extended organ

“Look, look, Aoko thinks this one turned out pretty cool!”

  “You drenched both me and the camera, Ahoko, I don’t see anything
   cool about that!” 

“Well, at least one of those things was waterproof, Kaito. Besides, if you’re just gonna complain about it, maybe Aoko should ask Hakuba-kun to take the next one?” 

      “I’d be happy to help, Aoko-kun.”

  “Hey, I am not letting Hakuba anywhere near my waterproof camera! It’s
   delicate, okay, what if he accidentally sets it on fire or something – ”

[hydrokinetic!Aoko (mop not shown) from flash point, aka my oops-suddenly-an-AU ‘verse, also featuring a pyrokinetic detective, plus Kaito being even more impossible than usual. (Saguru is not amused by either of these, thank you very much.)]

3

Extended essay planning in the making 👌🏼
I absolutely love Kerouac! “On The Road” was a loyal companion during my summer travels, and I can’t wait to analyse the crap out of it to get my Core IB points 😊
How was your day?
I only did math, since my exam is tomorrow! Wish me luck 💙

How Times Have Changed

Me at the beginning of IB:

 I’m gonna get 6′s or 7′s in all my classes, get an A in Extended Essay, do 15 different CAS activities, get a full night of sleep every night, and still have a social life. Those older IB classes aren’t as organized as I am! They don’t know what they’re talking about!

Me at this point: 

I don’t have enough time to die of sleep deprivation - I still need to do all of my homework, show up to the 3 or 4 activities that I’ve managed to keep, and turn *something* in for EE.

Oh how times have changed.

Rosamund Watson - or not?

I’d like to ask a question.

Apparently there is some controversy over fix-it fits being written for Season 4 including Rosie or not. Is this some big thing now?

Personally, though I will read parentlock if I like the author and think they write well, I won’t search out parentlock fics, and in fact prefer fics that don’t have parentlock. I find all the ‘baby care’ details intrusive: they take away from the main story, which is the Holmes/Watson relationship dynamic.

I understand that people don’t like the idea of baby Rosie being ‘killed off’, though frankly, I think that’s sheer sentimentality, because we kill other characters at the drop of a hat, and just because something fictional is wearing a cute pink bunny suit doesn’t make it inviolable.

Also, I do feel that Moftiss introduced the baby because Moffat, who is a father, knows damn well exactly how offspring inevitably and unalterably change the sexual dynamic of a relationship (as in, it’s extremely difficult to get any uninterrupted time together, and for the first few years you end up discussing the child’s bowels and vowels, not yourselves) and used that as another 'John and Sherlock can’t have a sexual relationship’ tactic.

So does not liking or wanting parentlock make me some sort of a monster? I have no problem with people writing it. It’s just not my cup of tea.

And, full disclosure: I am (or was until they reached school age) a co-sleeping, extended breastfeeding, baby-wearing, organic food giving mother of two. I also work all day, and often quite a long way into the night, educating and counselling children and teens. So I’m not anti-child. I just want pure unadulterated Holmes/Watson. Without nappies.

ZING art collective, first Exhibition. Catalogue text, by Joe Hedges
  • Catalogue text, by Joe Hedges.

On December 3rd, 2016 Menagerie gallery in Redwood City will host the first public endeavor of Zing, a group of contemporary asian artists living in the Bay area. The Zing collaborative includes artists working across various media including painting, sculpture, photography, and video and addressing a wide range of subjects.  For this inaugural exhibition, audiences are implicitly asked to consider the works in the context of both contemporary art and the Asian experience in the United States.  

Now it must be said: I am neither young nor asian.  My allegiance is to contemporary art.  However, in the current political climate one would be challenged to avoid viewing the show through the lens of identity.  Our challenge as viewers is to accept both the fact that contemporary art is a language that cuts across class and ethnic lines to celebrate individual perspectives, as well as the uniqueness of the Asian-American migrant experience.  In the Zing exhibition, this tension between the universality of contemporary art and the uniqueness of the Asian experience of the United States is most apparent in the figurative works of Shi Feng and Rentian Qiu.  

  • Shi Feng, “Mist“, Oil on Canvas.

Shi Feng’s work Mist is portrait of a nude, seemingly asian woman crouched on the floor, buttocks to the viewer, twisting her torso and revealing her face with hands and feet curled into some unseen ground.  Formally, every aspect of the painting is strong, with an intimate knowledge of human anatomy and keen observational skills on display.  But while the title Mist draws our attention to the limited range of values and beautifully-handled atmosphere, try as they might, contemporary figurative painters have not yet transcended the double-edged project of objectifying their subjects.  Here we are reminded that an Asian-American experience is at once conflated with ideas about race, and that ideas about race deal necessarily with the body.  For what is a body if not the place where our differences are most superficially on display?  In viewing Shi Feng’s paintings that often feature asian subjects, the viewer reconciles thoughts about race, flesh gender, while necessarily and simultaneously stripping the body of all labels but human.

Shi Feng’s second painting in the exhibition provides a strong conceptual counterbalance.  In Bath, a man stands in tall grass wearing nothing but an oversized sweater.  He lifts the sweater in order to gaze downward at his own genitalia as a tiger—a familiar symbol of Asia—looms toward him in the background.  Here Feng again asks the viewer to consider ideas about flesh and identity, leaving it to the viewer to consider the symbolism of the predatory beast.

  • Shi Feng, “Bath”, Oil on Canvas.

In another dark composition about identity, Ethan Zhao’s arrestingly slick film Samsara utilizes VFX-compositing to place disparate imagery into the same surreal black and white world.  An electronic Radiohead-esque soundscape helps to set a brooding mood as a single masked figure slow-motion dances around chiaroscuro asteroids and foggy trees.  As the character’s mask multiplies and floats around him, the mask’s function of obscuring one’s true face is at once on display and subverted.  In a video piece by Yanling He, again the viewer is invited into another world where identity is obscured: figures frozen in water droplets, soundscape blending the digital and organic, extending the moments between drips from a leaky facet.  

  • Ethan Zhao, “Samsara”, Film.
  • Yanling He, “Refraction”, Film.

Continuing with the theme of identity and the body, artist Rentian Qui’s four figurative watercolors feature women in intentionally provocative, compromising or disturbing poses.  The subject of Tease is a woman in her underwear lying on a bed or couch, legs crossed in the air and touching the underside of her thigh.  Dark pubic hair escapes from her red underwear.  This painting evokes the work of the famous Viennese artist of the 20th early century, Egon Schiele.  Like Schiele’s works, Qui’s figures have a somewhat geometric and expressive quality while the background remains relatively stark.  Here we would be remiss not to acknowledge the impact of asian prints on the work of Schiele and his contemporaries: the use of negative space, a limited pallet, the twisting strangeness of the bodies.  Formally, Qui’s works operate in a zone that can be seen as bridging cultural divides of east and west.  While all Qui’s works implicate the “male gaze” of the viewer (and artist), Qui manages to do so sensitively with the inclusion of additional compositions that take on ideas about the body in more nuanced and critical ways.

An international traveler might recognize that the subject of another work by Qui, Peeing, is a woman crouched on a western-style toilet.  Her backside to the viewer, face turned away, the scene contains at once the mundanity of a genre painting and the force of a social commentary.  Art history buffs will recall that Marcel Duchamp famously signed a urinal with the words “R. MUTT”, and titled it Fountain, as a commentary, exclamation point or full stop on what can and cannot be art.  As it turns out, it is not only ideas about contemporary art that are socially constructed: ideas about a seemingly simple act of urination are relativistic as well, and for this Asian-American artist, the picture plane remains a suitable battle ground within which to assert quotidian contrasts.  For many individuals residing in or immigrating from asian countries, sitting on a toilet chair—rather than crouching over a floor toilet—is rightfully considered unsanitary and unhealthy.  In viewing Peeing, the viewer may extrapolate an endless list of daily challenges immigrants encounter, as an object as seemingly familiar as a toilet becomes a container for struggle and difference.

  • Rentian Qiu, “Tease”, Mix-Media.
  • Rentian Qiu, “Peeing”, Mix-Media.

American and European art history textbook favorites like Schiele and Duchamp have had the luxury of being simply called artists—not having additional suffixes forced upon them.  By contrast, minorities and women have faced a particular challenge when attempting to enter the world of contemporary art: they have often found themselves unable to avoid the labels of “black artist”, “asian artist”, “female artist” etc.  Unfortunately, these labels have historically been read like caveats, putting artists in the position of asserting their seriousness in the best way they know how—by directly addressing their heritage or gender or some other aspect of their identity in their art.  For minorities today, a refusal to explicitly take on the subject of identity in one’s work has itself become a form of postmodern subversion.

Working in a non-representational mode are Dongze Huo, Shi Dong, and Hung Ying Lee.  These three pieces exist in the tradition of western modernism but each contain traces of asian aesthetics.  For the first of these three artists, Dongze Huo, Escape contains muted negative space that subtly echoes asian landscape painting.  At the same time the work also recalls the color-blocks of Hans Hoffman and other American Abstract Expressionists.  Here one finds a certain quietude in contrast with vibrancy, that could be read as the contemplative history of Asian aesthetics meeting the so called “pure abstraction” of painters in 1950’s New York City.  But while abstraction has appeared in essentially every culture known to human beings, it is often mistakenly presented as an invention of Picasso, who it is well known was largely inspired by African masks.  Here Dongze Huo covertly participates in the project of returning abstraction to its rightful conception: a language that reduces color and form to spiritual elements that speak about the universal human condition.  

  • Dongze Huo, “Escape“, Silk-Screen on BFK Paper.

Secondly, Shi Dong’s abstract work Soul Comb is a blue color field upon which square dots are presented in a grid.  The grid is a modernist tool that’s been employed in near infinite iterations, from Piet Mondrian and continuing up through Damien Hirst’s contemporary multi-colored spot painting installations.  But in the hands of Shi Dong one might also consider the history of the grid in an asian context.  Unlike phonetic languages, the Chinese language can exist in a neatly ordered grid, legible from left to right or top to bottom.  In this reading Dong’s multicolored squares suggest a more semantic meaning.  Is the language of color ideographic?

  • Shi Dong, “Soul Comb ®”, Oil on Wood Panel.

The third artists working in a nonrepresentational mode is Hung Ying Lee.  Lee’s modestly-sized abstract paintings I Can’t Avoid the Wet Trend and The Falls present varied approaches to paint application, from thin drips to highly impasto strokes that are almost sculptural.  Although Lee’s title betrays some doubts about the legitimacy of this approach, she would do well to remember that nearly hundred years has elapsed since Van Gogh first famously began to think about paint strokes in relationship to the patterning and texture of weavers.  Today, contemporary painters like Allison Schulnik and Conor Harrington continue to push the unique possibilities of paint to cling and drip (respectively), confirming again and again that an interest in surface is more than a trend.  Lee’s complimentary color palettes and confident mark-making recall paintings of peach or cherry blossoms against a blue sky.  

  • Hung Ying Lee, “The Falls”, Oil Painting on Canvas.

Although more representational, Jihoon Choi’s 3D pixelated life-sized sculptures of animals also owe a debt to the history of abstraction—specifically cubism.  These forms have a strangeness that evoke both Minecraft and Super Mario Bros., confronting our expectations about nature and the virtual.  Ideas about simulacra are again on display in Max Luo’s three square ceramic pieces.  These works function largely like paintings, presenting a figure peeking through a crack.  First, the figure exists in the 2D space of the picture plane.  By the third panel, the figure has receded to exist within the 3D space behind the picture plane, drawing the viewers focus to ideas about paintings as virtual containers.  Luo essentially plays with the oldest and most implicit question in the arts: what is reality?  In answering this question, we turn to photography.  

  • Jihoon Choi, “White Deer“, Steel - Body, Real Antler, Wheels, Paint.
  • Max Luo, “Shh…”, Wood, plaster, Metal, Ceramic.

Xuebing Du’s photographic prints are spectacularly detailed liquid-scapes that disrupt gravity and space.  Water here is presented as a mysterious and uncontrollable force, at once calming and terrifying.  The prints of Ying Jung also confuse our expectations of space.  Ying Jung’s works make use of traditional photographic techniques to create contemporary multiple exposures of disappearing figures in undergrowth.  The black and white denseness of the images have the all-over-ness of a Jackson Pollock surface, but the addition of the figure reminds the viewer of the unique ability of photography to embrace decisive, overlapping moments in time.  

  • Xuebing Du, “Static Flow”, Photograph Print.
  • Ying Jung Lucky Lu, “I Was There Before“, Silver Gelatin Print.

A third artists using the tools of photography is Shen Linghao.  Linghao’s media installation makes use of light-sensitive photographs of a Jiangnan Shipyard and the former residence of Chiang Ching-kuo, a former president of the Republic of China and who is remembered in part for relaxing authoritarianism and prohibitions of free speech in Taiwan.  The moody, monochromatic photographs are printed on light-sensitive paper but displayed in a dark box.  Viewers are invited to shine a flashlight on the images and consider the cinematic afterglow.  Recalling the repurposing of the shipyard and the destruction of Ching-kuo’s villa, Shen Linghao’s artist statement reflects on change, seeing his images as “a disoriented theatre, in which various self-conflicted dramas are presented”.  However, a flashlight in the hands of an American viewer may also suggest the fraught history of perception of Taiwan and Taiwanese by outsiders: acknowledgement, followed by denial and willful obfuscation.

  • Shen Linghao, “ The Scenery in Heart-Theater of History”, Composite Media Installation.

Finally, one encounters three artists making use of saturated color.  Hsien Chun’s screen-prints present decorated figures that mash-up comic book chic with old-world spirituality emerging from dystopian landscapes.  Alison Ye’s refreshingly whimsical works I Love Candy and First Date are ceramic wall-mounted figures.  The figures are both cartoonish and freaky, utilizing color and pattern to first disarm the viewer, then stylized monster features like horns and a cyclops eye to surprise.  Yuri Hyun’s works on paper use ink pen, colored pencil and marker to create fantastically detailed worlds that evoke ancient Cambodian architecture and 80’s cartoon funhouses for an aesthetic that is unmistakably contemporary.  

  • Hsien Chun Tsai, “Taiwan”, Screen Print.
  • Alison Ye, “I love candy“, Ceramic, Underglaze, Steel, Epoxy.
  • Yuri Hyun, “Spring”, Mix-Media.

When I spoke to Ma Shang, one of the founders of the Zing collaborative, about the exhibition he first told me there was no theme.  After a pause, he then stated “the theme is we exist”.  As white people like myself continue to fight our way down the semantic rabbit holes of terms like “identity politics” and “political correctness” this exhibition serves as a reminder that defining and redefining racial categories, Americanness, and contemporary art norms remains a privilege for a few.  In the last few decades, identity has found ubiquitous expression in contemporary art through individual works and exhibitions not because artists and institutions wish to uphold boundaries, but because in order to break them down we first need more equal representation.  The United States has a complicated and violent history with regard to minority groups, migrants and immigrants that continues today.  We are a country of immigrants that quickly invented concepts like “white” and even the peculiar definition of “asian” in order to maintain power for some groups and withhold it from others.  Of course, words alone are not enough: laws like the Chinese Exclusion Act forbid ethnic Chinese from entering the United States.  The law was not repealed for 61 years—in 1943, even as Asians became the “model minority” in the white imagination.  San Fransisco was always at the forefront of these issues, and Zing today is perfectly positioned to continue these conversations in a public way even if they are doing so covertly or implicitly.  

We must acknowledge that no matter how its turned, the Rubik’s cube of “artist” in the popular imagination contains these tinges of whiteness and maleness.  This puzzle is solved only by taking things apart and writing new histories.  For Asian Americans and groups like Zing, flipping this narrative is a vital task.  The challenges of immigrating to a new country remain prohibitive to creating art: acquiring language skills, navigating cultural norms, finding creative ways to extend continually expiring visas.  These challenges are so far removed from the experience of most Americans that indeed, the theme “we exist” is itself palpable and most powerful.  Artists in the inaugural exhibition of Zing engage the same themes that all artists engage: abstraction, the body, loss, time, etc. while using the same tools and techniques, too.  Since romanticism, a large driver of artistic work and identity is the idea of alienation: that feeling that one does not quite belong.  Here one relates in at least a tenuous way to the experience of immigration.  For what artist, or indeed what human being, has not felt a pang of dislocation or separation?  It is in compassionately recalling these emotions that one is able to recognize what it means to be human, and what it is to create and enjoy art.  

In forming a collaborative around a minority identity these artists celebrate of the uniqueness of an asian perspective as it operates in the United States, and at once reject the notion that they are somehow wholly apart from American citizen artists and/or non-asian artists.  In viewing the inaugural Zing exhibition, asians and non-asians alike must remind ourselves to do the same.  This is the challenge and force of Zing: is it possible to stage exhibitions that assert the identity of minority groups in a way that also celebrates individuality?  If Zing’s inaugural exhibition is any indication, the answer is yes, in San Fransisco and the world.  

  • Shang Ma, Founder and Curator of ZING.
7

Expressions

Hsiao-Ron Cheng is a Taiwanese illustrator best known for her ethereal, surrealistic works of pastel-colored art that often depict floral motifs.

I often imagine our emotions as plants: they extend like any organic object; they grow and wither. Covering the face with flowers is a way to express the emotion, we can feel it even if we can’t see…

-

Interview with Hsiao-Ron Cheng (translated)

Keep reading

Ok, so hear me out. Deadpool has the cannon trait not just to be able to heal wounds, but also regrow whole limbs and segments of his body. So, its not much of a stretch to say that could extend to organs right? So if you think about it, you could just remove a heart, bone marrow, kidneys, or any feasible organ and he should be able to just bounce back right? Deadpool has the potential to be an unlimited organ donor that just restocks. Immortal blade-swinging Wade Wilson who’s a habitual organ donor on the side is important to me. 

remarkably-average  asked:

I met this amazing new friend this summer very deep into spirituality. She told me about vibrations, spirits, energies, past lives, a little bit. We didn't have enough time for me to get a real idea. Are these the kind of things you believe in?

I’m not sure :). I think it’s hard to describe these kinds of things in words. I try to keep an open mind and heart about my belief systems. I believe people and ecosystems are intimately connected, and I’ve been studying the science of that in terms of cell communication, nerve conduction, hormones and pheromones and so forth, which move across species and affect everyone’s behavior. I also believe there are more “dimensions” to reality than most people talk about, and that we can tune our bodies through practices such as meditation or working with entheogenic plant medicines, to perceive higher vibrational realities, and to directly perceive inside our bodies down to our cells and DNA. I’ve spoken with Indigenous people who are never on the internet, who know things that scientists know from using microscopes or telescopes.

Many old traditions across the world access ways of knowing that are along the lines of what your friend told you about, and they have unique practices built around communicating with ancestors and spirits from various places. Some people have written books about how in western contemporary culture, science fiction and aliens are how we talk about aspects of creation such as spirits or unfamiliar vibrations. 

I think often when hippy people say “energies” and “vibrations”, they just don’t have a more specific vocabulary to explain what they mean. In my work with ayahuasca and mushrooms I’ve been shown things about electrical fields in the body. In ayahuasca traditions many people weave these tapestries that look like circuits, and they say that it is a “soul song” or a pattern that is both a language and a medicine. I’ve also experienced singing (or being sung!) and feeling what the wave patterns I was making were doing to the person I was singing at to move things in their body for healing. I think of it more like touch, but that we have our physical bodies as we’re taught to parse out with language as kids, which are really much more extended and interconnected living organisms that have electrico-magnetic fields that can extend far beyond our skin. There’s contemporary research about psychic communication, and about “quantum entanglement” and photons that suggests living things can communicate nonlocally as well. From what I can tell that get into the physics of light, which I’ve been meaning to research.

Personally I try to stay away from the hippy ways of describing these kinds of experiences, and whenever I get a chance to learn from an Indigenous person who has been brought up within a culture where their ancestral traditions for working with the earth, animals, and other kinds of spirits are intact, I do. At this point there is a large marketing industry around “new age spirituality”, where there is a lot of misinformation and authors referencing each other in a non-rigorous way. A lot gets lost in translation when you look at, say, Sanksrit or Tibetan language traditions that approach spirituality, and try to translate those into English and into a western mindset, and especially into a culture that commodifies wisdom. If you’re in a place where you can do this legally and/or safely, working with entheogenic medicines, or even just marijuana, is likely to show you directly the kinds of energy and vibration realities you’re curious about, and if you can find your way to a good meditation teacher they can help guide you past some of the places people get stuck when they start exploring.

I’ve also found interesting insight in talking with a nondual Hindu person, who described to me the different branches of Buddhism and Hinduism - I can’t quite language that insight yet though. I think playing music (especially acoustic music) is a way to experience what your friend described, as well, and then you don’t have to deal with all the belief system mumbo jumbo conceptual stuff people use to describe our interconnectivity. Many songs are passed down for thousands of years, you might receive a song or a painting seemingly from the future, and you’ll feel the people in the room with you moving your body as you touch them with sound.

I don’t understand the past lives things people have told me, but when I’ve done trance work (where you listen to fast drumming for a long time and let yourself slip into a dream-like state) I always get an “answer” that this is the first time I’ve been incarnate.

In general, white folks have been disconnected from their nature based traditions and ways of working with the plants and their healing chemicals and some would say souls. Plants teach us a lot about energy and vibration and balance and harmony, or they live with us in symbiosis, likewise animals, and water. I’m an animist in that sense, albeit an athiest one (i.e. I don’t believe in god or theising “spirits” and so forth, but that these things simply exist and are alive and responsive). I read recently, I think on the Bioneers Facebook feed, that all Indigenous wisdom about the environment is about paying very close attention. It was a quote by Kat Harrison who stewards a lovely enthobotanical garden on Hawaii which educates about and protects medicinal plants. I guess I would encourage you to pay close attention, and know that “energy” “spirit” and “vibration” are often used to describe a whole teeming vast beautiful world of life that isn’t generally part of contemporary English society and education. 

I guess the last thing I’ll say is that I don’t particularly believe in time, or I don’t locate myself in time the way most people do. This is partly because I feel a direct, intimate, tactile connection with the universe (whatever that is, I don’t pretend to think I could conceive of it), and I locate my consciousness there, in motion and loving connection.

Thanks for asking!

Our Pink Lion

So we know that there are 7 regular lions, and eventually one magical pink lion. We also know that Rose, with her phytokinetic abilities, was able to create moss and other flora to act as her guardians. Given that she has the ability to interact with organic life on that level, what if that extends somewhat to organisms beyond plants? What if she found a way to use a lock of a lion’s mane to create her own life form to be used for specific purposes. Because of the magic involved, the lion would turn pink.

Alternatively what if here was a baby lion who was born weak and was not going to live for very long in the desert environment. Rose would have done everything in her power to protect its life and used her tears to heal it. Given that it was more than a flesh wound, it would take more than one healing session, or a very large amount of tears. Perhaps the lion cub would have been stained pink. Because of the large amount of magic he was exposed to, the lion would possibly gain some magical abilities himself.

Perhaps I should extend my organic body butter and sugar scrub line into Dragon Age inspired scents.

Oh! I could make a Solas scent! I mean, who wouldn’t want to smell like fallen leaves, old parchment, campfire smoke, worn leather, and regrets?

Or it could be the scent of frilly cakes. Yeah, that would probably be better. Frilly cakes and despair.
Email Script

A few days ago, we got a message about what can be done to get other organizations to offer specific support to us on their websites and crisis centers. I’ve been working on a script for people to use in emails asking for help, and here’s what I’ve got so far. Send feedback, especially with other resources to link to.

Hello, [name of organization/head of organization]

I am writing today to respectfully ask that your organization extend its help and crisis lines to asexual and aromantic individuals. As one of the leading LGBT+ groups in the country, it would be immensely helpful for those of us within the community to receive the same level of support as our peers. While I am not implying your organization would ever wish harm upon us, it is a sad reality that most organizations within the community are unprepared to handle the specific issues facing asexual and aromantic people and may not be able to give us the help we need at this point in time.

With this in mind, I strongly urge you to consider training your employees to help asexual and aromantic individuals in need. There are several helpful websites you can look to for information, such as whatisasexuality.com and asexualoutreach.org. [Add any from your country that you know of that you want to include.] I would also urge that you, while not outright avoid, not solely use asexuality.org as many people do and learn from a variety of sources to hear as many voices as possible.

Thank you for taking the time to read this message. I hope that, in the future, [organization name] will be able to extend their full support to the asexual and aromantic community, especially to those of us who are most in need.

Best regards,

[Name]

Friendly Reminder for the Voltron Fandom

If, IF the SDCC Voltron trailer’s opening foreshadowing comes to fruition…

Alteans are able to use their life force to regenerate an ORGANIC and LIVING planet they take crystals from. And Allura, sweet space princess, took that ability farther and was able to COMPLETELY HEAL THE BALMERA. We don’t yet know if this power extends to other organisms, but we haven’t been told it doesn’t, either.

I mean, I’m not saying there’ll be a “Healing Tear” Rapunzel moment in S2 between Shiro and Allura, but wouldn’t that be the best way they could get together AND Shiro lives?? There’s still hope, don’t forget that, my little lions!

I still want to know how people can take grammatical issue with singular they. It has a long history of use (good enough for Shakespeare good enough for you), and don’t people use it a lot anyway? I have been using it forever, in situations where I don’t know the person’s gender but they won’t be spoken of long enough to bother finding out (reading things off of the internet where all I have is a screen name, I don’t actually know the person, and I’ll probably never mention them again), when referring to individual’s actions/things in a mix gender group (”Could everyone open their books”), or in situations where I don’t want to divulge someone’s gender for privacy reasons (”I have this friend and they…”) 

It’s really organic to extend those uses to “This is Sam, they’re new here.”