#this one is one of the most comprehensive rankings I have seen so far

[the-scooby-gang]

Today I bring you ModernGurlz’s Velma character and fashion analysis and ranking

Tomorrow? Who knows

[malottie]

i keep telling myself that i'll make a comprehensive document of lobotomy corporation (and libary of ruina, not really for limbus company)'s inspiration from judaism more specifically the kabbalah 'cause i don't think there is. the problem is i don't know shit about that and google searches only go so far. not talking about the sephira as emanations rn, and i haven't even touched yet on the enoch symbolism. there's also adam, abel, and the significance of it being abram and not abraham. and then qliphoth and the creation of evil by men and how it relates to cogito. and the abnormalities rank names. but for now, here's what i have for ayin if anyone wants to fact check me

16th letter of the alphabet, ayin is pronounced /ajin/ or /a.in/ contrary to the often seen /ajn/. it represents the glottal stop /ʔ/ or the guttural consonant /ʕ/. often seen as a silent letter, this ties into ayin's meaning as the nothingness from which everything emerges by god (most important of which, all the other sephira). ayin is keter, the first sephirot, and the link between chochma/hokma, the second sephirot, and ein sof, god/everything/creation/the primeval light. due to its existence as both nothing and the closest thing to god, keter is often excluded from the sephira, making hokma the first node of the tree of life

some connections are obvious, such as ayin being what creates the sephira in both cases, but most is closer to speculation. its meaning as nothing ties into his global absence from the plot, while at the same time being the centerpiece and catalyst for it all. its existence as a link between ein sof and hokma represents ayin as the link between benjamin and carmen, but moreso as what enables carmen and allows the light to flourish (ein sof/god represents both carmen and The Light that is her objective pretty interchangeably). god/the light doesn't need anyone to be attractive or gather faith, but by itself it cannot do much. only through ayin can it create life and spread its light: ayin is nothing without the light, litteraly, and is what trully enables carmen to try and spread the light to the world

ayin's most simple symbol is the eye, which added onto its emptiness and connection with the light of god leads to different degrees of interpretation:

- the one that sees and is nothing but that sight (relates to ayin/X as the manager that only see through cameras and does nothing but watch and give orders)

- the pioneer, the one that sees what others cannot and brings forth hidden light, but also as overseer or planner, as the one who sees wider and farther (relates to ayin's role as the one bringing the whole crew together, working closely to help carmen, then as the only one in charge, planning for the light, the play, and even past his death)

- more litteraly, the first one that saw the light of god (ayin might not be the first to have followed carmen, but he was the first to see past the person and grasp the enightenment she was trying to bring the world)

and now starts a bit of rambling, basically speculations worded as if i knew it was true

ayin is nothing, it holds no purpose for itself and crumbles without the light/carmen. nothing cannot create something without god, least of all god itself; and so, ayin could not resurrect carmen. instead, in search of the light, he, without god which means without goodness, understanding, or even the right to do so, created what he remembered of it, the imprint the void kept of the light; a negative. vaguely the same appearance, and intrinsically and forever linked, a lingering sense of it, a memory, but also as different as could be. angela isn't carmen because ayin couldn't. he is nothing without her and could not create her, nor could he ever want to. he sacrifices everything in search of the light that has faded, plans to die at the moment when finally carmen/god is present again through the enlightenment that was her goal, life and light created via ayin/nothing, but not by it or for it; and in the end, what destroys his plan and corrupts the light of god is the blasphemy he created without the divine, from nothing, because he didn't know better, the one who was never meant to be the light and could never be, the one who wouldn't have been born had the light not died and could never forgive the circumstances of her birth. icarus, not killed by the blazing sun but created by its fall, melted by its rays nonetheless, wax wings that could never fly nor protect

there. as stated before, tell me if anything is wrong/incomplete. i might add onto this later too

[raw-law]

Sorry for so many questions. I forgot that now that I sign off,people can tell how much I send asks.

Can you rate the task force? (Like one of my previous asks, Misa included) as in like. _/10

-☾

L:

i don't mind any amount of questions. i'm sure light doesn't either. questions are fun to contemplate. thank you for being willing to share them at all.

here's my ratings though and short explanations as to why:

Aizawa -- 8/10. hard-headed, and doesn't always think rationally, but he's a good addition to the team. he'll pull in and push back when needed. it just takes a bit for him to realize when.

Ide -- 7/10. he's more quiet, and i can tell he gets pissy with my instructions a lot. i don't blame him though. he's just being cautious, but not going so far to where it hinders the team. that's a good trait to have.

Light-kun -- 9/10. he honestly is a great fit for the task force. i just don't like how much he complains about my sweets. he has terrible tastebuds.

Matsuda -- 6.5/10. as entertaining as he is... he isn't always that bright. but still an essential part of the team nonetheless. i trust that in the right situations, he'll take action when nobody else will.

Misa -- 5/10. very nice when she likes me. but very pushy and troublesome when she doesn't. also threw out my chocolate once.

Mogi -- 6/10. he doesn't always add much to conversation, but he does as he's told. so that's a plus for me at least.

Soichiro -- 10/10. he makes a perfect police chief. determined, hard-working, listens to me. he takes actions with enough caution to stay safe but enough risk to get the job done. a very respectable man overall.

Watari -- 10/10. he brings me the sweets. :)

Light:

Don't worry, Anon. I do enjoy your questions. Anyways, here are my ratings:

Aizawa---Probably a 7.5/10. He can be a little impulsive and stubborn at times, like Ryuzaki's mentioned, but he's got a sharp mind and is willing to do anything to get the job done when the problem arises.

Ide---7/10. Honestly, I work a lot less with him compared to Ryuzaki, but from what I've observed, he seems to be a good worker. He's quiet, sure, but not uncommunicative, and he understands instructions and gets them done efficiently enough.

Ryuzaki---9/10. I'm not rating him full marks because of his terrible habits, his terrible diet, and his worse sleep schedule...apart from that, though, I've got to admit he's one of the most interesting members I've ever come across. Doesn't hurt that he's apparently 'The World's Greatest Detective' as well...

Matsuda---5/10. He's a nice person, but he really doesn't do so well as a member, if I'm being brutally honest. He's a little annoying with the amount of questions he can ask, and his impulsivity could land the rest of us in trouble someday. But it's my opinion that he's brave enough to take action when no one else will...

Misa---1/10. She beats Matsuda in terms of annoyance factor, she's rather useless, and she talks way too much. The only redeeming factor that hasn't made me rate her a 0 yet is that she's got some brains, and her modelling (or whatever it is job) has come in handy on several occasions.

Mogi---7/10. He's quiet, but he gets the job done well. His comprehension ability is good, and he's rather good at what he does.

My dad---10/10. My singular reason is that I can see why he rose up the ranks so quickly when he just got recruited into the police force...

Watari---?/10. Haven't seen him in action enough to give any sort of rating.

[lyinginbedmon]

Fey and Archfey Familia

With two adorable little nephews running around, I've been on the search for something they can call me that isn't aunt, uncle, or kinnie (which I swear to god is legitimately the Best option I've found so far, yes they are actually that bad). I've sort of slipped into the role (partially by accident, partially very on purpose) of being construed as a changeling fey creature amongst the branches of the family tree.

Well, I've fleshed that idea out a little more and I'm giving it freely to any nonbeenies with little relatives to use.

Why?

Nonbinary people aren't a new thing by any means but cultural acceptance of us is still quite unsteady, and one of the most common questions (and thinly-veiled accusations) is "what are we going to tell our children?"

In answer to that, this approach uses a sense of whimsy and fantasy to help children understand that people who are different are perfectly fine and welcome and even healthy to have around in their family gatherings. In a nutshell, we're the weird ones in the family, and that's not only okay it can be really hecking cool.

It's not inspired by any one tale of fairies or pixies or whatnot from any one culture, and in places intentionally borrows from several to further the theme of friendly cooperative integration where appropriate.

What?

Fey and Archfey Familia (and other spellings & capitalisations of the same, I personally enjoy "fae" but use "fey" here for ease of child reading comprehension) are the visible emergence of ancient supernatural phenomena in a human bloodline. For some of them it's the result of long-forgotten pacts and contracts, for others its the result of distant intermingling, for others its just a spontaneous jerk reaction of nature re-asserting itself against the overwhelming human presence (a signal perhaps to say "don't forget, we're not leaving").

This phenomena manifests with individuals who, though seemingly human at first blanche, go against the grain of conventional human society in odd ways. Sometimes these are small clues you could blink and overlook for years at a time, and sometimes they're more overt, like a blatant eschewing or uncommon mixture of physical characteristics.

Most are joyful, even revelling in this differences that mark them out from the rest of their erstwhile family, though many similarly face difficulties with mental health and medical support. Cultures rarely thrive amidst colonists, and fey-kind likewise struggle to exist living amongst the civilisation of poor neighbours.

Importantly, though different, these fey are relatives within the bloodline. They are no less related to their kin than a relative who skipped the big ears gene or who goes to a different church. Some may describe themselves as changelings, implying they aren't truly related, but the actual practise of replacing children with fairies is a relic of myth.

Fey vs Archfey

Individuals are distinguished as either Fey Familia or Archfey Familia. There's not any concrete rulings on who gets to be what, but the Archfey Familia are usually the "elder" fey in one way or another, often those whose nature became more apparent further back than their peers.

It's important to note that whilst "archfey" has traditionally referred to an individual atop the court hierarchy, Archfey Familia are only such within their own clan (that is, every family may have one but they're not lord above all amongst their kind globally, which is reserved for the rarely-seen Archfey in Ordinary).

Every family can have multiple fey and archfey across multiple domains, without restriction. It can however be said that families more welcoming to good neighbour relatives tend to host more good neighbours amongst their ranks.

Domains and courts

Family fey are usually (though not always, more Fey Familia in particular tend to be non-court than Archfey Familia) attached to a particular domain or court of wisdom. This may be stories, or space, or the animal kingdom, etc. Different individuals in the same family are under no obligation to spring from the same source, nor adhere to the same presentations or courts.

This typically confers a degree of responsibility on the fey to educate and encourage curiosity in a given subject of study, but some are occasionally a little too caught up in their fixations to actually spend time teaching them. Though historical prejudice has cast the fey as trickster and even malevolent spirits, they were usually educators and helpers, though occasional misunderstandings did happen.

Essentially it's a signal to tell younger relatives "hey, here's someone you can talk to about X", providing a clear social function with which children can engage. Functionally, it serves to cite the relative as demonstration that it's okay to celebrate and enjoy things, and to show and exalt that enjoyment even into adulthood. It can also imply a sense of unity, by identifying a common pursuit amongst a group of relatives.

[greenhikingboots]

More about the Mad Mouse

So a few weeks ago during excitement about the new outline reveal, I posted a few mini metas / speculation pieces. In one, I said — not for the first time — that I’m in favor of the Howland Reed = Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse theory. Now I’m finally back to share my favorite canon evidence. (Clarity! This isn’t a comprehensive list of evidence for the theory. It’s a post to focus on one piece I haven’t seen discussed before). I’ve already posted about it once or twice, but always buried in longer posts with tangentially related, more tinfoil-y theories, so I assume most people never read far enough to see this part. But you really, really, really need to see this part. To get to Ser Shadrich I first need to talk about Lyn Cobray. Recall that in AFFC there’s a moment where he threatens Littlefinger, but Littlefinger later tells Sansa not to worry, it was an act; Littlefinger is paying Lyn to fein hatred, join every conspiracy against him and report back.

Okay. So. In TWOW Alayne/Sansa chapter, she and Myranda talk with Lyn. Basically, the reader finds out that Lyn is pretending to be unhappy with Littlefinger because it’s his fault Lyn won’t be his brother's heir much longer. Littlefinger helped Lyn’s brother find a second, more fertile wife after his first wife died, and now a baby is on the way to push Lyn to a lower rank.

Got it? Okay, good. Because right after that part in TWOW chapter, there’s this absolutely insane line that needs to be dissected. *

“The venom in his voice was so thick that for a moment [Sansa] almost forgot that Lyn Corbray was actually her father’s catspaw, bought and paid for. Or was he? Perhaps, instead of being Petyr’s man pretending to be Petyr’s foe, he was actually his foe pretending to be his man pretending to be his foe.” *

Whaaaaat? What's Martin doing here? Why have Sansa think this line? What purpose does it serve? Sure, you can argue it’s just to make readers watch out for Lyn, to be suspicious of him and on the lookout for what he’ll do in upcoming chapters. I think that could be a large part of it. But I don’t think that’s *all* of it. Because guess what happens next?

“Just thinking about it was enough to make her head spin. [Sansa] turned abruptly from the yard… and bumped into a short, sharp-faced man with a brush of orange hair who had come up behind her. His hand shot out and caught her arm before she could fall.”

That’s right, team. Right after Sansa thinks the insane thing about Lyn being a friend or a foe, who should appear but Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse!? 

Who is definitely Howland Reed. Because check this out: * “Perhaps, instead of being Petyr’s man (a hedge knight Petyr is paying for) pretending to be is foe (telling Brienne he’s working for Varys when they met in AFFC), he was actually his foe (a Stark loyalist trying to save Sansa) pretending to be his man (again, a hedge knight) pretending to be his foe (again, lying to Brienne).” *

I mean, honestly that’s enough to convince me. But also the alternative just doesn’t carry a lot of weight in my opinion.

If Ser Shadrich really is working for Varys but Sansa is going to make it to the North despite his attempt to intervene, then how much is he serving the story? Just one more enemy for her to overcome among so many? Plausible enough, I guess, but boring.

Whereas the Howland Reed theory? If it’s true, it could support elements of the Grand Northern Conspiracy — and if we’ve got Stark supporters tracking down Rickon, so why not Stark supporters tracking down Sansa — as well as support elements of R+L=J and Jonsa (or complicate the reveal as speculated in my earlier link).

I get that there are so many secret identity theories that they get tiring and tempting to dismiss. But GRRM certainly isn’t shying away from using them to explore themes and advance plots. So before you shoot down the idea, I hope you’ll at least consider an avenue where this theory could be true and done well.

And if it turns out to be true, I hope you’ll all say, “Hey, Green called one right!” ;)

Thank you and goodnight.  (other posts inspired by the latest outline reveal: 1 and 2)

[indynerdgirl]

Nikki Haley just suspended her presidential campaign.

And while it was pretty obvious for a while now that she wasn't going to be the Republican nominee, I'm not only disapointed, but I'm also just so frustrated as a Conservative. Yes, the economy was better during Trump's presidency, but he is way too polarizing as a person now and, imo, he's going to end up doing more harm than good.

This country has basically been in a political crisis since 2008 when Obama was elected. The country went too far left then and overcorrected by going too far right with Trump, only to overcorrect by going too far left with Biden. And now we're about to overcorrect again by going too far right AGAIN with Trump while all of the voices of reason that are in the middle are not only getting shouted out but don't have the money to run a campaign big enough to be a viable third option.

If Trump really wanted to help this country, he would not have run for president again, he would have put all of his support behind someone who isn't a polarizing personality, someone who could actually start to bring both sides together and finally start erasing this idiotic hardline "our side vs their side" political mess we're stuck in.

I am 36 years old and my first political memory was a civics lesson in Kindergarten about voting for president during the 1992 election between Bill Clinton and George H.W. Bush. I also can remember my parents and grandparents watching the news and listening to talk radio at the time and while there were disagreements between both sides, there wasn't this angry and harmful vitriol for each other we have now because there wasn't a 24/7 news cycle keeping everything in front of us. I swear the internet and social media have absolutely ruined our ability as a society to have actual thoughtful and civil discourse.

What's crazy is that George freakin' Washington warned us in his farewell address that this exact situation would happen if we weren't careful and we didn't listen (bolded sections by me).

"I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the state, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally.

This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but, in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.

It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.

There is an opinion, that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the Government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of Liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in Governments of a Monarchical cast, Patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And, there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume."

Washington’s Farewell Address, September 17 1796

[audio-luddite]

Don't you hate it when they're right?

I mean the test instrument people.

Bouncing around the internoise I hit upon a site I have seen before once or twice.

It is, as the name suggests, a science based band of brothers interested in audio. If they can get a piece of equipment they run it through a lab and evaluate it. Listening may be involved, but more likely FFT of distortion spectra and noise.

This time I was tracking down an ARC D300 amp. It is a solid state power amp by the kings of tubes. It has a following and is respected. These people did a test of it and it did not do well. Far more distortion than a "good one" should have. Part of the idea of voicing electronics to suit prejudices and preferences. Yup people do that.

They have a scoring system that ranks devices by the type and magnitude of distortion and some other stuff. Many "classic" pieces do not do well at all. The D300 was mediocre.

The most interesting thing is if you scroll down to the rank chart.

If you look to the far left the best ranking belongs to the Benchmark AHB2. That is the one that uses the THX license for feed forward error correction. Hmmm, I guess that really works. Golden ears don't particularly care for it.

Makes you wonder what it is they do care for?

This list is by no means comprehensive as they review devices on loan. If they know somebody who has a piece they can get for a while then good on ya!

On the shitty end there are some audiophile darlings including a Dynaco ST 70. The review is interesting if you track it down. The Pi filter power supply earns some specific negativity.

Exploring the site you will find they even test fancy power cables (spoiler alert they do no good and may invalidate your fire insurance) and speaker interconnect wire (spoiler alert they are no better than plain heavy gauge wire.) Of course this is what science says not a highly experienced industry insider who gets stuff free or at big discount!

Very thorough it seems. The speaker cables for example. They ran tests on just the cable, and with an amplifier running amp test protocols and comparing it to plain wire. Sounds fair to me. Recall that nobody has ever published a blind cable test in any mainstream platform as that would hurt the business model.

That brings to mind a comment that Paul McGowan made on one of his You Tube things. He said that switching out cables can make a sonic difference because loosening and tightening the ends to the amp and speaker clear corrosion from the faces. This guy is an engineer, and pretty up front about stuff. He makes some Rolex level stuff too.

I like when bullshit is removed from the discussion.

There is a bit of a trap in audiophile stuff. You have to believe and trust opinions while not believing them. Its not just reading between the lines it is reading the shadow on the wall behind the guy writing the lines. A company with a long history is a good clue, like Dynaco, and Hafler and Audio Research. If their stuff was respected at one time that helps. Trying to perceive price point exercises is also important. My SP14 was a cheaper version of the SOTA ARC preamp of the day.

ARC are pretty too. Love the brushed anodized finish.

Then you have to rely on your own prejudices. For example McIntosh which I never cared for. It may be the transformers on the outputs, the very significant expense or just that everyone I knew with one was an A-hole. So just never on my list of likes or wants.

Some things you must buy from big companies as only they can build them for reasonable prices. A Chevy Corvette costs a fraction of what a Ferrari does because Chevy makes more units in a week than Ferrari does in a year. So my turntables have been Sony, Pioneer, Harman Kardon, and Dual. (that is the whole list)

This is fun right?

[gemsofgreece]

Is Greek considered a difficult language to learn?

It is a challenging language but not as monstrously hard as it is considered stereotypically ("it's all Greek to me").

The difficulty of a language is subjective to some extent. It depends on what language family the learner's mother tongue belongs to and how far from it the target language is. So, for a native speaker of an Indo-European language Greek is going to be easier than a hard language of a different language family i.e Arabic or Mandarin. Among the Indo-European languages, Greek is usually ranked in the hardest or second hardest group. Some say it is easier or as hard as Russian and Polish. I don't know, opinions vary. I would say that almost all language ranking systems I have seen rank Greek in the second hardest group level among all language families. 4 out 5, 3 out of 4, 7-8 out of 10 and so on...

I have a theory about Greek. I believe that it is a relatively easy (?) language to begin with, learn on a basic level. It might get significantly harder to master. While this applies to all languages, I believe the difference in Greek is a lot clearer.

To back my argument, I have noticed that immigrants in Greece (usually they are from Albania, Slavic, African and Arabic countries, so from various language families) pick up on the language easily in what must be a short period of time. Surely, they make mistakes or have a distinct accent but they can understand and be understood in return pretty well. Meanwhile, people from Western Europe or America or anywhere taking Greek classes properly usually look like they are having 7 consecutive meltdowns while uttering a sentence XD

So here's the theory: Immigrants are first and foremost interested in basic communication: to comprehend, to speak the basics and read the basics. They don't focus on exploring intricate themes or writing immaculately, at least not before a lot of time has passed. On the contrary, people who take typical classes are smashed under the Greek grammar and the orthography / dictation which scare the hell out of them and they lose confidence to keep trying.

Long story short, Greek alphabet*, syntax, acquiring listening and reading comprehension: easy, one shouldn't worry at all. **

Greek vocabulary: medium but many many Greek words are in Indo-European languages. The pronunciation / accent must also be considered medium as proven by my experience listening to non-Greeks but honestly pronunciation isn't as important after all.

Greek grammar and orthography: bordering on nightmare and they are kinda interlinked. The deeper understanding of Greek grammar you get, the easier orthography becomes.

But I mean, one doesn't need to write an immaculate novel in Greek or any language, unless they want to pursue a professional career with it. The important thing is to comprehend and make yourself comprehensible. For that, Greek is perfectly achievable.

*Many people are scared to learn Greek because of the different alphabet. Honestly, it's a very easy alphabet and the most similar to the Latin one.

**This is for Modern Greek. Ancient Greek is harder, with a stricter syntax and a more complicated version of the grammar. And a harder pronunciation.

Check this video I posted some time ago, where foreign people talk about their experience learning and practicing Greek.

And this video of people all around the world explaining in Greek why they learn Greek for the International Greek Language Day.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches. 

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now. 

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

<- prev | next ->

Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.” 

_

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

__

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

_

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

☆

☆

thank you for being on my taglist 💕

if you’d like to join my taglist, the link is at the top of my masterlist

*my taglist is super messy, so if you requested to be tagged in “all” fics, it was lumped into the series as well!

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @ssa-sarahsunshine @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04 @donkeykongsmassiveballs @sergiosbae  @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny @cocomoo1 @happymangospot @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm​

(new) tags not working -> check your visibility settings: @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @just_arandomwriter @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler  @faithsamantha @nyasiablack1899 @peterisbetterthanpietro @chrisdylan17 

[trappedsound]

pet shop boys on tiktok - my thoughts

on tiktok, pet shop boys content is almost exclusively nostalgiaposting, with the occasional concert clip

the most interesting thing related to psb that i've ever seen on there was a catherine hepburn edit (i think? can't find it) set to a slowed down version of west end girls. it had at least one comment remarking how good the song was

second place would have to be a rick astley green screen video of him celebrating the approaching weekend, i don't remember what song it was any more

plus, there was that one trend with one song per month of the year that used my october symphony (that song was the one of the few in the sound that had a lot of comments asking for its name)

besides those, there is little to no discussion about the pet shop boys' music, career or lyrics.

depeche mode is in a similar state on tiktok, except their songs also appear in videos like "depeche mode songs that are so hot they make me want to tear someone's jugular out" or "my favourite goth songs ranked". you just don't get that with psb!

one thing to keep in mind about tiktok: it is completely different for everyone who uses it! if a place like "psb-tok" exists, i'm not on it!

so far, tiktok has done very little to create awareness of the pet shop boys.

with all that being said:

i personally don't see why the pet shop boys becoming popular on tiktok would be a bad thing.

if you do, i would like to know why you think it would be bad.

ps: if your argument involves people not understanding subtext, you should know that most tiktok users already have little to no reading comprehension when it comes to text that's in the middle of the screen (due to amoeba brain disease), please lower your expectations

(sorry if this post feels a little disjointed)

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 2

Read on AO3. Part 1 here. Part 3 here.

Summary: So, like, what's the big deal, buddy?

Words: 3800

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Hello!! Firstly, thank you so much to @bastila-ren​ and @elmidol​ for listening to me talk so much about this fic, for reading the first two chapters, and helping me with their generous feedback.

Secondly, I want to thank all of you for your EXTREMELY generous response to this fic. I admit I was very nervous to post this, and still am very nervous to write it, but I can't explain how helpful it is to know that people still enjoy the story and want to read more. It's definitely a story I want to write!

Y’all have truly been too kind to me. I don't have a posting schedule, just yet--I'm hoping every week or every other week. :) Love y'all SOOOOO MUCH.

Like the smarmy bastard he was, Hux fought off a smirk. But Allegiant General Pryde gazed at you with what some might refer to as sheer, indignant horror.

Kylo Ren stopped feet from the throne, his gaze wandering your grungy hair, dirtied uniform, the cell filth on your face.

“Hm,” he said. “That’s one way to greet your Supreme Leader.”

Embers tickled your cheeks. Your Supreme Leader.

You looked at the two other men. What was on your tongue: Would you prefer I get on my knees instead?

What you ended up saying: “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

“I believe the Supreme Leader requires an apology a little more comprehensive than uh, sorry.”  Pryde stepped forward, as if to explain. “Sir, this woman was brought aboard by General Hux without prior approval.”

Kylo glanced between the older men, stare drifting to you, the darkness in his eyes reviving an animal within you that had been placed on life support. 

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t recall providing authorization for this.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “we both know your TIE has been out of commission for several cycles. I thought it prudent to--”

“You thought it prudent to ask a manager of a remote outpost to come aboard the flagship of the First Order. I assume that’s what you’re about to say.” Pryde paused, waiting for Hux’s contrition--but none came. He turned to Kylo. “Sir, again, please forgive me. Had I known he’d be bringing aboard a rim-dweller who would defy your authority, I would’ve denied his request, entirely.”

“Defiance.” Kylo’s gaze drilled you. Much like you had dreamt of something else of his drilling you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pryde balked. “Well, I hardly find it appropriate to address the Supreme Leader of the First Order as dude, for starters.” He spat the word onto the floor like poison. “Really, General, you and her both should be begging for his pardon.”

You swallowed, attention on Kylo, trying to hide your glee. “Please, please forgive me,” you murmured. “Supreme Leader.”

Hux cleared his throat. “My apologies as well, sir.”

“Hm.” If he’d understood your tease, he didn’t acknowledge it. You frowned. Kylo looked to the cloaked mercenaries behind you. “Escort her back to Orinda.”

Disbelief smacked you across the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sputtering, Hux stepped forward. “Supreme Leader--”

“You don’t belong on this vessel,” Kylo said, glimpsing you, then the cloaked figures again. “Report is postponed. Prepare the Buzzard for departure.” 

Like droids, they activated and brushed past you, stalking toward the turbolift. The Supreme Dickhead gazed at you expectantly.

“They’re not patient.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “If you think I’m leaving--”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said again. For once, you felt like both of you were stuck in the same flabbergasted pod. “Repairing your fighter has already wasted the time of numerous engineers, we don’t need to add--”

“Perhaps every engineer aboard deserves to have their time equally wasted, General.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. “If you wish, sir,” he replied. “But we could resolve the issue now.”

“We won’t.”

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren seemed dedicated to preventing you from working on this ship, as if he didn’t know your skill level. As if he believed other engineers deserved a shot at it over you. Ignoring the furious trembling of your fingers, you dug them into your sleeves. 

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” you asked, frowning.

Pryde sighed. “Supreme Leader, the Council--”

Kylo pivoted to you. “No.” There was no hint of mockery or deception in his tone. “You’re capable.”

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulder. Tried not to sound hurt. “Then why won’t you let me try?”

Hazel eyes lingered, held you in silence for deafening seconds. There was something very, very tired inside of them. 

“Sir,” Pryde said, “as much as I love the rousing debate over whether or not this rimrat should be deemed worthy of working on your starfighter, the Supreme Council meeting is in minutes.” He turned to you. “I believe you’ve been directed to leave.”

You furrowed your brow, but miraculously managed to say nothing. The muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched. 

“You’ll get two hours.” He didn’t seem excited about the idea. “After that, you will return to Orinda.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you sighed. “Sir.”

A huff escaped him. “The Supreme Council meeting.” He turned, strode to the exit. “Come.”

Pryde frowned. “Sir, shouldn’t Hux return her to the hangar?”

“No.” Kylo’s voice ricocheted in the chamber. “She’s coming.”

Something like joy sparkled in your heart. Hux jutted out his chin, smirking at Pryde, who frowned and looked to you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. There was a puzzle in his mind regarding your identity, a puzzle he was struggling to put together without the missing pieces. You weren’t interested in offering them. 

The three of you followed Kylo into the turbolift. Out of irritation, you stood as far away from him as possible. Awkward quiet settled in the air, and you grit your teeth, ignoring the sting of humiliation at your cheeks. Sure, it was nice he was inviting you to his little meeting, but that hardly compensated for the fact that it had been four entire months since you’d seen him and he was intent on booting you without so much as a parting fuck. 

Not that you wanted to fuck him after that stunt. 

Mostly.

The lift descended. Kylo hadn’t even looked at you, despite your best attempts at petty distancing. Hundreds of words hung on your tongue, and so few of them were appropriate for the ears of Hux and Pryde. Luckily for you, you could think them, instead.

Jackass.

The blast door slid open, and Kylo exited without response, the two generals on his heels. You lagged behind them, glare boring into the broad-shouldered bastard with the flowing cape.

Can’t believe this asshole was here the entire time, knowing everything, with all of the power in the galaxy, just doing bantha-shit about it.

Stormtroopers passed in formation, nodding in deference to the men in front of you as you turned a corner. The clomping of boots was the only sound for meters.

Leaving you for four months, horny as hell, lonely as hell, all while he was here doing what? Jerking off? As if he hadn’t begged you to stay. Please.

At the end of the hall, a set of blast doors parted, and you trailed the group inside, greeted by a massive, jet-black table with a hologram projector buried in the center. The occupants of about a dozen chairs turned, their eyes stuck to you, assessing you. Kylo crossed to the head of the table, Hux and Pryde taking spaces near him. The only open seats were at the back, relegated for only the most irrelevant attendees. You slunk over to one, sinking into it.

Apparently you’re not relevant to anyone in this room, anyway.

“Who’s this?” A balding officer of high-rank stared at you. “Supreme Leader?”

Pryde leaned forward. “She’s the Chief--”

“Who she is,” Kylo drawled, “is none of your concern.” 

Blood heated your face. The room rumbled with uncertainty, but only for seconds. 

“Sir,” said an older woman with slick blonde hair, “Multiple locations on Kamino refused entry to officers seeking out junior recruits. Our entry-level ranks are suffering. Requesting additional--”

Kylo glanced at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Supreme Leader,” said an older, white-haired man. “Surveillance indicates that a fuel depot located in the Inner Rim has received communications from Resistance starships.”

“Have they responded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another, dark-skinned woman inched to the edge of her seat. “Supreme Leader, ground troops found no evidence of Resistance sympathizers on the most recent patrol of Aeos Prime.”

“And the infrastructure.”

“Seems salvageable, sir.”

Kylo blinked, as if the answer hadn’t even mattered. “Move to the next outpost in the system.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Yet another man cleared his throat. “Supreme Leader, if I may…”

Swallowing, you stared into the gleaming tabletop, tracing the rivets of white light bordering the projector. Voices rose, offering status updates and seeking approval of the man at the head of the room. Obviously, there was nothing attractive about how competent and powerful Kylo Ren appeared in this setting. And this definitely did not tingle pride in your belly watching every single person in this room vie for his favor, knowing that out of all of them, the one he’d fucked was you.

Then again, maybe that was the very crux of the issue. His time and attention was desired and demanded and split between thousands--he directed and delegated an entire, galaxy-wide government. He commanded armies. Strategized operations. Balanced every need, tangible and intangible, with only two hands.

You spent your days bathing in ion dust.

The Allegiant Asshole cleared his throat, breaking you from your pity party. “General Hux,” he said, “didn’t you have your pet project to present?”

All eyes turned to Hux, his face dull with irritation. Lips pursing, he straightened his spine, fingers whizzing over the data screen at his seat. One swipe, a quick field entry, and the projector hummed to life, shooting a blue hologram of a TIE fighter above the table. It flickered, rotating like a display.

“The First Order has regularly demonstrated deficient performance during naval engagements, despite our superior numbers and resources,” Hux said. “After gathering data, we discovered that during our most recent missions, the TIE fighter is regularly out-piloted by Resistance sympathizers.” He tapped the screen, and the hologram split into a cross-section. “Thorough research indicates the TIE model is obsolete.”

The room crackled with whispers, officers turning to each other and looking to Hux, their faces twisted in disbelief. Kylo Ren sat, saying nothing, trained on the display. 

Sighing, you gazed at your hands and cleaned your nails. To you, this was obvious. Of course the basic TIE models--the TIE/fo models--were obsolete. The ships were highly inflexible, carried little firepower for their unwieldy construction, and had no hyperdrive application. In comparison to the model used by the Special Forces, the TIE/fo was practically useless. 

It was less obvious why these high-ranking strangers seemed unable to handle the truth.

“General,” said a dark-skinned man. “Are you proposing we abandon the TIE corps?”

Hux pressed the screen again, and it zoomed in on an exposed ion engine. “At the very least, the most basic TIE corps is woefully unequipped in comparison to Resistance fighters.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied, “our pilots are extensively trained.”

Pryde sneered. “Admiral Griss is correct,” he said. “Our elite troops don’t demonstrate any issue with crushing Resistance burrows.”

“Elite troops are never the ones defending a new occupation.” Hux gestured to the engine blueprint. “We sacrifice our progress because of this antiquated construction.”

“And what’s so antiquated about it?” Pryde sneered. “The construction is based on the Imperial TIE. These ships were a well-known symbol of naval superiority.”

“Updated for modern needs,” added Griss. 

Hux’s voice rose a decibel. “Not modern enough, given how frequently a single X-wing will decimate an entire unit.”

You wanted to groan. Against your will, you had to admit Hux was right. Orinda regularly saw straggling, crippled TIEs smash into the valley outside the hangar in attempts to land for repair. Mirna had pulled more pilots than you could count out of blazing wreckage.

“Do you suggest we change the basic TIE unit, then?” Griss asked.

“Perhaps,” Hux replied, “or we move to a different construction entirely.”

The other officers chuckled, murmurs rippling through the ranks again. 

“Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, “what he’s suggesting is absurd. Sienar-Jaemus manufactures perfectly appropriate and functional fighters at an affordable price to the First Order. It’s been done this way since the Empire.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your chair. For a General of a government allegedly interested in innovation and progress, Pryde seemed to love sucking the Empire’s dick. The fact that they were refusing to even entertain Hux’s idea was, well…

“Perhaps we should place a double order for the basic fighters, sir,” Pryde continued. “To demonstrate their capability.”

You snorted. “Now that’s absurd.”

Every voice in the room died. Leather squelched, and you glanced up from your nails in time to see a dozen bodies shifting in their seats to turn and look at you. Inwardly, you cursed--you hadn’t had to practice volume control in months. 

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren stared. His expression, even to you, was indiscernible. But even if he was mad, you wouldn’t have cared. Not as long as he still intended on kicking you off the Steadfast without another word.

Shrugging, you said, “General Hux is right. The original TIE model is flawed. They lose out one-on-one almost every time.” Kylo still said nothing, the rest of the room too confused to interrupt you. “I guarantee there’s more credits spent on replacement models than it would cost to invest in something more versatile.”

Griss’s nose wrinkled, and he looked between you and Kylo. “I…” When Kylo offered no response, Griss settled on you. “I’m not sure what brought you here, ah… Lieutenant, but regardless of your purpose, you’re surrounded by superiors of the First Order. Don’t speak out of turn.”

“Right,” you said, “I do apologize, sir.  But you have to admit that this all is a little absurd. I see busted up basic TIEs all the time. They’re a failure.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and you are?”

“Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“An outpost?” The room echoed with laughter, and you bristled. Griss gestured to you. “Supreme Leader, please, why is this woman here?”

Pryde nodded. “I know you have your reasons, sir, but surely she doesn’t belong in this room.”

“Maybe this woman knows what she’s talking about,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Griss whipped around, leering at you. “Mind repeating yourself, Lieutenant?”

Volume control. Really needed to get better with that. 

Gathering a breath, you swallowed your ire. You could not spend all two hours on the Steadfast immediately making enemies with the military leaders of the First Order. Given Kylo’s state, you doubted he’d encourage your attitude. 

“My apologies,” you said, bowing your head, “I’m just. Nervous. Being on this ship for the first time.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time on Orinda,” said Griss. “You’ve forgotten the hierarchy.”

“She needs re-education,” said the balding man.

The dark-skinned woman huffed. “Or a demotion.”

“Some form of discipline, surely.”

“Yes,” said Pryde with a glare. “Perhaps that should be arranged.”

Your heart skipped.

“Enough.”

Every person in the room spun, attention on Kylo Ren.

He was still inscrutable. Still gazing directly at you. 

A shiver spilled over your spine. Like instinct, your thighs pressed together. 

“General Hux,” he said. “Prepare a plan for the replacement of the basic TIE model.” A pause. No one spoke a word. “Dismissed.”

You remained in your seat as the other officers rose, their lips sealed as they filed out of the room. Hux scowled at you--ungrateful prick--and acknowledged Kylo’s order before leaving. Pryde scrutinized you, his focus flipping between you and his Supreme Leader as he stood from the table. 

“It’s time to leave, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I need a moment,” you replied, glancing at him. “Sir.”

Pryde turned to Kylo. “Sir?”

Kylo’s face was blank. “Dismissed, General.”

Whatever Pryde was thinking, he didn’t say. He offered deference to the Supreme Leader before strutting out, the blast door shutting behind him.

The moment it closed, the room thickened with heat, like stars vaporized the air. Sweat beaded your hairline, your tongue drying to paper. Every movement you thought to make was paused, paralyzed by confusion. Had it been four months ago, you’d be getting railed on top of the table or in his chair, you were sure of it. But Kylo seemed almost indifferent now. It neutered every response that came to mind.

Here you were, alone with Kylo Ren for the first time since you’d left. He was only meters away from you. And you had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Your time is limited, Lieutenant.”

A reminder he wanted you gone. You shook your head, chewing the inside of your lip. 

“The silencer is free to be inspected.”

Indignance tightened your chest. Your face was on fire.

“Or perhaps,” Kylo said, “you’d rather travel directly to Orinda.”

You whirled on him. “So you knew I was on Orinda the entire time?” Your frustration was unfettered. “You knew and just didn’t do anything about it? For four months?”

His stare didn’t yield. “Yes.”

“Yes?” you said. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How do you expect me to respond to that?” More heat gripped your neck. He was still. “Why do you want me gone so badly? You act like you don’t even want me around.”

“I don’t.”

The words were switchblades to your chest. You shook your head, gulped your pain.

“Uh. Okay. Wow.” Sighing, you continued, “But don’t you--I mean. You pleaded with me to stay.”

He said nothing.

“You... I know how you feel. You can’t hide that from me. Do you…” Your throat was tight. “Did something change?”

For four months, you had wondered what had been going on in Kylo Ren’s mind. Seeing him draped in the responsibility of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, hesitation crept into your gut. Within his gaze, perhaps only apparent to you, there was a black, terrible emptiness, like shadows reined in by his rage. Exhaustion hung in dark circles under his eyes and at his cheeks. His presence was as breathtaking as it ever had been, only haunted with the weight of the galaxy. 

For four months, you had wondered. You didn’t know, now, if you wanted the answer.

“You don’t belong here.” Kylo paused, then stood, moving toward the door. “Your presence is not warranted.”

“Warranted? That’s not what this is about.” You shot to your feet, intercepting his path. “You knew where I was, and you never once came to me! You left me there! Alone!” He side-stepped you, and you followed him, keeping your eyes chained to his. “Didn’t you miss me?” you asked. “Didn’t you think about me?”

He stalled. Exhaling through his nose, he spoke through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” you said. “You promised!” 

Kylo stood, trapped in your stare, his fingers furling into fists.

“I know how you feel about me.” You advanced on him. “I know it.” 

You were so near you could feel his breath, count the individual strands of his hair, bask in the warmth of his body. A short inhale, and memory slammed you like gravity--the scent of his skin, his palms gripping your waist, his lips brushing your ear. The ache in your hands at night when they were not full of him, the bedtime yearning in your limbs when they were not wound around his. You had known him, known him, as if his blood ran in your veins.  

This was the closest you’d been to Kylo Ren in weeks upon weeks. Somehow, you only felt further away.

“Why?” you asked. “Why didn’t you find me?” After all of it, he only stared. It lit you with rage, and you bumped your chest with his. “Say something!”

The muscle in his jaw tightened. His shoulders rolled. But he was silent. 

A peal of bitter laughter escaped you. Whatever issues he had didn’t mater. You deserved more than what he was offering.

“Wow. Okay.” You shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t know who I was thinking about for these past four months, but it definitely wasn’t you.” Shaking your head, you turned toward the door. “Whatever, dude. Fuck you.”

You took a single step, and Kylo snatched your wrist, whipped you against his body. 

“You say that,” he breathed, “as if you haven’t been thinking about getting fucked since you arrived.”

Oxygen fled your lungs. Every blood cell in your body piled onto your cheeks and between your legs. In seconds, you were a throbbing, pent-up, swell of lust. 

You swallowed. “Oh, please,” you muttered. “You can’t distract me that easily. You know I need answers.”

“Hm.” Kylo scanned your figure. “So you say.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You tried to peel your wrist free. “Why didn’t you do this weeks ago, huh?”

His face darkened, his hold on you tightened. 

“You ask questions that have no answers.”

“Ugh. Get off.” Grunting, you shouldered him, body buffeting his like a flaccid wave. It would’ve been arousing, his strength, how utterly solid he was, if he wasn’t making you miserable in this moment. “You’re so full of it, man. Let me go. I’ll go repair your dumbass ship and you can send me back to Orinda, like you so clearly want.”

“You presume to understand what I want.” His voice was severe, a dull blade. “You will not stay here.” The ghost of a smirk fled his face. “But you won’t escape punishment when you’re gone.”

You shuddered, stuck out your chin. “Your punishments don’t scare me.”

Kylo growled. “Really.” A leather palm cupped the back of your neck, tugged you close. “Such confidence.”

You couldn’t help it. A tiny, excited whimper left you. Kylo shifted, his hand squeezed--

The projector in the table beeped. An incoming transmission. The both of you froze, staring at the blinking request on the interface.  You coughed, patted his chest as a signal to answer it. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he released you, crossing to the console and accepting the message.

Hux appeared in hologram form. “Supreme Leader,” he said, voice even more snivelly through the broadcast. “We received a distress signal from Orinda. Multiple Resistance fighters have been detected on radar. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.”

The joints in your body locked. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Permission to dispatch TIE units, sir,” Hux said.

Kylo was still. “Dispatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram winked out. Before you could process, your feet were moving you toward the door.

“I gotta go.” Your pulse pounded in your temple. The entirety of your crew was down there. By themselves. “I gotta go there. I gotta get there. I’m sorry, I know I said I would repair your ship but--”

“Stop.” 

“--it’s probably for the best anyway, I just gotta find some way there, I--”

He spoke your name like a command. You stopped. Stared into his tired, empty eyes. 

His chest fell in a small sigh. “We’ll take the Buzzard,” he said. “Come.”

Kylo Ren tread past you, through the blast doors, into the hallway. The tatters of your bewildered heart weren’t a priority right now. You followed him--your Supreme Leader.

[tawakkull]

LOVE AND MERCY IN ISLAM: LOVE OF GOD: PART 3

Never should one let others into these groans of the remotest places, which indeed are the launching pads to reach God, and thereby help those ignorant ones make fun of them. If this spectacular love is for the Omniscient One, then it should be kept in the most private sphere, not letting it fly away from its nest.

Telling of their trivial love, these conventional lovers wander here and there, proclaiming their love to all, acting like mad men, making their love obvious to all. Lovers of God, on the other hand, are sincere and quiet.

Leaning their heads on God’s threshold, they express themselves merely to Him. From time to time they faint, but they never reveal their secrets. They are at His service with their hands and feet, their eyes and ears, their tongues and lips and they wander in the places of His Sublime Attributes. Immersed in His Light of Being they melt and disappear as a mortal in His love. As they feel and sense God, they burn and exclaim, “More!” Much do they feel at the peaks of their hearts and still they cry, “More!” They are never satisfied with love though they love and are loved. “More!” they keep repeating. And as they continue asking for more, the Glorious Beloved uncovers veils for them, presenting to their wisdom things never seen before, and also whispering to their spirits many a secret. After a certain point what they feel, what they love, what they think of becomes Him. In everything they see they find graceful manifestations of His Beauty. Leaving their strength entirely, at a certain time they connect their will power to His, melt in His demands, and evaluate this high rank with how much they love and are loved, and again with how much they know and are known. With obedience to Him and faithfulness, they express their love. They lock the door of their hearts with bolt after bolt in such a secure manner that no stranger can ever enter that pure house. With all their beings they are witnesses of God, and their praise and appreciation of God is far beyond their comprehension.

Their belief, on the other hand, in God’s response to such loyalty is adamant. Their place in God’s Presence is in direct proportion with His in their hearts, which is why they endeavor to stand upright before Him.

Never do they act like a creditor when they love Him deeply; on the contrary, they are as embarrassed as a debtor. As Rabi'a al-‘Adawiya put it,

“I swear on Your Holy Being that I have not worshiped You demanding Your Paradise. Rather, I loved You and connected my slavery to my love.“

As such, they walk with gushing love toward His Realm, keeping His blessings and kindness in mind. With their hearts, they constantly endeavor to stay close to Him, and with their reason and intellect, they observe phenomena in the mirrors of the Divine Names. They hear voices of love in everything, are mesmerized by the fragrance of each and every flower, and consider every scene that is beautiful as a reflection of His Beauty. For Him, all they hear, feel, or think of is nothing other than love, as a result of which they watch the whole existence as an exhibition of love and, again, listen to it as a harmony of love.

Once love has put up its sumptuous tents in the valleys of the heart, all opposite events seem to be the same, such as peaceunrest, blessing-calamity, hotsweet, comfort-discomfort, griefpleasure, all giving the same sound and looking the same way.

Indeed, for loving hearts, suffering is no different than pleasure. To them, suffering is the very cure, so they drink pain and agony as they drink from the rivers of Heaven. No matter how merciless the time and events get, they stay still with a profound feeling of loyalty. With their eyes fixed on the door to be opened, they lie in wait to welcome some manifestations and kindness in different dimensions. They crown His love by respecting and also obeying Him. Their hearts beat with submission and they shake due to the fear of disobeying the Beloved. So as not to fall, ironically, they take shelter again in the Unique Source of reliance and aid. This kind of quest for an agreement with and consent of God makes them in time very dearly sought by everybody both on Earth and in the heavens. The only thing in their consideration is nothing but God. For them, expecting something in return is a kind of deception, yet they regard it as discourteous not to accept the blessings they have not asked for. They give these blessings high esteem but, cautiously, each of them moans; "I take refuge in You from their temptations.”

An ardent longing is the highest rank for a lover, and to get lost in the lover’s desires and wishes is the most unreachable attainment. Love is founded upon elementary principles, such as repentance, alertness, and patience, whereas once introduced, selfpossession, familiarity, love, longing, and other principles are required in order to merit this position. The first lesson on the path of love is purification, to be deprived of personal desires, to relate all your thoughts and communication to Him, to be busy with things that hint of Him, to wait expectantly in case He manifests, and also to stay determinedly where you are for a lifetime in case He turns to you one day. In this path, love is to be madly in love; ardor is the gushing passion, enthusiasm and desire; when ardor becomes the true nature of humans then this is yearning; consent is meeting every act of the Lover with pleasure; selfpossession is being cautious against becoming intoxicated with the blessings of hearing or feeling His Presence, or being under His direct guidance.

The more people develop in themselves one of the above features, the more changes there are that can be witnessed in their behavior. Sometimes they seek quiet bays where they can confide in Him. Sometimes under the influence of a variety of considerations, they talk to Him and state their grievance concerning separation. They are filled with joy expecting union and relax with tears of bliss. At times, they do not see what is going on around them, for they experience unity in multiplicity, and sometimes they get lost in the awe of peace and cannot even hear their own voices.

Love grows and develops in the bosom of wisdom. Wisdom is nourished by knowledge of the divine. Those who are not wise cannot love at all. And those whose perception is weak cannot reach wisdom, either. Occasionally, God himself implants love in hearts and activates the inner mechanism, an extra blessing which most people long for. Nevertheless, relying on some marvelous wonders and waiting impotently is one thing; an active waiting in endless contractions is totally different. The faithful servants at the Gate of the All-Just One put their expectations on action, take up a dynamic stance and, therefore, they generate with that seemingly still position enough energy to suffice the entire universe, materializing awesome activities.

These people are loyal lovers incarnating certain characteristics. They meet every act of the Beloved with pleasure and display faithfulness all the time, as if repeating Nesimi;[ A famous Sufi poet from Baghdad, Nesimi is considered to be one of the first masters of divan literature. He has two divans (book of poems) in Turkish and Persian. ]

A desperate lover, I won’t, O the Beloved, abandon You,

I won’t do so even if You rend my heart with a dagger.

Despite the fact that they always seriously long for His Company, never ever do they whine. They remove all expectations that are not of Him from their minds, and think only of His Presence. Their conversations become those of the Beloved, and thus, their voices gain an angelic profundity.

For them, love is everything. They can survive without bodies; but without souls, they cannot. They believe that there is no room in their hearts for others, only for the love of the Beloved.

As such, even if they are the poorest and weakest of the world, they hold a status envied by kings as well. They are big in their smallness, mighty in their impotence, wealthy enough in their neediness to command the entire universe. Though they look like a puny candle, they are like an energy source rich enough to light up suns. Even if everyone were to run toward the loyal lovers, it is still clear to where and to Whom the lovers are running. With the wealth of their essential characters they transcend the entire universe. But when they turn toward Him, they become a spark, even less—they become nothing by forgetting all that pertains to their existence.

A life without Him counts little for them. A life without Him is not a life at all. Leading a life without loving is a wasted life, and the delights and pleasures not related to Him are nothing but a placebo. They ceaselessly talk about love and longing and regard those who are not familiar with these as being somehow different.

[goblin-writer]

Ancient Fascination: part 2

This is a continuation of this weeks Flash Fiction Friday.

I hope you enjoy this one :>

~

“From where are you travelling?” The language that crackled through the speakers was off. Mond could understand it but the entity on the other end seemed to have trouble speaking it.

“Our station was Mul Lu.Lim.” The voice was definitely feminine but the station name was unfamiliar. Mond tapped it into the computer and waited for a result.

“Very good,” it wasn’t, “Please hold your position while we verify your status. My name is Mond, what is your name and rank?” Celestine Pantheon wasn’t on the lists of immediate entrants.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Mond. I am Captain Tymborychos dispatched from our base at Bachosborico.” She had to be playing a prank on Mond, right? None of these things existed. They sent a report to the officers’ console and prepared to wait.

“Welcome home Captain. Please wait one moment while we verify the details of your mission.” No reply came as the minutes stretched on.

Far below the Wappen hundreds of computers whirred into action and one large satellite dish turned toward the strange craft. Nobody had seen it yet; with the distances they were observing the ship was near Mars. The observatories on Mars would be getting instructions to image the ship and transmit it back to Earth.

The thin green lines of text ran across Mond’s screen. There was no information of this craft but Mul Lu.Lim was a star in North Eastern Pisces and Tymborychos was a Greek epithet of the ancient goddess Aphrodite. It meant Gravedigger. Ships were being scrambled throughout the solar system just in case something went wrong.

It was up to Mond to ensure that whoever this was meant good things for Earth. That meant talking more with this strange woman who was named after a goddess. They took a deep breath and looked back at the blue ball floating so far below them.

“Captain, this is Mond. We are having trouble verifying your details. How long ago did you depart Earth?”

“By the last reckoning and Earth’s calendar system we left around 1200 BCE.”

“Please repeat the date.” There was no way.

“1200 BCE.” They were being serious. Putting the date into the computer revealed a wealth of information. Six millennia had passed. Human suffering beyond comprehension. Thousands upon thousands of creative movements.

“Do you have any records of your ancestors’ travels?”

“Ancestors? Young human, this crew is the original crew of the Pantheon.” This had to be a joke.

“That is impossible. Who else is on your crew?”

“There are too many of us to list shortly my dear. Do you have a very detailed historical record?”

“I have access to the recorded history of humanity, and some other lifeforms of request.”

An image appeared on screen. A giant palace of glittering bronze with tall trees and reliefs of thousands of different cultures were scrawled across most surfaces. Long dead languages were splashed across columns that fit more into a museum that a spaceship.

“Flip to,” a pause followed as they heard a torrent of different, long dead languages stream from the speaker, “what you call theology. Start at A and stick to dates earlier that 1000 BCE. That should be a mostly complete manifest of officers.”

Mond didn’t ask about crew. If these people were who they claimed to be Earth would learn much more about their past than had ever been dreamt. Living records of a spacefaring civilisation that left well before the modern world. With a journey that distant they would also bring knowledge of stars that were and might still be. Mond allowed themselves a smile as their commander gave the all clear for Pantheon to land on the Moon.

“This is RS Wappen to Celestine Pantheon. You are cleared to land on the Moon. A colleague will contact you and guide you in on your approach.” And with any luck Mond would see them land.

[stillness-in-green]

I felt like the plf war was rushed

1.Plf advisors getting hype but no payoff

2.Only miruko, Momo, and Kirishma got time to shine

3.Machia got defeated to easily

4.The war felt more like a raid

I don't know if I feel like it was rushed, per se--it's by far the longest arc in the story so far by number of chapters, and would be even if you cut off the Tartarus jailbreak and the entirety of the hospital aftermath. What it absolutely does feel like to me is unbalanced.

You note that the "war" feels more like a raid, and you're right. As a caveat, it's worth keeping in mind that "Paranormal Liberation War" as a name for the arc in question is entirely an invention of the fanbase. To the best of my knowledge, the reasoning for the name was that big action shonen series like BNHA (Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc) always have a war arc, so what we were seeing in the lengthy, mass combat confrontation with the PLF had to be HeroAca's equivalent. It's not a term that's in the manga itself, however, not called as such by the characters, not referred to as such by Horikoshi or his editors, not even namedropped in chapter or volume titles. If it feels like a raid, that's probably because that's what it was intended to be.

And that's the problem, really. This arc shouldn't have been about a couple of raids; it should have been about a war.

(Below the cut: a bunch of fired-up complaining. Uses some harsh language, and talks about both injuries and deaths we did see and some we logically should have.)

From the outset, we were told that the resources Shigaraki had amassed were "on par with, or even stronger than" the resources of the hero-saturated society. Yet, we're expected to believe that a force that strong is so easily taken down by a single coordinated set of raids? Yes, the heroes had the benefit of surprise, but there's just so much that doesn't work for me.

First off, and to get this out of the way, it's ridiculous that the heroes even had the benefit of surprise. The MLA had an unknown number of hero double agents. They had people in the government; they had people in the infrastructure. This is an organization that had been living undercover completely unsuspected for multiple generations--how did the HPSC ever manage to carry out a massive, country-wide investigation on such a secretive group and coordinate multiple simultaneous, comprehensive raids without a single person finding out and alerting the higher-ups over a period of only three and a half months?

When exactly did Hawks have time to go and revive Best Jeanist--which he tells us he did personally--such that none of the bugs and micro-cameras he was covered with picked up on it, and both he and BJ could be back in the positions they needed to be in for the raid to begin?

How did Skeptic find out about the raid such that he only discovered it at the last possible second and not minutes, even hours, before it kicked off? How did hundreds of heroes (and even "hundreds" is being conservative, given the fact that they had seventeen thousand people to detain) close in on the villa without anyone from the PLF noticing, either Skeptic with his information network or mundane precautions like people on watch?

Even granting the heroes their surprise advantage--which I don't want to--if the advisors were all supposedly "stronger than the average hero," why didn't we see any of them winning? Okay, yes, Hose Face beat Midnight, but he had every possible advantage in that "fight"; I hardly count it as some big impressive defeat that shows us that the villains were holding their own.

Here's another thing: the MLA styled themselves as an army--they were demonstrably trained in troop tactics. When we saw them in Deika, even their nameless on-the-ground people were capable of coordinating with each other on the fly in response to the movements of the enemy, as we saw come up repeatedly:

Yeah, they were off-guard at first, but as soon as the advisors made the front line (which, you'll note, was immediately), that disadvantage really should have begun eroding. Certainly once Geten--Geten! The number one MLA member most willing to disregard collateral damage! And there he was being a proper leader!--got to the front and started yelling orders, we should have seen the PLF rallying, and I can't imagine any sensible justification for the tides not turning when a) Re-Destro showed up to occupy the highest-ranked hero on the field, b) a bunch of heroes peeled off to try to stop Machia only to get trampled for their efforts, and c) Trumpet got dug out.

You know who don't style themselves as an army, though? Heroes. Oh, they get some basic lessons in cooperation as students, but the extent of such lessons we see is stuff like "why it's important for heroes to have signature moves"--so that on group missions, their reputations will precede them and fellow heroes will already know their shtick. U.A. teaches the odd lesson plan that involves the kids fighting in groups, but there's a huge difference between you and 3 to 6 of your buddies fighting a similarly-sized group in a practice fight, or a handful of heroes teaming up to take down some criminal low-lives, and the mass combat scenario that was the raid. For heaven's sake, look at our closest other equivalent: the raid on the Hassaikai base. At every turn in that encounter, the heroes let themselves get split up and picked off, winnowing down their numbers. It's even explicit in the narrative that hero team-ups were, in the age of All Might, uncommon, and heroes are only just beginning to adjust to fighting in teams. The erstwhile MLA should have had the advantage there.

As to Machia's defeat, I think the big problem with it is not how it happened, per se, but the timescale involved. The plan itself was sound enough, and even with all the kids' efforts, it still took Machia reaching Shigaraki and not getting any new orders to follow to really do him in. Given what we can extrapolate about his movement speed, though, I just don't think the kids should have had time to set all those traps, especially given how much of that equipment would have had to be fabricated by Momo on the fly. I know she's gotten stronger and all, and good for her, but you're telling me that in the four months between Joint Training and the raid, she went from passing out because she created a bag of goodies and one (1) cannon to being totally fine and still able to coordinate her fellow students while cranking out 23 jars of sedative, dozens of feet of rope/cable, multiple fire-resistant coats, explosives they somehow had time to bury, and three cannons?

For fuck's sake, Jirou gave Machia's ETA as under ten seconds. Yeah, Mount Lady slowed him down, but "only a little"--how much time could she possibly have bought them, that the kids were able to to coordinate and enact everything that plan involved?

You guys, go read this post by @codenamesazanka. Machia is so fast. So unbelievably, incredibly fast. "Twice as fast as the fastest train in the world" fast. "Horikoshi clearly did not stop to think about the distances involved here" fast. Three miles in ten seconds fast. It would have been hard enough to square with the needs of the plot that the kids were sufficiently far from the villa to have the kind of time they needed to swing Momo's plan at all, but Horikoshi explicitly letting Machia get right on top of them before the kids even start just makes it completely impossible for me to credit. Machia clearly being slower aboveground than he is when burrowing does not make that much difference to my suspension of disbelief.

My other big complaint? More people should have died, for real. The PLF warriors would not have been holding back. They were ready and willing to kill anyone they came up against. The heroes did have to hold back, because heroes, as we're told over and over again, are not supposed to kill, no matter how dire the circumstances. That difference in ability to exercise force should have been yet another significant advantage for the PLF. I could write an entire list of characters that I think could have reasonably been killed during the raids. That wouldn't be to say that I think any individual, specific character on that list should have died, just that, based on the parameters as they were presented to audience, some number of them should have.

I mean, honestly. How did Horikoshi wanna show us Gang Orca's unmoving claw in the wake of Machia's passage and not have Gang Orca on the list of the dead? How did Fat Gun run right into a mass melee and still have enough fat left over afterward to survive getting trampled by a walking mountain? How did Thirteen survive not getting pulled out of the hospital basement when Shigaraki's Decay hit? How did Trumpet survive getting a staircase dropped on top of him? How did Gran Torino survive a fist through his tiny old man chest cavity?

I could go on and on, but it's not just about the deaths, either. I'm not saying that Kamui Woods necessarily should have died by swinging himself face-first into a blast of blue fire, but I am saying that he should have been out of commission for longer than three goddamn days. You bet your ass I'm saying that after telling us that Hawks' weak point is fire, making us watch him spend at a solid minute or more with his wings wholly enveloped in Dabi's 2000 degree flames, and having Dark Shadow exclaim that his back is completely burned away, Hawks should never have grown his wings back, much less so quickly that they were already visible under his shirt a single day later.

More deaths, more maiming--heck, even more retirements. I'm not saying I love that kind of thing in my fiction--I don't, actually. I think an overreliance on it is a sign of edgelordy nonsense. But the scenario that we had demanded to be treated with the kind of gravity that would have led to such an outcome. To set up a conflict like the raid and have the villains only barely be able to scrape a partial escape, to try to tell us that Shigaraki's victory in Deika granted him such a terrifyingly powerful force only to have them lose every battle they got into, to tell us this was a blow that shook Hero Society to its core, only to be so unwilling to kill or retire any heroes the audience cares about that Midnight is literally the only significant loss… It doesn't work. None of it works.

I don't have much to say on which characters did or didn't get a highlight. I think there were a few more people than you listed that got some good scenes--Tokoyami and Uraraka both got material I liked quite a bit; Dabi famously out-trended the U.S. presidential election on Twitter when he (literally) came clean, and Mr. Compress gave us some wonderfully interesting and characteristically opaque material to chew on. On the whole, though, adding more character moments would only have been dragging out the problem: the scale of the PLF's threat and the HPSC's chosen method of dealing with it are simply incompatible with the feeble "neither side truly won or lost" resolution we got.

And that's my rant on that--thanks for the ask!

[iam93percentstardust]

hi! i really like your writing and was wondering if you’d recommend other authors that you enjoy or even specific fanfics you like? i’ve only just started getting into the steve/tony fandom and want to follow more people! thank you!

Hi there and welcome! We’re glad to have you here!! 💙

I’m more of an MCU kind of gal myself but if you’re interested in the comics, I highly recommend checking out the below authors and fics:

Living in the Future by Closer: Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

@blossomsinthemist: seriously one of the best smut authors I’ve ever read with lots of feelings, trust me, you won’t regret getting into their works

@sineala: been writing Marvel since approximately 2014 (though if you like their works, it’s worth reading their other stuff as well even if you’re not familiar with the fandom, it’s all that good) and has written a lot of the classics including Like a Comet Streaming On and Slipping off the Page into Your Hands

Stars Fading, but I Linger On, Dear by Chibisquirt: A Soulmate AU where people meet their soulmate in their dreams. Of course, not even that solves all the world's problems, especially if one or more of the soulmates has a secret identity...

MCU and Ambiguous Fandom:

@festiveferret: has written so much and I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve stumbled across something that they’ve written at least once, writes both on tumblr and on ao3 but everything they post on tumblr is also cross-posted to ao3 so you don’t have to go digging through their blog to find ficlets

@no-gorms: has literally the most interesting AUs, I always read whatever is new pretty much the moment it comes out, can promise lots of feelings and happy endings

A Series of Learning Experiences by @riotfalling: In which Tony finds out that his tiny artist boyfriend is not a nice boy. In the best possible way. (Riot doesn’t write much Stevetony but what she does write is amazing)

Heart in Hand by janonny: Or the story where Tony, an Omega, holds a much belated Courting Ceremony. Steve joins up and loses his mind a little.

@maguna-stxrk: writes lots of fluff here on tumblr

@omg-just-peachy: widely acknowledged as the inventor of fluff

@itsallavengers: no longer as active but writes the most heartbreaking angst with a happy ending, you will feel so many things, has written classics like Versions of Reality and Nobody Panic, Everything’s Fine

@aurumacadicus: I’ve said before (I think on the stuckony reclist) that her version of Tony is my favorite but I’m going to say it again: seriously, fantastic Tony

Finding Pack by @naferty: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain. (one day this fic will be finished and when that happens, I will scream for three days straight)

@sabrecmc: hmmm yes, especially check out Celestial Navigation and The Prize (also has an incredibly comprehensive rec blog, @sabrecmcstonyficrecs)

Sunrise by NotEvenCloseToStraight: Nomad is a soldier forced to do Hydra's bidding. When his mission takes him to the castle and to the bed chambers of Prince Antony Stark, Nomad is faced with a choice-- to finish his mission and finally earn his freedom or to save the last piece of his scarred soul and let the beautiful Prince live.Antony is trapped in the Palace, his life controlled by his Uncle, the Sovereign Stane. He yearns for a life beyond the palace walls but when the Nomad breaks into his rooms with blade held at the ready, Antony thinks all is lost--and then the assassin hesitates.Steven and Antony are two souls together in the moonlight, two lives on the cusp of ruin and as the sun rises over the palace, perhaps they will be two kindred spirits, finding freedom in each other's arms.

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking: Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

Dear Mr. Fantasy by @pineapplebread: Tony writes letters to his past loves to get over them. They’re all but meaningless by this point, but he keeps them hidden anyways, never to be seen or read by anyone else. Until one day they all mysteriously get sent out.His deepest secrets are revealed and he scrambles to do damage control, striking a deal to enter a fake relationship with Steve Rogers who just wants his ex back. Tony conveniently forgets to mention that the only love letter he still means is the one he wrote to his fake boyfriend.

slipping through the years by often_adamanta: The plane crash and subsequent ice might have killed him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still around, haunting those he cares about. And since the only person who can see him is Tony Stark, death sure isn’t going to be boring.

Insomnia by Scavenge4Dreams: Its 3am. Do you know where your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist is?

rough enough for love by silkspectred: The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

I’m a Grown-Ass Man by not_applicable: or, 5 Times Steve Carried Tony and 1 Time Tony Didn't Mind. At all.

Containment by D: After Tony ends up severely injured from a surprise attack, triggering a flashback and putting him in the hospital for emergency surgery, the Avengers come together in worry for their friend and teammate and are disquieted by the intensity of Tony’s reaction. Between the flashback and the sedatives, Tony’s mind revisits key moments in his life while the team bands together in support of each other and their injured friend, letting SHIELD handle Tony’s attacker, they remain where they are needed, even if Tony isn’t awake to truly realize this. And through it all, Steve makes a decision that will change things with Tony.

His Fate Will Be Unlearned by scifigrl47: Tony Stark spent his childhood making weapons, filling the hole his father left in the world when he succumbed to alcohol, grief, and his own demons. At the age of fifteen, he ran away from home, and made it as far as MIT before all of his responsibilities caught up to him. Now seventeen, he just wants to finish his degree and escape from everything connected to the Stark name. Steve Rogers crashed into the icy North Atlantic in the 1940's, sacrificing himself to save the world. He never expected to wake up, and now that he has, he's not sure he's glad. The US Army has other plans for him, but for now, Steve is slowly learning to live life in the 21st century, and taking classes at Boston College. He's beginning to suspect that there is no escape. Boston College is on the T's Green Line. MIT is on the Red. The two lines meet at the Park Street Station, and so will Steve and Tony.

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia: For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Like Gene Kelly in the Movies by lyra_wing: Everything Tony Stark does is a dance. And it's super confusing for Steve.

bedrock and brick by lyra_wing: Immediate sequel to the movie, wherein Tony builds Avengers Tower. Or plays interior designer, take your pick.

[thelegendofstella]

Sephiroth’s true eye color (among other things)

Ever since I got into FF7 stuff I’ve wondered about Sephiroth’s rather inconsistent eye color over the media he’s appeared in (which is a lot), and I think I finally have an answer for it, as well as answers for other slightly unexplained phenomena. Warning you now, this will be fairly long and full of spoilers for multiple games in the series, yet hopefully informative.

Sephiroth is best known for his green, cat-pupiled eyes, among other things, and that’s generally the accepted eye color for him in fan works and such. But his eyes are actually light blue, and not just mainly in spinoffs. There will be a TL;DR in about the middle of the post for one interesting point, and another at the end for the whole post in general.

Disclaimer: This isn't intended to be a "this is the right way to portray Sephiroth's eye color" gatekeeping thing, this is just an analysis of an element of character design that went way too deep and is breaking Tumblr as we speak hfsdgyfudgfsd

Evidence, theories and such under cut-- all 63 images (yes, you heard me, be warned) either come from various wikis as official art/screenshots/etc. or are my own screenshots:

In Final Fantasy 7, where this mess all started, his iconic official art has green eyes:

But in all other art, models, etc. for the game, even the Ultimania scan, his eyes are light blue (or some sort of blue in general):

Of course, you could argue that Sephiroth’s official art also has blue eyes if you stare at it hard enough, but at first glance it’s more green than blue, and with the amount of green-eyed art I’ve seen, I’m sure many people have just accepted that his eyes are green and nothing more.

Several other games in the main series also portray Sephiroth’s eyes as light blue, sometimes borderline colorless depending on the lighting:

I particularly curse Advent Children for it’s washed-out aesthetic because in the darker scenes it completely masks Sephiroth’s real eye color. Thank the gods for HD screenshots.

However, there is a very interesting phenomenon that only seems to happen in Last Order, the 25-minute animated retelling of the Nibelheim Incident and Zack and Cloud’s escape 5 years after. No one seems to have noticed this yet, to my knowledge, so I’ll go through this as clearly as I can.

When Zack confronts Sephiroth in the reactor, the latter’s eyes are light blue:

It isn’t very obvious due to the mako glow tint and his face being in shadow, but I’d think green eyes would look different here, so they are light blue. They stay light blue for a while after this, until Zack begins to fight him and parries him onto the ceiling (anime physics...), resulting in this peculiar scene:

Light blue into green. Literally, you can see it happening in the actual video. This happens a second time when Sephiroth has Cloud skewed on Masamune, just more subtly:

Again, light blue into green(er). Definitely something funky going on here. It goes back to light blue when Cloud tosses him away, though:

And speaking of Cloud... he, too, shows very obvious eye color change directly after this scene, as seen below:

In the video they are visibly, animatedly glowing, it’s not just me discerning between two different flat shades of color. Keep in mind this is before he gets mako poisoned and Jenova-celled and whatnot, so this isn’t due to SOLDIER enhancements. What gives?

Here’s my take: it’s the Lifestream. People are made of Lifestream like everything else in in the FF7 universe, and it’s common knowledge that Lifestream/mako can do some pretty weird shenanigans. SOLDIERs are literally pumped full of the stuff and have seemingly superhuman abilities, and that’s just the lower-ranking ones. But the series has also placed a lot of emphasis on willpower, which Cloud post-experimentation struggles with due to the J-cells and stuff. A lot of people with particularly bright or “glowing” eyes have expressed an incredible amount of willpower, some of which include Cloud, Sephiroth (unsurprising), and Aerith:

Aerith’s eyes have always been incredibly bright in the series, regardless of which game you reference. Remake especially makes this obvious, as it seems like every close-up shot of her makes her eyes the centerpiece regardless of lighting, setting, etc.:

Like, seriously, they almost seem to glow they’re so bright. But here’s the kicker: Aerith is a Cetra, and the Cetra, obviously, communicate with the Planet... or, in other words, have an incredibly strong willpower that influences things. It’s been stated before by various people and media that Sephiroth and Aerith are two sides of the same coin, but not quite like this, I think. Cloud shows a similar phenomenon in his close-up shots as well, though the artificial SOLDIER glow is most likely contributing to most of it:

Compare these to younger Cloud in the Nibelheim flashback, when he was more innocent and had no need for incredible willpower, artificial or not:

Going back to Cloud in Last Order, the point we can make about him in particular is that when he was stabbed, literally at death’s door, he drew on his inner Lifestream for the strength to toss Sephiroth away. People have wondered for years about how this moment was even possible besides Protagonist Syndrome, and this may be the answer.

If this is the case, then this could apply to anyone: Aerith, Sephiroth, Zack, hell even Tifa seems to have slightly glowing eyes in the Remake sometimes-- and sure, it may be just the game engine making sure we can actually see their eyes in key cutscenes... but it ties into canon lore and actually makes sense, so I’m sticking with that. It’s also not a coincidence that Aerith specifically has green eyes, too, since the Lifestream in general is green-colored and whatnot.

Midpoint TL;DR: people with lots of inner willpower can call on their own Lifestream to give them strength, resulting in “glowing” or even color-changing eyes depending on how much Lifestream/mako they have in them. SOLDIERs, for example, would fall in the latter category... the most extreme being Sephiroth.

Now that's we're back at Sephiroth, another interesting point is that his eye color in Remake is consistently light blue, or some blue variation depending on the lighting, with green centers, as seen below:

Cloud obviously shares the same eye color pattern by this point because it's implied that he has the same if not slightly more mako in him than Sephiroth, which very conveniently also equates to him having the same if not slightly more willpower than Sephiroth.

An honorable mention goes to the Remnants, since they, too, follow the light blue with green centers pattern, appearing to fluctuate between the two colors at certain times:

With all of that said and done, I’ll wrap this up by going through Sephiroth’s appearances in side games and other franchises as quickly as I can:

1) The Dissidia series (Dissidia, 012/Duodecim, NT, Opera Omnia) almost always portrays Sephiroth with light blue eyes in art, renders, and models, occasionally with a hint of green in them:

A very interesting exception is NT Sephiroth's Safer Sephiroth costume, which has completely white eyes in all three of its alts. Yes, it's basically just a cosmetic costume, but it's still worthy to note for comprehensive purposes:

2) World of Final Fantasy’s Sephiroth has light blue eyes:

3) Record Keeper Sephiroth’s sprites are very obviously based on the original FF7 official art where he has green eyes (yes, I checked the colors by hand, they're all in the greener sections of the color wheel):

4) The Kingdom Hearts series is particularly unique because it features a blue-eyed Sephiroth but with an explicit reason for it. Kingdom Hearts 1 simply says that Sephiroth is part of Cloud’s past, but Kingdom Hearts 2 literally has Cloud saying “I'll get him. This time we settle it. Me, and the one who embodies all the darkness in me.”, and then explicitly clarifying that it’s Sephiroth he’s talking about. Sephiroth even shares Cloud’s facial shape, which is particularly obvious in KH2 renders:

All other Sephiroth appearances in the KH series also feature him with blue eyes, except for any usage of material from other media.

5) Itadaki Street games feature Sephiroth with green eyes:

6) Puzzles and Dragons features a rare teal-eyed Sephiroth:

And finally 7) All other Sephiroth appearances in spinoffs and other media feature him with light blue, blue, or rare teal eyes, except for sprites, which are (most likely) reused from Record Keeper:

And that’s FINALLY a wrap. All my evidence for Sephiroth’s actual eye color in one place, and even a theory on why it can potentially fluctuate between that and the iconic green.

Actual TL;DR: Sephiroth’s eyes are actually light blue in 90% of his appearances, and the remaining 10% either comes from temporary green-ness or partial green-ness thanks to mako/Lifestream stuff, or spinoffs.

There is one small point I’d like to make at the end of this, and that is the remaining mystery of why Sephiroth’s pupils are even slitted and cat-like in the first place. That... is far more ambiguous in terms of evidence than the eye color. Some series, particularly the Kingdom Hearts series, have them as regular round pupils, while others sometimes if not most of the time give him the cat-like ones. I may make another in-depth analysis post trying to figure it all out, but for now I’ll say that it may just simply be a result of the Jenova cells he has or something along those lines.

If you made it this far down and didn’t just instantly scroll past my massive log of images and sundry, thank you so much for reading all of this! If you did just instantly scroll past, I don't blame you. I guess I'm in proper Sephiroth hell now, lol.

I hope you have a great day and that things turn out well for you fhjksdgfyhughuhyudfs