like the size of my torso

Went and saw Beauty and the Beast, and I just had to share my experience because it was so pure?

So, like, I get into the theater, find myself a nice spot smack dab midscreen, which is WAY EASIER without thirty people traipsing in behind you in a group, lemme tell you, and I’m just sitting there, by my lonesome, scrolling tumblr and watching whatever weird stuff they’ve got on screen, and a family comes to sit in my row, which was the only empty one not right in front of the screen. Sat down what I thought was a seat away from me until I saw a little girl in an adorable ass red dress climbing over mom and dad to sit next to me. 

Totally fine. I was just off of center and they got to sit right in the middle of the screen, and when she finally gets settled this little girl looks up at me, with a soda half her size in one hand, and somehow both popcorn and candy in her tiny little lap, and she stage whispers to her mom:

“She’s by herself!”

Mom looks embarrassed, but I smile and wave off the apology. 

I go back to my phone, only to realize someone is tugging at my sleeve. Little girl looks up at me, all wide eyes and curiosity, and holds out a napkin filled with popcorn and chocolate. Like, I remember being a kid, and I remember how important candy and popcorn at the theater are, and I think she thought she was saving my life by offering this sustenance.

I almost fucking cried guys, kids are the best.

So I take it and thank her and let her talk my ear off for a few minutes until she needs a drink because she has been talking SO MUCH her mouth is dry. This kid is going places, guys, I’m telling you right now, because she picked up that cup the size of her torso like a champ and angled the straw just right and continued to try to talk to me around her gulps.

While this is happening, on the other side of me another mom and daughter sat down, and, turns out, the girls know each other. I’m guessing, based on the gumption of Red Dress, that they probably met in the lobby before they went into the theater. 

Girl number 2, I’ll call her Princess Dress, because it was a fantastic dress and when I told her so she proceeded to point to every princess along the neck and name them and give me their Stats, proceeds to have a conversation across me with Red Dress.

Both sets of parents were looking like they wanted to bury their heads in their hands, but I was having a blast.

Anyway, eventually lights go down, we get into the movie, and for the most part Red and Princess were content, although every so often Red made sure to pass me a handful of sticky half-melted chocolate. 

Watching a live action version of a movie that I watched for the first time when I was their age was a fuckin’ trip, man. Like. I got super emotional over things I didn’t expect to, and during the wolf scenes I was actually mildly distressed, because Princess was gripping the hand rest so hard on my right I thought she was gonna break it. Any scene I laughed or snorted at got a peal of laughter from my two new best friends, so hopefully no one has to go home and explain why I nearly snorted out my drink during “Be Our Guest” when they went for a visual gag for “After all miss, this is France!”.

During the ballroom scene, Red turned to her mom and whispered “The Beast is handsome!” and it took so much for me not to lean over and whisper back “Girl same.”

But my favorite, MY VERY FAVORITE part of this whole experience was when Gaston shot the Beast - FOR THE THIRD TIME HOLY HELL I KNEW IT WAS DARK BUT GODDAMN THIS IS A KIDS MOVIE ISN’T IT - Red patted my arm because yeah, okay, I was maybe crying a little, look, I know what happens but the movie made me feel things okay. Anyway, she like, pushes herself up in her seat and leans in close and she goes “It’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

The point is, children are so pure, and everyone should always watch movies with strangers.

dmcanonymous  asked:

So that's how to reference with digital art. Cool. Thanks for sharing it.

It is! I always make sure to try and break the pose into shapes and work from there. I also like to use arrows to show the flow of the pose!!! I then open it next to my picture and draw the shapes scaled up in size as I draw on a 4000px x 4000px canvas usually. You can also use posemaniacs.com for referencing, if you scroll down the right side and click “model” it has hands, a torso, and a head for practicing with.

Here’s 2 examples!!!

Making someone bigger than ref’d person:


Making someone smaller than ref’d person:

HOPE THIS HELPS EVEN MORE SO!

zodiac signs as shit dave strider says

Aries: my gaping furnace is hungry for coal so get goddamn shoveling 

Taurus: you just rigged the thing with an oedipal harness and rode its torso like a log flume ride down a magical rainbow 

Gemini: sir im afraid the comet is the size of your moms dick

Cancer: so lets all just sit back a while and shoot the shit and i do mean empty our clips into the shit, like really pump that turd full of lead

Leo: dudes be worshipping me left and right i cant hardly walk down the street without stepping over torsos of the prostrate 

Virgo: btw my name is Akwete Purrmusk hardest buttock in the jungle

Libra: this book is now like our fight fueled ouija board of cock

Scorpio: hey were gonna hunt frogs til you shoot me through the jack
then i die and youve got to make out with me

Sagittarius: im sure you know what kind of crooked ass baloneyfuck powers she got cant let her turn those against us

Capricorn: no fuck you im not caressing your dream hologram 

Aquarius: what is with girls and their universally constant tendency to rip out plumbing fixtures

Pisces: you dont seem to harbor any sympathy for the fact that ive burrowed fuck deep into lively fluffy muppet buttock

Gravitas

It is no secret that I have proportions on the heavier side of the norm, and certainly a lot heavier than the ready-to-wear world would deem worthy of accomodating. I stand a not particularly tall 181cm, my weight fluctuates between 100 to 105 kilograms, and I am usually about a 46" chest on a 39" waist. I tend to be a tailors nightmare, as I have a broad chest and thick arms, but still with a large drop. Only one tailor I know has ever said that my proportions are good for tailoring - Yuhei Yamamoto of Caid Tailors. I suspect my heavy build conjures images of a 50’s New Yorker for him - well fed on a diet of burgers and pie, and as American as a Japanese Ivy League fanatic could imagine.

What I have learnt, however, is that for all the things the heavy set man cannot wear, from ankle choking jeans that afflict the early 20’s crowd lately to bermudas and tee shirts, there are some things that almost demand the extra weight to properly effect.

There are some garments that I think benefit from a larger frame to carry them, chief amongst them being the traditional 3 piece suit. With the full leg  and high waist of the trouser, the shorter and trim girdle of a waistcoat, and the soft roll of a draped chest coat. Properly tailored, and that is tantamount to the bigger gent, a three piece in a dark formal cloth can amplify the gravitas a bigger man will often possess.

The secret here, although it is no secret to anyone that has studied the likes of Jackie Gleason or James Robertson Justice later in their careers, is that drape and depth are an imperative. And while it is the coat that most men remark upon, and where the significant attention the novice bespoke client lies, a well cut trouser is to a bigger man of the greatest significance. A few tips I have found that have aided me in all my significant girth are as follows;

Depth of rise - The tendency for skimpy, hip riding trousers is an abomination that any man hoping to be viewed as such and not the opposite sex should avoid. This is never more true than in a man built properly through the hips and seat.

As the hips and seat fill out, they also tend to draw upwards. The slim man has hips that begin at the shelf of the hipbone, while the bigger man will find it extending upwards towards the natural waist. The hips grow in proportion and the waist shortens.

Those of us that have put any real thought and study into dressing well are aware that a man cannot look good without looking elegant, and he cannot be elegant unless he is comfortable. Hitching at a low slung trouser and fearing the exposure of a creased shirt tail every time you sit severely inhibits the chances of looking elegant.

The depth of rise should be sufficient that you can sit and stand without the trouser needing to be adjusted each time. If your shirt tails are billowing from the back of your waistband after sitting, you can afford a higher back rise.

Personally I have found that a fishtail trouser worn beneath a waistcoat is an elegant, if slightly archaic option. When I am in three pieces, however, the waistcoat stays on, so the exposure of my braces and fishtail back is unlikely.

Braces - On that point, the trouser is built to hang from the shoulder. I know the proportions of my waist, much like my thigh, tends to shift between sitting and standing, so a slightly looser waist - 2/3 of an inch while standing is usually a safe allowance - and braces to keep the trousers at the correct position makes for a far more comfortable experience.

The brace over belt argument is also supported by the back rise issue - a longer back rise needs to be anchored higher than a belt could usually allow. Hung from the shoulder, however, the trouser falls clean from waistband through the seat and thigh, and there is no unsightly roping to break the vertical line of the leg.

Stride - Seemingly a factor misunderstood by most ready to wear manufacturers is the principle of stride - the difference in volume of the thigh between standing straight to leg crooked. What tends to happen here is twofold - the distribution of weight in the leg shifts, and the back rise through to the knee lengthens as the leg bends. This causes the thigh to occupy all of the extra rise height we have offered in the back of the trouser, and shift forward and down in the front of the trouser leg. Here, without the extra allowance in volume at the thigh, the trouser grips the fronts of the legs, strains the back rise, and leaves a trouser with sharp creases splaying out from the inside leg.

Taper in a trouser is important, especially for a big man - we don’t want to look like we are in oxford bags - but taper it is. There must be enough room in the upper leg to justify the gradual narrowing to the cuff.

Pleats - Hand in hand with the above, and an unpopular choice for nearly all men of my generation, are pleated trousers. The perception of 80’s era chinos with pintuck like pleats cascading from a low riding waistband has poisoned the minds of many from common sense.

Pleats are for medium to high waisted trousers, not low. Pleats should have enough volume, and the waistband not be so tight, that the pleats can accordion open when needed, and fall closed again when standing straight.

The other need for pleats for us bigger men is the visual break it gives the expanse of lap that a full hip creates. Broken evenly with one or two pleats, the trouser fronts are seemingly quartered and diminished. The clean, flat front on a rounder lower torso and hip begins looking like a globe of the earth in its unbroken fullness.

Taper - The taper in the leg depends on two main measurements - that of the hip and of the shoe. None of us want to look like overgrown Oompa-Loompas, shortened to a pear shape with tiny feet beneath a massive waist. At least I hope none of my audience here wants that. Nor do we want to look like Daffy Duck with rail thin ankles and paddles of feet beneath, so the last of our shoe, its size, and how we taper the trouser is important.

I have big feet myself - about a 44 European, so I favour shorter, rounder toed shoes with narrow waists and slightly taller heels and thicker soles. It makes for a shoe that isn’t overly long on my already big feet, but has enough weight at the sole to carry my build, while the narrow waist keeps it looking elegant rather than clumsy.

Conversely, someone with a small foot relative to their height might choose a longer, chiseled last that helps extend the length of foot below the trouser cuff. Or a heavy, gunboat style that will overall add visual weight to the foot.

The taper of the trouser needs to follow the same rules - we neither want to look unbalanced by an extreme taper, nor missing our feet by trousers that flap around too full and long. A good rule of thumb for the bigger gent is that the trouser should fall to the shoe with the gentlest of breaks in the front, and cover the top two or three eyelets of the shoe. A cuff of some depth will help keep the trouser stationed on the foot, and provide the visual weight to balance our, ahem, generous waists.

Much can be said about pattern and colour, their visual weights and how they affect the appearance of a bigger man, but for every rule there is someone whose style and panache is able to squash said rules entirely. I try to remind myself that I am accentuating the vertical as much as possible, especially in the lower body, and setting elegance as the marker of success.

There are some other points that Us bigger folk can carry that a more diminutive build cannot - lapels that look generous on a bigger man can come across as overwhelming on a smaller man. The classical full overlap of a double breasted suit that can look straight jacket like on a small man is entirely appropriate over a fuller girth. And the softer, longer extension of shoulder that is loved by the Northern tailors often balances a larger waist and creates the appearance of a drop from chest to waist, while the smaller man can end up looking like a scarecrow in it.

The soft drape of chest that was the hallmark of the Scholte cut gives a louche elegance to the bigger man, and adds the feel of generosity and ease that elegance demands.

And that brings us back to the original tenet of this piece - Gravitas. Picture Babe Ruth in his bigger years wearing a vested suit with all the softness and comfort as he did his baseball uniform. And in it he commanded respect by his very physicality. He had a gravitas to take something severe and humble it.

But the best example of a bigger man that could put to shame any more regularly proportioned clotheshorse is Jackie Gleason. His portrayal as Minnesota Fats in the 1961 classic “The Hustler”, he epitomizes elegance and gravitas, next to a fidgeting, sweaty and disheveled Paul Newman.

Gleason, a renowned clotheshorse in his personal life, spends the film in a three piece suit with a carnation in his buttonhole. With every shot he takes, his 270 pound figure looks as graceful as sometimes only a big man can be.

I’m going to attempt to recap Duchovny in Boston day (February 22, 2017.) Warning: this could get long and sappy because it’s 3 AM and I’m just brain dumping. Under a cut…

Keep reading

@gomustanggirl16

I don’t know that he canonically IS, it’s just a headcanon of mine that I’ve backed up with some canon stuff and wishful thinking.  

Like, we know that he stole Natasha’s jacket for Wanda (deleted scene, I believe), and he’s just pulling stuff out of lockers to wear…shoes and whatnot.  And he changes his shirt…

Originally posted by revanchists

AND Steve was wearing a waffle print workout shirt earlier in the movie (in a different color, but it’s possible he has it in multiple colors, :P hence the wishful thinking).  

PLUS, they’re close to the same size, soooooo….  (Aaron is 5′11′’ and Chris is 6′0′’…and they both have delightfully dorito shaped torsos…probably not the same size, but the shirt is stretchy, give me a break)

It’s my headcanon that Pietro steals Steve’s shirt.  And I may or may not have convinced other people to adopt it as well.  :P

15,000 Followers: A New Milestone

Yesterday I logged my 15,000th follower – someone named ‘D. Trump’, who said ‘you’re an “8″ in my book’.   All kidding aside, I never thought I’d have this many.  I thought I’d recognize this milestone by dipping waaaaay back into my archives for some very early pictures I had posted on an earlier tumblr site, back in 2013.  I chose a few pics that represent different personal milestones for me.  The pictures are small in resolution, and often poorer quality.  But they mark my path, and I feel like there’s some personal growth.  Sorry if I bore you with these – it’ll be over soon.

This is a very old picture, but one I never posted before.  I’m including it because while I liked the pose and dress, I ‘cheated’.  The dress was super small - I forget the size, but probably a ‘4′.  I couldn’t zip up the back all the way.  So I zipped it as far as I could, and then scrunched my arms and shoulders together to hold it in place.  The shot worked O.K., proving that you can get away with things like this if you pose correctly.  

Posing is so important – trying different angles, ways you position your limbs and torso, etc. 

anonymous asked:

Is there a real life source for the whole "Sid has all his pants custom made" thing that is in all of the fic or is that just a generally agreed upon assumption because of his butt's size? This feels like a weird question to ask but it's been bugging me for weeks.

That’s actually real!

Here’s a reference to it:

…one of Sidney Crosby’s nicknames in the Pittsburgh Penguins locker room is “Creature”, which Duthie writes is a nod to Crosby’s “freakish lower body.”

“It is huge,” Duthie writes. “Gigantic. Hugantic. His caboose would make J-Lo jealous. His thighs are bigger than my torso. All his pants have to be custom made. | Article

There’s also this video from when he was 18 where he talks about how he has a place back in Cole Harbour where he goes if he wants a nice pair of jeans.

You’re Beautiful [3]

Authour’s Note: Yo! So remember when the reader like, had the problem with the bullies in the college for the class? Guess what!? Stay tuned and find out who they are! And beware, there is insults to be said. Here comes your enemies! (someonekillmethiswasnotmeantogothisfarbutmotivation) Other than that, do give feedback, ask box is always open for requests and I am willing to answer them!

“No matter who you are, no matter what you do, I believe that being there for the people you love… it’s one of the most blissful feelings you could ever have. The feeling of being a good person, the feeling of… being wanted for a reason. I believe… I found that from meeting you.”

Pairing: Hoseok (J-Hope) X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Warning: Mentions of Depression, Suicide, Body Image Issues, Smut, and lots of Fluff that could make you squeal

Word Count: 3.3K

Previous: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Originally posted by sunshinejhp

“W-Wait… what?” I said in disbelief. Shocked, I had to think about this for a bit. Did Hoseok offer to teach me how to dance? That’s… honestly a dream come true! Ever since I was just in my weeb phase with these guys, I always thought it would be an honor to be taught under the wing of Hoseok and learn to dance like him and the rest! God, dancing was something I have been interested in as a kid, and I remember at one point in my Anime weeb phases, there were times I danced to Vocaloid, but let’s not go that far. I had to have been eleven at the time. Haha, time sure flies. It’s amazing I managed to come out like this.

“Well? What do you say? I can teach you how to dance, and in return, we go on more coffee dates like this?” He asked, his lips forming the sweetest of smiles that are just too darn cute to deny. Come on, I just met the guy yesterday and he is already asking to teach me how to dance and wants more coffee dates? Wait, was this a date? No, I specifically said friends first. Come on (Y/N), stop assuming so much!

“Well, the offer is really nice, but I don’t um.. Really think it will be good. Not saying you aren’t good! I swear, I just um… Body wise, I am not fit for it. You know? I feel like… a whale in a crowd of dolphins, per se.” I said. I looked to Hoseok and his expression was so unreadable, until his jaw dropped like he heard something so unbelievable.

“Are you kidding me? Your body is beautiful! Not saying that I look at it a lot, but you’re beautiful! What makes you think your body is that terrible?” He asked, utter disbelief in his eyes, showing he was shocked to hear someone degrade their body like that.

“I… well, it’s a long story and I don’t really… find comfort in talking about it.” I said, rubbing my arms a bit and I sigh. It was an honest truth. When I was young, I had carried baby fat with me, making me the chubbiest child my mother ever had, but I was cute back then, this is now. The times I wished I could go back then and feel proud of myself in my skin and not have to worry about how I looked to please people. The reason I was so insecure of my body, well, it wouldn’t be so bad to relive that memory.

I remember walking through the halls of my school, being checked out during middle school to be excused to go home. My mother, she was wearing a stern face as we walked past a woman, her body obese and extremely overweight. Her cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s when they stuff their mouths, her arms the size of my head, her torsos, both jutting out like an elephants would.  Her fingers were stubby and her legs were almost the size of my Dad’s torso, and her calves had spots on them, and at the time I thought nothing of it. She was pretty to me regardless. Yeah, she was very unhealthy, and sure, she could have tried better, but I still found beauty in anyone, regardless of size or looks. They all were beautiful.

“You see that woman?” My mom asked, her voice clearly not afraid to show disgust. This wasn’t like my mom, but she was always claiming things she didn’t like. “She smells, and I know you can smell it.” No, I couldn’t, I didn’t smell a thing. “I don’t want you to end up like that. You’re already overweight, but you can fix that. You’re beautiful, but with that fat in you, people will make fun of you.” She said.

Never the greatest thing to hear from your mom, but it was what she believed in. I only looked down to my feet and kept thinking. Was I really fat? Did I smell? Was I like her? I didn’t know what to say, but my mom’s words made me think so much, I had to stay in my room alone for a few days. I loved my mom, but she never realized how much she can hurt someone with her own words. Maybe it was because she was raised that way, but I didn’t see why she had to do it to me as well.

“Well, I’m sure whatever the reason is for why you don’t feel comfortable in your body, it shouldn’t affect you. Everyone is beautiful regardless of looks, and I have to say, you are one the most prettiest girls I have ever met. I should be lucky to meet someone like you.” He said, a smile on his face. Call me dumb or something, but I felt something in my stomach flutter, and I don’t know why, but I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“I am sure you’ve met girls who are more prettier Hoseok.” I said, making him chuckle.

“Maybe, but to me, you are prettier, and I can’t say that maybe you beat Im Jinah with that smile of yours.” He said, his hand against his cheek, his elbow propped up on the table as he looked me in the eyes, showing how sincere he was about his words.

What was this? If I can recall, not one guy ever said I was cute, or even pretty. I mean, sure, online guys did, but they never suited me because I just didn’t find love with them. They either wanted sex, and you could say I was the cliche babe who only wanted to find true love. Though, I had my few shares of love interests like a guy named Eli in my high school years, but I was always scared to confront him and talk because I worried I would mess it up. Somehow, being with Hoseok, he seemed to boost my confidence a bit, and I don’t know how, but he was really sweet with his words.

“So, what do you say? Will you give me the honor of… you know, teaching you how to dance?” Hoseok asked again, cutting me from my thoughts and I blinked.

“Oh! Um, I don’t see why not. I guess I’ll go!” I said with a sweet smile, Hoseok smiling widely and his grin was wide. He looked pleased to hear that, making me a little glad he was happy to hear me agree. Sucks for me being a people pleaser, huh?

“Nice! I will take you there! Should we start today? Tomorrow after your classes?” he asked with a sweet smile, his hands intertwining together and showing his excitement.

“Whenever, just um… maybe not when people are around? I get a little nervous when eyes are watching.” I said with a half smile, making him nod.

“I got you. Don’t worry.” He said. Our conversation halted when the waiter came with our coffee, and we continued our conversation from there.


After what seemed like an hour or two, my eyes closed and I chuckled, walking out with Hoseok. I got to learn he was very humorous and very outgoing, I even learned some things about him that most people didn’t know. For instance, he had a girlfriend that he really loved, but she broke his heart when she left him on a cold shoulder, I even learned she was cheating on him. He has a lot of happiness despite his sorrow due to his ex. He was so kind, and you could say I was practically smittened with him and his sweet smile. The dimples on his cheeks were the cutest, and the more I looked at him, the more I realized how gorgeous he was and the more I just couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Well, it’s decided. Every time I invite you to places, you come with the intent of spending time with me. And tomorrow, don’t forget I will be picking you up to take you to the Dance Studio!” Hoseok said with the sweetest smile, making me chuckle a bit and look to the afternoon sky, the clouds covering it as it was still snowing.

“Alright! Sounds like a plan.” I said, my smile just being a firm line with the sides curled up a bit. I sat there for a moment as he stared at me, making me a bit nervous and I spoke, “Um… Hoseok, may I help you?” I asked and he seemed to snap out of it for a moment.

“Ah, sorry! I just couldn’t help but be mesmerized by your beauty and… yeah.” He chuckled nervously, making me blush and I look down, “Well, I um, should I walk you home? Or would you like to um… take a cab?” He asked.

“Oh well uh.. I would um.. Like to walk home, you don’t have to walk me home, it’s not that far.” I said and look down. Why did this feel so awkward? Why was I so nervous? Yes, he was sweet, and yes, he was cute, but I was nowhere near his league. He was above my standards and he was so… so… perfect. I can’t have any chance with him even if I tried.

“Yah, I will walk you home. It’s literally 3 PM and lots of things can happen even in broad daylight.” Hoseok said, “Come on, I will walk you home.”  He said and I sigh, having no choice but to let him do what he wanted. He was so pushy sometimes, but that was okay, I could handle it.


We had been walking for an hour, only five minutes from the apartment, but in that hour, it felt super nice to be able to walk and just get thoughts out of my mind. Thoughts of being homesick, thoughts of my parents, thoughts of my friends… especially Ryan. Say this topic is random all you want, but my friend Ryan… He was the one friend I never would have expected to have lost. Granted, I didn’t talk much to him, but his suicide was something I could never forget, and it was so terrible that I spent a week or two, grieving for his death.

Ryan was a simple guy. Never talked much, nerdy, always loved games and he never once did anything bad to me or any of my friends. He was fun to tease, push around, and although he was super shy, he was the sweetest guy you would ever meet. I remember his curly brown hair, his blue eyes, his fragile smile that could let out the cutest of noises when he was trying to be funny, and his clothing was always soft. He was the casual type, the friend who was just there, like a wall flower. The days he was alive were the days I wished I could go back to, and I could never forget him. I remember his voice half the time and I just adored how kind he was to me. But the day Ryan killed himself was my junior year… back in the year 2016 to 2017.

Ryan’s death was never mentioned at all from then, but I remember that day so vividly. I came to school on Monday, seeing he was absent and he wasn’t anywhere the next day and the day after that… then the news came out. My friend, Madison, she had to tell me the news and when she did, you could say I was in a state of shock and it took me a few minutes to try and process this, but I knew for a fact that Ryan wasn’t one to kill himself. I had to go on his facebook to see, and when I saw the words, “Rest in peace my little brother,” and, “You will never be forgotten Ryan.” I felt like my heart had stopped there, my breathing frigid. I remember texting my best friend, Makenna, telling her to call me because this was urgent. When she called, I broke the news and I was breaking down and she did too. He was our best friend, and his death was just… terrible. We were a trio, and now it was just a duet. What we had, what we all had as best friends, it just left and it hurt. After that, me and Makenna had lost touch over time and I began to go through my life.

There were moments in time when I wondered if I could have done something to make it better. Could I have made it better? Could I have been there for him more? Was I ever able to make him happy like others who cared for him just as much as I did? I didn’t know, but I knew that nothing could have been done. What happened is in the past, I have to move on, but he was always in my heart. It stung when I remembered how people at my school never knew Ryan, but they did the most sweetest thing for his family and that was to have people sign a big poster paper and they all wrote their grievances and how they wished they could have been there for him. Seeing that broke me, it hurt me and it was also sweet of them to do that, but my heart only hurt and I couldn’t take it, and I still can’t till this day. Broken from my thoughts, I looks to Hoseok when he spoke.

“(Y/N), yah! You okay?” He said, making me stare at him for a moment and I shook my head a bit to get the thoughts off my shoulders, so they don’t weigh on me like rocks.

“Yes, I am okay, I was just.. Thinking about something. I will be fine.” I said and I noticed we were in front of our apartment, “Well, I uh… should probably go inside Hoseok. Thank you for today! I really enjoyed it. We still going on for tomorrow, right?” I asked, my lips slightly chapped from the cool breeze, my eyes looking at his chocolate, milky brown irises. God, I could melt in them any day.

“Yeah! I will pick you up tomorrow and we can go from there. I have a photo shoot in the morning and dance rehearsal, so when you finish class, text me and I will be on the way to come and pick you up.” He said, a smile on his face a bit, not like a cheerful one, just one to confirm it will happen.

“Right. I will remember that,” I said, looking to the floor, “I will uh… see you tomo-!” And just like that, a hand was on my cheek to make me look up, and then there was something soft on my lips, my eyes wide as I saw how close Hoseok was to me. Were we… kissing? What? When? How? Why? Many thoughts bubbled in my head as I was trying to find the correct response, and as soon as Hoseok pulled back, he had that wide smile on his face.

“I shall see ya tomorrow! Oh, and that kiss, it means I like you. So don’t go thinking anything stupid there!” He winked and soon walked off.

I was standing there, and as random as it was, I couldn’t find the right words to say and I look down, my face beaming red as the thoughts swirled around my head. I squat down and held my head, practically squealing and I soon stormed into my apartment when Hoseok got into his. Every part of me screamed and burned red because of how fast that situation was.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The sound practically made me jump and I look to my phone in my hand, seeing a text from Hoseok. I gulped and opened the lock on the screen, reading it.

Okay, I know I was a bit forward with that kiss, but you were so cute and I couldn’t help it. But what I said, I meant it. I like you, so do take some time to think about it. <3 - 4:50 PM

Forward? FORWARD? It was not just forward, it was out of nowhere! … Though, the kiss was.. Really gentle and I practically almost melted in it. I sigh heavily and flinched when another text came through. Again, Hoseok.

Also, you sound really cute when you squeal. Reminds me of when Jungkook tried to do aegyo, but let’s not talk about that. I meant it though, that was legit the cutest sound I ever heard. - 4:55 PM

“You-! Oh my fucking goooooooood…” I whined and covered my face, looking to see another text.

What are you freaking out about!? I am freaking out myself here! I can’t believe I kissed you without permission, it’s hard to be able to keep my cool around you sometimes! You’re just so damn cute! - 4:56

“Stop listening in damn it!!” I yelled and smiled a bit, “I will think about it! Just give me a bit!” I said and soon stood, soon responding to him by text.

I am gonna do my homework, so I will have an answer for you maybe in one or two days.. But I have to admit, you really have surprised me. Thanks for taking my first kiss. - 5:00 PM

With that, I placed my phone down, soon hearing my phone buzz, my hand unlocking the screen and reading the text again.

That was your first kiss? Have you not ever dated a guy before? - 5:01 PM

No, I have not. Not many guys are attracted to introverts anyway, so it doesn’t matter. But I guess you are into them, even the ones that carry chub, though I hate that I have it. - 5:02 PM

I sent the text and with that, he stopped responding, so I grabbed my homework, pulling it on the small table I bought with the money I had and began to work on it. My hand holding the mechanical pencil and writing everything down and I sigh a bit. It wasn’t until the time hit 11 PM that I got a text, and this time, it was from someone I didn’t know and one from Hoseok himself. An UNKNOWN number. I opened the screen lock, reading the text from Hobi first., and I felt my stomach practically fill with butterflies.

I can’t wait to see you tomorrow! And don’t say that! Sorry though, I got caught up with Jungkook with the dance rehearsal for our concert on Friday! I will text you tomorrow, sleep well! - 11:03 PM

With that, I smiled, then I opened the other text from the Unknown number. My eyes were wide as I read it, my hands going cold, every part of me going cold as I felt my skin go pale. What was this? The profanity said, the remarks… my stomach dropped as I placed my phone down, taking a deep breath. Who would send something like that? That was just… I looked at the phone again, reading it over and over, and then I couldn’t help but feel sick, so I stopped doing my homework, placing my phone on the charger and just hitting the bunks. I closed my eyes as the words I read echoed in my head.

You fucking fat pig. What makes you think Hobi is going to like the likes of you? You just don’t come into someone’s life and expect them to like you. Maybe you should continue stuffing yourself with junk food like the little whore you are. - 11:03 PM

Well, turns out things were gonna get worse from today on

The Boy Who Ran pt 2

This is a part 2 to this short prompt based around “ Imagine that you show up in your favorite character’s universe, only for them to be missing. You ask the other characters about it, but they have never even heard of your favorite character. You soon realize that you’re supposed to play their role in the story/series”.
I chose Harry James Potter.


Shoes. 

I really should have brought some shoes. Also, should have probably looked where I was going when I decided taking off into the night was a very good idea in terms of switching up my destiny. Perhaps some socks. 
Hogwarts letters do not come with socks. 

They are, however, flammable enough to keep someone warm while you’re reading the other, less crumpled letters you grabbed. This was mostly me ruminating on the fact that, if i was sitting in the middle of.. not London? Maybe London. Possibly London.
Memory blanks are a pain. Especially when trying to pull on memories decades back and you hit The Green Light. It was a nauseating feeling I couldn’t cope with in this body, not as Harry, not as a starving– even more so now– skinny, bony, and cold kid. 
I needed to get in contact with Hagrid, or someone. The more I tried to think about it, though, think forward, my head hurt. So, change was allowed, but no gaming the system too much. 
So, planning.
I was in the middle of a city that i had to run and then dead exhaustion walk to, I wasn’t sure how many owls would come to me. How many could without giving me or the wizarding world away– the last thing I needed was the Durleys sending people out for me via “search for masses of owls”, or people tracking said owls. 
If they were looking. Maybe they weren’t. 

Hogwarts would be looking, though. It’s been looking since I was left on the Dursleys’ doorstep, waiting for me to turn 11. 
I either had to respond to a letter– some how– and tell them i need assistance, or wait it out. 

At that moment, I was curled up by a dumpster in an alleyway, sitting on a wooden pallet to stay out of the rainwater. It was colder than I had anticipated– because of course it was– and my stomach was growling to the point of pain. The upside of having to wear Dudley’s old clothes was that the baggy extra room let the heat I did generate build up, but the downside was that they got damp faster. 
I tried to catch some of the owls that came that day, since they… appearantly took not having a quill and parchment to respond as denial? They flew off. I had no mice or anything to offer and that kinda pissed me off. Not really helping the “Contact Hogwarts” mission I had set for myself. 
Keeping that in mind, I had to find food. You can’t wait for your birthday on faith alone.

After walking a considerable distance, and being reasonably sure I had picked up something from walking in the city barefoot, I was able to get food. I had tried asking around at places for stale bread at first– that got me ran off with not unsurprising vigor. Eventually a synagogue, and then a mosque farther off gave me a small pack of food and a pad of paper– they offered it for free, but I insisted on doing some cleaning inside for them. I think they let me if only because it had started to pour outside and was getting dark. The Rabbi of the synagogue let me sleep on a couch in the entryway, since everything else locked. Well, the reasoning was more I told him that I had no home and needed a soft place in the rain, and he said sleep there– but before this whole thing, I know the security was part of the placement. It was soft and warm and good.
Left over challa never tasted so good at 3am. 

Keep reading

Little Black Dress (Stark!Reader x Maximoff Twins)

Word Count: 1317

Summary: Wanda, Reader’s best friend, is going on a date with Vision for the first time and asks to raid reader’s fabulous closet.

A/N: Meshed together two requests that have been in my inbox 5ever. Hope you like it pals!


Keep reading

boomerang prop tutorial (sivir/league of legends)

expanded version of my response to a build tutorial request on reddit

you will need:

  • eva foam
  • exact-o knife
  • dremel
  • metal wire
  • contact cement
  • 4 long nails or screws
  • worbla
  • craft foam
  • lots of acrylic paint
  • semi-glossy polyurethane spray
  • plastidip 
  • paintbrushes
  • wood glue
  • brown electrical tape

1) start by drawing an outline of the blade on the eva foam with a sharpie. you want the blades to be a substantial size, but no bigger than your torso. once you have your outline to your liking, cut the pieces using an exact-o knife. cut out 8 blades (4 blades + 4 mirroring blades to stack on top of them for reinforcement), 8 handle pieces, and 2 base circle parts

2) use the contact cement (my fav adhesive) to glue the mirroring sections on to once another. with the blade pieces, add some of the metal wire (along with a nail on the bottom so it can attach to the handle better) in the middle of the two sections to reinforce and keep the blades from bending. so at this point you would have 4 blades, 4 handles, and a big circle

3) sand the edges with a dremel and add lil details such as the bevels and the triangle section that holds the gem piece on top of the blade

4) (make sure you do this next part outside otay) coat the sections with two layers of black plastidip. wait about a day for it to dry off!

5) now that you have your boomerang primed, paint over it with acyrilic paint. i used a lot of yellows and greys and just mixed them accordingly (remember, mix dark paints into light paint and not the other way around!). i used two or three coats, and waited a day for drying as well

6) the green gems were the last bit that i did. for them, use worbla over craft foam to make the triangle-ish shape. prime it with two layers of wood glue, followed by acrylic paint, and polyurethane. once the gems are dried, add them to the blades

7) using the contact cement, glue everything together to make the final boomerang

8) as an optional bit, add some electrical tape to the circle-handle for better grip

that’s all there is to it, i hope this was helpful and easy enough to read!!!

Prospect Lake, part 1

Richard died when I was nine months pregnant. He drowned in Prospect Lake.

My cousin Flora found him. She said he looked like an ice blue buoy bobbing up and down in the water. Flora said his face swelled up and he had chipmunk cheeks. She imitated his face to anyone who would watch. She’d puff out her cheeks and squint her eyes. The younger cousins found it hilarious.

I saw a drowned raccoon in Prospect Lake once. Usually they are pretty good swimmers but this one must have been injured. It was skimming the surface with its fur. The others kids threw rocks at it. The raccoon would bounce against the rocks but not sink. I never threw a rock. I liked how it spun slowly with the ripples. The bloated carcass performed this tiny dance with the grace of an obese toddler. Despite the smell and the maggots crawling through the eyeballs, I felt connected to this dead thing.

I did not feel connected to Richard’s water-weighed corpse. I wasn’t there when the police fished him from the lake. Flora told me it took them four tries until they could haul him out of the water. She said one of the officers kicked his stomach by accident and a small fish slithered out from between his lips. I found the fish dead on the shore two weeks later, its bones picked clean by the gulls.

I put the skeleton on my mantel.

Since Richard was my husband, I was asked to go down to the station to identify him. His face wasn’t the comedic rodent image Flora made it seem. His flesh was worn away. His once olive skin was pickled purple. One of his nostrils had been ripped open. His mouth was just a fleshy hole, nibbled by pond fish and insects. But even with the decay and bloating, I recognized my husband.

The police decided it was either an accidental drowning or suicide. No one cared which one it was. As long as they could open the lake back up to the public the authorities were happy to be done with the matter.

Prospect Lake was a popular spot for locals and out-of-towners. My family’s home was on the lake itself. The house had been in our family for generations. It was nothing impressive – just an old house with a pier and a handful of boats. When the property prices went up my family was able to hang on to our land. Developers offered my grandma obscene amounts of money but she never folded. She said our family dug too deep into the lake to be separated from it.

When Richard died there was no funeral. It wasn’t a custom our family observed. We were too familiar with death to celebrate it. It hung around like spider webs in the corners of our lives. Richard’s family asked for the body to be sent to their plot in California. I told them we had already had a burial by our family home. This wasn’t a lie.

Richard’s family never liked me. I didn’t blame them. I was an interruption of their perfect plan for him. He was supposed to visit New England for a summer, and instead he moved here. He wrote his parents a letter explaining that he had found his purpose in life and its name was Angie. My name. He abandoned his dreams of becoming a big-time movie director and instead became a loving husband. He worked for my mother cleaning the boats and renting them to tourists. But he was happy with his little life with me. We both wanted to add children to make the life a little bigger.

But children were not easy to come by. We tried for years. My cousins kept giving birth while I stayed empty. Richard was always a doting husband. He held me while I cried. He offered to do anything to increase our chances, including allowing me to sleep with other men. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to carry his children. My beautiful dark haired love.

My grandma came to me one evening after Richard had gone to bed. I was awake, sitting on the deck with a mug of tea. The lake sprawled out before me. My grandma walked up the back stairs in a flowy linen dress. She looked ethereal. Her gray hair cascaded down her chest and formed small ringlets at her elbows. She sat beside me on the wooden bench. Like always, she smelled of salt and fresh cracked pepper.

Her voice was small but powerful. “I know of your problems with your womb.”

Instinctively I reached a hand to my belly. It was almost as if I could feel the hollowness there. “We’ve tried everything.”

She swung her legs beneath her, kicking up bare feet. “Not everything.” She stood and took a step towards the edge of the deck. “You haven’t asked the lake.”

“The lake?” My grandma was a woman of few words. When she spoke, she did so with a purpose. She chose her words carefully and never said anything she didn’t mean. It was a unique quality. We always joked that the lake air made voices softer. It must have been true for grandma, who had lived on the lake her whole life.

“Tell your husband to make love to you in the lake.”

I blushed furiously. “Grandma, please!”

She waved away my words with a stroke of her hand. “It’s not time for modesty now. If you want a child, you have to tell your husband to make love to you in the lake. Afterwards, you must drink a handful of the water.” She twirled slowly so she was facing me. “You must do whatever it asks of you. And it will ask.”

“This sounds like an old wives’ tale.” I tried to sound flippant but my hand was shaking. I spilled tea onto the deck below me.

“Take my advice or not, it is up to you. But we have all asked the lake for something and it never fails to deliver. Do as it asks and take what you wish.” My grandma leaned over and kissed me softly on the forehead. “I’m going to go tend the garden. “ She walked back down the stairs towards the shore.

I kept her words to myself for a long time. It felt too precious to let into the light. Richard asked me repeatedly what was wrong. I couldn’t tell him. He wasn’t from here. I could feel the burning embarrassment in my body. How could I ask my husband for such an odd request?

Like all things, this secret could not stay buried forever. It was four years since we had begun trying for a child. I felt each of those years like an anvil on my back. Flora was pregnant again. This would be her third. She was round and golden on the beach. I stared enviously at her full moon of a belly. Miracles were growing inside of her. The emptiness in me was growing too. Richard slipped his hand in mine as we lay on the hot sand.

“Soon,” he whispered in my ear.

That night I told him. He did not laugh, to his credit. It was also obvious he didn’t think sleeping together in the lake would do anything help our situation. But he was willing to try. We crept down to the water sometime around midnight. The night was warm. The moon lit up the water like a nightlight. We took our clothes off and left them on the beach. Like teenagers we giggled as we entered the lake.

Richard took me in his arms. I felt the strong sinews of his biceps hard against my ribcage. He kissed my neck and slid my wet hair back. I wondered if this is what it felt like to baptized. As we made love the willows reached for each other, branches nearly touching. A dragonfly flew over my shoulder. My legs were tangled around Richard’s powerful stomach. We echoed the others’ cries of ecstasy.

And as we came together, I saw something from the corner of my eye. In the throes of my orgasm I nearly missed it. But after blinking away sweat and lake water I saw it clearly. It was an insect, but larger. Perhaps the size of a dog. It had thick wings that fluttered away from its armored body. The thorax was segmented into a chest, torso, and two long cricket legs. It strode across the water as if it were land. It was maybe ten feet behind Richard.

But the oddest thing about the creature was its head. It had the face of a young woman.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t want to alert Richard to its presence. It was clearly watching us, floating across the surface in small semi-circles. Instead I kissed Richard on the mouth and paddled back to shore. When I looked to the lake it was gone. Maybe it had never even been. Richard pulled my hand to leave but I had not forgotten the last of my grandma’s instructions. I knelt down and lifted a handful of water to my lips. Richard protested but I had already swallowed the salty liquid. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my dress.

I knew I was pregnant the next morning. The feeling was intense. It felt like I had swallowed a burning ember and it was still alight inside my body. I swear my belly was hot to the touch. Richard smiled kindly, wanting to believe me but highly doubting the truth of my feelings. But I knew. I sensed the spark.

After my period failed to come the rest of the family knew it to be true. Richard brought me flowers every day and kissed my feet. I felt right with the world.

I also felt a penetrating need to visit the lake. I spent my days either floating on the water or relaxing on its shore. Being by the water made the ember burn brighter inside of me. Richard would come to the lake instead of the house, knowing I’d be there. He joked that the baby wanted to be where it was conceived.

I think he may have been right.

Flora had her baby on a Wednesday afternoon. We were all there to watch him come into the world. He was a healthy baby with a thick head of black hair. He was passed from aunt to cousin to mother. His face was serene and peaceful. The family laughed that he looked almost dead. It if weren’t for his tiny chest moving it may have been true. When it was my turn to hold him I rocked him next to my pelvis. His face suddenly crumpled into a screaming cry. The violence of his sob shook me a little. I handed him back to Flora, made an excuse, and ran down to the lake.

I waded into the water fully clothed. I just needed to feel the lake. Or let the lake feel me. I dunked my head under and the current rushed past. After several seconds of breathlessness I thrust my head back above water. The air froze around me. I shook my hair out, watching the droplets fly in all directions. One flew particularly far and landed just in front of the insect. The same armored thing I had seen the night my baby was conceived.

This time I screamed and fell backwards. I cut my ankle on a rock and sunk beneath the surface. I gulped for air and found only water. My throat filled with salt. I tried to stand but the sand slipped under my shoes and I couldn’t get a grip. The world started going dark. I felt an icy cold where the ember had been.

Arms almost like a human’s reached into the water and wrapped around me. It lifted me up and held me just above the lake’s surface. I coughed and gagged. Water poured out of my mouth. My vision came back slowly. I realized I was hovering inches above the lake. The insect had me in its grip. I fought against it.

“Stop now, Nuttaunes.”

The creature’s voice was strangely warm. It sounded like that of a woman. I felt my muscles melt into the embrace of the insect. It carried me across the water towards a circle of willows. It gently placed me on a boulder beneath the tendrils of leaves. The insect landed on the water just next to me. Its terrifyingly human face smiled.

“I am glad we have finally met, Nuttaunes.”

“What is that word?” I was shivering. I wanted to ask what the hell it was, what it wanted with me, but I found these questions lacking.

“Words matter little.” It skittered against the water. “I have given you something.”

My jaw shook. “You saved my life.”

“Yes.” It crept closer to me. I could see the green-black color of its body glinting in the sun. “But your life is not what I am here for. It is the other.” It extended a leg towards my torso.

“The baby?” My voice was quiet. The lake had beaten all of the fight out of my throat.

“It is not a baby yet,” it said sternly. “And it never will be unless you give me something in return.”

“What do you want?”

Its wings struck together, sounding almost like a cello string. The face kept on smiling. “The same thing beings like me have wanted for eons. A life for a life.”

I clutched my neck. “You want to kill me?”

“No.” I think it may have laughed, but the sound was more like a buzzing. “If I wanted that I would have let you swallow the lake. No, I want the life of your pretty man.”

“Richard?”

“Names mean nothing to me. I want the life of your olive skinned lover.” The insect was upon me now. I felt no breath from its humanoid mouth. “If you do not deliver this to me, I will take the life inside you. And you will never have another.” It put an appendage on my face, rubbing its disgusting feelers against my cheek. I recoiled.

“Swim home, Nuttaunes. I will see you again soon.” It spread its wings to their full extent. They cast a dark shadow over the water. It took off into the air. I sat motionless until the thing was out of site.

I swam home as it instructed. It took me nearly an hour of steady paddling. I reached the shore, exhausted. Richard was there. He knew I’d be at the lake. He pulled me from the water in a tight embrace. His hands felt so much warmer than the insect’s. Concerned, he carried me the rest of the way home.

In bed, he asked me what happened. His face was so worried, so sweet. I took his cheek in my hand. I sighed deeply and lied to him. He fell asleep circled around me. I got no sleep that night. Images of the horrifying human filled my dreams.

In the morning, after Richard left for work, I confronted my grandma. She was gardening in the back of the house. The ripples of lake played against her white dress. She looked up at me knowingly.

“How could you have sent me to the lake?!” I tried to yell at her but my voice came out as a soft sob.

“The lake and its watcher has been good to us.” She stood, covered in dirt.

“It wants Richard! It told me either I give him to it or it’ll take my baby.” Tears erupted from my eyes.

My grandma approached me slowly. “Don’t call her “it.” She doesn’t like that.” I opened my mouth to respond but my grandma lifted a finger to my lips. “Before you say anything, let me show you the garden. It will explain much.”

“We’re in the garden.”

“No, the real garden.” She dusted off her dress and turned towards the water. I followed her gaze. The lake settled into itself. Just beyond pier, beyond the boats, a small flicker caught my eye. In the early morning light it looked almost like a hand reaching for the surface. But that far out, that far down, no one could be alive to try and touch the sun.

Okay, so, I was looking at the character pages for Overwatch cuz someone was talking about them and there are just some things that were on my mind that I wanted to mention.

Let’s start with Symmetra.

I borrowed @bikiniarmorbattledamage​‘s Female Armor Bingo card here (and in other spots for this post). Now, technically she’s not wearing armor in the first place, but honestly that’s part of the problem for me. They’re going into battle and she doesn’t even get pants??? Also, I know this is a nitpick but I’m get so tired of seeing thigh-highs that stay up completely by themselves. You need sock glue or garters for that shit, I’m so tired of seeing that. She’s also wearing high heels.

But like, why doesn’t she get real armor at all? Or pants???

And when I looked at her story, it said her real name is Satya Vaswani. I’m kind of side-eyeing the name choice slightly because, when I worked with kids for a while, we had a huge variety of customers and a lot of our Indian customers had what I thought were longer, cool, beautiful names. Names that a lot of Americans would think were hard to say. But other characters got longer and more complicated-sounding names, so why do I have a bad feeling that they picked Symmetra’s name to be easier for Americans to say? Idk. It bugs me. 


Next up is Mercy.

Whooooo also isn’t allowed to have pants.* :/ And no, those are clearly semi-opaque tights of some kind, not pants. They’re not even leggings. They basically have an almost fishnet look to them. So again, no pants. Boobplate, of course. And the entire skirt thing and her boots are going to chafe and poke her horribly and it’s just not comfortable-looking at all. 

But what really bothers me about her design is how fucking Aryan she is. Do angel-type characters always have to be pale white, blonde, and blue-eyed? Combine that with the fact that her name is Angela Ziegler, which is a German last name, and the whole thing just becomes incredibly off-putting to me. Sure, technically her character is Swiss, but to give her a German last name on top of her looking so Aryan is just gross, frankly.


Next up is Zarya.

Her torso armor is still kind of skintight for her torso and I am not counting that jersey-like fabric she’s wearing underneath it as padding in any way, shape, or form, but holy shit she gets PANTS! And doesn’t even have to wear heels!!

She still has a pretty prominently boobplated breast size, but still probably one of their better designs.

One thing that makes me uncomfortable is that the one tank-like woman we get is Russian??? Why??? I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but when I learned she was Russian, I wasn’t even slightly surprised. It feels like it’s playing into some weird tropes that I’m not as familiar with but it just doesn’t feel right on some level.


Next up is D.va.

(Apologies for weird image, couldn’t find anything great for it.)

Her shoes have a big enough heel that they’d be uncomfortable to walk in, so I’m counting it. Those things on her breasts are almost on top of her nipples so I’m counting it. Also, it’s technically not a boobplate, but they gave her boobsocks, so I’m counting it.

Everything about this character just makes me like. :/ Really?

Honestly, her name “D.va” wouldn’t bother me as much if it weren’t for the way she was written. She’s a 19-year-old Korean woman who’s job was as a pro-gamer before the plot. Like. Really? Just. Sigh. Do I even need to explain why this is icky-feeling? Ugh. And no, playing video games should not automatically make her good at using mechs, which is kind of what it read as in her profile to me. -_-


Next up is Widowmaker.

Bingo, bingo, bingo! I really don’t like her outfit at all. There’s no way her top would ever stay in place unless it was basically stapled into her skin and it isn’t. So. No. Also, it looks really uncomfortably tight, especially in the crotch region, which is just gonna make it more likely that she’ll get vaginal infections. These are things people need to think about, I’m serious.

Okay, for one thing, yes, I realize she’s supposed to be some sort of femme fatale character. Except. Her backstory doesn’t match how she looks at all. She’s supposed to be this perfect assassin who was brainwashed to be a killing machine, blah blah blah. As tired as I find that story to be in general, it would be alright enough if this wasn’t her appearance. What kind elite goddamn assassin dresses like that?!

Also, her backstory says, “her physiology was altered, drastically slowing her heart, which turned her skin cold and blue and numbed her ability to experience human emotion.” That is not how that works. At all. Her skin is more purple imo than blue, but I’d be willing to ignore that if it weren’t for the “somehow it also made her emotionless!” No. No no no no no. That’s now how that works. At all. Ever. That’s just shitty writing. Even if they were trying to be dramatically metaphorical, it read like they meant it literally and it’s just really awful. Just no.

Also her being French because French is ~sexy~ just fucking delete this character, ffs.


Next up is Mei.

This outfit is actually A+, I really like it.

Ignoring the bullshit of cryotechnology because sure why not whatever, her backstory is also good. I think her pants might not actually be warm enough cuz they look like tights and if she’s fighting in any not cold area, I feel like she’d be sweating like crazy, but whatever.

The only thing I’m kinda :/ about is that I often see her held up as a fat or curvy female character, but I feel like she’s honestly designed as just wearing really thick clothing? But in general, no big complaints for her.


Next is Tracer.

Overall her outfit is pretty fun. That butt cleavage, tho. :/ Why the hell is her butt so vacuum-sealed into those pants? That’s an incredibly uncomfortable wedgie. Ick.

She’s alright for the most part, but is anyone else mildly annoyed that the sort of mascot character for the game is a white British woman? Meh. Not much else to talk about that hasn’t already been said.


Finally, we have Pharah.

She’s also got one of the better outfits, actually. She’s the only woman who has real head protection (which isn’t a high priority for me tbh but it’s great to see). Her armor around her waist especially is super tight, so I’m counting it.

I felt like her backstory was really, really bland. She’s wearing really awesome armor! Kick it up a notch!! I also kind of wish her armor was even more bulky but it’s pretty good.

One thing I feel weird about is that curlique-type thing under her eye. I don’t know enough about Egyptian culture to speak to it much, but it feels a little bit like, “hey this is Egyptian, right? Now you can tell she’s Egyptian!” Idk.


So overall, some of the outfits are really good. The body diversity could have really been a lot better.

Symmetra deserved PANTS FER FUCKS SAKE, Mercy is way, way too Aryan, Widowmaker has a backstory that contradicts her entire outfit, and D.va as a character just makes me facepalm because she feels so extremely fanservicey. 

But more people especially need to talk about grossly Aryan Mercy is, it’s really pissing me off the most.

Otherwise, Symmetra, Mei, Zarya, and Pharah are best character imo.


*EDIT: Someone pointed out that it’s a little weird for me to count Tracer’s leg-coverings as pants but not Mercy’s leg-coverings as pants. Texture-wise, I still think Mercy’s are semi-opaque tights and Tracer’s are thick leggings, but this one can definitely be up to interpretation, I think.