As much as I did like Pearl I do prefer X better!

Style guides, callouts, and concept art by various artists

DC OC | Powers Explained Pt.2

Part 1

As a Star Sapphire, Venus has most of the typical powers owners of the ring do. However, she has an ability that separates her from the rest: crystallization. She can actually control the Star Sapphire crystal without its parasitic properties suppressing her.

Venus Parks | Star Sapphire

Over time, her body begins to slowly absorb the power of the ring, allowing Venus to use her Star Sapphire powers without its presence. This also leads to the development of new powers such as cosmic energy manipulation. It also forms a symbiotic bond with her.

Daliah Yukimura | Snow

Like her sister Camryn, Daliah is a Metahuman with her Metagene being snow manipulation as opposed to Camryn's ice crystals. This also makes her able to withstand cold temperatures without getting sick or getting hypothermia. Later on, she discovers she has an ice demon form after pushing her powers to the limits during a battle.

Her ice demon form is a result of a combination of her family's blessings from an ancient ice demon (explained here). However, Daliah only uses it in extreme circumstances.

Sasha Ray | Wavedancer

Due to her water spirit physiology, Sasha is faster, stronger, and more durable than the average human as well as possessing the ability to speak and breath underwater. On land, Sasha's senses become more acute.

Sasha is the most powerful person in both her bloodline and tribe, wielding godlike powers over all forms of water. Her abilities include hydrokinesis, weather manipulation, and storm creation.

Elyon Morningstar | Pandora

Elyon's main powers include black magic and the dark arts. She has knowledge of various forms and spells, drawing them from Hell and the demon realms. Because she naturally has magic in her blood, Elyon is considered a Magi.

Similar to sisters Jezebel and Azriel and Myra, Elyon had a Demon form. Not only is her physiology more enhanced in this state, but has greater magical abilities since she channels both her personal and ancestral magical energies.

Lilith Morningstar | Hex

Lilith's powers and abilities differ from Jezebel's despite sharing the same parents. She inherited the Fallen Angel powers including dark energy manipulation, possession, and control of both divine and demonic forces. But she rarely uses them since she's the techie and doesn't go out in the field.

Lilith has a Fallen Angel form which allows her to access the full extent of her powers as a dark divine being.

Brittney Foster | Hermia

As the reincarnation of an Amazon, Brittney has the powers of one including superhuman strength, speed, and durability. She is also bestowed the power to control light by Titania.

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @punkeropercyjackson @mayameanderings

Fun throwback. Gotta add a snocone too

https://twitter.com/brittneygriner/status/537310028365979650?s=46&t=QnOPd_tNZm2Sd6S-49-JCg

From 2014!!

BG eats two food groups. Candy and Meat.

2022 / 49

Aperçu of the Week:

"A democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch."

(Benjamin Franklin)

Bad News of the Week:

Usually Santa Claus brings gifts on December 6 - at least for the children who deserve it. This year, Ukrainian children, of all people, are out of luck. The European Union had pledged 18 billion euros for the coming year - independent of military aid - so that the Ukrainian civilian state would remain capable of acting. So that, for example, kindergartens and schools can continue to operate and a bit of normality can be maintained.

But now Hungary has blocked precisely this aid at the meeting of EU finance ministers: Hungarian Finance Minister Mihaly Varga vetoed the decision, which, like so many others, requires unanimity. Surely this was no coincidence, as the same meeting was also supposed to be about freezing financial aid to Hungary for not implementing rule-of-law reforms and fighting corruption the way it needs to. This decision was postponed - so the veto was simply blackmail.

Good thing the EU doesn't want to be blackmailed. "There must be no discount here for opportunism," said German Finance Minister Christian Lindner in response. The 26 other EU states now want to seek an agreement to provide the money for Ukraine by another route.

Bad thing that this is likely to be difficult. Precisely because of the unanimity principle. With the signing of the Treaty of Rome in 1957, the precursor of the EU, the European Economic Community, was founded. By only 6 countries. Who were very much in agreement about the common goals. Today there are 27 countries, not really all of which can be counted as a community of values.

The result is a cumbersome apparatus that has largely failed to adapt its processes and structures to the changing situation. The smallest country, Malta, has a population of just 320,000. And yet, in principle, it has the same voting weight as, for example, Germany - which, with over 83 million, represents 260 (!) times as many inhabitants. One can find that unfair. Just as California can find it unfair that with 69 times the population it sends just as many senators to Washington as Wyoming.

The protection of minorities is fundamentally a high good. If you want to apply that in this context. In almost all democracies, the principle of equality (Latin "ius respicit aequitatem": "The law respects equality") is a principle of constitutional law. One man, one vote. If this is not applied - for reasons that are certainly just as good - there would at least need to be ways and means of preventing abuse of the disproportionate weight of votes. But these do not exist. And that is why little Hungary can paralyze big Europe.

Good News of the Week:

Crazy people are everywhere. Conspiracy theories, too. But sometimes not even my great imagination is enough to explain to me what ideas one can come up with. Take the so-called "Reichsbürger" ("Citizens of the empire") for example. In principle, they claim that the Federal Republic of Germany does not exist. Because they deduce from absurd interpretations of the constitution, papers of the four occupying powers after World War II or the 2-plus-4 treaties on German reunification that this country was never properly founded. So the German Reich would continue to exist, be occupied and subjugated by a private law organization.

This leads them to deny the state any legitimacy to represent its citizens. And, in fact, they place themselves above the law - after all, the constitutional state is "not responsible" for them, so to speak. But only they themselves. Unfortunately, this leads not only to harmless craziness such as hoisting the imperial flag over their homes, but also to actual danger for state institutions. In the week just ended, it came to light that a frighteningly large group of these Reich citizens had actually planned the violent overthrow of the government. In other words, terrorism.

Among the leaders are such illustrious personages as a prince, a Corona-denying doctor, a top chef or a judge and former members of the parliament of the AfD - there the name "Alternative for Germany" gets a whole new meaning. Particularly frightening, however, are various former police officers and even elite soldiers. In other words, the armed arm of the movement. Last Wednesday thus saw the largest anti-terrorism operation in the history of the Federal Republic to date: some 3,000 officers from the federal and state governments were and are on the job, conducting raids in 11 states, collecting evidence and executing arrest warrants.

The Federal Prosecutor's Office accuses around 50 men and women of having formed a terrorist organization with the aim of eliminating the constitutional order of the Federal Republic of Germany and establishing a state modeled on the German Reich of 1871. Among other things, the group planned to storm the Reichstag building (Germanys Capitol Hill), to bring about civil war-like conditions by attacking the power supply, to kidnap federal ministers and to depose the federal government. For the moment of the "seizure of power", people had apparently already been selected for important ministerial posts.

What started out as "self-administrators" and spread with lateral thinkers grew into a terror cell with an estimated 23,000 members of whom one in 10 is prone to violence. Fortunately, the potential danger was not dismissed as the harmless crankiness of aluhut wearers, but was correctly assessed, observed and analyzed in detail, and ultimately comprehensively and effectively suppressed. The rule of law, which is according to them not supposed to exist, thus functioned solidly. And it has protected its citizens and officials against danger from within.

Personal happy moment of the week:

We have just returned from the Christmas market. In the snowy parc of Rottach-Egern on the shores of Lake Tegernsee in the midst of the foothills of the Alps. A breathtaking and romantic scenery. With good friends and all the children. With fireplaces and a live brass band. But above all with culinary delights to eat and drink. All in all, for me, the most beautiful combination of this season.

I couldn't care less...

...that many South Koreans will soon be officially younger. The parliament in Seoul passed legislation on Friday to abolish the "traditional method of calculating age." According to the so-called "Korean age," a baby is already one year old at birth. And on every January 1 - rather than on his or her birthday - one year is added. As a result of the abolition, many South Koreans will soon be formally - "in line with international standards" - one or even two years younger. After all, I've always been bad at math. But apparently I had understood a few basic principles earlier than Korean traditionalists.

As I write this...

...snow is falling for the first time this season. And it really does: neighbors shovel garages free, children build snow castles, the bushes in the garden have 20 cm thick white caps on. Very nice. But for us, stupidly, also annoying. Because we won't have a car with winter tires until almost two weeks from now. Therefore, my wife was shopping today on foot and with a backpack, I will ride my bike at -11 degrees celsius to the train station tomorrow morning and next week we will rent a winterized car for a big combined errand trip. Everything has a price.

Post Scriptum:

U.S. basketball player Brittney Griner was arrested entering Russia for cannabis oil, which is legal in her home country, and sentenced to nine years in prison. Russian arms dealer Viktor But earned the nickname "Merchant of Death" as well as 25 years in prison in the U.S. for illegal weapon traffic in troubled areas. Due to a deal that even involved Joe Biden, both are now free - after a prisoner exchange at Abu Dhabi airport. Looking at these two calibers, I realize who the real winner of this deal is. Hint: not a Democrat.

I rewrote the first chapter of My Immortal if it were a super pretentious literary fiction novel

I came up with this idea at like 3am and I'm not great at litfic, so I just dialed up the purple prose to 10 and hoped for the best lmao

here it is:

My Immortal

Chapter 1

Slush battered my dorm room window, half-rain, half-snow, existing somewhere between two states of matter. Siblings of a sort, meshed in disharmony, coating the campus outside in its misery. I watched as the pretty-in-pink girls with their fluffy faux-leather boots and paper thin leggings slipped and struggled their way across the courtyard. Suffering. I loved it.

One of them, a girl in garish Aeropostale garb, caught my eyes, and her face twisted with bitterness. Her minions gathered around her, “are you okay, Brittney? What’s the matter, Brittney?” but she didn’t answer them. A petty impulse gripped me, and I raised a single night-painted nail, baring my teeth in a wicked grin and making sure all of her friends saw the crude gesture. Brittney and her entourage stormed off, and I waved them away with self-satisfaction.

I returned to my vanity, picking out bottles and jars and palettes of Hot Topic-brand makeup. My tastes were simple, but refined. Unlike the baby blue and bubblegum that all the other girls wore, I understood the need for contrast. Where there is heat, you need cold; where there is light, there will be dark. White foundation, black lipstick. And, perhaps, a bit of eyeliner and some red eyeshadow for flare.

Black is an essential part of my wardrobe. It’s how I stand out from the mindless masses, how I tell the world that I’m not like other girls. I find variety through texture—lace for my corset, leather for my miniskirt, stitched canvas for my combat boots. Any colors I use are bright, but they’re carefully placed. Pink for my fishnets, red and purple highlights for my long ebony hair, neon bright like patterns on a poisonous frog.

The year 2006. My seventh and final year at Hogwarts. It was hard to believe I had made it this far—focusing on your studies isn’t easy when you’re always the center of attention. I had men tripping over their heels for me left and right, an intensely annoying phenomenon. I could spell it out for them a million times, that they could never handle me, that I don’t want to talk to preps and normies, and still they simper, my words like olive oil sliding off their brains. The fact that I was a vampire apparently wasn’t enough of a deterrent, nor was the hatred behind my icy blue eyes.

I walked outside, the cold air like a cooling balm against my pale skin. There was rarely any sun in Hogwarts during the winter months, the ideal environment for me. I was almost sad this was my last year. I took a deep breath, then walked out into the courtyard, with little more than a lacy parasol—black, like always—to shield me from the slush.

Once I reached the middle of the courtyard, I saw him. Draco Malfoy, standing in an adjacent walkway speaking to a few of his friends. Blond hair whipping in the wind, almost blending in with the frost. One of the few men at this school that I could tolerate. I recalled the day I met him, our first day in Potions class. The teacher spoke my full name when calling attendance, “Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way.” A mouthful, but one I owned with pride. He called the name of the boy sitting next to me, “Draco Malfoy.”

He turned to me once we broke off to work in groups. “Your last name is Way?” he said, a glint of curiosity in his captivating hazel eyes. A mischievous grin split his face, and he said, “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Gerard Way, would you?”

That wasn’t the first time I heard the comparison, but it was also how I knew Draco wasn’t like other guys. He was actually cool. “I wish,” I said, smiling for the first time that day. "because he's a major fucking hottie."

“You look more like Amy Lee,” he replied.

I was charmed. I couldn’t help it. “You can call me Ebony,” I replied. “Like my hair.”

He spotted me in the courtyard, and his hazel eyes lit up. “Hey, Ebony!” he said, waving eagerly.

I felt myself blush as he approached me. “What’s up Draco?”

A small breath escaped his lips, as the sound of my voice seemed to bring something out of him. A short burst of exhilaration, perhaps at hearing his name spoken on my lips. A shade of longing passed over his face, and he was suddenly shy. “Nothing,” he finally said, still staring at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I paused, noticing my friend Willow behind him waving at me and calling my name. The bell for class rang, an infuriating interruption that made my stomach drop. Reluctantly, Draco and I parted ways.

END

hope you enjoyed this mania-fueled atrocity I've committed lmao

i truly wanted to write today but i'm exhausted. i had to shovel a lot of snow from around the run and then i spent like. four solid hours just being sad about watson. <3 <3 but! i'm really excited for the prospect of hatching cluck and brittney m. crockpot eggs this spring! :D

Amazing Grace

This isn't edited, it's hardly coherent. But this is 2.7k words on what happened 17 years ago as I experienced it and how it's the weight I still carry today.

4/16/2007

TW: School shooting, video links of a poem reading and a piece of music.

Snow. It was snowing. In Spring. How weird is it, that of all the days, that this Monday when the flowers are trying to bloom and the trees are spreading their wings, that it is snowing. What a beautiful sight to see. My quiet campus blanketed in the serenity of a late and fluffy snow.

Grabbing my laptop and stuffing it into my bag, opting for a heavier coat this morning. Slipping my phone into your pocket as you make your way out of your dorm suite and off to your advanced freshman chemistry class. Stepping outside and taking in a deep breath, the chilly air feels good in your lungs.

Mornings are always bustling, but you don’t notice that it’s calmer on this morning. You miss the hushed whispers and skittering students and staff getting back to their dorms and offices at 9:30 am. Instead, you pull out your cell phone and call home.

“Can you BELIEVE that it’s snowing today? Oh, there was an alert sent in email saying there was a police call to a dorm, but it was handled. Yeah I’m safe. But this snow, it’s April! How crazy!” your mother requests you call your father just to check in. He would be worried otherwise.

“Hey dad, yeah there was a police alert about something in one of the dorms, but they said it was handled. SNOW ohmygosh it’s SNOWING!!”

The budding bushes are covered in ice. The walkways and staircases were slick and uneasy. Better be careful crossing the drillfield, don’t want to slip and fall!

Hey, why are there flashing blue lights back there in the academic buildings? Why is there a cop SUV in front of Buruss Hall and why is that cop pulling out a shockingly large gun?

Don’t pay it any mind. This is a big school, a school with a full police department because any number of things can go wrong or they’re training or…

Why is it so quiet over here? You know classes aren’t typically over for another 10 minutes, but it should be busier this time of day.

Hm, the lecture hall is mostly empty. Where is everyone? Is that an email? Is class cancel-no that’s the professor walking in right now. At least class isn’t canceled, it sure would be frustrating to cancel a 10:10 am class at 10 am.

Oh, there is an email.

ACTIVE SHOOTER SITUATION. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY

Wait, when did that arrive? 9:50 am.

What the fuck did you see walking to class? What the fuck was that. Is that why the lights were flashing?

Fortunately one of your classmates was several steps ahead of you and already pressing your professor for answers. No one knew what the questions were other than if we were safe. Your professor was the department chair, surely he had a better line to finding an answer than waiting for another email to arrive?

You figure that we can distract ourselves with frivolous viral videos in the meantime blasted on the hall’s projectors.

But who cares about oh my gawd shoes and being kind to Brittney when the emails start to arrive about how there are dead students in the dorms and in the lecture buildings. Please let us out. Please let us run to our dorms and our apartments and to our families both found and blood.

Finally, we receive the “all clear” email and we rush back to our rooms.

Buildings are locked, suite doors typically left open to foster community are shut and locked.

Stumbling into your room, no one is home. But you have a message from your roommate that she is with her boyfriend and they are leaving soon for her home. You check your other messages. Your instant messenger is blown up from every contact asking if you’re safe. Oh good, everyone is safe. You even logged into that Facebook website to check on friends. Wait. What did they say? Who?? Oh no, and an email from your Band Director.

Gutted. Your head sinks to your desk, you’re slumped over in pain. He was mere weeks from graduation. 3 degrees. Honors for all. A light, a bright smile, a comforting hand. He just complimented your socks at the blood drive in….that dorm. Just a few weeks ago. What happened. Why is Stack dead.

One of your friends in the next suite comes over, you share an embrace, shoulders and arms as tissues.

“We should get food. Come with me?”

You drag yourself and a few other friends in the neighboring suite with you down the stairs to the closest dining hall. The award-winning food is bland, you’re not hungry. You all sit in relative silence trying to figure out what to say, who to look at, how to process. Returning back to your dorm, you friend invites you to his suite. You sit on the couch with others, your upperclassmen friends, all from band. All with stories extolling how wonderful Stack was. You agree to leave your computers alone and step away from your email for a few hours. You watch TV, do anything to distract yourselves. You think someone might even be having sex in the next room.

By dinner time someone brings by food they picked up off campus and everyone picks at it. At this point people have come and gone all day, with some saying their farewells as they choose to go back home until school opens up again.

Checking your email again, you see a long list of updates adjusting the death toll. The names of known victims. The gunman. Why does the number keep going up? Is it really over 20? What happened. You read a heartfelt email from your band director. You let yourself go, crying in your dark dorm room under your lofted bed. Tomorrow there will be a service for the community to gather. Those still on campus are suggested to attend in uniform and to stick together, there is comfort in the group.

Sleep is fitful that night.

Waking up, you have a missed call from home. “I heard classes are canceled. Do you want to come home?” offers your mother.

“Um, hold on. Let me check my email,” you climb down off your bed and open your laptop. Another name you recognize pops up in your email. “Please I want to go home. Erin died.”

She was your very first roommate. You moved out of her room before Spring semester because your friend had a spot open up in her suite and it was nicer accommodations. You didn’t really get to say goodbye to her. She was a good person. Energetic, smart, made friends everywhere.

“Your father and I are on our way, NOW.”

Unzipping the bag containing your marching uniform, you put it on with the same reverence as always, the comfort of knowing you are part of a larger group. One that is sharing the burden of this trauma. 330+ shoulders to cry on.

You make your way, linked in arms and hands with your friends as you head to the service. Extra security, the President of the United States is joining to make a statement. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t care that he is here. What a load of good it is after the fact.

Groups of students in shared apparel holding each other, chants of school cheers ringing out in solidarity. You get swept up in the fervor. It’s never felt this intense, and you’ve been on the football field when it really counts.

Nikki Giovanni reads a poem and it strikes every one of your hearts with passion. The entire gymnasium silent, save for sniffling and crying.

We are Virginia Tech. We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning. We are Virginia Tech. We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly, we are brave enough to bend to cry, and we are sad enough to know that we must laugh again. We are Virginia Tech. We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did nothing to deserve it, but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS, neither do the invisible children walking the night away to avoid being captured by the rogue army, neither does the baby elephant watching his community being devastated for ivory, neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water, neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy. We are Virginia Tech. The Hokie Nation embraces our own and reaches out with open heart and hands to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong, and brave, and innocent, and unafraid. We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imaginations and the possibilities. We will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears and through all our sadness. We are the Hokies. We will prevail. We will prevail. We will prevail. We are Virginia Tech.

And then, all at once. She finishes and an eruption of gratitude. Shouts, and cheers. In that moment, we start to heal.

LET'S GO HOKIES *clap clap clapclapclap*

Eventually you leave and depart back to your dorms. You need to tidy up and pack, your parents will be here soon. One of your friends joins you in your room for company. It’s comforting to not be alone.

Your parents give you the tightest embrace you’ve ever felt. And they whisk you home. You’ve sent off emails to concerned former teachers and others, setting up time to meet with them over the coming week.

But otherwise you just want to sit at home and sleep in your childhood bed.

The rest of the week passes by. You visit your high school to chat with some of your old teachers and you’re reminded why they were your favorite educators. They care, they listened, they gave you space.

During the week while classes were canceled, you begin to receive updates on how the rest of the semester will play out. Ultimately you are able to take a step back from your studies and attend lectures as you feel you can handle. It’s a nice gesture. You won’t come out of this semester with the best grades, but you won’t have to worry about failing because you’re too distracted.

Returning to school is surreal. There’s a bustle and buzz of activity - with 25,000 students there always is a constant hum of people. Last week excluded. But there’s a tingle at the back of your neck. Your brain jolting into alert as soon as your parents turn onto campus. Would this happen again? Could this happen again? All of your friends stick together as the semester plays out. You spend time with them next to the volleyball courts (you’re far too clumsy to get any enjoyment out of playing), playing video games in the dorms, and just avoiding the hard stuff. You can make it this last month, one day at a time. Besides, you have plans this summer! You’re taking a road trip to Canada, leaving the country for the first time ever!

Summer, everyone departs to seek the comfort of their families and bury themselves in summer jobs and internships. And maybe that’s a good time to seek professional help? You’d rather just spend time with your fiancée, particularly in his bed and at night. That trip to Canada was refreshing and just what you needed to get your head out of the dark and stormy clouds.

Ah but your mother wants you to come home at night. So that’s how you end up in therapy, for a suspected PTSD diagnosis manifesting in your desire, as an 18 year old who is 4.5 years into dating her boyfriend/fiancée, to spend alone time in bed together. You play along because you are a people pleaser, but you do make your opinions known to the therapist. She invites your parents into your third session where you have a charged discussion. And the ultimate guidance the therapist suggests? That you are not acting out, or in an unusual manner. You sigh in relief, immediately making plans for that night.

When you returned to school in the fall, a class of victims had graduated and freshman joined a shell-shocked and scared community. One that is healing by holding on to each other, by remembering those lost. And ready to embrace the hope of the new class.

But you are forever changed. You and your Marching Virginians. You return and pass your auditions and receive a new piece of music, “Amazing Grace.” Arranged specifically for the ensemble, specifically for April 16, 2007. In the peak of the song lives a set of chords to represent the 32 lives lost. The dissonance is uncomfortable, painful, harsh. The first time you played it, you cried. We all did. But the resolution, it is warm, it is the breath after holding it in. The deep inhale you take when the tears start to fall and you let your emotions out. It is a hard piece of music, but it is a necessary piece of music.

The band took it to several dedications and remembrance events that year. They played it less and less as the years went on. It’s a special piece, reserved for those moments taken to hold space for that day. But every time, the audience gives reverence and somehow make it to the end with a stiff upper lip. After exiting the performance space, there is comfort for those who are caught in emotions.

The semesters come and they go. It gets easier, but you aren’t the same person anymore. You keep telling yourself you have it handled, the therapist at home said you don’t have PTSD. So then why are you triggered with an uncomfortable regularity? You need to get into therapy.

Oh, good for you, finally scheduling an appointment to see the school therapist. Ah, but it takes three triage visits before you can start to talk to him about anything. Momentum, farewell. You don’t open up about what is swarming in your brain. The bad thoughts, the scary ones, the tragic ones. You’re sure it’ll work itself out eventually. You famously have a bad memory, so surely you’ll just forget the worst of it?

Four years at Virginia Tech completed. But do you have a degree now? Ha, funny. You never managed to pull together enough credits to graduate so you get the participation trophy of random class credits you can take home with you and apply to some other school and attempt to get that piece of paper you came here to achieve.

Four more years later you finally have a degree. Even better, it’s one you’re proud of. Time to put college behind you and start the next step of life. Get out of the East Coast and leave it all behind. Fresh start in California, you can finally get married and live with your fiancée.

Another April comes and goes. And like every year, you run away for the day to escape your demons. It works less and less each year. At least the alcohol dulls the cries.

And 17 years later, you’re still carrying that weight. You dread April. You can’t listen to any version of Amazing Grace without falling apart. You can’t watch any scenes in a movie or video game with a candlelight vigil or similar scene. You dread the days you have to explain this to your daughter and why you are terrified of how she may want to attend school in the US.

And 17 years later, you can’t stop telling people this tragic story and shrugging it off like it wasn’t the single most defining moment of your entire fucking life and you were only 18.

It’s fucked up. And nothing has fucking changed.

Okay, disclaimer here. I can't really call myself a true fan of Disney's Wish, just as it is. I do think the film had a LOT of really good ideas and I do think that a lot of artists and creative types put sincere work into it -- I mean, all one really has to do is look at the Wish art book to see that the creators wanted to salute a lot of Disney's overall legacy with their work. However the result turned out -- and I personally found it a bit half-baked with a lot of story and character elements that just didn't quite come together for me -- I like the overall concept enough that I've really enjoyed seeing the fandom embrace those good ideas and reinterpret them. I like the art people have started doing based on Star's old designs by artists like Brittney Lee. I like people writing drafts with villainous-couple-goals Amaya and Magnifico. I like people envisioning Asha as becoming a fairy godmother more in the vein of Whitney Houston's version of the Fairy Godmother in the 1998 Rodger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella! So everything I'm going to write here is from a place of sincerely wanting to add onto the original concept and perhaps improve on it, rather than just out of a desire to make petty pot-shots at the film.

With this out of the way, let me get to the crux of it.

(concept art by Brittney Lee, found in Disney's The Art of Wish)

Now of course people have discussed the concept of Star as a love interest for Asha before. And I won't lie, I do think it's cute! It could even offer a great potential for diversity if Star remained androgynous gender-wise, the way they are in the finished film. Honestly, even having a completely mute leading character and love interest throughout the entire picture would undoubtedly be a unique and special challenge for any animator and storyteller...and for those people who want to evoke old Disney projects, it would prove a great opportunity to build on the legacies of voiceless Disney characters like Dumbo, Bambi, and Tinker Bell, while still adding a new twist in the form of this character being magical and therefore being able to express their feelings not just through colors and body language like Tink does, but perhaps also through the instrumental score! You could embody the whole core of Fantasia -- a passion project of Uncle Walt's that he never saw appreciated in his lifetime but is widely considered to be a masterpiece of animation and music -- in one character!

This leads nicely into another tack this could've played into -- the idea that Star could be an embodiment of Golden/Silver Age Disney, while Asha embodies Renaissance/Revival Disney. Star could be endlessly optimistic and a bit naive, but strangely resilient -- something that seems fragile and helpless at first glance until you realize just how many people and creatures alike gravitate toward them and want to help and protect them. Meanwhile Asha could be all about proving herself -- she could want to become a powerful magician and do great things like her master King Magnifico, but lack confidence in her own abilities and feel isolated thanks to how much her service to and desire to honor Magnifico has isolated her from others.

Star would be Snow White to Asha's Tiana. The Aurora to her Mulan. The Tinker Bell to Asha's Elsa. The bright star to Asha's cool, thoughtful night.

And this is what I love most about this idea -- their relationship wouldn't need to be romantic. It could be platonic. It could be romance-adjacent. Or, if one wants to really go and do something different for a Disney movie...Star could be a child. A mute, sweet, brand-new star, one just born, that responded to a wish that Asha made when she thought no one could hear -- a wish she has trouble admitting to anyone, especially her mentor and toxic father figure, King Magnifico -- because as much as she plays contentment, there is a part of Asha deep down that wants something more. That remembers the loving embrace of her deceased parents and how much Magnifico can't quite capture that warmth and nurturing, however tight his hold might be and placating his words might be. And out of that wish is born this little bundle of stardust, which Asha is now suddenly responsible for and wants desperately to hide and protect from Magnifico.

In essence, Asha would be put in the same position that Willow is put in, when he suddenly becomes the caretaker for baby Elora in the film Willow.

Now that would change up the context for At All Costs, wouldn't it? This lullaby-like song would resonate awfully well in a story where Magnifico sees Asha as an apprentice and almost surrogate daughter and wants to "protect" her a la Mother Gothel by controlling everything in her life, while Asha sees this new Star who's now reliant on her and feels this strange, new desire to protect them from the man who filled the role of her father after his death in a selfless way that man could never understand?

If someone tried to hurt you... I don't see how that could happen! I'd fight for you in ways you can't imagine! Felt this? No, I haven't -- I hope it would be alright to Stay right here beside you...

It would be such a beautiful picture on how love can be both selfish and selfless -- how a villainous person can love, perhaps, but that that love is poisoned by the desire to mold someone into your image and hoard that person away from others who could "take them away" or "change" them...how love at its truest core is selflessness and fighting on behalf of others, to give them a world where they could live safely. And again, this could be either in a scenario where Star is Asha's "child" or her peer -- for a world can't be safe for all if anyone is under threat because of who we are. And Asha, Star, and Rosas all deserve to know true happiness, not just mindless, complacent contentment -- the happiness that can come from the birth of ideas we never thought possible, until we're given the freedom to dream and dream big.

can we talk about ashlyn watkins's dunking

like first she did it AS A FRESHMAN last season

and then again this january!!!!!

from cbs sports:

South Carolina's Ashlyn Watkins is the ninth women's Division I player to dunk in a game. The other eight are Brittney Griner (Baylor), Candace Parker (Tennessee), Michelle Snow (Tennessee), Fran Belibi (Stanford), Georgeann Wells (West Virginia), Charlotte Smith (North Carolina), Sancho Lyttle (Houston) and Sylvia Fowler (LSU).

“It’s impossible to be in love with all the six queens’

The Six queens in question:

Megan Gilbert, Ashleigh Weir, Holly Musgrave, Oliver Wickham, Annabel Marlow, Shimali De Silva, Renee Lamb, Christina Modestou, Natalie Paris, Genesis Lynea, Aimie Atkinson, Izuka Hoyle, Jaye’J Richards-Noel, Millie O’Connell, Alexia McIntosh, Maiya Quansah-Breed, Grace Mouat, Vicki Manser, Courtney Stapleton, Adrianna Hicks, Andrea Macaseat, Abby Mueller, Brittney Mack, Samantha Pauly, Anna Uzele, Mallory Maedke, Nicole Kyoung-Mi Lambert, Courtney Mack, Shantel Cribbs, Courtney Bowman, Sophie Isaacs, Danielle Steers, Zara Macintosh, Cherelle Jay, Hana Stewart, Collette Guitart, Candace Furbert, Hazel Karooma-Brooker, Caitlin Tipping, Sophie Golden, Alicia Corrales-Connor, Viquichele Cross, Bryony Duncan, Natalie Pilkington, Lori McLare, Amy Bridges, Lauren Drew, Maddison Bulleyment, Lauren Byrne, Shekinah McFarlane, Jodie Steele, Athena Collins, Cassandra Lee, Jennifer Caldwell, Harriet Watson, Jasmine Shen, Kelly Sweeney, Jessica Niles, Georgia Carr, Amelia Walker, Liv Alexander, Elizabeth Walker, Maddison Firth, Laura Blair, Chloe Zuel, Kala Gare, Loren Hunter, Kiana Daniele, Courtney Monsma, Vidya Makan, Ella Burns, Karis Oka, Shannen Alyce-Quan, Jade Marvin, Lucy Aiston, Gabriella Stylianou-Burns, Scarlet Gabriel, Rebecca Wickes, Megan Leung, Sophie Rose Middleton, Abbi Hodgson, Kara Ami Mcraenor, Emily Harrigan, Gabrielle Smith, Melissa Ford, Kaylah Attard, Fia Houston-Hamilton, Rhiannon Bacchus, Rhiannon Doyle, Carly Mercedes Dyer, Elena Gyasi, Keirsten Hodgens, Artemis Chrisoulakis, Ellie Sharpe, Sadie Hurst, Melinda Porto, L’Oreal Roache, Wesley Carpenter, Maya Christian, Brianna Mooney, Meghan Dawson, Marilyn Caserta, Ashlee Waldbauer, Adrianna Glover, Alize Ke’Aloha Cruz, Kristina Walz, Amy Di Bartolomeo, Amanda Lindgren, Claudia Kariuki, Dionne Ward-Anderson, Tsemaye Bob-Egbe, Meesha Turner, Paisley Billings, Danielle Rose, Roxanne Couch, Esme Rothero, Rachel Rawlinson, Lauren Irving, Danielle Mendoza, Shelby Griswold, Kennedy Carstens, Abigail Sparrow, Jarynn Whitney, Madeline Fansler, Channing Weir, Princess Victomé, Sunayna Smith, Chloë Hart, Casey Al-Shaqsy, Aiesha Pease, Jaina Brock-Patel, Alana Robinson, Grace Melville, Leesa Tulley, Harriet Caplan-Dean, Khaila Wilcoxon, Storm Lever, Jasmine Forsberg, Olivia Donalson, Didi Romero, Gabriela Carrillo, Cassie Silva, Kelly Denice Taylor, Erin Ramirez, Kelsee Kimmel, Phoenix Mendoza, Chelsea Dawson, Chiara Assetta, Cristina D’Agostino, Joy Woods, Bre Jackson, Keri Rene Fuller, Brennyn Lark, Ayla Ciccone-Burton, Holli’ Conway, Brianna Javis, Gabbi Mack, Casey Esbin, Ellie Wyman, Sasha Renae Brown, Nicole Lamb, Aja Simone Baitey, Willow Dougherty, Kayla McSorely, Emily Rose Lyons, Chelsea Wargo, Hannah Taylor, Jessie Bodner, Jasmine Hackett, Janice Rijssel, Lucia Valentino, Elena Breschi, Meg Dixon-Brasil, Sarah McFarlane, Reca Oakley, Gerianne Perez, Zan Berube, Amina Faye, Terica Marie, Aline Mayagoitia, Sydney Parra, Jana Larell Glover, Taylor Pearlstein, Aryn Bohannon, Cecilia Snow, Rhianne Louise McCaulsky, Baylie Carson, Koko Basigara, Monique Ashe Palmer, Leah Vassell, Hailee Kaleem Wright, Leandra Ellis Gaston, Bella Coppola, Nasia Thomas, Zoe Jensen, Taylor Iman Jones, Aubrey Matalon, Kristina Leopold, Rae Davenport, Gianna Grosso, Kathryn Kilger, Bethany McDonald, Jillian Worthing, Haley Izurieta, Jasmine Smith, Lois Ellise Reeves, Alyssa Giannetti, Eden Holmes, Jaelle Laguerre, Kate Zulauf, Lee ARumSoul, Son Seungyeon Kim Ji Woo, Sophiya Pae, Park Hye-na, Park Ga-Ram, Kim Ji Sun, Choi Hyun-sun, Kim Ryeo Won, Heo Sol-ji, Yoo Ju-hye, Hong Ji Hee, Nicole Louise Lewis, Laura Dawn Pyatt, Erin Caldwell, Kenedy Small, Lou Henry, Aoife Haakenson, Ellie Jane Grant, Izi Maxwell, Tamara Morgan, Shakira Simpson, Fiorella Bamba, Lucinda Wilson, Caitlyn De Kuyper, Amanda Lee, Gabriella Boumford, Audrey Fisher, Brooke Aneece, Jaz Robinson, Julia Pulo, Maggie Lacasse, Krystal Hernández, Elysia Cruz, Lauren Mariasoosay, Julia McLellan, Darcy Stewart, Hailey Lewis

Packaging design by Cloud 88 Design

“Back in 2012, Mattel had contacted us to create toy packaging concepts for Disney's then unreleased movie Frozen. These designs are but a FRACTION of the concepts that were created for the project. The final image is one of the final packaging designs we created specifically for The Disney Store chain of stores.”

Some Ladies In Picrew

Top left to bottom right: Marietta Brooks (Glamor), Venus Parks (Star Sapphire), Daliah Yukimura (Snow), Diandra Sykes (Virus), Flordelis Munoz, Sasha Ray (Wavedancer), Elyon Morningstar (Pandora), Lilith Morningstar (Hex), Brittney Foster (Hermia), Mona Lisa Beauvais (Monochrome)

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @jasontoddssuper @honeysgalaxy @theautisticcentre @moonage-gaydream

Dahlias for Wendy

She calls herself Wendy because it’s feminine and as far enough from her deadname as possible.

The idea of Wendy as a name comes to her while she’s watching The Shining on a rainy May night when she’s eleven, and she sees Wendy Torrance beat her husband in the face with a baseball bat, and in a fucked up way; that name clicks for her. Mrs. Torrance is trapped, scared and hysterical, just like her. After Jack Torrance freezes to death in the snow, and the credits roll, she repeats the name to herself.

“Wendy, Wendy, Wendy,” she repeats. The name is foreign to her, but it feels right.

30 minutes later, Wendy creeps into her parent’s room, leaning on the doorframe. She talks to them both, talking about her new revelation about her new name.

“Please call me Wendy.”

Her parents embrace her in a hug, telling her they love her, that she’ll always be their little Wendy.

A few months later, when her parents are away for work, Wendy sneaks into their room, stealing one of her mother’s dresses. It’s pink and long, reaching her mid thigh, and lace adorns the hem and short puffed sleeves.

Wendy feels like Buffalo Bill from The Silence of The Lambs when he wears the skin of half a dozen women: horrifying, dirty, wrong.

But when she strikes a pose in the full length mirror near the doorframe, a sense of euphoria fills her. She doesn’t look that bad now that she’s actually looking at herself.

“I like it,” she says aloud, hoping Julie won’t hear her (she’s supposed to be outside playing), “Wish it wasn’t so prudish though.”

Before she can try on another dress, she hears her mother coming up the driveway and into the house. Wendy freezes, paralyzed by fear, by the thoughts of what her mother might do to her.

She’s halfway undressed when her mother walks into the room, and time seems to freeze for a minute.

The older woman gives a tired smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“Out of all dresses, why that one? It’s so…”

Wendy finishes her sentence, “Prudish? Homely?“

The two of them burst out into laughter, clutching their stomachs and falling to the floor.

Her mother helps her change out of the dress, and in no time she’s back to a white T-shirt and basketball shorts.

“I’ll buy you a new dress. Something less ‘Little House on the Prairie’,” she says as Wendy trudges down the hall to her room.

If by chance Wendy notices a silk lavender minidress draped over her chair three days later, she doesn’t say anything.

A month after that, in the dog days of August, Wendy asks to try on makeup.

She and Jason are suspended in the latter’s hammock in his backyard, sipping cherry Cokes and discussing Wendy’s transition when she brings the topic of makeup to the table.

“I want to try makeup. Maybe some eyeshadow, mascara, I dunno. Too much will make my face feel heavy,” Wendy absentmindedly says, crumpling up her can of coke and tossing it into the outside garbage can.

Jason sets his can on the table beside the hammock and leans forward, his chin in his hands.

“I think you’d look good either with lipgloss or lipstick. I think too much would make you look super made up and fake,” he states, crossing his legs. Wendy frowns.

“Well I wanna look made up and fake. I wanna look…like other girls. Like, I dunno…Brittney Spears or Christina Aguilera. I’d rather look super fake than look like…a boy.” She spits boy with such venom, Jason thinks the word is like poison to her.

He slaps his knee, and maneuvers his way out of the hammock, and trudges his way through the grass.

“Wait, where are you going?” Wendy’s voice is filled with fear, is Jason going to tell his parents? Will he laugh at her?

He turns around and smirks. “To go get some money! We’ll go to a drugstore and get some makeup to start you off,” he says, a hint of mirth in his voice.

Wendy goes to follow him inside, as Jason calls out to his mother that the two of them are going to the corner store, and she alerts him to 20 dollars in their junk drawer. The two of them shout thanks to Mrs.Wise, hop on Jason’s bike and ride off into the late afternoon sun.

40 minutes, a little waiting around and some debating later, Wendy and Jason are riding back from the drugstore, a bag of the makeup they purchased in the basket of Jason’s bike. There’s e.l.f lipgloss, Covergirl eyeshadow and Maybeline mascara in there, alongside some candy.

They hop off of Jason’s bike, Jason leads Wendy into the first floor bathroom of the Wise residence, setting the makeup onto the toilet tank lit and helping Wendy sit on the toilet.

“Alright,” he says, out of breath, “You ready do this shit?”

Wendy smiles eagerly and nods. “Uh, yeah! Go nuts I guess!”

Jason smirks and gets to work. He starts off with the eyeshadow, in a shimmery blue, and digs his thumb into the pigment, swiping it over Wendy’s eyelids. Switching to his index finger, he feathers it out to the corners of her eye.

Mascara follows after, and Wendy opens her eyes and tilts her head back as Jason swipes the mascara wand on eyelashes, going back into the tube for at least 3 coats. Occasionally he pokes her in the eye; and she has to prevent herself from crying.

Lastly, the lipgloss. Jason accidentally fucks it up and there’s lipgloss on cheek, but Wendy doesn’t care. She’s one step closer to feeling pretty, one step closer to geeking truly happy. Jason puts everything back into the bag, puts his hand over her eyes and leads her to the mirrors affixed above the sink.

“You ready to see your makeover?” he asks so earnestly and lovingly that Wendy thinks she might cry.

Wendy nods and smiles, and her friend takes this as the sign to remove his hands from her eyes. She looks into the mirror, studying her new appearance, and deduces that she looks…horrible.

The eyeshadow reaches just below her eyebrows, one of her eyeballs black with mascara and her lashes look like spiders with how clumpy they are, and her lips don’t even have gloss on them.

Not wanting to be dishonest, Wendy voices her thoughts to Jason.

“I look like shit, I’m sorry. Honest to g_d, I look like a clown,” she states, turning to Jason.

He playfully shoves her and grins. “Oh fuck you! You had me spend my money, and you don’t even like the look? Rude,” he isn’t mad at all, instead bursting out into laughter. Wendy follows soon after.

As they clutch their stomachs, holding onto each other so they don’t fall, Wendy feels a sense of ease fill her. Sure, she may look stupid, but looking stupid and fake and plastic eases the pain of not looking like who she wants.

She feels pretty, happy, calm.

She feels like Wendy Christensen, a girl.

@thearcher-winchester-version @brains4ne @roryslvrr @cinemagh0ul @kymyit @seikointelli @ilovefinaldestination @taytumelise

i cant believe brittney snow and that dude's divorce is going to make me watch the show selling O.C because apparently he humiliates her and makes it obvious he has been cheating on her

Never date a man in real estate

hello it’s sat night you know what that means I’m back to complain about work