gryffindors believe in innate worth, innate characteristics, sort of your personality is that way because That Is Who You Are. Similar to Hufflepuffs in this way, anti-slytherin experience haha.

Gryffindors, unlike Hufflepuffs, are an external versus internal change maker. Because of this, they are often more broadly idealistic than hufflepuffs (think range, although they both hold their core values very deeply, hufflepuffs are on a smaller, more condensed scale whereas gryffs will spread themselves thinner. Puffs do not have to change the world, rather they create a Home in which to put their world into, whereas a lot of Gryffindors struggle with feeling that they aren’t doing Enough, not Enough good, not Enough love. That the failures of the world are in part because they haven’t done enough to help personally).

Gryffindors are very solid with their identity. While slytherins/ravenclaws will see their body/their reflection in a mirror, a scientific fact of life or something they wish they could/can change and shape, Gryffindors (with some exceptions for gender, trauma, and mental illness) tend to be confused that there are answers other than “I see myself in the mirror.”

However, Gryffs can be performative, because while they see themselves, they need to be told that they are going in the right direction, they need to be loved, they need to help. Gryffindors will lose themselves a bit in an empty room, in isolation, moreso than hufflepuffs or ravenclaws.

They create and change the world around them FOR the world around them, and so the world can look at them and say “okay, you did it, its okay now.” In this way, they are closest to slytherins, seeking validation, seeking a legacy, even though they may not even do it/realize its for themselves. They do good, or they try to, based on how they have defined it for themselves.

They will care for you with all of them, if you earn it. They will hold you. But the voice in their head says “am I sure that this is what good looks like. Am I sure that this is enough.”

From your friendly neighborhood Hufflepuff, sometimes doing what you need to take care and save yourself is the best thing for the world. Maybe cook something, have a lil dance party. You are an important part of the world. Start small, and love that part the most. You can add on from there c:

Source

Now head over to this post to read a quick analysis of how this (especially the bolded parts) apply to Harry!

#OOC.#HARRY / META.

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notsogoodangel · 3 years

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“Dream SMP is the new Homestuck”- literally everyone old enough to remember Homestuck and is still in fandom communities.

Anyway, some explanations as to I chose the class I did under the cut

Purpled: Knight of Heart

“Those bound to the aspect of Heart are very concerned with their favorite subject: themselves. It wouldn't be a stretch to call them 'self-obsessed', but not necessarily in a negative way. They simply want to understand the one thing we all are stuck with for our entire lives, i.e. our own minds. Forging an identity is extremely important to the Heart-bound, and every decision and action goes toward building a coherent narrative of their own story.” (The Extended Zodiac) This sounds very Purpled when you consider he has always being alone, even when he wanted to make friends. He DEEPLY understands what he is good at and that has shaped and created his own narrative: he is an excellent PVP fighter, and nothing else. He is proud of that fact and doesn't hide it at all. Heart is essentially "soul"/what is inside of you, and he has found what is inside him and what makes him him.

As for the knight part “The Knight could be defined as one who serves [aspect] or one who serves through [aspect] for the betterment of others”. This combination of elements essentially creates a true knight "I offer myself for my own betterment and the betterment of others" with the "myself" part would be "fighter" because that how Purpled sees himself as.

Tommy: Page of Blood

I originally wanted to make him a Bard of Blood because “ Bards "allow destruction of [aspect]" or "invite destruction through [aspect]", and Blood is essentially connections and bonds, like family and friends, and we all know that Tommy always bring destruction of bonds by accident.

But in the end I chose Page of Blood because pages “provides others with [aspect]" or "creates [aspect]” because that is what Tommy does the best in the DSMP story: create connections and provide others with connections, whether is because people want to help him or because they hate him and those people are willing to help each other to stop Tommy. Tommy has always being able to create connections easily and the worst anyone could do was to isolate him, just look at the Exile Arc, he was nearly brought to suicide because he was all alone with the only people to connect with is the one person who hates connections, and Ghostbur (and Ranboo from time to time, specially after Tommy found Techno).

Also yes, I am dead set on giving Tommy the blood aspect because it’s a perfect title of him, all he has ever done was because of his connections and bonds with other, and all he has ever accomplish was thanks to his friends.

Tubbo: Mage of Time

Okay this one is a little weird, but hear me out. Time could be translated to experiences, but more than anything, Time players are goal-focus, which is what Tubbo is really good at. Most people think he is positive, always looking for the best outcome, but that is not true. Yes he does this things, but not because as a person he wants to help people, it’s because he is given a task and he is going to full-fill it. He is goal oriented and his goals always tend to be something along the lines of “keep X thing safe” or “help X do X”. If you need something to get done, you call Tubbo, and that's what Tommy has always done, that's what a lot of L'Manberg people did, they rely on Tubbo because they believed in him to get shit done. Tubbo has always being a support player, in video game terms, but he has never being passive. He is always doing something, whether is for him, although most of the time for someone else.

Mage is because "Mage benefits themselves with knowledge pertaining to [aspect]" and "guides by setting an example using knowledge pertaining to [aspect]" AKA Tubbo is always learning from experience, something that doesn't seem to be common in fucking DSMP. Tubbo rarely commits the same mistake twice. He is always making decisions that will either keep the most people safe or avoid doing a past mistake, even if they are usually not the wisest decisions.

Ranboo: Sylph of Space

Honestly, Ranboo was very hard, I wanted to make him a rogue/sylph, or a space/hope player.

First of all, Sylph is defined as "Sylph is thought to be one who heals [aspect] or one who heals through [aspect] for others" and Space implies life and creation. So you will think “why give Ranboo the “heals life and creation”, but that’s not it, it’s more of “Ranboo heals through creation”. The most notorious thing about Ranboo is his willingness to help pretty much everyone, but specially Tommy and Tubbo through resources. Which is in part why I wanted to make him a rogue, he distributes stuff to other players, but he doesn’t steal from others, he will rather die than to steal from others, specially those close to him.

Aside from that he fits Space player’s personalities remarkably well “They are patient, masters of the art of 'wait-and-see', and are inclined to take things as they come. That isn't to say that they're pushovers or willing to let injustice lie-they just choose their battles wisely.” (The Extended Zodiac) Which we all know that Ranboo is extremely passive and doesn’t do much of anything and while he doesn’t really say no, he still is careful about going with this, such as The Butcher Army, he was part of it, but he never actively participated. While hope is way more active, it may stand for a lot of what Ranboo does, but a key factor of Hope players is that they are willing to destroy if it meant that THEIR vision of a better future flourish, which is nothing all like him. He hopes to see betterment, but he hates the idea of other people being forced into anything. If destruction happens he will just watch most of the time, which is more of a Space player thing to do.

#homestuck #dream smp #dsmpstuck #tubbo dream smp #tommy dream smp #purpled dream smp #ranboo dream smp #tubbo #tommyinnit #purpled #ranboo #mcyt #angel's art #I have more ideas for this but I haven't flesh them out yet #also give me your own hot takes #love to see those #the minors

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whirlybirbs · 4 years

Text

✶ ——— MENDING ; d.d.

summary: something has unsettled din. you set to find out what. affections brew. * set post!chapter 11. contains spoilers! *

pairing: din djarin x gender nuetral!reader

word count: 1.8k of pure pining ‘n’ identity crises !

a/n: it’s another notes app fic, baby! the gif above is from this set by the lovely @thewaythisis! anyways, din can plow me like a field of wheat under the harvest moon whew (panting spongebob meme)

something is bothering him.

it would be a lie to say that din djarin was quiet soul — plainly put, he wasn’t.

he was, if anything, a purposeful and succinct soul who knew how to measure the weight of words when they were spoken. with all the little bell-like tinkers that came from his every step — beskar on beskar — quiet was not a fitting adjective to match that of din djarin. no. he was strong. sturdy. a chant of mando’a in the afternoon sun. intimidating.

something is definitely bothering him.

the ship is a wreck — you’re sure that alone is enough to strike a sore nerve with the mandalorian piloting the vessel. so, as he plots course for the little planet on the edge of nowhere that the striking bo-katan spoke of, you make work on what you can. reinforcing some structural plating, running diagnostics on the fuel-lining that runs beneath the floor plates, and welding the paneling the mon calamari engineer installed to cover the gaping hole in the side of the ship occupies you for a long while.

just the bright flicker of flame and your thoughts.

din hasn’t uttered a word since entering the ship.

you hope, at the very least, he’s taken the time to eat something away from your prying eyes.

the welding torch is hot in your gloved hands when you hear footsteps coming down the ladder into the swaying belly of the razor crest. you knew it was the wing equilibrium counter-weights the moment you took off. not much you can do about it from the inside.

the good news is that the rocking put the child right to sleep.

you pull your goggles down and watch as din djarin carefully carries the little woolen bundle to the hanging hammock within the small cot compartment. he’s exceedingly gentle, incredibly careful. once the child is inside, din dims the lights and closes the door.

you work your gloves off.

he sighs.

again, you can’t help but be struck with worry. the sort that nibbles on your heartstrings just enough to wring a flinch out of you.

“have you eaten?” he asks. his voice is even, almost cold.

you shake your head.

his helmet glints in the overhead light as he juts his chin to the cockpit; wordlessly, you stand and follow — swallows whole by his bulky shadow that looms over you as you hike yourself up the ladder.

din has done some mending of his own, it seems. the netting and twine that was keeping the dash steady had been removed. you can see the tedious, small welding marks from his own tool kit along the seams. you make a mental note to go over it later. in the corner, there’s a pile of the mess.

you land into the passenger’s seat with a huff.

the tube of protein paste that din offers you from his stash beneath the razor crest’s controls has you frowning. but, it’s bantha flavored. better than nothing. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine it being a piece of steak.

almost.

if a steak was cold, pureed, and poured into a jerky-shaped tube.

din is quiet when swings in his chair, turning to nearly face you. he stretches, straightening his back out, then he crosses his arms. his boots plant themselves on the floor. his stance is wide. his posture is sagging.

you swallow your meal.

“did you eat?” your voice feels small.

din nods.

hm.

“... are you hurt?”

more silence. finally, he shakes his head. you know it’s a lie — the last forty-eight hours have left you both with your fair share of lacerations and deep-tissue bruising. beneath the armor, you can only imagine the sort of bruises he’s gotten.

“... tired?”

“this checklist you’re doing,” he rasps out, head lulling to the side as he looks up at the ceiling, “you should be doing it on yourself.”

you scoff into your meal paste.

“maybe.”

a grunt.

silence follows the exchange for a few minutes. it’s once you’ve managed to choke down the entirety of the bantha-flavored mush that you speak again. it’s not courage the drives the question, but concern.

“be honest, din,” you breathe, “are you alright?”

his helmet turns, t-visor glaring at you in the dim light of the cabin. you can see his fingers, gloved and tucked neatly against his biceps, twitch. he inhales deeply. the beskar glimmers with the light of stars that pass by beyond the cockpit window.

he’s rather a sight to behold.

“no.”

you’re startled back to the moment.

when you speak, your voice is soft. the sort of soft that’s begun to erode din’s usual beskar-grade composure. he’s begun to waver, begun to hesitate around you. he finds he can’t help it. he’d grown quite fond of you and your innate ability to give a shit. you’re not asking because you want to get paid, because you expect something of him. no, you’re asking because it matters to you.

he’s finally starting to understand that after cycles and cycles of time spent trying to find the child’s true place in this mess of a galaxy. you’ve been traveling with him since before nevarro — before... before the covert’s split.

before he started to feel so alone.

and confused.

and angry.

so angry.

how many moments has he denied himself because of this armor? how much kindness, how much care? how many friendships has he ignored for the sake of the creed? how many loves have come and gone, as fickle as stardust? what has he missed?

... has he truly even missed anything? that is the way.

he is all sorts of swirling bitterness now, mouth pulled into a firm line beneath the lip of his helmet. to see those others — true mandalorians, ones with clan-names, with lineage-graced armor, who speak the tongue and have touched the soil of the place he has never called home, but always idolized — reveal their faces...

he’s one of them...

children of the watch...

din’s foot taps.

you lean forward.

“din...?”

“the others,” he speaks suddenly, almost in a bark, “called my clan a coven of zealots. fringe radicalists. they showed me their faces and —”

a ragged sigh.

suddenly, you’re beginning to understand.

he’s frustrated.

“i’ve lived my life under a strict code,” din continues, helmet tilted up the ceiling. he’s tracing the bolts with his dark eyes, “one that has given me a purpose, a family, a home. but i can’t help but begin to question the cost.”

you’re listening. you’re pulling your knees up, arms cradling them close. your expression is soft.

“i thought...” then, he lets out a gritted huff of frustration, “i — i never considered my practices to be radical. i thought they were as every mandalorian lived.”

your words are soft. “... in all fairness, your people are living in a diaspora, din. the empire scattered you all to the far corners of the galaxy. it wasn’t as if you were seeing your kin every weekend."

din grunts.

you roll the hem of your tunic between your fingers.

“why is this bothering you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life in armor.”

you frown. din’s head turns and you feel a sad look pull your brows together. you hadn’t... well. his mood is beginning to make a lot of sense now. the frustration, the quiet. all of it.

“i’ve never felt the sea breeze on my face,” he continues, “or... or the kiss of another person. all because i lived my life by the creed i was raised upon. and i was told upon breaking that creed, i’d no longer have a purpose. dar’manda.”

“dar’manda?” the language is harsh on your tongue.

“to... to lose your heritage. to not be mandalorian. the covert believed that bearing your face to another outside of marriage was grounds for ex-communication from the clan. exile.”

“well,” you say after a long moment, crossing your legs and perching on the chair, “that explains the lack the kissing. certainly wasn’t the most important thing on the docket, was it?”

that manages to worm a laugh out of din. the sort that rattles his shoulders and makes his armor swell. he ducks his chin. the sound is still warm as it crackles through his vocalizer.

“interesting point of focus.”

“shut up,” you shirk, “you brought it up.”

“... do you blame me?”

you grow quiet at that but shake your head. your chin finds your hand.

“no,” you say softly, “i don’t. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.”

“what will you do?”

din straightens a bit at that.

there’s only kindness in your eyes.

“it doesn’t matter now,” din says curtly, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world, “the child is my priority. keep you both safe is my priority.”

slowly, you amble up. your hand finds his pauldron, pressing gently into the fabric between his neck and shoulder oh-so-gently. you mind the affection blooming at his words; you’re careful with how you approach it, just as he is. as if a reflex, his hand snatches up to grip yours tightly.

you welcome it.

you squeeze the cold leather of his gloved hand.

“it does matter,” is uttered out like a sigh; din can’t look up at you. he’s sure his entire chest will burst, “you can’t bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, din.”

“i can manage.”

“let me help.”

a scoff. suddenly his hold tightens. his thumb, ever-so-carefully, ghosts the knuckle of your hand.

“you do enough.”

it’s your turn to snort.

“i’m practically freeloading, din —”

“no,” he barks, sitting up a bit straighter. now his visor tilts up, and you swear if you looked hard enough, you could see the slope of a nose, the curve of a lip. maybe, if he tilted his head, you could see his jaw — a ghost of a beard, a flash of a throat. he is human. it’s moments like these that remind you, “no, you’re important. you care.”

“— and i eat all your food —”

“you care about me and you care about the child and it matters more than you realize.”

his tone is so final, you feel as if it’s struck an ending note. as if the conversation has ended. that the welling of emotion behind his words is not to be questioned, not to be considered. in the last few cycles, moments like these have become more frequent but still cherished. as rare as they are, they never fail to make you feel like there’s star-shine in your veins. he isn’t one for grandiose confessions. but... this feel special.

his words leave your lips parted, mouth agape.

and then, in the tiny cockpit, hand in hand with din djarin, all you can muster is a flustered:

“you know, if that helmet wasn’t in the way i would have kissed you cycles ago.”

now, he’s embarassed. it has him laughing — but quiet and shy and all sorts of meak that make the brute of a man seem boyish. his voice is crackled alive with a new-found comfort. he is better now, more like himself and more.

“don’t feed the indentity crisis.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian season 2 spoilers #OHHH DIN MY BABY BOY

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Note

eve you have been killing the content game lately!!! I have a suggestion for the team to do the cut video where someone guesses their starsigns!!

This was a really interesting fic to write, since I know next to nothing about astrology! It’s also the longest I’ve spent researching for a fic--I will apologize in advance for any errors I made. All the birthdays/ signs came from Haz’s page (@lumosinlove) and SW credit belongs to her! Hope you enjoy <3

Marlene was practically bouncing as the video began. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! I’m Marlene McKinnon, and I can’t tell you how excited I am for today’s video. Would you like to introduce yourself, Elaine?”

An older woman with her graying hair piled in a bun waved to the camera. “Hello! My name is Elaine, and I’ve been studying astrology for about forty years now.”

“We’re so glad to have to here! Today’s video is going to be a guessing game with some of our Lions players, where you ask them a few questions and then match their zodiac signs.” Marlene handed her a small pile of cardboard signs with strings tied to the tops.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Elaine adjusted her reading glasses and flipped through the zodiac cards. “I’ve never done anything like this officially, though it’s a bit of a hobby when I people-watch. Ms. McKinnon, would I be correct in assuming you’re a Leo?”

Marlene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

Elaine nodded. “I thought so. Alright, where do I start?”

Marlene waved off-screen and seven young men walked in, lining up in a semi-circle behind them. “Take it away, Elaine.”

As Marlene disappeared behind the camera again, Elaine scanned the group. “This is very interesting,” she muttered. “You all play on the same team, yes?”

“We do,” James said.

Elaine’s lips twitched into a smile and she beckoned him forward. “Are you the team captain, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “Assistant captain, though. I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James. Were you popular in high school?”

James paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always been pretty friendly and hockey helped with that.”

“You’re confident, and you don’t like sitting still.” She tapped her chin and gave him a once-over. “Can I take a look at your ears?”

“My ears?” James blinked at her, clearly surprised, but obliged and leaned down to her level.

Elaine made a noncommittal noise. “Ears say a lot about a person. Capricorns often have more vertical ears, but yours are quite round. You strike me as an Aries.”

James hung the sign over his neck and headed back to the line with a smile. “She just called you annoying,” Finn teased, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, no, Aries’ can be lovely people once they mature.” Elaine tilted her head and motioned to Finn. “Could you step up to the plate, dear?”

“Sure thing.” Finn kept his hands in his pockets, but straightened up a bit and rocked on his toes as he took James’ place. “My name’s Finn.”

“You’re certainly a fire sign,” Elaine laughed. “But you’re not quite an Aries. Are you a generally upfront person?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Finn smiled. “Anything where I could be around people.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah, with those two.” Leo and Logan waved and Elaine’s smile widened.

“You’re a Leo, and a lucky one at that.” She carefully slid the sign over his head and patted his shoulder. “Good for you. Could the young man in the black jacket come up next?”

“I’m Sirius, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand before taking a step back.

“Nice to meet you, too. You’re the captain, right?”

He glanced at the camera, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you certainly could be another fire sign, but there’s something different…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers on the stack of zodiac cards. “Are you friends with our lovely Aries over there?”

“I’m the godfather to his son.”

Elaine held her hand over her heart. “Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re not another Aries or Leo, then. How much do you value your privacy?”

Sirius snorted. “A lot.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He held his left hand up with a slight smile and inclined his head toward Remus. “Engaged for about six months.”

“Point him out for me, please.” Elaine kept her eyes on Sirius as he pointed toward Remus, then turned to the camera crew. “Did you all see that?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “See what?”

“You’ve been so tense and focused, but your whole face opened up when you looked toward him. I’m going to guess you’re a Scorpio.” She surveyed the group as Sirius returned to his place, then beckoned to Leo. “You have the prettiest eyes!”

“Oh, thank you.” He blushed slightly. “I’m Leo.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo. Do you believe in astrology?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I think it’s neat, though. Stars are cool.”

“Good. You’re young, and I’m glad you’re not letting it dictate your life.” She scrutinized his face for a moment. “Turn sideways, please. There are certain face shapes that are more common than others for specific signs…if we had an argument, would you apologize to me?”

Leo smiled slightly. “Depends on what it was about. I’m not very confrontational in the first place.”

“So you like keeping things equal?”

“I do, yeah. As you can probably tell, I’m not big on making hard decisions,” he laughed.

She smiled and shuffled through the cards. “I think you’re a Libra, but this was the hardest one yet. Which one is your boyfriend again? Not the Leo.” Her face brightened. “Ha! Leo with a Leo!”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin and Leo groaned. “Oh, god, he’s never going to let that go.”

Logan was still laughing a bit when he walked over. “Bonjour, I’m Logan.”

“Oh, this makes lots of sense.” Elaine looked between the three of them and nodded. “Are you a hothead?”

“Usually.”

“What sets you off?”

Logan exhaled slowly as he thought. “Most fights on the ice come from people pushing me or my friends around. I’m not one of those weird angry guys, though. There’s always a reason.”

“I bet there is.” Elaine laughed a little. “What are your thoughts on liars?”

He made a face. “Nothing good ever comes from lying.”

Elaine hung the ‘Sagittarius’ sign over his head. “If you’re not a Sagittarius, I need to find a new career. Could the Scorpio’s fiancé come up here?”

In his thick sweater and blue jeans, Remus was the polar opposite of Sirius. “My name’s Remus.”

“You are a sweetheart,” Elaine said with a laugh. “Oh my goodness, no wonder he got all mushy! Have you always played hockey?”

“I was supposed to be drafted out of college, but I got injured and became a physical therapist for six years instead. That’s how I met the rest of the guys.”

“Interesting.” She bit her lip. “Why did you choose physical therapy?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to stay close to hockey and help people. It was tough, but it made me happy.”

“Would you say people underestimate you on the ice?”

Remus hummed in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a big guy, but I’m fast.”

“Well, all your friends are nodding behind you.”

“What?” He turned and they all hid their smiles in their hands. “Guys!”

“They do!” James defended. “Literally everyone we play against underestimates you!”

“Let’s say we get in an argument. Would you apologize to me?” Elaine asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Was I right?”

“Yeah, you’re a Pisces.” She handed him the card, smiling. “Congratulations on the engagement. We only have one left, correct?”

Kasey shook her hand as he walked up. “I’m Kasey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kasey. Do you believe in the zodiac?”

“Nope,” he said. “But my girlfriend does, and she has cool necklaces and stuff.”

“You don’t strike me as a hothead.”

He shrugged. “I’m a goalie. It doesn’t usually come with the job description, but I’d take the gloves off for my friends.”

She flipped through a few of the cards. “You care deeply for them, then?”

“Absolutely. They’re basically my family by this point.”

Elaine hesitated. “This is a tough one. I’m going to go with Taurus, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Are you patient?”

“With some people, sure. It varies.” Behind him, the others were stifling their laughter. Elaine gave them a look, but hung the Taurus card over his head.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Marlene said as Kasey rejoined the group. “Raise your hand if she guessed you correctly.”

Five hands went up; only Leo and Kasey stayed still. Elaine clapped her hands happily. “Oh, I didn’t do too badly!”

Marlene ushered them into a line. “So, Elaine, how did you know James was an Aries?”

“He’s just…” She waved a hand in her air. “He’s very confident, though I feel like he’s matured over the past few years. Something big happened in your life that settled you down, right?”

“My son was born just over a year ago,” he said. “That definitely toned me down.”

“Thank god for that.” Finn muttered, giving him a playful nudge. James smacked the back of his head with a grin as he walked to the end of the line.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got your boyfriends,” Elaine said. “Leo’s often struggle with their identity when they’re younger, so it’s wonderful to see you’ve figured things out a bit.”

Finn blinked, dumbstruck. “Am I that much of an open book?”

“Yes,” the other six chorused. He paused for a moment, nodded, and made room for Sirius to step forward.

“Ah, I knew it!” She beamed at him. “Scorpio and Pisces are very compatible.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sirius laughed.

“You’re the hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Making up for lost time?” At his shocked expression, she her smile became gentle. “That’s usually how it goes. Don’t be afraid to be soft, okay?”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment longer before joining Finn and James at the end of the line; James touched his elbow in solidarity while Leo walked forward.

“Oh, an Aquarius!” Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “I should’ve guessed. Well, that’s a good thing. You’ll be a good counterbalance for the reactive parts of Leos and Sags.”

“Thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “Can I blame Finn’s puns on his zodiac sign?”

She laughed. “Yes, absolutely.”

“It’s good to know there’s a reason for it,” Logan said as he took Leo’s place. “You guessed me pretty fast.”

“You were bluntly honest.” She shrugged. “Sags can be difficult to narrow down, but you fit right in for all the good parts.”

Elaine smiled when Remus stepped up. “You seemed really certain about me,” he said.

“You’re the most Pisces to ever Pisces, dear.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re kind, but I don’t think you take any shit either.” At the back of the line, Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, and he agrees!”

“He better!” Remus grinned back at him.

Elaine gasped when Kasey held up his new sign. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My girlfriend is a Taurus and some of that might have rubbed off on me.”

“Does she have a big personality?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow.” She gave him a quick once over. “There were some parts of Sagittarius that came through, but you were a tough one.”

“It’s the goalie face,” James called from the back of the line.

“Sorry,” Kasey said. “It’s a habit.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” She stared at him for a second longer before shaking her head. “You’re much softer than most of the Sags I’ve met. It’s hard to believe you and the Energizer Bunny back there share the same sign.”

“Did you have fun, Elaine?” Marlene asked as she collected the zodiac cards.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting me!”

Marlene smiled at the camera . “Thanks for watching, everyone. Be sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

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rosemarydisaster · 4 years

Text

So, about Bi Caleb

Warning: very long post, discussing bi representation and biphobia.

*Sorry for spelling errors, English ain’t my firts language.

I can’t believe I have to tell you guys, but anyways: Caleb is bi whether he ends with a male character, a female character on a non binary character. That’s what bi people do, you know? they experience atraction for all genders. Saying that a bi character that ends with someone of the opposite gender is straight and queerbaiting is incredibly biphobic.

Yes, Vax was bisexual. Yes, he ended up with Kiki. Get fucking over it.

Now, I can understand why LGBT+ fans may feel disappointed when they tease a “gay couple” but the “straigth” couple ends up being endgame. Notice the quotation marks because there’s not such thing as a straight or gay couple for a bi person. They are bisexual in both situations, but I can see where the problem comes from. I’ve been queerbaited to hell and back by a lot of shows and it really hurts. It feels like they are laughting at you for caring. But I want those fans (whose feelings are totally valid, don’t get me wrong) to consider a few things when it comes to Critical Role, the first one being: it’s a D&D game.

Let me explain, because I know a lot of CR fans haven’t experienced what D&D is like in real life (and that’s absolutely valid, you don’t need to play D&D to enjoy CR). This is an improvisation game, not an scripted TV show. In a Tv show you can plan ahead of time what ship is going to be endgame, what themes are gonna come up for each character and it’s easier to deeply explore sexuality and gender as different planned arcs. In D&D you character’s sexuality may or may not come up depending on how you play it. Take for instance how other CR character’s have stated their sexuality:

Beau: overtly. Very *In your face* kind of lesbian. Marisha said “fuck it, I really just want to romance girls and be bad ass”

Yasha: openly, but not as in your face. Ashley Jhonson wanted to drink from that WLW cup while also being a shy disaster. Seafood market is her favored terrain.

Caduceus: Our Ace king has never hidden his sexuality, and yet he didn’t mention anything about it until chapter 114. He didn’t had the need to either hide it or state it. He was simply vibing.

I think Liam is going that route with Caleb. He’s flustered by Essek and Edwulf (Come on you guys, he always asks Matthew if he’s still hot). He also had/has a thing for Astrid and a think he might have feels for our favorite Tiefling gal. I know we are all too used to characters being teased as gay/bi only to have execs pull a “haha jk they be straight”. But this is not Sherlock or Supernatural. This is a show that not only has queer rep, but also supports queer organizations and creators. Hell, I’m sure some of the cast members are LGBT (but I’m not here to speculate on real people’s sexuality). If Caleb shows attraction to men he is not just queerbaiting, doing it for fanservicing or tricking the fans in any way shape or form: he’s just portraying a bi character. The thing is, since this is not a TV show, he is not doing it por woke points or to send a message. He’s doing it because he wants to play a bi wizard with depression.

So maybe there will be a point in which he can explores his sexuality more deeply, but remember he is playing a game. And his character is one that has a lot of trouble opening up to his feelings. Caleb is not someone that makes sexual jokes or flirty remarks. He is shy, awkward and has developed a really fucked up sense of love that he is now slowly fixing. Hell, in the same Talks episode Liam explained that Caleb was trained on Honey-pot tactics. Which, for those of you who can’t stand Bond films, means seducing your enemy/target to get information, manipulate them or assassinate them. WHICH IS A REALLY FUCKED UP THING! Let’s remember how he was the one to push Fjord to sleep with Advantica so they could spy on her. That boy has Issues when it comes to relationships. So if we don’t see him being as overtly gay as Beau, Molly or Yasha, well maybe it’s because that’s the way Caleb is. Bi people don’t owe you flamboyance, or dating both guys and gals for your approval. I wouldn’t make a post if it was only that, because I do feel the people who are aching for good bi rep and would love some more explicit confirmation. But Vax exists, so I know we can’t have good things down here.

VAX EXPLICITELY SHOWED ATTRACTION TO GILMORE. AS EXPLICIT AS IT GETS. HE FUCKING KISSED HIM. THEY WERE PRACTICALLY DATING. AND YET SOME OF YOU FUCKERS CALL HIM QUEERBAITING. AND I SAY: NOT ON MY WATCH! NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!!

How come a character can have canonically kissed another character in a romantic/sensual context and still be called straight? I know fucking Sherlock traumaticed y’all into having trust issues but believe me when I tell you: I’ts not that deep. This is not a “Haha I love u but in a no homo way bro”. It’s a “full homo darling, but also we’re gonna break up because I like someone else”. This is the opposite of queerbaiting. Instead of keeping a charade he was honest with Gilmore because he valued his feelings and realized that he couldn’t reciprocate them at that moment. And if you try to tell me that Vaxleth was forced and didn’t have a reason to exist except queerbaiting, let me tell you: you are wrong.

Vax saw Gilmore once or twice monthly while he spent a heck ton of time with Kiki. Sure, they didn’t had the kind of camera chemistry Gilmore and Vax had because Keyleth is not charismatic. She’s really awkward, and her relationship with Vax was more on the adorable and dorky side of things. I bring this up because I’m predicting something similar may happen to Shadowgast.

Trust me, I ship the hot wizards as much as any other critter (even though I’m a multishipper). But they haven’t talked to Essek in centuries. I think it may have been almost a month in rol and quite a few outside. And you have to take into account out-rol time to because they are humans (except Tal) playing a game and they forget about stuff (except Marisha and Matt). So Shadowgast may not happen because sure, they had really good chemistry for a month a month ago. People have crushes that die down over time All The Time. So maybe don’t be so butthurt about your ship not being canon that you accuse an ally of homophobia.

The cast of CR put forward such an amazing representation for the LGBT+ community and it really hurts me that you gets stuck on the one thing that isn’t canon. Matt has created a world in which coming out is not necessary because no one assumes your sexuality. A world in which people respect pronouns and orientations (except Tary’s father, who is a villain). A world in which Cad or Caleb don’t need to explicitly say “I’m ace/bi” unless it comes up in conversation. A world in which his friends can be whatever they want to be without pressure or reprecusions. A world in which they get to explore different gender identities and sexual orientations with full freedom. Let’s not interfere with that (unless there’s missrepresentation), and let them play their game. If you really need mlm or wlw canon couples or more outwardly LGBT+ people you have plenty examples among NPCs and other cast members (Allura and kima, Yasha, Beau, Dairon, Keg, Reani, Tary, Molly and Vax among others).

There’s way worst shows taking LGBT+ cred for barely doing nothing. Fucking Supernatural is the most recent example! Critical Role works towards showing an honest portrayal of LGBT+ folk and accepts valid criticism from their fans on the subject (when they changed J’Mon Sa Ord pronouns from it to they/them). They don’t owe you making your ship canon or portraying their characters the way you want them to (again, unless when it’s constructive criticism). Stop being so Fucking entitled and enjoy the show for what it is

,Respectfully~

*Edit: I´m tagging Caleb’s ships into the post because most hate comes from shipping wars. Most Shadowgast fans are respectful of the cast’s decisions, even if it disappoints them. But since I’ve already seen people accusing Liam of biphobia in that tag and since I’ve already seen this shit with Vaxmore I’m tagging the ship. If you want to read my long ass post do it, if not, ignore it. I’m not forcing you to read it. I’ve also tagged it with biphobia so people can avoid it if it’s triggering. I’m sorry if it makes you mad that your ship is not canon, but that’s not an excuse to be toxic to the cast. Those of you getting mad are the ones that need to read this the most. Like I’ve said in the post: you’re allowed to be disappointed, you are allowed to want more, but you can’t force the cast to give you exactly what you want. And most certainly, you can’t accuse them of some very serious stuff like biphobia and queerbaiting when it’s not the case..

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angelssdecay · 3 years

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Why Zhongli isn’t just a blockhead (though sometimes he is) – another essay by yours truly

Disclaimer beforehand: I am partly Asian, but I am not Chinese and as such don’t have a complete grasp on the richness of Chinese lore and history although I do try to keep on educating myself about it. If you see I made any mistakes, missed out on something very important or accidentally said something I shouldn’t have please don’t hesitate to point it out for me, I’d really appreciate it. This analysis was mostly for myself and because I wanted to set a few things right about some things I’ve seen and encountered about his character in the fandom, that is all.

This analysis ended up to be quite long (over 1.3k words oops) despite me keeping some points out of it on purpose to make it more compact, but I hope you’ll enjoy my thoughts nonetheless!

- Zhongli is not, and has never been, simply a brute without a brain despite his undeniable trail of destruction left in the wake of the Archon war – everything he’s done, as immoral as it may seem to humans, has been done with the image of a more peaceful future in mind and the wish to create a better world for those inhabiting it.

- And let’s not forget that he is extremely cunning and always waging decisions carefully considering he has planned out such a grand scheme from faking his death to implementing Childe in this game of his, and using everyone in Liyue for his grand, final test

- though he did not do so without a thinking about the weight such a final decision would hold, but instead hought long and hard about it through observations of Liyue’s people and how they would fare without his divine intervention from now on.

- Zhongli is without a doubt not a 110% good character, he is indeed manipulative, irrational and inconsiderate of individual human lives to a certain degree and I won’t say that his objectives erase the way of his methods, after all everyone knows that the path to hell is paved by good intentions-

- but it’s simply impossible to define any character in Genshin in such black and white/ good and bad ways because each and every of his decisions is very nuanced - he is not only selfish, Zhongli is also incredibly selfless at the same time because all that he did was for the people of Liyue, he gains literally nothing from all this apart from his rest from his immortal duties, and he is not heartless either because despite making just yet seemingly cold decisions it also has to be said that such hard decisions cannot be made and set in stone when one let’s themselves swayed by emotions

- To come to another point: After living so far off from the mortal world for so long – because watching over humans isn’t the same as wandering amongst and living with them – it is no surprise he is quite detached from them, his heart despite his love for Liyue having petrified little by little and he knows it.

- Yes, Zhongli definitely knows he can’t escape eventual erosion, petrifying little by little, that he will wear away as a river wears away a mountain - but still he lives on to uphold the memory of those that have faded to dust, had sacrificed their very lives to help pave the way for a peaceful and prosperous Liyue and also to carry the weight of sins he has committed in the war – he thinks and he cares so, so much and to conclude this:

- I literally cannot stress enough how he carries so much responsibility, so much history on his shoulders – he is living history – even more now that he’s the only one left to carry on the hopes and dreams who have long passed and that this is an incredibly lonely task. It’s just heart-breaking to think about what he’s carrying with him day by day.

- And to come to one of the most important people from his long life and who helped to shape him into who he is now: Guizhong.

- She was one of the people who taught him that his heart is capable of more than just living for his duty, that he doesn’t only have to live as the God of Martial Arts – they were not just ‘brawns and brain’ – they were a team that complemented and completed each other

- and Guizhong (and consequently her death as well) pushed him to embracer the other sides of his personality as well. It doesn’t matter whether people see their relationship as platonic or romantic, because the impact she has left on him is the same – as someone who believed in his gentler, more caring side

- Zhongli is also incredibly thoughtful and perceptive, seen in the way he talks - a very refined and elegant way with every word laced by the wisdom he has accumulated without it being overbearing or coming across as absolute with no room for doubts - about various important characters in Liyue right now – accurately pinpointing their strengths and weakness and how valuable they are to making the land he has protected for so long continue to prosper

- for example when he talks about the Yuheng and that despite, no, because of her abrasive attitude towards his deeds as a good she is a gem amongst humans and one of the many people he places their trust in to take care of Liyue’s future in his stead. Or Yanfei, the young half-Adepti who despite never having entered a contract with him, or rather doesn’t even know of his true identity upholds order and contracts within Liyue which he praises and values

- It shows how deeply he cares about this land and its people, believing in their strength to overcome everything even without him – which is one of his most defining traits – seen in the way he has guided humanity all these years and in the way the people of Liyue have faith in him, a faith that isn’t blind or caused by fear like with Decarabian, but true respect for all he has done for the people of this land.

- to say he’s a blockhead who doesn’t think nor care about humans is completely wrong because his entire rule for the past millennia was centered around protecting mankind – yes, it has to be said that his methods and morals are outside normal human values but it has to be kept in mind that he is an immortal god and gods neither feel nor live like humans, they understand and perceive the world differently than humans

- gods stand outside out world and that makes it harder for them to truly connect with the way humans live - and it is only after stepping down from his throne that he actually has the chance now to try and experience the life of mortals for himself, to see and live it for himself and not as the distant overseer that Rex Lapis was.

- and while he may feel sadness over not being needed anymore, giving up his godhood is the freedom he chose for himself, it’s something he deserves after watching over mankind for so long and trying to keep balance between the world or mortals and supernatural being

- being free, being allowed to be selfish and think of himself outside of being a god is something he’d never done before being so incredibly bound to duty, contracts and traditions as he is; but by now he truly believes that this is the age of men as the end of the age of gods is coming to its end and it’s a beautiful thing to see him grow beyond the boundaries he had set for himself the past thousands of years

- though in all fairness, sometimes our beloved Ex-Archon can indeed be a little of a blockhead considering he dumped the entire world of Teyvat into a financial crisis by stopping the production of one of the most important catalysts for everyday life – something that may not unfold its consequences immediately of course

- – and even forgot to lay aside a private fund of mora but that’s because he isn’t accustomed to normal human life at all, he is still learning and more than willing to expand his horizon despite the vast knowledge he’s already accumulated over years of his life – and in the end that’s what makes him such a brilliantly lovable man, am I right?

#zhongli #rex lapis #genshin zhongli #character analysis #i have so many thoughts about zhongli #good and bad ones and this was such a ride to write #i hope i did him justice #im literally sweating rn because of how afraid i am #genshin impact

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imaginedisish · 3 years

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Devil’s Advocate (Tenet) Neil x Reader

Chapter 1: Paper Planes

A/N: Hey guys!! Here is the first chapter of the fic, “Devil’s Advocate”!!! I’m excited about this, and writing it is getting me through a lot right now, so I hope you all enjoy it too! Here ya go :)

Summary: After a traumatic experience, you are forced back into the field with Neil, but the mission is personal and possibly too close for home for you to handle. Neil helps you through it, but you’re not sure if you can get the job done.

Warnings: Violence, guns, death, drowning, injuries, angst, cursing, and yes, luckily some fluff :)

Word Count: 4,405

The weight of your cold, dark black glock settles heavily into your right hand as you pick it up off the table to your left. You secure a pair of noise cancelling headphones around the top of your head. You load the gun and cock it.

The headphones blast with music, helping you to concentrate on the man-shaped target in front of you.

Everyone’s a winner, we’re making our fame.

Bonafide hustler making my name.

You extend your gun out in front of you as you shut your left eye tightly to aim.

All I wanna do is…

BANG BANG BANG BANG

And uh, and take your money.

You lower the gun as the target pushes forward towards you. You can’t help but smile confidently as you look at the deep hole you made in center of the paper man. You reach to take it down, but a warm hand grabs onto your shoulder, squeezing you tightly, freezing you in place.

The hand twists your body slightly, just enough to make you turn around. You reach up to the top of your head and slip your off headphones, letting them rest around your neck.

A charming, wild grin pulls at Neil’s lips as his gaze meets yours. “That was bloody incredible!” He shouts. There’s a bright flash of excitement in his eyes. His hands gesture towards the hole you made in the wall. You had aimed perfectly, shooting in the exact same spot each time you pulled the trigger.

“Thanks,” You say back as your cheeks flush with heat despite the boost of confidence rushing through your veins from Neil’s praise. A compliment from Neil means a lot to you, even though you’ve known him for years. He was your closest friend and made sure to tell you the truth, even when it hurt. That honesty grounded you in the chaos of your life. He was a constant, a steadfast star in your sky.

Neil chuckles a bit as his eyes look down to the headphones hanging around your neck. You don’t hear how loud your music still is. Your mind is too focused on the sound of Neil’s laugh.

M.I.A Third World Democracy

Yeah I got more records than the KGB

So uh, no funny business!

“A bit loud, isn’t it?” Neil laughs again as he steps closer to you. He brings his hands to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he grabs the headphones and slips them off of you.

That smile, You think before mentally slapping yourself across the face. Snap the fuck out of it.

Your feelings for him were always at the back of your throat, clawing for supremacy, climbing up to the tip of your tongue, threatening to force your mouth open to spill your guts. Somehow, even after all these years, you were able to hold back. Maybe it was because you didn’t need more than what you had with him. That was an absolute lie. Maybe it was because he never belonged to anyone else. There was no need to be jealous. Maybe it was because there was a certain, silent promise of belonging to each other despite the lack of an official relationship.

That was more like it.

Neil puts the headphones back on the table as the next song plays. The absurdly loud riff of the guitar pulls you back into reality.

Fell in love with a girl,

I fell in love once and I almost completely.

She’s in love with the world

But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading.

Blushing again, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone to press the pause button. The music stops and you smile shyly. A creeping sense of embarrassment crawls into your stomach. You were beyond happy that Neil was able to see you in your element, and usually his presence made you feel good, but his attention was overwhelming at times. Now, the confidence that settled in before had been sucked from your soul and replaced with a racing heart and a cluttered mind.

You push thoughts of Neil to the back of your head. “So what’s up?” You ask, setting the gun on the table next to your headphones. You casually slip your hands into the pockets of your baggy jeans. You mentally acknowledge that you may be overdoing the whole ‘playing it cool’ thing in front of Neil, possibly even to the point that he might be able to see straight through your act.

“Well,” Neil pauses. His hand moves to the back of his neck. “I’ve got some news,” Neil says finally, his smirk falling from his lips. Your heart skips a beat. He looks unbelievably nervous. His brows furrow cautiously, knowing his next words are going to achieve some sort of poor reaction from you.

You gulp anxiously and nod. “W-what is it?” You stutter as you predict the words Neil is about to say.

I can’t fucking do this, not yet.

Neil steps closer to you and grabs your hand in his. The touch was familiar but still shocked you to your very core, your nerves tingly frantically under his fingers.

Please don’t say it, please don’t fucking say it.

Neil’s voice is quiet in anticipation of your panic. “The boss, he wants you back in the field…” Neil trails off, continuing on about something in London, something about him going with you. You feel your chest tightening. You’re not listening anymore. You’re too focused on what happened last time, too focused on the trauma, too focused on the tears, the shouts, the deaths.

“NO!” You scream, your long, HDM hung heavily in your hand. The lifeless body of a new recruit crashes to the floor.

You raise up your arm and cock the gun. You’re ready to aim and shoot, but two large men grab your hands. Your gun falls to the ground with a clatter.

The man with the dark hair cackles cacophonously. He shakes his head, his piercing emerald eyes dissolving your soul as he picks a new body to hold roughly in his arms. A revolver presses tightly against the person’s head. You can’t tell exactly who it is, as there’s a burlap sack covering their face. There are 8 other people in a semi circle, each appearing the same as the last, tied up in a chair with a burlap sack hiding their identity.

“What?” He shouted barbarically, his voice echoing against the silver, metal walls of the chamber. “You think your fucking screams can get you out of this?” He grinned maliciously, licking his lips as he cocked the gun. Tears roll down your cheeks.

You are helpless.

You are useless.

“(Y/N),” The voice of the person cries out, knowing that their fate is already sealed. It was a woman’s voice, and you felt a bit guilty as you prayed to God that it wasn’t Wheeler.

BANG!

The lifeless body slumps into the chair. You whimper, stifling a sob in the back of your throat.

The man with the dark hair moves onto his next victim. You struggle, trying to shake off the two men holding you back. You look around the room, searching for something, anything to get you out of this.

The man’s face lights up with malignant excitement, sensing that his next kill would hurt you the most.

Fuck, no no no no no, You think to yourself. You could recognize those stupid, posh little black dress shoes anywhere. You knew the curves of his body, the shape of his hands. Blood dripped down his neck from the cut on his forehead he had gotten earlier.

Neil.

“Please,” You beg. “Don’t touch him. Just kill me instead.”

The man with the dark hair only grins more widely now. “Darling,” He snarls. You cringe at his use of the nickname. Neil usually was the one to call you that. “Your begging only makes this more fun for me. In fact, it makes me want to kill you even less, just so you have to live with the image of everyone you care for dying in front of your very eyes for the rest of your life.” His cold words send shivers down your spine.

He maneuvers differently around Neil, as he grabs the bottom of the burlap sack and removes it from his face.

Neil’s blue gaze meets yours. You heart feels like it’s being stepped on as it sinks deeply to the bottom of your chest. You can barely breathe now. You huff, trying to keep your sanity, trying to find a way out of this fucking mess.

“I figured you would want to watch the life drain from his pretty little face, (Y/N),” The man retorts. You shake your head violently. You look left to right, searching for some sort of weakness in the two large men that were keeping you in place. You notice a brace around the knee of the man on your right.

Thank God for shorts, You think to yourself.

The man with the dark hair raises the revolver to Neil’s right temple.

“(Y/N),” Neil mutters. “I l-,”

Before Neil can get his last words out, you raise your right leg, bending it in and snapping it out at the back of the man’s knees, launching him forward. With your right hand now free, you sucker punch the man to your left square in the nose. You round house him in the stomach, sending him backwards. You grab your gun off the floor and aim it back to the man with the dark hair.

The man chuckles evilly. “You shoot me, and I shoot him. It’s really as simple as that.” Your heart pounds in your chest.

An idea suddenly dawns upon you. You shift subtly enough so that the man doesn’t catch on to your train of thought. The gun is already cocked, all you need to do is pull the trigger.

BANG!

“Fuck!” The man cries out, stumbling forwards into the center of the semi circle as he releases Neil from his grasp. His gun falls to the floor. You turn away sharply at the realization that you blew his hand off.

You run over to Neil first, quickly untying his hands and setting him free. He starts untying everyone else and you walk over the the man with the dark hair. You catch a quick glimpse of Wheeler, and sigh in relief that she’s safe.

You breathe in hard and part your lips. “Don’t you dare ever fuck with me or my team again,” You pause, kicking the man in your ribs. There’s something extremely personal about your tone. He grunts in response. “Now tell me where Edgar is keeping the weapons. And tell me where the fuck the lab is, you prick.”

He chuckles, breathing shallowly. “Prick?” He pronounces the word articulately. “That’s no way to address your uncle.”

“Fucking answer my question ass hat!” You shout, aiming your gun at his head. With another swift kick to the stomach, he curls up in a ball, clutching at his core. You cock your gun again, ready to shoot. Neil rushes to your side, giving you a look that implored you to let him finish before you blew his brains out.

“F-fine,” He stutters. “It’s in London.” He gives you a set of coordinates, and Neil takes them down. “I suppose I should tell your father that you’re calling him by his first name now, hm?”

“No, you won’t be getting the chance to,” You say.

You pull the trigger.

BANG!

You hear someone in the distance calling your name.

Two slender, toned arms wrap around your back, resting on your waist as they pull you into an embrace. The smell of Neil’s musky, cinnamon and citrus cologne heightens your senses and brings you back down to Earth.

Your breathing slows down a good deal as you press your face into Neil’s chest. His right hand comes up to the nape of your neck, and he begins to rake his long fingers through your hair.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Neil whispers in your ear.

You swallow roughly. “No,” You say without even needing to think. “I’m not ready yet. I can’t leave Headquarters yet. I’m just not ready.” You feel tears begin to swell in your eyes and you bite down on your lip, hoping to keep them at bay. It had only been a month since you had killed your own uncle. He was a piece of shit, but that didn’t make the situation much easier to deal with.

It had only been a week since you watched two of your friends die. That part may have been the hardest for you to swallow.

Neil shakes his head and breaks away from you bit, just enough to get a good look at you. “You’re ready, (Y/N).” His voice is calm and reassuring. “And unfortunately, you don’t have a choice. We have to leave for the airport in,” Neil pauses, checking his silver watch, “45 minutes.”

“W-what?” You gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I just found out a few minutes ago,” Neil admits. “If I knew earlier, I would’ve told you.”

You nod, believing him entirely. “So we’re going to London? To the coordinates?” You ask, looking up into Neil’s ocean eyes. You could feel yourself beginning to drown in them, just as you always were.

Neil simply nods back. He rests a hand on the center of your chest, feeling your heartbeat quicken with anxiety. “It’s just going to be you and I for a few days, and then everyone else will join when we confront…” He doesn’t same his name. He doesn’t want to make you panic again. But you know exactly who he means.

Your father. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of him.

“It’ll be okay,” Neil’s comforting tone relaxes you a bit. “I won’t leave your side for a second,” He adds. You sigh audibly in relief.

You let a single tear slide down your cheek. “Thank you,” You whisper.

Neil pulls you into his chest again. “Anything for you,” Neil responds. You shudder at his words. Sometimes you could swear that he didn’t only see you as his best friend, but something more.

You let the ideas ruminate and run freely in your mind for a few seconds before shooing them away like pesky little children.

You take a step back, allowing a small space to fill between the two of you. “I guess I should go pack now.”

Neil instinctively closes the gap again. You can tell that he’s worried you’ll break down, and you hate it, but his support feels nice. “Do you want me to go with you? I’ve been told I’m good company.” He grins and sends a wink in your direction.

The corner of your mouth turns up a bit into a half smile, and you let out a small giggle. He always had a way of making you smile, of making you feel good.

“Nah,” You say, smiling fully now. “I’ll be alright by myself.”

Neil nods and smiles back. “Alright. I’ll meet you in the lobby at two o’clock,” Neil says. His smile turns into a smug smirk, and he turns his back to you. His dress shoes tap against the floor as he walks away.

“Make sure to bring that silk pajama set you wore that time we went undercover in Monte Carlo,” He calls finally, wagging his pointer finger in the air. “I liked it.”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks at his words. You almost tripped over the completely flat ground as Neil’s chuckle echoed down the hallway.

————

You clutched the handle of your suitcase in your hands. You let it dangle in front of your legs, nervously bouncing it with your knees every few seconds. Your eyes searched the lobby for a head of fluffy blonde hair, but it was nowhere to be seen. You glance up to the analog clock above the front door.

1:59. You were early. You were always early, for everything. Being late made you too anxious. You never wanted to miss a beat.

The clock ticked 45 more times, and you counted each second. Finally, the sound of dress shoes echoed from down the hall. You looked past the reception desk to see Neil carrying a leather duffle bag in his right hand, and a bottle of water in his left.

He smiled, releasing your butterflies from their cage inside your stomach as he finally reached your side. You open your mouth to say something, but Neil cuts you off.

“Don’t try to tell me I’m late,” Neil remarks sardonically, his eyes drifting off of you and onto the analog clock. “You’re just always early.” His smirk tugs at your heart, and you can’t help but smirk back.

“I wasn’t going to say you were late!” You playfully smack his arm with your hand. “I was just going to tell you to be earlier next time.”

Neil grins and shakes his head. He brings his hand up to the small of your back and brushes lightly. Outside the front doors, underneath the awning, a sleek, jet black town car pulls up. You feel your breath hitch in your throat at the realization that it was time.

This was it.

Neil looks to you. “Are you ready?” His voice is reserved, almost as if he was scared to ask the question in the first place.

You nod once. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” You swallow your fear and let Neil guide you out the doors. He grabs your duffle bag out of your hand, and opens the already popped trunk, carefully placing the luggage inside. You go to open the door, but Neil beats you to it.

“I can open doors you know,” You say sarcastically, glaring disapprovingly in his direction.

Neil doesn’t seem to care. “A thank you would be nice, love,” Neil says, shooting a charming smile in your direction. His hand is still holding the door open for you. You step inside the car and look up at Neil.

“Thank you Neil,” You say mockingly. Neil smiles slyly and closes the door.

The car ride to the airport is relatively uneventful. Neil gave you the run down. He told you your cover, where you were staying, and the overall gist of the mission.

“So we’re married?” You ask, making sure you had heard that part of the plan right and hadn’t dreamt it up from a fantasy.

Neil smiles and nods. “We’re newlyweds, traveling the world together one city at a time.” There’s a whimsy in his voice, almost as if he’s telling a fairytale. You can’t help but chuckle a bit, despite the anxiety growing in your stomach.

The car turns onto an exit ramp, and suddenly the airport is in plain sight. You shiver a bit, feeling the air around you growing colder and colder. You check the temperature gauge at the front of the car, and notice that he hasn’t changed at all. You wrap your arms around your chest, rubbing up and down along your body, hoping to warm up.

Neil’s smile fades away as he furrows his brows in concern. He wraps his right arm around your shoulders. You jump at the sudden warmth.

“Are you alright?” He asks as he brings his other arm up to wrap around you completely.

Your anxiety is begging you to tell him no. “Yeah, I’ll be okay,” You lie. Neil doesn’t buy it, and rightfully so.

Neil squeezes you tightly. “I know you’re not okay, you don’t need to lie to me,” He whispers. “I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes begin to well up, and a single tear rolls down your cheek. “Alright,” You sigh, wiping the tear away. You sniffle a bit, trying to clear your head in the process. The car rolls to a stop. “I’m ready whenever you are,” You say, trying to seem more confident than you actually were.

You open the door and slip out. The chaos of the outside of the airport takes you aback, despite the fact you had been in an airport millions of times before. Neil steps out behind you, and goes over to the trunk. He takes the luggage out and steps towards to you. You stare up at the massive building, petrified to enter.

Neil ticks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “There’s not much time, (Y/N). We have to go inside now,” He says, his gaze staring into the side of your head. You refuse to meet his eyes, you’re too focused on the building, the mission, the future.

After a few seconds, you nod to Neil and walk into the airport. You and Neil only have one duffle bag each, and thus you could skip checking in any bags. He guides you over to security, which happened to be a breeze.

A short walk later, you approach the gate. There was a line of people waiting to enter, and you and Neil shuffled to the back of it. A few minutes later, a nice steward scanned your ticket.

“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Ryan, you’ll be in row 2, seats A and B. Have a nice flight,” He smiles, and gestures for you to enter the bridge to the plane.

Your heartbeat quickens as you take small steps. “N-Neil,” You stutter as you reach to center of the bridge. “I can’t do this. I really can’t do this. I mean it. I-I’m sorry I just can’t.” Panic is heavy in your voice. It feels as though the walls are closing in on you.

Neil puts the luggage down and brings you to the side of the bridge. He pushes strands of your hair out of your eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” Neil reassures. “You can do this. I’m said I’m not going anywhere, and I meant that.”

Neil picks the luggage back up, and guides you through the entrance of the plane and to your seat. You hesitantly sit down, quickly placing your hand on the armrest, wondering if there’s still time for you to run out of the door and back to headquarters. To your dismay, you watch the doors of the plane begin to shut. Neil wasn’t kidding before when he said there wasn’t much time.

He stores the luggage in the overhead compartment, and takes his place next to you. He notices that you’re still shaking, and he places his hand on top of yours and brushes your skin lightly with his thumb.

A comfortable silence rests gently between you and Neil as his hand remains on top of yours. Sometimes words aren’t necessary. You can get the idea of what someone means by their actions alone.

A few moments later, the captain makes an announcement, followed by a series of other voices sharing information. You're too wrapped up in your thoughts to pay attention to anything they have to say. Before you know it, the plane begins to move down the tarmac. It gains speed, and suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted in the air.

You shiver again, the anxiety becoming too much to handle. You try to ease into your seat in an attempt to calm down, but to no avail. You’re petrified and uncomfortable, a terrible duo of emotions to be faced with simultaneously.

Suddenly, you feel Neil’s warm hand leave yours. You watch in confusion as he lifts the armrest up, tucking it in between the seats. He lifts his arm, and wraps it around your shoulder, just like he had done in the car, and so many countless times before. You accept the invitation willingly, and snuggle into his side.

Minutes later, you’re fast asleep in Neil’s arms.

———

An evil chuckle echoes against the concrete and spreads down to the grassy beach below. “There’s no saving him now, (Y/N)!” A man shouts from the top of an overpass.

You look down and watch as a familiar figure waves their arms frantically underwater, trying to swim up to the surface, but they can’t. There’s a brick tied around each of their angles. Their dirty blonde hair floats freely in the water as they continue to sink to the bottom.

“N-Neil!” You shout, trying to step forward to dive in after him. But your stuck, tied against a chair, guarded by two large men. “Please, please stop this!”

The man laughs, ignoring your pleas. “This is what you get, (Y/N). You’re worthless, and you fucking know it. Don’t you ever forget it, darling.”

You shake side to side. The chair tumbles over and you fall into the dark, black, cold water. Your nerves are shot by the shock of the frigidness, and you can’t move.

“Neil!” You gargle, left to watch as he sinks to the bottom of the lake. “Neil!”

“(Y/N)?”

“Neil!”

“(Y/N)?”

Your eyes shoot open and you practically jump out of your seat. Your seatbelt pushes you down, keeping held tightly. You’re trembling. You can’t breathe at all.

“(Y/N),” Neil repeats. “It was just a nightmare, you’re okay.” He wraps his arms around you, bringing you tightly into his chest.

You bury your face into his white shirt, sobbing softly. His right hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, his fingers gently combing through your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” Neil whispers, his voice filled with kindness. “I’m so, so sorry, love.”

You whimper into his chest as pain explodes in your heart. “What am I going to do?” You mutter.

“Don’t worry about that,” Neil says, his kind tone persisting in each word he utters. “I’ve got you, it’ll be okay.”

It needed to be okay. You needed to be okay. You couldn’t risk any fuck ups, not this time. This was real. This was life or death.

This was the end of the world.

Or at least it could be.

“I’m going to fucking kill him for what he’s done to you,” Neil states, the kindness in his voice is replaced with anger and frustration. “I’m going to kill Edgar, I swear.”

You shake your head against his chest. “No…

“Leave that part up to me.”

>>> Chapter 2

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous said: I didn’t know too much about the late British philosopher Sir Roger Scruton until I followed your superbly cultured blog. As an ivy league educated American reading your posts, I feel he is a breath of fresh air as a sane and cultured conservative intellectual. We don’t really have his kind over here where things are heavily polarized between left and right, and sadly, we are often uncivil in our discourse. Sir Roger Scruton talks a lot about beauty especially in art (as indeed you do too), so for Scruton why does beauty as an aesthetic matter in art? Why should we care?

I thank you for your very kind words about my blog which I fear is not worthy of such fulsome praise.

However one who is worthy of praise (or at least gratitude and appreciation at least) is the late Sir Roger Scruton. I have had the pleasure to have met him on a few informal occasions.

Most memorably, I once got invited to High Table dinner at Peterhouse, Cambridge, by a friend who was a junior Don there. This was just after I had finished my studies at Cambridge and rather than pursue my PhD I opted instead to join the British army as a combat pilot officer. And so I found out that Scruton was dining too. We had very pleasant drinks in the SCR before and after dinner. He was exceptionally generous and kind in his consideration of others; we all basked in the gentle warmth of his wit and wisdom.

I remember talking to him about Xanthippe, Socrate’s wife, because I had read his wickedly funny fictional satire. In the book he credits the much maligned Xanthippe with being the brains behind all of Socrates’ famous philosophical ideas (as espoused by Plato).

On other occasions I had seen Roger Scruton give the odd lecture in London or at some cultural forum.

Other than that, I’ve always admire both the man and many of his ideas from afar. I do take issue with some of his intellectual ideas which seem to be taken a tad too far (he think pre-Raphaelites were kitsch) but it’s impossible to dislike the man in person.

Indeed the Marxist philosopher G.A. Cohen reportedly once refused to teach a seminar with Scruton, although they later became very good friends. This is the gap between the personal and the public persona. In public he was reviled as hate figure by some of the more intolerant of the leftists who were trying to shut him down from speaking. But in private his academic peers, writers, and philosophers, regardless of their political beliefs, hugely respected him and took his ideas seriously - because only in private will they ever admit that much of what Scruton talks about has come to pass.

In many ways he was like C.S. Lewis - a pariah to the Oxbridge establishment. At Oxford many dons poo-pooed his children stories, and especially his Christian ideas of faith, culture, and morality, and felt he should have laid off the lay theology and stuck to his academic speciality of English Literature. But an Oxford friend, now a don, tells me that many dons read his theological works in private because much of what he wrote has become hugely relevant today.

Scruton was a man of parts, some of which seemed irreconcilable: barrister, aesthetician, distinguished professor of aesthetics. Outside of brief pit stops at Cambridge, Oxford, and St Andrews, he was mostly based out of Birkbeck College, London University, which had a tradition of a working-class intake and to whom Scruton was something of a popular figure. He was also an editor of the ultra-Conservative Salisbury Review, organist, and an enthusiastic fox hunter. In addition he wrote over 50 books on philosophy, art, music, politics, literature, culture, sexuality, and religion, as well as finding time to write novels and two operas. He was widely recognised for his services to philosophy, teaching and public education, receiving a knighthood in 2016.

He was exactly the type of polymath England didn’t know what to do with because we British do discourage such continental affectations and we prefer people to know their lane and stick to it. Above all we’re suspicious of polymaths because no one likes a show off. Scruton could be accused of a few things but he never perceived as a show off. He was a gentle, reserved, and shy man of kindly manners.

He was never politically ‘Conservative’, or tried not to be. Indeed he encouraged many to think about defining “a philosophy of conservatism” and not “a philosophy for the Conservative Party.” In defining his own thoughts, he positioned conservatism to relation to its historical rivals, liberalism and socialism. He wrote that liberalism was the product of the enlightenment, which viewed society as a contract and the state as a system for guaranteeing individual rights. While he saw socialism as the product of the industrial revolution, and an ideology which views society as an economic system and the state as a means of distributing social wealth.

Like another great English thinkers, Michael Oakeshott, he felt that conservatives leaned more towards liberalism then socialism, but argued that for conservatives, freedom should also entail responsibility, which in turn depends on public spirit and virtue. Many classical liberals would agree.

In fact, he criticised Thatcherism for “its inadequate emphasis on the civic virtues, such as self-sacrifice, duty, solidarity and service of others.” Scruton agreed with classical liberals in believing that markets are not necessarily expressions of selfishness and greed, but heavily scolded his fellow Conservatives for allowing themselves to be caricatured as leaving social problems to the market. Classical liberals could be criticised for the same neglect.

Perhaps his conservative philosophy was best summed up when he wrote “Liberals seek freedom, socialists equality, and conservatives responsibility. And, without responsibility, neither freedom nor equality have any lasting value.”

Scruton’s politics were undoubtedly linked to his philosophy, which was broadly Hegelian. He took the view that all of the most important aspects of life – truth (the perception of the world as it is), beauty (the creation and appreciation of things valued for their own sake), and self-realisation (the establishment by a person of a coherent, autonomous identity) – can be achieved only as part of a cultural community within which meaning, standards and values are validated. But he had a wide and deep understanding of the history of western philosophy as a whole, and some of his best philosophical work consisted of explaining much more clearly than is often the case how different schools of western philosophy relate to one another.

People today still forget how he was a beacon for many East European intellectuals living under Communist rule in the 1980s. Scruton was deeply attached in belonging to a network of renowned Western scholars who were helping the political opposition in Eastern Europe. Their activity began in Czechoslovakia with the Jan Hus Foundation in 1980, supported by a broad spectrum of scholars from Jacques Derrida and Juergen Habermas to Roger Scruton and David Regan. Then came Poland, Hungary and later Romania. In Poland, Scruton co-founded the Jagiellonian Trust, a small but significant organisation. The other founders and active participants were Baroness Caroline Cox, Jessica Douglas-Home, Kathy Wilkes, Agnieszka Kołakowska, Dennis O’Keeffe, Timothy Garton Ash, and others.

Scruton had a particular sympathy for Prague and the Czech society, which bore fruit in the novel, Notes from Underground, which he wrote many years later. But his involvement in East European affairs was more than an emotional attachment. He believed that Eastern Europe - despite the communist terror and aggressive social engineering - managed to preserve a sense of historical continuity and strong ties to European and national traditions, more unconscious than openly articulated, which made it even more valuable. For this reason, decades later, he warned his East European friends against joining the European Union, arguing that whatever was left of those ties will be demolished by the political and ideological bulldozer of European bureaucracy.

Anyway, digressions aside, onto to the heart of your question.

Art matters.

Let’s start from there. Regardless of your personal tastes or aesthetics as you stand before a painting, slip inside a photograph, run your hand along the length of a sculpture, or move your body to the arrangements spiraling out of the concert speakers…something very primary - and primal - is happening. And much of it sub-conscious. There’s an element of trust.

Political philosopher, Hannah Arendt, defined artworks as “thought things,” ideas given material form to inspire reflection and rumination. Dialogue. Sometimes even discomfort. Art has the ability to move us, both positively and negatively. So we know that art matters. But the question posed by modern philosophers such as Roger Scruton has been: how do we want it to affect us?

Are we happy with the direction art is taking? Namely, says, Scruton, away from seeking “higher virtues” such as beauty and craftmanship, and instead, towards novelty for novelty’s sake, provoking emotional response under the guise of socio-political discourse.

Why does beauty in art matter?

Scruton asks us to wake up and start demanding something more from art other than disposable entertainment. “Through the pursuit of beauty,” suggests Scruton, “we shape the world as our own and come to understand our nature as spiritual beings. But art has turned its back on beauty and now we are surrounded by ugliness.” The great artists of the past, says Scruton, “were painfully aware that human life was full of care and suffering, but their remedy was beauty. The beautiful work of art brings consolation in sorrow and affirmation…It shows human life to be worthwhile.” But many modern artists, argues the philosopher, have become weary of this “sacred task” and replaced it with the “randomness” of art produced merely to gain notoriety and the result has been anywhere between kitsch to ugliness that ultimately leads to inward alienation and nihilistic despair.

The best way to understand Scruton’s idea of beauty in art and why it matters is to let him speak for himself. Click below on the video and watch a BBC documentary broadcast way back in 2009 that he did precisely on this subject, why beauty matters. It will not be a wasted hour but perhaps enrich and even enlighten your perspective on the importance of beauty in art.

vimeo

So I’ll do my best to summarise the point Scruton is making in this documentary above.

Here goes.....

In his 2009 documentary “Why Beauty Matters”, Scruton argues that beauty is a universal human need that elevates us and gives meaning to life. He sees beauty as a value, as important as truth or goodness, that can offer “consolation in sorrow and affirmation in joy”, therefore showing human life to be worthwhile.

According to Scruton, beauty is being lost in our modern world, particularly in the fields of art and architecture.

I was raised in many different cultures from India, Pakistan, to China, Japan, Southern Africa, and the Middle East as well schooling in rural Britain and Switzerland. So coming home to London on frequent visits was often a confusing experience because of the mismatch of modern art and new architecture. In life and in art I have chosen to see the beauty in things, locating myself in Paris, where I am surrounded by beauty, and understand the impact it can have on the everyday.

Scruton’s disdain for modern art begins with Marcel Duchamp’s urinal. Originally a satirical piece designed to mock the world of art and the snobberies that go with it, it has come to mean that anything can be art and anyone can be an artist. A “cult of ugliness” was created where originality is placed above beauty and the idea became more important than the artwork itself. He argues that art became a joke, endorsed by critics, doing away with a need for skill, taste or creativity.

Duchamp’s argument was that the value of any object lies solely in what each individual assigns it, and thus, anything can be declared “art,” and anyone an artist.

But is there something wrong with the idea that everything is art and everyone an artist? If we celebrate the democratic ideals of all citizens being equal and therefore their input having equal value, doesn’t Duchamp’s assertion make sense?

Who’s to say, after all, what constitutes beauty?

This resonated with me in particular and brought to mind when Scruton meets the artist Michael Craig-Martin and asks him about how Duchamp’s urinal first made him feel. Martin is best known for his work “An Oak Tree” which is a glass of water on a shelf, with text beside it explaining why it is an oak tree. Martin argues that Duchamp captures the imagination and that art is an art because we think of it as such.

When I first saw “An Oak Tree” I was confused and felt perhaps I didn’t have the intellect to understand it. When I would later question it with friends who worked in the art auction and gallery world, the response was always “You just don’t get it,” which became a common defence. To me, it was reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen’s short tale “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, about two weavers who promise an emperor a new suit of clothes that they say is invisible to those who are unfit for their positions, stupid or incompetent. In reality, they make no clothes at all.

Scruton argues that the consumerist culture has been the catalyst for this change in modern art. We are always being sold something, through advertisements that feed our appetite for stuff, adverts try to be brash and outrageous to catch our attention. Art mimics advertising as artists attempt to create brands, the product that they sell is themselves. The more shocking and outrageous the artwork, the more attention it receives. Scruton is particularly disturbed by Piero Manzoni’s artwork “Artist’s Shit” which consists of 90 tin cans filled with the artist’s excrement.

Moreover the true aesthetic value, the beauty, has vanished in modern works that are selling for millions of dollars. In such works, by artists like Rothko, Franz Kline, Damien Hirst, and Tracey Emin, the beauty has been replaced by discourse. The lofty ideals of beauty are replaced by a social essay, however well intentioned.

A common argument for modern art is that it is reflecting modern life in all of its disorder and ugliness. Scruton suggests that great art has always shown the real in the light of the ideal and that in doing so it is transfigured.

A great painting does not necessarily have a beautiful subject matter, but it is made beautiful through the artist’s interpretation of it. Rembrandt shows this with his portraits of crinkly old women and men or the compassion and kindness of which Velazquez paints the dwarfs in the Spanish court. Modern art often takes the literal subject matter and misses the creative act. Scruton expresses this point using the comparison of Tracey Emin’s artwork ‘My Bed’ and a painting by Delacroix of the artist’s bed.

The subject matters are the same. The unmade beds in all of their sordid disdain. Delacroix brings beauty to a thing that lacks it through the considered artistry of his interpretation and by doing so, places a blessing on his own emotional chaos. Emin shares the ugliness that the bed shows by using the literal bed. According to Emin, it is art because she says that it is so.

Philosophers argued that through the pursuit of beauty, we shape the world as our home. Traditional architecture places beauty before utility, with ornate decorative details and proportions that satisfy our need for harmony. It reminds us that we have more than just practical needs but moral and spiritual needs too. Oscar Wilde said “All art is absolutely useless,” intended as praise by placing art above utility and on a level with love, friendship, and worship. These are not necessarily useful but are needed.

We have all experienced the feeling when we see something beautiful. To be transported by beauty, from the ordinary world to, as Scruton calls it, “the illuminated sphere of contemplation.” It is as if we feel the presence of a higher world. Since the beginning of western civilisation, poets and philosophers have seen the experience of beauty as a calling to the divine.

According to Scruton, Plato described beauty as a cosmic force flowing through us in the form of sexual desire. He separated the divine from sexuality through the distinction between love and lust. To lust is to take for oneself, whereas to love is to give. Platonic love removes lust and invites us to engage with it spiritually and not physically. As Plato says, “Beauty is a visitor from another world. We can do nothing with it save contemplate its pure radiance.”

Scruton makes the prescient point that art and beauty were traditionally aligned in religious works of art. Science impacted religion and created a spiritual vacuum. People began to look to nature for beauty, and there was a shift from religious works of art to paintings of landscapes and human life.

In today’s world of art and architecture, beauty is looked upon as a thing of the past with disdain. Scruton believes his vision of beauty gives meaning to the world and saves us from meaningless routines to take us to a place of higher contemplation. In this I think Scruton encourages us not to take revenge on reality by expressing its ugliness, but to return to where the real and the ideal may still exist in harmony “consoling our sorrows and amplifying our joys.”

Scruton believes when you train any of your senses you are privy to a heightened world. The artist sees beauty everywhere and they are able to draw that beauty out to show to others. One finds the most beauty in nature, and nature the best catalyst for creativity. The Tonalist painter George Inness advised artists to paint their emotional response to their subject, so that the viewer may hope to feel it too.

It must be said that Scruton’s views regarding art and beauty are not popular with the modern art crowd and their postmodern advocates. Having written several books on aesthetics, Scruton has developed a largely metaphysical aspect to understanding standards of art and beauty.

Throughout this documentary (and indeed his many books and articles), Scruton display a bias towards ‘high’ art, evidenced by a majority of his examples as well as his dismissal of much modern art. However on everyday beauty, there is much space for Scruton to challenge his own categories and extend his discussion to include examples from popular culture, such as in music, graphic design, and film. Omitting ‘low art’ in the discussion of beauty could lead one to conclude that beauty is not there.

It is here I would part ways with Scruton. I think there is beauty to be found in so called low art of car design, popular music or cinema for example - here I’m thinking of a Ferrari 250 GTO, jazz, or the films of Bergman, Bresson, or Kurosawa (among others) come to mind. Scruton gives short thrift to such 20th century art forms which should not be discounted when we talk of beauty. It’s hard to argue with Jean-Luc Godard for instance when he once said of French film pioneering director, Robert Bresson, “He is the French cinema, as Dostoevsky is the Russian novel and Mozart is German music.”

Overall though I believe Scruton does enough to leave us to ponder ourselves on the importance of beauty in the arts and our lives, including fine arts, music, and architecture. I think he succeeds in illuminating the poverty, dehumanisation and fraud of modernist and post-modernist cynicism, reductionism and nihilism. Scruton is rightly prescient in pointing the centrality of human aspiration and the longing for truth in both life and art.

In this he is correct in showing that goodness and beauty are universal and fundamentally important; and that the value of anything is not utilitarian and without meaning (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s claim that “All art is absolutely useless.”). Human beings are not purposeless material objects for mechanistic manipulation by others, and civil society itself depends upon a cultural consensus that beauty is real and every person should be respected with compassion as having dignity and nobility with very real spiritual needs to encounter and be transformed and uplifted by beauty.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #sir roger scruton #scruton #art #aesthetics #beauty #architecture #music #paintings #film #cinema #personal

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