#first one is literally a renaissance painting

[ayo-edebiri]

MARGOT ROBBIE and CILLIAN MURPHY

For Actors on Actors (2023)

#margot robbie #mrobbieedit #cillian murphy #cmurphyedit #actors on actors #usereena #userelio #userallisyn #tuserpris #tuserhan #byaurore #userbbelcher #nessa007 #tuserrachel #noalook #usersugar #first one is literally a renaissance painting

[feroluce]

On Sampo's name (ALL of his names!)

I feel like everyone who's a fan knows the meaning of Sampo's full name by now- the sampo was a legendary item that could magically make endless supplies of gold, flour, and salt, all priceless items at the time! So it works perfectly for a scammer businessman like Sampo. ☆

"Koski" is the Finnish word for "water rapids" which might seem kinda random but actually makes sense for him, since Aha and the Masked Fools are also referred to with water terms:

So water rapids fits perfectly! Sampo wants to stir the pot! He likes to shake things around and spice things up! He's taking that stagnant pool and turning it into water rapids! It would actually explain his ridiculous hair color, too; a dark blue wave tipped with white foam haha

What I really wanted to talk about is his drag alias name, though, Brughel Poisson, because to me that's where it gets really interesting.

So like in the English version, Sampo goes by Brughel Poisson when he's in disguise. Searching for just "Brughel" itself doesn't seem to get you much at first: a Flemish and Dutch Renaissance painter named Pieter Brueghel the Elder, who was famous for his landscapes and peasant scenery, especially Hunters in the Snow and The Blue Cloak.

He's referred to as "the Elder" because he had a son also named Pieter Brueghel (the Younger), and he began a long line of painters, all named Brueghel. Some of them did original work, and many of them created reproductions of the Elder's art to sell. The Elder was also famous as a printmaker. All of this is hilarious when you remember that Sampo is an infamous counterfeiter and has sold a relic called the Parallel Universe Printer JSKZJSMD

There is also something called Brueghel's Syndrome, named after one of Brueghel's paintings called De Gaper, which pictured a man yawning widely. It's a condition that causes the mouth to open and gape uncontrollably, twisting a person's countenance into a distorted mask of their usual face.

Tumblr doesn't have a way of censoring pics like twitter, so for the sake of the medically squeamish, I'm just showing De Gaper here. But if you look up Brueghel's Syndrome, you can find pictures of actual patients, some of whom really do make faces resembling Aha's comedy and tragedy masks!

In the Chinese and Japanese versions, his alias last name is a lot more silly- In those, "Sampo" is phonetically written as "san-bo" and "san-po." And in disguise, his last names are phonetically written as... "Bo-san" and "Po-san." The Chinese version uses different tones, but still. This smug asshole seriously just decided to write his own name backwards and called it a day NDMKXMDMD

In the English version, Poisson itself is kind of a reused Hoyo asset- it's also the name of Navia's fishing village in Genshin Impact. Which is a really silly name for a village, because it literally just means "fish" in French smzjxkdkdk but!

Again, more water imagery. And in English, if something is suspicious, we say that it's "fishy," which is perhaps the most fitting association yet for someone as shady as Sampo ☆

And for a good while I thought that was the only connection. But then. My beloved @/hydrachea, who is an actual native French speaker, dropped this on me right after April Fool's Day:

Poisson is literally the word you use to pull an April Fool's prank.

#honkai star rail #sampo koski #brughel poisson #hsr sampo #hsr sampo koski #hsr #I feel like I should note that all the info on the CN/JP versions are things I know secondhand #it was posted in a server where there ARE actual people who can read/speak Chinese and Japanese and no one corrected it- #-so I'm assuming it's at least decently legit. but if it's in any way incorrect I would love to hear from others! #I'm especially interested in CN since it's the original. and I've never heard anything about 'Brughel' in any other languages. #so anyone else with fun tidbits about Sampo's name in LITERALLY ANY LANGUAGE please feel free to reblog/tag/askbox me that shit #I love learning stuff like that it's so fun ♡ #fun story in the old myth the sampo was lost in the sea. and in genshin impact the village Poisson was flooded by the sea. #not only that but Brueghel's last painting- which was unfinished due to his early death- was titled The Storm at Sea. #something something foreshadowing-

[simpforboys]

I have a Xavier request. I dunno if it’s been done (plus its a little cringe and a little cliche) but the ideas been stuck in my head for days - partially inspired by rose “paint me like one of your French girls” scene in titanic. Xavier asks to paint her nude or she asks. It can lead to anything I just need the idea out of my head. Another idea I had that could be linked or seperate is a reader with wings and Xavier is just like obsessed

By the way I love your work. Your JJ stuff too (goodness me) -

Anon 🐣

(Ps: have a high five 🖐️, m not keen on hugs)

my angel

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: you want xavier to draw you… nude.

warnings: mentions of smut, no real smut, nudity, YOU HAVE WINGS!!!! (i pictured angel wings but go with whatever u want bae) xavier is in love with you

im combining this because omg imagine xavier drawing you and hes just obsessed with your wings and body… anyways imma get writing

initially, when you approached xavier about the idea of doing a portrait of you, he loved it.

considering he had done many sketches of your beautiful face, it should be easy.

but then you clarified what you meant.

“can you draw me like one of your french girls, xavier?” you mimicked rose from the movie, titantic.

you leaned against your boyfriend, your wings wrapping around him enough to make him flustered.

he spun around in his stool, his eyes full of admiration. he put his hands on your waist and brought you closer.

“you know i always draw you, baby.” xavier told you, referring to the multiple portraits he had done of you.

“what if i want you do draw me with my wings? with only my wings…” you trailed off. the look you gave xavier was suggestive and he couldn’t help but feel excitement.

so now, as you stood in front of xavier in nothing but a robe in the center of his dorm, he couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“where do you want me, baby?” you teased, seeing your boyfriend blush.

“how about you lay on the bed.” xavier grabbed a chair and brought it over. he watched as you gracefully dropped the robe before laying down.

his eyes roamed your naked body. he had seen it numerous times before, but for some reason this seemed more intimate.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” xavier whispered as he began to sketch.

you grinned at your boyfriend. he always made you feel special.

the focus look on his face as he drew you was enough to make you flustered. being so vulnerable while he memorized every part of you was intimidating.

“relax, baby. your wings are moving.”

xavier knew when you got flustered or embarrassed your wings would tend to show your emotions more than your face.

for instance, your wings had began to scrunch together instead of being fully displayed.

that’s one of the things xavier loved most about you. the way he could always tell how you felt by your wings.

he loved everything about you. he was quite literally smitten by you, ever since he first saw you.

you were never scared to be yourself.

xavier finally finished your face when he began to draw your boobs. the memories of him leaving hickies, kissing them, sucking them made xavier blush.

“what’s got you blushing, pretty boy?”

“you.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you laughed.

“you don’t need to. everything about you would make me blush.”

you couldn’t help but feel your own face warm up, wings clamping together slightly.

“babe.”

“sorry!”

➽─────────────────❥

“are you almost done? i’m half asleep over here.”

xavier laughed at your comment. he was just finishing the details on your wings, leg bouncing in anticipation.

what if you hated it?

“come look.”

you stood up from the bed, sleep in your eyes as you put on one of xavier’s shirts.

you sat on his lap as he showed you the drawing. your face turned in admiration as xavier watched your eyes light up.

“oh my god, it’s so pretty. like a renaissance portrait.”

xavier grinned, his big hands rubbing your bare thighs. “my angel, huh?”

you smiled, kissing your boyfriend.

“your angel.”

#xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe x you #xavier #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #percy hynes white #percy #wednesday #xavier fluff #xavier thorpe fluff #you have wings #simpforboys #i need him

[spencerdaze]

Fun fact about Barbie's Rapunzel

I'm a very big fan of the Rapunzel version Barbie made. Aside from the beautiful soundtrack and overal aesthetic, there's something i noticed maybe a few years ago??

While i don't know if this was intentional, when Rapunzel is painting different dresses on herself, the dresses represent different artistic movements!!

The first one she makes with the paintbrush is the top centre purple dress, which is heavily inspired by renaissance styled dresses from times of Michelangelo and stuff. It's obviously very fantastical but if i remember correctly the reaction of her peers to this dress is that it looks too old or maybe a little outdated, which makes sense because Renaissance art is very old and has that antique feel, not very modern, not very groundbreaking (although it was in a way)

After that she makes the one in the top right, the big, ruffly dress that is clearly repressenting the Baroque period in art, where the main feature of paintings was pastels, the main feature of clothes was excess and the main feature in architecture was, you guessed it! Horror vacui. This dress is considered by her animal peers to be too much, similar to how baroque architecture can be a little too much for the eye.

Finally, the final dress she makes before making her official ballgown is the one at the bottom left, very obviously inspired by avant garde art. Cubism comes to mind, although i would say the dress has a very post impresionism feel to it similar to Gaughin's style of painting. Of course her friends say the dress is a little too modern.

The critiques mixed with the dresses themselves really makes me think these small references weren't a coincidence but thought through, making a little reference to classical art because, well, she paints! She's literally PAINTING THE DRESSES HERSELF!!!

#film #movie #love this movie #cinema #barbie #barbie film #barbie rapunzel #barbie as rapunzel #barbie movies #old barbie movies #barbiecore #movie details

[savagewildnerness]

I’m sorry, but Lestat literally looks like he’s been sculpted by some master artist here. Carved in marble & painted in rose & gold, finished with jewels for eyes. And obviously we know Armand also has total Angel- from-heaven, art-sculpture/renaissance painting beauty.

I’ve been listening to that scene in TVL today: the one Anne Rice writes with exquisitely beautiful & Romantic rhyming prose, where Lestat is in the ballroom & sees Armand not in his old rags but dressed like a fairytale prince for the first time & Armand gives Lestat the vision that he is human again & Lestat thinks it true - that he is saved & then Armand ATTACKS… anyway, obviously it ends up a horrific scene in which Armand essentially rapes Lestat, then Lestat almost kills Armand, stopping himself just at the last moment as Armand is so beautiful & pitiful that Lestat feels too sorry for him… Gothic glory of the skulls & eye sockets beneath all the humans & how horrified Lestat is before he sees Armand by the knowledge of how he will kill & the desire he feels to take life in the ball too… anyway, oh MY, how exquisitely BEAUTIFUL is that scene going to be!!!?! Lestat, Armand, the music, the gentle rain, the light, the wash of abundant beauty & tantalising death.

We die.

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv lestat #amc iwtv #iwtv amc #iwtv armand #lelio #Lelio rising

[transzilla]

Need a sub who is going to let me forcemasc him and kick his fucking ass like 80s rough trade style. Like some real neanderthal low IQ bdsm. Like I want to put him in the hospital. LMAO

You like a dom when it's one of your skinny fucking chainsmoking cis boys, like you honestly think you're hard because you let some skateboarder who can't lift a spare tire smack you around a little bit.

Your problem is that you're scared because you don't know what pain is. So believe me when I say I'm going to teach you what pain is.

I am literally on steroids and I do this shit for my own enjoyment.

Have you ever been hit in your liver? Like right on your ribs, a real body shot? It's like somebody lights you on fucking fire from the inside out and your whole body burns worse and worse by the millisecond. And you can taste it. Like I'm making you suck on some pennies. Lmao.

When your nose bleeds it will taste bad but you should be fine provided it doesn't obstruct your breathing. When your nose gets broken, that sinus fracture won't hurt right away from the adrenaline but as soon as it wears off it hurts like fucking hell and you can't touch it without it crunching or cracking around under your skin. You will feel nauseous and then fucking sick at the way your face breaks in ways you didn't know was possible, pieces of your inner cheekbone breaking and getting loose in your eye socket, the devil's own human anatomy lesson. When you get knocked out by getting punched in the face you think you're fine for the first half second but when the momentum catches up and your brain hits the other side of your skull in your head it's good night from there. And after you come to your face will be valentine's red and pink and swollen and nigh unrecognizable and from there is just going to turn so many pretty colors you'll look like a goddamn renaissance painting.

I'm going to make you scared that you're gonna die. And then you're gonna be scared that you might not.

You can complain, you can scream, you can beg, try to run, try to fight back, hold your hands up, there's honestly no point because you know you're going to take it and you know you like it because I say you will so you will. You're a faggot. There is something wrong with you. If you didn't come to me to try to fuck you would have just spent your time trying to run away from the first chucklefuck who knew how to fight and had a problem with you. You made it clear that this is how you accept love, so I will make you wear it on your face.

I am not going to afford you the ability to hide behind a mild, vanilla, effeminate or weak front. I am going to hurt you so badly your friends and your family and your significant other can't even bear to look at you without feeling your pain as badly as you felt it. They can't hold your perfect pretty girly face in their mind anymore, even after you eventually heal your nose has been bent into a new shape and the symmetry your teeth grew into has been rearranged into a haunted graveyard of broken and missing teeth like tombstones. And you can't exploit their safe conditional acceptance anymore. And you have to find a way to live as an ugly fucked up man when you can't get by looking pretty and doing nothing.

And idk maybe after I'll let you suck my dick a little bit.

#forcemasc #autoandrophilia #forced masculinization #this one is very fight club im not a nerd i just box #boxing actually is very nerdy #also i learned to box well because i got assaulted. lots of lgbt men do this! like emile griffith #this is gruesome but idk what to tag this as #ftm bd/sm

[swollenbabyfat]

How did you come to draw and paint the way you do? What inspirations do you pull from? All of your art oozes with some strange, almost ethereal emotion I've not quite seen anywhere else, something similar to what I'd like to capture with my own works.

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time answering this bc like…I honestly think aesthetic/inspirational/taste stuff is a library you build up over your whole life, or maybe a closet that you try things on to see what does and doesn’t work for you. My biggest advice to this kinda stuff is to experiment a lot and take in a lot of media in a purposeful way, and try to actively apply things you like about said medias to your work. And don’t just consume stuff within your field, I take inspiration from a ton of stuff that isn’t art. I also recommend having somewhere to keep a kind of reserve of inspo, wether it be on tumblr or Pinterest or what have you.

So with that being said I’ll try to sum up what I can about myself.

I’m a horror lover, have been since I was (too) young. I’ve consumed a ton of horror movies, read a lot of books, and certainly have digested a lot of art about it. I am a bit of a haunted person haha, and I’ve always really attached myself to horror, and with some exception to just purely cute stuff I truly am always thinking about it with my work. I am not really aiming to make people feel comfortable with my stuff, in fact often the opposite, but many feel understood anyways which feels nice. I don’t think horror for horrors sake is always as fufilling to me, it always pulls from something internal that I’ve been wrestling with or are afraid of myself.

I am classically trained in fine art due to the kind of art program my highschool had (magnet program if that means anything to anyone), it was incredibly good and I always feel so lucky I got to go there. Bc of this I learned a lot of techniques in painting as well as the fundamental of art. I don’t think my art would be the way it is without this training, but I also think with how the internet is now you can probably do the same thing at your own pace, just have to be dedicating a decent amount of time and mental energy into it.

Bc of my highschool training I also learned about art history, which had a big impact on me, particularly renaissance, baroque, and rococo. Religious imagery as well had a huge impact on me, particularly catholic (probs cause we learned about it it the most). I would say doing master studies with these would be a huge help.

I would say it’s important to me that each “full” illustration tells a story of sorts, I can’t really help it, I’m a story teller at heart. I use a lot of symbolic imagery, I pull a lot from religious imagery but also within fruit, flowers, personal objects… I think “what am I trying to say with this work” and kind of go from there with what I choose. Make your own personal symbolism language.

There’s like this certainty digital painting aesthetic I really enjoy by niche furry artist lol, many of them really nsfw so I don’t feel comfortable linking to them. It’s like…highly detailed well rendered pieces that they make with literally one brush that is often without any kind of pen pressure, just layering things with opacity. It’s crazy and yeah idk they’re definitely up there in inspo for me.

I really really care about fashion. Lolita was my first love in terms of clothing, and I pull a ton of inspiration from it, but also a lot of other street styles and runways stuff. I like drama and frills.

I play with my art and stories in a way that I don’t know how to describe other than childlike. It’s important for me to do so in my process, but basically, I let my imagination run wild, I talk to my characters, I listen to music and think about them. A lot of my bigger pieces take a lot of time of me thinking about them ahead a time, I draw in my head a lot. Sketchbooks are a huge help in this.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I have to say for now…I could probably list a million things but this feels like a good core to start with. I hope it’s not too vague, but I’m always good to keep answering stuff like this if you wanna know about one part in depth.

#ask #faq

[pro-mammonologist]

Hello my love. I am absolutely obsessed with your recent post about how the Demon brothers would send dick pics. It was so accurate and so hot! I was wondering if you had any thoughts on how the side characters would send them?

WHEEEW YES OFC

Solomon has seen all the dick pics throughout the ages from renaissance paintings to caveman engravings. He has mastered the art of sending dick pics (he thinks so at least). He loves to be completely stripped down in a chair, slowly stroking it and smirking into the camera. A regular dick pic would just be him in the mirror, wearing nothing but a towel and his hard cock pressing against it. He’d tease and say “wanna see?” He loves a good tease.

Simeon is awful with technology so don’t expect anything impressive at first. He sends really awkward ones prolly with his toes in it, but being open to criticism he will willingly show his dick pics to a succubus and be like “hey how do I entice my human?” And afterwards he will realize that he can’t do photos because they all look ugly so he settles on the most perfect videos he possibly can and masters recording right during the cumshot. Simeon will whore himself out and will literally send you entire videos from start to finish of him getting himself off. His facial expressions and movements are delicious but it’s even better when his cum hits the camera.

Barbatos isn’t the kind to send them regularly, he likes to keep you wanting. He only sends them when you request them or you’re already getting sexy in the chat. He loves sending photos when he’s working especially if he happens to have on a cock ring and he’s been edging himself just for you. Likes a good soapy cock just as much as Asmo. He will do anything you request of him if you beg enough.

Diavolo love love loves any form of nudes. Loves them from you and will send just to get some in return. Likes to sit on his throne and angle the camera in front of it so you can see his dick print, especially in his demon form. Likes sending videos of himself jerking it in the middle of night, but he’ll literally fuck any toy he can find and will whine about it not being as good as you. Stands above the camera (cough cough size kink) and will nut from above so it can fall down like your mouth is open and waiting. Nighttime desperation is his favorite time to send.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #diavolo #barbatos #Simeon #solomon

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 20

1188 – Died: St Hildegonde of Neuss (Also spelt Hildegund), German saint, biologically female, who dressed as a boy as a child, and lived as a man as an adult, before entering a male monastery. She was born at Neuss, near Cologne. After the death of her mother, at age 12, she went with her father, a knight, on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. For her safety, during the trip, she was dressed as a boy and called "Joseph" for her protection.

While returning from the Holy Land Hildegund's father died, but she was able to make her own way home and maintained her disguise first as a boy and then as a man. Later, she made a pilgrimage to Rome, during which she had several adventures.

On one of them, she was condemned to be hanged as a robber and escaped only when a friend of the real robber cut her down from the gallows.

After that, she returned to Germany and was accepted into the Cistercian monastery at Shönau, near Heidelberg, concealing her gender, and to her death she was believed to be a man. Her true sex went undiscovered until her death in 1188.

A few years later, abbot Engelhartof Langheim wrote her biography. She is considered a saint, even though her cult is not approved by the Roman Catholic Church.

Aretino by Titian

1492 – The Renaissance writer and dramatist Pietro Aretino was born on this date (d.1556). Aretino was an Italian author, playwright, poet and satirist who wielded immense influence on contemporary art and politics and invented modern literate pornography, notably in La Cazzaria ("The Book of the Prick"). This colorful writer and dramatist, described as the first professional writer of his century, was probably the son of a cobbler, although he preferred to claim he was illegitimate and of noble origin. His patrons included Popes (Leo X, Clement VII), Cardinals, kings (Francois I and Emperor Charles V) and other connoisseurs of the porn of the age. He had a flair for self-dramatization, a fertile dirty mind, and an uncanny knack for profiting from the politics of his age. He first achieved notoriety for a series of pornographic sonnets, each describing a different position of sexual intercourse, and each illustrated by Giulio Romano and in which he declares himself to have been a sodomite from birth.

Aretino prospered, living from hand to mouth as a hanger-on in the literate circle of his patron, sharpening his satirical talents on the gossip of politics and the Papal Curia, and turning the coarse Roman pasquinade into a rapier weapon of satire, until his sixteen ribald Sonetti Lussuriosi (Lust Sonnets) written to accompany Giulio Romano's exquisitely beautiful but utterly pornographic series drawings engraved by Marcantonio Raimondi under the title I Modi finally caused such outrage that he had to temporarily flee Rome. In 2007, Michael Nyman set eight of the poems to music. They proved no less controversial in the twenty first century: at a 2008 performance at Cadogan Hall, the programs were withdrawn on allegations of obscenity.

In a letter to Giovanni de Medici written in 1524 Aretino encloses a satirical poem saying that due to a sudden aberration he has fallen in love with a female cook and "temporarily switched from boys to girls..." Later he was known and admired for his ragionamenti dialogues, often audaciously filthy, on contemporary Roman life. Public figures so feared his clever and vicious pen that Aretino became rich from promising not to write on certain subjects. He is said to have died from a stroke while laughing at a dirty joke.

Aretino was a close friend of Titian, who painted his portrait at least three times. The early portrait above is a psychological study of alarming modernity.

1857 – Herman Bang (d.1912) was a Danish writer and one of the men of the Modern Break-Through - the late 19th century literary movement in Scandinavia that replaced Romanticism. Bang was born of a noble family on the small Danish island of Als.

When he was twenty he published two volumes of critical essays on the realistic movement. In 1880 he published his novel Haabløse Slægter (Families without hope), which at once aroused attention. The main character was a young man who had a relationship with an older woman in Danish fin de siècle society. The book was considered pornographic and immoral at the time and was banned. After some time spent travelling and a successful lecture tour in Norway and Sweden, he settled in Copenhagen, and produced a series of novels and collections of short stories, which placed him in the front rank of Scandinavian novelists. Among his more famous stories are Faedra (1883) and Tine (1889).

Bang was a homosexual, a fact which partly isolated him in Danish cultural life and made him the victim of smear campaigns. He lived most of his life with his sister but found happiness for a few years with the Hungarian actor Max Eisfeld with whom he lived in Prague 1885-86.

Failed as an actor, Bang earned fame as a theatre producer in Paris and in Copenhagen. He was a very productive journalist, writing for Danish, Nordic and German newspapers, developing modern reporting. His article on the fire of Christiansborg Palace is a landmark in Danish journalism. Some of his books, including Tine and Katinka (English titles), were translated into many languages and filmed.

Of especial interest is Michael. Michael (also known as Mikaël, Chained: The Story of the Third Sex, and Heart's Desire) was a movie released in 1924 directed by fellow Dane Carl Theodor Dreyer (director of other notable silents such as The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)). Along with Different From the Others (1919) and Sex in Chains (1928), Michael is widely considered a landmark in gay silent cinema.

The film is based on Herman Bang's 1902 novel Mikaël. It is the second screen adaptation of the book, the first being The Wings, made eight years prior by gay director Mauritz Stiller. Michael, however, follows Bang's storyline much more closely than the earlier film version had done.

Herman Bang's last years were embittered by persecutions and a declining health. He travelled widely in Europe and died during a recitation tour in the USA.

1895 – Henry de Montherlant was a French writer of essays and novels (d.1972), as well as one of the leading French playwrights of the twentieth century.

Descended from an old noble family, he was educated at private schools at Jeanson-de-Sailly, then at the Sainte-Croix academy at Neuilly-sur-Seine, where his family lived.

Conscripted in 1916, he was wounded and decorated. Marked by his experience of war, he wrote Songe (Dream), an autobiographic novel, as well as his Chant funèbre pour les morts de Verdun (Funeral Chant for the Dead at Verdun), both exaltations of heroism during the Great War.

His early successes were works such as the tetralogy Les jeunes filles (The Young Girls) (1936-1939) and Les célibataires (The Bachelors) (1934). At this time he did a lot of travelling, mainly to Spain, Italy, and Algeria.

From 1929 he began to write for the theatre, plays such as La reine morte (1934), Pasiphaé (1936), Le Maître de Santiago (1947), Port-Royal (1954), Le Cardinal d'Espagne (1960). He is particularly remembered as a playwright. In his plays, as well as in his novels, he frequently portrayed heroic characters displaying the moral standards he professed.

In Le solstice de Juin (1941) he expressed his admiration for the German army and claimed that France had been justly defeated and conquered in 1940.

Montherlant concealed his pederastic tendencies from the public during his lifetime. In 1912, he had been expelled from the Sainte-Croix de Neuilly academy for a relationship with a fellow student. Although not openly gay, Montherlant treated homosexual themes in his work, including his play La Ville dont le prince est un enfant (1952) and novel Les Garçons (The Boys), published in 1969 but written four or five decades earlier. Les garçons and his correspondence with Roger Peyrefitte, (author of Les amitiés particulières (1943), also about sexual relationships between boys at a Roman Catholic boarding school), are the main testaments to this side of his character.

In 1960 Montherlant was elected a member of the Académie française. His presentation speech dwelt mercilessly on the geography of New Zealand.

According to Peyrefitte, some time in 1970 he was beaten up by some youths, which caused a serious injury to his eye, as a consequence of which he became progressively blind.

He committed suicide in 1972, swallowing a cyanide capsule and shooting himself in the head.

 Isherwood and Neddermeyer

1914 – Heinz Neddermeyer was a German citizen considered to be the first great love of writer Christopher Isherwood.

Heinz and Christopher met in Berlin on March 13, 1932 when Heinz was 17. Christopher would often describe their relationship as an adoption, since Heinz was so much younger and not entirely mature. The couple lived together in Berlin until May 1933 when, because of the rise of Hitler, they were forced to flee the country. They traveled Europe and North Africa until May 12, 1937 when Heinz was expelled from Luxembourg and forced to return to Germany. The next day he was arrested by the Gestapo and sentenced to three and half years of forced labor and military service. He survived the forced labor which was brief. Being conditionally freed if he would take a wife, he married a woman named Gerda in 1938 and had a son named Christian, his only child, in 1940. It was not uncommon for gay men to take this drastic turn in their lives after being arrested and sentenced to prison for homosexuality by the Nazi party.

Although Heinz and Christopher continued to correspond, Heinz would not see Christopher again until November of 1952 while Christopher was visiting England and Germany for productions of his "Berlin Stories".

In November 1956 Christopher received a note from Heinz stating that he had been in a political argument at the factory where he worked in East Berlin. Fearing arrest, he fled to Hamburg. Christopher sent him some money. Nothing else is mentioned of Heinz in Christopher's diaries other than fond memories of their past in various cities around Europe and a kind note from Heinz when Christopher's mother passed away in August of 1960.

Heinz died in 1984.

1935 – Warren Casey (d.1988) was an American theatre composer, lyricist, writer, and actor. He is best known for being the writer and composer, with Jim Jacobs of the stage and film musical Grease.

In the mid-1960s, Casey met Jim Jacobs while acting with the Chicago Stage Guild, and the two began collaborating on a play with music about high school life during the golden age of rock 'n' roll in the 1950s. Entitled Grease, it premiered in 1971 at the Kingston Mines Theater, one of the pioneering companies of Chicago's off-Loop theater movement, in the Lincoln Park section of Chicago. Producers Ken Waissman and Maxine Fox saw the show and suggested to the playwrights that it might work better as a musical, and told them if the creative partners were willing to rework it and they liked the end result, they would produce it off-Broadway.

Casey quit his day job as a department store lingerie buyer and the team headed to New York City to collaborate on what would become Grease, which opened at the Eden Theatre in downtown Manhattan, moved to Broadway, and earned him a Tony Award nomination for Best Book of a Musical. The show went on to become a West End hit, a hugely successful film (for which he and Jacobs wrote additional songs), and a staple of regional theatre, summer stock, community theatre, and high school drama groups.

Casey was gay and he died of AIDS-related complications in Chicago at the age of 53. At the time of his death he was writing a musical with the Brazilian performer Valucha deCastro.

1943 – Jamie Gillis (d.2010) was an American pornographic actor, director and member of the AVN Hall of Fame.

Gillis was born James Ira Gurman in New York City into a Jewish family and graduated from Columbia University. His parents named him Jamie after the Tyrone Power character in the film The Black Swan (1942), and he took the name Gillis from the girlfriend he was living with when he made his first films.

He appeared in more than 470 movies as an actor. He also directed several adult movies. Openly bisexual, he appeared in many gay porn films, including a sex scene with Zebedy Colt in the 1975 BDSM-themed film The Story Of Joanna. Gillis also appeared in the mainstream Hollywood film Nighthawks (1981) as the boss of Lindsay Wagner's character.

He was a pioneer in the pornographic style known as Gonzo. In addition to starring in the first Buttman film, he also created the influential On The Prowl series. Featuring a porn star who rides in a limo looking for regular guys to have sex with, the video series was very popular and inspired a scene in the movie Boogie Nights. He also co-produced the popular Dirty Debutante series with fellow director and performer Ed Powers, as well as the Walking Toilet Bowl series of films that focused on golden showers and coprophilia.

Gillis died on February 19, 2010 in New York City from melanoma, which was diagnosed four or five months earlier. In an audio interview given to The Rialto Report shortly before his death, Gillis stated that in the 1970s he'd wanted his ashes to be scattered in Times Square, but years later he changed his mind as "clean Times Square would contaminate them".

1951 – The American R&B singer Luther Vandross was born on this date (d. 2005).

Initially content to remain in the background as a backing singer and producer - he toured with David Bowie in 1974 and sang backing vocals on the Young Americans (1975) album - Vandross was encouraged to take centre stage by Roberta Flack, who thought he had a unique talent. His breakthrough to major chart success came as lead singer with Change, and he went on to have a string of million selling hit solo albums, and successful collaborations with other artists, throughout the 80s and 90s.

During Vandross' entire career he was 'dogged' by questions regarding his sexuality. He never married, his name was never romantically linked in the media with women. Although Vandross never explicitly denied being gay, he never publicly acknowledged it either. He generally fielded questions by saying that his 'busy lifestyle' made marriage difficult and indicated that, in any case, 'it was not what he wanted.' Many gay publications have stated that Vandross' gayness was an 'open secret' in the music business, but even now it is rarely spoken of.

He died of a heart attack in Edison, NJ at 54. Some of his songs are: Endless Love, Always and Forever, Dance with My Father and Your Secret Love.

His unusual middle name "Ronzoni" was given him by his mother in thanks for the comfort that Ronzoni brand pasta products gave her during her pregnancy.

1959 – Douglas Sadownick is a gay American writer, activist, professor and psychotherapist. He co-created The Buddy Systems (1985) with Tim Miller, with whom Sadownick was involved in a 14-year relationship.

Born in the Bronx, Douglas Sadownick attended Columbia College for his B.A., New York University for his graduate work in English, and the graduate program in clinical psychology at Antioch University for a Master's of Arts in Clinical Psychology. He received his Ph.D. from Pacifica Graduate Institute in Clinical Psychology in 2006. His dissertation was entitled, Homosexual Enlightenment: A Gay Science Perspective on 19th Century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

He is the founding director of the nation's first LGBT Specialization in Clinical Psychology, at Antioch University, and he is also the Founder of Colors LGBTQ Youth Counseling Center, founded in 2011, with Philip Lance, an LGBT affirmative psychologist and community organizer. He is also a co-founding member of the Institute for Uranian Psychoanalysis , which is the first Institute in the world dedicated to deepening homosexual self-realization. He was also a principal co-founder of Highways Performance Art Space in 1989.

His work Sacred Lips of the Bronx (1994) was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award. His second book, Sex Between Men: An Intimate History of the Sex Lives of Gay Men, Postwar to Present, was published in 1996 and 1997. His articles have appeared in the Advocate, the Los Angeles Times, Genre, High Performance, the New York Native, and the L.A. Weekly. He received a GLAAD award for excellence in reporting in 1991. He works as a private practice psychotherapist in Hollywood, California.

McGehee (L) with working partner Siegel

1981 – Matus Valent is a European male fitness model born in Bratislava, Slovak Republic living in California.

As a youth, he played indoor volleyball and became the Junior Slovakian champion with his team ASK Inter. He was also on the Slovakian National volleyball team at age 19.

During his college years, he turned to beach volleyball, and in 2004 he became the California A-Category champion. After earning a University Masters Degree in Physical Education and Sports with Management in his hometown, he moved to California where he now lives.

 Matus Valent has appeared in numerous magazines (over 200 in the past 8 years) including Muscle & Fitness, Fitness RX, Flex, Muscle & Performance, Iron Man and many others with over 46 covers in the USA and internationally. He also has several catalog, romance novels & fitness book covers under his belt. (Not to mention his ample goodies)

His modeling career has lead to many other opportunities for Matus, including appearing in the music video for Kristine W's hit " Walk Away," modeling for the movie poster for "Pathfinder", being featured in national advertising for Otomix fitness clothing and active wear, national TV commercial for Shake Weight, TCORE, and ORECK XL vacuums and co-starring in the third season of Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency TV series. In 2009, Matus also appeared in ad campaigns for Prosource.net and Nutrition Express supplements superstores and made appearances in the films "Night at the Museum II" and "Baggage Claim."

1990 – On this date Queer Nation members showed up en masse at Macy's department store where Olympic gold medalist Greg Louganis was promoting a new swimsuit line. Queers arrived with WHEATIES cereal boxes with the swimmer's picture pasted on front, to recall the time the cereal maker rejected Louganis as a spokesperson, ostensibly because he is Gay.

How to say gay in Chinese

2001 – China removes homosexuality from their list of mental disorders.

Bōlī (玻璃)

The English translation of the Chinese word bōlī (玻璃) is crystal, glass, etc., and since the mid-90s it has been used as a slang term for homosexual men by the LGBT community in China and Taiwan. This slang word comes from the English acronym B.L., which has several versions, like Boy Lover, Boy’s Love, Boys Love. All of them serve to refer to the love between boys, men, etc.

T-shirt with the bōlī (玻璃) drawing.

[finch-kid]

definitely not the first one to point this out but this is literally a renaissance painting

#ted lasso #ted lasso season 3 #the bird man cant shut up

[poorshadowspaintedqueens]

I saw some stuff about a woman to be known to be well educated in tudor times needed to know the classics. Got me trying to think. What would be the westrosi equivalent of ‘the classics? They don’t have their Ancient Rome and ancient Greeks The Odyssey or iliad. I think it would be safe to assume Latin would be Valyrian. No idea what Renaissance humanism would be in westros

I’ve actually been pondering this for fanfic reasons.

One of the areas of worldbuilding that GRRM hasn’t gone into--and this is no shade on him; he’s got enough going on--is what we’d term ‘high culture’. Literature, art, drama, material culture. We hear about songs, including a subset of them written and performed in High Valyrian, which certainly suggests that people in Westeros preserved and engaged with older cultures. I imagine there’s a heavy Rhoynish influence in Dorne as well, and that the Valyrian influence is much stronger in the Free Cities than in Westeros.

In stories I’ve written, I’ve offhandedly mentioned things like ‘Rhoynish romances’ or ‘Valyrian drama’, on the assumption that these things existed even if they’re not explicitly mentioned in canon. Ancient drama and poetry flourishes across cultures and geographical boundaries. Art has literally existed since humans existed. We don’t get descriptions of paintings or tapestries in the books, but we know they’re around. We know some families have tombs and vaults, which implies the existence of sculpture and decoration. In the case of the Starks, they’ve been making tomb effigies since...idk? Brandon the Builder? We know there are goldsmiths in Lannisport and that Myr is famous for a variety of crafts including glassmaking and lacemaking (similar to Venice) and that Tyrosh is known for dyes. We get tons of descriptions of outfits but very few of dressmakers or craftspeople.

One of the things I have appreciated about the shows (GoT in earlier seasons, HotD generally) is that they had to think about these things that were implicit in the text--what would people wear in certain climates? How would different castles be decorated differently to reflect their regional peculiarities? I loved that one of the ways that Alicent Hightower displayed her power in the later episodes of House of the Dragon was through interior decoration. It required minimal dialogue but it communicated so much.

I don’t suppose this answers your question exactly, but there’s definitely a sense of ‘Valyrian culture’, ‘Rhoynish culture’, ‘Andal culture’, and ‘First men culture’ that would have to manifest in art in some way, even if we don’t get details. How that translates into education is less clear given the stranglehold that the Citadel has on the way young nobles are being educated across Westeros.

#asoiaf #asoiaf culture #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and fire #i don't know how to tag this

[sushistyless]

mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he  laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

#maybe I’ll follow up with a part 2??? #also the ending seems so half assed I’m sorry sheushjs #anyway just thank you SOOO much for reading :( #my writing #Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x yn #Harry styles fluff #writer harry styles #artist Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #soft harry #harry fluff #sushistyless #mist #strangers to lovers

[caseylicious]

Hello! I like your writing and I was wondering if you were willing to do a headcanons request. It would be the rottmnt boys (separate) x reader (gn).

The prompt is that the reader is someone who makes their own music. The reader has made friends with them, often hanging out with the boys. The reader doesn't play that many romance-related songs, but recently they have been playing more of them. These songs turn out to be about them! But the reader made the lyrics vague enough to where they could have plausible deniability that it isn't (they are nervous that their crush doesn't the same way about them). Then one day, they sorta figure it out.

Apologies if the prompt is badly explained😅 I'm not used to making these sorts of requests.

Love Song.

Summary: How do the brothers take a song made for them?

Character: Leo, Raph, Mikey, and Donnie.

Reader: GENDER NEUTRAL

Relationship: CRUSH

Warnings: None!

A/N: I understood the prompt perfectly, no worries! I genuinely think this sort of request is cute. Thank you for specifying hcs.. literally I don't know how much longer I can do whole on dialogue without passing out. I'm trying to get through these requests to write some other parts. I did get a bit lazy... I apologize.

As always! Please, Enjoy 💐

[ If you have any constructive criticism or corrections for any of my English do let me know! :) ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

You've been friends with the turtles for quite some time now! Meeting one of them by coincidence, then having April introducing you to each of them. They've been fans of your music before knowing that you were the one who created those beloved songs. Frankly, you were glad you had a safe-space for your music. But it was just so tiresome having the motivation to come up with one song.

That was until you hung out with one of the brothers. Of course you treated them all equally, it was just this particular brother made you feel a certain way. In a way that you just didn't know how to respond to. You talked to your bandmates about him and they've teased you immensely. But they sympathized with you realizing how this was eating you up. One of your them then suggested you write love-songs aimed towards your crush.

It took a lot of consideration if you wanted to perform such songs. You weren't really familiar with romance, but you knew songs helped you cope through hard times. Which now paints the scene of this story. On how you created a whole track devoted to one special turtle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

💙 Leo

He actually was quite a big fan of your music before you were introduced in person! I personally see him more of an "electric-rock" and "Pop" sort of music enjoyer.

It's to achieve his full "Nardo" personality! Ask his brothers, they could tell you how dramatic he is. He's just the type of turtle to be open about lip-syncing to Lady Gaga.

So when he found out you were the one releasing all of his favorite hits? He immediately idolized you.

Obviously he wanted to become friends with you for your personality, but he just couldn't resist knowing what else you were going to release!

Leo also idolized you for another reason.. he had a crush on you. You just were so cool! You had eyes and hair that he couldn't look away from. And your humor.. wow your humor was good. Stupid as it was, he always was on the edge of his seat whenever he awaited your band's album update.

Was it going to be flamboyant? Cool? Tubular? Is that even a word?

That was until you dropped out your new album, "Love-struck."

At first he was confused, since you were one to not upload heartwarming songs. It wasn't until he gave it a listen.

The way you sounded.. genuine, made his heart ache. He wanted to know who on earth this was for.

Or was he overthinking all of this, and this was just for you to earn some cash?

He didn't catch the hint for a while until he noticed one particular song called "Da Vinci." If you're not aware of the origin of the brothers' names, they all come from the renaissance era. Consisting of popular artists. This turtle's origin name came from, Leonardo Da Vinci.

His cheeks became the same color as the red markings on his face the moment he began listening. While there were very vague hints in the first few songs... there was one specific line of lyrics that alerted him.

"Won't you come to me, and paint me with your blue bandana"

He then confronted you after a couple days of the release, telling you how each song was cool to listen to. Pointing out the the "Da Vinci" song.

You quickly explained how you had feelings for him and didn't know how to really deal with them other than song. He found it sweet and you both stayed in each others' arms.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

❤️ Raph

When you were first introduced, he found you quite strange, but nice! You were friendly, kind, and very creative.

Like a Mikey-level creative.

Raph isn't really the turtle to listen to hardcore-rock or loud pop. But in his words, "Songs of hope." Donnie translates that into songs that aren't so loud to hurt his ears, but aren't so soft for him not to be able to jam out too.

But most of the time he doesn't listen to music. Until April recommended some of yours. And wow. You knew how to touch his heart.

Your voice was smooth which just made him feel homey! It was a nice feeling for him. So he chose to listen to more of your music.

While he as well began hanging out with you even more. You both just clicked! You just seemed to be so patient with him.

You were respectful of his wishes, and respected his space.

Soon enough, he developed feelings for you. But how could he out of the brothers tell you? His brothers teased him when they found out about his silly crush on you.

It wasn't until one day, Leo came rushing in with his phone. Calling out to Raph that you have released a new song.

The brothers circled around the phone as Leo pressed on the notification.

"Heart."

The lyrics to him were quite normal, a love song. Probably not meant for him... until Donnie commented.

Donnie mentioned how there was a huge theme between the color red, alligators, and the phrase "Heart's bigger than your body."

A couple of Ooo's and laughs filled the room as Raph fled out.

It was quite unexpected when Raph arrived. Almost breaking the door and all.

You both shared your feelings and shared a kiss in your studio.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

🧡 Mikey

Mikey is a fan of many genres of music! With artistic hands and ears of his, there's no song he won't give a listen to.

But even with his artistic creative spirit, even he hasn't listened to everything.

April introduced you and the two of you immediately got along just fine. It was no surprise to his brothers to how close you both became.

You just had a "groove" / vibe that he could vibe too. Is that weird? I don't think so.

Mikey had no clue you even had a band. Until Leo played some of your music on the boombox.

And alas you became his bias, his favorite artist.

He couldn't help but dance to all of your music! Whether if it was pop or rock. He painted how he saw each chorus, the song titles, everything.

And of course he showed you these paintings! He was quite surprised when you asked him to create your next album cover. But he agreed, because it was you!

It wasn't until when your album was released, with his pieces of art as the song covers. He was touched; honored.

If that wasn't obvious enough, there were some lyrics that he suggested in some of these songs. He found out when he read through the lyrics.

It wasn't until he was painting to your music, finding himself constantly paint hearts. Was this a secret message? He continued to paint. Finding out you were in love.. but with who?

Wait. Him?

OH! HIM.

You both of you confessed your feelings over text the next day. As he kicked his feet reading each of your texts to this day.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

💜 Donnie

Genuinely honest, he only listens is "techno." Nobody really expected for him to enjoy any other genre of music... until you came around.

At first he was a bit wary of you as a person. You just seemed so odd, not in a negative way! He just didn't know you very well and saw no reason to start a friendship with you.

But April reassured him you were a good person. A good friend! So he took her word, and wow. You were something far from what he's seen from humans.

You seemed to be able to express your feelings through words concerningly well. Which helped him out! He knew and understood what on earth you were trying to say to him.

Most of the time, he needs people to repeat what they said. Because either he couldn't hear, or genuinely didn't know what they were trying to say.

One day, you introduced him to your albums. He was a little hesitant at first, because he wasn't used to any other type of music. But when he placed on those headphones he saw everything in a different light.

Your music moved him as a turtle. Hence he began to heavily analyze your music. Donnie was surprised to the deeper meaning of each of them. How they all had a story and lesson. It helped whenever you needed to answer questions to what you were trying to say. He read between the lies of your music to know you better.

It showed him what you found most important in this small world, how you wished for humanity to flourish and evolve. It was fascinating...

Fascinating for him to catch feelings for you.

The day you released your new album, he got to work to analyze the album. Finding himself extremely shocked to how there were many references to him.

He quickly messaged you about the album, asking if you had feelings for him. It was a random question, but he desperately wanted to know. Having a whole album based around him? Wow.

When you mumbled out the words 'yes.' He didn't know how to react. But he was ready to take each step with you at a pace you both were comfortable with.

#morilicious #rottmnt 2018 #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader

[minty-mumbles]

My Top 5 Favorite LU Panels

In no particular order:

1.

This would probably be my header image on Tumblr if I liked warm colors better than cool colors. Badass Hyrule being badass, what's not to love?

2.

This update had so many good panels. I may be cheating a bit by claiming a whole page as one panel, but I can't decide between the one of Hyrule lit by the sun, Hyrule with Time's hand on his shoulder, and Hyrule saying he doesn't know the meaning of giving up. Perfection

3.

The Hair Ruffle™️! I am. going feral. Brotherly Warriors and Wind <3

4.

Another Hyrule one! The emotion here is just, ugh <3 It's his first time holding the Master Sword, something that clearly means a lot to the heroes, even if they don't care for it like Time. Time literally called the Master Sword the Hero's "birthright." If it were me, finally holding it would mean a lot. "I'm lost for words" indeed.

5.

The composition of this panel honestly looks like a renaissance painting, And then the way the sun filters though from behind? *Chef's kiss*

Honorable mentions goes to the page where the four champions replace the four Colors, and the page of wildlife drawings from the update with Wild being dramatic alone in the woods. Hopkins (and mushrooms) my beloveds <3

#most these are Hyrule and I am not surprised #I'm shocked I don't have one of Wild but tbh I don't think Wild is very photogenic #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu wind #lu twilight #lu dink

[pickypickypeak]

The kind of Wish criticisms that annoy the hell out of me are the ones where people unnecessarily compare the film to other movies released at the same time and even Disney's older works. There's nothing wrong with comparisons as a "what to do, what not to do example", the issue I have is that these are often be hella biased.

I like the classical and renaissance Disney movies but I would be lying my ass off saying they don't have problems (the racism, characters of color being played by white actors, outdated stereotypes and gender roles). Some people dismiss these issues because they prioritize on their own nostalgia more than improving them. Hell, they say Snow White was the worst princess but when Disney announces a live action remake, they defend her largely because a mixed race latina actress as casted to play her.

Some of these comparisons can be nonsensical if one were to pay attention. They say Trolls 3's villain song is better, even though Mount Rageous a pop cover mashup while This is the Thanks I Get?! is an original in a poo style. They say Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is a better movie about wishes even though TLW's theme is about appreciating life and the family and friends you have while Wish's themes is about encouraging and supporting each others to pursue their dreams. They use Bruce Almighty as a comparable movie yet they let Bruce off the hook despite he misused of his powers out kf laziness and causing the town into brief chaos before fixing it while they villainize Asha for Magnifico's own actions and the non existent "consequences" of returning people their wishes as if Magnifico allowed the non existent "bad wishes" to be in his hoard in the first place (he deemed Sabino's wish as bad because he didn't like knowing people other than him getting attention and he flat out spites Asha and Sabino during the ceremony).

THIS!!! Here’s an example (I probably used it before but it really fits now): some people are like “why have the forbidden book in the first place? It makes no sense the writing for this movie is so bad” well where the hell did the beast get the enchanted mirror?? How does the evil queen have a talking mirror in her castle and no one questions it? Where did the genie’s lamp come from? In frozen we just had to believe elsa was born with ice magic for no reason (they invented lore for the sequel but it wasn’t planned. They were gonna leave it with no explication hadn’t been for the incredible success). Theses are NOT plot holes; they’re just things you’re supposed to not ask questions about in a fairytale. It’s literally not that deep. Or better, you CAN ask questions and maybe imagine scenarios, but a movie isn’t inherently bad for not explaining it all to you. We’re not required to know how the queen got the mirror, or how magnifico got the book. It’s not “bad writing”; you’re just evaluating a disney fairytale movie through average mcu youtuber’s lens (everything needs to be addressed, otherwise it’s poorly written and “it makes no sense” (so what? Does a singing lion and warthog make sense in the first place?)).

Not to talk about the other problems you’ve mentioned; the stereotypes, the gender roles… as much as we love them, ANY movie has its issues. Many things wish gets blamed for, I can find them in other movies too. And actually, some of them aren’t even bad things, or at least they weren’t until wish did it. I’ve seen someone go “asha’s friends are just for the sake of diversity🙄” but like… is that a bad thing? Big hero 6 members were diverse too. Gee, winx are 20 years old and they’re all diverse. How am I supposed to take that criticism seriously? “They’re just forcing diversity on kids” my man I’ll tell you something. Remember when pocahontas (with all its issues) had a whole song about painting with the colors of the wind. Well I know this is shocking news to you but. It wasn’t actually the wind. She was talking about skin colors. The song was about racism. It’s from the 90s.

And the songs comparisons oh my. “Good to be king from journey to bethlehem is a way better villain song than this is the thanks I get” yeah, this is 100% relevant! It totally makes sense to draw a comparison between the guy who killed infants because he was not sure about which one was Jesus, and king magnifico from wish! I’m so surprised king herod’s song sounds so ominous! I’m sure ALL of these people have the journey to bethlehem soundtrack on their playlists and sing the songs out loud because they are SO much better!!❤️

Don’t get me started about the snow white drama, you are absolutely right, people get mad over something they couldn’t care less seconds ago (just like they did for ariel and tinker bell lmao). They’ve been shitting on snow white for years, there’s been ENDLESS youtube parodies and essays about disney princesses and especially snow white being “weak”, “a bad example for girls because she makes chores and settles for a man” and other bullshit but! As soon as the actress playing her (who happens to be not white) says the exact same thing, everyone is like “oh my goddd!!! Disrespect for our snow white!!! A woman can have love dreams!!! Walt disney is turning in his grave!!!” Like wow bro. You suddenly care now. You are so coherent and definitely not racist👍🏻

#I spent way too much writing this answer. but thanks anon I had fun #wish disney #king magnifico #beauty and the beast #snow white

[roach-works]

Hey Roach, coming in a bit late with a Boat Boys universe question - how is the theatre scene in New York in this future? Is Broadway still a thing?

broadway is still a thing, though any number of theaters in the original manhattan theater district have shuttered, decayed, been bought out, and refurbished. new york city remains a very crowded city with a functional upper crust, and humans remain what they are, so there's still plenty of music, dancing, acrobatics, and play performances.

as a patrician, solace king is expected to be a very educated and culturally literate patron of the arts, and personally very much enjoys keeping up with the upper crust theater scene of big-ticket musicals and operas. as he matures as a patrician and gains power, wealth, and reputation, it would be expected that he start funding particular facets of the arts scene that he favored, as well as acting as a direct patron (and sugar daddy) of an artist or even a stable of them.

patronizing athletes isn't at all unusual either, though sol had, until meeting rich merrill, not given a shit about any sport that wasn't dueling, and was young and fit enough to be a duelist himself, so he was a decade or so away from being expected to do anything with sports but watch them, play them, and bet on them.

it would be considered a bit unusual for him to bankroll an athlete at his current age and level of establishment, but everyone is going to take one look at rich's ass and correctly assume that sol is doing the extremely normal wealthy young man thing of handing his very first sidepiece whatever they want.

ANYWAY. over the last couple decades in this universe there's been a roman-led revival and modernization of classic italian opera forms, as well as a mix of new stories written in the style of classics, as well as ancient greco-roman myths and legends being adapted a bit like how Hadestown has been.

additionally, american audiences and small-scale street and renaissance fair performers have taken whole-heartedly to the lowbrow, satirical, saturday-night-live vibe of comedia del'arte, which has a somewhat updated cast of characters alongside ancient favorites.

notable american additions include Coniglietto, a rabbit-themed trickster-slave who performs a lot of acrobatics in a very skimpy amount of dark rags, and his violently humorless lord and master Signore Lupo d'Argento, who takes the stage in fine pale clothes and white face paint-- but these are the sort of scenes you'd see played out in abandoned courtyards and runoff parks, not on fine Broadway stages with a triple-digit dollar sign pinned to each seat.

#boat boys #the michigan fleet